#i feel he should have tried to look into it and figured things out

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ do you think you’d kill for me, one day? ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous!

˚ ༘♡ the room plunged into darkness, and the air grew heavy with anticipation. bursts of violet and rose-red light erupted like fireworks, each pulse brighter and more jarring than the last. the lights burned into your retinas, blinding and relentless, painting the room in frantic, chaotic hues. shadows danced wildly across the walls, twisting and writhing as if they were living things. a smooth, mechanical voice rang out, tranquil and serene, “two.”

˚ ༘♡ you could feel your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing louder in your ears than the voice itself. your eyes scanned the chaos, flicking from face to face, desperate to make sense of it all. young-il, player 001, had already pieced it together. there were only fifty rooms, but one hundred and twenty-six people remained. at most, one hundred players would survive.

˚ ༘♡ suddenly, everything moved in a rapid blur. young-il, who had been quietly explaining what he believed would happen, was no longer talking. his hand shot out, gripping yours with a force that left no room for hesitation. his touch was steady, commanding, and before you could even process what was happening, he was pulling you forward. there was no time to think, no time to question.

˚ ༘♡ your feet stumbled beneath you as he dragged you through the chaos. panic gripped your chest and clawed without mercy, your breaths coming in searing, shallow bursts. ahead, a yellow door loomed like a shelter in a storm, sanctuary, a chance of survival. sweat trickled down your temple, stinging your eyes, as the two of you surged toward it. so close. you were so close.

˚ ༘♡ then the blow came.

˚ ༘♡ it was sudden, vicious, and it knocked the air from your lungs in an instant. a sharp, heavy kick to your stomach sent you sprawling to the cold, unforgiving floor. pain exploded through your abdomen, radiating outward until it felt like your entire body was on fire. you gasped, choking on the air that refused to return to your lungs. blinking through tears, you managed to look up. a tall, wiry figure stood over you, player 285. his face was set in stone, his eyes harsh and callous. you were nothing to him. just another obstacle to trample over.

˚ ༘♡ pain fogged the edges of your vision, but fear kept you moving. trembling, you tried to push yourself up, your arms weak and shaking beneath you. the countdown timer echoed in your mind like a death knell, each second slipping away faster than the last. a sinking realization clawed its way into your thoughts, you might not make it. the notion wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing until it was hard to breathe.

˚ ༘♡ young-il was at the door now, his moderate frame blocking the entrance as player 285 lunged at him, desperate to get inside. young-il didn’t waver. with a strength you hadn’t seen in him since he bludgeoned players 230 and 124, he wrenched the metal door open wider and grabbed player 285 by the collar. his grip was iron, unyielding. in one swift motion, he threw the man backward into the frenzied crowd, far from the door.

˚ ༘♡ “go!” he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. the authority in his tone sent a jolt through you, and your legs moved on instinct. you scrambled to your feet and stumbled into the yellow room, the door slamming shut behind you. relief should have washed over you, but it didn’t.

˚ ༘♡ the room was drenched in horror. the walls and floor were streaked with blood, its metallic scent sharp in the air. in the corner, a man, player 343, sat quivering. his eyes were wide with terror, his hands twitching uncontrollably as he stared at you and young-il.

˚ ༘♡ young-il leaned against the door, his chest rising and falling heavily. the muffled shouts and pounding fists of player 285 echoed from the other side, but they barely registered. there were three of you in the room. the rules were clear. only two could stay. someone had to leave, or none of you would walk out alive.

˚ ༘♡ “please… please, we were here first…” the man stammered, his voice weak and desperate. his hands clutched at the wall as if it could somehow shield him. he made no move to fight, his stout body rooted to the spot.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze flicked to the countdown timer. twelve seconds. the world seemed to shrink, the weight of the moment pressing down on you in a suffocating fog of despair. your voice broke as you turned to young-il. “i’ll go,” you whispered. “if i don’t… we’ll all die.”

˚ ༘♡ the words tasted bitter, wrong. every fiber of your being screamed against the thought of stepping outside, of waiting to be executed in cold blood. but what choice did you have? standing there, all three of you frozen in fear, would only ensure everyone’s death.

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s face remained unreadable, his dark eyes blank as he stared at the man in the corner. then, with an abruptness that made your stomach drop, he moved.

˚ ༘♡ in a single fluid motion, young-il lunged at player 343. before you could process what was happening, his arm locked around the man’s neck in a crushing grip. player 343 thrashed, his limbs flailing wildly as he clawed at young-il’s arms, his face distorted in a mask of pure terror.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat as you watched. the man’s struggles grew weaker, his movements slowing, until they stopped entirely. the sound of his neck snapping echoed through the small room, sharp and sickening.

˚ ༘♡ yet it wasn’t solely the act itself that made your stomach churn. it was young-il’s face. his expression was not cold or cruel, it was empty. hollow. there was no anger, no remorse, not even determination. merely a terrifying absence, as though he had flicked a switch and turned off everything human inside him.

˚ ༘♡ player 343’s body slumped to the floor, lifeless. the timer hit zero. the strobing lights stopped, and the door unlatched with a hiss. outside, the metallic scraping of corpses being dragged away filled the air, accompanied by blaring gunshots.

˚ ༘♡ you turned away, bile rising in your throat. your body shaking as you pressed yourself against the wall, unable to shake the image of the man’s lifeless eyes, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

˚ ༘♡ “are you alright?” young-il’s voice was soft now, almost tender. you flinched at the sound, your mind unable to reconcile the concern in his tone with the monstrous act you had witnessed seconds prior.

˚ ༘♡ you forced yourself to nod, though the movement felt feigned. “yes… yes, forgive me.” your voice was shaky, but you tried to steady it. “i’m not used to… to seeing things so shocking.”

˚ ༘♡ young-il studied you for a moment, his melancholic eyes searching your face. “i frightened you,” he said simply, his voice flat.

˚ ༘♡ “you did what you had to do,” you murmured. “it’s not your fault. this game… it’s twisted. it forces us to do the unthinkable.” you glanced toward the door, unable to stop yourself from shuddering at the sight of masked guards dragging bodies through the blood-soaked corridors, leaving thick, smeared trails of scarlet ichor. “let’s go back.”

˚ ༘♡ young-il nodded and stepped out first, his broad shoulders slumping under an invisible weight. you followed, your legs heavy as you cast one last glance at player 343’s stiff, unnaturally contorted body.

˚ ༘♡ “you must understand,” young-il said as the two of you walked towards the exit. his voice was low, as though he were speaking more to himself than to you. “i didn’t do it for me. it wasn’t sadism. it was because you deserve to go home. you’re a good girl, i want to see you leave this place unscathed so you may see your loved ones again and lead a normal life. there are some who are too far gone for saving.”

˚ ༘♡ his words pierced the air between you, as if they had a tangible weight, sinking deep into your chest. you drew in a shaky breath, the lump in your throat rising as you fought to find your voice. “mr. young-il,” you called softly, barely above a whisper.

˚ ༘♡ he halted mid-step, the faint scrape of his shoe against the smooth, polished ground breaking the silence. slowly, he turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours. there was something unreadable in his gaze, something that burned quietly, akin to embers buried in ash.

˚ ༘♡ “i never thanked you,” you managed, the tremor in your voice betraying the emotion you tried to suppress. “you saved my life. i owe you my existence.”

˚ ༘♡ a shadow of a smile flickered across his face, fleeting and hollow, like the ghost of a feeling long forgotten. it never reached his eyes. “you owe me nothing,” he said, his voice low and rough, each syllable weighed down with exhaustion and something heavier, something unspoken. without another word, he turned away, his movements deliberate and slow.

˚ ༘♡ you stood still for a moment, your heart constricting painfully in your chest. the sight of his retreating figure, sent a ripple of unease and gratitude coursing through you.

˚ ༘♡ you forced yourself to follow, each step dragging as if the weight pressing on your chest had seeped into your limbs. the silence between you was stifling, so heavy it seemed to press against your ears, drowning out everything else. you longed to speak, but the words caught somewhere deep inside, trapped and unwilling to surface. so you trailed behind him, your steps hesitant and uneven, as though tethered to him by an invisible thread.

a/n: my second squid game fanfiction! i am so thankful for all the support and kind messages i received on my first hwang in-ho imagine! please let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[dronningreid]

6 AM

After a good night of free drinks at a bar, reader wakes up in a bed that looks nothing like her own. Maybe that mistake isn't so bad after all.

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: smut (that sounds really bad 😭) and flangst? (my specialty). Whatever (+18) (But it ISN'T the main focus)

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f! receives), mentions of alcohol and hangover and I think that's it. English is not my first language.

word count: 2.5K

a/n: Writing this made me feel shame and laugh 😭 Anyway, I hope you like this. I stole the title from a song that I almost don't like but it's very this. I also sacrificed myself for the team by getting drunk on Christmas to write this better (it wasn't a good experience, but what am I saying? I'm very committed to my work). Oh and happy almost new year!

Every story has a beginning and how much you wish you could remember the beginning of this.

A ray of sunshine.

That's what woke you up, a ray of sunshine. But not the kind that sneak in through the window and burn your eyes even when they are closed. What woke you up was the warmth of the arm that wrapped around your torso from behind, that kind of sunshine.

You look at the clock and it's damn 6 AM. You didn't expect to start the year so early but there you were.

You relaxed when you feel a warm breath touching your skin. For a moment you felt so fine, until that horrible headache made it difficult to make sense of where you were, but you could remember the ghostly sensations, the pressure against the mattress, his hands running over every corner of your skin and the way the sheets molded with every movement.

You craned your head slightly to get some clues about your surroundings and then the clothes on the floor became visible in your field of vision.

Damn it.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened the night before.

You tried to get out of the grip of the mysterious man you spent the night with, but...

He pulled you towards him again, this time with more force. "Please don't go." He pleaded, but he was still somewhat asleep.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

You recognized that beautiful voice immediately. It being a random guy was a bad thing but Spencer? that was worse.

A wave of panic and guilt ran through you. Now what the hell were you going to do?

You looked at him sideways, first at his lips, and just looking at them made you remember how they felt on your skin.

And then you saw his nose...

"Spence." You whispered in the darkness, you couldn't see him but of course you could feel him.

His hands were resting on your thighs, while his tongue took everything so well like a good boy. But his nose, his nose was buried deep in you, rubbing against your sensitive clit.

Were you dizzy from the pleasure or from the alcohol? Maybe both.

Your fingers tangled in his locks, causing his moan to echo through your walls. That made you shiver, but god it felt so good.

His tongue continued to play through the wetness and when you looked at him you knew that you had let him cross boundaries that a friend should never cross. But you were too drunk to tell him to stop? No, that was an excuse, because in reality both been drunk a lot.

You let him continue for the pleasure and because he was Spencer. There was no one else on this earth you could trust enough to do something so intimate, so personal.

He tightened his grip on your thighs as his tongue movements became more desperate. And he didn't stop until he had you cumming in his mouth.

You blinked a few times before coming back to the present, your memories were so fragmented at the moment that it was best not to put pressure on your mind.

Spencer looked so calm while was asleep, you didn't even know why but you started counting his eyelashes.

That would have been a perfect morning. But one question kept nagging at your brain. How did you get into his bed?

Very simple, it all happened while everyone was on the jet, returning from a case.

"I just hope there isn't another case. It's New Year's Eve, we should be celebrating and not catching serial killers." Emily said. "I'll ask for a raise." Then she brought the glass of whiskey to her mouth.

"Prentiss, you haven't even been with us that long." Morgan let out a light laugh.

"It's been a tough year." You supported Emily. And it was true, Elle and Gideon left a void that no new face could fill. But luckily Emily was Emily, Rossi was Rossi. Neither of them intended to fill the void they left.

"Yes indeed," Rossi added to the conversation. "Drinks at O'Keefe on me, who's coming?" And there was the monetary contribution, maybe your favorite thing about him?

You, Emily and Morgan were quick to raise your hands.

Hotch laughed lightly. "I'll pass, I want to visit Jack."

You stood up from your seat on the jet to approach Reid. "And you? Come?" You gave him a slight nudge with your shoulder. "Or you have a secret son that I don't know about."

Reid shook his head in amusement before setting his book down on his lap. "I don't know, I'm tired."

"Come on." You gave him puppy dog eyes. "And I'll take you back to your apartment."

