#i apologize if link doesn't work :[

[guardian-angle22]

TK talking about himself vs. Other people talking about TK

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Do you know of any fics about Ray looking like Isabella or having her her eyes?

The one that most readily comes to mind with Isabella and Ray's relationship as the main focus is They Don't Know You're Hers (2019) by NigiyakanaAki (there's also a sequel one-shot fic from Emma's perspective on Ray's looks, although she's not directly making the connection between them so much as noting they have a similar aura about them and how Ray's pretty like she was).

Although I'd also recommend always a riddle inside my head (aesop's kin) (2019) by evanescent.

It doesn't place as much focus on the physical similarities between them, but rather on their personalities and choices.

With this passage directly confronting what underlies any potential angst he might have associated with his features.

“It could, but you’re scared,” Isabella says then. “Of how my mind worked. Of how your own brain is wired. Is being similar to me really that terrible?” - “You made your choices…are you happy with them?”

To plagiarize myself from this post:

I don’t know if I would phrase it as him hating himself more because of [their physical similarities]? Because no one can control their genetics, and he never delves into angst over his black hair and other physical traits he inherited from her. He instead focuses on the actions of himself and others:

His phrasing of the “true nature” of demons in chapter 123 makes me think back to how he justified his self-immolation in chapter 32:

He fully convinced himself that the only way he could atone for what he did was by committing suicide as the linchpin of his plan. He views what he and Isabella did—using the children of plant no.3 for their respective machinations—as reprehensible. So I feel he would still beat himself up over this inherited nature/loathsome predisposition and how their brains must be wired similarly more than actually hating any physical traits he might have gotten from her, but they would be triggering for him any time he’s having a negative thought spiral (you could easily write all of this off as pedantic semantics though lol).

While I'm 100% on board for Ray having purple eyes, I'm not keen on them being the focus of his inner turmoil and him repeatedly drawing attention to them (or worse, other people doing this with how awkward it feels on multiple fronts) as I am for them acting as bonus visuals and triggers to kick off a deeply embedded fear of an inescapable, inherit nature that dooms him. He made the choice to use people, proved the lengths he was willing to go to, just like she did (not getting into the circumstances behind it because for all the nuance he'll afford other things, when pushed this is something he's very stark about and won't budge on.) It's not all-consuming because that places him at odds with his vow to live and take care of his family, but something he falls into now and again, believing he'll never be able to truly atone for what he did and for that he doesn't deserve happiness.

Facsimile (2020) by banana_slug_army is another fic that follows this line of thought.

Enjoyed all four of these, but it's far from an exhaustive list, so opening it up to followers and others if they have any other recs on the subject.

[doodlemancy]

Hey, so, Patreon is lying to you about Apple forcing their hand.

Patreon is getting rid of 1st-of-the-month/per-creation billing, claiming a new decision by Apple has forced their hand. This will hurt a lot of creatives, and their excuse is bullshit. Allow me to explain.

In 2018, Patreon tried to impose a new ill-considered fee structure on everyone that would have cost creators a lot of smaller pledges. They ended up apologizing for this profusely; they have now deleted this apology from their website and unfortunately I was unable to find it on the Internet Archive. This was shameful, but to their credit they backed off quickly when things got ugly.

Back in 2021, Patreon discussed plans to force all creators into a rolling bill structure and get rid of first-of-the-month/pay-up-front billing. The community once again very decisively shouted them down, and they had to walk it back again. This whole fiasco damaged the already shaky trust between Patreon creators and staff.

This week, Patreon announced that, along with extra fees, Apple's policies were supposedly forcing them to move everyone over to the rolling fee structure that they first tried to get us to agree to in 2021. Patreon will tell you they are not happy about this. As a person who spent a long time watching Patreon make terrible decisions, I can tell you-- they are probably very happy about this, because it's exactly the smokescreen they needed to do what they've been trying to do for years, which is pull ALL Patreon creators away from 1st-of-the-month and per-creation billing.

The spin in the news I've seen so far is "Apple bullies Patreon, boo hoo hoo poor Patreon". This is very obviously not what's happening. Mind you: Apple does suck, and they are doing something bad here. Fuck apple. But Patreon and Apple are BOTH the asshole in this situation; Everyone Sucks Here. Patreon has options: they can make the iOS app a reader app and do billing through the browser to avoid the restrictions and the extra fees (Netflix and Amazon, notably, both do this), or they can allow creators to opt-out of iOS billing if they want to use billing models that don't work with it.

It seems most likely to me that the Apple situation is a real fire that Patreon has chosen to use as a convenient smokescreen to do what they've been wanting to do since at least 2021, and maybe since 2018.

What do we do?:

They have a feedback form specifically about this.

They also have a creator discord.

And they have lots of social media pages where they probably really, really hope that this doesn't blow up again, because they never learn. The incidents I've described here aren't the only two other times Patreon has pissed off their creators. They know if they don't contain the noise it'll be harder to get away with it, so make some noise. They've done a lot of work to spin this cleverly so you'll have sympathy for them and they won't get the kind of backlash they know they deserve.

Please don't misuse these links and make threats or spam or something. All you have to do is give well-reasoned feedback. Patreon hates feedback. Make sure they get a nice heaping helping of their least favorite vegetable.

[justp34chy]

3, 8, and 20 for Briar! :>

yeye

3) What song describes your OC?

another toughie bc i have so so many songs in my playlist but i gotta go w Sonne by Rammstein https://youtu.be/v7GMG1aLyPw?si=iVLvKHr3J_MntRo1 in the translated lyrics its all abt the sun and not being afraid also my lil german bb boy :3

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

hes very crafty and always manages to figure out smth to do w his hand(s) usually making lil trinkets and gadgets with things he can find around the office, my bois an avid reader and a fast one at that, he has this massive bookshelf in his office w all the books hes finished. he unwinds by sittin down with a good book and a hot beverage of his choice

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

He doesn't fight on his own volition, he never chooses to but if its necessary he is able to defend himself through close quarters combat. if he had to choose a weapon he would probably duel wield short swords or pistols

though his metal hand rlly packs a punch

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologize, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[nickkkdoesstuff]

Ohh me! Me! Me! I have a few rottmnt recs :D

Control and Baby Big Brother by @ratswritingbl0g

(Check out all their other works, they're really good 👌)

Control: (cw: blood, violence, implied and graphic description of death) Raph gets captured by the EPF, it spirals down from there. (Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending)

BBB: Donnie clones Raph after he dies, so now they're stuck with a 4 year old version of their older brother. (Very light angst, family fluff, bonding)

Things left to fester by rytheoneandonly

(cw: blood, vomit, implied background character death)

A year after the events of the movie, Raph's ready to move on and continue his journey to become a hero, however he realizes that his past is catching up to him. He and his family have yet to fight the aftermath of the invasion. Ft. Kraang!Raph (Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, fluff, canon typical violence)

Just Want to be Perfect, Someday (but it's not worth it, maybe) by @tei-to-tei

(Cw: implied self harm, implied suicidal ideation)

The repercussions of bottling up emotions and questioning your place in the family. (Recovery, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort)

(also check out Blood Sacrifice if you like recovery fics!)

