#i started writing this as a lil exercise in writing and then i just kept WRITING lmao

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 16

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; male on female violence; female on male violence; allusions to SA; injuries; blood

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little shorter. It was very heavy to write. Please be mindful of the warnings!

Your back hit the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. The taste of blood was strong and metallic in your mouth from biting your tongue the last time he hit you. Daryl’s hands were immediately on your throat, pressing enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible. 

There was a cut on his cheek, his lip split and bleeding. “What’re ya gonna do now?” You whined and struggled, his hold only tightening. “Y/N!” Your wide eyes met his, bruises throbbing. 

“I…I…” You fought the tears but they just kept coming. 

“Who am I?” You grit your teeth, fingers clawing at his wrists. The archer leaned in close, growling in your face. “Who am I, Y/N?”

“Daryl!” You choked out, vocal chords grating against the pressure.   

“No!” He removed one hand, slapping you hard across the face. Your jaw clenched, cheek burning. “Would he do this? Would he?”

“No!” You shouted, squirming when he pressed his body weight against you. “Never!”

“Cryin’ like a lil’ bitch! Is that gonna save ya out there?!” Daryl pulled you forward and slammed you back again, the cement scraping your back through your t-shirt. “Who am I, Y/N?!”

He had started simple. Push-ups, crunches, lunges, core strengthening exercise. No matter how your muscles burned; how weak you were by the end of the day, he wouldn’t allow you to stop for more than a small water break until dinner time.

Sometimes you ate, sometimes you showered, and sometimes you just went up to the perch and burrowed into the mattress, your need to be clean forgotten in favor of the burning ache in your arms and legs. Regardless of your choice, Daryl would follow you. He’d hand you the shorts and tank top you’d started using for sleeping and turn his back until you changed. You’d hear the water dripping into the basin as he wrung out a cloth, holding it over your sore arms and legs. 

“Ain’t got no ice. M’sorry.”

You’d smile tiredly and thank him. 

When your muscles cramped, he’d massage them while telling you how well you did that day. If you made mistakes, he’d talk you through it as the rough pads of his fingers worked the tension out of your body. 

“Drink your water. Ya muscles do somethin’ that sucks if ya don’t drink enough after ya piss ‘em off.”

You had laughed at his verbiage, but tipped the cup to your lips anyway. 

The evening before you were supposed to begin learning hand to hand defense, you couldn’t find Daryl anywhere inside the prison. 

“Hey, have you seen Daryl?” You asked from the doorway of the kitchen. Carol glanced up from the stew with a gentle smile and you knew that she knew. Of course she did. The archer talked to her about everything. 

“He’s outside. Down by the garden.” You nodded and turned away, looking over your shoulder at the soft call of your name. “Please remember he cares about you.”

You mulled over the words before giving her a thin-lipped smile. “I know.”

Daryl watched the clouds move across the orange and purple sky, the most beautiful part of the day in his opinion. When things began to go still for the night. He could almost ignore the growls and snarls from beyond the fence and pretend he was on a hunting trip with Merle, everything back the way it used to be. 

He would have his brother back, but he wouldn’t have you. A catch 22 that he didn’t dare try to contemplate further. 

He heard your quiet footfalls from the top of the hill, his hunter’s senses still keen even though he had cut back in recent days to make sure your training was consistent. The community wasn’t happy that they were doing without the meat. Again. When it was your safety in question, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the thoughts of the community. 

“What’re you doing out here all alone?” You asked, plopping down beside him. He gave a soft snort. 

“Ya act like it ain’t somethin’ I do all the time.”

“Feels different this time.” 

He braved a glance at you, your expression soft and concerned. 

“S’ cause it is.” He replied. Daryl began plucking blades of grass while you laid your head on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch and it never failed to surprise him. 

“I know that everything that happens is so I can learn.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay.” You pushed against him slightly and smiled up at him when he looked down. His stomach fluttered and he found himself smiling back, even if it was only a slight upturn of one corner of his mouth. When you looked back to the sky, the colors blending and fading, you sighed in contentment. “It’s beautiful.”

Sunset forgotten, he kept his sights on you; the glow of the last light in your eyes, the soft tint of your skin. 

“Yeah, it is.”

If you thought cardio was exhausting, then hand to hand defense was downright debilitating. You dodged and kicked and punched, soft contact while the moves were new. 

“That’s good. Now drop your arm.” Daryl instructed, his hold light while you did as he said. “Turn ‘round an’—” You spun and thrust the heel of your hand up, slow and deliberate, stopping just below his nose. The archer blinked at you while you waited for him to either praise or reprimand. “I didn’t teach ya that.”

Folding your fingers, you lowered your hand. “I’m sorry, it just—”

“Nah, it was good.” He smirked. “Real good.”

You beamed, feeling like you had made a lot of progress. You’d been practicing for three days, watching Daryl, memorizing, executing. It was clear that he had spent a lot of time fighting, teaching you to throw and dodge punches, where to kick to inflict the most damage, and how to wiggle out of certain holds. He was a scrapper, he’d told you as much. No fancy stances or breaking boards with your forehead. 

“M’gonna teach ya to fight fair an’ to fight dirty.” He had said. “If ya have to fight nowadays, dirty’s the way to go. In the end, ya just wanna survive.” You had nodded, learning what Daryl called cheap shots. “If ya can, ya always run. Fightin’s a last resort, ya hear me?”

“Okay.”

At first he only demonstrated and then watched you mimic. He touched you the least amount possible until he absolutely needed to and even then his hands were gentle in instruction. He didn’t tell you when you’d start actually engaging with him. 

You’d find out soon enough that he didn’t want you to know. 

Daryl had lunged at you in the middle of push-ups one evening, snatching you from the ground by your hair only to toss you aside like a ragdoll. Dazed, you gawked at him, watched him remove the holsters holding his knife and gun. You chastised yourself for not seeing it coming. He’d kept you out late, nighttime nearly upon you. 

You crab-walked backwards to keep as much distance as possible between you, caught completely off guard and more than a little afraid watching him stalk toward you. 

“D-Daryl?” 

“What? Ya think you’re gonna get the courtesy of a warnin’ out there?” He was fast but you were faster, slipping away just in time when his boot came for your abdomen. “You gonna run?” You were levering to your feet, shaking your head while still matching each step of his toward you with a backward one of your own. 

“No.”

It was Daryl’s turn to shake his head. “Wrong answer.”

Now, there you were. Exhausted, aching, afraid. But were you afraid of Daryl? Of what Daryl could do? It was a thought that seemed misplaced, wrong. Even as he snarled just in front of you, his large hands squeezing your neck. Deep down, you understood he was protecting you. 

Perhaps even losing a piece of himself to do it. 

His palm caught the other side of your face. “M’fuckin’ talkin’ to you!” He squeezed harder, until you were finding it hard to breathe. 

“Daryl—” You rasped, cut off when he shook you again. You’d forgotten everything he’d taught you, the knowledge smothered under a barrier you couldn’t seem to get around. This was Daryl. 

“He ain’t here! Who. Am. I?!” The hand that slapped you grabbed your chin roughly and pushed back your head, your hair catching and pulling on the rough grooves in the cement. “Maybe this’ll jog your mem’ry.” His rough fingers released your face. You whined and yanked against his arm, freezing at the sound of a belt buckle. 

The memories came back so forcefully, you thought you felt the back of your head connect with the wall. 

“She fucking killed my brother! We don’t need her. Say the word and I’ll slit her throat right here.”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Your lips look so pretty on my cock.”

“I want my money back! She cried the whole time!”

“Next time, you’ll get more than a few cuts on your cunt.”

“Mmm, fuck. I’m gonna pound that tight little pussy. Then I’ll fuck your ass until you bleed.”

“You’re worthless.”

“Ugly bitch!”

“Whore!”

WorthlessbitchfuckingwhoregarbageworthlessworthlessWORTHLESS!

“I am… not… WORTHLESS!” 

Todd’s eyes widened at your sudden declaration. You raised your left arm straight, angling your body to the right to bring it down hard on the man’s wrists. He grunted, his hold loosening. You took advantage of his distraction, your left elbow connecting with his jaw one, two, three times. 

“I have FRIENDS.”

Jazz staggered backward, but you didn’t let him recover. Your fingers twisted into his hair for a solid grip, your knee coming up as you pushed his head down and connected with a splatter of blood on your jeans. 

“I have A HOME!”

The man that tore you so badly and left you to bleed fell backward onto his ass, stunned but no time to gather himself before you swept your leg up with a solid kick to his temple with the side of your boot. 

“And you don’t get to have any part of me EVER AGAIN!”

“Y/N, STOP!”

Carol’s voice cut through your rage, freezing it and then shattering it. You blinked, hard and fast. You were at the prison, footsteps running toward you. Daryl was sprawled out on his ass at your feet, his face a disaster of blood and swelling but the damn fool was smirking at you. 

“Atta girl.”

You hugged Daryl for five straight minutes before Hershel patched the two of you up. 

You couldn’t tell if the old man was disappointed, upset, or impressed, his expression shifting so quickly with each wound he treated. Nothing was life threatening but man, did some of it smart.  Once alone, you wasted no time in crawling onto the archer’s lap with your arms around his stomach. 

“Please tell me I never have to do that again.” You mumbled against his shoulder. 

“Not to me at least.” One arm was wrapped loosely around you, not squeezing but his fingers flexed over your ribs, the movement calming you. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute, it was you and then—”

“Ya saw them. I know. Don’t apologize.” 

You pulled back to stare at him incredulously. “You know?”

“Mhm.” He was regarding you with an unreadable expression, as if hiding behind a mask. “You weren’t gonna try if ya kept seein’ me, even with the bullshit I was spittin’ at’cha.” His left eye was already black, swollen with the sclera tinted red. His lip was split in two places, there was a laceration across the bridge of his nose that sat on top of another bruise. He was a wreck. You assumed you weren’t much better. One side of your face throbbed and your neck felt tender. “Needed ya to go back there. Didn’t want you to.”

You shuddered, your head dropping to rest your temple against his shoulder. Daryl’s heart was racing and only then did you notice that he was trembling. “Daryl?”

“M’sorry, Y/N. Went too far.” With his head now bowed, the fringe of dark hair obscured your view of his eyes. 

“I’m not upset with you.” Your fingertips toyed with a button on his shirt, twisting it back and forth. “And I’m not afraid of you.” He didn’t reply but there was the slightest tilt of his head, his interest piqued. “You made me face them. After all this time here, hiding and just…trying to forget. I’m not upset and for once, I’m not scared.”

“S’ good.” 

Releasing the button, you wrapped your arm around his midsection and squeezed. “It’s more than good, Daryl.” You looked up from beneath your lashes to find him gazing back at you. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been trapped. In that club, inside that cage. But now,” you smiled at him. “I feel free, I guess.” You were pinned beneath the look he was giving you, the raw emotion in those cerulean eyes. “Thank you.”

Finally, he nodded and gently removed you from his lap, taking more care than usual. “M’ still sorry.” Daryl reached toward the bruised side of your face only to hesitate before retracting his hand completely and turning on a heel to leave the cell. 

He continued swiftly past Carol without as much as a glance, her hand barely brushing his bicep. The other woman paused briefly to watch him go and then continued forward. “Not as bad as I thought, honestly.” You barely acknowledged her, focused intently on the doorway. “He’ll be okay, Y/N. Give him some time.”

You didn’t chase after him. You wanted to but you heeded Carol’s advice. Showered and changed, you settled onto the mattress and waited. It was well into the night now, the anxiety of not knowing where he had gone gnawing away at some place beneath your ribs. 

Daryl had helped you face your demons. You were by no means healed but you no longer felt powerless underneath the weight of the memories. They’d always be there, in the back of your mind. Sometimes you’d still succumb to their taunting but you knew now that you’d find your way back. 

You sat up when the door to the outside screeched open, followed by boots heavily dragging over the stone floor. You couldn’t see who had entered, but when the footfalls fell onto the metal steps, you relaxed. 

Daryl was back. 

He pulled off his vest the moment he was at the top, tossing it aside to crawl onto his side of the mattress, fully clothed and without a word. He had strategically avoided your gaze, his back facing you now. You wondered if touching him was a bad idea. He never seemed to mind any other time. But this wasn’t any other time. 

You knew by the slump in his shoulders as the two of you had headed to the Doc earlier that he was carrying a weight you didn’t know about or understand. While he encouraged you to talk about the things that hurt or scared you, he was essentially taking more than half of your burdens unto himself. When the weight became too much, Daryl had two coping mechanisms: isolation or anger. 

So as you watched him now, quiet and still, you wondered if he’d share his burden with you. You’d gladly bear it if it meant the archer could have some peace. You were growing stronger, reaching your most important milestone yet with his help. 

You reached for him but withdrew, recalling how you once felt. You never wanted him to feel that way. Ever. “Daryl?” He didn’t answer but his back tensed, shoulders drawing up toward his ears. “Daryl, can I touch you?” The moment that passed felt like forever, the silence of the prison formidable. 

“Yeah.” Though the tension remained, his voice was even but not cold. 

You kept your silence, lying down behind him with your body molding against his own. The embrace was gentle, your arm draped over his side to rest your hand unmoving on his stomach. You waited until he began to relax, albeit slowly, to nuzzle your uninjured cheek against the back of his neck. 

“Thank you for believing in me.” 

The minutes ticked on, your eyes growing heavy and mind drifting into the beginnings of sleep. Daryl moved but only slightly, not enough for you to pull away. When the warmth of his hand covered your own, your eyes calmly opened while your mouth curved into a smile. 

“Thanks for trustin’ me.”

“We deserve this.” You wiggled happily on the mattress, popping another of your favorite berries into your mouth while Daryl snorted from where he still laid on the pillow. The two of you looked like next day cage fighters, bruised and sore. Carol had brought breakfast and demanded you both took the day off. She was already fixing the archer with a glare before his mouth even opened in protest. 

If she had any thoughts about finding you still spooning him with your fingers intertwined, she kept them to herself. 

“Don’t feel right, layin’ on my ass while ev’ryone else works.”

“Just enjoy it, okay?” You offered him a berry. Your breath caught in your throat when he kept his arms folded behind his head and simply opened his mouth. There was a not-so-unpleasant tightening in your stomach but you were careful to keep your fingers distant from his lips when dropping the fruit. 

“Whatever. Nothin’ even hurts.” The archer griped while still chewing. Eating another berry of your own, you nonchalantly poked his bruised cheekbone, satisfied with his indignant ow!

“Thought nothing hurt?” You grinned over your spoonful of oats, inwardly wincing when cut next to your nose pulled. 

“You’re a menace.” He quipped, nudging your arm with his elbow. 

“It’d be fair to say that you made me this way.”  You tossed a berry at his face, giggling when he scrunched up the right side to keep it out of his eye. 

“S’ offensive.” 

“You’re offensive.” 

His fingers pinched your ribs, inciting a yelped giggled from your throat while you struggled to keep your bowl of oats from splattering onto the mattress. 

“Oh, an’ you’re ticklish.” He stated, straight-faced with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Oh no. Don’t even think about it.” You scooched over, nearly falling off the mattress as he sat up, stoicism in every inch of his expression. “I mean it, Daryl.”

“M’sure ya do.” 

You sat the bowl down carefully, easing your foot to the floor. “I’m injured.”

“Uh huh.”

And then you were gone, barefoot and in your pajamas. Daryl was hot on your heels, his boots slapping the pavement after you exited into the yard. Damn! You’d forgotten he’d gone to bed fully clothed. 

“Hey!” Carol shouted as you bolted past. “You two are supposed to be resting!” There was laughter in her scolding, undoubtedly thrilled to see the archer engaging in playful enjoyment. Even you were bewildered, but happily so. 

You had brought this part of him to the surface, you’d like to think. He was smirking. He was relaxing. He was…fuck, he was gaining on you. 

“Daryl, no!” You shouted just as his arms encircled your waist, lifting you off the ground. You caught a glimpse of each smiling face as he spun with you, but you never stopped squirming. “Put me down!”

“Nah.” He stilled and just held you there, your feet just above the ground. You were pulling and working at his hands, trying aimlessly to pry his fingers open.

“Daryl, put me—” 

The sound of a car door startled you, but only slightly, your bright smile remaining until you looked at the gate. 

And your blood ran cold. 

“Daryl.” 

The archer lowered you to your feet, leaning around to watch your expression freeze in abject terror. You could see his head turning from the corner of your eye, a growl reverberating in his chest as he pushed you behind him,

Placing himself between you and Big Jazz. 

[xviiperr]

Yandere Clone Commandos!!

General analysis and headcanons. Inspiration from: Republic Commandos, Star Wars film franchise and comics.

