#i could go on and on about why this mentality is fucking stupid lmao

[ceasarslegion]

I think everyone who acts like this needs to shut the fuck up forever

[miaoua3]

hiiii! I love your fics can I request hannie headcanons ? sfw and nsfw?

tysm <33333

hii! thank you so much, im glad that you’re enjoying my stuff! and sure you can!

Jeonghan Boyfriend Headcanons:

•(sfw! hcs):

you definitely give him cuteness aggression all the time so he will just come up to you and squeeze your cheeks between his hands so your lips look as if you were a fish and kiss you aggressively while saying “you’re so cute ughhh can you stop being so cute somebody is bound to try to steal you away from me?” (drama queen)

loves to randomly give you head pats while you are talking, you could be standing in front of him and complaining about something and all he does is smile gently at you while smoothing down your hair with gentle hands

speaking of hair, loves to randomly pull your hairs into two pigtails with his hands and just…play with it? lmao just randomly going “tututu” while making the pigtails bounce up and down for no reason at all

loves to play stupid when you ask for a kiss, will just be like “hm? did you say something? i could’ve sworn i heard something but oh well-“, will continue to do this until you forcefully pull him down by his shirt and kiss him, will smile while kissing you (little shit)

is the baby in the relationship, wants you to talk to him in baby voice and cuddle him and hold him and scratch his head and kiss him all the time- if you thought that you were going to be the one to get the princess treatment you thought wrong (kinda, he still will treat you like that dw it’s just that he wants that treatment first before he gives it to you too)

randomly bites you all the time- you are in the kitchen and making yourself a coffee? there he is, bending down and biting your cheek, its saturday and you free day so you’re sleeping in for once in your life? yeah no, not when hannie decides its the perfect time to bite your shoulder and demand that you pay attention to him

if you couldn’t tell by the ton of incriminating video evidence, he loves to slap your ass all the time, god forbid you drop something and bend down to pick it up, he’s already all over your ass, squeezing it and making it jiggle (smh you wonder if you’re in a relationship with a 13 year old sometimes)

while he’s usually in the happy and cheerful mode almost all the time, when you come crying to him about something that happened he genuinely gets so angry, he’s ready to throw hands and kill however made you cry, will just grab his keys and angrily be like “where is he? im going to kill him.” you will have to hold him back and beg him to stay with you instead

•(nsfw! hcs):

another one that is more into hardcore stuff, is into power play, choking, slapping and spanking you, he just loves how desperate you look like while he’s fucking you, your hands wrapped around his wrists while he’s choking you, tears and spit spilling down your face

loves it when you ride him, will just sit back and smirk at you, if you get tired will just be like “what, baby is tired already? wants me to take over?” before he flips you over and fucks you hard and fast

is into light slapping, not too hard, he would never hurt your pretty face like that, just a light tap to your cheek when you are mentally gone while he’s fucking you stupid, just a little ‘hey pay attention to me’ kind of slap

can definitely see him be the type to wake you up with his tongue on your pussy, eating you out as if you were his breakfast, will just smirk when he sees that you woke up, say “well good morning angel” before he gets back down to business

he can’t explain why but he really likes it when you wear all white, he guesses it makes you look so innocent and angelic and he gets off on corrupting you and staining your innocence but that’s just a guess

another one that likes to tease you in public, will just come up behind you while you are grocery shopping and lighting press his front into you so you can feel his half hard on pressing in your ass, all while saying “what are you looking at? ah, the date of expiration? well obviously take the left one then”

LOVES having his hair pulled, will literally moan if you do it, just imagine- he’s laying between your legs, lapping on your pussy and drinking up all your juices when you start rapidly approaching your high, and then you pull on his hair and he’s moaning so loudly into your pussy that it’s enough to make you cum all over his pretty face❤️

another one that is into orgasm delay, loves it when he can feel you clenching around his dick, your pussy pulsating in need to reach the high, your nails biting into his arms, shoulders and back, and then he just pulls out and you let out a frustrated sob (that you will get spanked for) before doing it all again

[awfulalignmentcharts]

what the f%#$ does ____ mean on that stupid ass ship chart

saw a few questions, so ask (the air) and ye shall receive.

top section

"describe their vibe" — you can interpret this at will. it's just a space to put whatever you think encapsulates the vibes of their dynamic/them as a relationship. it can be like a list of tropes, a dumb tweet screenshot, some other type of image, anything really.

everything else should be straightforward lmao.

rest of the shit below the cut so i don't take up your dash space.

continuums section

"repressed vs (sexually) open" — as it sounds. repressed as in like they're a prude or open as in they're down to bang on the regular.

"no libido vs terminally horny" — not horny to very horny lmao

"aggressively romantic vs allergic to PDA" — kinda like how private the character is/how embarrassed are they by the notion of displays of romance. do they prefer lowkey displays of romance or are they dramatic about it?

"(severely) mentally ill vs mentally stable" — fairly self-explanatory. are they full of mental problems or are they actually mentally sound?

"kms'ing over being in love vs blushing giggling twirling hair" — pretty much their reaction to being in love, specifically with the other person. do they hate the fact they love the other person, or are they super giddy that they're in love?

"doomed by the narrative vs blessed by the narrative" — it's a little open to interpretation but my usage of it for individual use is like how fucked over by the canon events are they individually? (if the relationship's doomed, they're probably both on the doomed end; if the relationship ISN'T doomed but one was severely fucked over by the story's events, then they could be in the doomed section while the other one could be hovering elsewhere)

"big spoon vs little spoon" — self-explanatory. it's cuddle time. who's the big spoon, who's the little spoon.

"the weapon vs the wielder" — ngl, this continuum may not actually work too well for some healthier ships, but the general vibe of it is like the weapon is the one who tends to do things at the wielder's behest. the weapon is commonly more of a warrior type, more of the "protector" (and may also have self-worth issues), while the wielder is the one that typically gets protected, may have a great deal of importance for some reason, and is sort of the "user" of the weapon. you're more than welcome to make your own interpretations of it lmao

the pyjamas — based on this image: (who's the sleepy old man with the candle that goes snork mimimimi vs the beautiful wife who's likely also a damsel in distress)

"jealous vs chill" — should be fairly self-explanatory, but like is the person chill with their partner, or do they easily get jealous when the attention isn't on them?

"has zero game vs insane game" — are they bitchless or can they pull bitches? regardless of charisma (or lack thereof), can they actually get laid or not

"functional vs soggy loser" — are they a functional member of society with their shit together or are they born-in-a-wet-cardboard-box, perpetually soggy, capital P Pathetic?

the other shit

"what brings them together?" — what are some reasons that this ship actually has grounds? what do they have going for their relationship?

"what is keeping them/kept them apart?" — were/are there any reasons why they haven't just kissed yet? what are those reasons?

"poorly describe their meetcute" — describe how they met but be funny about it.

"list their reductive fandom tropes/fandom appeal" — reasons why people might ship them or like the ship. (e.g. enemies to lovers, angel and demon dichotomy, etc.)

"who's the armrest?" — two guys. one likes to turn the other into an armrest by sticking their arm on the other's shoulder (or something; done possibly with the intent to annoy). who's the one that's being used as the armrest more often?

"who's the headrest?" — two guys. one puts their head on the other more frequently. who's the one that's more often turned into a head rest?

"who fell first?" — who fell in love first?

"who fell harder?" — who fell in love harder?

"who cooks" — should be obvious lmao

"who cleans up more messes?" — can be literal messes, or who more often deals with the fallout of the bullshit one of them gets up to.

"who's the bigger yearner?" — who yearns more?

"who confessed first?" — should be literal.

touch

should be fairly self-explanatory, but it's kinda like what is or isn't off limits to contact of any form from the other person. say character A is entirely red while character B is entirely purple. A is allergic to any form of contact anywhere from B, while B fucking loves anything from A.

[lovelykil]

Hi! Love you so much can you do killua x fem reader one shot where reader is wearing a fitted shirt and killuas lowkey distracted🙈 (bros like 😧) LMAO TYSM

distracted─

: ➛ killua x reader older ver.

cw; boobs (drools)

note; giggles

in a frustrated panic, you search all over your room for a specific shirt, throwing shirts in the air, all onto your bed and all over the floor. You pull out your phone then set it back in your pocket, sighing with a hint of annoyance.

You had about half an hour, but if you didn't find this stupid shirt now you would be here all day. After awhile of endlessly looking you sulk in a corner, rubbing your face.