"Don't know..." He bit his lower lip.

"Oh come on, who's gonna tell me random facts all night? Morgan?" You insistent.

"I heard you!" Morgan shouted from the other side of the jet.

Reid chuckled. "Of course not, that's my place in your life. Besides, he already has Penelope."

You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "So you're coming?"

He shrugged. "I haven't another choice."

One, two, three. Happy New Year!

By that time you and him were already so drunk. Everything was spinning around and both had laughed at every stupid thing Morgan said, that wasn't a very good sign.

You helped Reid into the taxi, almost falling with him in the process. When you left him in the back seat he looked at you, with a pout.

"You said you were going to take me home!" He spoke very loudly, without meaning to.

"If you want to die then let's go in my car." Your words dragged on.

He shook his head and patted his seat. "I'm not going to let you drive. Come on, get in."

You sighed but finally agreed and got into the taxi with him.

He fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, it felt so comforting that you didn't even notice when you fell asleep.

After a few minutes the taxi driver spoke. "We're here."

You opened your eyes suddenly.

"Hey... Are you awake?" Spencer whispered, leaving a soft, brief kiss on your shoulder.

You didn't answer anything, hoping that... Who knows what the hell you were hoping for. A miracle maybe.

Spencer said your name, his tone oddly serious. "Can we skip the part where we pretend we don't sleep together and we can just talk about this?"

He kissed your neck and your hand ran over his exposed torso. "Can we skip the part where we do this and you can just get between my legs now?" Alcohol makes the braves.

Reid smiled against your skin. "Anything you want."

He moved away a little just to separate your thighs and settle between them.

Reid placed his hands on either side of your head, you watched him intently waiting for what would come out of his lips.

"I'll stop whenever you want, okay?" Even a little drunk he was a gentleman.

You nodded hurriedly, eager to feel your walls mold to his size.

Then he slowly pushed his hips against yours, his tip passing through your folds with ease due to all the wetness and for the same reason he clings to the sheets so as not to slip completely inside you.

His breathing is a mess, your breathing is a mess.

You stretch around him and when you are comfortable with him, then his hips and yours begin to move at a constant and slow rhythm.

He moves down to place kisses along your neck, moving up to your jaw, and then you reach for his hand. He immediately laces his fingers through yours, pinning you under him against the mattress.

His lips reach yours, at first the kiss is slow as are both of your movements but it is that the kiss increases in tone. His tongue battles yours, his grip on your hand tightens, and the movements of his hips become more frantic, almost desperate for release.

The friction has already left you too sensitive and also eager for some relief, so you wrap your legs around his hips to have him closer.

His cock starts to pound all the way in. The overwhelming pleasure makes your nails dig into his back and he breaks away from the kiss to let out a beautiful moan.

The bed creaks, accompanying the desperate moans and labored breathing of both.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You move under the sheets until you are facing him. But that was a worse idea than you anticipated.

Confronting him after all the images you have of him in your memory feels like someone has just punched the air out of your lungs.

"To begin with, do you remember anything?" He breaks the thick silence, again.

"Fragments." Your voice comes out as a shameful whisper.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Me too..." He whispers too. "But I do remember that you tried to leave me in the morning."

"Oh..."

Really? Was that the only thing that could come out of your mouth?

Reid sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know this might be awkward but please don't go..." A pang ran through your chest as you saw his pleading eyes. "We don't even have to talk about it."

"Okay..." He sigh of relief at your answer.

But as a cruel joke of life someone knocked on the door, ruining the conversation for Spencer and bringing a postponement for you.

Reid sighed before reluctantly unwrapping his arms from you. "I'm sorry. I... I have to go." He said before getting out of bed.

Last night probably, no, definitely last night you saw him to the soul, but still this time you stared at the ceiling until he got dressed in pajama pants and a gray t-shirt.

He left the room leaving you alone on his bed, naked. Wow, that was something unexpected.

You stood there for a few moments, before wondering what the hell you were doing?

You rubbed your face with your hands as many questions collided in your mind, all eager to capture your attention while you didn't even want to think about it.

What does it mean to sleep with Spencer Reid? He was one of your longest friendships and just by letting him spend one night everything is ruined.

He was acting so casual, like waking up with you was something so normal...

But you didn't even know how to name this. Because, after all, what was this?

You got out of bed and immediately searched the floor for your clothes. You found almost all of them at least.

Once dressed and half combed, you decided to leave the room and try to get out of Spencer's apartment.

But it was such a stupid idea considering it wasn't just you and him in the apartment. Even though you thought you were going to get out of this alive when you saw Reid's back turned to the door.

"Who do we have here?" Morgan's voice was enough for Reid to see you and you to see him.

You had been caught red-handed.

Reid frowned. "You were leaving?"

You stammered a bit before deciding to stop embarrassing yourself and close your mouth.

Morgan's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to you before figuring out what was happening or at least what had happened.

"Wait guys... Both had sex?" Morgan whispered, trying to be discreet, something that was definitely unusual for him, but not the strangest thing today.

You let out a nervous laugh. "We? Of course not!" You rush to say.

Reid's frown deepened. "We don't?" He said with a hint of mockery and another of bitterness.

No one knew what to say for a while, but the only one in trouble was you.

Morgan stood up from the couch. "Yeah... I think I'd better get going."

Spencer didn't say anything, not even when the door closed behind Morgan. He just looked at you with severity, a severity that disguised his vulnerability. How vulnerable he was before you, as if his heart was exposed on a silver platter.

You weren't willing to talk and he felt like he had already said too much, so the silence between you only grew thicker.

Reid snorted. "For the love of god, just say something!" He swallowed. "Say something, whatever. That I'm bad in bed, that what happened was a one night stand, or that you just tried to run away because you're afraid that if you stay you'll have feelings for me." He try with all his might to keep the tears in place.

You shook your head at his first sentences, but perhaps the last was right. "I... Am I hurting you with this?" Maybe it wasn't the best question, but at least you were honest this time.

He looked away, debating what he should or should not say. "Yes... Yes, you're hurting me." Spencer didn't understand how the words managed to slip through the thick lump in his throat.

Guilt and you were never good friends. "Yes, maybe I'm starting to feel something for you beyond a friendship, maybe I already felt it before. I don't know... I'm scared."

Spencer hesitated but finally took a step in front of you. "I'm scared too." He whispered.

You hesitated for a minute but finally put your arms around him. At that moment you just needed the warmth that his arms could give you.

Reid hated how easily he hugged you back, you were close to abandon him...

"I'm sorry." You murmured as you held onto him.

He places a kiss on the top of your head before rubbing your back. "Just don't exclude me from this, let us both figure out together what's going on here, okay?"

"I promise." You tilted your head back to look at him.

"Changing the subject." Spencer looked at you intently, were his eyes always so beautiful? "Did you see my bra? I couldn't find it while I was getting dressed."

"Oh." Spencer nodded and his cheeks quickly turning a pinkish color. "I kicked it under the couch when Morgan knocked on the door.'

Neither he or you remembered how your bra had gotten there. But it happened while the messy make-out session was going on.

Reid broke the kiss and slipped his hand inside your shirt, stopping until he reached the clasp of your bra. "Can I take it off?" He looked at you with pleading eyes.

"Of course." You tilted your head towards him, not willing to leave his lips for long.

He gave you a couple of short kisses while unbuttoning your bra. "I love you." He murmured against your lips.

"I love you too." Your statement came out as a gasp when he pressed his lips against yours more intensely.

Both were drunk when they said such important words, yes, but isn't it said that drunks always tell the truth?

[my-castles-crumbling]

tidy - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 256 - very NSFW

"Hmm....I have to say, I'm a bit shocked," Regulus said as he looked over his immaculately tidy room, lips pursed. "It looks...exactly the same."

"Why wouldn't it?" Barty asked, trying to sound offended as he bit inside his mouth nervously. Could they, perhaps, have gotten away with it?

"Because every time I go to stay at Sirius's, I come back to find out you and Evan have done ungodly things in my room, Barty," Regulus answered flatly, sitting gingerly on his bed and gazing around. "Forgive me for recognizing a pattern."

Figuring he was in the clear, Barty decided to make his flatmate feel a bit bad about his assumption. "Reg, I'm much more mature now. You should know you can trust me! I mean, c'mon, I can respect-"

"What is this?" Regulus interrupted him, pulling a pair of stockings out from under his own pillow and sending him a furious look.

Barty froze, trying to think of a good answer. "....I don't pretend to know what you and James get up to, Reg," he tried, mentally preparing himself to run.

"As if I would wear something this cheap," Regulus retorted, holding the lace between two fingers before throwing it at Barty's face. "Buy me new bedding. And pillows. Now."

As Regulus stood and stomped out of his room, Barty glared after him before answering his ringing phone. "Rosie, you can order him new sheets this time!" he snapped in lieu of a greeting.

All he heard from his boyfriend was a deep chuckle. "Worth it."

[billthedrake]

GRANDDADDY ISSUES

I tried not to seem too eager, waiting in the living room. The Christmas tree was still up and various cookies and candy still out. Mom always went all out for the holidays, even if it was just the two of us.

Thing was, my mother was happy I was close to her father. Always had been and even more so since her divorce. Granddad Paul didn't live super close, but he made an effort to come visit at least once a month. Catching my lacrosse games, being there for my birthday each year, and just completing out the rump family Mom and I had. As a single mother, she held it together, props to her, but Granddad made it feel like a family.

Summers I'd spend a month with the man. He was a high school history teacher and football coach, and had down time to spend with me. I was 16 before I realized his appointed, or self-appointed role, was to be the father figure in my life. Teaching me guy stuff, man stuff. Fishing, camping, home repairs. Birds and the bees. Guy talk.

Of course Mom would freak out, and more, if she new Granddad Paul and I had fooled around the summer after high school. Testing the waters, then diving in. I thought I was confused sexually, but when Granddad went down on me, and sucked a healthy load from my 18 year old jock balls, I knew I wasn't confused one bit. I learned how to return the favor.

I heard him pull up, an old but reliable pick up truck. I looked out the window to watch him get out.

Granddad was the perfect man in my book. 5'10 and barrel chested, walking slightly bow legged like an overgrown jock, he strode up to the door, hands in his jeans pocket. He had on only jeans and gray sweatshirt emblazoned with the high school he'd coached at. He'd let his normal short hair cut grow out to a medium length, almost shaggy and fully gray.

"Killer!" he beamed when I opened the door. I could see the silvery stubble on his chin and smell his aftershave as he pulled me into a tight hug. I now knew how to return the bear clasp myself, patting Granddad's meaty back and feeling his cool cheek next to mine before we pulled back, matching smiles on our faces. Yeah, Granddad missed me, too. He gave a wink and patted my upper arm.

"Merry Christmas, Dad!" I heard my mom behind me. My cue to step aside.

"Linda!" Granddad said. "Merry Christmas." He greeted my mother with a gentler hug. "You're looking great," he said.

My mom had been taking care of herself lately. She had a new boyfriend, Gary, who'd come over for Christmas dinner. I suspected they were more serious than Mom let on, but she didn't want to push things too fast with me. Not that I cared.

For his part, Granddad always had Christmas dinner with my uncle and his family, who lived closer to him. So the day after was Christmas part two for us. Presents and an afternoon light dinner before I threw a couple of bags in the cab of his truck for the hour ride.

It was great this year. Mom was in a great mood, between the boyfriend, her recent promotion at work and my return from college. I did my best to help in the kitchen so should could have time with Granddad.

I'd bought Granddad a new electric shaver Mom said he wanted. The irony was clear to me when he opened it, his scruff fully evident. He even made a joke about it. "Guess it is time to get more presentable," he said.

He got Mom a gift card for the local department store. "You know I can't pick out what you want, Linda," he apologized.

"I'll make good use of it," she assured him, getting out of her chair to give him an affectionate hug.

I was blown away when I opened the small box for my present. There were two tickets to the upcoming Panthers game.

"Jesus, Granddad," I let out, then checked myself. Mom didn't like me to swear, though I didn't do any outright cussing.

He looked like he couldn't wait to read my reaction. "They're as much for me as for you, even if the Panthers aren't doing so hot this season," he said. "I figured it would give us something to do this week."

It was a week and a half I'd spend with the man, but who was counting?