Atlas, My Brother by SwampCryptid

Raph, as the big brother, is the sworn protector, the shield. A curse tests how true this is. (Curses, angst, eventual hurt/comfort (I think), canon-typical violence)

Our older brother by MeanKitty356

(Cw: blood, violence)

When Raph goes missing, his little brothers must find him before it's too late. Meanwhile, Raph must face his worst fears and fight to not be the monster everyone wants him to be. (Angst, eventual hurt comfort)

Honorable mentions:

More than scars | These hands covered in ivy | Elegy of an older brother | The Oldest Brother - The One Who Is The Biggest (Series) | Sweet Sixteen | May we be reunited

Raph-Centric Fic Recs (an incomplete list)

please feel free to reblog this with your own recs!!!

2003:

Curiosity Killed The Cat (But Raphael Brought It Back) by halogalopaghost. raph keeps sneaking out and the brothers are gonna find out why. amazing reveal at the end!

Lemon Boy by theNewHit. brains + brawn bonding!

Near-Sighted by halogalopaghost. this furthers my Raph Needs Glasses agenda. so cute and sweet!

You’re Not Delivering a Perfect Body to the Grave by CricketFerguson. raph whump from donnie’s pov. so good!

2012:

Aegis by clairakitty. a character study of raph's protective nature. literally destroyed me.

brother in the river by JumpingInMuddyPuddles. farmhouse arc, raph pov of helping leo heal.

Let Me Save You by GwydionAE. what if the battle with the kraang went differently? sunset duo angst.

on my own by feduphufflepuff. amaaazing raph kidnapping angst + recovery!

Problem Child by LilliputianDuckling. a character study with complicated feelings about splinter's parenting. it ruined my life. i'm obsessed.

Puppet Tightly Strung by clairakitty. the brain worm, but so much worse. guys i can't put my love for this one into words. JUST READ IT.

Sai, Sigh by nemsolele. the brain worm does some permanent damage. amazing writing!

Solo by GwydionAE. i've always felt like we never got enough of drummer raph, and this fic explores that so well!

The Truth According to Raphael by GwydionAE. raph + truth serum! he doesn't handle it well.

traveling so far to get there by taizi. the sunset duo in a post-apocalyptic world. literally life-changing. 

ROTTMNT:

as though (they) were mine by ApatheticRobots. raph + eldest daughter syndrome. delicious.

haustorium by gumyshark. raph's pov when he was krang-ified. hurts my heart.

breaking free from the bindweed by gumyshark. a sort-of sequel to haustorium.

Glass Heart by kindlystrawberry. raph’s post-movie healing.

Stained Hands, Aching Hearts by HellsTrojanHorse. raph deals with a nightmare.

you got the goods by taizi. raph's relationship with his spikes. super cute!

Mutant Mayhem:

Reciprocity by ThePeak. everyone thinks leo is dead, but raph knows the truth—his brother's just missing. i can't even describe HOW INCREDIBLE this fic is. AMAZING!!!

What Was I Made For? (series) by OliviaJen. a character study that's sooooo painful but so good. absolutely incredible.

if you've got any recs to share, please reblog this and add them!

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: bigboy!ony x reader

warnings: smut18+, twt link, shitty writing

a/n: i haven't been on here in so long, let alone written anything. work, life, and school has consumed my entire being, so i apologize that this shit isnt anywhere near what my usual writing is. but i do miss writing, and i do miss being a freak so here you go

Bigboy!Ony is such a motherfuckin talker when he's in that shit.

he'll have you bent over on the bed feedin you slow deep strokes as he admired the way you responded to him in the mirror. “you still with me, ma?” he'll smirk down at you. there was no use hiding how good you felt as you mumbled out barely coherent reassurances, pulling your hips up just slightly to alleviate the intense amount of pleasure. “yeah?” his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back “don't run from me, baby.” he'd shake his head slowly “you love me, right? youn run from things you love ma”

you were sure you could cum just off his voice alone. that smooth, tantalizing rich tone making your toes curl the moment it reached your eardrums. ugh lets not even get started on when he falls in love all over again. he'll just be mumbling to himself as he pushed some hair out of your face “fuck my baby so pretty” he'll groan and as if the compliments weren't making your knees weak he'd make you repeat it. “say it back ma, tell me you're pretty” oh, just how his words make the moment so much more intimate.

just when you think he's done he'll pull out and immediately start munchin. your hand instantly reaching behind you to push him back but that doesn't stop him. instead, youll hear him mumble protest into your pussy before he lifts his head up “just lemme eat ma. all you gotta do is breathe nd imma handle the rest” he'll reach for your hand like the loving boyfriend he is and continue to munch.

[wingedmenace]

I've caught up a bit on the AO3 (and specifically, PAC) situation recently. I won't indulge too much in my own opinion of the matter— but this does seem like it will equate into a shift in fandom, even as a smaller one.

Ah, the point is: I hope MCYT as a community takes this chance to figure out some way to create a smaller (well, relatively speaking) MCYT centered archive. I think doing something like that would help with the problems around tagging (wallet/personal nicknames alongside internet names, since all of it is treated like RPF) as well as the problems in the overlap of characters (i.e. a streamer can play two different characters under the same name, and there's no good way of differentiating them without also tagging fandom), separating RPF v edge cases v fully within fictional universe fics (I cannot imagine how hard it is to find RPF fics about the actual streamers for those that are interested in that…), and many others slipping my mind right now. Since the archive, being under the control of people more intimately connected to the inner workings of the fandom it's hosting– as well as not having a predetermined way of creating tags– could better meet people where they want to be.

Not that I'm saying that this would be an easy feat, nor one that will absolutely happen. AO3, although it was originally meant to be forked, has a case of bad spaghetti code (or at least, I've heard it has) and only really has one notable fork even after all these years… I'm not sure how many small archives with good tagging there are to take inspiration or pointers from anymore, besides that. And as a smaller archive there's no way for the tagging to be as robust as AO3 without also employing the use of tag wranglers… which would be hard for an up and coming small project to do.

Eh, well, this is getting long. That's all my rambling for the day. If you're interested in creating your own personal archive you can check out this tutorial on dreamwidth by melannen on making one via neocities. Cheers.

[half-oz-eddie]

Imagining Buck being so worked up over Tommy's bubbling and abrupt stopping that he comes up with absurd ways to try and find out if Tommy's okay.

First he downloads one of those texting apps, creates a secondary number and then texts Tommy pretending he's conducting a survey on behalf of the LAFD, and Tommy promptly replies to the text asking if it's a phone interview.

Buck panics and says it is and now he's downloading a voice changer app and asking Tommy all these bullshit questions like "when's the last time you were injured on the job, do you have any current injuries, do you like being a firefighter pilot..." and Tommy's answering the questions without a hitch, then Buck starts asking for "demographic information" like "are you married, single" and Tommy sounds a bit dejected when he says he's single so Buck chimes in and says "all heroes deserve someone special!" and Tommy responds with a dismissive "yeah, I guess they do."

Now Buck, being certifiably fucking insane, wants to take this further and asks if he can call Tommy to do additional surveys about his life as a firefighter pilot. Tommy obliges and asks the surveyor for their name.