"oh my gosh where the hell is my shirt.." You whined, sitting up. It was at this time you heard a knock on your door and then a familiar face coming through it.

"y/n are you ready? I'm leaving in 10." Your ride, kurapika, spoke softly but as well coming off strictly as he was adamant about time. You made eye contact with the blonde, your pupils burning into his. You were very much not ready.

he looked away uncomfortably, clearing his throat with a chin scratch.

"right.. just tell me when you're ready." He closed your door shortly after. You heard the door click and you groan into your hands, shaking your head.

"I'm going to kill myself I swear." You set your hands down, to look once more amongst the piles of clothing. You scanned the pile slowly, eliminating the shirts one by one checking to make sure you didn't just accidentally miss the fabric.

And to your surprise you found it, barely missed it too. It was hidden away from a shirt that had a resemblance to the specific shirt except that shirt was a different color so of course you dismissed it. You never been so happy, lunging forward to retrieve the shirt with a squeal.

You spent no time stripping your current shirt to put on the destined clothing you picked out for the hangout.

"hey idiot kurapika said to hurry─"

"huh?" You turned to see a stunned killua at your doorway. The shirt you wore hugged your curves, outlining every inch of your torso, you could see his blue eyes largen at the sight of you. You turned back to your body mirror to fix your shirt, "oh its just you kil."

"who'd you expect?" he leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. You smile with a scoff, "sassy much?" he didnt say anything but a blush found its way on his pale face, turning away. He rolls his eyes "whatever" he left your room shortly after, his face a mess.

You wondered for a second, but the thought left your mind, kurapika was waiting for you so you needed to hurry the hell up. You grabbed your bag of necessities, throwing it over your shoulder, showered yourself in your favorite perfume and finally ran out of your room. Gon waved to you as he saw you exit your room, he was eating a bowl of ramen and had noodles dangling from his mouth making you snicker.

kil on the other hand was still in a daze, distracted by you. He was so conflicted right now. He reached for an apple to bitterly bite into. You approached the albino after saying bye to his best friend "I'm leaving now'" you smile up at him. He gazed down at you from his height, wanting to come off as unphased as possible but he couldn't help but stare at your chest area, he chokes on his apple.

"oh shit, killua are you oka-"

"YES, I'm.. FINE" he shouts, his face fuming.

you tuck your arms beneath your breasts with a frown. "don't need to yell, asshole." The hunter was now a tomato, why would you do such a gesture, tucking your arms to make your.. mounds more visible to him?! He knew you didn't do it on purpose but.. fuck

they looked so soft, like marshmallows he wanted so badly to lay his head on them and just close his eyes as you held him near.

the thought of that made him feel like leorio, he mentally face palmed. god stop thinking such things, you creep.

"well bye!"

"wait huh─" you pecked his cheek before walking toward the front door, killua turned quickly and shouted in a rush.

"wait where are you even going??"

"to hang out with friends?"

"HUHH, IN THAT??"

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[aihoshiino]

chapter 165 thoughts

Aqua Hoshigan Status: It's Officially Hoshinover

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 1

damn i guess they really did just kill his ass

I'm gonna be so real with you gamers, I kind of don't have a lot to say about this one either lol. Which I acknowledge sounds completely wild given the Everything that happens in it, but most of my meat and potatoes analysis in these reviews comes from breaking down characterization and we're flying through everything at such breakneck pace that we're barely getting any characterization.

It continues to drive me bugfuck insane that Ai is completely absent from this finale despite the importance of 15 Year Lie. Its imagery is plastered all over but whenever we return to it, we just see Aqua. Not only that, but Gotanda is the one who insists on pushing the movie through for Aqua. 15YL as a story about Ai's true self and her tragedy is now officially taking a backseat to being about Aqua's tragic death and legacy. It was already bad enough that we spent so much time in the Movie Arc not actually focusing on Ai to the extent that, as everyone pointed out, based on what we saw on-page it was basically a Sad Kamiki Movie, but this really is just pissing right in the wound at this point lmao.

The funeral scene also serves as the final nail in the coffin for any Secretly Alive Aqua copes, which is kind of a relief. I still don't like how Aqua's death played out, but I think dragging it out for four chapters then going "sorry you thought i was /srs when i was just /jk" would have been infinitely more insulting. I don't like this ending, but I can respect that Akasaka seems to be sticking to his guns on it, even if we still do have like a whole chapter left for him to whip around and go "I WAS /JK ALL ALONG!!!!" but I don't see it happening.

Anyway, yeah! The funeral! Uh. Is it gonna sound weird if I say I felt kind of like… grossed out reading this the first time? Like, I really don't know how else to explain the visceral "why the fuck is the author making me read this" reaction I had to it. I think it's just because Kana is so fucking distraught here and the drama is just so hammy and so over the top that it feels kind of… ech. I dunno. I just really didn't vibe.

It doesn't help that this is part of a much broader pattern in the back half of OnK of Aka getting us right up close into the gory details of a character's complete mental breakdown and suffering and then spend zero time or focus on their recovery. This happened with Ruby all over the Movie Arc and this many times and with this little runway to the end of the series, it just starts to feel exploitative, like a way to cheaply pull at our heartstrings without doing the work to build everyone back up after tearing them down.

also pre-emptively dreading all the fuel this is going to add to the fires of People Who Are Weird And Misogynistic About Kana but she could die saving innocent children from a burning building and people would find reasons to be shitty about her lmao

we really are not seeing ruby's reaction to finding out her brother was dead huh lol

I will say the one thing I didn't Actively Dislike about this chapter was Ruby, though. I was honestly starting to get pretty skeeved out with how many people were gleefully predicting or actively wishing for her immediate suicide purely for ship motivated reasons and I was also worrying that the story was going to pretend that Ruby doesn't like. Have a life and support system outside of Aqua. Yes, she should absolutely be affected by his death but this period of her shutting down only to drag herself back onto her feet that we seem to be getting feels way more in line with pre-Movie Arc flanderization Ruby and I'll take that W where I can get it.

god. I haven't even talked about Kamiki's supposed serial killer cult. I just don't have the strength. Like… that's self-evidently stupid, right? I don't need to explain to you why that's ridiculous and unbelievable? You don't need me to tell you why it's fucking crazy that we're getting this information about the alleged overarching antagonist of the series not only in the second-to-last chapter of the entire series but after he was already dead, right? We can just move on? Ok good. jesus christ.

FINAL CHAPTER NEXT WEEK…

[wokecipher]

p. 1 // p. 2

OKAY- so, awhile back, I made an AU where Bill had kids (twins!), I did this because I thought it'd be funny, and it was supposed to be ironic and stupid.

It's no longer ironic... and I wanna share this silly (incredibly fucked up) AU!

These two are Anthony (they/them) and Tony (he/she/they). I call them the Tony twins. This AU is directly attached to my Family of Shapes AU, but long long after Euclydia is destroyed (mentioning this because Tony is a square, which might confuse some people? Bill's uncle is Tad here, that's why).

The other parent of these two is a shapeshifter named Mendax (it/its), who was preying on Bill at the time to gain information before essentially disappearing from existence before Bill ever finds out.

I have a lot of lore on Mendax, but it's not the focus here right now, so I'll get to it LATER... just know I think about Mendax and Bill's relationship often and they're very fucked up and toxic and not good for each other.

Now the below will be a lot of lore and information about the Tony twins and Bill during all this.

MORE ART AND LORE VVV

So! for anyone familiar with how I perceive Bill's family, they'd know Scalene having a messy, awful pregnancy, and ending up with debilitating postpartum depression is a huge part of it.

Bill is no better than his mother in this regard.

When Bill found out he was going to have kids, he felt angry, miserable, and was mourning Mendax as well (since it up and left before Bill even Knew about all this). Having kids felt like the worst outcome of the relationship and he never even wanted them in the first place.

(hey, it's that drawing I said I'd never reveal the context for!)

Bill doesn't want to be a parent, and having two kids over just one broke him further, mentally speaking.

He wasn't the worst parent, but good God, he wasn't a good one either. Bill was incredibly emotionally abusive towards both children but was dead by the time they were 11, so he hardly had a chance to be there in the first place. (The timeline was my biggest problem to figure out because Mendax left before humans even evolved on earth).

To fix the timeline, I decided he'd have kept the kids in a pocket dimension where time runs so slow that it basically stopped. Millions of years could pass, and it'd be hours at most in that pocket dimension. This is me just coping to make the timeline work, LMAO (but it's in character, Bill doesn't wanna forget about the two somehow and wants to be there when he can. He also wants to keep them both safe and away from anywhere someone could hurt them).