Is this requested? No, no it's not. :') I'm taking a short break from writing for yandere Sonic fics to write some self-indulgence, which is why the whole thing here is so long 😭

Also! I wanted an excuse to introduce my yandere Republic Commando squad, consisting of: Trickshot, Shaft, ZZ and Heyday. Headcanons, suggestions, ideas, (anything really) is welcome for these obsessive boys!

Thank you so much to @yanknowalready for the book suggestion, I started reading the first one and I absolutely love it! I'm so interested to see what happens to Etain and Darman next, (they have such good chemistry!!) and I can't wait to read more of the series as I go on. Never thought I'd get so invested but my lack of activity is a testament to how invested I am into this book 😂

Anyhoo, I suppose I should share my thoughts about the commandos being yandere, based on what I've read in the book, what I've watched and what I know so far about the commandos.

Romantic/platonic. More romantic leaning.

TW: Frank talk of death, killing and typical yandere shenanigans. Shenanigans include: stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness, murder, forced affection (have to squint a lil) and delusions. This writing also has some suggestiveness at the bottom, for my yandere Republic Commando OC, you might have to squint at two of his quotes for that.

Analysis:

Republic Commandos from the book are treated like cattle for the most part. Well, cattle that act like dogs. Give them an order and they usually obey. Usually. They are also meant to be independent thinkers, working in squads of four. Republic Commandos are mainly used for infiltration, performing covert operations, as well as sabotage, demolition and assassination being the standard expectation.

They are kept in isolation, separate from their regular brothers and designated captains. This is so they can remain on task and focus on their rigorous training. As said before, they work in squads of four, so they do not get much time to socialize. While reading the first few interactions the commando characters had in the book with their Jedi superiors, I have noticed the amount of genuine intrigue and interest in picking apart who these lightsaber users of the Force are.

It's no surprise that a Republic Commando would feel a strong pull to learn more about who he works for. A life of loneliness, apart from your squad, tempts the human mind to want to seek more. He doesn't need to know why his Jedi General is, as they are mainly given missions to complete and an explanation is usually added to the equation, he wants to know whom. Identity. Republic Commandos do want to have some sort of connection with their Jedi, leaning more towards professionals. They are told stories of just how powerful Jedi are and look up to them.

In some cases, like the Republic Commando series, (I've delved into some spoilers because I really like Darman and Etain) this pressure can turn romantic.

The Republic Commandos trained so hard on Kamino just to get to this point, surviving multiple exercises off world—most commandos don't make it back—just so they can see a Jedi for one chance. Commandos are usually trained by hired mercenaries, just like their brothers but, often under more deadly circumstances. Commandos who don't have a firing and killshot above 95% are marked for dead by the Kaminoins, including their whole original squad batch, executed in favor of a better batch. The Republic Commandos don't all get the luck in the world, often dying before meeting the Jedi. Which is why I'd think they'd be real desperate sons of a gun. So, it's an honor to serve with one, to protect a Jedi.

Republic Commandos are well-disciplined to a fault. With their lives in constant threat, they want to make sure they survive long enough until they slow down and die on the battlefield, rather than die to their rapid aging, because they want to see as much as they can before it's their time to pass. Republic Commandos become observant, skilled, patient and most importantly, intelligent in their training and exercises. Combining all of these skills together with their strength, Commandos are a four team force to be reckoned with. Even when on their own, a Republic Commando is a dangerous foe to enemies.

Republic Commandos are rugged from their training, as said before, regularly facing death. Other clones look up to these individuals, just as they do their Jedi. The Republic Commandos are a symbol of pure, unadulterated power. No average clone nor Arc trooper picks a fight with a Commando because of this. In addition to being strict and tacticionary killing machines, Republic Commandos are known to have a bit of a temper when their patience is tested. Taunt them and you walk away with an ugly assortment of bruises, deece pointed at your head moments before, (threatening to fry your brain with a lazer) and perhaps a cut or two. You're lucky to walk away unscathed.

The reason why I believe that Commandos have a bit of a temper is because, when reading Hard Contact, in the first few pages of the book: one man questions why the commando waits so long, only to be threatened with concealed viroblade hidden within the commando's wrist guard, right under his chin and dangerously close to his throat and general lifeline. And even further down the line, one commando named Niner, is physically and mentally fighting with himself to not insult the Jedi padawan, Etain out loud. She tested his patience plenty of times and he has gotten mad at her, even though he never verbally expressed it as much.

Republic Commandos are also fiercely protective. If they can help it, they do not leave their brothers and general people in charge, behind. They are loyal and most thoughtful men, not cattle, men. Even if they don't believe they are men, they are constantly reminded by their gentle natured Jedi who now have to direct a war by using violence, the opposite of what an actual peace keeper would do. If push came to shove, just like any clone, a Republic Commando would gladly lay down his life as a final sacrifice. They care for their loved ones. And try as they might to not form personal connections, they still do and it heavily affects them.

So, bringing yandere into the forefront, I'd say that once a Republic Commando gets hooked on their Jedi/person, there's no going back. Their connection would be hard to break, even in death. Their obsession could even kill them and they wouldn't be too upset because, in the end, they were meant to be expendable, only living up to 20 years or so. With such little time that they have, if they can help it, Republic Commandos try to spend as much time as they can with their loved ones. I can see a common theme being that they work together to get to their connection.

Headcanons:

As said before in my "brief" analysis, regular clones don't pick fights with commandos. Which leads me to believe that if a squad of commandos or just a singular one was obsessed with you, you would have a powerful guarding force of smothering clones, scaring off most competition. Not all. The Republic Commandos face many a challenging foe, in the form of daunting tasks and assigned missions. Oftentimes, their enemy is much more powerful than they are. However, that won't stop them from trying to "protect" you. Regardless if it's just one commando obsessed, I like to imagine that the whole squad would work and support their brother.

A drawback, (to them and probably not to you, depending on your situation) is that they are in a constant threat of being killed on deployment, as well as training sessions on Kamino so often that they cannot spend as much time as they want with you. If given the chance, the Republic Commandos would stop at nothing just to be with you, securely watch over your hobbies and interests and memorize everything that you do. Unfortunately for these lovesick boys, they don't get in contact with their darling because the commandos are separated from the regs and the real world to fortify their integrity. So, the time they spend with you is precious.

Republic Commandos are meticulous with keeping their gear clean, compact, safe and functional. They pay very close attention and if there are any outliers, the commandos do what they can to perfect or improve the situation. I believe that the commandos would be obsessive, possessive, definitely stalkers and very desperate for attention and love once you give it to them. It's unwise to form a connection. They do NOT let go. Especially if you are Jedi. Maybe you met your forever squad as a padawan in training, leading the squad as commander. Or maybe a civvi who helped out one too many times to be forgotten. If you were a Jedi, the commandos would look up to you, supporting your decisions and challenging your wit all for the effort of making a smart plan.

They are loyal to the end, ready to lay down their lives. The Jedi are like a deity to these troubled men, cursed with accelerated growth, giving them so little time to live. However, not all seek that life of religion as a Jedi or are gifted with the ability. Let's say you're what they call a "civvi," a civilian for clarification. It's gonna be damn near impossible to see you again then. A commando, (or a group of commandos) would have to do a grand old break the rules policy just so they can get to you. The commandos would stand as close as they physically can, without directly violating your personal space but, still staying in close contact. They will likely ask to hold your hand, or to be kissed by you because, well, they don't know if they're going to die the next day. Just give it to them once, please? Very repetitive in asking you because they're that touch starved.

In addition to their want for physical touch, (or some commandos who don't like physical touch OR the ones who sorta listen to you when you say you don't want to hold their hand or any of that) when in close proximity to the commandos, rarely do their eyes ever leave you. You're just too important to them and so, you have to stay in their eyesight to ensure your safety. For the commandos that are denied physical affection and the privilege of watching you up close, they resort to watching from afar, hiding where you cannot see them, staring at you through their DC-17's scope. If you don't want to be watched all the time...why don't you try asking to wear their helmets? I believe the commandos would be absolutely ecstatic that you asked to wear their calling card. It would be very difficult to get them to shut up after that.

Due to the nature of the Clone Wars, even if the commandos wanted to, they cannot take you back to their barracks or anywhere locked up. The best that a commando or group of commandos can do is take a photo of you to display on their holocron each time before they go on a covert mission. They might be dead the next time they try to come home, leaving you to be stuck in an uncomfortable situation where another squad might try to take you in as their darling or the worse, being stuck in a building deep on an unknown planet, with no means of escape. For some commandos, you dying isolated rather than in their living arms is a better option of seeing you again in the after life.

Speaking of death, not all commandos die on deployment. Many are left behind. In that case, if the commando is desperate enough and willing, he will desert the Grand Army of the Republic, (commonly referred to as the GAR) and devise a plan to take you with him. If his brothers are alive, you bet that the commando would find a way to convince his brothers to join him, leave behind that awful life they had known before in favor of a bright new future with you in it. They wouldn't have to wear such heavy gear anymore, be in constant threat of a battlefield death, (though the rapid aging would steal their chance of a full life) and best of all, you are there to enjoy every single day. Maybe the commandos might go and search Kamino for a cure to try and reverse their rapid aging before they get to you? Sure sounds like an interesting fic!

OCS!

But wait, there's more! I wanted to share with you guys some of my yandere Republic Commando OCS that I came up with in the process of writing this self-indulgence blurb. Still figuring out who will be what but, I can give you their squad name and personal names. Only one guy has actual stuff written about him in the image below.

May I introduce you folks to the Champ Squad, led by RC-1237, known as Trickshot. He works with his brothers Shaft, ZZ and Heyday, being a very successful yet, controversial squad. Wherever they go, there are rarely any survivors. They might like killing a little too much. I still need to draw the other three, as well as give them their RC numbers.

Trickshot

Meet Trickshot, my lovelies! Everything on that paper is gonna be written down from top to bottom so you can make sense of my goofy writing. I said I was only going to write a little bit about a yandere oc. A little.... WELP

Trickshot, RC-1237— The “Boss” of Champ Squad.

• He has a grim sense of humor, being the squad's designated demolitions man. Trickshot's name is deceiving because many expect him to be the sniper, (which he is a very good shot at that) but he is a phenomenal explosion's master.

• Trickshot's serious, keen, cunning and silent for the most part. He has the highest kill count out of his squad, taking genuine pleasure in killing Separatist scum. He especially takes joy in killing anyone he deems getting too close/hurting/potentially hurting his cyar'ika (sweetheart).

• The “Boss” is brutal, straightforward and overall, a hard man to be around. The Champ Squad has its high success rate thanks to Trickshot's harsh methods.

(author's note: next bullet point might change but I wanna know y'all's opinion!!)

• Trickshot's DNA was mixed with another diner, (alongside his bros) giving him sharper features. Unfortunately, he's aggressive.

ARMOUR:

• Bears distinctive purple painted armor. Symbolizes the dark feelings and bad dreams he has, though others assume it must be ego talking.

• You compliment him on it? He wants you to add something to it. Can't paint or any of that? Here, let him take your hand and help you.

• Promise you'd hold his hand? Just once? He might die on his next mission, please. Trickshot loves you.

FUN FACTS:

• Trickshot “accidently” killed a Jedi padawan, (shame the kid got on his nerves). His brothers covered for him, saying the child died to battle droids. Yeah, they (meaning Shaft, ZZ and Heyday) were also fed up with the padawan.

• Claimed the lightsaber fell down the heavy waterfall rapids, (Trickshot lied) keeping the sacred weapon for personal use.

QUOTES:

• “ Look, cyar'ika, (or sweetheart) I ain't itchin' to make you blaze up just yet. ” (He laughs).

• “ Relaaax, I'm not gon' hurt ya. I'm gon' hurt 'em. ” (Guns and bombs ready).

• “ Just 'lax up, will ya? I don't bite! Unless you want or I really wanna. ” (You're sitting on his lap).

And that's everything! Lemme know whatcha guys think! Yes, Trickshot's quotes were suggestive but, I feel like that would blend in with his personality? Idk, maybe it's just my opinion.

Fanart, ideas, suggestions, (anything really lol!?) is appreciated for Trickshot and his brothers in the Champ Squad! Thanks for reading!

[eviltiddyproductions]

atypical family yapping #2

so many thoughts hurtling around in my brain but for now I keep thinking about lost time with loved ones and how we can take it for granted or circumstances can keep us away.

I actually started to think about this because since it’s been one day since I finished watching the show and we all know what happens, I remembered Dahae going missing and pretending to be dead (to try and stop Gwiju from going in the past and helping her in the fire). It seemed like she was at least gone for a week and since I have the gift of hindsight I kept thinking that’s a week you could’ve loved each other more.

Back then I still thought we had a chance and we’d look back to that episode like we do in most shows as a small hiccup they see after spending years together. Since everything ended so fast I sort of grieved that little time too and then it hit me 😭,

before Dahae is introduced into the Bok family (albeit as a scammer) they live in such a fractured state. they’re together but they’re just existing around each other. and it seems like they stayed in that state for a decade 💀🙏

like I’m out here complaining about maybe a week or so that our couple didn’t stay together or that they should’ve gotten more time together and there’s Ina (and the entire family but they’re adults) who lost on such important and precious time with her father in her life. his depression (something I understood deeply) kept him from connecting with her and they lost on such important time together. she basically had to grow up alone. apart from a sympathetic grandfather there wasn’t really anyone looking out for her.

then comes my scammer sister queenie dahae

as she’s introduced, slowly they start spending time together. it starts with the scammer sauna family slowly picking up roles and helping the Bok family (selfishly but nevertheless) whether it’s through sleeping and making them eat meals to making them exercise.

to the point where Ina in a decade, opens up about her powers and doesn’t even mind having a scammer around. lil bean is so brave that she doesn’t mind going to the sauna and looking the money lender mom right in her eyes 😭 she’s found someone to lean on.

so does her dad. as he continues being around dahae, he’s put into new situations and slowly as their relationship progresses he finds a way back to life. he finds a way back to his daughter.

they begin making up for lost time.

which is why everything seems extra cruel and leaves me mourning the time they all could’ve had together.

the way the scenes were shot in episode 10 when dahae is leaving them with happy memories, you can’t really savour them in the episode because they’re tinged with the pain of her not being there afterwards.

they got me so good in episode 11 next where they kept promising us a tomorrow and I completely bought it. and then it all comes crashing.

kinda tearing up writing about it because him rushing around in that episode with Ina, buying her that cotton candy, running around with her in that warm light, we truly were bound by time as it was slipping away.

moments and memories like these always make me so greedy, hence I find myself writing this when I should probably begin working 😭

i wanted more for all of them. Gwiju’s moments from episode 10-12 are so hopeful and happy and the way he keeps telling everyone that he’ll fight for it, he’ll stay here, there will be a tomorrow. just for it to not be, my heart 😭

wish they got to make up for more of the time lost. ahhhh they got me good. crying at the club at 10 am vibes.

spend time with the people you love besties. if you can, hug them and kiss them and just linger around because that truly makes life. if you don’t have someone like that I’m personally sending you a hug and kiss, extend your forehead 🫂💋

this is already my third atypical family post and I have so many things to talk about. trust I’ll just keep blabbering for a week.

[chubbening]

h-hey, I saw you are a trans female feedee and wanted to know... what's that like? With every passing week i'm more sure i'm trans and I'd love to gain some weight when i'm on hrt. So talking to someone who went through that would really help!

Hi there :)

So I am going to answer your question, but I always feel the need to preempt this things with some important points. Mainly, I can only speak on my personal experience as a feedee/gainer on feminizing HRT. If this is a topic you really want to dig into, I encourage you to get some different perspectives--maybe from some of the other gorgeous trans gals I'm always reblogging! My experience is not theirs, and it will not be yours. Everyone's path and results will vary, with the gaining, with the hormones, with the self-love.

All that said, this transformative experience has been incredible. I had wanted to gain weight lots of times over the years, both before and after I knew I was trans, before and after coming out, and before and after starting HRT. I kept holding back though because I didn't think I'd actually look good with more weight--because I hated my body as it was, so I wasn't able to gain from a place of self-love, which I think is so important. I think I was also restricting my eating as a way to exercise control over a body that had been shaped mainly by things outside of my control. Like, if I couldn't look like what I found attractive, I'd at least look conventionally attractive to other people.

HRT is the best health decision I've made in my life, and what I love most about it isn't even how it's changing my body (stick with me, we'll get there). My results are not universal, but within 24 hours of starting estradiol and spironolactone, I felt better. I felt more awake and in-tune with everything around me, it made my intrusive thoughts and bad days more manageable, it made the world a brighter place for me. It got rid of urges and desires I think would be too heavy for me to get into here, but you can probably guess.