We ended up hitting the road by mid afternoon. Granddad wanted to get us back before nighttime. On the ride it was a lot of catching up. Mostly me giving a monologue about my first freshman semester, what classes I was taking, and what I'd signed up for in Spring.

I could tell something was on Granddad Paul's mind. "You, um, talk to your dad, Drew?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. we talked a little yesterday," I said in a flat tone. I didn't get along with my father. He was pretty absent and I had a lot of resentment.

Granddad looked over with a deep emotion and reached over to massage the back of my neck. It was affectionate and perfect. "I know it's tough, kiddo." Pulling his eyes back to the road he kept his hand there. The touch was getting me hard.

And as I looked over, taking in his weathered face and deepening wrinkles that framed his ruddy cheeks and roman nose, I was getting turned on for real now. I was wired for men, older men. Old men, really, though I was a low-key resentful that none of the men in the "mature" porn matched Granddad's hotness. He was well-preserved and yet clearly in his 60s. That combination was electric to me.

The man seemed to read my mind. "You know, Drew, we don't have to do anything this week. Anything you don't wanna."

I nodded. But my tone was upbeat, eager. "I wanna Granddad," I assured him. "It's kind of all Ive been thinking about the last few months."

"Is that right?" he chuckled. I felt his fingers tease the hair on the nape of my neck. "I figured Killer Stenson would have some fun to keep him occupied in college." Stenson was my Dad's last name, and mine too.

I spread my legs. I was officially bricked now. If Granddad had said HE didn't want to fool around, I didn't know what I would have done. I would have respected his wishes, and yet...

"No, sir. I guess I'm not wired for college guys, really," I said. It was a big admission, and one I'd rehearsed in my head for several weeks now. Turns out, Granddad Paul made me feel comfortable. It was all coming out easily now.

"And college girls?" he prompted.

"Not wired for girls at all, actually."

He nodded, taking it in. "You told your mother?"

I shook my head. "No, sir," I replied. "I haven't told anyone. Other than you."

"Well, it's no one's damn business if you don't want it to be."

We were getting close to Granddad's place and soon he removed his hand as he turned into the gravel driveway. He was a widower and when he'd retired, he'd bought a mountain cabin. We pulled up, and I got one bag, and Granddad the other. As we entered, I was reminded of the distinctly masculine space of the place. Wood paneling and woody-smoky scent from the fireplace. Framed photos of mountains and nature, a signed football jersey framed behind glass, and not much else for decoration.

Granddad could get in no-nonsense mode and already he was leading me back to the second bedroom, which was the guest room when I visited. "Everything is here for you, Drew," he said, setting down my bag.

I gave a quick look in. Basic bed with wool blanket rather than a duvet or comforter. I wanted to respect Granddad's space, but I had to take a chance.

"I was kinda hoping I could be in the master bedroom," I said, nervously looking into the man's blue eyes.

That caught him by surprise. We'd fooled around the previous summer, a lot actually, but it had felt very exploratory, a naughty new game for both of us. Maybe this was my way of ratcheting that game up. But I'd had almost four long months to imagine this visit.

Granddad was caught by surprise. "For real, Killer?" he asked, in that "are you sure?" tone. Then giving me a wink, he added, "I snore, you know."

"I don't give a fuck, Granddad," I said, emboldened by the fact he hadn't said no.

There was a look of lust on that handsome face of his, and Granddad closed the distance between us. I felt his breath and then the scruff of his stubble before our lips touched. A gentle peck, then I opened my mouth. Granddad has a thick tongue and I could feel it snake in between my lips.

Oh fuck, we were making out, and this felt different than before. Granddad pulling my body into his and me feeling up that strong body through his sweatshirt.

"Easy, Killer," he finally mumbled into my lips. "Soft kissin can be kind of hot, too."

And then Granddad showed me a new speed, a new technique. He was right, this was incredible, and amazingly the gentler approach was fueling my boner just as much.

I did grunt, though, as I felt Granddad's paw grip my crotch.

He had a big smile as he pulled back. "Let's take this to my bed, young man."

We made our way to the master bedroom and quickly stripped down. I loved how Granddad's eyes were on me the whole time. "You packed on some more muscle at school, stud?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Been hitting the weights hard," I added. I wasn't playing lacrosse at college, but I wanted to maintain and develop my jock body.

His eyes swept up and down my near nakedness. Appreciative, even as he got his lecturing tone. That Coach tone. "I hope you're doing it for yourself, Drew," he said. "Not for anyone else."

"I am, Granddad," I said with a slightly annoyed tone. Maybe he was right that my body issues and insecurities were driving my obsession with lifting and putting on muscle.

"Well, you're the kind of stud who makes me thankful I'm a man."

Then I watched Granddad slip off his underwear, showing off that full magnificent 65 year old body. Muscular but with some loose sag to the beef, that build was covered in a thick silvery fur trimmed evenly, at least until the darker bush, where gray pubic hairs grew longer and stray next to the brown ones. Granddad Paul's cock was just shy of 6 inches and cut and pretty thick, especially at the base. He'd confided to me that he took pills for a mild case of ED, and maybe he'd taken one that day, because his prick was sticking up hard.

"I'm thankful you're a man, too, Granddad," I joked, even as I slid off my boxers and showed my grandfather my erect dong. I wasn't as thick as him, but I had a good inch and a half in length on him.

"Goddamn," he hissed. I loved how the man let loose with the swearing when it was just us. Especially at times like this. He stepped up and reached down to gently stroke my hardon from base to tip. "OK if I suck this, Drew?"

I didn't know why he was being so coy, but then I realized he'd had four long months to imagine us having sex again. Anticipating. Not knowing where we'd pick off, or even if we would.

"Um, yeah, Granddad."

He looked up from my dick. "You know, my name is Paul."

"I know," I said. It felt weird being on a first name basis. The tone in my voice suggested I never would be.

That got a chuckle out of him. He hadn't let go of my cock, instead he slowly stroked it. Without lube it felt more of a tease motion rather than a jacking off pleasure. I loved it. "If you're game, there's some stuff I want to try this week," he said. A little nervousness was behind his mature experience.

"Yeah?" I asked excitedly. I reached forward to feel up his torso, feeling the thickness of his aged muscle.

He nodded. "You tried fucking yet, Killer?" he asked with a grin.

"No, sir," I said. "Been thinking about it, though. A lot."

That brought a smile to his face. "Your mother would kill me," he said.

"She's not gonna find out, sir," I assured him.

Granddad released my dick and then crouched down in front of me, His strong hands ran up and down my outer quads as he stared at my dick. "We're gonna have a lot of fun this week, aren't we, Killer?" he breathed.

"Yes, Granddad," I answered.

He leaned in some and skinned back my foreskin. "You know I'm not a big fan of your father, but I'll give him credit for leaving your skin intact."

I felt his tongue taste the tip then watched him open up and take me in. I still got a thrill from seeing this masculine man being so enthusiastic sucking dick. He didn't got slow either. Taking just a second to get used to me and my size, he began working me up and down with long steady mouth strokes. Twisting his head slightly and giving a gentle tug of my balls.

"Granddad!" I urged. My lock was loaded and my sexual response was far more primed than I expected. If Granddad kept it up, I wouldn't last long. I even gave a half hearted attempt to push his shoulders back, but he kept on me. I looked down on his almost entirely gray hair and his mature body. He was bobbing faster now, and sucking more fervently. "FUCK!" I gasped.

I heard the man choked down my heavy load in successive swallows. His moans around my spurting prick were deep and appreciative as he rode out my orgasm with his slowed down sucking.

"Goddamn, buddy," he finally said as he pulled back and wiped his chin. "That's one helluva load. Please tell me you have more in the tanks for later."

"Probably," I laughed, enjoying the way my dick stayed rigid after cumming so hard.

He took his time standing up. "Think I can feel you up for a bit?" he asked. Already he was climbing on to the bed and scooting over to the other side to pull out some lube.

I wasn't sure what he was wanting but I got in bed, too. He squirted a good deal of lube on his dick and started stroking before turning back to me. His free hand ran along my bare torso.

"You got a beautiful body, Killer," he said, openly massaging my chest and abs. I wasn't completely smooth but compared to him I was.

"Thank, Granddad," I said. "I love yours, too." I reached out and began to touch his furry chest.

"I'm old," he said with a laugh.

I looked into his eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, Granddad, but I like em old."

"You into the daddies, Killer?" Granddad smiled.

"Older, even," I admitted. "A man has to be 60 before I notice him. I'm kind of messed up."

"Hardly, stud," he said. He took his hand and moved to touch and caress my chin. "I got a good bud like you."

I tried to pick up on the implications of what he was saying. Put two and two together. "A boyfriend?" I knew Granddad had gone mostly for men after Grandma died. Said he didn't think he was up for another traditional relationship and that there was too much lost time to make up.

"No," the man replied. "Just a deep friendship. He's married now, but craves a little coach time, you know?" I could tell he was hesitant to tell me about this.

"A former player?" I asked.

"That stays between you and me, Killer."

"Yes, sir." I ran my hand down, past his moving fist, to cup his balls. "I'm just glad you got someone looking after you, Granddad."

"Oh kiddo," he breathed, closing in the gap for another kiss. This was less soft than before but it was amazing. Real heavy making out as Granddad moved back to feeling my body as he jerked off. He had a slower sexual response but it didn't take him long. He pawed at my chest more aggressively as I felt the tension rise and release in his body. He grunted into my mouth and I felt his hot cum splash on my belly.

We embraced and held each other after our orgasms, making out some but also just feeling each other's bodies.

"So... the older man thing," Granddad said, breaking the silence. "How much of that is me?"

He asked the thing that had been on my mind. "Some of it. But I think if we hadn't fooled around, I would have found someone who reminded me of you."

That got a soft grunt from the man. I knew the words hit him in an emotional and sexual place. "Is that what we're doing, Killer? Just fooling around?" There was an edge to his voice, teasing yet sexual.

"Oh god, Granddad," I hissed. "I've been trying not to get ahead of myself."

He gave me a thoughtful look, his blue eyes set off by his gray hair and weathered face. "Well, we got all week to figure things out."

"Week and a half," I corrected.

Granddad smiled. "You serious about what I said earlier? About trying more?"

I felt his strong biceps, pumped beneath the looser skin. "I'm not very experienced, sir. But I wanna be. I want you to be the one to show me."

We kissed, soft again, super slow. I was hard but not eager to cum again, just enjoying the proximity to him. I could feel Granddad's cock plump out, too. It was dark out, pitch black dark, and we had only the light of the bedlamp. I had no idea what time it was, but my stomach rumbled.

That got his attention. He pulled back and looked me up and down. I had the feeling I was his Christmas present, more than the electric razor. "Let's get some food in you, buddy. And we can take our time with the rest, OK?"

I got up. Granddad handed me one of his T-shirts and a spare pair of sweats. I loved wearing his clothes, and I loved that he trusted me to start a fire in the fireplace while he made us some burgers. Granddad is particular about the fireplace being set up and lit the proper way.

Even if the meal was casual, washed down with cans of cold lager, it felt like the most special date night I could imagine.

Maybe I was a little too silent as I ate. Even when I was done, I sipped my beer and looked at Granddad Paul's handsomeness and felt like the luckiest man.

"What are you thinking, Drew?" he asked softly.

I blushed. "Just crushing out on you a little, sir. Sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. I'm crushing out on you, too, buddy. More than a little."

I felt flush hot with desire and emotion now. I threw hard, I couldn't help. Granddad noticed and chuckled. "Just be patient with me, Killer, I'm an old man and don't have the sex drive I once did."

My turn to laugh. "You do just fine, sir." This time I took the initiative, setting down my beer and moving over to kiss him.

I lost track of time again. Both of us did. I never fished my beer. I was tired enough anyway, when Granddad wordlessly led me back to his bedroom. Our bedroom for the week. No more sex that night, just spoon naked against one another. But Grandad Paul was right: we had all the time we wanted to take together.

[screamingcrows]

The third winner of a Zandicktober poll >< Tags: Akademiya Zandik x reader, suggestive, science, blood, blueball, touching with dubious consent, clothes stay on, not proofread, 1.4k Glossary Minors DNI

So what if Zandik had refused to use your room as a space of relaxation? Studying was different. And loathe as he was to admit it, the little comforts you'd invested in to furnish your space did make for a better environment.