Buck comes up with a name on the fly. "Aaron Baxter."

Tommy pauses, Buck gets nervous, then he's just like "okay, anything else you need, Aaron?" Buck tells him no and to have a good day.

Buck conducts a few more of these surveys with Tommy, just to hear his voice and how he's been doing on the job, trying not to dip too much into his personal life and make it weird.

On the third survey, Tommy mentions an injury that's kept him off duty, and Buck's so worried he's breaking character and Tommy's laughing, assuming this surveyor is flirting with him.

Buck doesn't know what to do so he kinda dances around the point but asks "what if I was flirting? you just sound so charming and interesting."

Tommy laughs into the phone and says he's flattered but his heart belongs to someone else and it probably will for awhile.

Buck thanks Tommy for letting him conduct another survey and tells him to get some rest.

Now Buck's scrambling around trying to figure out a way to make it seem like he found out about Tommy's injury a different way, without him finding out it was him conducting the surveys, so he asks Eddie to call Tommy and invite him to play basketball.

Eddie's asking Buck why he should do that and Buck doesn't want to tell Eddie about the survey thing either because he doesn't want his best friend to think he's a lunatic, so he just pleads, telling Eddie he just has a bad feeling.

Eddie eventually gives in and calls Tommy to ask how he's doing and see if he wants to play basketball. The problem is, Tommy never mentions the injury to Eddie. He just tells him he has a lot on his plate and he won't be able to come out for a few weeks.

Now Buck has to figure out another way to say he found out about the injury. He thinks and thinks and thinks, but he's got nothing. So he pulls out a secret weapon.

He'd been holding on to one of Tommy's shirts because it was the last thing linking them to one another. He hoped Tommy would come pick it up, or he'd ask for it, or something. So now Buck's in his car with this flannel shirt that he didn't want to let go of, but this shirt is the only way he can access Tommy.

He knocks on Tommy's door, and it takes him about 5 minutes to answer. They take a good look at one another, Buck immediately notices Tommy's crutches and starts profusely apologizing.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I just wanted-"

"Come in."

Tommy invites him inside and they sit at the kitchen table having what feels like an endless staring contest.

"I, uh...I-I came to bring back your shirt."

"What shirt?"

Buck looks around, realizing he didn't even grab the shirt from the passenger seat. "Oh, damn it. I forgot it in the car."

Tommy snorts. "Sure you did."

"No I-I'm serious. It's in the car I'll go get it." He eagerly springs up.

"You wanna hear something strange?" Tommy begins.

Buck warily sits down, waiting for Tommy to continue.

"Some guy's been calling me every week or so, claiming he was conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD."

Buck shrugged it off. "Yeah?"

"I asked my captain about it, he said there's no one conducting surveys on behalf of the LAFD. I started to think it was a scam at first, but the guy was only asking me about my well being and if I was seeing anyone and if I'd been injured on the job."

Buck was trying to conceal his nervousness. "O...kay?"

"I mentioned my injury, vaguely. And then Eddie calls me, asking if I wanna play basketball."

"B-but Eddie always plays basketball with you."

"Sure, but then, you suddenly show up here to return my shirt." Tommy cocks his head and smirks knowingly. "Something you wanna tell me?"

"I-uh-n-no." Buck falters. "I just...no."

Tommy laughs. "You have a very odd way of going about things, Evan Buckley. Can I offer you a little advice?"

"Sure."

"If you wanna lie, lie better, and if you wanna use a voice changer, use a better voice changer. I could still tell it was you."

Buck's mouth hung open. "I-uh-h-how'd you know?"

"I know you." Tommy responds in a quiet whisper.

"I'm sorry for lying to you. I just missed you so much and all I wanted to do was hear your voice again, b-but then you said you were injured and I-"

"Couldn't stay away." Tommy nods. "I would've done the same thing. I mean, not the voice changer, or the surveys, but...if you were hurt, I'd wanna be by your side too."

Buck sighs in relief. "C-can I ask you a question?"

"You've asked me lots of questions. What's one more?"

"When you said your heart belongs to someone else...did you know it was me you were talking to?"

Tommy shrugs. "Are you asking me if my heart belongs to you?"

"Well, I'm actually...hoping it does. Because Tommy...I can't let you go."

They smile at one another and Buck feels like the painful grip on his heart is finally loosening.

"How about I make us some coffee and we have a conversation? A real one. I wanna talk to Evan, not Aaron. Sound good?"

Buck agrees. "Yeah, that sounds great."

[separocean-anxiety]

page one | page two

This list is page one of two. Please take the time to read through and share both of these posts.

These campaigns have been brought to my attention via asks and messages; please take the time to read through and share their stories, and contribute whatever you can.

Please note that the amounts raised may have changed by the time you're reading this post, so for accuracy I encourage you to check the gofundmes for yourselves. To everyone who has been tagged here, please feel free to inform me of any changes/additions you'd like made to the listed information! I'll make an effort to update this periodically with new campaigns and amounts raised.

I also realize that there may be multiple accounts linked back to a single family/campaign, and apologize in advance if I don’t initially list them together. If an account link doesn't work anymore, I will do my best to track down any existing alts or backups.

@lailashaqoura - gofundme (€27,305 raised of €45,000 goal)

@wafaaresh / @wafaaresh6 - gofundme (€28,344 raised of €100,000 target) / gofundme ($5,169 raised out of a $50,000 goal)

@4-zien-yousef - gofundme (€10,835 raised of €23,000 goal)

@mahmoud1995 / @mahmoud-1995 - gofundme ($10,311 raised of $50,000 goal)

@88mohammed - gofundme (€3,122 raised of €100,000 goal)

@ghaziyounes1967 - gofundme ($4,715 raised of $50,000 goal)

@bilalassadabedrabou - gofundme (€5,085 raised of €80,000 goal)

@karamrafeek - gofundme (€12,335 raised of €20,000 goal)

@musababed - gofundme (£2,508 raised of £8,000 goal)

@save-hijazi-family2 / @save-family - gofundme (€24,470 raised of €30,000 goal)

@aseelo579 / @aseelo680 - gofundme ($15,724 raised of $50,000 goal)

@basel-1995 / @basel1995s - gofundme (CHF7,103 raised of CHF60,000 goal)

@mohammadyaser1980 / @m905506028 - gofundme (€14,310 raised of €35,000 goal)

@ehabayyad23 - gofundme (€2,508 raised of €50,000 goal)

@mahmoudayyad - gofundme (€2,227 raised of €100,000 goal)

@hanaa987 / @hanaa-yousef - gofundme (£11,850 raised of £20,000 goal)

@falestine-yousef / @yousef-falestine - gofundme ($9,483 raised of $40,000 goal)

@heba-baker - gofundme (€3,891 raised of €60,000 goal)

@amlanqar - gofundme (€6,727 raised of €50,000 goal)

@ranin3344 - gofundme (€6,784 raised of €80,000 goal)

@zeanyahya4 - gofundme (€3,447 raised of €25,000 goal)

@saveyouseffamily - gofundme (€5,457 raised of €20,000 goal)

@ashraf-family2 - gofundme (€16,027 raised of €20,000 goal)