I found that I could love myself, could love my body, which made me finally take the steps I wanted to change it. The hormones do their own work, of course, and I've been lucky on many fronts with that. My tits ain't stopping, my ass (which was already pretty good "for a guy") isn't either. The weight is going mostly where I like it, and the skin softening has helped with that too.

And here's the amazing thing, and why I think the self-love is so important out the gate. I'm not getting my "ideal" body. This isn't the body I used to fantasize about having. My hips are decent, but will probably never be where I want them relative to the rest of me.

But that's okay. It's okay! Before HRT, I didn't think I could accept anything less than total control sculpting my ideal body. Now, I get excited by every little change.

Like my face. I had the stereotypical face dysphoria thing where it just felt off looking at myself in the mirror. Uncanny, like that wasn't me, like it was just the mask of a suit the real me was wearing 24/7. The HRT changed that, probably a combination of fixing (some of) my brain chemistry and the physical changes to my face. Now, with gaining weight, my face is still changing, rounding out, but it still feels like me. It still looks like me.

Okay, after taking a lil break from writing this, I realize I could go on and on even more. (we didn't even get into how all this has healed my relationship to food!) If you have more specific questions, feel free to drop em. (And ask other trans femmes who are open to that!)

And if this is the way you decide to go, allow me to welcome you to the feeder-guy-to-feedee-girl pipeline. You'll have lots of company ;)

Always remember, make your decisions out of love for yourself, all bodies are beautiful, if you want to be trans you can just be trans.

<3

[missmiseryguts]

GUESS WHO KINDA FINISHED THE CONDUCTOR IDEAS

It's gonna be mostly writing + sketches cause I'm struggling a lil bit on drawing Conductor but MAIN DESIGN W/O COLOR AND A GOOFY DOODLE FINISHED!

I saw a dragon + MU in a prince-like outfit for Act 2 and my brain immediately went "Fantasy??? Fairytales perhaps??" I imagine he was inspired by his grandkids and fairytales he heard growing up as a child! Unfortunately, as he kept going, he became more focused on one-upping Grooves and winning the Annual Bird Movie Awards, and the vibes of his movies changed for the worse unfortunately. :(

He still has an explosive temper, but tries to manage it or at least tone it down in front of the cameras. Unfortunately, if you choose him as the winner, he pulls the same stunt Grooves did in the original. I imagine he even accuses you of rigging the previous Bird Awards via time travel (even though it's your first time there... Idk he's prolly delirious by this point lol)

Also imagine Bow Kid or Hood Kid telling the winning bird about the time travel aspect to the Time Pieces?? Or one of them notifying the losing bird that Hat Kids is in danger?? I'm pretty sure it was hinted that M.U had an effect in the Dead Bird boss fight, but IDK if it's canon or I just remembered a hc.

Also does a bomb still get strapped to Swap!MU in the second phase or is it something else?

(P.S: Lemme know if I'm overstepping a boundary!! I was reading this over and I'm scared that it reads like telling you about the characters in your own AU lol)

HELP POOR MU LOOKS SO SCAREEDDD.. Also I'm so loving this idea what... Conductor making movies and plays based on his grandkids ideas is so cute and the way he LOSES SIGHT OF HIS ORIGINAL VISON??? I saw a headcanon post one time about something like this... I LOVE THAT SO MUCH.

Him keeping his temper would be pretty funny.. especially if he tried to hide it. Grooves is more passive aggressive and cold, I want him to take on some of og conductors traits?? Like his recklessness and apathy towards his workers.. Conductor I can see being very short tempered, but he just does breathing exercises to not yell at anyone HELP. Like MU makes a mistake and he just starts counting to ten before telling her that shes doing great LMAOO

And I wanted Hood and Bow to have a role in this chapter too! In the finale they might be the reason the winning director knows about the timepiece power, but not because they told him.. maybe because they try to steal it, fumble a little, it rewinds time after being dropped, and then the director who saw it happen goes crazy?? Bow realizes they've fucked up, and drags Hood out of there before they die HAHAHAH or something.. in the other acts I was thinking maybe they're in the 'O Romeo O Romeo!' act and they are literally forced to be the villain.. in my og concept I was gonna have Hood forced to act as the damsel in distress because Conductor caught her sneaking around, but then ashfluffys gave me the FUNNIEST IDEA EVER to make the damsel an owl so that idea changed, so she and Bow might play as a villain in that act? I'm rambling now BUT for the DJ grooves levels I was thinking they're in space rush? The act where the spaceship is crashing towards earth! I can see them maybe getting stuck on there trying to find a timepiece and trying to race Mu to the end, sabotaging her, etc, or all that..

ALSO I FUCKING FORGOT ABIUT THE BOMB???? YES HELP OH MY FUCK HAHAHAH.. and for the stage in the fight where the parade is meant to follow you, idk, maybe- the fucking dragon comes back and tries to set you on fire HELP

I really want to work on Grooves' levels now ,,, I've worked on Conductors a lot, and I do have clear visions for Grooves' levels, I just gotta figure him out... Design wise and stuff. I don't normally draw the less humanoid characters, not my forte, but here's a crack at Conductor! I drew your design for him and tried to make up another one!

Mus guitar actually turns INTO a sword, a rapier! The prince costume does that.. I was thinking of a custom "royal medallion" to cue the costume change or something.

You know the whole "losing his creative vision" could actually be a damn good storybook. I don't know what the title would be, but it'd probably be his grandkids telling him a story, him remembering the ones he made as a kid, then he got to writing and producing a small local play for his grandkids and the other kids where he lived, it got the attention of big studios, he got hired at Dead Bird Studio as a director, ran into Grooves and his whole creative vision went down from there... OUUGHSGKHDFKHSHF

Anyways THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING YOUR IDEAS??!!! You guys have no clue how much it means to me. I love hearing all your ideas for my au and working on it as a collaboration with y'all is honestly so much fun.. it rekindles my passion every single time. I don't think giving me ideas will EVER 'cross a boundary', I love hearing all of your concepts !!! I'll try super hard to incorporate all the ones I think fit, and to be honest, all y'alls ideas not only fit my vision but expand upon it and help me think of all the small details I never would have noticed beforehand... THANK YOU SO MUCH. IM INDEBTED TO EVERY SINGLE ONE IF YOU GUYS FOR HELPING ME MAKE THESE CONCEPTS MWWWWWAH 🙏 THIS AU WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT

[parksprout]

Sprout Journal 11/8/24

Hey guys! Probably a smaller journal than usual today, but I feel like I end up saying that (or at least thinking it, idk if I actually mention it) quite a bit while writing these and then I always end up writing more than I expected. Today was a really straight forward day! I didn't do a whole heck of a lot, and not a bunch exciting happened which... is a bit of a breath of fresh air to be fully honest. This might be the first truly mundane day I've had since my breakup, I think I'm basically at the point of emotional regularity again. That doesn't mean that like all of the sudden there's no pain in my life, quite the opposite actually, rather it means that I have looked at my pain and I have decided how best to address it! I'm working realllyyyy hard on myself at the moment, and I think that's the best way to deal with things! School was a blur today. None of my classes were normal. My Spanish class was really tense and we didn't actually cover much material - we were much more focused on talking about the election. As much as I hate taking the actual course due to the weird online textbook and the high volume of work, my Spanish professor himself is a really genuine man and a good teacher. He cancelled class on Wednesday, and today he sat down with us and talked about the election results. He's obviously unhappy, and he expressed a lot of disappointment towards other voters similar to him. He said that a lot of his cousins are men who immigrated to the United States but now want to close the door behind them, which he personally doesn't understand. We ended class early today, so afterwards I actually stuck around to talk to him for a little. I didn't want to talk politics but it's obvious that he's hurting a lot so... I talked about music with him!

He's aspiring to find the time to learn bass just like I am, but he actually has such a fortunate head start on me haha. His cousin is the current bassist for Dance Gavin Dance!! He actually told me that like a week ago or something, but it was day two of my breakup and oh my god I was not ready to talk about it then - I almost broke no-contact with my partner Bnuuy IMMEDIATELY upon hearing that information. Anyways he was grateful for that After Spanish, creative writing class was fine! We talked about writing preferences; tenses and perspectives specifically. I also talked with one of my classmates about photography! I shared that I am looking for the right shots to take right now to send to The Bnuuy (ominous music plays in the distance) and how difficult it is to make the decision to capture a moment when your film is limited! It's an exercise in restraint, honestly. The rest of the class went fine! Anthropology got cancelled, so I went to the library and got comfy while finishing my final preparations for my Archaeology presentation! Truth be told I was surprisingly nervous. I wrote most of the presentation when like ... I was literally a different person. That sounds strange to say, but it's true - my brain chemistry has changed in the past two weeks since I made those slides, it was like reading any work by a stranger. But I managed to present it just fine, albeit a bit zoned out through my own content. Gosh what else I went to the gym at school again tonight! It was suppeerrrr exhausting but I think I'm hitting a real flow of things now. I did my longest run so far: 30 minutes straight, the only times I even slowed down was to skip ads on the Legend of Zelda 2 Game Grumps playthrough I was watching. After that I made my way through most of the weight machines! This one girl kept giving me a super aggressive stink eye though :( I really don't know what I did to upset her? It was a lil disheartening, especially considering I already get super anxious working out in public. But yeah! Now I technically have a bunch of homework to be doing, but absolutely NO energy to do it. I think instead I'll take care of it while I'm at work tomorrow and just suffer the consequences of some late penalties. Whatever, I'm a good student I promise That's all for tonight! Nothing too exciting, just my life in academia. I love you all! <3 have a good night tumblr

[i-am-hoo-iyam]

I really miss @mega-puanni and wish I could tell them I know I fucked up in a gif of frustration and I am very sorry and I feel really bad. But for now all I can do is write more funny skeleton stories about sea shanty singing skeletal systems.

One fine summer night when the moon was lighting up the sky and the air was still warm and somehow there were a few bugs buzzing in the ship even though it was in the middle of the sea, stretch asked everyone at dinner if they wanted to have a little fun on deck and sing and dance and drink and be merry. Everyone thought it was a great idea.

Bear brought some snacks up on deck and blue put some strings of lanterns up at waist height. “Hey shorty! Gimmie those lights!” Cash took the lights and hung them way high so they lit up the deck. “But if I’m too short to hang lights what can I do?” “Bring some deck chairs out?” “Ok!” Blue came back with five deck chairs held over his head and red lounging on one of them. “Hey he asked me to lay here! He says it’s good exercise”. “Thanks Ted! You can get down now!” Sans gave blue a funny look. “Why don’t you stick to cannons ok?” “Why?” “Cuz you looked like you were about to send him into the sea with how much you swung around!” “Oh.”

Stretch went to the front of the deck. “Ok anyone have any song suggestions?” Navy got exited. “ICEES MERRY SEA SHANTY FOR A MERRY GOOD TIME!” Blue looked at navy. “Ok I know I can be childish sometimes but that’s where I draw the line. Iced is for lil kids who fry and poopy in their diapers and eat lollipops.” “Yeah but you read fluffy bunny!” “WHAT NO I DONT WHO TOLD YOU THAT?” “Yourself. There isn’t a spare room and I’m scared of the dark so I share a room with you. And you read fluffy bunny every night”. “Nooooooooooo it’s uh uh it’s uh uh fiiiiiiiiine BUT IM NOT A BABY”. Red snickered. “Baby”. “NO IM NOT HES THE BABY!” Blue pointed to navy. “I won’t deny it”. Baby shrugged.

“Ok any serious suggestions?” Red thought. “Drunken sailor?” “Ok thsts a nice song!” Stretch started singing. “What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor”. Ht crew danced and enjoyed the music. Cinimon got enthusiastic with papyrus and they started really dancing and twirling around. Papyrus flung cinimon overboard and kept dancing unaware. Bear blew the signal for man over board on the alarm horn and dove in to get him. He came back a minute later and nobody had drowned. “Ok guys what’s the big deal?” Red looked at the crew. Papyrus looked sorry. “I-I-I I diddnt mean to… we were just having some fun dancing around and three i twirled him and then he was overboard”. Cinimon didn’t look that bothered. “It’s ok! Stretch has a lovely voice! Let’s just dance in the middle of the deck ok?”

Stretch started up on the song again. He sang with passion. He finally turned back into the real world when the ship suddenly spun 180 as fast as razz could steer it. “Guys?” Wveryone was on one end watching a seagul who had flown off with sans hat. The one papyrus had given him with the bandana thet meant a lot to him. Sans was in tears and reaching out futilely. Cinimon ten below deck and came back with the net gun. He fired and the net came down on the bird, who fell struggling. The crew reeled the net in and got the hat back. Sans shoved it on his head and went to his room. Blue carefully took the bird out of the net and smoothed it’s feathers and then let it fly away. The bird decided never to steal from that ship again.

Stretch went to check on sans. “Hey buddy. Are you ok? That was a bad scare”. “NO MY HAT ALMOST WENT AWAY FOREVER!” “We would’ve gotten it back without the net though. Remember that one time your hat got carried to kingdom come by the wind? You refused to leave your room and then a month later we found it in that thrift store where the guy said he was cleaning up the beach and found a hat and decided not to throw it away! And that other time it got eaten by the whale and then another ship gone out whaling found it inside the whales mouth! It’s like the hat is connected to your soul”.

“Snf your right heh. I’ve never lost it once. It always comes back. It means so much to me cuz papyrus said if anything ever happened to him I would still have the hat to remember him by. Cuz he said it’s easy to loose a man to the sea and he didn’t want me to be all alone without him.” “You ready to go back for another round of singing? I was gonna sing tthe Wellerman next!” “Ok! Tonight seems like it was made for partying!”

[limetameta]

At the Hughes household. Elicia is 2 years old. It's her birthday. The adults get to talking after Gracia puts the little menace down for her nap.

Maes: Sooo. Which one of you is next? Roy Boy, when's little Roy Jr coming into the world?

Riza, snorting: Who's to say that Colonel Mustang, serial womaniser, hasn't already made a series of children we simply don't know about?

Roy, choking on his spit: Ha! Don't be ridiculous, Lieutenant. Besides, Maes, you'll be the first to know if I get a child.

Maes: Which one would you want, boy or girl? You look like you'd really flourish with a boy. :)

Kimblee: How would he flourish? If anything we don't need Mustang to teach his son how to be a womaniser.

Roy: He'd be the best womaniser ever, if you must know.

Riza: What's your womaniser son's name, sir? Casanova Mustang? >:)

Kimblee: I, for one, will not feel safe knowing Casanova Mustang is out there, prowling the streets. If he's, also, taken after his father in his talent of converting all the ladies he's been with into lesbians? My chances of finding someone to settle down with are getting lower and lower.

Riza: >:D Olivier's power grows on the other hand.

Roy: For my own sake, I'll ignore everything you just said to me. Me and my hypothetical son will be the best father-son duo. If you think Maes is insufferable with his affectionate self, wait until you see how many photos of Roy Jr there will be! I'll commission a giant family portrait and put it over a fireplace.

Maes: No one thinks I'm insufferable with my love for my family...

Riza and Kimblee, dead silent. Looking away.

Maes: D:

Roy, clearing his throat: Moving on. Lieutenant, if you had a child which one would you want? Boy or girl?

Riza: I don't want children.

Kimblee: Neither do I, but this is just for pretend. Don't you like making things up?

Riza: Okay. Fine. You're right. I want 60 children, then. 30 boys and 30 girls.

Maes: Adopted???

Riza: *dead stare* What do you think?

Maes: I'm terrified to answer.

Riza: :)

Kimblee: Do you mean human children or do you mean dogs?

Riza: Dogs.

Maes: Human children, Riza.

Riza: I tried imagining myself with one and I immediately wandered off towards this 60 dogs scenario.

Kimblee: If I had a child would you be able to visualise me with a daughter better or with a son?

Maes, the only one actually going to entertain this hypothetical: Hmmm, I'm gonna go with daughter. Because I've seen you with Elicia and you wouldn't shy away from playing with dolls and letting her harass you with little hairstyles and painting your nails and -

Kimblee: Maybe I'll have a tomboy, don't just think in this direction. I'm rather open minded. If she wants to have short hair and be like Riza Hawkeye who am I to stand in her way? If anything maybe that's easier for me since I don't even know how to braid hair. There's a reason I only make ponytails.

Maes: Hmmmmmmm. 🤔 I don't know honestly. As long as she did all what was expected of her and didn't get too much in your business, you'd be pretty nice to her. You wouldn't be father of the year, but you'd probably put some effort into her schooling and overall well-being. Maybe you'd take her to the opera constantly and you could bond over that.