Not to say he couldn't do without the plush carpet, but what logic was there in rejecting mundane luxuries when they came at no cost?

There was also the added benefit of the fibers muffling the near constant tapping of your feet. Already somewhat disinterested in the pages spread out around him, Zandik's gaze wandered towards your unusually quiet form. Your grasp obscured the book's title, a shame, whatever had managed to capture your interest to this degree had to be at least mildly fascinating.

A hint of jealousy flared at how enraptured you appeared, the mandatory essay on trade route optimization across the Wall of Samiel doing anything but stimulate his mind. With a sigh, the various papers were shuffled around in hopes of unlocking some new perspective, preferably one that would bring an epiphany.

The weather was about as bleak as his current mood, the past few days had been bound together by the presence of a seemingly unending gathering of clouds. Neither sun nor stars had pierced the veil - on second thought, perhaps his lack motivation was partially caused by sleep deprivation.

Trying to rub the tiredness from his eyes as if it were sand did nothing but further the urge to groan in annoyance. There were vast quantities of history just waiting to be uncovered and pieced together with existing records, and here they were, forced to write assignments reflecting on a 'challenge' the Eremites had already solved decades ago.

What good were grand ideas when the conviction to implement them was always lacking behind?

"Would it kill you to just admit to needing a break?"

Zandik frowned as your little quip registered, briefly considering the route of denial before settling on a modified truth, "It's simply the glaring lack of a challenge that irks me. This," he swatted at a few choice pages, "is an utter waste of my time."

Had it come from anyone else, the bright laughter ringing through the room would've elicited at least a sneer. A roll of his eyes was all he could muster for now.

There was no particular reason for this assignment to invoke such a putrid reaction, it was disappointing but not unexpected in the slightest. And as such, your disturbance wasn't entirely unwelcome. Zandik did need a break, even if he would rather eat sand than admit so.

With unusual consideration, your inquisitive voice provided an ample escape, "How about taking a look at this with me? I could use an extra set of eyes and yours aren't entirely bad."

He let the question hang for a moment, knowing very well that it was a lie without even looking at how you bent the corner of a page this way and that. You undoubtedly knew that he was aware, yet still tried to commit to the act of confusion.

It was almost endearing.

With no desire to stall, Zandik merely nodded and leaned back against the bed, infrastructure and trade already long forgotten.

"So, the assignment is to formulate a possible route for restoring areas struck with the withering and then submit a detailed report." Zandik couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as you continued, "there's no practical aspect, so I don't have to run any tests, but everything should be theoretically plausible. For the purpose of restoring the nutrient balance in the ground, I figured a good starting point would be to reintroduce insects among other things."

Lazily opening one eye, Zandik studied your expression carefully. Why the wolfish grin? It was off-putting, surely bleeding into his voice, "problem being?"

He didn't like the almost solemn way you cleared your throat, "-the male then uses his aedeagus to pierce the female's abdomen, injecting the spermatophores into her hemocoel," there was anticipation in your voice, the discord in Zandik's head growing at your smug expression, "that's kinda hot, wouldn't you say?"

Your words were replayed in his mind, disbelief only growing with every repeat as individual terms were identified and memories of definitions recovered. How long had his palms been sweaty?

Why would you even-

"Did you hit your head?" The lack of grace as you scurried towards his position on the carpet did little to disarm his suspicion, reluctantly glancing at the textbook you slid forward. You were being far too eager for his liking. "And how is this related your issues?"

"Never said I had an issue, just wanted you to look," he groaned inwardly at having fallen for your trap. "Look, imagine this was you and-"

"No."

"Treat it as a thought experiment…"

Oh Celestia above, you were pouting like a scorned child.

There wasn't enough space, especially with your book being practically shoved into his lap. The House of Daena was usually too crowded by now to get anything done, outside wouldn't be feasible either - not with how unbearable warm and moist it had been lately. Zandik could almost feel water gather in a thin film that clung to his skin. Handprints left behind on his trousers proved an uncomfortable truth about the effect of your closeness.

"I don't want to think about," he shifted restlessly and without care for the book, it was too warm with you practically pressed against him, "about doing that."

Just what did you think you were, crawling after him like that? Asking if you had any dignity would be a waste of breath, he knew exactly what word would pass your lips.

"Why not? It's-"

"Do you realize how ridiculous being sexually aroused by the thought of receiving a flesh wound sounds?"

Why did his cheeks have to burn now of all times?

Pens rolled and mugs clinked together as Zandik's back collided with your desk, out of room to retreat and reluctant to advance. It was impossible to keep an air of indifference when you were practically devouring him with that look.

"Bold words," you had the audacity to giggle, far more determination in your eyes than he remembered ever seeing. At least you left him room to breathe with where you settled in front of him, a little further and you'd be wedged between his legs-

A hand pressed to his lips wasn't enough to stifle the groan accompanying that thought, the taste of his own sweat not enough to dispel the image of you nuzzling against the inside of his thigh. Would the same amount of fire be in your eyes then? Would it be enough to match what always burned in him?

"-looks like you're not entirely appalled," Zandik blinked, static filling his suddenly empty head as you leaned forward, "or is this because of something else?"

Iron flooded his senses when your hand pressed against the bulge in his pants, his teeth digging into the back of his hand and still failing to contain a whine. It was downright painful how you dug your hand into the tender flesh, and still his body refused to effectuate the protests made by the mind.

A subdued whimper prefaced what few words he could string together through the growing haze, "don't-" he hissed when you grabbed hold of the bulge and twisted ever so slightly, "presume I would share your morbid fascinations…"

"No?" Zandik felt his eyes roll back when your other hand found the marks left by his own teeth, a shiver running through his body when your nail dragged along the bloody tear, almost missing your next words. "You seem pretty excited to have me digging around here, didn't expect you to enjoy receiving."

Any thought of rebuttal evaporated when you backed away, leaving Zandik with burning lungs and a painful throb in his pants.

"W-what…" He felt pathetic as he croaked out the question, barely resisting the urge to palm himself to ease some of the pain.

"Time to get back to work now that I've showed you what I wanted."

[cutielando]

ma meilleure ennemie | r.c.

synopsis: in which you don’t know how to feel about him

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The golden light of the Outer Banks sunset filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the tangled chaos of the marsh.

You were perched on the dock behind the chateau, skipping stones into the water, trying to pretend the world wasn’t crashing down around you.

But Rafe never let you pretend for too long.

He stood only a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his khakis, the embodiment of Kook arrogance. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he had that infuriating smirk on his face.

The one that made your blood boil.

“Didn’t know the Routledge princess spent her nights sulking. Thought you were out with your Pogues planning another heist” Rafe taunted, his voice sharp.

You clenched your jaw and tossed another stone into the water, harder than before this time around.

“Did you want something? Don’t you have better things to do?” you snapped, turning to face him.

Rafe’s smirk fell for a split second, but he recovered quickly. He didn’t want to let his guard down around you.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you” he said, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, refusing to let his words have any kind of effect on you. Rafe didn’t want to see you, not really. You were just another means to an end in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You’re not exactly known for your heart of gold or love for my crowd, Rafe” you said, turning away and splashing the water again.

He chuckled, his voice low and bitter.

“And you’re not exactly the sweet Pogue everyone things you are” he said, making you stop in your tracks.

His words hit you harder and deeper than you wanted to admit. You had spent your entire life trying to hold your family together, trying to glue everything and make it stick so nothing would happen to the ones you loved.

But Rafe had a way with his words that would get under your skin, peeling off layer by layer and exposing the cracks you had desperate tried to hide your entire life.

“You don’t know anything about me” you finally said, your voice small and wavering.

Rafe stepped closer to you, which made you look up at him for the first time ever since he came. You came eyes to eye with his charming blue eyes, seeing the storm brewing behind them.

“I know you’re tired of pretending. I see it in the way you look at everyone, especially your friends. You’re carrying the weight of holding everyone together, but who’s left carrying you?” he asked, his voice incredibly soft.

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You hated how easily he could read you, how his words cut through every single layer of thick skin you had spent years building.

“Don’t act like you care about me. You’re just as selfish and destructive as you’ve always been. You don’t care about anyone else other than yourself, don’t preach to me” you said, taking a step back and turning away.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, you thought he might snap at you and prove your point. But he didn’t.

Instead, he took a deep breath, his expression softening.

Something that was very rare for him.

“Maybe I don’t, and maybe you’re right with everything you’re saying. But maybe, just maybe, you make me want to try and care about someone else” he confessed, his voice soft.

The words hung in the air around you, heavy with unspoken truths and impossible realities. You wanted to laugh, to scream in his face that he was crazy, that you could never even phantom trusting him or letting him in.

But a small, very small and traitorous part of you wondered if he could be telling the truth.

And that was the most dangerous thought of all.

The only sounds that could be heard were the waves crashing around you. His words replayed in your mind over and over again, chipping away at your resolve with each passing second.

“Maybe you should figure yourself out before you drag someone else into your mess” you said, your voice quieter and softer now.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a small, bitter smile. He knew how hard you were trying to hold your ground, he could tell. Because he always did the exact same thing as you.

“Maybe I already know what I want. I’m tired of being the guy everyone expects me to be” he said.

You folded your arms over your chest, more for your own comfort than anything else.

“And what, are you expecting me to save you or something?” you asked.

“No” Rafe said quickly. “I’m not asking you to save me. I just, I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to talk to someone who doesn’t expect anything from me” he confessed, his tone almost vulnerable.

His confession took you completely by surprise.

This wasn’t the Rafe Cameron that you knew. The one who had tormented you and your friends for years, manipulated and assaulted Sarah, stolen from your family; that Rafe Cameron wasn’t capable of having feelings or being vulnerable.

But the way his eyes were holding your gaze in these moments, the emotions swimming around in his eyes, they made you question everything about him.

“This doesn’t change anything, Rafe” you said, taking a step back again. “You’ve done too much to me, to my family. I can’t just forget about it and pretend nothing ever happened” you explained.

“I know, and I’m not asking you to forget” he said, taking a step forward. “I know I’ve messed up, I know I’ve hurt you more times than I can count. But you make me feel like I could truly be better, than I could be more than what my dad made me” he said.

The mention of his father sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. Everyone on the island knew about Ward’s influence over Rafe, but that wasn’t an excuse for Rafe’s behavior.

It was, however, a reason. A crack into his perfect Kook facade, a crack that made him human.

“I don’t know if I can fix you, Rafe” you whispered, your voice tired and broken.

“I’m not asking you to fix me. I just, I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Like I’m always one step away from falling apart. When I’m around you, you make it stop, just for a little while you make everything stop and I can just… be myself for once” he confessed, completely breaking through your walls.

You wanted to scream at him, to hit him and push him away for even daring to come here and beg you for your forgiveness and mercy.

But you couldn’t.

Your heart wouldn’t let you send him away, because he was right. You did understand him, and you knew what he was going through.

Because just like he said, he made everything quiet when you were around him.

He made it stop.

“You have one shot at this” you whispered, closing your eyes as you finally give in.

Rafe’s lips curl up into a small smile, his stomach erupting with anticipation.

“You won’t regret it. I’ll be better” he said, stepping closer to you.

You nodded, giving him a small, tentative smile.

As you two stood there on the dock, you looked out at the horizon, wondering about what had just happened.

Wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Or maybe, wondering if you had just made the best decision ever.

Wondering.

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[sad-girl-hours23]

25. the dose determines that a thing is not poison

I really need the learn the definition of microfiction. This is more introspective than anything, but I hope you enjoy

Tommy doesn’t dare glance at the clock on Evan’s bedside table; not that he needs to, he already knows it’s been longer than he allows himself to stay. The slowing of his heartbeat, the steadying of his breath—it’s not a good sign. But Evan is still talking, he almost forgot just how much that kid can talk—before, during, and after sex. Tommy would be annoyed about it ruining his afterglow if it wasn’t exactly what he needed.

“—and I mean, what exactly determines if sex with your ex is toxic anyway? If we’re two consenting adults, what does it matter if—”

And now Tommy’s wondering just how many members of the 118 he should avoid if they ever work on a call together. He counts how many times he’s facetimed with Eddie since he and Evan have started this thing and tries to determine if that really was judgment he saw on his face. Considers skipping the next few pick-up games so he doesn’t have to look Howie in the eye. They are two consenting adults, but Tommy’s the only one of them who’s a goddamn fool; for ever thinking he could fuck Evan Buckley out of his system, for ever coming back after it didn’t work the first time or the second or the third. For ever thinking the poison could be the cure.