@odayalanqar / @odayalanqar-2002 - gofundme (€2,152 raised of €50,000 goal)

@yasminalbalawiigaza - gofundme (€31,464 raised of €50,000 goal)

@frhatfamily / @drfarhatblog - gofundme ($4,915 raised of $29,500 goal)

@hayanahed - gofundme (€63,170 raised of €100,000 goal)

@ayaalanqarsblog - gofundme (€6,658 raised of €15,000 goal)

@fatma93-gaza - gofundme (€3,400 raised of €20,000 goal)

@noorabd1992 - gofundme ($10,912 raised of $45,000 goal)

@yahyaahmed5 - gofundme ($910 raised of $50,000 goal)

@ayuwbfamily - gofundme ($470 raised of $50,000 goal)

@gazaway13 - gofundme (€13,312 raised of €40,000 goal)

@azaxa / @lina-gaza - gofundme (€34,959 raised of €45,000 goal)

@abdelmutei - gofundme (€12,391 raised of €25,000 goal)

@dinamahammed99 - gofundme ($1,895 raised of $6,000 goal)

@ahmeadhilles / @ahmedhelllis / @ahmedhells-blog - gofundme (€14,895 raised of €80,000 goal)

@salahaldinahhorsblog - gofundme (€4,671 raised of €40,000 goal)

@mohammednasers-blog - gofundme (€2,145 raised of €38,000 goal)

@abedalazeiz - gofundme (€25,761 raised of €50,000 goal)

@alaakh2025 - gofundme (£28,693 raised of £56,000 goal)

@yomnaahmed3 - gofundme / paypal (€228 raised of €50,000 goal)

@saveemanfamily - gofundme ($3,235 CAD raised of $50,000 target)

@nedataya - gofundme ($4,074 raised of $29,500 goal)

@save-salam-family - gofundme (€22,603 raised of €40,000 goal)

@abuadamfamily - gofundme (€54,361 raised of €58,000 goal)

@bshaeromars-blog - gofundme ($14,836 raised of $40,000 goal)

@shadowyavenuetaco - gofundme (£2,285 raised of £50,000 goal)

@salem-baker - gofundme (€4,587 raised of €38,000 goal)

@mahmoudkhalafff - gofundme (€22,565 raised of €30,000 goal)

@abedallhferwanagaza - gofundme (€4,596 raised of €35,000 goal)

@hadeelchilds / @hadeelmekki / @hadeelfamily - gofundme (€12,568 raised of €35,000 goal)

@monashamali - gofundme (£13,283 raised of £30,000 goal)

@malakabed - gofundme (€5,578 raised of €25,000 goal)

@mohamed-mikki - paypal ($1,705 raised of $20,000)

@ahmad-syam-blog - gofundme ($1,446 CAD raised of $40,000 goal)

@kefahfamily - gofundme ($755 raised of $40,000 goal)

@fatimaalbalawi - gofundme (€34,803 raised of €50,000 goal)

@sarah-family - gofundme ($5,505 CAD raised of $48,000 goal)

@razan-2000 - gofundme ($3,990 raised of $50,000 goal)

@ezzaldeens-blog - gofundme (€201 raised of €20,000 target)

@amna-merwan - gofundme (€13,497 raised of €40,000 goal)

@hala-15 - gofundme [cw: graphic images] (€171 raised of €5,000 goal)

@yasermohammad - gofundme (€15,268 raised of €35,000 goal)

@stupendouswolfearthquake - gofundme (kr9,605 SEK raised of kr750,000 goal)

@hsalem-2 - gofundme (€1,929 raised of €3,000 goal) / paypal (€62 raised of €3,000)

@freepaleatine95 - gofundme ($5,701 raised of $50,000 goal)

@asmaamajed2 - gofundme ($4,185 raised out of a $50,000 goal)

@tahseenkhazen - gofundme ($9,156 raised of $25,000 goal)

@burningnightgiver - gofundme ($10,571 CAD raised of $50,000 goal)

@rem096 - gofundme (€2,487 raised of €20,000 goal)

@abdullahgaza - gofundme (€81,796 raised of €120,000 goal)

@mhammemosa10 - gofundme ($1,886 raised of $20,000 goal)

@ehabayyad23 - gofundme (€1,420 raised of €50,000 goal)

@safaakhatib - gofundme (€22,800 raised of €35,000 target)

@mohamadsmeer33 - gofundme ($1,066 AUD raised of $12,000 goal)

@savepalestineinfamily19 - gofundme (€6,992 raised of €50,000 goal)

@karamalmadhoun0 - gofundme (€16,346 raised of €20,000 goal)

@dodiahmed123 - gofundme (€860 raised of €20,000 goal)

@nesmamomen - gofundme ($115,790 raised of $150,000 goal)

@mahmoud91abed / @mahmoud91hilles - gofundme (€142 raised out of a goal of €50,000)

@noor678 - gofundme ($3,086 raised out of a $25,000 goal)

@mayadayyad81 - gofundme ($37,395 raised of $50,000 goal)

@ahmed-mohammed1 - gofundme (€4,960 raised of €30,000 goal)

@motaaz37 - gofundme (kr30,453 SEK raised of kr250,000 goal)

@osama-family - gofundme (£2,706 raised of £50,000 goal)

@mo-shamia - gofundme ($63,037 raised of $70,000 goal)

@zeanyahyaa - gofundme (€6,427 raised of €25,000 goal)

@children-gaza - gofundme (€6,674 raised of €15,000 goal)

continued on PAGE TWO ⏩

❤️ Do your daily clicks

🌈 Share the Rainbow Campaigns

[starkeysprincess]

Trying this again since link didn’t work🫶🏻

P! Link this was inspired by😌: https://twitter.com/lilayura_/status/1723131249324171400?s=46&t=fLXiXk2nW8WPhuZDNsKA1g

Bully!Rafe punishing reader like this after she smarts off to him at Top’s party in front of everyone. Just going absolutely feral having her at his complete mercy. Spanking her ass, taunting her with the most evil degrading shit, and torturing her until she’s brain dead mush under him🫠 and then sending a video to everyone at the party to show them how much she really hates him😌

•°. *࿐ HUMILIATE YOU LIKE YOU HUMILIATED ME

you ate with this link, I’ve been drooling over it 🫠 ALSO im tipsy as fuck rn so I apologize in advanced if this is complete ass 😭

pairings: bully!rafe x reader

warnings: use of vibrator, mentions of bondage, mentions of overstimulation, degradation, mentions of video recording, 18+ mdni

you were trying to have fun and enjoy Topper's party but were fed up with Rafe and his nasty comments. you've never been the type to talk back, always taking insults with a grain of salt but you were at your breaking point, especially when you've done nothing to deserve the way he's been treating you.

if you knew smart-mouthing him would lead you to where you are now, you would've kept your mouth shut.

"this is what happens when you wanna fuckin' disrespect and embarrass me in front of everyone" he gritted his teeth, earning a yelp from you when his hand roughly landed on your ass.

"p-please" you squirmed under him, your wrists and ankles burning from harshly tugging at the binds that held them together. "p-please" rafe mimics, increasing the setting on the magic wand that was held to your clit.