Roy, laughing: I'm just imagining Kimblee taking a baby to the opera. It's dead silent, too. Like a super well-behaved baby. But he has that pouch for it and and everything.

Kimblee: I like that my child is well-behaved at least. But no, that's cruel to take a baby to the opera. It's no place for babies.

Riza: I think he was just joking.

Kimblee: I should hope so. Otherwise I really worry for him.

Roy: What about if he has a son? *to Kimblee* Wouldn't you want one to carry on your name and to take hunting or exploding or whatever you like to do. You strike me as the type.

Kimblee: Really, Mustang? I don't suffer such complexes. Daughter or son, either way we're going dynamite fishing and they had better like it. It's a family tradition.

Maes: I can't wait until Elicia grows up a bit so I can teach her knife throwing. :D

Roy: Little Elicia?? You'd do that to the kid???

Kimblee: It's incredibly dangerous to be a woman in Amestris, Mustang. Maes and I are in investigations, you don't want to know the things we've seen. Any self defense is welcome.

Riza Hawkeye: What if your child wants to be an alchemist?

Kimblee, without missing a beat: I'm kicking them out. I'd rather die than suffer through that agony. And if they expect me to teach them alchemy? Oh that's never going to happen. Go find someone else so I don't need to look at you fail and make a mockery of the science. The most obnoxious people are new alchemists. The Armstrongs all have dysfunctional relationships with one another because they're a family of alchemists. It's insane. *a moment* Hm, that's actually a fair point, Riza. If my child doesn't agree fundamentally with my view of alchemy, I don’t think I would be able to let that go. Opinions differ and all, but not in something so important as alchemy. And if they want to be a State Alchemist to be a part of the military and not because of some scientific research but because they have aspirations similar at all to Wannabe Fuhrer here?? I'll murder my child and very happily go to prison for it. *another pause, especially when Kimblee notices how Maes is looking at him with horror* Yes, you know, perhaps I shouldn't have children. But if I did I think I might tolerate a daughter more. A son would think he would have to live up to all of my achievements and would compare us more. A daughter, hopefully, would find her own path.

Maes: If someone tries to date my daughter I'm gonna bury whoever it is.

Roy: She's two. Don't worry about this until she's 15.

Maes: 15?????? I THOUGHT GIRLS STARTED DATING AT 20? D:

Gracia: My first boyfriend was when I was 14.

Maes: DON’T TELL ME THESE THINGS!!! I'M GOING TO HAVE TO START HER ON THE KNIFE THROWING MUCH EARLIER!!!

Kimblee: This is rather sickening in my opinion. Your daughter isn't your property. She should have the freedom to be with whoever she wants and as her parents you shouldn't try to scare this partner away. It all seems so medieval.

Riza: What if your daughter brought home an alchemist?

Kimblee: I didn't know how much I would actively hate being in any relations with an alchemist until this conversation... I'd ultimately have to accept her decision, but would I be happier if she found some banker or a baker or maybe a professional chef with a nice and stable position that's also mentally much more stable? Yes, I would. Also I would welcome a son-in-law who could cook with open arms. There's no greater win in life than coming home and having food already prepared. I don't want the stress of food preparation on my children.

Roy: Alchemists can cook. You just don't want one because you think we're all unstable. And you don't think your daughter would be unstable?

Kimblee: With me as an influence? Definitely. But I hope if she tricks someone mentally sound into marrying her, they'll balance one another out. It worked out with my parents. My father's a phlegmatic personality while my mother couldn't be more choleric if she tried.

Maes: What I'm hearing here is that you think marrying a civilian is your only hope at happiness.

Kimblee: I'm not saying anything of the sort!

Maes: I can read between the lines! :D Now that I know civilians are on the table, I'll definitely find you a lady!

Kimblee: D: Maes, please. You're killing me.

Roy: Oh god imagine if any of our kids brings home an Ishvalan?

Maes, Riza: :( *dismay*

Kimblee: Why these sad faces? I would welcome my Ishvalan son-in-law with open arms if he can cook. Ishvalan cuisine is quite possibly one of the best cuisines in all of Amestris. They're world-renown for their food and their coffee. I can only be so lucky to have someone like that come into my family. Though how smart would that be from the Ishvalan's perspective is a wholly different manner. Nobody could possibly love my child enough to marry into my vicinity, given my turbulent history with Ishval. Though, I would be very polite. And I would never be the one to bring it up. As long as the food was good.

Gracia: Honestly, *all eyes on her* I think all I've learned from listening to you tonight is how much Solf's just hungry.

Kimblee: :/ I mean, I could eat.

Maes, horrified: WHY DON'T YOU JUST SAY SO? WE HAVE SO MUCH LEFTOVER FOOD FROM THE PARTY!

Kimblee: It's rude to ask for food when you come over to someone's place.

Maes: NOT IF I LITERALLY TOLD YOU, YOU COULD D:

*flashback to the very beginning of the party*

Maes: WELCOME, WELCOME! Food's in the fridge, feel free to tell Gracia or me if you're hungry. There's way too much for the two of us to eat.

*flashback end*

Kimblee: Well, I certainly wasn't going to be the first one to ask for food like that. For all I knew that was just something people said to be polite hosts, but didn't really mean.

Riza: *nodding*

Roy: You're not children, you can just

Kimblee and Riza: Mustang/Sir, we're guests. If you want to be rude, you can be rude on your own time.

Maes and Gracia fix them up with some plates.

[cavendishbutterfly]

I posted 302 times in 2022

That's 113 more posts than 2021!

73 posts created (24%)

229 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sorrybutblog

@softlystarstruck

@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm

@corvuscrowned

@moonstruckwytch

I tagged 297 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#drarry - 178 posts

#my writing - 40 posts

#harry potter x draco malfoy - 39 posts

#hpdm - 38 posts

#hp fanfic - 22 posts

#queue - 15 posts

#drarrymicrofic - 12 posts

#inertia - 10 posts

#bday stuff - 8 posts

#asks - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 109 characters

#i’ll be honest windy city was an exercise in how do i live up to fwooshy’s gorgeous writing even a little bit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hi, I’m looking for fics where Harry has to come to terms with his sexuality (internalized homophobia angst is welcome) after realizing he likes Draco with the support of Hermione (and maybe Ron). Know any?

Hi there! It looks like @lettersbyelise and @sitp-recs have posted lovely answers to this here and here.

I'll add an additional sprinkling of my favorite Harry-explores-his-sexuality fics (can't guarantee Hermione's involvement though!):

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft (23k)

This fic scratches all the parts of my brain and is so delightful to read and reread again. Driving lessons, Snitch the dog (the bestest girl), Harry grappling with identifying as bisexual in the midst of some harrowing biphobia, and the beginnings of my personal obsession with Seven Minutes In Heaven in any fic whatsoever.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (23k)

Liv has written such a gorgeous review of this fic that I'll leave here--it's the reason I read this fic and I'm so grateful I did. It starts off with such a strong concept and then follows through perfectly, with secrecy and faint memory and hot smut that truly kept me hooked from the very beginning.

Buds, Blooms, and Beards by @corvuscrowned (27k)

I am a long-term fanboy of crow for many reasons but this is one of them. A fantastic Harry and Ginny friendship, and their plant shop(!!!) which is full of storerooms for one Draco Malfoy to pull Harry into and ah, Help Him Do Some Research. Harry and Ginny explore their sexualities in gorgeous parallel, including how and when they feel ready to come out to themselves and their friends.

I'll also add in a fic of my own!

Bridges by cavendishbutterfly (16k)

This is a fic I wrote to shower lots of love on Budapest as a city, but also to tell the story of a Harry just beginning to test out his bisexuality. It's a fic that's close to my heart, and I wanted to play with the ways that exploring one's sexuality can feel complex and muddy and confusing. Hopefully it succeeds in that :)

107 notes - Posted June 12, 2022

#4

how they save each other

rated M | 50 words | for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “kind”

it's a different kind of love. they fuck in the mornings. soft light through old windows. new sheets. scrambling for purchase as Draco presses into him. they used to be loud. now whispers: there, darling. just like that. why did it take so long after the war to know peace.

193 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#3

For Worse, For Better

A joyous fanniversary to @sitp-recs, a beautiful person to whom I and my fandom experience are indebted. Just over a year ago I’d started to drift away from drarry after reading a few fics, until I discovered Liv’s incredible blog and so many more fics to love and reasons to dig deeper. I wouldn’t have found my way into this community without her, and am so grateful for her kindness and presence here. Liv, I hope this lil story gives you even a fraction of the joy you and your blog have given me over the past year.

Of course, it’s the one eventuality he hasn’t planned for.

“It’s raining,” Draco says, clutching Pansy’s arm and watching the windows streak.

“It sure is,” they say. Their lipstick is sharp and red—any overt warmth from Pansy is rare, but a corner of their mouth tugs upward, not even in a sneer. They tuck a piece of Draco’s hair behind his ear and smooth out his robes.

“It’s a Muggle venue,” Draco says, realising. “No Weather Charms. We can’t even cast an Impervius.”

“No, we certainly can’t.”

“Don’t laugh at me, Pans.” Draco clutches their arm harder. “Oh Merlin, all the guests are going to be wet, they’ll hate me.”

Pansy shakes their head, tugging Draco gently toward the door. “It’s just a bit of rain, Draco.”

The quartet starts playing outside and Draco thinks, Salazar, all those wooden instruments out in the wet, and there’s nothing to do but push open the doors to the outside. Draco sees the aisle first, a thin carpet lined with flowers and splotched with raindrops. A couple guests have thought to bring umbrellas, which unfurl over small pockets of the crowd. The attendees are dressed in a smattering of Wizarding robes and Muggle dress clothes, all dark with water. The rain hammers on the roof behind them, and on the platform at the end of the aisle.

And there, on the platform in the midst of everything, is Harry. His hair clings to the back of his neck, waterlogged and uncharacteristically flat. His glasses are spotted with droplets, and for a moment Draco thinks, Is he cross? He must be cross. But as Pansy guides him down the aisle, he sees Harry’s smile, impossibly wide.

Draco steps up to the small stage.

Harry grins at him. “Look at you,” he says.

“Yes, well,” says Draco haughtily, smoothing out his hair. “Imagine how you look at the moment, you’ve been out here longer.”

Harry laughs, one of those big belly laughs Draco hadn’t known was possible until Harry came into his life. He reaches for Draco’s hands. “I meant that you look quite handsome,” he says, squeezing Draco’s fingers. “I love those robes on you.”

“You look handsome too,” Draco says quietly, because even with his hair plastered to the sides of his face Harry still looks stunning. “I just—“ Draco glances at the quartet, finishing their song, and knows he only has a few more moments. “It feels like a bad omen, all the rain. It’s grey and horrible out, I just feel like it must mean—“

Harry pulls Draco’s hands to his lips, kisses his knuckles once, twice. “Bad omens are usually good ones for me,” he says. “Black dogs, prophecies, curses. I’d be more worried if our wedding went off without a hitch.”

Draco laughs, despite himself. “I planned for everything. I thought I had it covered.”

“You didn’t plan for me, though.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows nonsensically. “I always make things go sideways.”

It’s not so far from the truth. From the beginning, Draco had never planned on Harry. Harry is a force of nature, something impossible and glorious that has happened to Draco, and somehow keeps happening. He seems to defy all logic.

“I didn’t plan for you,” Draco agrees. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Somewhere behind them, the music stops. The rain continues. And Draco and Harry, hand in hand, begin.

An enormous thank you to the wonderful @lqtraintracks for betaing, and for the prompt “rain on their wedding day” &lt;3

203 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#2

If you decide to start writing fic

you’ll post something on Aug 22. Nothing major. It will go out to your fresh-faced AO3 and your followers on tumblr, fewer than ten, including your friend the gymnast who is also very good at reccing. You’ll write more microfics, wait to see whether anyone notices, loiter in your office bathroom to scroll through the precious tags of a reblog. A tiger will offer you an invite to a discord server, a first gateway, a beginning. You’ll talk about transness with a chameleon. You’ll talk steadily more to a black cat who lets you onto a whole sea of servers and that will make all the difference in the world. And then the cat will make all the difference in the world, a hundred times over, a thousand. You’ll meet a small community: cacti, witches, rocks, birds, cat owners, apricots. A local of the city you love. You’ll meet fellow hufflepuffs and acespecs and writers you’ve quietly followed for months and months; stars and sweets and quills, readers, healers and academics and degree-holders, and people who take your breath away in fifty words. You’ll remember why language is beautiful. You’ll remember why you write, or maybe learn it for the first time. Four thousand words will feel impossible but you’ll build the first story brick by brick, rewriting and rewriting. People will take the time to read it over for you. They’ll volunteer, even. Sometimes they’ll even thank you for asking them, and it will blow your mind; you’ve forgotten how giving people can be, or perhaps you’re still learning. You’ll meet a chemist by passing your phone to your partner, and by some stroke of luck she’ll anchor you in all her brilliance and warmth. When you post your first longer fics, they will receive love beyond your comprehension. People will leave you long, gracious comments. They’ll write recommendations that floor you. They will say, we saw your heart in Eastern Europe. In the scene with the hair, on the shoreline, in the small cramped flat, in the cabin. You will create things you did not think were possible for you. Strangers and friends will choose to keep you company online, small strange boxes of text made infinitely precious on lonely days and bright ones. You will write a horrifying (wonderful) story with someone halfway across the world and cackle far past your bedtime. You’ll trade paragraphs about eighth year fics, recipes, disco cowboy memes, gifts and prompts galore. A bee, a white cat, milk, honey, geese, a chickpea, an octopus, an artful mouse. These people will teach you queer joy. It is not a small thing to learn. There are so many intricacies captured—here, this is a new way to love your body. Here, this is a new way to stoke your soul. And all the while you will have been becoming yourself, surrounded by art and artists, and you will remember what a beautiful way this is to grow. Fostered by the generosity of strangers, and strangers become friends.

251 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

he finally finds out

Rated T | 50 words | for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “evidence”

Harry frowns. “There’s no evidence he fancies me.”

“He took your quill,” says Pansy.

“Insulted you three weeks straight,” Greg adds.

“Trust us, we know,” says Blaise.

“He’s just a ponce!” Harry says. “He’s always been like that to me. Always.”

A pause.

“…You’re not saying—”

“—Oh, we certainly are.”

402 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[deusluxuria]

johnny how does spine???

( warning: medical stuff )

( Don't be ableist or go "ew" or "oh no that is so sad that he's disabled" I'll eat you. )

For fanfiction info and whatever.

This info is subjective and not a matter of "you have to perceive Johnny this exact way." It's just a lil guide or starting point that might be helpful if you want to know more about Johnny's most-likely type of paraplegia.

There are a number of factors going on effecting the variables when it comes to gunshot wounds, spinal injury, and paralysis. So I'm gonna simplify it and get into basic stuff that doesn't require having a PhD or knowing firearm ballistics and all that.

(That being said, when it comes to writing about the experience of ableism, you need to be talking to disabled people and reading about their experiences. Remember that disabled people are a marginalized group.)

There's only so much we can figure out canonically. Spine injuries vary a lot, and then there are inconsistencies with Johnny's disability throughout the story. Araki likes to "not sweat the small stuff" (in his own words).

I like to just stick to the information we have in the beginning, since we get the most from there.

These are two excerpts from one of the first few chapters of the manga, showing approximately where in the spine Johnny was injured (just about above elbow level).

And here's a diagram showing the spinal column, and about what "above the elbow" means for Johnny's bodily functions. The T9 vertebrae is the closest to where that might be, so it can be assumed that Johnny's spine is effected from there-downward. Again, this varies depending on the person and multiple factors of the injury.

Digestive:

Johnny has no bowel control (which means it's a given he also has no urinary control). And according to how other characters say he has no sensation below the waist, either that's true or he has very minimal sensation.

Johnny is rich, so he can pay his medical bills. And his main dilemma in the story is that he's got a toxic self-ableist ego, so he probably would have gone for the prosthetic route, with colostomy surgery & catheters. As opposed to a bowel program or using diapers / other receptacles. Prosthetics also make more sense in context, since he's in a horse race and being chased by violent assholes, and so he wouldn't be able to visit a doctor or look after his hygiene just whenever.

A colostomy involves a hole (aka "stoma") being surgically made directly to the colon from the abdomen. A removable colostomy bag (aka "stoma bag") is attached to the hole, and is used as a receptacle for fecal matter to be emptied into automatically.

[ID: simple diagram showing the structure of colostomy surgery, & the location of the stoma & where the colostomy bag hangs. /end ID] [ID: simple stock photo showing a person slightly lifting up their shirt to show their colostomy bag, which is opaque, white flesh-tone color, & about the size of a large adult's winter mitten. /end ID]

This can make bowel movements easier for some paralyzed people as opposed to diapers or bowel programs, because emptying into a colostomy bag requires a lot less muscle function, is easier to change and clean, and needs less prep before bathing, showering, exercise, sex, sleep, etc.

