#she's still a jerk with ambitions

[drmaddict]

Patchwork

Summary: Henry becomes a father... Just not how he thought it would happen.

Word count: 2.160

Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, lots of fluff

"Six?"

"Six."

"Six children?"

"Well not biologically, but.... yes."

(Y/n) looked uncertainly at Henry. The blue eyes stared at her in disbelief.

"You have six children living in your house?"

She sighed. That was always the point at which every guy ran away.

"I understand if that's too much for you," she began. 

Henry shook his head still in disbelief, but grinned. "Do you ever sleep, or do you just get used to  sleep deprivation?"

She smiled cautiously. Didn't trust the peace yet, though. "To be honest there are two kids one 9 and one 12 and four pubescent teenagers."

He regarded her quietly across the restaurant table. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Did I say something wrong? I know my reaction may have been a little surprised, but I didn't mean to cut you in."

She relaxed a little. "It's just... Most guys run away as soon as they hear that, and that would really be .... a shame."

Henry smiled and shook his head. "I don't run away. I hate cardio."

That made her smile.

"But you'll still have to tell me how you get to adopt six children and teenagers.... And that as a single woman in her mid-twenties."

"It's like cats. Somehow I guess it doesn't stay with just one." She tipped her wine glass. "The first one was Jason. He was the son of my neighbors at the time and would come by my apartment every so often in the afternoon until his mother got home. One night he showed up at my door bleeding. His father caught him with make up and beat him black and blue. It took a while, but then he could move in with me. He's graduating from high school this summer. He has even been accepted to a make up school. He wants to go into film as a makeup artist." She smiled softly. "He's come a long way."

Henry curtsied in shock at the story. "Fatima is 16 and has been disowned by her family for not being a virgin. She has ambitions to study law. I don't think anyone will stop her from going to Oxford. Mike is almost 16 - next week - and grew up without a father and even though his mother tried everything, she has high level schizophrenia. She has been institutionalized and now lives in care. We visit her whenever her condition allows it. Mini - Emilia ran away at some point. We don't really know what happened. She is 14. Kamon is 12 and comes from a refugee family. His parents have been sent back to Thailand. We are trying to get a visa for them. Until then, I'm kind of his foster family. He and Mike are not officially adopted. Both love their family and do everything for them, even if they can't always be there. And Lilly. She is 9. Her family died in a car accident. No family member has been found."

She was silent for a moment and continued to contemplate her wine before looking up and looking at Henry.

"Henry... I understand if this is too much, but.... they've all been through enough in their lives and every single one of them has their reasons for making it hard for new people in our family. So if, against all odds, you say yes to this circus, know that it's not so easy to get out of it either." Her gaze became insistent. "If you leave me, that's one thing, but I won't do that to the kids."

Henry, who hadn't said anything all this time, took one deep breath and reached for her hand lying on the table. He smiled. "If they're willing to meet me, so am I."

Henry stood in front of a gigantic house. His house was already big, but this one surpassed it. Despite its size, however, it didn't seem ostentatious. It looked cozy and inviting. The word 'home' popped into his head.

Shouts and frantic footsteps sounded from inside. 

He pressed his thumb on the doorbell. Immediately, everything went silent.

The door opened with a jerk. A dark-skinned boy stood before him, beaming at him. From the colored eyeliner, he concluded that it must be Jason.

"Hello Mr. Cavill." he said in a noticeably loud voice.

Immediately, frantic footsteps sounded and he saw scattered bodies running through the background.

"Hi. Henry will do." he smiled.

"Come on in. I'm Jason. Ehhm... (Y/n) isn't here yet.... Mike had... They had to go to the hospital."

"Is he okay?"

Jason shrugged. "Normally, he is. Boxer you know... Tea?"

"Gladly."

He stepped into the house. It was swept as if empty, yet the traces of life could be seen in it. Self-painted pictures. Photographs. Various equipment for hobbies. Shoes in different sizes. And that was just the hallway. Henry let himself be led into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs. None matched the other.

"Mike had a match this morning. (Y/n) said he's already patched up. They're already on their way here."

Henry smiled. "With something like this, you should take your time."

Jason set the steaming cup down for him and sat with him.

Henry accepted it gratefully. "It's very quiet."

"Be glad." was all he said, sipping his tea. "I don't want to chase you away, but it's like human history here. The periods of absolute peace are relatively negligible." He ran his index finger over the rim of his cup and grinned. "And I'm one of the worst divas here. Just a warning."

The front door opened and a rumble sounded, followed by an amused giggle. "Sorry about that." a boy's slurred voice rang out.

"That's okay big guy. Come on off to bed." he heard (y/n).

"I'm fine!"

"That's because they drugged your ass off so you can't feel your face."

"Where's Ammy?"

"Mike you need to rest now. You can call Amber when you're in bed."

"Who are you?" A blond boy in a gray sweatshirt and swollen face looked at him from the doorway, aghast. "Who's that?" he turned to (Y/n).

"A friend Mike. That's a friend. Jason stop filming him!"

Still grinning, Jason put the phone away and turned to Henry. "Welcome."

"What's the dog's name?", Kamon asked him.

"That's Kal...like Superman." he smiled at the shy boy.

"I like Batman."

Henry rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh yeah, why?"