Evan trails his fingers through the hair on Tommy’s chest. He’s not even trying to hide that he’s half-hard again. There’s a look in his eyes like he might ask Tommy to stay for another round, but he won’t and Tommy won’t offer. It’s not what they do. 

“When do we stop being, you know—exes—and just become two people who fuck?”

When I no longer feel you in my bloodstream.

Tommy’s not sure why the distinction matters to Evan, why he cares what people think about who’s in his bed. He’s never been able to figure out the rulebook Evan seems determined to follow.

Tommy sits up. “How long do you plan on doing this?”

Evan smiles, that lethal smile of his. The one he’d flashed at Tommy across the bar two months ago before sauntering over before telling Tommy he wasn’t mad anymore and asking if they could be friends. To Tommy’s ears it sounded like, I don’t love you anymore.

Evan shrugs. “As long as you’ll let me. As long as we don’t have anybody else.”

“You’ll find somebody else, Buck.” Tommy absolutely does not think about how, for him, there is nobody else.

“Sure. Same time next week?”

One of these days, Tommy will say no. He’ll walk out of Evan’s apartment and life and break his own heart for the last time. It’s right there on the tip of his tongue, but each time he tries to sound it out, he finds himself numb. 

“Yeah, same time next week.”

It hasn’t killed him yet.

A small, desperate part of him hopes it will.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @iinryer @butchdiaz and @eddiebabygirldiaz to do a 2024 year end fic round up! 125,710 words over 26 fics… damn… at least one fic a month and now I desperately want to try and finish something in the next few days so I dont break that streak for December… we’ll see… okay here we go! Thank you to everyone who’s read anything of mine, I had a lot of fun writing and I hope you had fun reading!

January

I got love to give, and give and give 1,638 words, rated T, melancholy and fluff, Hen and Buck bestieism

“What’s up with you, Buckaroo?” She laughs, poking his silly cheek.

“I love you,” he says, so sweet, looking even happier just to say it. “So much, Hen. Do- did you know it?”

“Yes,” she says, laugh still in her voice but chest a little tighter. “I know it, Buck.”

He drops his cheek to her shoulder, and then turns his head quick to kiss the spot. “Good. You’re the best. You should know it, a- a hundred- a thousand percent.”

—

Hen thinks about Buck at a party

the more we move ahead the more we’re stuck in rewind 4,278 words, rated T, the Buckley’s bad parenting

Bobby frowns at his phone, then leans over to show the screen to Buck. “May keeps sending me these memes,” he says the word wrong, and it makes Buck’s eyes sting for some reason. “And I just don’t understand what on earth this is supposed to mean.”

Buck coughs, mostly to cover up for the way his eyes are watery, and blinks at the screen. He doesn’t know how to say thank you, for any of it, but maybe he can at least figure this out.

—

After the factory fire, Buck’s parents show up at the station. It goes poorly. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: backhand slap.

only the best will do 801 words, rated G, silly wedding fluff

Buck gets a little intense about wedding planning. Chimney hides in the kitchen. Eddie is a man in love.

February

and I know I should go but I’ll probably stay 2,535 words, rated T, buddie hurt comfort

It’s unpleasant, enough that Buck screws his eyes shut and breathes and tries to pretend he’s someplace else. Chris is at the Wilson’s tonight, it’s their turn in the rotating childcare-for-date-night agreement that Hen seemed to have been eagerly waiting to sign them up for. It had been the third thing she said when they got together, right after congratulations and I’m so happy for you. Anyway, they’re going to go sit down at the Thai food place they usually only have the time and energy to order from home. It’ll be nice. Three months in and Buck still gets all giddy when Eddie holds his hand out in public. Or anywhere, really. He could slide their fingers together at the bottom of this stupid pit and Buck would feel all fluttery and starry eyed.

—

Buck and Eddie are both hurt on the job and a choice has to be made. Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo square “Take Me Instead”

won’t you close your weary eyes 3,714 words, rated T, Buck and Bobby hurt comfort, parental feelings

Bobby doesn’t actually hear the warning shout. Or- it’s possible that he did, in the moment, but he has no memory of the sound. Just Buck, 20 or so feet away, turning towards him mid conversation with a look of horror on his face, mouth open around an unheard word, arm moving slow motion up in what he's sure is a frantic wave. He does hear the sound of impact, an almost comical series of hollow metallic bonks. They'll all laugh about this later, he thinks on the way down. Bunch of pipes dropping on the fire Captain's head. Pretty sure he saw that on looney toons.

—

Bobby gets a concussion and Buck stays with him. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: concussion.

March

the going water and the gone 31,547 words, rated T, cruise ship spec, Eddie missing presumed dead, angst with a happy ending

It doesn’t take long for Buck to be cleared to leave. He’s given antibiotics for the water he swallowed, a handful of bandages to cover shallow wounds, and instructions to take it easy. Horror clenches in his stomach. Eddie is gone and he gets off with Advil and a nap.

—

Eddie is missing presumed dead after the cruise ship sinks, Buck tries to keep his promises

I’d shine up the old brown shoes, I’d put on a brand-new shirt 3,565 words, rated T, friends with benefits buck/natalia, Eddie and Buck feelings realization through giving Chris dating advice

“No, I need, like-“ Eddie sighs so hard it almost sounds like static. “I need… guy help. Will you just come over?”

“Are you-” Buck turns away from Natalia and kind of hunches over the phone, making his voice quieter. “Are you having a penis problem?”

“What?” Buck’s never heard Eddie that high pitched. Loud, too, enough that Buck yanks the phone away from his ear and Natalia snorts with barely contained laughter behind him. When he brings the phone back in, Eddie is making a lot of blustery sounds, which Buck waits out until he finds words again. “Wh- No! No, I don’t have- I’m not having a ‘penis problem,’ Buck!”

Buck shrugs at the air in front of him. “Okay, Eddie, you’re the one who’s hiding in a bathroom and said you needed my ‘guy help,’ what was th-”

“Oh my god, Buck, I need relationship advice, okay!”

—

Chris is going on his first date. Eddie calls Buck for backup.

what useless tools ourselves 4,905 words, rated G, Buck in the hours after Eddie’s s5 breakdown

After Eddie chokes out what he can of a tragedy nearly a decade in the making, and after they go together to make sure Christopher is okay — the kid's eyes are wide where they meet Buck's over his father's shoulder, Eddie still trembling as he holds him — they sit back down at the kitchen table and Buck cleans Eddie's knuckles.

—

Buck, between the breakdown and dawn. Written for the BTHB prompt bloody knuckles.

April

when we’re barely awake in the heat of the day’s weight 1,037 words, rated M, buck/tommy early relationship tenderness

“You okay?” The man asks, voice rough with sleep though not too loud even with his mouth maybe three inches from Buck’s ear. He’s so soft. All his hard edges and he’s just so soft.

“Yeah,” Buck half-whispers, relaxing into him. “Sorry. It’s just, uh- been awhile since I woke up someplace new.” He hadn’t been paying much attention to ceiling texture when they’d stumbled to bed last night, either. It matches what little glimpses he had been paying attention to in Tommy’s charmingly vintage apartment. Brick exterior. Funny orange tiles in the kitchen. “Think it might have been since, uh…” Shit. He’d been to Natalia’s once for just a few minutes because she had an ornery roommate, and Taylor always came to his. Ali found him the loft specifically to have a nice place to wake up in after fucking. “Uh, Abby, maybe.”

—

Buck wakes up at Tommy’s place and they have a conversation about taking up space

you’ve got too much to wear on your sleeve 4,136 words, rated G, buck/tommy hurt comfort

“Uh, sorry.” He stares down at Eddie’s shoes. “I just think I’m- I’m kind of scared.” He eventually understood, intellectually, why Ali left him. It was a lot. She didn’t really get the scope of what she was signing up for. His leg had turned something fun and casual into something suddenly dead fucking serious. So, yeah, he understood, but he’s not sure until this moment that he really, actually understood. Tommy’s down that hall somewhere, and he got hurt at his job which is dangerous, and Buck is wondering how awful it would be to flee back through all the hallways and out of Pasadena to parts of the city he knows better, and go and find a nice safe girl with a nice safe job so his chest won’t ever feel like this. Or, only feel like this sometimes, with Eddie or Hen and Chimney and Bobby, or Maddie, people who he’s already seen bleed so he knows they can do it.

—

Tommy’s helicopter goes down. Buck fixes the station AC unit.

If you go down to Hammond you’ll never come back 1,339 words, rated G, early relationship buck/tommy fluff, madney wedding spec but more like madney wedding au really, prophetic daddy joke

“Oh, uh.” Eddie shrugs, stretches. “You know. Buck. It’s kind of… who he’s become, who he’s proud of being. I guess, I mean- we haven’t talked about it specifically. But yeah, I think… it’s like the turnouts, you put them on, feel good about who you are in them. And it’s the name he’s used ever since he came here, it’s- neat. Like, a clean break from when he… was young, and alone.” He shrugs again, smiles a little. “His friends call him Buck.”

Tommy’s thumb slips in the condensation on his glass. “Should I-”

“No.” Eddie’s voice is very soft. “I think… for most of his life only Maddie ever said ‘Evan’ and meant ‘I’m happy to see you.’ I think… it’s good, that he has that with you.”

Tommy just- tries to remember how to breathe normally for a second. “I am,” he says. “Happy to see him.” A funny, shaky little joy in his stomach every single time he looks up and sees Evan Buckley.

—

Eddie and Tommy talk at the wedding

May

that makes calamity of so long life 1901 words, rated T, buck/tommy fluff and angst, tragic backstories

The afternoon sun sneaking through the curtain lights him right up, glowing in his curls and against his cheek like the air itself can’t help but touch him. It makes Tommy feel kind of out of breath, kind of out of his depth. “Sometimes I think I must have made you up," he says, because the walls aren't melting but this still feels like a dream.

“I was.” Buck says it softly, and then blinks, like the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch them. “Made up,” he says, a clarification that doesn’t make anything clearer.

—

Tommy learns about Daniel, and thinks about life and safety and caring about things

Autolysis 5,607 words, rated T, Bobby Nash goes in the blender, parental feelings, guilt grief and depression, food as a metaphor for love and what happens when you dont have enough of either

Buck dies, and he’s cold right away. They all are, this isn’t the kind of summer storm where the rain is almost warm. It’s freezing out here, even under all the layers of their gear. Bobby’s sure his own skin is corpse-cool, but he holds Buck and the harness pulls him stiff in his arms, and his body is cold, and he thinks Wait. It’s happening too fast. Wait. He’s dead, and Bobby lays him carefully on the gurney, and he rides up front with Eddie as they tear through the streets towards the hospital, frantic noise and movement reaching them from the back. He’s dead when they pull up to the doors. The human body begins to decay after four minutes, starts to consume itself, the final hunger. Bobby hears the crack of his sternum when Eddie’s palms press so far into his chest his heart starts to beat again. 43 seconds to spare.

-

Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: make it look like an accident

June

big heart, I wanna let it bleed 2,106 words, rated G, buck joins the team a little younger au, buck and Bobby feels

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well.

July

I know the words, I know the sounds 2,147 words, rated G, buck/tommy breakup because one of them realizes their best friend they’ve been in love with forever is suddenly an option, oops wrong best friend

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

—

Buck and Eddie dance at Tommy’s wedding

and the air was full 397 words, rated G, storm chasers au

There’s a crack in the sky, lightning glowing white hot across his field of vision, and it’s behind Buck but somehow his eyes are lit up with it. The thunder comes less than a second later.

buff in, fan dry, wash out 1,758 words, rated G, art student au, Buck and Shannon are friends and that makes his crush on her recently divorced husband kind of awkward

The old drawing — something abstract, all bold sweeping lines — slowly disappears as it wears away and gets covered by sludge. He always feels a little guilty, getting rid of somebody’s work like this. A little inadequate, trying to come up with something good enough to replace it.

—

Eddie stops by the printmaking studio as Buck and Shannon work

August

get out of the waves get out of the water 1,856 words, rated T, Eddie pov of going water and the gone

Eddie’s foot slides out from under him and his first thought is Oh shit, sorry. He’ll find that funny, eventually.