The kids were brought out for Weirdmageddon, though (before Bill was aware there was a barrier and all that).

So long story short, Bill dies, the kids are left alone in the nightmare realm with the rest of the henchmaniacs, and things aren't going well. One of the henchmaniacs (8Ball) turns on the two and tries to kill them (considering how willing he was to turn on Bill, and didn't seem against eating kids, seemed in character enough).

This led to Tony (the square) killing 8Ball in self-defense in front of the rest of the henchmaniacs.

Tony hides Anthony in the pocket dimension and tells them to hide, then leaves to go "handle" things on the outside. She ends up slowly taking over the henchmaniacs group and basically becomes the "New Bill".

Although she's entirely unfocused on humans or anything, and more focused on gaining power to be more like her dad.

Eventually, Anthony leaves the pocket dimension by the time Tony is in his 20s. Anthony was shocked, and still 11, and ends up getting taken care of by some of the henchmaniacs and Tony for awhile.

I have more art on this, but I've hit the tumblr limit of 10, so I'll cut this shorter and make the rest of the plot its own post.

Anthony grows up and becomes a right-hand man for Tony, but after millions of years, they become tired and traumatized from doing all of Tony's dirty work.

Anthony ends up killing Tony.

Tony had slowly become more abusive and cruel over the years, and Anthony just couldn't handle it anymore. They end up taking over Tony's place as the leader of the henchmaniacs... but they don't really do anything. Around this time, they make a deal with the Axolotl (or some related party), to repent for all their crimes. They hated what they had done for Tony and wanted to be and do better.

They end up failing to save or do anything for anyone and ends up in the Theraprism. Unlike their father, they make it through the program and get reincarnated.

I'm still unsure if they would meet with Bill there, if either would know the other was just some many rooms away. I don't even know if they'd learn either was at the Theraprism.

If they did meet again, it would... be awkward for sure!

If you guys would like to hear more about any of these characters let me know, weirdly enough my favorite here is Mendax even tho it's not the focus here.

[yakumtsaki]

AND WE'RE BACK. My cancerous thyroid might have briefly cucked me, but now I'm about to cuck every goddamn semi-incestuous couple in this house. Isn't that right, Baby?

-CAWK CAWK

Exactly! Baby here is a parrot that Meadow rolled the want for and I was like sure, what problems could a parrot possibly cause?

-OPEN THIS DOOR. SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR FOR ME. OPEN IT RIGHT NOW OPEN IT OPEN IT

Um it should open automatically for you wtf?

-OPEN THE DOOR, MAMMAL TRASH, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING

Ok Baby seriously why won't the doors open for you?

-I DON'T KNOW BUT I WILL STAY HERE AND PREVENT EVERYONE FROM GOING TO CLASS BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO STUPID TO USE THE OTHER DOOR

Alright then, clearly there's only one solution to this..

Perfection.

-Um, what happened to the door?

-IT ASKED TOO MANY STUPID QUESTIONS. OUT OF THE WAY, HUMMIE SCUM

Well, Baby was clearly a much needed addition to this house. Now, to the main event: an end to the Year of Sin!

NOP, NEVERMIND, SPOKE TOO SOON, MUST DO THIS INSTEAD. We invite Good Witch over for Spice and she asks to bring a friend and it's FUCKING MALCOLM. LMAO. I simply have to, I can't resist-

-Well well well, if it isn't the famous Malcolm Landgraab IV, the finest intergenerational concubine the world has ever seen!

-Huh?

-You were too much of a straggot to date my father, but I know you won't be able to resist the charms of the much better looking son!

-What?

-God, the conversation is just crackling with sexual tension!

-So, Malc, I believe we should make out. Thoughts?

-Where are those fucking butterflies coming from?

-Your stomach? ;)

No, they're from the Good Witch, my bad y'all.

After many, MANY hours of talking, Malcolm finally accepts a lame wolf whistle-

-but our efforts are interrupted by Felina returning from class. WILL YOU GIVE IT A FUCKING REST FOR ONE DAY

-NEVER

-Sorry kid, but if Malcolm Landgraab is to ever consider bisexuality, it will be for someone who can beat up his own sister.

Wtf kinda rule is that you freak?? You know what, just gtfo-

-NO. Stay here, Malcolm, I'd like to hear stories about you and great-great grandma Victoria!

-Oh wow, now that was a real woman. She could hold her liquor, she could whore around, she could beat up anyone.. No man could ask for anyone more feminine!

You are so right, Malcolm, the only one to ever do it better was Long John Silver!

Ok seriously Barth is there a plan here, why are we wasting valuable time on platonic interactions with this loser?

-I just have a feeling true love will prevail!

What are you even talking about-

UM PWND @ ME WTF. ACR DOES IT AGAIN WITH LITERAL NEGATIVE CHEMISTRY LOL

OH FUCK YES TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. Two Babies with one stone if you will!

-HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ME, YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD

Ya ok GROSS but finally we can put this behind us, 1 down, 200 more to go. Cyan go back to your other cousin-lover while you still can because I'm breaking you up too!

-Don't have to tell me twice!

Ugh.

-Hmmm...

What now, Barth.

-Nothing, I just keep forgetting I actually have two eyes.

Ya, you and me both.

-But now that I possess peripheral vision, I see there's so much to be done in this house.

You have set yourself on fire multiple times, please stop with the household tasks, that's why we have a butler.

-But he never actually does anything!

Yes well, his main job is to answer the door and we no longer have one, but it's still money well spent.

-WELL I WILL FIX THE DISHWASHER OR DIE TRYING

-BARTH NO I STILL LOVE YOU

-FUCK YOU SUNSET, YOU BROKE MY HEART BY SLEEPING WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. HE'S NOT EVEN RELATED TO YOU

Barth no offense but I think I'm ready for your next electrocution to take you out.

-As am I!

-And I!

-GETTING SLAPPED MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY IS STARTING TO AFFECT MY MENTAL HEALTH HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP

You could stop being Satan incarnate?

-No, there has to be a better way!

-How about I sleep with the boyfriend of the only cousin in this house who doesn't already hate me?

Yes, absolutely, and please take another crack at fixing the dishwasher when you're done.

[yurislotusgarden]

pm!dazai for the event and 23?

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 751

ʚїɞ Tw’s: very small mention of death but it's Dazai so what do you expect

ʚїɞ Just Dazai getting used to this thing called feelings lmao, it isn't really mentioned that it's pm!Dazai but yeah... also I have no excuse for not posting for a month, simply didn't feel like writing🤷‍♀️

ʚїɞ anon if you will see this after all these months that this has been in my inbox, I'm sorry for how long this took, but I'm gonna write all the event works I never did😭

ʚїɞ 23: Moving the other one by their waist / the event this is from

He would really appreciate it.

He would really appreciate you not standing up on that unstable stool. He may have not voiced it out, but he really dislikes the idea of you falling over and hurting yourself, he would probably laugh if it was anyone else, but not you.

You were currently getting ingredients out of a higher cupboard, the things you were reaching for were things you didn’t use often to cook, so he could say that it made sense that they were up there, but couldn’t you stand on something more stable? Is that really too much to ask?

“You already took a few things out, isn't that all that you need?” He was hoping that the thing you took out just a moment ago was the last one.

“Nope! I still need one more thing.” It seems life hated him more than he thought.

He did plan on just staying in place and letting you get that one last ingredient, but then the stool decided to be a bitch and scare both of you (not like you knew it scared him) by swaying in a way that a stool for sure damn shouldn't. You didn't fall, no, you simply gripped onto the shelf in front of you until it stabilized, but it was more than enough to make Dazai freak out internally and get him to move after having enough of the whole situation.

It was obvious to him that you were trying to decide whether you should get that last thing or just get down, but he didn't give you time to think before he wrapped his arms around your waist and simply made you get down by pulling you backward, and then setting you down on the floor.

“You're gonna end up dead because of something absolutely stupid, you know that?”

“No, I won't. Besides, falling from that stool wouldn't kill me.”

“Delusional.”

“Look who's talking.”

“You little shit!”

“I may be shorter but don't call me that!”

Maybe he's the one who's gonna end up dead because of something stupid, and that thing may just be you.

He sighed quietly. He still wasn't used to this shit called feelings.

“Even if you didn't die from that, you would still hurt yourself and would probably have to go to a hospital.”