"Batman watches out for kids nobody else wants. Like (y/n)."

Henry smiled.

"I told you not to rummage through my things!" yelled Emilia down the hall.

Henry and (Y/n) sat in the garden each holding a book.

"I wasn't rummaging. I was getting MY eyeshadow, that you stole from MY room!" shouted back Jason. "It's not my fault you leave your lovey-dovey fanfictions lying around in the open like that!"

"You have no business in my room!"

"That being said - Tom Holland? Really?"

A splintering sound rang out.

"I guess that was the vase, then," (Y/n) sighed.

"I would have thought she was more of a Sebastian Stan type," Henry reflected loudly.

"How long has she been sitting there?" whispered Henry to (Y/n).

"Since this morning. She hasn't looked up from that book in five hours."

Fatima sat at the large parlor table surrounded by books, writing notes and index cards.

"That's impressive. Scary, but impressive."

Kal walked over to the table and nudged her.

"I have to study! Sit!" Kal obeyed immediately and sat next to her chair.

"She'd make a good drill sergeant," Henry grinned.

(Y/n) sipped her coffee. "You've never seen her in exam stress."

"This isn't exam stress?"

"This is relaxed studying."

Henry looked in shock at the girl with noise cancelling headphones. (Y/n) grinned into her cup.

 "They need more glitter!" determined Lilly.

Henry reached for the can of edible glitter and sprinkled more of it on the unicorn cookies.

"Like this?"

The little girl looked thoughtfully at the tin. "Like this."

Henry bowed theatrically and slid the tin into the oven. "All for your majesty." The girl giggled.

(Y/n) just watched with a smile.

Jason and Mike sat on the sofa grinning together at a tablet, each with headphones in their ears.

This wasn't normal. Even Henry knew that by now. He wondered if they were both watching porn. He'd been that age once, too. He knew what that was like.

(Y/n) came into the living room and looked over there shoulders at the two of them. She laughed uncontrollably grunting, but immediately suppressed it and came over to him.

No porn, he concluded.

"What about these two?" asked Henry, pulling her to him on the sofa and onto his lap.

"Just a movie," she grinned.

"What movie?"

She continued to shake her head with a grin and waved it off. Henry was very reluctant to be shut out. So he sat (y/n) down next to him on the sofa and stood behind the two teenagers. When he saw his younger self in a black hoodie grinning and holding up a tarot card, he groaned in annoyance.

The boys snorted indignantly. Henry looked defiantly at the display.

"Oh come on Sweet Cheeks! What's wrong?" asked (Y/n) with a laugh.

He looked at her with an intensity that promised she would pay for this yet. She could hardly wait.

"What's with the hair?" laughed Jason.

"It was in back then!"

Henry stood in the kitchen making coffee while there was the familiar bustle around him. Kamon couldn't find his second shoe, Lilly needed a certain T-shirt, Jason occupied the bathroom, Mike shoveled eggs into his mouth, Fatima just drank the coffee straight out of the pot, and Emilia hid behind a book.

He could hardly believe that over a year should have passed already.

They had grown close to his heart. He didn't want to miss the chaos at all. The last time he left for a job, it seemed almost eerie how quiet it was that night. He had told (y/n) about it over Skype. She'd just grinned and said those feelings liked to sneak up on one.

"Do you think they want me in their life?" he had asked her uncertainly.

She had only smiled. "Wait a minute." She disappeared and came back a moment later with a piece of paper. She held it up to the camera. "Lilly drew this for you today." It showed eight roughly drawn people. Under each one, in capital letters, was the name.... except for (y/n) and him. It just said Mum and Paps. Henry stared wide-eyed at the screen. "Please act surprised when you come back. It's supposed to be a gift.", she put the paper back down. "Are you crying?"

Henry had remained silent. He had only nodded.

He smiled at the memory. The picture hung framed in the hallway. It had become Henry's favorite picture.

"Car one go!", (y/n) called down the stairs.

The three mismatched teens got up from the table and walked to (y/n)s car.

Henry packed the last of the snacks into Lilly and Kamon's lunchboxes before he, too, packed them into his cat and drove them to school. Jason had a little break from make up school and stayed at home.

Henry came back earlier than (y/n). He waited patiently for her in the kitchen. Looked at the mismatched chairs and the photos on the wall. Photos that now included him. (Y/n) came shortly after him and dropped into her usual seat next to him. She reached for the waiting cup of coffee and dropped her head on his shoulder. "How did I do this alone before?"

Henry laughed.

"I mean it. Don't you dare leave! I can't take it anymore!"

Henry just smiled at her. He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of her. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. "I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life anywhere but with you and the kids. (Y/n) will you marry me?"

She looked at him with shocked eyes. "Are you sure?"

He nodded with a smile. "I want to take Lilly to her dance lessons. I want to be there when Jason gets his first jobs. I want to see Fatima come top of her year at Oxford - in law AND medicine." They both laughed. "I want to cheer Mike on in his competitions. I want to watch Emilia find the romance she secretly wants. I even want my heart to break when Kamon is reunited with his parents. I want to be with you. I want to be with the children. I don't want to run away. I want to be part of this family."

"You already are," she smiled, crying. She pulled him close and kissed him.

"Does that mean yes?" he grinned.