—

Lost at sea, Eddie dreams

Autobiography 13,152 words, rated M, Buck’s turn in the blender, unreliable narrator but its hardly his fault no one tells him anything about his own life, depression and suicidal tendencies, past assault, pet death that may or may not have happened, 😬, also a twine game

A dog runs into the street after a ball and gets hit by a car.

September

every moment points towards the aftermath 1,755 words, rated G, friends at the table crossover/au but you dont need to know the podcast to read but also you should listen to the podcast, they’re wrestlers, they live in New Jersey but it’s Weird

For awhile, in the beginning, every time Eddie meets Buck the other man has blood in his teeth.

October

should we talk about the weather 20,059 words, rated M, au where some people are drift compatible but without the giant robots, madney fluff and buddie angst and hen + chim bestieism

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

cut through the knot 9,924 words, rated M, oh boy Bobby is in the blender again, the whole thing is a therapy session with Frank, long list of content warnings on this one I’ll just leave them on ao3, did you know i love that guy. i love that old man. sorry Bobby that i keep doing this to you

“I’ve been doing fine lately.”

“I’m glad. That’s not what I asked.”

Bobby frowns at Frank, who’s sitting as relaxed and neutral as he always is. “You’re a therapist. Don’t you need to know my… current mental state, something like that?”

“Sure,” Frank smiles just the tiniest bit. Bobby doesn’t know if that means he’s succeeded or failed at something. “But I asked: why are you here?”

—

Bobby goes to therapy. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: self harm

right here with you 1,112 words, rated G, the 118 basically in a cuddle pile as penance for what I put Bobby through in the last one

Bobby’s not convinced it wasn’t a stumble — he’s pretty sure he saw a kind of panicked look on Chimney’s face between the whirling limbs — but Buck lands on the couch somehow. There’s a lot of cushion space unoccupied, but he ends up half on top of Bobby, sort of sideways, sort of leaning against Bobby’s chest. He twists his head this way and that until he finds an angle that’s not too sore to look up at him. His grin is big and goofy, eyes a little vacant in the way that comes with strong painkillers, and Bobby laughs down at him.

—

The 118 recuperate after a rough day. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: cry into chest

November

3 new short fics in the all my life, there you go series

Family 1,211 words, 118 family feels, new buddie, Eddie and Maddie friendship

Phone calls 1,938 words, Eddie calls Buck drunk from wine night and confesses his love

Hand kisses 1,022 words, angst, Eddie’s moved to Texas and is centimeters from a big gay realization but is already trying to marry Buck anyway

Phew!!! We got through it! Hello down here! @colonoscopys @wildehacked @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @devirnis @chronicowboy @gayeddieagenda @homerforsure @ anyone who’s tagged me or I’ve tagged and who’s urls I’m forgetting, anyone who sees this and wants to brag, you dear reader, please share your stuff if you wanna!

[galpalaven]

I have seen Solas and his archetype compared to Fane from DOS2 before (he's compared to DAI-era Solas, with the difference that he's not constrained by being the next game's 'villain' so he's allowed to grow more as a person. In light of the DAtV reveals I don't think the comparison works as well anymore) but this is the first time I've seen him compared to Emet-Selch, so I tried to look that game up without getting spoiled too hard (jrpgs are usually not really my thing, but I had some fun with ff15, so I figured ff14 should be modern enough that I can get a kick out of it if they game systems aren't too obnoxious) and it's an... mmo? An mmo. An Emet-Selch is a villain who shows up for one story arc, gets a cameo (or is it a flashback? I couldn't really make sense of it from the blurb I found) in another and that's all.

I agree with much of the DAtV criticism, but are we really comparing the paper-thin writing of an mmo to the rich world and lore of the Dragon Age games? DAtV wastes a lot of its potential, but that still feels like an extremely and incomprehensibly uncharitable stance to take.

Rich coming from someone who didn’t look up the plot and hasn’t fucking played the dreaded mmo??

You know the other part of MMO is RPG.

You’ve looked up nothing, read nothing, and haven’t played FFXIV at all. How would you know what the writing is like? You wouldn’t!

You have zero fuckin room to stand on claiming it’s worse than Dragon Age JUST because it’s an MMORPG. Go read the lore or watch a video (here this one directly compares Solas and Emet-Selch) and come back when you’ve done your homework lmfao

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

Sorry Interface – I saw that long CK confession and clearly, I have too much time on my hands because it annoyed me enough that I have to submit a rebuttal.  So here is a point-by-point counter argument because I am tired of you CK defenders *not getting the point*.

“He’s a trickster”

Just because someone is a trickster figure does not mean they are exempt from being an ass.  That’s just making excuses.

“He’s all about equality. Punishment fitting the crime.”

Okay yes, the CK trapping Edwin in Port Townsend *is* a fitting punishment for trapping a cat.  This is true.  However, the CK’s first offer to get the bracelet off was for Edwin to have sex with him. That is textbox sexual coercion. 

“If he hadn’t trapped Edwin, Niko would’ve died.”

Irrelevant to the CK’s actions.  He did not trap Edwin with the intention of saving Niko.  That was total coincidence and is not related to the ethicality CK’s actions.

“I don’t know why people keep calling TCK a predator.”

See point 2.  The CK trapped Edwin in town and the first (and easier) option to escape was to have sex with him.  That is sexual coercion; plain and simple.  The CK only gave Edwin the counting cats option as a way to wear him down and make excuses to see Edwin again.  Every time he saw Edwin after the initial rejection, he was *still* making sexual advances towards Edwin that were clearly unwanted.  It isn’t like he just ‘let it go’ after their first meeting.  Remember “I will STOP PLAYING NICE!” moment in ep 6?  He just kept pushing up until Edwin was taken to Hell.

“he (CK) literally did everything Monty did.”

No, he didn’t.  I don’t like Monty either, but Monty legitimately thought Edwin had feelings for him and acted on those feelings.  And also, Monty never *trapped Edwin so he couldn’t leave*.  That is a pretty big distinction.

“We don’t know how old Monty is either” “Suspend your belief about ages” & all other age discourse things

This is the part where we agree.  Any age discourse in this show is dumb because of all the non-aging characters.  No one of the main cast should be perceived as ‘off limits’ to anyone else in the main cast purely due to age.  That is stupid.

However, there are power dynamics at play, and forcing someone to remain in a town against their will does count as one of those!  The CK holds Edwin’s freedom over his head for most of the show and presents a deal that is inherently impossible for Edwin to properly consent to because he is unable to leave.

You can like the CK and find him interesting or sexy or whatever.  That isn’t the problem.  The problem is that a lot of you out there do not seem to understand that what he did was *wrong* plain and simple.  Characters do not have to be morally correct (see Charles pushing NN off cliff, Edwin trapping the cat, Crystal and… everything she did in her past), but as fans we should be able to look at a piece of media and properly analyze it and see actions for what they are. 

The CK *is* a predator who tried to coerce Edwin into sex for freedom.

.

[miniscule-meow]

Isabell and the Lads (17)

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2.9k Warnings: angst, swears First Part | Last Part | Next Part (eventually)

It has only been two days since her… incident with Marcus, but Zeke seemed to pick up on the disconnect instantly. He came home after class that day, and it was like he could smell that something was wrong. He’s regarded her cautiously ever since, but he hasn’t said anything about it. His gaze has just lingered between her and Marcus, his brow knitting together as if he’s trying to silently solve a puzzle. To their credit, the humans seemed to realize that she needed some space, and they didn’t push the issue. Marcus has hardly even looked at her since that day, and he absolutely refuses to hold her.

Frustratingly, she has mixed feelings about the whole ordeal. She doesn’t know why part of her twists uncomfortably when Marcus pointedly avoids her. Getting a human to leave her alone should be a major victory. There’s just something so bittersweet about the whole thing, she can’t figure it out. It can’t be that she likes these humans. Tolerating them is one thing, but actually liking them? Looking forward to spending time with them? Craving the warmth of being held- No. That’s not it. The fact that she’s even considering it makes her insides cringe with the sense of her own betrayal. She doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t plan on getting attached. As soon as she’s able to, she’s going right back home and all the entrances to this apartment are getting her signature big black ‘X’ across them.

That day can’t be too far off. Her leg has been slowly getting better now that the stitches are out, but she’s still stuck here for the time being.

She’s been taking stock of everything that she has and everything that she needs to get together in preparation for the journey back home. She wants to bring as much as she can carry back with her, so that when she gets home, she can finally have a respite from humans before having to turn around and go borrowing again. And since she’s in a position nowadays where she has humans just willing to bring her whatever she wants, it would be foolish not to get what she needs. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to gather supplies without them figuring out what she’s doing. If they suspect that she’s getting ready to leave… They’ve been nice so far; she’s just not convinced that they’ll let her go so easily. She can easily imagine what they might say:

Why don’t you just stay a little longer?

Do you really have to go? You’d be much safer here anyway.

 Of course, we think of you as a roommate, you just can’t leave.

Just let me take care of you.

Absolutely not. They’ve been nice enough, far nicer than she could have imagined, even despite the bumps along the way. But she’s not going to let herself become some little pet for them to keep. She just has to wait a little while longer, just until she’s ready.

The movement around her snags her attention, pulling her away from her planning. She’s out on the kitchen counter, Zeke had suggested they all watch a movie together. Marcus had tried to get out of it, but it’s growing apparent that both of them have a hard time saying no to one another. Hopefully, they can all just watch the movie, and things will smooth over on their own. Zeke is the sort of person who just seems to be able to fix things. It might be a lot of pressure to put on him, but to her, that’s what he does. He must have a plan, so she’s confident that things will be fine.

“Why don’t you two go pick out a movie?” Zeke suggests. He steps aside to let Marcus scoop her up and whisk her off into the living room. Judging from his previous track record, he should have leapt at the chance to hold her. Instead, he gives a noncommittal hum.

“You go ahead, I always pick. I’ll just make popcorn this time,” Marcus responds quickly. His words are so nonchalant, one might think that nothing was wrong, but it’s his quick movement across the room that betrays him. It’s as if he’s putting as much distance between them as the kitchen will allow. He’s not a very good liar, she observes. She shares a look with Zeke, both of them clocking the oddity of his actions before she just shrugs.

“Okay,” Zeke says finally, freezing Marcus in his tracks. “Would someone like to tell me what happened?” He leans against the counter in front of her, “Isabell?” he prompts.

“It’s really not a big deal, you don’t need to be upset or anything,” she responds simply.

“I’m not upset, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. You two have been weird the past couple days.”  She looks away, unwilling to respond. He blinks down at her slowly before turning his gaze over to his roommate. “Alright. Marcus?”

For a moment, Marcus remains silent, leveling his own stubborn gaze to meet Zeke’s. She can’t see the look he’s giving but she can see his jaw flex. Even from her extreme angle she knows, he’s displeased. Eventually, Marcus succumbs to his measured stare.

“I hurt her,” he says fiercely, “that’s what happened.”

Slowly, Zeke’s eyes drift down to find her again. As they do, the atmosphere in the room freezes. She avoids his gaze while he inspects her. She can’t even begin to chisel through the wall concealing his thoughts. Perhaps he’s wondering why she didn’t tell him sooner. Perhaps he’s just checking to see how hurt she might be. Maybe he’s just irritated by the tension that’s been sparking between them for the past few days and that’s all.

She can’t help but feel as though he wants something from her. She just shakes her head, unable to find any words that might satisfy him. His eyes narrow in response.

“Like, visibly? Or…” He turns back to Marcus, prodding for more information.

“Yes, Zeke,” his voice is clipped with irritation. “She’s bruised all over, and then I freaked her out so bad that she tried to jump out of my hands. I yelled at her when I caught her, so I probably traumatized her too. It wasn’t cute.”

Zeke’s stare finds her again. There is a dangerous intensity in his eyes now, and all of it is focused on her. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, everything is okay. It doesn’t even hurt, and she knows he didn’t mean to do it. But the nerves sparking through her make it impossible for her to speak. Not while he’s looking at her like that. She’s seen Zeke look at Marcus like this before, and she swore that if she was ever the focus of his ire that she would simply disintegrate on the spot. Now that she’s finally found herself on the receiving end, she can confirm it is every bit as uncomfortable as she imagined it to be. Her mind is static, her tongue is ash, and her lungs feel as though they have filled with water.