“...”

No answer? 

“What? Did a small fact shut you up so quickly?”

“...You care whether I will land in a hospital or not?” It was just an innocent question, and yet it was more than enough to get him to feel strangely warm and his heart to speed up somewhat. Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of him someday.

“Dazai?”

Oh shit. Don't look up at him like that, you're gonna kill him. 

“No, I simply don't need your parents on my ass-”

“No no no, I saw the look in your eyes, you idiot! You're worried even about the idea of me getting hurt, don't you?” The grin on your face has to be infectious right? Maybe a hidden ability he didn't know about? Because there was no way that he wanted to smile just because you did.

“You're actually crazy [Name], did you ever think about applying for a mental hospital?”

“Did you think of doing that yourself?”

“I- what the fuck?!” He was lowkey speechless inside, but you didn't need to know that. Why didn't he expect that response? It was so damn easy to predict that you would say that back!

“Wait, what do you mean you saw it in my eyes?” It was surprisingly a genuine question. His eyes were like a bottomless void, there was nothing that one could see in them, so how did you see anything like care?

You chuckled softly under your breath as if you could read his thoughts, and he didn't know if he liked that thought or not. “Eyes are the door to the soul, no?”

The door to the soul that he was sure he didn't have.

“By the way, can you let go of my waist now?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course.” The calm tone of his words did not reflect what he felt internally at the moment.

Shit. Fuck. He didn't let go of your waist the entire time. He wished that someone would just shoot him in that moment to save him from the embarrassment that he felt.

.

.

.

…He would lie to himself if he said that it didn't feel nice to hold you so close to him though.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[riacte]

Yeah yeah TNT trap but one bit of the stream that absolutely fascinated me was the neighbours solidarity between Ren Iskall and Beef. Ren and Beef freaking out over Iskall running back and targeting False if they ever let sight of him. Ren's brain having dived into a "it's us against them" mentality and being anxious around the mountain people because of course he does that, it’s his favourite hermit’s life on the line. Of course he would see as some sort of war even though nothing happened. Ren naming their voice chat group something boring and nondescript like “neighbourhood planning” so no one would join. He’s both still Ministering and keeping up with the theatrics by pretending to be in a so painfully boring meeting. Neighbourhood mafia boys trying to kill Bdubs (for False). Iskall being like lmao you guys are stupid. Lol. Anyways.

And it was so funny how when the trap was done, they were like ahhaha lol see you guys later. Or never. We never knew each other.

AND THEN BDUBS LOGGED ON.

Which naturally freaked everyone out. And what was fucking funny is that other people like Grian, Joe, and Hypno were online and aware of the scheme. They even made references to it in chat. Grian and Joe at least were watching Ren’s stream, because of course he was streaming a top secret operation (and Beef later was like WHY ARE YOU EVEN STREAMING and Ren was like 🥺 this is why I’m a bad reaper). But I don’t think anyone snitched. Everyone acted normal, if not nosy.

The part of the stream that charmed me and gave everyone the impression of “oh, we’re REALLY in it now” was when Ren was alone in his Gigahut and someone whispered to him about Bdubs being on. And those three neighbourhood members met up in Ren’s hut and just sat there panicking and talking about Bdubs. It was so tense. They were the image of three scared whimpering people huddled together on a sofa in the relative safety of their neighbourhood (far away from Bdubs’ trap). (On a side note, I’m always glad when builds are somehow the backdrop for dramatic and tense moments because the build instantly feels lived in and the space feels used. Like there’s a core memory attached to the build now.)

And in the end, they decided to venture out to spy on Bdubs. Which they did for an hour. With spyglasses and crouching. And Ren, good old Ren, was pushed centerstage because he was the second reaper to ever exist and still hadn’t gotten a kill AND he was dead set on supporting his False, and since it was the final two, Bdubs has to go.

Watching the hermitchat go by while those three were intensely studying Bdubs like a nature documentary was hilarious. Seemingly nondescript discussions. The trio panicking and then Grian sent out “have faith”, which might be in reference to G’s own fishing thing but the trio took it as a double message for their own plan (since G was watching the stream). All the whispering. It’s killing me. And False logging on, mostly unprotected (because they were all away!!) and Cleo being like yayy I have no allegiance to False I’ll blow up whatever <3 And False saying she needed a miracle and those three were like WE ARE TRYINGGG (False was aware the three were trapping). Ren’s refusal to say something in chat because he’s a red name and he’s tense.

Ren had to be the one to activate the trap (even though Beef was the one who suggested it and Iskall laid out the redstone). SO the other two had to leave him alone while they engaged Bdubs in discussion so Ren could sneak in and blow them up. Our poor reaper had to fly solo with 2.9k people on his stream. “It’s just you and me, chat”. He’s sat there for three hours. He’s missing dinner.

AND BEEF YELLING AT REN TO ACTIVATE THE TRAP WAS SO STRESSFUL. Even when the ruse was up, and even when Beef and Iskall were like hahaha Ren you SUCK so bad, Ren continued with his last shred of hope and absolute last shred of dignity. He lied. And Beef was probably like 👀 Ren hasn’t given up yet! Gotta distract Bdubs more!

I haven’t watched much Beef before this but now I’m quite charmed with him. He’s great with improv, fucking hilarious to bounce off with, and kept calm and steady throughout the operation. I love how him and Iskall had to hold Ren back from charging in like a madman and blowing himself up because doggy self sacrificial tendencies. Beef was the brains and common sense. And I love how supportive he was of Ren the entire time.

🥺 Beefrenskall. The trappers. The neighbours. Flying high their banner for False. Wanting to be a miracle for her. 🥺🥺🥺

[bleue-flora]

tbh to me c!sapnap is on the same level of betraying c!dream as c!sam. It may seem far-fetched considering what c!sam did and considering we don't have much real lore content with c!sapnap or c!dreamnap, but when you look at what we DO have, it's kind of a picture

like, he's not just some stupid or short-sighted character, as it might seem at first glance - we have a ton of evidence that he understands perfectly well that prison makes c!dream physically and mentally ill, but he agrees with it. In the dialogue with c!michael he literally says "dream fucked up, prison fucked him up in another sense, but it doesn't matter, cause dream has to get better and become *my* dream again, let him stay in prison and improve, even if it breaks him idc", like wtf is this? funny, but at the same time, c!sapnap doesn't visit dream more than once, how will he know that c!dream is making progress? In c!sapnap's head, prison is supposed to be a rehabilitation for c!dream, only no one checks his progress in stopping being a "fucked up", he either sits there completely alone or people go there to hurt him and c!sapnap understands and acknowledged it, but he doesn't give a shit. I'm sorry, but this gives off sam's "I thought I broke his will to do something like that". He obviously doesn't care about c!dream and just wants his good old *convenient* friend, and he doesn't care about the consequences.

But he's not just passively harming c!dream, he's doing it actively. If the threat could still be interpreted as an emotional outburst, something he could say and regret, then his other actions clearly say the opposite. Like, the dude literally stalked and harassed c!dream for months after he found out where he lived??

The revival book was more important to him than torture. Even in the beginning, he didn't care about c!dream's reputation, when c!wilbur and c!tommy dragged it into the dirt for no reason, and he repeatedly went against c!dream or supported things that directly harmed c!dream. For me, one of the most telling scenes is c!sapnap and c!george's meeting with mexican dream's ghost, where c!sapnap, without any reason, pins the explosion of El Rapids on c!dream, and then, when he finds out that actually c!quackity was the one who did it, c!sapnap immediately says that they urgently need to go and find out why he did it, to check if he's okay and all that. This is literally the attitude you'd expect from c!tommy, to attribute every bad event to c!dream, but no, this is his so-called best friend! And of course, he only wants to know the reasons for an action when someone else does a bad action, but not c!dream - well, of course, cause it's clear that c!dream reasons are "being evil" or smth.