"Yes you idiot." she laughed.

[thesovereignsring-if]

The Empress is dead. The Throne is free for the taking.

Demo: Prologue 2 Part 1 (08/17/24)

EDIT: IF YOU PLAYED THE GAME BEFORE AUGUST 17 2024 YOU WILL NEED TO START A NEW SAVE.

The Sovereign's Ring is an 18+ dark fantasy game filled with drama and romance.

When the Empress dies without issue, you play as the youngest out of four possible successors to the throne.

Civil war is on the horizon. The other successors will stake their claim- but you’re the one who’s in possession of the Imperial Signet Ring, the sole symbol of the Sovereign’s authority and a relic of great mystery.

Choose your loyalties. Build relationships- or don’t. Tear them apart. Sabotage your rivals and pave the path to the throne for yourself. The choice is yours to make.

There are no right or wrong choices- only consequences.

CONTENT WARNING: The Sovereign's Ring is intended for an 18+ audience. The Sovereign’s Ring contains disturbing/dark subject matter that is not for everyone, such as graphic depictions of violence, gore, death, trauma, sexism, racism, poverty, misogyny, sexual assault/violence, child abuse/grooming, suicide, depression, alcohol more.

LINKS:

✦ Itch

✦ Ko-fi

✦ Patreon

✦Pintrest

Features:

✦ Choose the heir you wish to be, customize your name, gender, sex, sexual orientation and appearance. ✦ Choose between one of three backgrounds: Warfare (Soldier), Academic (Scholar) or Politics (Diplomat) ✦ An alignment system: Follow the code of law or follow your own. Decide the future- the Empire you wish to see and the ruler that sits at the top. ✦ Build or break your relationship with your older brothers. Help them realize their goals- or don’t. There is no way to make everyone happy ✦ Romance one of four love interests(and maybe a few secret controversial one(s))…or pine for unrequited love.

(Ages as of Chapter 1)

Duke Alberich Nibel Vagnyr | He/him | 26 | Male

Alberich is your eldest brother, who raised you after the death of your parents. He's an astute and charming politician. You love each other dearly. Despite knowing him all your life, you can never tell where his true ambitions and intentions lie.

Sir Sieghardt Nibel Vagnyr | He/him | 25 | Male

Sieghardt is your second brother and Captain of the Nibelhiem Heath Knights. Unlike Alberich, Sieghardt is a like ghost, often occupying the shadows in your memory. He’s a quiet and stoic person, but is loyal to your brother Alberich above all else. There is a weight he carries with him that no one knows. 

Eirik Nibel Neaera | He/Him | 23 | Male

Eirik is your only cousin, the son of your Father's twin brother. He still holds your family responsible for the death of his father and will do anything to avenge him. He's arrogant and hot-headed, but he's also resourceful. Despite being a jerk, he inspires great loyalty in the people who follow him.

Sir Griffin (Finn) Brynhildr | He/him | 19 | Male

A young boy from your childhood. He was a good friend- maybe even your first love, but you two have drifted apart over the years. Now he's a Nibelhiem Heath Knight and heir to a Great House. His passion is second to none and charges into every situation with enthusiastic sincerity- sometimes to his own disadvantage.  He hates Sieghardt with every fibre of his being.

Lady Linnet Brynhildr | She/Her | 24 | Female

Linnet is Finn's older sister and childhood friend of your older brothers. She's a part of the renowned Shield Maidens and harbors a flame for Sieghardt, but due to her family's ambitions, nothing becomes of it. Above all else, she wishes to serve her country and fulfill her duties- but must it come at the cost of her own happiness?

Prince Thea ana' Isadora Brigid | She/her | 18 | Female

A young Prince from the neighboring country of Brigid. Thea is one of seven children in line for the throne. She was a good friend and pen pal- maybe even your first love, but she stopped answering your letters one day. Her short stature and demure demeanor causes most people to underestimate her crafty nature.

Medea | She/Her | ??? | Female

The Wizard Rothbart's assistant. She's a woman of many questions and little answers. A flirtatious and beautiful woman, who is easy to like, but hard to trust. There’s something about her sincerity that makes you uneasy. Her smiles never truly meet her eyes.

Helios | He/They | ??? | ???

Helios is a great sorcerer of unknown origins with great knowledge of the occult and the Wastes. Aside from that, no one knows who the fuck this person is.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hello! I just finished reading all your writing.. i feel like your characterisation of coop is just so good!

Lately i’ve been fixated on how Cooper would feel about a plus sized partner.. (definitely not just because I’m plus sized myself)

Part of me feels his postwar ghoul self would be feral (pardon the pun) for a woman with a soft squishy body, especially a soft tummy and ass he can sink his fingers into, because someone like that would be so rare in the wastelands, and because it would be so different to his own physique

(Anon, I have a secret to share with you before we even get into headcanon territory; I'm a size 14-16ish, myself, so I definitely relate. I try to keep my reader-insert characters as nondescript as is reasonable in order to keep them accessible, but honestly? Every single character I've ever written is fat, or at least midsized. I feel like my use of words like "soft" and "plush" to describe them, plus references to tummies and bellies, might expose me a bit on that front. Thanks for reading and thanks for the ask!)