"sluts like you need to learn their fuckin' place" he snorted, pulling your panties to the side, pushing the vibrator further onto your clit.

your mascara stained your face from your tears, "Rafe, 'm sorry!".

"sorry isn't enough, you can keep acting all big and tough but everyone will know how much of a whore you are" he chuckles, enjoying every single whimper and moan that he pulls from you.

your cunt clenches around nothing from his words, the pressure against your sensitive, puffy clit becoming too much.

“your mouth says you hate me but your cunt say otherwise, you’re practically fuckin’ dripping” Rafe snorts, “gonna show everyone how wet you’re getting f’me without even touching you”.

“humiliate you just like how you humiliated me” he spat, his large, calloused hand pulling your ass cheeks apart, pressing the vibrator further against your pussy, "but i know a slut like you would enjoy that, huh? bet you enjoy being nothin’ but a hole to fuck”.

"r-rafe" you sob out, your tears blurring your vision, "that's right, lemme hear you begging f'me to stop" he grins, holding your hips down when they buck against the vibrator.

your eyes roll back, words slurring as you cum again for the fifth time and you're begging for him to stop, "i can't" you hiccup. "you can't or you won't? either way, it doesn't matter, 'm not stoppin' till you've learned you're fuckin' lesson" Rafe scoffed.

Rafe's hand comes down on your ass once again, "i don't give a shit if you're crying for me to stop, you're gonna keep takin' what i give you until you pass out for all i fuckin' care".

"if you know what's best for you, you'd keep your whore mouth shut and take it or so fuckin' help me, i'll shove my cock so far down your throat to shut you up, yeah?" he threatens.

Rafe smirked, knowing you had no choice but to take it, your pussy throbbing and you could barely form words, drool spilling out of your mouth and onto the sheets as your legs shook from being overstimulated.

your brain felt fuzzy, turning into mush as you cum once again, you failed to realize he was recording the entire time, "shit, look at how fuckin' pretty she is when she's nothing but a drooling, cock hungry whore f'me".

Rafe saved the video, airdropping it to everyone at the party before tossing his phone onto the mattress, fingers spreading your pussy open before pushing them into your tight, wet hole.

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @annoyingassleo @fae-of-prey @bunnyrafe @sturnioloshacker @redhead1180 @shawtycoreee @drewstarkeys-world @starkeyisthelastname @heartsforvin @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @kisses4angel @hallecarey1 @eddieslut69 @hyperfixationgirl @starkeysheart @blckbrrybasket @flvredcas

[missaengg]

Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.

Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭

Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.

Your bedroom feels lonely.

Too lonely. 

Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour. 

You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst… 

Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.

His cologne.

“Rafayel?!”

“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”

“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”

“Just now. Came straight here.”

You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.

He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.

“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.

His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.

“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him. 

“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….” 

The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.

“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.

“Raf, I missed you too, but–”

He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.

He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”

Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.

You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.

“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white. 

“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”

He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.

You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.

Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length. 

“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.

“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.

You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.

“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”

You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”

He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.

You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve. 

“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”

Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”

“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.

Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.

You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.

His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses. 

“Raf…” you plead.

Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.” 

His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.

You can’t breathe. 

You can only helplessly call out his name.

Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.

Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.

“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.

But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.

You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.

 “I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”

He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.

“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.

Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”

You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.

You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.

[teaboot]

Hey! Bamboo toilet paper person here. Your response was very thoughtful-- I want to apologize for placing the onus of climate issues on individual action, haha. I work at a zoo that bills itself as being very heavy on conservation messaging, but as a non-partisan organization we're obviously not allowed to talk about the evils of capitalism. This means that in our programming, we MUST place the responsibility of stopping climate change on individual guests, encouraging them to make more environmentally conscientious decisions like buying reef safe sunscreen or reducing carbon emissions by driving less. The most "political" we're allowed to get is telling people to stay educated and vote in favor of laws that will have a positive impact on the environment. I think I've been drinking the Zoolaid a little TOO much recently, because you're totally right-- the vast, VAST majority of damage to the environment is caused by major corporations, not random people working around their own unique needs. It was also low key a little ableist of me to take issue with that ngl.

Obviously no obligation to respond to this publicly (though it's fine if you choose to do so), but I did want to thank you for your response and mention that it did get through the nonprofit mission-based-organization propaganda living rent free in my head haha. Cheers!

Hey, you work at a zoo? That is SO cool, aadsdggjjg@!!!

And hey, no worries, you totally had a good point about endless waste and trying to counter it where possible- Just from personal experience involved in the barest edge of the fashion industry, I really, really, REALLY hate the idea that, like... people can't access simple shit like plastic straws, even if they're the best, most practical, least-harmful option for them.... because a 12 year old made up some random number for a school project about plastic waste

Where, as a zoo person, I imagine you're already aware that the average sea turtle is WILDLY more likely to die from abandoned plastic fishing nets or ocean-dump grocery bags than accidentally get a straw inside it

So here we are, using paper straws!- which may be an improvement, or may not, I don't have that data, and construction emissions are their own thing- BUT WE STILL HAVE OCEANS FULL OF ABANDONED NETS

WHICH ARE OBJECTIVELY WORSE, but MUCH harder to get rid of, and as the average person doesn't USE fishing nets, it'd much harder to market as a "You, not me" sort of issue.

Cleaning up fishing nets isn't trendy. It isn't sexy. You can't troubleshoot a cute little trendy solution for it that you can market to upwardly-mobile tweens.

But a reusable water bottle? A cute canvas tote? A metal straw? That's a solution you can buy and feel good about.

Never mind that you need to use a single cotton reusable bag somewhere like a million times before the cost of its construction counterbalances the cost of a single grocery bag every time you shop- which, hey, some of us were reusing as trash liners for their wastebaskets, or bundle bags for donating clothes, or lining for our leaky winter boots!

If a better option is available, I'll take it. But as ZERO HARM is next to impossible at this time, I personally am gonna aim for MINIMAL HARM as long as I can.

...sorry, I didn't mean to ramble off again.

But hey, if your nonprofit is doing good things, feel free to shoot me a link! I can post it on my blog :D

(Link to original post for context lol)

[tangledinink]

Hello sorry for tagging. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

Okay kids, are you ready for a lesson in SPOTTING ONLINE SCAMS????

*please don't message this person or harass them-- i do recommend that you report and block them, however.

right now it's incredibly important to give time, attention, and money to online fundraisers. but it's also incredibly important not to let scammers take advantage of that and steal money that could actually save lives right now.

firstly-- if we go to this person's blog, and navigate to "archive--"

this person's blog has only existed for a few days, only has a handful of generic posts (many reblogged multiple times,) and made their first reblog the same day that they posted their "fundraiser" post. this is a MASSIVE red flag.

please also note that neither their ask nor post actually mention palestine or gaza at all, but it's still tagged with "free palestine" and "gaza."

though this one should obviously be taken with a grain of salt, it is also worth noting the poor grammar here, because this can be (but isn't always!!!) another red flag. Note also that all the details are really vague and don't quite make sense... user describes "enduring cold" and their "nose freezing" though it's the middle of the summer. This user says that they're "sick," but doesn't really offer any further details about this. This user says that they need money for "resources," but don't elaborate on what exactly they need. They vaguely elude to a need for lodging, caretakers, and medicine, but don't actually give us any details-- despite this they have a "$1200" goal. What is this specific goal of $1200 for? Is that the cost of their medication? Overdue medical bills? Cost for rent this month?... They also apologize in their ask for "tagging" me... but they didn't tag me. They sent me an ask.