Similarly, a catheter bypasses some of the distance and muscle control needed for urinating. A small, thin tube is inserted into the urethra and guided to the bladder. Urine automatically empties from the bladder, through the tube, and into a drainage bag, which is kept strapped to the person's thigh or calf, or secured to their wheelchair or underneath their bed.

[ID: simple diagram showing the structure of a catheter & thigh drainage bag, as well as what the extension to an overnight drainage bag might look like. /end ID] [ID: simple stock photo of an opaque white drainage bag cover, strapping the bag to the person's thigh. /end ID]

If someone uses a diaper, they'd simply change it whenever it's used, or otherwise whenever they're able to.

Because Johnny rides horses and does various dangerous, strenuous things in SBR, if using prosthetics, he might have his colostomy bag secured to his torso in some way (such as tying a piece of fabric around his torso). He might also have more padding to these prosthetics to protect them from being punctured, or worse, ripped out.

When he was shot, the bullet also may have perforated his intestines (along with his gallbladder and a kidney), which would have made a colostomy procedure necessary anyway. When he's shown in the hospital, he has a cloth wrapped around his pelvis, and acknowledges in distress that he's lost bowel and/or bladder control. So we can guess that his intestines are at least mostly intact.

[ID: Part of a panel from the Steel Ball Run manga, showing Johnny from the waist-down, in a hospital bed with a white cloth folded around his pelvis and bandages around his abdomen. /end ID]

Pain:

Johnny has the right idea about strapping his ankles up next to his saddle. People without paralysis tend not to realize just how heavy the human body is. With no muscle control in his legs, they would be way too heavy, and his back would be injured if he were to just let his legs dangle, especially while riding on horseback at high speeds. That would most definitely break his legs.

One thing about a transition between having muscle control and then being paralyzed is that previously non-paralyzed people might not understand right away that their paralyzed body parts still need to be taken care of. Even if those parts don't feel pain.

Johnny would likely have back, neck, and shoulder pain after being paralyzed, at least for a while. At least until he re-learns how to take care of his body from the waist down. Treating his legs like dead weight would put strain on the rest of his skeleton.

[ID: A panel from one of the first few chapters of Steel Ball Run. Johnny from the side, showing how he has changed the structure of his horse saddle and has his ankles strapped to his sides, so he's seated on his horse in a kneeling position. /end ID]

Sexual:

It's possible to experience orgasm with paralysis. There are types of non-genital orgasms, and then, strong or prolonged, repetitive stimulation to the errogenous zones of sensationless genitals can still cause orgasm that's felt from the waist-up (paralyzed folks may find the use of strong vibrators to be especially beneficial). Prostate stimulation may also be significantly more effective than genital stimulation.

Some people also have increased sensitivity from the waist-up if they're paralyzed from the waist-down (i.e. Johnny would feel notably more pain when injured, say, on his arm, than Gyro would).

A person can also have phantom sensations and experience pleasure & arousal from visual stimuli alone.

Sex with paralysis might need extra lubricant, since natural biological lubrication can be less prevalent with pelvic paralysis.

The way sexual stimulation feels to a paralyzed person is likely impossible for a non-paralyzed person to imagine. And it of course depends on the person and the unique way of how they experience sex in general.

Going by Johnny's personality, mainly with his loss of self-confidence, after his injury, he would likely only have sex with someone whom he trusts very deeply.

Reproductive:

With a uterus and viable ovaries, it's just as possible to get pregnant with pelvic paralysis as it is without. There can also still be pain during childbirth.

Viable testicles are a different story. It's very difficult to get someone pregnant when the person with testicles has pelvic paralysis. There would need to be help from a doctor. In context, Steel Ball Run doesn't stick to historical accuracy. But if it were, there's no way disability services around 1890 were existent enough for people with testicles to have medical help conceiving children when paralyzed at the pelvis.

If George is the biological child of both Johnny and Rina, it would make more logical and historical sense if Johnny had a uterus and was the one who gave birth to George, alongside Rina having testicles and being the one who impregnated Johnny. But that all depends on your headcanons, like what I said at the beginning of the post.

thank you for tuning in to "how johnny spine does" or something, goodnight lol

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[voidofall]

I posted 587 times in 2022

65 posts created (11%)

522 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@section-69

@justsomerandomletters

@dreamsequencer

@voidofall

@aw--heck

I tagged 323 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#ask me - 37 posts

#ask game - 27 posts

#romulans - 26 posts

#aftermath - 17 posts

#my writing - 17 posts

#star trek - 16 posts

#pride - 12 posts

#space - 10 posts

#snw - 10 posts

#nanowrimo 2022 - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#i truly feel like sometime i am missing something with how feral some trek fans get over certain ships but perhaps that is on me

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

💚Happy Valentines day💚  Here have a stab wife in a cute outfit

Commission | Tip Jar

16 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#4

if anyone knows how to add working music player to a tumblr theme let me know XD ya girl is struggling

16 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#3

Watching everyone flip out SNW is like watching a train derail. Like this is why I don't interact with the Spirk/Tos side of star trek. I have so far seen some ridiculous comments from Kirks new actor should be heavier and should basically just Shatner again to Spock is GAY as if it was ever confirmed in canon other than a one off joke in lower decks.

How about instead jumping straight down the writers throats for a story we don't even know yet. We wait a see. If Kirk turns out to be an Aos style interpretation, what is actually wrong with that. If Spock turns out to be straight, bi, pan, gay what does it actually matter when all anyone is going to do is retcon things through fanfics and fanon. LIKE NO SHIT HE IS WITH T'PRING THEY ARE ENGAGED. God forbid this might be a decent coming out story or a story about struggling with sexuality.

I don't know y'all, this is all just giving me flashback to how Michael was treated when she was announced in Disco and now look how beloved she is

16 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

#2

ehehe hi love :> hephaestus & titans for the lil ask game? 💜

Oh hohohohoh do I have a rant about art incoming dkfjhasljfjdsal

Hephaestus- What is your favourite form of art?

Ok! so i have some very strong thoughts about surrealism. One, I absolutely love love love the 'pure psychic automatism' that Breton spoke of in one of the surrealist manifestos. I believe Freud and his dream interpretations laid the basis for it (I could be wrong it has been a long time since I took Art History). So 'Pure psychic automatism' was basically "“psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express—verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner—the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.”

this was at first usual kept to writings but I believe Max Ernst really brought in the visual aspects that were picked up by people like Dali.

Two, and the main reason I love surrealism is it is just unfettered from 'normal' art. You just let your mind wander and either write or draw your meaning in whatever pops up. Some of my favorite surrealists are Dalí

The Hallucinogenic Toreador, uses a technique called 'paranoiac-critical method, which basically is the artist invoking a paranoid state in the viewer from what I remember.

The other artist I really love is Zdzisław Beksiński. His work is usually split into two periods, one is a utopian realism that focuses on the doomsday like landscapes and architecture and the other is more abstract figures. Personally I love the utopian realism.

i don't remember if this one has a title but this is a fucking amazing piece.

See the full post

21 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

2022 Reading list

Started the year off with Space Opera by Catherynne M. Valente. Really loved the idea of this no name band is a fucking bop in outer space XD. Really good light read and fun, basically space eurovision but instead the prize is you get to live.

Then I read 1984 by George Orwell, fucking god I love this book so much. The themes are just peak, the fact that we are basically living in this timeline is just peak like wow. Five stars. Great book. Take it from the random internet person.

24 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hoseokisgucci]

You Lift Me Up

GENRE: Fluff and Smut

WORD COUNT: 5K

PAIRING: Taehyung x Reader

SUMMARY: Taetae here sees OC at the gym, one day helps her out a little when she gets injured and somehow ends up in her bed. 

WARNING: Tbh there’s some oral in there (fem receiving), some body worship, a lil of undiscovered kinks showing a sneak peek, penetrative sex, a little dialogue heavy, Taehyung being softboi max. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I originally uploaded this without the smut, but then deleted it, and now I’m putting it up again because I finally got around to finishing it. I definitely wanted to write something gym related because its my safe space but I really also wanted to make it soft because IM AN IDIOT FOR PEOPLE FALLING IN LOVE/FINDING THEIR PEOPLE. 

“How different would it be anyways? I’ll just ask someone for help if I need it. It’s not like I’ll be abandoned by everyone just because I don’t have a partner.”

 “Hey! We didn’t abandon you!! We have exams. Our university made you lonely, not us.” Your friend squawked over the phone.

 Taking advantage of this new found chink in her armor, you added, “Yes. An institution is more important than I am. I see how it is. Hungry, partner-less and overcome with despair. That’s my life now.”

 She huffed, and you could just imagine her shaking her head at you. “You’re a heathen. I’ll buy you food. Now bye. Duty calls.”

 You laughed out an affirmative and slid the phone into the side pocket of your gym bag. The university gym was located close to your dorms, which made it easier for you to haul your ass to the gym even on your lazy days. You were already wondering what it would be like without a partner. You always had friends with you at the gym, be it one or two. You never had to worry about spotting or support ever before, but now these questions crossed your mind. Scenarios where you dropped a dumbbell on your toe or worse, your face flashed before your eyes. You shuddered when a haunting crack resounded in your ears, the sound reminding you to be wary of heavy lifting while you were on your own.

 Getting started on your workout was easy enough. A little warmup here, a bit of running and cycling there. The music pumping through your ears helped you keep up the pace as you cycled, body starting to sweat, lips mouthing the words of the song playing through your earphones. When you hit the 15-minute mark, you figured it would be alright to cycle for 5 more minutes. 

Just as the song changed, and you looked down to check if the lever for your seat was proper, your heart came up to your throat as someone tapped you. With your hand over your heart, legs coming to a stop, you turned to see the most gorgeous man ever. Scratch that. The most gorgeous being ever.

 Lost in your head, you only came to when you realized that his lips were supposed to be forming coherent sentences. That were aimed at you. Raising your hand, your palm faced towards him, you said, “Wait, I can’t hear you.”  His lips grimaced, as if embarrassed and he nodded his head. When you turned off your music, paused your timer and turned to look at him, torso twisting in his direction, his eyes quickly snapped to yours, as if he wasn’t just checking out the swell of your ass perched on the tiny cycle seat. You raised your brows at him, which probably kickstarted his brain again. He gulped and said,

 “How long will you take?”

  You were about to retort and tell him that there were other cycles too, but when you turned the other way, you saw that all of them were occupied.

 “Maybe around 4 more minutes.” He nodded in response, gave a quick smile, and when he was about to turn away, you tapped his hand, grabbing his attention once more. You didn’t know why you felt good, having those eyes on you. You were probably going crazy, you imagination making you see the electricity in them.

 Rethinking about your situation, you said, “Actually, I’ll get off. I was just going to do some extra cycling, but you can get started.”

 He shook his head, curly hair bouncing around as he said, “No no, please take your time. I’ll just stretch some while you’re getting done.”

 You nodded your head and smiled at him, hoping that he could understand how grateful you were. You got back to cycling, starting up the movement of your legs once again. Without the music to keep you occupied your eyes wandered to the mirror in front of you. As you scanned your surroundings, you noticed the guy from before, stretching his arms, gazed fixed on your form. The intensity with which he kept looking at you almost made your legs flounder, but you concentrated on maintaining your momentum.

 Sighing inwardly, your eyes moved backed to him. He hadn’t noticed you looking at him, because he wasn’t focused on your face, but rather your ass. Wanting to add fuel to the fire, you stuck your ass out a little more and arched your back a little more, making your body look a little more tantalizing. As you did this, you could see his eyes widen a little, hands now hanging limp. You discreetly kept looking at him, and could see him scan your form, his gaze focusing on your face. You cycled a bit more aggressively, the motion moving you from side to side. 

If he was watching, you might as well give him a good show. When you eyed him again, he was bent over, legs spread wide, hands touching the ground, stretching. But his eyes, they didn’t leave you, or rather, your butt, even once.

 Your timer beeped, signaling the end of your 20 minutes. You slowed down your legs and sat there, catching your breath. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks were flushed, sweat dotting your forehead and your face glistened. You looked thoroughly wrecked. He was still looking at you. You got off the cycle, walked to him and said, “Its all yours.”

 He nodded, and you walked away. You breezed through the rest of the workout, mind occupied with thoughts of big hands and one beautiful man.

  Through the next week, you kept seeing him at the gym, on a machine or doing a rep. You weren't ignoring him, per se, but what the hell would you go and say to him? "Hey I think you're pretty hot, come over and choke me?"

 Definitely not.

 A week without a partner goes by with no problems, but its like your beginner luck in the world of solo exercising has run out when you lose your balance while doing weighted squats. Even before starting the set, you were a bit worried, because the rod itself weighed 32 kgs, and you had added plates of 10 kgs. You never imagined that you'd get injured at the gym out of all places but, alas! Your time had come. When you felt that you had no control over the bar and your body anymore, you tried to brace yourself for impact, but two hands lifted the bar off of your shoulders, which allowed your body to gain some balance. When you looked at the mirror, you saw cycle dude holding the bar in his hands. You quickly turned around and helped him rack it.

With frantic eyes, he scans your body for any apparent injuries and asks,

 "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

 "Uh no, I don’t think so. Just that, my knee might be a little sprained."

 His eyes focus on your knee, hands out in front of him, ready to support you. You start walking, but you can feel a slight tinge in your right knee when you put pressure on it. The discomfort might show on your face, because he wraps your arm around his shoulder, and urges you to put your weight on him. He walks you to the bench and sits you down, your leg extended in front of you.

Squatting near your leg, fingers brushing the hair our of his eyes and off of his forehead, he asks,

"Can you call someone to take you home?"

 You take a minute to think if there's anyone who actually could take you home at this moment. And you come up with no one. You tell him so.

 Tentatively, eyes now darting here and there, he says

 "Uh, would you mind if I dropped you off?"

  You blurt out, "Why?"

 "Huh?"

 "Why would you do that? You don't even know me."

 "Well I, uh, might have a small crush on you. Not in a creepy way! I just think you're kinda cute. And I would feel better if I knew you'd get home safely."

  Welp. That's kinda endearing.

  "Okay. Let's go."  

 He asks for your locker number, goes and gets both of your bags and comes to get you. For a few minutes, you walk with your arm around his

 shoulder, half of your weight held up by him. Your pace is probably slower than a snail, what with you trying to clumsily hop and him trying to support you. He stops and says,

 "Okay, let's get you on my back. You can point in what direction you wanna go and I'll carry you. It'll be faster and way better for you."

 You try to protest but he's already hanging both of your bags around his neck and getting on his haunches in front of you, hands ready to hold your legs. So you climb on.

As he starts walking, he says,

"I'm Taehyung by the way, your beloved servant."

 "Well, my dear servant, you shall call me princess then," you cheekily reply as you tighten your hold around his neck.

 He laughs and shakes his head, huffing out, "Wow, the audacity."

 "I'm sorry. Thank you so much, I'll be indebted to you forever. You're too kind," you sincerely say to him.

 He just hums in response, so you leave it at that. Your dorm building isn't that far, so you make it there in no time. You get in the lift, and once it opens on your floor, you tell Taehyung your dorm number.

 You tell him your door code, and he walks you in, going straight to your couch and sitting you down. He takes the bags from his neck and puts them aside. Next, he takes off your shoes and puts them near your door.

 "Okay, do you mind if I check your fridge? Is there anything like an icepack? To put on your knee?"

 "Yeah, there is an ice pack."

 He grabs the ice pack, fills it with ice cubes and holds it on your knee. The freezing sensation

 sends a twinge down your knee. He urges you to hold the ice pack and goes to the kitchen. When he comes back, he presses a glass of water to your lips, and you drink.

 Once you're done, he sets the glass on the coffee table, and settles beside you, grabbing your leg and gently getting it on his lap, urging you to lie down, with your head resting on the armrest. He holds your leg with one hand, and tenderly ices your knee with the other. The action makes you relax your body, all the stress unwinding. Taehyung doesn't say anything, his eyes concentrated on your knee. Feeling the pain in your knee numbing, you close your eyes.

 The next thing you know, Taehyung in shaking you awake, calling out your name in his low baritone. When you gain some semblance of consciousness, the first thing that you register is the fragrance of food. Your stomach grumbles, and Taehyung chuckles at you. He helps you sit up, and shoves a takeout box in your hand. You thank him and dig in. Once you're done, he cleans up and comes back to sit beside you.

 "How are you feeling now?"