Prewar!Cooper Howard just loves women in general, all shapes and sizes. Big fan. He appreciates the female form in every one of its many variations. Back home, he knew plenty of bigger girls, curvier girls, and dated several before he met and fell head over heels for Barb. Once the two of them move to California, there's a noticeable decline in the variation of body types around him, and while he finds the women around him beautiful as well, he also finds himself sort of missing the higher concentration of softer ladies.

After she gives birth to Janey, Barb is pretty self-conscious about her body, but Cooper is quick to reassure her that she is just as beautiful as she was before (even moreso to him since she's grown softer in such nice places, frankly, but he doesn't think that's a proper thing to say out loud). She experiences a lot of pressure to be conventionally thin in her role as an executive, and while he supports her ambitions and what she wants to do with herself, it makes him feel terrible to see her so down on her body sometimes when he loves her (and it) so much.

Post-divorce, I think that a bigger partner, especially someone comfortable in their looks, their personal style, would be a welcome change to him. Like I said in my response to the question about him with a partner with body hair, I think he'd enjoy being with someone who wasn't so "L.A. perfect"; more authentic, at least to him.

He really loves a soft belly on a woman, and it's a treat that's been denied to him for so long. Of course, his favorite place to cum is inside you in whatever form he can get it, but he also likes to spurt all over your breasts and tummy, the sight of the mess cooling on your skin enough to get him going again more often than not. It drives him doubly crazy if you play in it a bit.

Also likes a good tit fuck. Likes it even more if you've got big enough breasts to do it while you sit on the floor in front of him. Getting to smoke a cigarette and sit back and watch you jerk him off with your tits is high up on his list of favorite ways to relax after a stressful day, especially if you tease the head of his cock with your lips and tongue.

Finds big nipples/big areolas very sexy; if you've got either (and definitely if you've got both), you might end up having to fend him off of your chest every once in a while with as often as he'll like to suck and lick and nip the poor things until they're all puffy and sore.

Enjoys using his ability to still pick you up and toss you around as a way to show off to you. It makes him feel virile and strong, so I hope you don't mind a little manhandling from time to time...

The Ghoul is always very pleasantly surprised to see anyone with some substance to them, physically; it's not necessarily that fat or midsize people don't exist, but the incidence of folks who are malnourished, stunted, and emaciated has certainly increased as the centuries have crept by.

He has always been a fairly lean and wiry guy, and life has given him more and more hard edges, so he adores a plush partner; round face, full lips, soft overall features. Big, soft hair, even. It's such a fascinating contrast to himself, to everything around him. The Wasteland is so harsh and strips every last bit of life it can out of every last thing that inhabits it, so to see someone so vivacious and supple...you are spellbinding to him before he even gets to touch you, to say the least.

When he does get to touch you, he wants to be respectful, trying his hardest to control his urge to rip your clothes away and grip your supple skin in his bare hands. He's trying so hard to reconnect with the more tender, gentlemanly part of himself, if it even still exists. But you seemingly have no idea how wild you drive him, how badly he wants to pin you down and feel your warm, pliable form beneath his, kind and sweetly flirty as ever despite how thin his self control is wearing. It's not long before the feeling he's trying to ignore consumes you both and he becomes intimately familiar with just how soft your body really is.

The man already had a breeding kink long ago, but it comes back with a vengeance if he meets the right person. He already finds himself drawn to your wide hips and thick thighs, but once he's fallen for you, once he's decided that you're his and he wants you to be his forever, they take on a whole new light. All he can think about his how good those wide hips would feel in his hands as he pumps you full, how beautiful your little tummy would look adorned with a baby bump.

Big fan of thigh-fucking, especially if you're not particularly rad-resistant; its a nice way for him to put you on your back, your legs on his shoulders the way he likes, pumping away at you in a way that feels natural without having to worry about making you incredibly sick or hurting you if he can't pull out in time. Or if he produces a lot of precum, which he is prone to. You both love and hate it, the head of him bumping and teasing against your clit depending on the angle, but never stimulating you enough to make you cum yourself. Fortunately, he's quite faithful about planting his head between your thighs and finishing you off once he's done.

If you are rad resistant, he still loves it; in fact, he loves it even more because he can fuck your thighs until he's about to finish, and instead of coating your stomach and mound, he can shove his weeping cock inside you at the last second and breed you, the sudden, wet heat around him making him cum even harder. Best of both worlds.

[pursuitseternal]

“More Than Just A Little Death:” Heavy Angst with a “glimmer of a happy ending”Dark Lord Astarion x Enemy Tav

Ascended Astarion x Tav | E | 4.5K of angst with a glimmer of a happy ending

Screen grab from @venenum-cadaverinus 🖤

Summary: Centuries of darkness under the rule of the Vampire Ascendant come grinding to a halt. The one being who knows him is bound in his dungeon. What unfolds will hurt, with a glimmer of hope at the end. Mind the tags.

CW: This one will hurt, Heavy angst with a glimmer of a happy ending, Major Character Deaths, Tragedy, Hate Fuck, Sworn Enemies, Regret and True Feelings.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

Centuries of darkness. Of soot and ash spewed into the sky to blanket the lands in thick, acidic shadow.

Lands coated in constant shadow at the command of the great mountains of fire he has constructed, a matter of dedication to his desire for power, his ambition to rule. Even diverting magma and sulfur from the Peaks of Flame was but a small step in his plans to darken Faerûn, to bring it to heel as he deserved.