Another red flag is that their link labeled "Fundraiser link" leads directly to a Paypal donation page rather than a gofundme or anything else. If someone chooses to collect aid through paypal, venmo, etc. instead of through a gofundme, that's not a huge issue in and of itself... but it is fishy that it's mislabeled like this.

And if we GOOGLE this user's tumblr name or paypal name, we can find results like this:

This also led me to find them on @/kyra45's blog on their list of current scam accounts.

Despite all this, they have close to 100 reblogs from well-meaning people trying to signal boost and ask for donations on their behalf.

With the current situation in Palestine and the amount of actual, legitimate fundraisers and donations being circulated right now, for Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, or otherwise, it is more important than ever to be aware of people who are trying to take advantage of the situation for their own personal gain. Whenever possible, please take the time to do some due diligence when you receive messages like this and check to see if a fundraiser is legitimate! It always sucks for someone to be the victim of a scam and lose money to someone playing pretend on the internet... but it sucks even more when that money could have gone to people in actual, acute, dire need.

Here's some more information about spotting scams on tumblr! Shoutout to tumblr user kyra45 for compiling this, and for all the other hard work they do-- thanks.

Here's an actual, vetted, and legitimate campaign that could use your support. After receiving this ask, I went and donated. If you have the means to do so, it would be amazing if you did so, too.

[ see ALL gaza funds campaigns here ]

[whosblackcat]

mini thread abt how to help riize & seunghan + info 🩷🫧

note & warning: please don’t engage with ANY content of riize, for example don’t comment in their tiktoks saying “riize is 7” even if your intention is good, it breaks the purpose of the boycott!!

sm will pull fake scandals to distract our attention from the matter, for example as they did with sungchan yesterday! don’t believe anything, exols warned us

tweet the trending tags on twitter!! big official fan accounts always share which ones we have to use

don't buy or watch anything related to riize & sm, we’re boycotting

don’t interact with any post of sm and riize even if it’s to use the tags or supporting the boys, we’re boycotting

all the info of what did one of the persons who sent the death wreaths

ot6 are complaining to the police & government abt the displays and flowers for seunghan in front of the sm building, and according to this person now it's not possible to put them in commercial facilities

sm is buying followers and likes due to the impact of the boycott

ot6 are monitoring every movement and project in every language and reporting them. @/RIIZEUSACENTRE kofi was reported because of them while raising trucks money

seunghan's leaked photo with his girlfriend was leaked by hybe

riize is seven movement schedule. day 1 october 28th

mass review 1 star to all sm facilities on google maps (note: they’re deleting the bad reviews but we have to keep going)

hybes’s ceo lee jae sang issues apology letter for the ‘music industry report’ document (a sorry is not enough after destroying hsh life & career)

seunghan town will be removed due to ot6 reports and company that they reported the project, causing making hard getting the needed permits

pineapple manager passed in front of the protest today, he def saw the protest

manager passed in front of the protest again, they know what’s going on

manager passed in front of the protest for the third time, and tomorrow is the meeting

riize is seven movement schedule november 6th

there’s a very popular lawyer who has won a case against sm before that right now is representing fans

riize doesn't have any schedule, comeback or tour for the first quarter of 2025. the boycott is working, keep going!

riize lost 400k monthly listeners on spotify

clarifications on rumors regarding hsh. the thread linked below explains it really well, so please read carefully and repost it on X!

sm announced that seunghan will debut as a solo artist in the second half of 2025… they even created him a profile on ig. sm is trying to calm us down. is their final act of desperation to tame the situation. this doesn’t protect him from toxic fans, pls keep boycotting, this doesn’t end here (we protested to have him back in riize where he belongs, not to debut as solo artist is this a joke what are they doing💀💀)

Jaehyeon Choe, a TikToker with over 174k followers (@/watchwithsamjaychoe), who has worked with different kpop groups, some of them being SM ones, knows things we don't know and is telling us to DON'T STOP THE BOYCOTT

MAMA's violations against fans, the mistreatment and disrespect experienced by the fans cannot be ignored. some fans were denied entry due to their clothing and some others had their stuff (which they paid for) thrown away even if it wasn’t against the rules they settled. dm @/RIIZEUSACENTRE on X if something like this happened to you

this is all the info i found and i wanted to spread it here too, so thanks and credits to all the ppl on twitter!! if i find more relevant info i’ll keep updating this post. please share it 🫶🏻 (note: english isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes in my grammar)

little motivation and some twitter accounts that organize projects/give info below the cut! 🩷

— some good info twitter accs:

@/RIIZEUSACENTRE @/SEVENRIIZE @/RIIZE_EUROPE @/PROTECT_RIIZE @/Seunghan_USA

— little motivation:

kbriize are holding face to face protests and fanbases hired an attorney. boycott properly if you don't want all the effort to be wasted! remember, boycotting takes time

"The group nearly disbanded in September of 2001, after Park Joon-hyung was discovered to be in a relationship. Their management announced, without informing him or the members, that he was to leave the group and they'd continue as 4, but it was met with strong objection from fans, who repeatedly signed petitions and threatened to boycott concerts and the company. Danny, Kyesang, Hoyoung and Taewoo held their own press conference, without the knowledge of their management, to show their support for Joon. After two months of disagreements, their company eventually backed down and allowed Joon to be in the group." if joon returned to the group after two months of protests, complains and boycott, we can bring back seunghan!! the key is persistence. please don't give up and keep fighting for his rights and justice!!

[silcoitus]

Could you write a (young)Silco/Disabled Reader, who for the most part is able to walk just fine with the help of a brace but on bad days they’ll bring out the cane and on really bad days a wheelchair but is still insistent on trying to do things no matter how much they shouldn’t?

I tried to be as sensitive as I could towards reader's disability. I hope it comes across sincere and that I haven't committed any faux pas. If I have, please let me know in the comments and I will happily revise. Like young Silco in this fic, I will quickly apologize and learn if given the opportunity.

A Voice Like Yours

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: gn!reader x silco; disabled reader; Silco; Felicia; Connol; Vander; Benzo; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort;

Word count: 3.5k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

You would've liked to get to the market sooner, but getting out of bed was particularly hard today. Typically, you're able to handle just fine with only your brace. And when that doesn't work, your cane will usually suffice. But with rough sleep last night and a flare-up this morning, you opt for using your chair today to get to the market. Just until you can get your bearings again.

With your later arrival, you're unable to beat the morning rush, sandwiched between what seems like every citizen of the Undercity. Most give you a wide berth, but others shove past you unceremoniously. You're used to it by now, but your fatigue plasters a permanent scowl on your face as you try to find your usual vendors.

As you make your way through your shopping list, the bag sitting on your lap getting slightly heavier with each new stall you visit, you feel a bit better. (You used to keep your bag slung over the back of your chair, but stopped when some asshole stole it.)