 You flex your leg a little, and when it doesn't hurt that bad, you say, "It feels better.  I'll just take a painkiller and knock out."

 He nods his head, hand reaching out to feel over and around your knee. After being satisfied, he rests his hand on your knee, and looks at you. "I'm glad. Just be careful."

 In a moment of courage, you rest your hand over his and say,

"I can't thank you enough. For getting me home, taking care of me, feeding me."

 His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he rests his other hand over yours, your palm now sandwiched between two of his. He leans closer to you, and whispers,

 "You don't have to thank me, doll. But I can think of a few things you could do."

 The way he says these words makes tingles run up your spine, the intent clear in eyes, made clearer by his words. You close your eyes and lean back on the sofa, knowing that Taehyung's eyes are fixed on you. The knowledge that this kind, breathtakingly beautiful man has a crush on you, and moreover wants you, gives you the confidence to act a little, if not more coy. With your head now tilted towards the ceiling and your eyes closed, you channel your inner heathen and say,

"And what would they be, hmm?"

When you hear him suck a breath in beside you, you smirk inwardly. You wait for him to say something, but he just retracts his hands from yours. This action makes you open your eyes and tilt your head to look at him, question clear in your gaze.

Just as you're about to sit up and say something, you're hit with a face full of Taehyung, and suddenly his palms are grabbing your face and his lips are on yours. The shock makes your eyes widen, but as you register what's going on, your eyes close and your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him back.

Taehyung's lips feel way better than you could ever imagine, and the warmth seeping into your skin from his palms makes this experience feel real, and not just fantasy. When his lips suck on your lower lip a little harder, you arch your back, your upper body lifting off the couch. This makes him slide one hand off of your cheek and around your waist, and he pulls your body closer to his.

At this point, he's basically straddling you. When his tongue probes your mouth, one of your hands grab the back of his hair and pull. The low groan he lets out as you disconnect from his mouth and start sucking on his neck makes you quiver, the thought of hearing the same baritone in your ear as he pounds into you making you want him even more. He parts from you, and as he sits up, your hands leave his body.

 "What do you want?"

 You bite your lip, and instead of answering, one of your hand rises to his waistband. Instantly, his hand grips yours, and as he smiles, he leans down to kiss your palm. Against it, he whispers,

"Want me to eat you out? Wanna cum on my tongue?"

You gulp at the thought of this man between your legs, and nod at him. Something in his face hardens, and he drops your hand, only to lean over you and grip your chin.

"Use your words, baby doll. What do you say?"

You maintain eye contact with him and whisper,

"Yes."

Though your answer makes him loosen his grip on your jaw, only makes him move closer to you.

 "Yes what?"

 "Yes sir."

 At your answer, Taehyung's eyes widen, and then a smirk spreads across his face. His hands urge you out of your top, and he throws it over his shoulder, uncaring as to where it lands. 

His eyes take you in, and in a second he's getting off you and pulling your leggings and underwear down your body. You struggle a little to lift your ass off the couch, a little pain shooting through your knee at the pressure. Taehyung makes you rest your injured leg straight on the coffee table. After making sure you're comfortable, he leans down you kiss you, on of his hands making their way to your tits. When he squeezes and twists a nipple, your body arches off the couch, legs spreading wider.

Once Taehyung's satisfied from claiming your mouth, he gets down on his knees in between your legs. For the first time, you see hesitation cross his eyes as he nibbles his lower lip. You lean up, and say,

"I want you. Please make me cum, please."

A smile blooms on his face, eyes lighting up as his hands move up your thighs. He leans forward, kissing up the inside of your left thigh, his hands squeezing where they hold you. After a few kisses, he suddenly bites, which makes you reach out to grip his hair as you moan.

 Indifferent to your reaction, he moves forward, his hands widening your legs as he comes face to face with your core. Sounding absolutely wrecked, he says,

"Fuck I can't wait to taste you."

With this, he kisses your mound, and then spreads your outer lips.

 "Holy shit, darling, it's all for me, right?"

 You card your hands through his hair as you whisper an affirmative. Happy with your response, Taehyung leans in and envelops your clit in his lips, and sucks. Slowly, he starts making strokes with his tongue, delving deeper. He speeds up the motions of his tongue, now moving it in and out, and puts a finger in your core. The slide is tight, and it makes you both moan. But he doesn't stop, if anything, he gets even more determined. 

Soon, he adds another finger and his tongue moves onto your clit. The added stimulation makes the knot in your core tighten, the arousal pulsing stronger in your veins. He takes his mouth off of your clit with a pop and leans back to see his fingers scissoring as they move inside you. You tilt your head down to take a look at him, and dear God above, he looks wrecked. His hair is all messed up, thanks to your fingers, and his lips are swollen and glistening, and you're pretty sure his chin is too.

 Fuck.

 Your eyes roll to the back of your head as this visual ingrains itself in your eyes, a whimper falling from your mouth as you say,

"Fucking God, please fuck me. Want you so bad, please."

 "I'll think about it if you cum like a good girl first."

  His fingers speed up, and he leans down to capture you clit in his mouth again. This time, he's absolutely brutal with the way he goes at you, nothing gentle about his mouth or his fingers. Just as you feel yourself climbing up to a climax, he adds another finger, his tongue now flicking across your clit.

 As you get closer to the finish line, your moans turn into curse words, your voice getting louder.

 "Fucking Hell, Taehyung, don't stop! Shit! I'm s-so close, please, please, I'm gonna c-cum!"

 Saying nothing Taehyung curves his fingers inside you as he lightly bites on your clit, and that's all it takes for you to let go. Your body pulls taut, legs shaking around him, hips riding his fingers. His fingers and his mouth guide you along your high, and even after you've come down, his mouth still keeps laving over your clit. You moan in oversensitivity and that's when he deems it enough.

 He gets up, but groans out while straightening his legs. You giggle at his facial expression, and he stands over you, hands on his hips, mouth drawn into a pout.

 "I just ate you out but you're laughing at me, huh?"

 This makes you laugh out loud, and you say,

"Can't believe you're a grandpa."

 His mouth falls open, flabbergasted. His mouth tries and fails to form a word, and his mouth just bubbles out a laugh. He's shaking his head as he takes off his tee, and throws it on the couch beside you. Oh you're definitely not laughing now.

 "Well, this grandpa did get you off, baby doll. Now, where's the bedroom?"

 He leans down to pick you up, his hands urging your thighs to wrap around his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. You hold on tighter when he stands up straight with you in his arms. He leads you to the bedroom, kicking the door open and walking in. He lays you down on the duvet slowly, mindful of jostling your leg. 

Once you're lying on the bed, he goes to get a pillow and puts it below your knee. You make eye contact with him, hoping your smile conveys how grateful you are. He smiles at you, expression shy. Pointing at the bedside table, you say,

"The condoms are in here."

 He raises an eyebrow, but gets a condom and climbs on the bed. Once he's in between your legs, one of his hands knead your thigh, the action relaxing your muscles, making you let out a sigh. Seeing your reaction, he leans down to kiss your tummy, trailing light kisses down to your pelvis.

 "You look so beautiful like this. So lovely."

 His hand glides up your inner thigh, two fingers plunging into you without warning. He pulls out, only to push back in, your soft wet walls accommodating to his ministrations easily. When he doesn't hear you making a sound, he scissors his fingers, and starts sucking a hickey on your hipbone. A shiver runs through you, and you let out a whimper at the sudden influx of stimulus.

 "Such a sweetheart, huh? Always ready to let me know how good I'm making you feel."

 As he says this, he adds another finger, and the added stretch makes you arch off the bed. Soon, Taehyung has you moaning his name, your hands reaching out to hold onto the bedsheet. Taehyung slows down his fingers, and asks you,

 "What do you want? Tell me. Tell me and I'll give it to you."

 The husk in his voice makes you groan, the timber of it sending trills of arousal shooting through you.

 "Want you to fuck me. Now. Right now."

 Pulling his fingers out of you, he whispers, "Then that's what you'll get, baby."

  He takes off his gym shorts and his underwear, his cock standing hard and proud, the tip glistening with precum. While stroking his cock, he says,

"Although everything in me is telling me to fuck you like the devil you are, I don't wanna add to your injuries. So let's have you wrap you legs around me, okay?"

 Actually processing what he said, you try to move your leg, but the twinge of pain has you nodding your head in agreement.

 Seeing your approval, he gives you a smile and tears open the condom. Your eyes trace him as he kneels between your legs. The soft curls falling into his eyes, the slope of his nose, adding to his charm. The strength visible in his shoulders, all the way down to his arms, makes you want things that can only be done behind closed doors. The thoughts of being manhandled, being pushed into the mattress as he takes you run through your head among other lust-filled scenarios, and these make you gulp.

Your eyes follow when he rolls the condom onto himself and strokes his cock in long motions.

 His eyes, fall onto you, and seeing how you're entranced by, well, his dick, he chuckles. The sound makes your eyes flit to his, your cheeks already filling with colour, embarrassment flooding your mind.

 Taehyung doesn't say anything, just urges your legs to wrap around his waist as he leans over you. That one moment of silence, where you and him are just two people, closer than ever, closer than any galaxies, any stars, seems to last for a lifetime. When he slightly smiles, one of his hands coming up to stroke your hair, you feel a storm brewing where you heart is meant to be. You smile back, and then Taehyung is thrusting into you, the stars in his eyes now clouded by lust.

 The first few thrusts are slow, languid and have Taehyung's eyes flitting over your features, looking for any signs of discomfort. But when he finds none, he gains confidence, his hips moving with more purpose, plunging impossibly deeper into you. Your eyes close, head tilting up as your mouth lets out little moans mixed in with whimpers.

 Taehyung's thrusts slow down into him just grinding his cock into you, and he grabs your chin to make you look at him.

 "Look at me, baby. You feel so good, like heaven. Maybe even more divine than heaven itself."

 The sincerity in his eyes as he says this makes your clench around him, throat choking on the words you want to say. You reach out a hand and put it on his shoulder, which makes him pause his movements. Worry flickers across his face as he waits for you to say something.

 "G-go faster. Wanna cum. Right now. Please."

 The worry on Taehyung's face quickly dissolves into cockiness as he positions himself to pound into you better. His smirk grows as his thrust gets a moan out of you. Continuing with his ministrations, he manages to grunt out,

"This good enough for you, doll?"

 When you don't answer him, too busy whimpering, he leans over you and one of his hands reach out and twist your nipple in warning, hips maintaining their momentum.

"Think I asked a question, darling. Come on, now."

 The hand you had on his shoulder moves up to the back of his head, and as your fingers entangle in his locks and pull, you say,

"Yes! Yes! Dear God, yes! F-feel good."

 He doesn't verbally reply to you, but he hums, the low rumble of his voice making you feel some type of way.

 One of his hands land near your head, the other one grabbing your thigh, and its pound town from there. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixed in with Taehyung's grunts and your moans. The boy in between your legs turns into a beast chasing just one thing, and he doesn't slow down. The sound of sex resounds in the room, making you feel downright dirty.

 Your eyes focus on Taehyung's face contorted in pleasure and his body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Maybe it's this realization, that you have this beautiful man fucking into you that pushes you closer to your climax.

When your walls start clenching around him, the ball of fire in the pit of your stomach so close to bursting, one of your hands reach down, two of your fingers rubbing your clit in desperation.

 "That's it. Make yourself cum on my cock. Let me see you cum, baby. Wanna feel you cum for me."

His words are accompanied by his hips moving faster, hitting the spot inside you, making the fire in you unravel. Your back arches off the bed, mouth opening in a whimper as you cum, body drowning in pleasure.

 Your walls tighten around Taehyung, making him let out a choked moan. With two, three more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming in the condom. He slumps on you, letting out puffs of air, catching his breath. When Taehyung taps both of your legs gently, you remember that they've been there this whole time, and, holy shit, your fucking knee was fucking sprained. Taehyung, apparently has the same realization, because his concerned wide eyes lock with yours and he slowly untangles your legs. Your knee gives a twinge in protest to movement but as soon as it's straight and on the bed, you feel fine. Taehyung pulls out, and ties the condom off, getting up to go and throw it in the bin.

 When he comes back, it's to you playing with your fingers running circles on your navel. You stop your actions when you realize he's back in the room, your cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment. Taehyung mumbles a 'cute' but doesn't say anything else.

Taehyung has a wet towel in one hand, with which he gently wipes between your legs. And when he's done, he leans down to leave a kiss on your forehead, and then he's gone again. Your eyes follow his bubble butt as he leaves the room.

 Exhaustion seeps into your bones, and your eyes close. They only open to the sound of something being set down on the bedside table. You open your eyes and turn your head to see that it's a glass of water, and Taehyung, Taehyung is wearing shorts again.

 You sit up, grabbing the glass and gulping down the water. The thought that you're still completely naked makes you feel shy, even after all of the things you just did. Taehyung sits

 beside you on the bed, taking the glass from your hand and putting it on the table.

 "Uhm.."

 "I ju-"

 Both of you shut up, but when you lock eyes with each other, laughter spills out of you. With a smile on his face, Taehyung speaks first.

 "What were you going to say?"

 You think for a moment, wondering if what you're about to say will sound weird or not.

 "Uh, just that, do you want to stay over?"

 With disbelief painting his face, Taehyung asks, "You want me to?"

 You try to keep the endearment out of your voice as you deadpan, "Oh no, the monster under my bed just liked your feet and told me to ask you to stay longer."

 It takes a moment for your words to register, but when Taehyung realizes what you just said, laughter tumbles from his lips.

  Your concerned friends knock on your door the next morning, and a clueless Taehyung opens the door to let them in. Your friends barge in to find you wrapped in a blanket, lying on the couch, Haikyuu! playing on your TV. Taehyung just stands there, neck full of hickies, rampant sex hair, smelling like your body wash.

 Your friends look at you for a moment, then turn to Taehyung only to turn back to you. When one of them asks you what the hell you've been doing yesterday and where you've been, you lock eyes with Taehyung as you smugly say,

 "What can I even say? It was one heck of a workout."

[jostepherjoestar]

return from Sicily 🖤

sfw // gn reader // so much pining like whew 

Hello everyone, it is i, Cozy, back to give you a lil snack between schoolwork. This was fully self indulgent, to a worrying degree, so my apologies for that. But please enjoy, it was a fun little writing exercise since it’s been a while!💖✨

A distant car door shut, the sound muffled by the thick brick walls that separated you from the sparsely populated street where La Squadra Esecuzioni has been residing for a little while now. It’s not an uncommon sound, not at all actually. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up to heavy car doors slamming in the middle of the night, men of disputable morals stepping out and going about their even more so morally disputable business. But instead of filling you with annoyance that you’d have to lull yourself back to sleep again, this faint slam meant the return of your capo!

He’d been off on his very first holiday since joining Passione. Perhaps it was even the first in his life, the past never really presenting such opportunities unfortunately. 10 days. 10 whole days since the looming figure that brought a sense of calm and comfort to your shared homebase had left to start his travels to Sicily. And God had you missed him. You thought your crush on him had been manageable, maybe it would even dim by not seeing him for a while.

But oh no. It got worse. It got so much worse.

You hadn’t realised it before, but living so close with your teammates had conditioned you. You saw them every single day, for worse or for better. And that also included Risotto. Sometimes he’d be too busy to come out of his office but you were always sure to pay him a quick visit. Just to check up on him, you told yourself. You’d shoot him a warm smile that always received a small nod in return from the tired form pouring over his work.

A rush of excited energy barreled through your body, trying to suppress the need to wait at the front door like an overzealous golden retriever. You put down your phone and exhaled deeply, mentally preparing yourself as to not let on how much you’ve missed seeing him around.

You heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and got up from the living room couch you’d been lounging on as casually as possible. Casually making your way to the entrance to casually welcome back your colleague. Casual.

Risotto looked...magnificent. His skin had darkened under the Sicilian sun and given him a nice tan that evenly spread over his figure. He was wearing a simple black shirt that clung to the right places, adorning his chiseled chest and barely holding onto his built biceps. His hat was nowhere in sight and his silver locks poked out in different directions, clearly not bothered to tame them for his drive home.

Your quick once-over cut short over the sound of your own voice. “You’re back! Did you have fun? I missed you-” To your own surprise the words left you all too soon. In an attempt to fix the slip up you hurriedly continued. “We all missed you, I mean…” you trailed off. Risotto’s lips quirked up into an amused smirk, showing off his dimple that rarely appeared. He looked a lot more relaxed than before he left.

“Oh? We?” he said, making it a point to lean to his side to direct his gaze to the empty apartment behind you. No one else had been home. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and the desperate need to run and never return. Why was this already so hard?