These were the lands of the Ascendant, the lands made perfect for his rule, and the heart of his ever-reaching empire. Cities, empires, nations all fell before his strength, his armies of undead vast and allconsuming. Not even Lathander’s Blood or his Light or He himself could touch the forces and power of Lord Astarion. He was brutal, bloodthirsty, ruthless….

And always victorious.

His lands were a breeding ground of spawn and red dragons and other terrifying creatures of the dark. Legends recounted tales of blood and destruction and domination, that the Vampire Ascendant had a heartbeat but no beating heart.

The only one who knew that his heart really did once beat beneath his ribs was just brought to his dungeons, roaming in the shadows of his dark tower. As if he didn’t smell her, knowing that scent even after centuries. As if he didn’t know the dance of her pulse in moments of fear or determination or arousal…

Lord Astarion adjusted the clasps of his armor, for he knew better than to approach her unprotected and unarmed. Given the amount of weapons found on that still supple, lithe frame of hers, it was clear she had come behind enemy lines with one goal in mind.

To finish what she would have centuries before when she left his side.

Stepping into the barred cells and depths of darkness of his dungeons, his eyes fixed their gaze on her trembling in her chains. He let his feet fall loudly, let his breath sound a little louder than he was accustomed to in his own vampiric domain. But it was enough to draw her attention.

Enough to have her stare at him with all the vitriol and hate in her heart he remembered.

And it made him flash a toothsome smirk. “Come to kill me again, darling?”

She said nothing, her breathing just more ragged as he entered her cell, the rusting hinges shrieking as he pushed them open and shut them in his wake. Her nostrils flared, her arms jerked against the chains that hung her arms out wide from her shoulders.

“No warm words for your ancient lover?” he crooned, eyes glowing in the darkness as he rounded behind her. “Hardly like you to not use your tongue in my presence… for speaking or other things…” He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, the thin, dark material of her shift torn from the rough treatment she had already received just being thrown in here. His touch danced harder in the spots where her flesh poked through.

She held her mouth shut firmly, shuddering under his touch, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling so as not to catch a glimpse of him.

“Afraid you’ll fall for me all over again, my dear, if you look at me?” he rasped just beside her pointed ear. A snarl in his throat, he pulled her by her chin, chains rattling as he forced that still beautiful face to meet his stare. She was fury incarnate, eyes dilated with hate, teeth grit to feel his touch on her skin, nostrils flaring with every enraged breath. Shaking herself free she sneered up at his smirk of victory. “Ah, that’s better, just like old times,”

“Unhand me,” she hissed with a snap of her teeth.

“And why would I do that?” Astarion purred, leaning closer to stroke her filthy cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I have you right where I want you, right where you always have been meant to be.”

“Your slave, your prisoner?” she spat, flinching again, eyes like coals burning with hate in the dungeon’s dark.

“At my side, under my touch, commanded by my control,” he looked at her, face lifting in an expression of pure sincerity.

“You mean trapped in the darkness you’ve brought over this beautiful realm…” she made herself reply.

He went silent for a moment, something in his crimson eyes hardened at her accusation. Something shifted in the way his fingers brushed her skin. The way they clamped onto her shoulder to pull her shaking body flush against his armored frame. “You left me in the dark, Tav, you took my sun, my stars and moon when you left me… I took the same from this precious realm you saved just to make it even.” His grip pinched harder, making a gasp unwillingly escape her chapped lips. “I’ve made this world almost as shadowed as your heart, darling.”

Summoning her strength, she resisted his clutch, making herself stand up all the taller despite his force. “You only remade the world in your own image, Astarion… Only doing what you most desire.”

“Oh, perhaps you’ve forgotten after all these centuries,” his touch suddenly wandered over her collarbone, caressing in its warmth as it stole around her neck. “If I allowed myself to do as I desire, you wouldn’t be in some dungeon dangling from chains, covered in grime or clothing even…”

That got her hissing in her breath and pulling at her chains. “You had your fun with my body before I realized how much you deceived me, Ast…” she shut her mouth, almost clipping her own tongue.

The Vampire cackled, low in his chest, a sound so foreign even to himself. “What’s the matter, Tav? Can’t bring yourself to mention my name?” He kept laughing at that low pitch and staccato tempo. He drew up behind her body instead, a fist in her hair to pull that gorgeous neck to the side so he could hiss right in her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you cry it from your lips again as you used to?”

She crammed her jaw shut, tugging her hardest to break from his ironclad hold. A warm, wet tongue lapped up the direction of her artery, and her body shivered, even as her face contorted with disgust. “You have power over the whole world now… all because you lost power over the one thing you wanted more.”

“And what was that, darling?” He hissed against her rapping pulse before dragging his fangs across that alabaster skin.

“Me,” she snipped her reply.

And it just made him give that low, staccato laugh of purest malice. Her words slammed against that darkness in his soul, but he ignored it. Yanking her head back, he made those piercing eyes look into his wicked smirk. “Oh, my delusional darling…” he tutted his tongue, chastising her like a naughty little schoolgirl. “Let me show you the extent of my power, and you tell me if you think it’s truly an equal replacement for you.”