So, I've been in my c!sapnap hate arc for over two years now and you all should join me lmao

I didn't think I'd write SO much, but emotions took over after reading the new chapter of your fic and some of your posts, sorry abt that :"^

[context a & b]

Honestly, in my opinion his betrayal is almost worse than Sam’s, which is saying something since he literally enabled and facilitated daily torture. But like Sam wasn’t Dream’s self proclaimed brother, and at least Sam’s delusion kinda makes sense. Sapnap is just like - the chicken tastes rubbery and overcooked, so I put it in the oven and then it tasted burnt, so I put it back in the oven to help the taste and at some point I’ll take it out of the oven and then it’ll taste good again. No idea how long that’ll take, and no don’t be ridiculous I’m not gonna check on it. I swear though if anyone touches my chicken before it tastes good again like so much as removes it from the oven or seasons it I’m gonna throw it in the trash… vs Sam who’s like - the chicken tastes rubbery but I spent money on it so I’m gonna put it in the oven and turn it to charcoal so at least then it won’t be a complete waste…

ya know? Like at least Sam was corrupted by power, financial benefit, manipulated a bit, and had the blood of a “child” on his hands. Sapnap doesn’t even have that, he has a life long best friend who he heard made a speech about not caring about anything and then later a speech about wanting to control everyone, a fish in a item frame and a letter saying “thanks for visiting”…

Well I don’t know about the “even if it breaks him” I don’t think he is thinking that directing about Dream’s suffering if that makes sense, but Sapnap is delusional no doubt. I also don’t know if he even cares that much about the book in general, he just doesn’t seem to given a damn about the torture. He seems to really just be about the fear of what Dream might do and how he needs to be stopped before that.

And you do have a point, in the beginning even as his “brother” he on many occasions went against him, down to the very first disc war where they killed him multiple times. I mean if Sapnap weren’t American, he’d have probably been right alongside clingy duo in L’manberg and stuff… oh I had no idea about the El Rapids thing but am also not surprised…

What do you even mean, I am literally an engineer of this Sapnap hate train 🚂 choo choo! I be shoveling coal to keep this engine running ya know. like literally the more lore I watch the more he actually just kills me.

but anyways, I mean you read the chapter (and presumably the one before) so you know my thoughts on Sapnap lol. ;D

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR rambles wanna know what's funnier than 24? ...25

Huh so Vio's confusion from earlier makes a lot more sense.

Link was shutting them off from listening much again...

Nice going Link.

I'm sure this isn't causing massive communication issues or smth...

I think this just speaks to how LITTLE Link trusts Vio to sympathize with his mental health struggles that he just cuts him out of it all together.

Also the dialogue here for the middle panel:

Vio doesn't KNOW for a fact Blue was in on those conversations...but it's a fact he WAS thus him being there in the visual representation. Vio isn't actually aware of Blue being in on it.

I'm sure he's at the point of questioning that though...

I wouldn't say it's Blue and Green with trust issues Red, it's Link X'D

And he for sure DOES distrust you.

Furthering the point Link is broken thus the team is broken.

Shadow drops by cause the convo with Zelda is done (Jeez it's been awhile since I've looked at these pages lmao)

And Vio asks about his hair which...FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT.

Answer a question with a question...nice one Shadow Link. 🙄

He's very sensitive about the ganon hair haha.

Which is why I think his questioning on if Vio LIKES IT is genuine even if it's there to steer the convo somewhere else.

Vio's too smart.

Though, Red weirdly wants vio to stfu about actually ASKING...Which uh...

I'd like to remind you of THIS PANEL where Link's purposely being obtuse about the Triforce on his own hand after their Triforce discussion.

Then we get to shitpost territory with Shadow burying the lead on Dark to talk about how he and Green had sex. Which just...

OKAY SHADOW X'D

Vio's response is...interesting.

I think this is where a lot of people might have realized this is a poly story lmfao.

Vio gives no fucks in fact he seems INTO IT despite him saying he "Doesn't care" sure buddy.

Vio and Shadow's "Relationship" is up in the air on what the hell it even IS at this point and Vio is butt at hiding the fact he loves Green soooo.

Works out for both that they like Green. XD

Red's over here losing his shit.

Shadow AGAIN brushes over Dark just calling him someone they need to be introduced to....Lmfao.

Vio's mention of looking for Blue is kinda sweet. He cares. Shadow on the other hand knows Dark's handling it so is fine with leaving poor blue 😭

And red.

lmfao. Bye Red.

Genuinely giving him ANYTHING to do early on was...DIFFICULT.

I have a story thread for him but BUILDING to that was...Not fun for his character X'D

So often he got shafted but I hope when he has his time to shine people enjoy it haha.

Sad boy hours.

Blue's back though!

...This is so random but I'm so glad I started doing colored text boxes I gotta THINK who's talking reading back on these X'DDDD

Green's so sweet giving Blue a lil hug.

Poor Green's frazzled out of his mind and Blue's just struggling to talk emotions.

They're a mess. X'D

This entire interaction is so funny to me.

"What did he DO...?" GREEN. WHAT DO YOU THINK!?

I think Blue's justified in being a LITTLE irked that this weird curse entity was sent to get him instead of one of his teammates X'D

but also: they had no idea where he ran off too lmfao. Dark Link's got a Link radar he can find him easy.

One of those things where there was no GOOD solution to this and Green did the best he could, but Blue's frustration imo is still very justified.

Poor Green trying to rationalize his choices and Blue's just like "Stfu"

And smacks Dark link X'D

Poor Dark.

"you look like a dumbass with a squid on his head" might be one of my favorite FSR blue lines.

Green's addition of "i feel like a dumbass" is so stupid XDDD

Green's beyond strung out just letting Dark sit on his head while him and Blue talk about wtf they're gonna do about this.

It's really fun looking back into this transition period where half the cast knew about Dark and the others didn't really.

I remember wanting to push past it quickly because I wanted to get to juicy territory and interactions.

...I love Dark hugging Green's hair. He's so cute.

it's worth mentioning AGAIN that Green and Blue have VERY DIFFRENT experiences with Dark with EACH OTHER but ESPECIALLY VIO.

Dark TORTURED that dude lmfao.

Vio met ALPHA BUILD DARK LINK LMFAO

Green chastising Dark for doing his typical shit with Blue lmfao.

HE TRIED GREEN HE REALLY DID.

"Blue is the color of difficult" will now proceed to live rent free in Blue's mind X'DDDD

I'm sure I've mentioned it but Dark Link struggles to speak properly in this form. (it's a form that doesn't require him much effort or energy to maintain thus...doesn't have a lot of "Features" lmfao.)

Blue pulls Dark off poor Green's head to give him head scratches.

I'd panic if I sat on Blue's bare thighs too Dark. Look at him go polite gentleman.

Blue's being HONEST with his FEELInGS.

What a treat.

Dark smacked some sense into him during that fight hah.

Poor Blue has anxiety about being Link now. Poor dude.

Blue just wants to get intros over and done with knowing stuff's gonna be hard. But uhhh....

Dark Link isn't a fan.

Lmfao.

Didn't have him turn back into his hylian form to sit in Blue's lap wym.

Poor Dark doesn't wanna do stuff with people rn. he's burnt out.

Which...FAIR.

Dude had a meltdown with Blue he's exhausted.

Green's genuine horror paired with "WHAT DID YOU DO!?" just reminds me of that scene from the Cuphead show where King Dice shouts the same thing X"DDD

Though: it's kinda sad that Dark was 100% right in being nervous/hesitant to meet the others...

Green's protective Blue that's his baby!

Obligatory Dark says smth fucking weird cause it's funny.

Green's willing to let Dark have a break while...Blue has a good point too.

Poor Green doesn't get the peace he wants. 😭

meanwhile Dark's just blatantly staring at Blue X'D And he's put off by it.

Blue...c'mere I got a secret-

HE LIKES YOU-

Being a dick won't push him away Blue. He's in love with VAATI you're a drop in the bucket in terms of rudeness.

it's been established: Dark doesn't know how to handle being PERSEIVED at the moment. Especially by the Links. He's still super shy.

Poor Dark, blue makes fun of his stutter. 😭

Green rightfully tells him off

Dark holding their hands is so sweet.

He's someone that holds his heart on his sleeve to his own detriment. Just wanting them to know he's happy to be with them and that the day is nice (presumably because he's with them.)

Blue's being a bit of a negative butt but concedes a bit when Green says he's happy too.

Him poofing back to being his "Squid" form on Green's face just personally is funny.

It's so silly and cements he has ZERO idea of personal space.

It's even worse for Green because Green's scared of tentacles. 😭 (wanna have that brought up at some point...but it's due to the vaati fight)

Lmfao. Red you're so annoying.

"ARE WE THERE YET!?"

Literally third wheeling the Vidow X'DD

Vio out here starting shit lmfao.

Shadow knows too.

LMFAO Vio trying to find solutions is uh...KINDA an issue now hah.

He's super out of the loop about the curse now so...ouch.