You're on the last item on your list when you get settled in front of one wooden stall and make small talk with the shopkeep. He greets you by name and grabs your usual order, setting it down on the counter before turning his back to fix something. You try to reach for your purchase, but it's just a touch too far. You're about to move your chair closer when a stranger waltzes up and plucks the bag off the counter.

“Hey! That's mine!” you protest, rolling closer to him.

“I know,” he replies, handing it to you. “I was just getting it for you.”

You snatch it and shove it into your canvas bag, still frowning at the tall, slender man with long raven hair. 

“I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own.” You grab your wheels and in one fluid, practiced motion, reposition your chair away from him. You start to leave, but pause, looking over your shoulder. “I don't need your help.”

Out of your periphery, you see him raise both hands in surrender, but from this angle, you can't tell if his expression is sincere or sarcastic. You try to shake it off, ready to go back home and wash your hands of the interaction. 

The Undercity is supposed to be the city of self-reliance.

So why does everyone still treat you like a child?

The following day fares better. You bring your cane (just in case) for your shift at the shop, settling into your stool at the cash register. You're reading a book during the slower hours when a customer comes in and sets a stack of papers down onto the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the flyers and you lift your eyes to see a familiar face.

“If it's alright, I'd like to add these to your bulletin board,” the man from yesterday says, not even looking at you. He leans on the counter, looking out the large windows to the street. “Got a meeting coming up and want to get the word out.”

Finally, he turns to you.

You watch as his face cycles from apathy to confusion to recognition. His eyes dart down to your stool and the surrounding area, seemingly looking for your wheelchair. When he comes up empty, he looks back up to your face, head tilting to the side.

“I didn't need it today,” you preemptively answer. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he's quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to insinuate—”

“That I'm faking?”

“No! Never!” he says, hands coming up in surrender, again. His shoulders sag forward slightly and he runs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I'm sorry, can we start again?”

He puts his hand out. You eye it warily.

“Hi, I'm Silco.”

Your lips thin, but you take his hand.

“Hi, Silco.” You give him your name.

“I would like to put these up on your bulletin board,” he says, nodding to the corkboard behind you.

You put your hand out.

“Only two,” you instruct. “One here and the one in the back.”

He starts to hand you the flyers, but then pulls back.

“I can put up the one out back,” he offers.

“It's fine,” you say, insisting with a gesture of your hand. “I can do it.”

Silco looks at your hand then up to your face, understanding slowly spreading across his features. He nods, mostly to himself, as he hands you the papers.

“Of course.”

You take one flyer and a thumbtack from the corner of the board, stabbing it in place with a bit more force than necessary.

“You should come,” Silco says from behind you. “We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just think about it,” he says softly, gathering the pile of papers. With a small, almost apologetic, smile, he leaves.

You lift the remaining flyer, scanning it.

Children of Zaun 

Town Hall

Wednesday 

4pm

The Last Drop 

“Hey, Monte?” you call out. “If it's okay, I think I'm gonna head out a little early.”

Your boss peeks his head out from one of the aisles, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose.

“That's fine,” he reassures you, calling your name. “We're pretty slow today; I can take it from here.”

You take your cane from behind the counter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!”

You make your way to The Last Drop, having spent a couple days wrestling internally about whether or not to go. You had heard of the Children of Zaun, but not really given them much thought. From what you'd heard, they were a ragtag group of misfits posing as rebels, claiming to want independence from Piltover. You had rolled your eyes in disbelief at the notion. Besides, you have plenty of your own concerns to worry about; it's not as if you have time to take up some righteous cause.

But Silco's words ring in your ear, propelling you forward.

“We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

What did he mean by that? “Like yours”—what’s that supposed to mean? So they want some sort of token disabled person on their crew to make them look better or something?

But the sincere remorse on his face and the softness of his tone told you otherwise. 

Maybe he meant it.

Maybe he does actually want to hear what you might have to say.

So you walk up to The Last Drop, hand clutching your cane, holding it less like a walking stick and more like a blunt force weapon (which it has had to be, on occasion). Taking a deep breath, you pull your shoulders back, and push open the door.

You're by no means early, but there's no way this is the entire gang. You can count on exactly one hand the number of people that showed up. There's Silco, standing with his back to you, what looks to be a couple sharing a table, and then two larger men standing by the bar. You're immediately filled with regret and start to turn back around, until you hear someone call your name.

“You came!” Silco says, more excitement in his voice than you'd expect. “Hey, this is who I told you about.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to you and you feel rooted on the spot.

You shoot Silco a look.

He told them about you? What could he possibly have said?

He gestures you forward, leading you to the couple at the table. You take one of the empty seats and Silco sits in the one next to you. He leans forward, one forearm barred along the wooden surface as he addresses the couple.

“I told you we were missing something,” he starts. “That this—” he gestures to the group, forefinger pointed and moving in a circle, “wasn't enough.”

That same forefinger comes down, tapping incessantly on the table.

“If we're to be the voice of Zaun, we need to make sure that everyone has a spot at the table.”

The woman glances at you before turning back to Silco, nodding slightly as she speaks.

“Okay…” she nods a little more, as if the thought is taking root in her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turns toward you. “My name is Felicia and this is Connol,” she says, leaning her head toward the man next to her. 

“Felicia. Connol. Nice to meet you.”

You shake hands with both of them.

“Would you like a drink?”

You pull your lips through your teeth and Felicia is quick to reassure you.

“Don't worry; it's on the house.” She straightens up, calling out to the large man behind the bar. “Vander! Some beer!”

“Get it yourself!” he calls back.

“Fuck you,” she laughs.

“Oy,” the other man says, bringing a tray over. “Watch yer language ‘round the new recruit.”

Felicia laughs.

“They’re an adult, Benzo; they can handle it.”

You look back at her and she offers you a smirk. You take the free mug of beer and Silco raises his up in toast.

“To the Children of Zaun.”

Felicia and Connol mirror the movement.

“The Children of Zaun!”

You lift your glass and say the words, though you don't take them to heart just yet. But as you bring the mug to your lips, you can't help the small smile from creeping onto your face.

Every Wednesday, you leave the shop to go to the bar. And every Wednesday, you become a little more smitten.

With the cause.

With the man that introduced you to it.

The more you get to know Silco, the more you realize your first impression of him wasn't a good representation of the man he is. 

Or, perhaps, maybe it was the perfect representation.

A man who only wants to help, eager to uplift those around him. So excited to do so that he steps on a few toes in the process. He's stumbling and clumsy with his help, but he's quick to apologize and quick to learn. 

It doesn't take long for you to realize—he’s that way with everyone. It wasn't just you and it wasn't just because you're disabled. He's always on alert for if someone could use a hand, always first to arrive when someone asks for assistance. That's just who he is.

And if this is one of the rebels trying to uplift the Undercity, the Nation of Zaun is in good hands.

Silco is keeping you company at the shop, following you around as you restock some items. He carries a crate of goods while you arrange them on displays, your discerning eye careful to make them look as appealing as possible.

You drop one of the small boxes and Silco is quick to bend down to grab it.

“Silco,” you warn, “What'd I say about helping without being asked?”