A snap of his fingers, a spell muttered under his breath, and they vanished into thin air.

Winds raced around them, no more than mist, hot and cold, racing through light and dark until he stopped at the top of his grand tower. Tav gasped as her body reformed, freed of her shackles, but crouching on hands and knees as she tried to catch her breath. He stood over her, crowding her so closely, the edges of his scarlet cape fluttered in her face. The hot winds whipped around them both on the parapet, stinking of volcanic sulfur and blood… and she tried not to gag. Panting, it took all her effort to keep her stomach from hurling. And then, his hand slipped into view, offering her aid to get to her feet.

A breathless, disparaging laugh managed it way out from her burning lungs. A sound he did not take kindly to. That pale hand slipped almost invisibly into her hair, yanking her to her feet. “As much as I love the sight of you crumpled and kneeling at my feet, there is something I wish you to see…” he growled.

His other hand framed her chin, forcing her to survey his lands, the shroud of his darkness extending as far as the eye could see. And her eyes flared wide. Not one beam of sun pierced his cover of darkness, not one tree grew in the mud slicks and shadowed city that spanned his domain. All was black and scarlet and golden, refracting the fires of a million torches and bonfires and the fire mountains themselves that burned in the distance.

“Tell me it’s not awe inspiring, the magnitude of my power. Hordes of dragons at my command, legions of spawn and soldiers, an army worthy of the Ascendant…. There is no realm I cannot take, no land I cannot claim under my rule.”

He released her hair, her face, drawing back step to survey her reaction. “And it could have all been yours too…” he sneered. “Tch, what a waste.” Those crimson eyes scanned her body, her frame shaking and weak, her skin dirtied and scratched from his warriors’ rough handling. “How far you have fallen, Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Instead of this.. weak being you are now, I would have made you my queen, my own vampiric bride, with all the right to rule and command at my side.”

“All I see is desperation, Astarion. A man so insistent on chasing power and domination he denied himself two things he loved most.” Tav leveled her clear and shining eyes at him. “Freedom… and sunlight.”

She heard his fangs snap, a growl in his throat.

She continued, “And why would I choose to be with someone so desperate for power, he turns his beautifully scarred back on burning that which made him… happy…” Breath froze in her lungs, she could feel it. That creeping, ancient longing that never quite disappeared over centuries. That haunting that still plagued her mind and heart of times that were simpler and loving.

Times brimming with freedom and sunlight.

He bristled, pulling her roughly to spin, to land against his chest. “I’ll just ignore the fact that you still think of the scars on my body…” he sniggered. “I’ll take it to heart you once cared for my happiness… and not that you probably still touch yourself to the memory of my skin on your skin, the feeling of those scars under your nails as I fucked you…”

Her muscled frame thrashed to be free, to loosen the bonds of his arms around her waist. “I do no such thing…” she hissed. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something so heinous.”

“Yes… I am heinous, fucking me would be totally… heinous…” he snarled the word into her ear, the heat of his breath bathing her skin hotter than the volcanic blasts in the distance. “Fortunately, I still remember the heroine who once was more than willing to do such… heinous things… I wonder if those same things would make her skin crawl now.”

His lips caressed her neck, making her shudder in hatred and fight to breathe. “Let me go,” she hissed and thrashed. “Monster… villain…”

Fists locked around her upper arms like a vice. “Oh, you always knew just how to talk so sweetly to me, darling.” With that, he held her firm, like irons and tighter than chains. “You really do hate me, don’t you?” He hissed, gripping her chin and bringing her lips just to the precipice of his own. “And here I was, ready to offer you one more chance to be mine, my own consort… my right—“

Her lips pressed hard against his, all hatred and teeth and heat on her tongue as she closed that hair's width of a distance. Choking her with his tongue, Astarion couldn’t get enough of that taste. Centuries of deprivation, she clearly craved it too. Her hands struggled beneath his grip, a grip he eased once he realized she was removing his armor, piece by godsdamned piece. He would help if he wasn’t too suspicious.

But his need and desire considered those centuries of command and restraint. He pulled off plate after plate too until there were none left. Then, he took the rest of that feeble linen of her shirt in his fists and tore it full open.

Her flesh was bruised and scarred, centuries of fighting had hardened her, marking her with her own brand of dark obsession. Glancing down at Tav, he broke away from their kiss, both of them wild and panting. For an instant, she looked so soft in the glow of his domain. That dead ember in his core wavered with a hint of life, that longing and vulnerable need… but he snuffed it out. Shoving her hard and fast with all his vampiric speed until her back hit the outer wall of his grand tower.

That same softness was gone behind her eye too. Teeth bared, she gripped his cock painfully hard through his leathers. “Same old spawn. So easy to still reduce you to nothing but whimpering need,” she hissed.

“Enough,” he ordered, hands pulling her torn breeches to shreds until he sank his fingers inside her folds with a satisfied groan. If he closed his eyes, it could have been a tree in the middle of a secret grove that he shoved her against, but he kept his eyes wide open, watching the looks of hate and lust and agony bloom on her sullied face. He watched her head get thrown back against the wall of his fortress, watched her cheeks burst into a deep scarlet blush from desire and shame.

“Fuck… you,” she gave a feral hiss as he freed his cock and sank it inside her one last time. Her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, and he showed no mercy, biting the air in his jaws as he fucked her.