“May I see?” He leans towards her, keeping his voice even with notable effort.

Isabell knows that Zeke won’t respond the same way Marcus had, grabbing her and taking a look for himself. Or at least, she thinks she knows. That small seed of doubt is enough to confirm for her that it’s not a risk she is willing to take right now.

She knows how he got when he saw her bruise from before, the one that had convinced her that she had a broken rib. That one wasn’t even caused by one of the lads, and yet the way he stilled around her… the way he held his breath as his eyes took in every sallow green and blossoming purple that had printed itself against her side…. his rugged voice whispering, ‘is that from me?’ That bruise has since faded, and she would be almost back to normal if it wasn’t for the small smattering of purples and blues that have replaced it. She’s certain she just bruises easily. Marcus hasn’t been that reckless with her. Besides, she spoke to him about it already. She can fight her own battles, even if they’re against humans. Sure, the conversation was a disaster, but admittedly it had results. You can’t bruise someone if you refuse to even look in their direction.

She shakes her head insistently, gripping the hem of her shirt so tightly that her knuckles turn white. It’s fine, she wants to insist, but her throat constricts, refusing to let her generate any sound. Zeke studies her for a moment, long enough for her to fear that he’ll override her choice, and he’ll make her show him the bruises after all. Instead, he eventually breathes a small sigh.

“Okay,” his massive fingers drum against the countertop in front of her. “Marcus,” He finally turns his attention back to his roommate, his tone is deeply disappointed.

“I don’t need a lecture from you, alright?” Marcus snaps back, “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve told you to be careful, I keep telling you to—”

“I know, Zeke. I know!” Marcus interjects, growing louder. Zeke doesn’t yield, his own voice raising to match him. Isabell’s hands clamp over her ears quickly. Zeke is always so collected, part of her didn’t think it was even possible for him to raise his voice. She was wrong.

“You don’t listen! She is the size of one of your fingers. Seriously, can you imagine how terrifying that must be for her? She’s already putting so much trust in us, you can’t—”

“I know!” Marcus repeats himself, finally fully shouting. “Step off! You’re being overbearing.”

“Over—” Zeke echoes with a sputter, visibly taken aback by this.

“Yes! You’re overbearing and you’re controlling. I know I fucked up, but at least I treat her like she’s another person.”

“Excuse me?” Zeke hisses the words, and the air feels like it’s been sucked from the room.

“You hover over her like she’s going to break if you look at her the wrong way,” Marcus presses on, apparently not at all concerned that he’s winding Zeke tighter than a spring.

“First of all—”

“Like, she’s an adult, dude. She’s survived this long on her own, do you think she needs you?”

“No. No, you don’t get to do that. This isn’t about me! You hurt her. You can’t just—”

“I know! I feel awful. She told me I was hurting her; I’m trying to be better. She doesn’t need you cooing over her all the time like a mother hen.”

“I do not—”

“Yes, you do.” Marcus plows on, hardly letting Zeke get a word in edgewise. “Yes, you do! What do you think you’re doing right fucking now?”

Their voices continue to overlap. Marcus punctuates his words by talking with his hands, slamming things around. Zeke remains anchored to the counter, his hand balled into a tight fist.

And then there’s Isabell. Stuck, as is becoming the pattern lately. She’s stuck right in the middle of this shouting match the humans are having about her. They’re fighting about her like she isn’t even here. She feels so bottled up, she finally just bursts.

“Stop it!” She shouts, maybe louder than she ever has before in her entire life. It has to be fruitless. How could a little borrower possibly cut in on a fight between humans? But to her surprise, they both stop. Right in the middle of their sentences, they just freeze. Zeke jolts, his hand that was resting nearby on the counter jerks away, as if she’s burned him. “You are fighting over me like I’m a toy! Just stop,” breathing heavily, her voice already feels raw. She was not made to be loud.

A muscle twitches in Zeke’s cheek as his jaw clenches. His sharp eyes bore into her now. He throws a glance back to Marcus, then with a breath, his expression smooths. His shoulders straighten, and it’s like a wall slides evenly in place over his feelings.

“I’m going to take a walk,” he grumbles coldly. She feels like she just watched him pack all of his stray emotions into a tidy little box. Before anyone can stop him, he’s gone, slamming the front door behind him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Marcus breathes a heavy sigh in response. Then, the room settles into a thick silence.

“Marcus?” She calls out to him tentatively. Part of her expects him to storm off too, leaving her forgotten on the counter.

“What.” His response is sharp and dry.

“I just- I’m- I didn’t mean to—”

“Isabell, I swear if you fucking apologize to me right now—” he cuts himself off. Obviously on a jittery high from his fight with Zeke, he pushes his blonde curls back away from his face.

“Can you- Can you just let me get through what I have to say? Please?” There is a quiet desperation that leaches into her voice. If Marcus starts yelling at her too… Having humans yell over her is bad enough, she doesn’t want him yelling at her. Not again. He just nods, clamping his jaw shut and crossing his arms. She takes a deep breath, hoping she can actually manage to say everything she needs to. “I got scared, and I overreacted,” it’s a good start. Maybe most of her life could be described that way. “I know you don’t want me to say it, but I’m sorry. I am.” Now that she’s begun sorting through the words that have been jumbling around in her brain the past few days, they just keep coming.

“I mean, it’s hard. I’m afraid of humans. Obviously. I always have been, and for good reasons. But I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of either of you, really. Not anymore at least. It’s just weird, because I keep feeling like something bad is going to happen. Like something really bad, worse than a fight or a couple of bruises, but it just never happens. You and Zeke, you literally saved my life. It’s not fair to you that I just keep expecting you to do something to hurt me. Logically, at this point, I know you’re safe. It’s just that I’m fighting every instinct I have to even just talk to you. Sometimes it just takes my brain to catch up with me, to go from, ‘Danger! This is a human!’ To, ‘Oh, this is one of my humans, it’s okay.’ I didn’t mean to make anyone upset. I didn’t want to start a fight. I’m sorry. Can we just be okay now? Please?” She didn’t mean to say that much, but it feels good to finally get some of that off her chest.

The enormity of what she said catches up to her like a freight train.

My humans.

She looks up at him, wondering if he noticed. Marcus is finally, finally, looking at her. His eyes are misty, and his lips are pulled into a wobbly smile. One thing she’s grown to appreciate about him is that you can always tell exactly what he’s thinking when you look at him. He blinks, and two tears roll down his cheeks, with more soon to follow. He definitely noticed.

Wordlessly, he offers her a trembling palm. She climbs into his hand without hesitation, hugging his fingers tightly. He pulls her right up to his face, holding her against his damp cheek.

“Bleh! Don’t cry on me!” She laughs, halfheartedly pushing against him. He turns his face, nuzzling his nose right into her middle.

“Sorry, sorry,” the world trembles around her as he laughs and as he cries. He moves her down to his chest, holding her close.

“Are you okay?” She rubs his thumb comfortingly. The irony of someone so small like her being able to offer any comfort to someone as big as him is not lost on her.

“Me?” He says with a laugh, though it’s followed by a small sniffle. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m pretty tough.”

“And Zeke?” She asks cautiously, “I’ve never seen him so upset.”

“He’ll cool off eventually,”

“You really know how to push his buttons, huh?”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” he takes her over to the living room as he speaks, reclining back on the couch. “Zeke and I pretty much grew up together.” As he shifts, she goes from sitting in his hand to laying against his chest with his hand just resting around her comfortably. She settles into him, it’s like the bubble of fear that had been clinging to her has just suddenly popped.

Thinking about Marcus and Zeke growing up together makes her think about her brother. Her heart squeezes in her chest, leaving behind a hollow ache. If he could see her now… He’d have some strong words for her, that’s for sure. She really hates how big this world is, how she’s too small to fit in properly, how it’s separated her from the people that she loves, and how unlikely it is that they’ll ever find each other again. But right now, with Marcus’ warmth surrounding her, it doesn’t seem so bad.

She realizes that she might be incredibly touch-starved. Before all this, when was the last time she spoke to anyone else? Never mind the last time she hugged anybody. She has grown so accustomed to being completely alone that she hadn’t realized that this was something she was lacking. Of course, now that she knows, her resolve to escape back to the walls slips from her grasp, just ever so slightly. Enough for new, dangerous questions to creep at the edge of her mind.

Can she really go back to living all alone?

What have these humans done to her.

[nellielsss]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Tσʝι'ʂ Bιɾƚԋԃαყ… αɳԃ ƚԋҽ Nҽɯ Yҽαr!

Summary: it's your man's birthday--and the new year! What better to reign in the new year by celebrating both? And at a festival no less! Ft: Toji Zen'in/Fushiguro CW: mentions of child abuse (pertaining to Toji) Note: two fics in the span of a week?! How amazing is that! Also I can't believe 2025 is already gonna be this week!!! Happy birthday to my #1 man everybody ☺️ Also this isn't proofread since I wanted to get it out before I'd be too busy to finish it in time, so there might be grammatical errors!!

To be quite honest, the New Year was yet another one of those holidays that Toji didn't give a shit about. Christmas, New Year's, Golden Week... none of those were anything memorable to Toji growing up. Why would he care when he had more important things to care about, like getting out of his shitty family and his shitty living situation? Why buy presents for people when he had nobody to buy said presents for and could just spend the money on horse racing instead? It was a no brainer for him, obviously. Just get through the week, swallow all those stupid "Happy New Year!"s from the stupid drunkards passing him by, and get on with his day.

And what was so special about the new year? The earth passed around the sun for another year--so fucking what? Everybody dies in the end anyway. People should loathe there being another year, because it means one year closer to death. January was also a shitty month on its own, so there was that.

There was also the fact that it was his birthday.

The painful reminder that he was put on this earth 20-something years ago, that his parents were stupid enough to not wear a condom or pull out that resulted in him being born into this equally stupid world. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid--all of this was so stupid. His birthday, the new year... he really couldn't give a shit.

But that didn't mean you couldn't care about both things!

The way you saw it, it was another year on this earth where the sun didn't explode and there wasn't a nuclear war that destroyed everything; and Toji's birthday meant that he had another year to look forward to being alive. That was just the kind of person you were: uplifting, vibrant, and always seeing the good in everybody and everything, especially your boyfriend.

(You didn't actually see the good in everyone; that was just a figure of speech. Plus, your boyfriend had a lot of good to see!)

This means that, for the past 2 years you've been together, you've gone all out for both holidays, dragging him to holiday festivals and making a day out of his special day, buying him presents when he didn't feel worthy of receiving such thoughtful items.

He's never even had a present from someone who wasn't his handler, and that's because he was contracted to him. All he's received is beatings and hateful words from his family, who made sure to make a nightmare out of what was supposed to be his special day. So, it didn't strike you as surprising when he cried his eyes out when he got his first present, but all of that was another story for another day.

So, here you were, putting on Toji's special black haori that you bought for him on one special day. It went perfectly with the dark green kimono that went perfectly with his dark green eyes. "Don't you look handsome, handsome," you mused, smoothing out the dark fabric.

He rolled his eyes and tried to play the compliment off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not much of a fan of this kinda stuff anyway. 'Much prefer the sweats and tee I always got on."

"The ones you end up ripping while out on your job?" You teased, poking his chest with a long, manicured nail. "I can't have my boyfriend running around in rags. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I did, hmm?"

Toji snorted in response. "Hey, sweets, I'm the boyfriend here. Aren't I supposed to be the responsible one, spoiling you instead?"

"I guess I'm a fan of both," you shrugged earnestly. You stepped back after his haori was put on, and you went to look at yourself in the mirror with a big, confident smile on your face. The pink flowers on your red kimono went perfectly with all the little hairpins on your head, and the geta sandals you wore almost made you tall enough to not be dwarfed by the hulk of a man that your boyfriend was.

While admiring yourself in the mirror, Toji approached behind you and wrapped his massive arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "'N I'm a fan of you, sugar," he grinned with earnestness. "This color, especially. And all those cute little flowers you got in that hair of 'yers."

"Don't mess up my hair, Toji," you chastised him when he tried to play with the little pins. "One wrong move, and your 'sugar' won't be so sweet anymore."

He chuckled, shook his head, and walked away from you. "Right, right. Wouldn't want that happenin' anytime soon." He grabbed your purse and handed it to you, then wrapped the fur collar you had laid out around your neck. "And I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, either."