You nervously chuckled and wrung your hands together, casting your eyes down at Risotto’s bag that had been put near the messy shoe rack Formaggio promised to clean up while your capo was gone. Sensing you weren’t going to rebuttal his comment, he continued. “It was nice. But I did miss you all, too.” The baritone of voice only stoked the fires burning under your skin.

He had missed you. Your mind swatted away the unnecessary word that followed his statement indicating that he’d also missed your teammates. You really needed to get a grip on your feelings.

You looked up again, feeling a bit braver to face your capo. “You look at ease, it really did you good, huh?” you softly hummed. His eyes held kindness in return, no matter how dark and spooky they were to some, they held no sharp edge whenever they landed on you.

As soon as you both stepped further into the apartment you heard him let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t of displeasure, no, those were way deeper and mostly kept for difficult meetings. He was breathing in the familiar smell of home. One that strangely enough had become the one he most associated with you. Walking behind you towards his room with his bag gripped tightly, his hand clutching the straps even harder turning his knuckles white.

He’d missed you too. So much. His trip was fun and relaxing and he could finally spend time by himself after being surrounded by people 24/7. But with every stroll past the beach, every dinner spent by himself- calmly sipping a glass of deep red wine, he wished you were there to spend it with him. To hold your hand and gently sway it as the sea breeze washed away the stress work had caused to settle onto you both. To rest on the beach together, lazing on a towel while the sun beamed down and a comfortable silence that rested between you.

Risotto was thankful for the holiday he never thought he’d have while working for Passione, but even more thankful to be back home. Where you were.

You had kindly opened the door for him, that cute smile resting on your lips as you let him pass by. The room smelled fresh and sweet like the breeze outside, the wind fluttering the curtains. “I changed your sheets and opened the window for you. Thought you wouldn’t mind it.” you shyly said as he set down his bag and huffed down on the edge of his bed. Idly caressing the light sheets in appreciation. He offered you a quick smile in return, instantly making that heat rise back to your cheeks.

“I’ll let you get settled.” You were glad he was back home safe, maybe you’d rest easier now and maybe your feelings would reach a more manageable level again. But before you could get far, not even a step further towards the hallway, you felt a big hand grasp your wrist. It felt warm and calloused, one that has worked hard and endured too much. You bounced back but steadied yourself to face Risotto who had cleared his throat and swiftly let go of your wrist. Bold move there, he warned himself.

“Sorry, I- I got you something.” he grumbled out the apology, brow creased as he dipped down to reach for something in his bag.

“Here.” He handed you a strangely shaped crumpled newspaper, cursing himself for not wrapping it in something a bit nicer. It was much heavier than your average weekly publication so you held it steadier, gently trying to unwrap whatever was hiding inside. Excitement was still bubbling inside, but a sense of ease that only Risotto supplied had nestled its way into you.

Risotto took over the discarded newspaper to let you admire the gift, trying his best to hide his excited stare, eager to know if you’d liked it. In your hands rested a ceramic mug, it looked handmade and the uneven strokes of shiny blue coloured glaze gave it a rustic touch. Lemons and leaves decorated the sides, making you turn it over a couple times to fully admire the handiwork. You were so enamoured by the gift you’d forgotten to let him know your thoughts.

“For your collection…” he trailed off, getting a bit nervous at his choice and doubting if you’d liked it. He knew you had a particular taste in mugs that were allowed into your hallowed collection. (not to be touched by your other teammates of course)

“I love it Ris. Really, it’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much.” You really did love it, your heart could barely take how much you did. Clutching the mug in your hand, you reached over and hugged him. He had barely processed the relief of you liking his gift to be hit with your form clinging to his torso. Carefully, he placed a single hand around your middle, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as he reciprocated. “Thank you.” you quietly let out while giving him a curt squeeze.

His arm eased you down  to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, feeling his very own surge of warmth ghost over his cheeks. His hand remained on your side, comfortably resting there, feeling right at home. You didn’t mind, not in the slightest. You were just so happy he’d returned and even brought you a thoughtful gift.

“Maybe next time I could show you around the shop I got it from. They have lots more to choose from.” he urged himself on, hearing his own heartbeat reach new speeds at the suggestion and its implications. A next time, but with you by his side.

You held onto the mug for dear life, clasping your fingers even tighter around the sides in case you’d drop it and shatter it like your chances with Risotto. Your mind raced, his suggestion having caused a mild short circuit of all functions. After a trained breath you find the strength to reply. “I’d like that very much. Just be sure to keep Ghiaccio away from the fragile stuff.” you chuckled nervously. A heavenly sound to the smitten capo.

“The rest of the team- as much as I like them- are uhm… not invited.” The smile that danced on his lips and the glint in his eyes made your heart flutter all over as you looked up at him.

A holiday? Just the two of you?

“Oh. Oh.”

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his as the thought settles between you. His hand on your hip hadn’t moved, only growing warmer and now finally urging you to scootch a little closer. His soft touch lingering on the small of your back now, closing in the distance and letting your hands rest on his chest as he moved to your inviting lips.

You felt like you’d burst any second, steadying your breath seemingly the hardest task you’ve had to face yet. But then your lips met, softer than any you’d felt before and easing over yours like it was the greatest privilege ever granted. A warm palm cupping your cheek, only deepening the finalisation of your mutual holiday plans. Everything you’d both been wishing to let out finally coming together, moving along your lips with a deep need and hunger that got its chance to grasp at a godly buffet.

With disbelief you both let go- regrettably so, softly gasping for air. If you wanted to go on a holiday together, you would still need to be breathing to get there. As you shared the lingering moment of closeness, appreciating the warmth and love of each other’s gazes, your hearing picked up on scuffling in the hallway.

Mortified you snapped your attention to Melone in the doorway collecting what looked like money from a passing Formaggio and Prosciutto. “Told you they’d do it after he got back.” he smuggly grinned, counting his winnings as you heard Risotto let out a small chuckle under his breath. Earning him a playful jab to his side from you.

“Melone, I won’t kill you if we split the winnings. We have a holiday to save for.” you grumbled.

[with-the-same-tattoos]

I love Sirppi!!! Can we get more stuff about them and Brahms and how they interact with each other?

A-hh,hhhs;;;; (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ t-tysm... GLADLY. I'm planning on trying to write a lil first draft level thingy based on radio brahms as an exercise when my summer break starts (dunno if ill post since itll be just that, first draft, just a way for me to practice how i work stories in that world & how i might one day tell my own full stories w/in it), so I'm VERY happy to talk abt it & any questions can be very helpful.

I think I have to mention about radio brahmses personality in this a bit b4 i get started on the interactions !!! In GENERAL i depict Brahms a bit more mature than the standard, more as a dad jokes kinda guy who just has no socialization. Same applies here. He is actually very wanting and willing to be an adult, but he is just incredibly bad at it (or parts of it), and he thinks it has to be all kept a secret. Yada yada. In radio, Brahms is the one who comes forward after getting over his nerves. He is incredibly bad at understanding his flaws and recieving critisism, but also incredibly bad at expressing his emotions / what he wants / etc. Has some serious social anxiety. Is still severely nasty.

So when it comes to interactions, I'll jump directly to when Brahms has shown himself. Before that, Sirppi has begun to chat with the doll and actually get kind of comfortable. When they find out Brahms is... well, Brahms, they're kinda in shock, and at first, they just try to Stay Safe for the first few days "until the shopkeeper stops by". They almost completely ignore Brahms, and make clear that they are taking care of a child, the doll Brahms. They keep up the routine. Similiarly to when Greta returns to the house and uses that parent voice, expect Sirppi, who has gotten kinda comfy talking with the doll, talks at brahms the doll, and Brahms the lad kinda is just. A) weirded out b) so used to following this routine c) doesn't know what else to do so he just. Follows along at first, but this time, staying around Sirppi, coming out of the walls more. He just sits there, awkwardly, staring, not knowing like. What 2 do.

did some quick warmup sketches before i start work too so >:)

It scatters from there, Brahms starts to kinda slowly gather the nerve to do things, and Sirppi slowly realizes that he rly is just like a dude and warms up to him.

Some small bits n pieces of interaction scenarios I'm thinkinh sbt;

Sirppi is not a good cook, they just try to get things done as fast as possible. They start by Sirppi making Brahms food, but one day Sirppi wakes up to Brahms very upbeat at their door, following them to the dining room, where they find a full 5 star filling breakfast for the two of them, and that's the first time they eat at the table at the same time, together (however, Sirppi doesn't like that Brahms didn't make a plate for the Brahms doll, and gets one themself for it) (Brahms id confused but is like fine)

Sirppi started out reading more childrens type books to the Brahms doll, but slowly Brahms starts to give them like fr fr poetry books and stuff and they actually kinda slip away from their lil game 2gether when they have a lil convo abt some poem and its meaning. Sirppi gets flustered and book time is over.

Sirppi is quiet and soft voiced, but they raise their voice one time when Brahms gets too close, and he is very cranky and annoyed by it and whines and complains in his head and questions and questions but. He respects their personal space still, afterwards. And he's angry and annoyed every time he wants to be close but can't, but he still tries his best to not make them uncomfy, and at some point he realizes that it's bc the comfort of others is actually pretty important to him. And he starts to question what his own comfort includes and limits. He one day tells Sirppi off about smth he feels is uncomfortable, and Sirppi respects it, and that day they eat 2gether in a happy, meaningful silence :')

Uhmmm OK I WONT RAMBLE MORE FOR THIS ONR I GTA GET TO WORK BUY.... THANK U FOR CARING IT MEANS A LOT TO.ME

[bubbleteaa]

Fragile as a cherry blossom petal [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

Fragile as a cherry blossom petal; pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader warnings: Tons of feelings, like, a lot; some angst, just a lil bit. words: 5233 uwu

Summary: When he saw you, you seemed so fragile, just like the cherry blossom petals that fell around you; little he knew, that the fragile petal was him.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

The cool April wind hit his face as he ran. His mind was blank, his legs moved automatically. Ushijima could feel the droplets of sweat slipping down his jaw. He turned, decided to change his rhythm and began to slow down, his eyes peeled off the way to observe the cherry blossoms dancing to the rhythm of the wind, he breathed deeply, usually did not pay attention to him around when exercising. Everything was a routine, warmed up, ran, returned to Shiratorizawa and practiced with the rest of the club. But, for a moment, his routine was affected by observing the beautiful pink petals.

Then he stopped. He stopped running and kept watching. For some reason, no matter how many times he saw the same petals, his breath was always stolen. They looked so fragile. Maybe, just maybe that's what motivated him to see them. Their delicacy.

He heard a rather low, almost faint sneeze, he turned almost instantly. On one of the benches, he observed a girl sitting with a notebook in his hands, watching Wakatoshi curiously, but only with that. Ushijima's face didn't express anything.

"Bless you" he caught the way to say, his words slipped through his mouth very gently, but he sounded harshly anyway. He looked at her again. She was writing something on his cell phone.

'That's kind of rude,' he thought. She hadn't thanked him, he didn't care much, really; but, she was still rude. Just before taking his gaze off the girl's figure, she raised her cell phone towards him and smiled genuinely at him.

"Thank you, sorry to take me a while to respond. I'm mute."

Oh.

"You don't have to apologize" he replied. Internally he felt ashamed, never thought the girl in front of him did not have the ability to speak.

She wrote again, Wakatoshi was just watching her. He looked at the other objects that were near her, a backpack, a pen and a coat. He noticed the coat for several seconds, trying to see which academy he belonged to.

Not recognizing the name, he turned his sight to the young woman. She didn't stop smiling at any point. Why was she smiling so much? Did he have something on his face?

"My name is Y/N. What yours?"

"Ushijima Wakatoshi" he responded by looking her in the eye. They were shiny, they kept showing him that kindness, that softness, that fragility.

Her smile gradually disappeared and then she got up. Ushijima stared at her. Maybe it was time to go, maybe it was a little rude to just stared at her, perhaps his tone of voice and the way he watched her was intimidating.

But again she smiled at him. She wasn't near him, but she wasn't far. Her body was small, dwarf in front of him. And she looked so small, so fragile.

He watched her write something on her cell phone and looked back at her figure. Fragile. Everything in her yelled fragility at her. Weakness. Delicacy. He blinked and it was the longest blink he had ever taken. When he opened his eyes, he could read what had been written.

"I'm sorry if this seems very strange, Ushijima-kun. Can I draw you? I need to draw someone for an art project. It doesn't matter if you don't want to, I'll understand. I know you think I'm weird, " the last sentence gets stuck in his head. Had she done anything to give her that perception?

He didn't know what to answer. He had already wasted a lot of time in his distractions; but he didn't want to leave because if he did, immediately the girl in front of his eyes would think that his words are made, when they don't come close to reality.

The ace looked for a second at the cherry trees and then directed his gaze to Y/n.

"Sure."

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

"Wakatoshi-kun, you were a little late today", Tendou's voice drew him from his thoughts. Blinked a couple of times as I drank water "Did you get distracted?"

"I was with a girl."

"WHAT?!" they all turned his head at the same time towards Ushijima, he continued to drink water with great peace of mind. His gaze remained static even as Tendou began to question him about this supposed female figure who had caused it to arrive an hour and a half late to practice.

Yes, he had been with Y/n. And surprisingly, he didn't want to go back to the practice because the young woman's presence was addictive. He was not a person of many words and she could not speak, but, the silence was comfortable, she was kind and quite interesting. Her smile was still drawn in his mind delicately, a beautiful smile. Such a delicate smile, so fragile.

He remembered when she showed her the final result of the drawing and Wakatoshi could not help but smile. She was talented and she knew she was. She looked so happy, so euphoric when she began to thank him for allowing her to draw him. He also noticed that the young woman liked to talk quite a bit. He ended up telling her that he was the captain of Shiratorizawa's Volleyball team and that at the same time he was the ace. He immediately noticed that the girl with e/c colored eyes did not know what she was talking about, so he explained to her.

And she ended up stopping at that point to smile at him. Ushijima swore that he felt that his world stopped when she saw her tiptoe to caress her hair. Didn't you think it was disgusting? He was a little sweaty and that definitely wasn't the behavior anyone would have with him. Ushijima was intimidating, he's intimidating.

"Do I have something in my hair?"

"No, I'm just trying to say you're doing a good job. Toshi-kun" It didn't take long to write those words to him, but Ushijima could feel his heart start beating uncontrollably by the nickname.

Toshi.

Even after the break was over, the smile, the scent, the figure, everything Y/n kept cornering him in his thoughts.

He didn't want to leave because he wanted to keep seeing her smile in contrast to the sakura flowers falling near her. She looked very beautiful, well, and Y/n is beautiful, he had noticed that the moment she smiled at him for the first time. That's why when she gave him her cell phone and asked him to give him his number, he found it strange. Shouldn't he take the first step? But he wasn't upset or uncomfortable, because he wanted to get to know her more, no matter what barriers there might be due to her condition.

How could I deny her anything?

When he was finished, Tendou continued to ask him. He kept it going to finish answering because he was already asking something else. After he finished changing, he checked his cell phone and his eyes revealed a little glow full of emotion as he read Y/n's message.

His companions watched him and couldn't believe what they saw.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was smiling while writing something on his cell phone.

"Oh" Ushijima did not react to the redhead's words. He pressed to send and then raised his sight. The third-year-olds watched him with his eyes wide open, trying to observe what he had written "Do you like someone, Wakatoshi-kun?~"

When Ushijima looked up, he immediately felt his cell phone vibrate.

"One second, Tendou"

"You definitely like her"

"She's a pretty interesting person," he replied. He kept walking until he stopped, observing Shiratorizawa's entrance.

"Aren't you afraid to get in trouble, Wakatoshi-kun?~"

He hadn't told Y/n that they had dorms, so she thought they'd walk home together. He couldn't let her go alone at that time of night.

L/N had told him that she also belonged to a club, specifically the art club; Ushijima was unaware of many things besides volleyball, so when the girl started telling him about the national performances, the boy was clueless. She took her time to explain, and he understood immediately. Her dream was to be able to be known for what she liked, and that her disability would not stop her. She told him that sometimes no words were needed to show her feelings, that she learned it in the roughest way, but that she did not imagine what her life would be like with the ability to speak. A lot of things would be easier, and a lot of things wouldn't have crossed his mind, maybe he wouldn't have had a chance to meet him.

That's why she was working on extra hours and creating new pieces of art to be able to have an outstanding place. Hours and overtime. Although, he couldn't criticize her. I'd be hypocritical.

But... always go alone at this time of night at home?

What if someone hurt him?

Or did something happen and you disappeared?

What if it rained at night?

No. He wasn't going to let any of that happen, he would never allow that something bad happened to her.