Her head bangged against the stone walls, her back scratched against the rough black stone; it made her whimper, her voice such sweet music to his pointy ears as he rammed home deep inside her. Her hands clawed at his hair, yanking it at its roots to keep his fangs off her. It only made him chuckle low and villainous in his throat. As if she could stop him from biting. “Just couldn’t get enough of our late night trysts, could you, darling? Just couldn’t stay away from seeing my power? Now,” he hissed with venom in his voice, “now… I have… everything I wanted.” He gave a particularly brutal snap of his hips, making her clutch his body and scream in his ear. “Companionship and a little death…”

Tav laughed—laughed—-full throated and musical as he rode her into the wall. Astarion sneered, raising his head to look into those pricing determined eyes. “This is your everything… this?” she rasped, growing breathless with her own pleasure.

Strong, skilled fingers slipped between their bodies so he could claw and squeeze her breast. “Yes, this. My kingdom, my power, my enemy laid low… or just laid.”

She snared at the barb, every muscle in her body shuddering in consuming, blinding pleasure as she came. Her body had already given her away, though, she panted and moaned, her hands hugging at his neck instead of throttling or yanking.

If he only just closed his eyes… he could feel it again. Feel it too.

With a grunt, he shuddered, biting into his own arm so as not to pierce his skin, to give her that poison of his power and his venom to turn her into his. Not yet. Not until she was begging for more, for more of this, of him. Finally, his heart slowed, the pounding inside his head grew gentler. And he kissed her sooty cheek. “I’ve missed this…” he let the words that had reverberated in his mind since he laid eyes on her again out from his lips.

Pulling away, he gave a little smile, the kind where just his lips turn, equally and softly. The kind of smile he had given her centuries ago in his tent, on the road, before all… this. Turning his back, he looked out over his lands, tucking his cock back inside his trousers, savoring that scent of their coupling, faint as it was over the stench of volcanic air. He took a deep breath, that smile creeping across his face wider. “You know, darling, I—” He turned sharply, his hand twisting in a flourish….

Something long and sharp and metal sank into his chest. Tav’s eyes were wide, her hand firmly gripped on that long metal weapon. A stake. Summoned by magic, must have been.

“I…” she faltered, watching the lights in his eyes flicker, that haunting crimson glow starting to dim back to the dull and deep red she had once fallen in love with.

“You think I haven’t been staked before,” he gave an effort to laugh, that deep and sinister chuckle, but now it ended in a burst of coughing. Crumbling, he sank to the stone floor of the wall.

Two arms caught him, holding him on her knees as his body registered the pain in his chest. The numbness. Tav looked down at him, her face hard but not unfeeling.

Something warm and wet slipped from his lips. His fingers trembled as he touched it, pulling them away, their pale tips covered in blood. “You always knew how to make such grand gestures of love, darling, especially after such a rigorous… reunion.” He gave her body another long scan, her chest heaving and her skin blushing with emotion and exertion.

A bitter smile turned one corner of her mouth. “How else was I going to get you out of your armor, Astarion, aside from sex. You haven’t changed all that much.” She twisted the metal in his chest a bit deeper, blood soaking to the stones beneath them. “You may have burned the world, Astarion, but you burned my heart to ashes first. You called me unworthy, an ingrate, a waste and disappointment…” Her face leaned in closer to his. “You said I would regret leaving you more than anything I lived to regret when in reality… I only regret not coming for you sooner.”

“I said many things, including that the greatest crimes in this world are committed for love…” he tried to sweep in arm to gesture to his domain. But he hissed in agony. “I lied before, you know… I did this for you, to sate my hunger for you, to replace my lust for you with bloodlust for the world.”

“What…” Tav replied, taken aback. Her voice sounded eerily similar to words that still haunted her from their past. “Why? Why would you ever speak of… love?” she sneered.

“Because, I never stopped loving you… whatever version of love this dark and beating heart is capable of, that is…” he burst into another fit of coughing. His hand tried to grip the metal in his chest, even as his legs began to grow numb. He knew, as he brushed his fingers against it, this was no ordinary stake. But he was the Vampire Ascendant, even magic had its limits…. Surely.

He reached a hand for her trembling cheek. “Nothing is too late you know, not when a being like me… like you… can have eternity.” He sighed, feeling her warm, wet tears starting to leak from her clear eyes. Gently, he dried them with a soft sweep of his thumb as she leaned into his touch. The first time in centuries. Since his Ascension. “Stay. Be mine,” he whispered, voice thick with gravely need and wet with pain. Blood dripped from his chin.

“I’ll never be your spawn,” she looked down to the space between their bodies, both their chests heaving.

“Queen then,” his hand shook as she held her cheek tighter, trying to pull those quivering lips to his. “Think of how much fun it would be, darling. You can try to kill me every day…” he smirked weakly, “why not a little more death, everyday.”

She gave him a cold smile, watching as he noticed how his hand shook, the taste of blood thickening in his mouth. “I’m afraid I’ll only ever need this one attempt to kill you, Astarion.”

Those eyes forced themselves wider, the metal in his chest thrumming with magic.

“Infernal silver, a gift from our old friend Raphael,” Tav’s lips turned down, her eyes unable to meet his again, even as her tears flowed freely now.