Vio's being a bit of a bitch boy about it because he's bitter.

Reasonably so but ooomf.

Vio my duuuude...pls c'mon man. Act mature. 😭

Vio casually tipping right over Blue's current anxieties about going back to that. Which...Blue has zero self control so NOW WE'RE DEEP IN SHIT LMFAO.

And Vio's response is FAIR.

Link cut him out so much he's missing a FUCK ton of context about how BAD it was for everyone.

NICE GOING LINK.

Blue's ALSO pretty justified in being PAST the point of WANTING to discuss things with Vio due to how dismissive he's been about their pain.

it's a self fulfilling cycle of bullshit they've trapped themselves in.

Blue really fucked up in mentioning that Link's basically NOT gonna happen anymore in saying "We're not compatible as a person"

Lmfao not red hiding behind the couch. Coward, Vio feels ALONE right now in wanting to return to being Link, and you're the only one VAGLEY on his side. And instead of trying to mediate or help he just leaves Vio to get more and more defensive as Blue yells at him till he runs away to Link's room.

Well damn.

Everyone's expressions after Vio throws his tantrum is...INTERESTING.

Green's HORRIFIED and he's glitching WAY more than before.

Blue's in shock. Probably at how CHILDISH that response was not expecting vio to blow up at him back.

Shadow's also equally horrified as Green.

Red...Red's weird.

Red just stares kind of unfazed. Mild surprise maybe.

"huh...weird" kind of face.

That's quickly brushed by though with Green starting to glitch WORSE.

Blue's concerned.

Green starts gooping. And not in the fun way.

Blue tries to console him and gets...Corrupted for a lack of a better term.

His arm corrupting into Green's.

Link's body contortions and glitching are real similar to this.

It's been shown a few times that their mental state affects their appearance, but NOW it can affect OTHERS appearances.

Green at this point has been pushed to stress and anxiety till he broke poor guy, he's been worried about everyone's safety and been trying to do what would help them and it just hasn't worked out.

Shadow's stuck not sure what to do. As a Shadow he was forced to do NOTHING while Link had moments like this.

Blue snaps him out of it taking charge.

I've always considered Blue second in command. ESPECIALLY in FSR.

He was the only other color Link trusted enough to confide in other than Green and able to pull his head out of his butt to help Green AND Vio in this situation.

Blue's VERY aware of WHY Green's panicking rn. (he's worried vio's going to harm himself in some way...not a stretch to make that assumption and it's brought up later but YEAH that's why he freaked out.)

Vio just needed to have a bitch fit in his room for a bit though and didn't mean to cause that fear.

If he knew I don't think he would have left quite in that way.

but again: Link kinda shot them in the foot leaving half the team aware of shit and the other half NOT.

Either way Shadow's got a job to do.

Lmfao

"Damn it link... you ass" makes me laugh. Blue's so terrible with words.

Turns out Blue mainly was on team "let's not be link!" BECAUSE he was worried about Green having too much shit on his shoulders.

HE WASN'T WRONG.

Some interesting thoughts there pal.

I've always wondered what kind of pressure Green must have felt to be LIKE Link and also be the leader.

Like that's double pressure there.

Being link but BETTER while only being a 1/4th of him sounds like such a task weighing his mentality down.

He's only assigned to that role because...well he's wearing GREEN. not really because of any other reason.

He's just as dumb as the other three.

I've always found it interesting, usually the leader type characters are the Vio's of the group.

Book smart and a bit stuck up.

but instead we get green and...I've joked he's diet Link but fr lol he KINDA IS.

What he lacks makes his personality more so than what he HAS.

His selfishness and ego getting removed making him IMEDIATELY want to work together for instance.

Anyway green analysis aside, Blue acknowledging he fucked up here is good.

The completely black background making you ONLY focus on these two talking was for good reason, Green's weird word bubbles too.

Reality feels like it's breaking around them and if this was voice acted I imagine Green's voice sounding distorted and disjointed here.

Like this is just his thoughts repeating to himself about what Link BEGGED him to do.

Both their glitching just getting worse as the paneling goes by.

Green's all sorts of fucked up. over leaving the other three because he was angry at them. So much guilt is harbored there now over that action.

Also I just wanna point out how brave Blue is.

Touching Green is PAINFUL for him, he yanked his hand back when he touched him initially. He also SAW the corruption it left behind and still chose to hug him here.

Like for all he knows they could become that Link monster thing again but he cares more about Green than that.

Blue's the goat.

Everyone telling Green stuff he's needed to hear.

Even Dark came out to help.

Dark's lines are super fun just because mmmmm it gets into Dark and Green's relationship and i like Darkgreen XD

Green did MASSIVELY change Dark's mission by appealing to his desire to be a hero and changing his mind.

Without Green the others would be SO COOKED.

Dark doesn't consider his mission a failure because he changed course a little and neither should Green.

They're very sweet for each other. QuQ

Not them slapping each other with pillows like children. 😭

Vio, Shadow, you both are too old for this shit.

I flip flop between finding this scene funny or disturbing.

I mean at the end of the day it's a couple smacking the shit out of each other due to their emotional issues. 😭 That's not healthy.

But also...the imagery is so silly looking and they're not actually HURTING each other.

Idk I feel like you could look at it either way.

Shadow mentions it here, but Green was worried about Vio's physical safety. Which....Vio doesn't get. Because Link wanting to game end himself has been NOT shared with him.

Vio's deep in his own insecurity atm.

This is a reference to what was said in the OG manga , that everyone was holding Vio back buuuut our purple buddy feels differently.

Especially with how he feels really bad rejection at the moment.

Vio wrongly assumes people don't want to be link because HE'S THERE. Which isn't true.

Shadow feels bad cause a lot of their issues are wrapped up in the whole Vidow arc of the manga lmfao.

Shadow feeling his OWN guilt over waking Link up which...Dark called it just sayin-

Also points out that Blue "is an ass" but yeah Blue could have worded himself better here. X'D

...We reached the image cap ouch. X'D

Continued vidow later on muahah.

[dr-spectre]

Ik you've never owned splatoon 1 (me neither), but I'm curious. Since you're THE callie guy, how does her losing the final splatfest in 2016 make you feel? As a team callie myself i don't give a shit lmao

Honestly? I don't give a fuck LOL! It was 8 years ago. I dont care. I know it was REALLY toxic and I've seen horrible Miiverse messages but, it's in the past and I dont care...

......

...Actually... wait... YOU KNOW WHAT?!?! FUCK IT! I CARE A LITTLE!!! BECAUSE IT GAVE US THIS SON OF A BITCH!!!

YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS VERSION OF CALLIE AND HOW PEOPLE DESCRIBE HER!!

THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE.... THE CAUSE OF MY UNHAPPINESS....

Hypno Callie....

If only Calllie would have won then maybe I could finally be happy in life and not have to worry about defending this stupid damn squid woman. /j

If Marie was hypnotised instead then I wouldn't be going all crazy about people using the correct terminology because I'm THE Callie guy and not the Marie guy.

Also i just wanna say too, the way people talk about her is so fucking weird too, like people get so weird about Hypno Callie it's kinda worrying. So many people treat her as some damsel in distress, some object, some woman to get saved and she has zero agency. Let's players say this, reviewers, casual fans, etc, say this weird shit.

You really wanna fucking come up to me and say that Callie was not only suffering from being busy and lonely, but then SAY THAT WHEN SHE WAS FULLY ALONE DJ OCTAVIO SNATCHED HER UP AND THEN FORCED THE SHADES ONTO HER?!?! BRAINWASHING HER AND REMOVING HER MEMORIES?!??!

Why do you want that for fucking CALLIE CUTTLEFISH?!?! WHY?!?! Why do you want and preach about this fucking vile and evil and malicious shit in Splatoon?! Why do you want Octavio to be this unredeamble monster who kidnaps people and forces Octarain Ideals into their heads? Why do you want Calllie to be treated like a fucking object rather than a character who is suffering from mental illness and just needs to get reminded of the positive things in her life? Why? WHY?!?!?!?!?

....ranted about Hypno Callie again... sorry...

[unofficially-ace]

Star thoughts/liveblog (spoilers ahead ofc)

- If Splashtail is holding kittens hostage have you guys tried….driving him out? It’s literally one guy against the whole of Riverclan, just keep him away from the kits and there won’t be an issue???