"Why, thank you, handsome," you giggled softly. "You ready to go?"

"Always if it involves you." He took your hand in his much larger one, pressed a kiss to the back of it, and led you out of the closet and the house.

Said festival that you dragged him to was just as amazing as always. The minute you got there, you dragged him to the first stand that you saw and played a game of ball toss (which he let you win, obviously; you didn't stand a chance at beating his assassin aim, and he'd much rather see you win than him), ate some takoyaki, and ran around doing whatever you two wanted to do.

"Let's go play that game next!" Was what you always said after every last game, dragging him around by the wrist with an unseen strength.

"Make sure my hand doesn't get yanked off first, doll," he chuckled simply.

At the dart toss, he decided to show off for you a little bit. What was the fun in simply rolling over belly-up when he can A. flex his biceps and B. show off his aim? He'd trained it for so long, so why not show off a bit? Each dart hit the bullseye, and he won you a giant New Year's special Hello Kitty plushie.

Which he ended up holding for you. You weren't lifting a finger, not while he was around.

Each game, each food stand, each little thing the both of you did only made the night more & more fun. He could definitely get used to celebrating his birthday and the New Year by playing silly little games and eating little delicacies here and there.

"Here, try this one!" You held up a bit of squid for him to try, and you fed it to him with your chopsticks. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing with your mouth stuffed, hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes at you with the food in his mouth and tried to say "shut yer trap" but instead sounded like he was muttering gibberish, resulting in you simply laughing and hugging him quickly.

Around you, the snow began to fall a bit more amidst the glow of the New Years lanterns, and all the little kids started to cheer for the specks of white snowflakes. Now, Toji wasn't a man who was hung up on the idea of starting a family, but it felt like a glimpse into the future that the two of you were going to build.

He didn't even feel worthy of having kids or a happy life in the first place. All those years of trauma, of being hit like a hurt dog & called a shit-stain on this earth had taken root in his brain, and digging them out felt like a job for an expert gardener (of which he was nothing of the sort), but with you, the light of his life, the angel of his salvation...

"Toji!"

You snapped him out of his little thought tangent and smiled at him. "Come, I wanna give you a present."

He grinned cheekily and let you lead him to a secluded area. "Oh? You finally gonna gimme that kiss you've been dangling over my head for so long?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, handsome," you chided with a little giggle. "It's something much more special than a simple kiss. Besides, haven't I given you enough kisses for the day?"

"Have some sympathy for the birthday boy, dollie," he said while clutching his chest dramatically.

You turned to the side, taking something out of the purse you'd brought with you. "I made this just for you, Toji." You handed him a little book and waited with an expectant smile on your face.

"Y'know I don't read much, sweets- ow!" He didn't anticipate the little flick of the forehead he received for that comment.

"Just open it already," you pouted impatiently.

It was a small book with a thick cover & back--more cover than book if anything, so this was definitely not an ordinary book. Turning the book open, his eyes lit up when he saw the little pop-up that came out of the pages.

In the little pop-up book, there were photos of you together ordered by date and event. There was the first time you met, your first official date, the milestones you'd completed as a couple...

In the back of the book was a small note that contained your elegant handwriting and read:

"Dear Toji, dear my future husband, dear the best thing that's ever happened to me! I'm not very good with words, but to put it simply: I am so incredibly grateful to be your sweetheart. To think that we're already celebrating your birthday again (and yet another new year!) is mind-boggling, to say the least. Time really does flow by when you're with the people you love. Your strength, your resilience, your self-confidence and willingness to grow and change despite all that's happened to you is an inspiration, and I find myself growing and changing along with you. Happy birthday, and happy new year!! Love, your sweetheart."

He didn't even notice the tears that were streaming down his face until the paper got noticeably wetter. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from sobbing, and he shakily closed the book. "Dollie, this is..."

"Hey, hey, big guy," you comforted him carefully, knowing how emotional he got sometimes. "It's okay to cry, y'know. It's okay to cry around me."

You encircled your arms around him and let him crush you in turn with his much larger ones, and you let him cry into your hair.

"This is... the b-best gift I've ever gotten," he admitted, muffled by the strands of your hair. "Thank you... thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so fuckin' much, I don't know what to do with myself sometimes."

"It's alright, you don't need to know what to do all the time," you reassured him, looking up at him when he pulled away from your hair. "You just need to know that it's okay to let others take the wheel, yeah?"

He nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve. "Got me cryin' like a little bitch here," he said, chuckling chokingly.

"And you're not a little bitch," you reminded him by flicking his forehead. "You're Toji, my Toji. No amount of tears will ever change that."

"Aye aye, dollie," he joked, even saluting you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and snorted. "C'mon, let's go write our wish for the New Year before the clock strikes twelve, 'kay?"

At the shrine in the center of the festival, the two of you took two things of paper and went to the shrine. You both turned from each other to keep things a secret, although it's not much of a secret when you both wrote "a happy life with my future wife/husband" on your papers.

Once written, you both hung them up and walked away from the shrine. "So, what'dya write, dollie?" He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"It defeats the purpose if I tell you what I wrote, genius," you retorted (with another sassy look from your end).

"Guess you're right," he shrugged. He pulled back his kimono sleeve to eye the time, and he realized it was already 11:52 and the new year was about to arrive sooner than he'd expected. "Shit, guess it's gonna be 2025 real soon, ain't that right?"

"Time flies when you're having fun with your man," you giggled cheekily.

He reached around and smacked your ass real quick after you said that. "And ain't that right as well," he replied with an equally cheeky grin.

As the minutes ticked by, you thought about how incredibly blessed you were to have each other in your life. You'd started and were about to end the year with each other, at the same festival that you'd attended last year. He used to hate sameness and repetition, always searching for something to spice things up...

But he didn't need to search for anything when he had you.

Turns out, the only thing he needed to spice up his life was someone who could give him the stability he so desperately craved and needed to survive.

He was so used to turbulence, to not getting a day nor night's rest, that he'd forgotten to stop and smell the roses.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" Those numbers caught him off guard, but he didn't have to worry when you kissed him right as the new year rang in.

"Happy New Year!"

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/31/2024

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 55

Adorable title image. They're all hugging someone or something they love. Chilchuck has a daughter so he probably cares about Izutsumi like one, not that he'll ever admit it. And Shuro's the kind of person to never show he loves his retainers, so we instead see Maizuru hugging little Shuro.

It's funny seeing Thistle getting knocked around so easily. He's been this menacing figure since his first introduction so it's nice to see that he's actually kind of pathetic when he can't use his magic.

The Canaries have several fairies on them and can use them to communicate. I'd guess this one is Mithrun's but I also kind of feel like it might be Otta's.

We've seen that Otta has terraforming magic, and Cithis seems to be a mage, but what are these two doing?

One of them seems to be a beastmaster while the other is a beastkin. Maybe the info from that guy could help out Izutsumi at some point.

Okay so some of the Canaries are criminals. And all the ones grouped together when Kabru thought of that were the ones with those clippings on their ears. So that's actually a mark of them being criminals.

Mithrun teleported Kabru's leg into a walking mushroom.

That is a very nasty splinter.

Mithrun was probably trying to completely sever Thistle's arm but screwed up since his depth perception is poor.

The objects Mithrun teleports keep their momentum so kicking a board and then teleporting it into Thistle's leg means that the board moved around inside him. His leg muscles were probably shredded by that move.

Was it ever mentioned that you have to be willing to be teleported for it to work? Thistle is able to resist Mithrun's magic. Also, I think he's trying to burn Mithrun's arm but Mithrun doesn't care.

I think Mithrun was trying to be compassionate to Thistle when he told him about Delgal being dead. It looks like Mithrun loosened his grip on Thistle's throat before saying anything. Mithrun knows Thistle created the dungeon under Delgal's orders, and he thinks that if Thistle learns Delgal is dead, he'll have no reason to continue serving him. Maybe Mithrun thinks Thistle is a slave needing to be freed.

At first, this makes it seem like trying to convince Thistle to stop won't work, but Kabru mentions that Mithrun did a horrible job explaining things. Maybe it would work if someone more compassionate tried to talk instead. I don't think anyone in Laios's party will be able to pull that off.

Thistle is in denial that Delgal had been pushing him away for all those years.

It should only have been a few hours since the raid fight, but all Falin's injuries are healed. Thistle probably healed her.

Addendum: Mithrun can teleport himself. This will definitely not cause additional problems in the future.

The western elves definitely come from some elf-supremacist place. They have no respect for other races' lifespans at all. If it was an egalitarian society, short-lived races would have an expedited interrogation process since time matters far more to them. Actually, whatever system where a person could be imprisoned indefinitely for questioning because elves don't think much about time would be thrown out.

I wonder if there are some laws that adjust prison times based on a race's life expectancy. Like, if a Tallman would get 10 years in prison, a Half-foot should get 6 years and an elf 50 years. Giving the same prison time sentence would be far crueler to short-lived races but mean practically nothing to a long-lived one.

Kabru's beloved smother mother

Was Rin also from Utaya or some other village destroyed by a dungeon? Doesn't seem like she was taken in by someone like Kabru's foster mother.

Kabru had one of those "To be lawful or good" moments. His ultimate goal is to ensure a second Utaya doesn't happen. Initially, he thought his best bet was to let Laios conquer the dungeon while Kabru keeps the Canaries from charging in and causing problems. But the Canaries have quickly and efficiently handled the situation far and above Kabru's expectations.

Kabru's acting like Laios in this moment. He's asking why black magic is so bad, and he's realized there's more to a dungeon that what the elves let on. If Thistle was some horrible monster rather than a servant trying to help his king, and if Falin were able to be as dangerous on the surface as she was below, Kabru might have let the canaries act. But there's too much inconsistency with the dungeon now and what happened in Utaya for him to just let it go.

And he wants to do his part to save Falin as well.

Oh that eye on the book moves. So the part in chapter 42 is as ominous as it appeared.

No telling what the red dragon's personality was before fusing with Falin, but Falin's compassionate and caring side has definitely become part of its personality.

I'm sure this all happens before chapter 47. I went back through it to see Thistle's outfit and he's wearing different clothes from this one. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and his garment seems to go further down his legs as well. He was also visibly tired, probably on edge after nearly dying and also having to think about what Mithrun told him.

His eyes were also in the same shape as the eyes on his book.

We've had so many dramatic chapters with Kabru and it all ended with him falling to an uncertain doom as he entrusts Laios to achieve what he could not.

And then it cuts to this:

So much is happening in the wider world. Meanwhile in the future, Laios and company are still getting into hijinks, completely unaware of anything going on.

Since Changelings transform their victims into "similar" creatures, Marcille's transformation into an ogre implies ogres are in the same taxonic human classification. And Izutsumi has transformed into two different demi-humans now. So despite being born a Tallman, her beastkin status causes the mushrooms to classify her as closer to them.

I kind of want to throw Izutsumi into a changeling ring several times to see what might happen. Would she eventually turn into a mermaid?

And this made me think that maybe orcs and kobolds have a similar origin to Izutsumi. Like, what if there were ancient experiments to fuse human and animal souls, and the results created a large population of beings that were capable of reproduction? Orcs would have been pig-beastkin while kobolds were dog-beastkin.

Marcille's outfit is amazingly elastic. The front buttons are barely holding together, but her pants and sleeves are not having any issues despite all of Marcille's limbs now being thicker than her elf body.

Oh, I never took Laios as a fan of muscular women. I guess he really was admiring Zon's wives in MMT2.

Also, Marcille has a new hairstyle. Twin braided tails.

I can't believe the frog suits came back, even if just a little.

Senshi is having such a hard time cooking as a half-foot. He can barely reach the counter and he needs Chilchuck to mix everything cause his hands aren't big enough.

Senshi's worry that Izutsumi wouldn't drink a mushroom tonic ended up being unfounded. Turns out, changing species affects your taste afterall and orc Izutsumi likes mushrooms.

Did someone cut up Izutsumi's hamburg steak for her? She's the only one not using a knife.

At some point during the fall, Kabru realized that he's leaving everything to a group of clowns.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back

[grapecaseschoices]

wyll really deserves better. wow. like i knew it. but seeing the way ravengard speaks to him. i could just choke.,

i'm glad tav/durge can call him a bastard anad say he shouldve drowned. bc whew.

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[iiscpr]

more bullshit