“Sorry, right,” he says, straightening up to let you retrieve it. “Force of habit.”

You grin up at him, chuckling. “I'm just fucking with you.”

With some assistance from him, you get out of your wheelchair and resume your place at the cash register. Silco takes the opportunity to sit in your chair, long fingers fiddling with the wheels. You laugh as he tries to maneuver the chair around the front of the shop.

“Have you learned any tricks on this thing?” he asks, trying to lean back and balance it so that his feet lift off the ground.

“It's a wheelchair, not a skateboard, you jackass.”

“That's a ‘no’ then,” he says, smirking. But the smirk is wiped clean off his face when the chair tumbles backwards, sending him crashing to the floor.

You let out a bark of a laugh at that, laughing even harder when he starts to groan.

“Serves you right!” You grab your cane, gingerly getting off the stool to help him back up. “If you broke my chair, I swear to Janna… Do you know how hard these are to get? I had to pay so much coin for it.” 

You point your cane at him threateningly, but he wraps his fingers around it and tugs, pulling you forward. A startled squeak at your throat, you fall on top of him, catching yourself just in time so you don't headbutt him.

“Silco—”

“Now we're both down here,” he teases, smirking.

“Wonderful,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “What a masterful plan.”

Something sparks behind Silco's ocean green eyes, something playful, mischievous.

“I'll say it is.”

And with that, he lifts his head, closing the distance between your lips. Your eyebrows lift and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours. His hand comes up to tenderly cradle your face and you lean into the kiss, pressing your chest to his so you're flush with him. You don't know how much time has passed, but as you kiss him, you feel as light as a cloud, until—

“Hey!”

You straighten up, face red with blush.

“I don't pay you to swap spit with the customers,” Monte says, but there's no bite to his words. “Get up before someone trips on you.”

You laugh, pressing your forehead to Silco's. 

“Here.” You push yourself up, offering him a hand. “Let me help you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had a friend group like this. Ever since the accident that caused your disability, no one seems to have the patience to deal with your rougher days, as if you’re holding them back.

It’s hard to not internalize that feeling.

But with Silco and the rest of the Children of Zaun, you feel different. Whereas before, it felt like your mere presence was a burden, you feel seen and appreciated. You feel heard.

When you tell Vander that the bathroom stalls are too tiny for your chair, he knocks the dividers down to make room.

When you lament about the small step outside the front door, Benzo throws together a small wooden ramp. 

More and more, The Last Drop feels like home, though going to the basement or the upstairs office still eludes you. It’s not that you can’t. It’s more that you’re worried that you’ll have to ask for help to get you back on the ground floor should you get stuck in either place. But, there’s never really been any reason for you to visit either floor, so you’re content to stay in the main bar area, occasionally ducking into the back room when the crowd gets a little too loud.

It’s on one such trip to the storage room that Silco finds you, huddled on the floor, your cane propped up next to you. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your palms pressed flat against your ears, trying in vain to drown out the sounds of the bar. You had made the mistake of visiting during peak hours and didn’t have the energy to go all the way back home. You thought you could power through it until the customers dwindled, but it became too much. So, you retreated to the back room, holding back tears.

“We have one more!” Silco calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, talking to Vander who tends the bar. “After this, we’ll need to get more.”

He turns over his shoulder to see you on the floor. Immediately, his voice lowers and he crouches down to get eye level, your name a reassuring coo on his throat.

“Hey… are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Okay, just… give me a second.”

You hear him pick up a crate of bottles. The door swings open, letting in the raucous noise from outside. You let out a whimper as the door swings closed. After a few tense minutes, the door opens again and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, I’m back,” Silco coos. There’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to you. “What do you need?”

It’s a sentence you practically trained him to ask. With his tendency to charge forward offering the help he thinks you need, you managed to finally get him to learn to ask you first. 

It’s a small gesture, but at this moment, it’s everything.

“I need…” Your breath is shaky, your eyes holding back tears. “I need quiet. And— And it’s too far to walk home.”

Silco shifts, moving to crouch in front of you, hands on either of your shoulders. He squeezes them and you look up to see a tender expression on his face. Not pity or condescension. Concern. Sincere, genuine concern.

“It’s much quieter upstairs in the office,” he offers. “Do you think you can make it?”

Your lips tighten. It’s hard to think with so much noise; you can barely hear your own thoughts. It doesn’t help that you can feel a flare up coming on, pain shooting through your legs.

“I… I don’t know.”

You watch Silco chew on the inside of his mouth, thinking. 

“I could… carry you.”

You shoot a look at him, equal parts indignation and humiliation.

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal.” He looks around the storage room as if he’ll find an alternative answer. “But the sooner we get you out of here, the sooner you can feel better.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, wrestling internally. The sting behind your eyes is threatening to push past your defenses. Finally, wordlessly, you nod.

“Okay,” he says, tone firm. 

His ocean green eyes dart around your body, trying to figure out how best to pick you up that keeps your dignity intact. But before he can reach a decision, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to yourself, holding him in a tight embrace.

“Oh! Hey…” He melts into the hug, bringing both arms around your back, squeezing you gently. “It’s okay.” He rubs your back with one hand, palm warm against your shirt. “It’s okay. We all need help sometimes.”

“I did too much today,” you say into the crook of his neck, tears escaping your eyes. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Shhhh…” he shushes, shifting his arms as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you along. 

You manage to get to your feet, but your legs feel wobbly and unstable under your weight.

“Here, let me…” Silco bends down and hangs your cane over the crook of his elbow before bringing one arm behind your knees. “On three. One… two… three.”

You lift your legs up and he scoops you up in his arms, straightening to a stand. Instinctively, you wrap both your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“I got you,” he coos. “I’ve got you.” He takes one final look around the room before pushing the door open with his back. “We’ll go behind the bar; no one will even know.”

You nod, tears flowing in earnest now to stain Silco’s shirt.

You press one ear to the crook of his neck, trying to dampen the loud voices of the bar patrons. At that, Silco walks a little faster, making his way up the staircase. In his haste, he drops your cane on the landing.

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll go back for it,” he says, continuing forward.

After opening the door and carefully depositing you onto the plush red cushions of the couch, he darts out the door, returning with your cane in hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you.

“There.” He rubs your hip as you lay on your side. “Is that better?”

You nod, reorienting yourself to rest your head on his lap. Silco settles on the couch, bringing one hand to your head, smoothing down your hair in soft reassuring strokes. His other hand grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.

It’s finally quiet.

Your legs still ache, but it’s not as bad as it was before. You can feel the rise and fall of Silco’s chest against your back, his breathing a calming rhythm.

“Thank you, Silco,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he whispers back.

After a moment, he shifts, bending down to bring his lips to your temple. You smile at the touch, feeling warmth settle behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve never heard you apologize before and I don’t want to hear it now.”

The firmness in his voice has you turning your face to look up at him. There’s a resoluteness in his expression, a confidence you typically see reserved for Children of Zaun meetings. He looks off into the distance, as if seeing something that’s not there. A vision. A promise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continues. His chin dips and his ocean green eyes find yours. His eyebrows lift and his lips curl into a soft smile, full of pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

Join my taglist!