- The conflict is kinda stupid I can’t lie, this could be solved if everyone in Riverclan wasn’t such a dumbass

- Cloverfoot is going to die in this battle I can smell it

- I can’t believe we’re getting fascism explained to us through warrior cats

- Berryheart fell down the crunchy mom -> alt right pipeline real

- This book is making me like Tigerheartstar wtf

- Frostpaw I would die for you

- Harestar you’re the most annoying mf ever please die

- What is it with Riverclan and their camp being turned into a prison every other series

- Graysludge and Mistslime are objectively hilarious names

- What happened to Splashtail being compelling why is he just cartoonishly evil and insane now

- There are not enough supporters of Splashtail to make give this any stakes come onnnn, he has like 5 people actually on his side

- I love Berryheart she’s so fucked up

- Wtf is Owlnose doing, why is he siding with Splashtail for no reason??

- Sunbeam you are so stupid my god

- ‘She didn’t realise what she was doing’ yes she did lmao

- RIP Berryheart you were the most compelling villain of the series

- That makes 2 dead female villains and we’re stuck with the boring male one….

- Owlnose you just killed someone don’t try and make me feel bad for you

- ‘The last thing she ever did was save you’ just like Curlfeather….the parallels…

- This feels like setup for Froststar ngl

- I can’t believe Nightheart is the only guy with a braincell here

- Is fogstar going to be a thing??? She hasn’t even been mentioned once before this book

- Riverclan is so stupid it actually pains me

- Why are we still calling them Greysludge and Mistslime that’s literally so mean lol, just call them by their apprentice names

- The tension is actually really good

- Not exactly liking how Splashtail seems to be genuinely mentally I’ll and that’s why he’s evil…

- He’s fuckin dead and we’re only halfway through?? Now what?

- So glad Frostpaw got to be the one to kill him though, that was so satisfying

- Riverclan you can justify all you want but at the end of the day you’re fuckin stupid

- The second he started doing murders y’all should’ve turned on him and it would all be fine

- Hi Mothwing when did you get here

- Lol fuck those guys (fognose and breezeheart)

- Goddamn Berryheart’s funeral scene is some of the best writing I’ve seen in a warriors book for a while, these are genuinely interesting emotions to explore

- Ewww I don’t wanna think about frost having a crush on splash stop bringing this up my god

- Oh fuck yes Frostpaw and Curlfeather angst

- If the rest of this book is just emotional conflict I will be more than happy with it

- Don’t kill off Frostpaw I swear to god

- Kate Cary I’m putting my trust in you

- This scene would make an incredible animation

- Might be my new favourite chapter of warrior cats ever holy shit that SLAPPED

- Fuck off Nightheart I need more Frostpaw

- Having Nightsky and Nightheart is so confusing

- Thunderclan can’t go two seconds without an argument (usually started by Lionblaze)

- I kinda love this type of conflict, it’s much more interesting than Splashtail being crazy

- Podlight is still here???

- Tree does something as a mediator for the first time ever

- Who tf is emberstar (if they’re relevant in Riverstar’s SE then I haven’t read it lol)

- The fact that I genuinely can’t tell if Frostpaw will survive is so good

- Please let the rest of the chapters be Frostpaw I don’t gaf about the others right now

- Whistlebreeze is the cutest name

- Frostdawn!!!! Also cute as fuck

- ICESTAR REALLLLL LETS GO

- Oh my god this chapter is gonna make me cry

- Sunbeam is pregnant and I want to explode

- And that’s a wrap on ASC , genuinely actually enjoyed this book, especially the second half. The emotional conflict was really interesting I gotta be honest, Frostdawn’s almost-dead scenes were so fun and had really good tension. The conflict with Splashtail ended up getting really stale, I’m glad he was killed halfway through because I couldn’t have dealt with that being dragged out for a whole book

[griefabyss69]

First Fic Tag Game

Gooooooood morning(etc), I've been tagged in a few games and I have them all written in a document so I don't forget! Revolutionary. I might not get to them all but I appreciate being tagged anyway <3 Rules: Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

Tagged by @postmodernau @steddie-island @occasionaloverboy, thank you!!!!