"It won't be more than 20 minutes," he observed Tendou and he showed him one of his most playful smiles.

"I’ll cover you, Wakatoshi-kun~"

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

Six months later.

"Y/N" Ushijima turned to look at her and smiled delicately at her "Would you like to come to practice today?"

Her face conveyed so much joy, so much emotion, so much affection. She nodded quickly and lunged down so he could hug him. Oh, oh, oh. Wakatoshi's heart began to tremble inside his chest, it was too much for him. Having her so close, her scent covering her clothes, her smile and eyes shrinking by the size of her smile. Anything that had to do with her made him fragile.

Yes, Wakatoshi had taken the steps after Y/N. But he had managed to ask her out on different occasions and finally declare his feelings for her.

The confession by the h/c-haired girl had been written in a letter with cherry blossom petals adorning her. Wakatoshi's heart was so moved by his words and by the little drawing of him she had made.

How could he not reciprocate her feelings, if he was already more than in love with her?

"Uhm... yes, I think we should walk to Shiratorizawa, " he mentioned a while later and the e/c-eyed girl separated from him and took his hand without thinking about it. Oh. He watched her and smiled again, catching his fingers with hers and began to walk.

They had become very close. Too close. L/N brought out the sweetest and most delicate of the giant Ushijima. His serious and intimidating shell was softened by the girl's displays of affection. Next to her, he became so fragile, so sensitive.

And Y/N was so sweet, so beautiful. Feeling her hand against his, damn. She was so small. L/N looked at him and kissed his cheek. Ushijima slowed to process the situation and began to blush slowly, turning his gaze away as the young woman laughed. Her laughter was so soft, so precious. The first time he heard her laugh, he was impressed, but soon the girl had told her that it was normal to articulate sounds, but that talking was impossible for her. Deep down he was grateful for the fact that he could hear her laugh. The memory was attached to his memory and he could not help but smile before looking at her again.

"It doesn't matter that you can't talk. It's the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard" Wakatoshi's words came out instantly, sincerely, transparently. The girl's eyes opened with surprise and she began to turn into a crimson red who immediately worried the third-year young man "Are you okay, Y/N? Do you feel bad? Do you have a fever?"

He was so damn clueless sometimes.

However, he hadn't introduced Y/N to the team yet, was it right if he did it today? He hadn't warned anyone and they were in front of the gym entrance.

"Y/N," he looked at her and brought her face a little closer to his "if you feel uncomfortable or is too much for yourself, just tell me. Sometimes... Tendou is very noisy." The young woman smiled at him and nodded softly, before pressing his lips against his in a very short kiss. Ushijima didn't get used to sudden displays of affection, but he loved them. He smiled and kissed the crown of his head before entering the gym against her.

The sounds of the balls hitting the ground on the finishers and the sound of the sneakers sliding down the wooden floor filled Y/N with curiosity. She was still holding her boyfriend's hand as she inspected the place with her gaze. Here, the person that trained day and night. She smiled watching Ushijima, yes, he was special.

Then, before she knew it, Wakatoshi blocked one of the balls that may have hit his girl. And Y/N blinked several times, had not noticed, she was so focused on admiring around her and Toshi. He observed Ushijima's countenance, his frown was slightly frowned upon. He looked upset. He was upset.

"Wakatoshi-kun~" And Y/N turned to where she heard the voice, he was a tall, red-haired boy with a peculiar smile. His eyes remained closed as he called Ushijima "I thought you'd never make it~”.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Everyone stopped.

Immediately, Y/N felt like all eyes were positioned on top of her. Ushijima kept watching Tendou with a frown. The boy was blinking as he looked at Y/N, he began to circle around them, looking at his uniform and also his appearance. Tendou looked at Wakatoshi and smiled.

"Oooh, Wakatoshi-kun~, you didn't tell us that today you would bring Y/N-chan" the confused young lady and looked at her boyfriend.

"I didn't plan on it."

"Uhm, Y/N-chan, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, I'm Tendou Satori" Satori reached out her hand and Y/N smiled at it. Ushijima observed how one of his hands was still intertwined with L/N's and the other was being caressed by Tendou's.

He didn't like to see that.

"Tendou" called him, he let go of Y/N's hand after several friendly squeezes "They almost hit Y/N while practicing."

"I apologize for that, Y/N-chan" the redhead leaned in apology way and then smiled at the girl "But Waka Waka was there to protect you, didn't he?” The young woman smiled and nodded. Tendou looked at her curiously "Hey, Y/N-chan, wouldn't you like to meet the rest of the team? Waka Waka looks a little... possessive"

Ushijima only cast a short look at him as he gently squeezed his partner's hand. She blinked a couple of times in confusion and then watched everyone else. He noticed an older gentleman trying not to scream as he rubbed his sien with his hands.

"I remember telling you that, if you were going to be distracted, that you were going to be for a girl..., BUT I DIDN'T MEAN TO BRING HER TO DISTRACT OTHERS!"

"I apologize" Ushijima bowed his head "This is L/N Y/N" observed all members of the club "My girlfriend".

Oh. Now this was interesting.

They tried not to corner the young woman with many questions, but Ushijima had forgotten to tell them that Y/N had a special condition and that she did not speak. At first no one understood until the girl pulled out her cell phone and started explaining that she was actually mute. That caused much more curiosity in all the team members, even the coach. Wakatoshi had managed to approach someone who did not speak being a person of few words.

How ironic love was.

After several questions, mostly how they met as Wakatoshi was very secretive and had not gone into much detail - and had not informed anyone that officially Y/N was his girlfriend - L/N sat next to the coach to watch them practice.

Ushijima was on top of his 100%.

He wanted to show you how good he was, he wanted her to be proud of being her partner. Wakatoshi was completely in love with the girl and wanted to give the young woman plenty of reasons for not leaving him. And Y/N looked at him and clapped every time he managed to score. She was delighted at how her boyfriend looked like a fish in the water while playing. She couldn't help but smile for the rest of the set, he looked so calm, so passionate, so happy.

She couldn't help it and took a picture just as he jumped to score, the sound that formed when he hit the ball was intimidating. Her smile grew more. She will draw it later.

"L/N" turned his head towards the "Ushijima has a lot of future" the coach said “He's one of the best" he looked at her "He's showing the best he's got because you're here" the girl looked at Wakatoshi and smiled "But, he gets distracted sometimes at practice" his voice got a little harsh towards the girl "And it also takes a long time to get to the club. I have been struck several times by the times he arrives late to the dorms" And Y/N looked at it surprised. Wakatoshi hadn't told him anything about this, "You may be his motivation, but at the same time you're a distraction that, unfortunately, may be taking him away from his dream."

There was no more conversation after that.

For some reason, Y/N felt a knot in his throat, she couldn't say anything, of course, of course she couldn't. She looked down at the screen of his cell phone, looking at the photo he had just taken of the boy.

His dream.

He may lose his dream.

Was she really hurting Toshi's future that much?

Then it all began to reproduce in her head. The days when Wakatoshi sought her in her academy, they sat on the bench where they met and stayed like this, smiling at each other. Or the times when he told her that he needed to go back to the club and that she would do the same. And the times when he left the club late and went to the park so he could take her home which was 15 minutes from Shiratorizawa. He was wasting valuable time for her.

Ushijima was wasting time for her.

It was her fault.

She felt the tears form in his eyes. Her jaw began to tremble. No, she couldn't cry. Wakatoshi was happy, and if Wakatoshi was happy, she should be happy. It doesn't matter that she had to step away little by little so she can encourage him to get his dream.

Practice ended an hour later and Y/N didn't know how she didn't cry when Ushijima approached her to hug her and tell her he was happy that she could watch him play.

"Very well" said the coach "But it could be better. How about two more hours?"

"I will take Y/N home and return to practice," Ushiwaka declared, the others looked at him and smiled lightly. The coach looked through the corner of the young woman's eye.

Maybe it's taking him away from his dream.

She said goodbye to everyone with a friendly smile. Ushijima hadn't stopped smiling, he was sure L/N had seen how good she was, he was sure the young lady was proud, that she was impressed. He was sure he had shown him that he was not at all fragile.

"See you later" Ushijima looked at Tendou and the others.

The young woman remembered the coach's words and looked at Ushijima, quickly wrote on her cell phone and spread it to her.

Ushijima shook his head.

"It's a little late, " he looked at her, there was some concern in his eyes. The girl's heart started to hurt "I won't let you go alone."

"I'll be fine, Toshi. It's not dark yet, I promise when I get home, I'll send you a message! :)" Wakatoshi sighed and looked at her again.

Ushijima swore for a second to see the girl's eyes begin to drown in tears, but she was quickly said to lower her gaze to pick up her things.

"Okay”.

Ushijima read the message several times. Trying to process what the girl was trying to say. He felt a pain in his chest that he had never experienced before. He began to write very slowly:

"What do you mean, why did you call me Ushijima? And Y/N we can solve this. We can do it. Yesterday, was it too much for you? Please--".

He stopped.

And Y/N had sent another message.

"I don't think it's good for me to be in your life. I'm a distraction to you."

He deleted the message he was writing.

"What do you mean?"

Ushijima's hands began to tremble as he waited on the bench. He hadn't gone to practice; He hadn't even warmed up. He’s been waiting all day for the girl, all day worried, all day thinking about the things that might have happened to him not to accompany her at night.

"I'm taking you away from your dreams, Toshi."

"I'm a distraction to you."

"Ever since we met, you've been wasting valuable time you spent with volleyball. It's all my fault. I don't want to take you away from your dream, I know how important it is to you."

"Please, Toshi. You know it's true, you know you've gotten in trouble because of me."

"I'm so sorry, Toshi."

"Goodbye."

It broke.

Like when they crashed a glass into the ground. Like when they cut the bonds that connected soulmates. As when the fragility of the cherry petals was in their hands and so delicate that, with a grotesque rub, they broke.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the miracle boy, began crying after reading the last message sent to him by the woman he loved.

And he couldn't answer it, because it was true.

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

It's been two months.

It was December.

And Y/N watched the snowflakes fall. She smiled very briefly as she sat on the bench where she had met Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of Japan's top 3 aces. She pulled out his drawing book and let out a sigh.

She had not managed to get to the post on ledge that she so desired. After she broke up with Ushijima, things for her went from bad to worse. She missed him so much and she could only think of him. All her drawings, it was him. Photos she had taken of him, pictures he had sent to her. Even pictures of the two of them together. Photos she found in magazines and photos she didn't know who had taken them, but each and every one of them, was in her drawing book.

She watched with some nostalgia around her. Usually Ushijima would come running, finishing warming up and then they would be seated while she gave him all her affection, even if he was bathed in sweat. Remembering it made her heart move a little with dissatisfaction from within. But this was for him, she had turned away from him so that he could improve, so that he could achieve his dream.

And yet, deep down, she felt that she had done something wrong.

Tears began to come out almost immediately, as if it were a method of personal attack against herself. When she cried, she could only think of him. In his smile, in his immense hands against his, in how he whispered "I love you," in the times it was just the two of them and the cherry petals.

She hunched over as he began to whine, covering her face. This was all her fault, if she hadn't sneezed, if she hadn't been a mess, if she hadn't loved him from the first moment she saw him, perhaps, just maybe, none of that was happening to her. It was all her fault, absolutely everything.

She couldn't recompose herself; it was all Wakatoshi. Wakatoshi had consumed his life in every aspect, and she loved that. She loved it so much that it hurt, it hurt so much.

But what could she expect? It wouldn't work anyway. There was an immense barrier to communication. She, for her part, could not speak. Ushijima knew no sign language and was a man of few words. It would never work, never.

But they would have made it work, because they loved each other so much, and she knew it.

Their sobs were so sad, so horrific. She tried to stop while covering her mouth with one of her hands, but only managed to get both parts of her body to start shaking uncontrollably.

She deserved all this, for taking all that time from Ushijima, for getting him into trouble, for being a distraction.

All that she deserved.

"Are you all right?"

Oh.

Oh, no.

It was that thick voice that had fallen in love with her. Oh, no. Not again, not again.

L/N Y/N was petrified as she looked up to meet Ushijima Wakatoshi in what she deduced was clothes to exercise in winter. Tears felt like crystals against his cheeks, silly whining still coming out of her lips.

He looked pretty bad. Ushijima could look the same as always, but his eyes, his eyes looked so tired, so sad.

"Y/N..."

She didn't know why at the time she tried to articulate his name, she tried with all his might, but only incoherent sounds came out. Tears began to increase. Everything was wrong, Toshi was looking at her in her worst condition, she was sure that Wakatoshi thought she looked pathetic in that state.

"Y/N" he called her again and approached the bench as fast as she could to sink in front of her, took off his gloves and began wiping her tears with her hands. How she missed his hands. Wakatoshi squeezed his lips into a straight line as he kept removing tears for tears "I don't want to hear you cry, please, " his voice sounded intimidating, but it seemed to break "I beg you, don't cry, no"

"A... A…To... hi"

Wakatoshi's eyes opened wide and observed her in amazement. She was trying with all her might to say his name, even if she knew it was impossible. Ushijima couldn't take it anymore and took his face in his hands so he could kiss her. It was short, but it felt so good.

"I love you so much Y/N, I haven't stopped doing it, not even for a second..." his voice began to break as he advanced. His figure began to tremble in the girl's arms. His whining increased "Forgive me, I let you go, I should have fought for you, I should have..."

Now, they were both crying.

The two held on as they cried on the same bench where they had met. On the same bench where they confessed their feelings, on the same bench where they gave their first kiss, on the same bench where Ushijima let her go.

That damn bench that held such fragile memories.

Y/N only embraced it more forcefully, afraid he'd let her go.

Ushijima took a deep breath to separate a little from her and start making movements with her hands looking her in the eye. L/N's lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to have you back, Y/N" He learned sign language. Y/N at that point was already a disaster in tears. Had he learned for her, since when was he learning? She didn't close his eyes as the boy kept going, without hesitation of his movements "I don't care what the reason was, I'm going to fight to get you back and I'll never, ever ever let me make you cry. I just want to hear your laughter, I just want to see your smile and if you ever cry, I want it to be because you fulfilled your dream" Y/N wiped away her tears while covering her mouth, trying to suppress her sobs "You are my dream, Y/N. Don't take away my dream, I beg you."

L/N shook her head and removed her hand from her mouth. He gave her the most beautiful smile he could give her.

"I love you so much, my love"

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

Three years later

"Y/N-chan~" Satori's voice began to distract her in so many ways, changing from one subject to another so quickly that he didn’t let her think. She sighed with a smile; he would never change.

Y/N and Ushijima were still together. Today, she was walking with Satori on the same path that led to the place where she had met the love of her life. Tendou distracted her by telling her to look at the non-existent bird attacking a non-existent cat. The reason they were walking around was simple, Ushijima had a little week's vacation and asked her to meet there.

"Y/N-chan~" Satori stopped in front of her and smiled "You know? Wakatoshi-kun has become very happy by your side, now he smiles a lot."

She smiled in response mode before Tendou went on.

"That's why Wakatoshi-kun decided to do this~ " he quickly plugged her eyes and helped her walk "Trust me, Y/N-chan"

She felt euphoria coming out for every pore of his body, what was going on?

Suddenly, they stopped and Tendou stopped covering his eyes.

Ushijima was using a sack for some reason and was sitting on the same bench where their story began, in his hands there was a small box and, on his face, rested a beautiful smile. Upon hearing them he looked up and Y/N's eyes filled with tears without me telling him anything.

Tendou sided up as he smiled at his friend. Ara, ara~

"Y/N" his voice no longer sounded hard at all, he sounded sweet, affectionate. The e/c-eyed girl immediately observed the article in her hands, her heart began to beat with a lot of force "I met you right here, it was exactly about 4 years ago. I don't regret being distracted by these same flowers that taught me that fragility could be so beautiful" Ushijima got up and approached her. He removed a petal that covered her face and continued to smile "Because thanks to them, I met the love of my life, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

His heart turned when Ushijima swelled with one knee against the floor and the other flexed in front of the girl. He opened the little box.

A ring.

"Marry me, Y/N" that was not a question, it was almost like an order, and she wasn't going to deny it. She nodded without hesitation and knelt down, hugged him with all his might as he began to cry with joy. Her face was hidden in the hollow of Ushijima's neck, he smelled so manly that she felt weak.

"DID YOU RECORD IT, SEMI SEMI?!"

"OF COURSE I RECORDED IT, TENDOU, SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"Ushijima-san" Y/N turned his face to meet Goshiki crying "and Y/N-san... congratulations."

They both smiled full of sweetness. Along with her, Ushijima had become too fragile, but he loved to be fragile if it meant being with her.

And it was perfect to be like this, as long as he was with her.