Here's from either my first fic or my second fic, I'm not sure. The writing is definitely........ old. And unedited. Maybe a WIP forever, but I might take some of the ideas from it and put them into something new. I think it's still fun and it's kinda charming to look back on it! I think I was trying to organize my thoughts as much as Eddie was in here lmao :' )

~~~~~~~

It didn't take a long time to notice the traumatic habits of his new friends. Some of them were more obvious, out in the open and almost unashamed.

They all carried some kind of weapon with them. They all memorized each other's favorite songs. Code names, planned check ins, and strict radio etiquette, all impressively adhered to even with the youngest ones.

Nightmares and moments of freezing up weren't really discussed but they were quietly worked through in the background of their lives. Everyone seemed to have a no-judgment thing going on for that, the most important rule even if it was unspoken. Eddie quickly noticed that Steve was really good at being a solid person to lean on. He usually noticed first when someone needed a grounding hand on their shoulder, a reality check, or even just a snack.

This was a part of a map Eddie had created in his head, of everyone's social roles.

There were little arrows going to and from everyone, different colors indicating connections like who were best friends, who were partners (and exes), who relied on who for important things. Everyone had at least a few arrows going out and coming in, from family members and friends and of course, support coming in from Steve.

Steve had plenty of arrows going out, but the only one coming in that Eddie would put down in ink is from Robin. It had it's own special color, a hot pink that he doesn't think either of them would like. In his mental image of the color key, it's labeled Platonic Soulmates.

Some of the arrows directed towards Steve had little lines blocking them off. Mostly from the Little Hellion's moms, who he think would have tried to adopt him already if he wasn't already an adult. Another is from Nancy, and he can understand why Steve keeps her at an arm's length, even if he thinks he's being stupid.

Eddie tries not to think about any of this too hard, he has his map because it helps him keep track of who lives with who and who has fucked off to California for a while and if he should be worried about any of the kids. He tries not to think about Steve, who can handle whatever life tries to throw at him, even when it's Hell itself.

He focuses on the kids, learning the rest of the horrors that they went through before he arrived on the scene.

Planning campaigns is a trickier task now, given that everyone has at least one thing that will make them go quiet and cold. He didn't really notice it before, usually just thought someone was having a bad day and made sure to secretly go easier on them for the rest of the session, but now he wonders how he could've been so unaware.

He starts a list pretty quickly into planning the first one after he's out of the hospital. At first it had just been the Hellfire Club and anything that he knows to avoid for them, but he expands it to everyone he sees on a regular enough basis. For easy reference, and also because he can't squash the naive hope that some of them will want to join in one day.

He's got something written down for everyone, except for Steve.

As much as he tries to not let it get to him, it bothers him. He KNOWS Steve has nightmares, even if he's never been around for them.

The more he tries to ignore this missing piece of information, the harder the creature that dictates his focus digs its claws in. It feels weird, like he's being a creep, to want to know what will upset Steve that badly, the fact that he wants the knowledge for good not really helping.

He used to keep his distance from him, only hanging out with him if someone else was going to be there, and keeping the conversations mostly superficial or about the kids.

He starts to talk to him more, hangs out with him while he's working even when Robin isn't. It's honestly nice, Steve is surprisingly easy to get along with, and when he first offers to let Eddie come over and watch movies with him all night, he doesn't turn him down.

They quickly make a habit of it, Steve surprisingly astute for someone who jokes about being stupid all of the time. Any time Eddie hasn't been able to sleep or is starting to feel hollowed out, he ends up watching movies with him that night, even if Steve has to work in the morning.

For all of his observations and cataloging, Steve seemed to be doing just fine.

This should have been an answer, but the thing inside of him just digs its claws in further. He wouldn't say he's becoming obsessed, but that's only because he's good at performing his own personality that he can lie to even his own mind.

Spending more time together doesn't leave Eddie unscathed, though. The reason of his initial distance elbows it's way back to the top of his List of Struggles, bringing CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP down to number two.

The Number One Worst Struggle in Eddie's life is now his giant hard-on for Steve.

Nobody with taste could blame him, but his life would be much easier if he didn't have to look him in the face the morning after having weird (hot) dreams about him. Sometimes he falls asleep beside him on the couch and dreams about Steve using him as a pillow, which isn't as sexy but makes his face get hot just the same. Sometimes he stares at his hands and wonders what it'd be like to hold them, which is worse, because at least he understands his sexual fantasies.

He can't expect his dick to make good decisions, but he'd like it if the rest of him would.

About two months into torturing himself with the magic of friendship, he finally figures him out, though. It's not surprising that it took so long, it's not as simple as avoiding demons that look like bats or big bads that get into people's minds. To be honest he thinks it simply required getting to know him, and spending a lot of fucking time with him. Someone who was less observant (obsessed) probably wouldn't have figured it out.

Steve's terrified of being idle. Great at sitting still, doesn't really fidget which is something that Eddie finds more alien than his giant house.

He just doesn't have unplanned time. If he's not working or doing what Robin calls his Single Mom activities, he's usually running errands or doing a favor for someone, often finding an excuse to hang out with whoever's around. With enough people, it's not obvious unless they all decided to compare their time spent with him.

To be honest it makes a lot of sense to Eddie, he doesn't like to feel like a sitting duck either. Steve takes it further though, seems to think if he's not a constant presence in people's lives they'll just forget about him.

[itjazzbicch]

Best I Ever Had

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader 

First time writing for Toji, so I hope I did well! 

Summary: When the reader's boyfriend leaves her for someone new, she's mentally in a dark place, going out to take her mind off things and failing, running into a close friend who takes her home and learns what's going on, making her forget all about her ex and giving her the best she's ever had...

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) Swearing, mentions of drinking, foreplay, slight degradation at first, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it), creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, hair-pulling, choking, p*ssy slap, slight praise, the reader is mentioned to be smaller than Toji (this is just sinful lmao)

Word Count: 1.5k 

"Finally going to tell me why you went out all dressed up like a slut?"

Just my luck, Toji was the one who had to find me walking home from the bar, barging right into my apartment. Heading inside, I explained:

"I needed a drink, but it didn't help, so I left."

Plopping on my couch and making himself right at home, his eyes wandered around, noticing something different and asking more questions:

"The drink didn't help with what?"

Stopping in the archway that connected my living room and kitchen, I gazed at the photo I had of me and my now ex-boyfriend, putting it face down and mumbling:

"I just don't want to feel like I did last night."

Watching me and realizing what was wrong, I ignored him as he got up, came to the kitchen to see me with a bottle, cracked it open, and went to take a swig till he took my hand, placing the bottle down.

"What?" I only glared at him, annoyed because I couldn't read his intentions, till he got close enough to whisper in my ear:

"You're that worked up over that boy?"

I had never felt so conflicted; I was a bit offended that he was belittling my feelings and turned on by the tone of his voice, able to feel specific intentions within it.

"He wasn't just some boy," I whispered, fighting tears as I recalled the night before, my ex telling me that he didn't want me anymore and found someone new.

"I'd say it's his loss," Standing behind me now and glancing at my cleavage, then down and looking at how short this dress was, how he could still tower over me even with the heels I was wearing, his thoughts leaking with a whisper, "Because damn."

"Didn't you just say I was dressed like a slut just a bit ago?" I scoffed, shaking my head at him, taking a deep breath from a slight rush in my blood as his hands found my hips:

"You just don't dress like this often. It's slutty but fucking hot."

Breathing deeper and deeper, he pushed me toward the counter, hips against my ass, putting up the bottle, hands trailing to my thighs and slithering up dress slowly:

"How about you give up the drinks, and I make you forget about that stupid boy?"

There was no denying that Toji was hot, a real piece of work, but a sexy one. Feeling his bulge hardening against me, I needed a distraction, and I had the opportunity right in front of me.

Turning around carefully, he had such a cocky smirk on his face, still toying with my thighs and dress:

"So?"

"Fuck it," I whispered, snatching him by the shirt and yanking his lips into mine, growling at him, "You better give me the best dick I've ever had."

A deep, devilish chuckle rumbled in his chest as his hands about tore my panties in two, tongues clashing and not wasting any time to pump a finger into my dripping cunt, quickly too, getting me soaked and prepped for what we both wanted to get straight to.

Adding a second finger made my kissing sloppy, moaning at a stretch, pumping two knuckles deep with his thumb antagonizing my clit, my knees starting to shake as I pressed my forehead against his, biting my lip hard.

"Cum, then I'll fuck you real good, alright?" Nudging my head up, it fell back with moans pouring out, gripping the edge of the counter hard and gasping:

"I'm cuming! I'm cuming!"

"Oh yeah," He hummed, still pumping as I clenched and pulsated around his fingers, pulling his hand up to see his fingers creamed, "Now, be a good girl and clean up your mess."

Holding up his fingers and heading for my lips, I opened wide and took them in, sucking hard as I tasted my mess and cleaned his fingers, his thumb caressing my lower lip as he commanded:

"Get rid of the dress, but leave the heels on."

Doing as told, his eyes slowly trailed up and down my body, taking in every curve and detail, fixed on how hard my nipples were, pulling down his pants to free his cock. My eyes immediately fixed and widened at his size, so focused that I squealed a little when he picked me up by the thighs, only having to glance to aim his cock straight into my throbbing cunt.

"Oh shit-" I gasped hard, clinging to his shoulders; I'd never had someone his size, jaw-dropping as he used his immaculate strength, holding the back of my thighs tight and keeping my legs spread, pulling his cock back to just his tip and slamming every inch back into me, "Shit!"

I never fell apart as quickly as I did then, moans pinging throughout my home, tears stinging in the corner of my eyes from how tight the friction was and how his hips pounded into mine so hard, his tip pummeling every sweet spot clear up to my cervix.

"Fuck," He smirked against my neck, chuckling and biting me, "Your tight little pussy can barely take all this."

"I want it!" I whined out, nails scratching at the back of his neck, all the dirty, invasive thoughts spitting out my mouth, "I want all of it. Ruin me."

"Better watch talking like that," Brushing his nose past mine, his eyes grew dark, but I could feel how he liked the mess he was turning me into, teasing, "Might lose feeling in your legs."

"I don't care-" Huffing for air, my muscles tensed up, head and jaw-dropping to see how I was gushing all over his cock, not putting even in a stutter in his tempo, dragging all he could out of my orgasm before pushing me down to his base.

I instantly collapsed against him, whining as he kept me on him, walking over to the couch, pulling out only to flip me over and bend me over the arm of the couch, stuffing me again.

"Still want me to ruin you?" He asked, hand trailing up my back and to the back of my head as I nodded softly, moaning at him pulling back to his tip slowly:

"Please, Toji."

"First, tell me," Humming as he tossed off his shirt, his nails grazed my scalp, he tangled a fist in my hair, yanking me back onto his cock, "Who's given you the best dick you've ever had?"

"You, Toji!" I screamed out, his balls slapping against my skin, creating a loud sound in the room, a hard spank from his hand echoing, leaving a sharp sting in my ass, truly meaning as I was babbling, whining mess, "You're the best I've ever had!"

"Damn right, baby," Growling and groaning in my ear, his hand switched from my hair to around my throat; the lack of air made me dizzy, but it felt so good with how I was burning up in pleasures' flames, his voice faint in my ear, "You'll never think about that stupid boy again. Just me."

Instinctively, I knew where to find his lips with my eyes closed, pressing my lips hard, his fingers squeezing my throat harder had me nearly passing out; noticing and holding my jaw, he shook me right back into reality, my clenching, juicing cunt keeping him bottomed out and ruining my insides.

"Keep being a good girl and cum again, hm?" He edged, a whisper sending me right off the edge, "Squirt all over my dick again, baby."

"T-Toji-i-ngh!" Biting his hand and taking two handfuls of the couch cushion, I couldn't believe I squirted not once but twice, this time soaking not just his cock and balls but his thighs.

"Good job, baby," Retaking my throat and pulling me up straight; his skin was so hot against my back, making me jolt and whine as he slapped my clit, cock burying into me, "This pussy's mine, got that?"

"Y-Yours," I panted, sweating and fucked out, "I'm all yours."

"Mhm, all mine," Nibbling on my ear, his cock throbbing was throbbing against my spasming walls, my mind in a different world, still in the 'fuck it' mentality, whispering to him:

"Fill me up and claim me."

"How sweet of you," Pulling me into a kiss, he went through a short series of hard quick thrusts, biting my lip as his cock throbbed even harder, "Better take every drop."

"Uh huh!" I was sore, the heat of his seed shooting and coating my walls, making my nerves wire up again and even more cock drunk; falling back to the couch, keeping my ass pinned to his hips, huffing out, "Oh my god, that was fucking incredible."

"Hell yeah," He breathed in deep, rubbing my back and grabbing my ass, making me look back to see him wink as he jiggled me, "Don't forget, this is mine, now."