He gave a laugh, a bit more blood coming down his chin. “That must have cost you more than a pretty piece of gold, darling.”

“My soul,” she jutted her chin out. “You’re not the only one to take a deal with a devil.”

He laughed, much weaker now. “Then this is it… you did it, my darling. And I have one last chance to ask you for a chance to talk…” He smirked, pulling her lips against hers just to feel her breath. “I just feel… awful. Nothing about this was simple or easy or meant to be, but I wish it was with all that’s left of my heart.” He winced, a wrack of pain shaking his body as he laid on her lap. “All I had to do was forget just how deeply I had fallen for you…”

He groaned as the pain grew too much. Only to feel her hand on his face now, her warmth steadying him, focusing him. “Which is where your dark and sinister plan fell apart, hmm?” She placed a kiss on his lips as they grew pale. “Same for me… I… I wish I didn’t come. I wish you had told me of your love before I…”

She choked on the words, readying her fist to pull the stake out. But he stopped her. “No leave it,” he ordered. “It will buy us a few more precious moments so I don’t simply bleed out all over your beautiful legs.”

Tav wished she could laugh, wished she had done things differently. “Now I don’t deserve any of these words, Astarion…” she let a sob escape from her lungs. “I have given you nothing…”

“No,” Astarion interrupted with a sudden and frantic burst of strength. “I am nothing without you… I never have been, darling. Even with power and realms on their knees. I only ever… ever wanted you. You… complete me.” The smile on her face was balm to his mortally wounded soul—a soul that would soon end up in the hells for all he had done. But for now, he would bask in the heavens of her arms and sun himself in the light of her smile. “I would have been worthy of you… or at least tried harder to be.”

Tav watched as her tears fell on his own pale face, his skin growing corpse-cold slowly but surely the longer she held him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She began to choke on the slick of tears in her throat. “Why didn’t you say.. something when you first saw me?”

“Because all you saw… all you knew was the monster you believed me to be. And so… that’s what I was for you. You wouldn’t have listened to words of love from a monster. At best I thought you’d say no again. More likely…” he hissed, holding the silver stake in his chest, “you’d run… a stake through my ribs…”

Tav gave a single, tear-soaked laugh, “You… foolish vampire.”

“You leaving me was… the thing I regret… more than any other thing I lived to regret…” A piercing cry, from his slacked mouth and he pulled the stake from his chest, blood gushing and flesh rending, wet and gory. “Looks like… I won’t be living to regret it for much longer…”

The ground shook, the wavering orange light in the distance from the volcanos began to burst brighter. Erupting with blistering heat, rocks and ash spewed into the air. And yet, above them, the shadows parted, the faintest beams of light from the sun began to seep through the cover of darkness.

The power of the Ascendant faltered as his breathing grew shorter, as his heart began to slow.

“I can’t, Astarion,” Tav held him tighter. “I can’t live with this regret now either.” Her chin shuddered as she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have killed you.”

“You should have,” he smiled weakly. “You gave me back what I denied myself… freedom and sunshine…” He looked up into the streaks of pale blue and golden beams that crept through more and more. “And you gave me that feeling of love once more…”

He pulled her face against his, his hand and lips cold once more against her skin. “This is a gift, I won’t forget it.” He began to close his eyes.

“Wait,” she shook him, clinging tightly so as not to let go. As if she could keep his soul bound to his bones. “Take me too. Poison me. Bite me.”

“Why?” Was all he could manage to croak.

“I’m bound for the hells too.” That silver stake in the blood beside them was more than enough damnation for her, too.

He gave a single, feeble laugh. “I was going to go this alone… but…” he hissed as the pain began to take him. “Come here then, darling.”

She placed her neck against his lips, those ancient scars from his fangs still tangible against his tongue as he licked her first. As he always had done. With one final grunt, he bit, letting his poison fill her veins as he managed a mouthful of her blood.

Rich and intoxicating, familiar and simply the best. The stuff of his dreams and nightmares. His world dimmed, his body too numb to taste her anymore. He took one last breath, gave her one last smirk. “You’ve never tasted so sweet… darli—“

He was gone, limp in her arms.

Not that Tav noticed, her own body numb and limp as she lost herself to the poison in her veins.

The earth cracked open, the clouds dispersed, and centuries of darkness and blood turned to mist in the light of the sun once more.

Light and sun and wind felt good on his essence as Astarion’s soul bound for the hells, ready to pay its price of 7000 for centuries of empty power and loneliness. But as his spirit flew, it tingled with recognition… the touch of another soul tangling with it.

One that knew him, that reverberated with pain and loss, with affection and connection—soul to soul.

No longer left in darkness as embers.

A spark of love that had laid dormant between them flamed back tenfold, as these souls streaked across the sky to their fates. Together.

Author’s Note: IM SORRY!! Sometimes you just need to purge the angst as a writer. Write some hate fuck and have a good cry

The next one will be toothrotting fluff to overcompensate 💞💞💞

Out of curiosity: scale of 1-5 🗡️, how badly did it hurt?

[mamayan]

Okay imagine this - (you don't have to do it, you can delete this if it makes you uncomfy, I love you and you have done nothing wrong ever) - but IMAGINE okay?

Bakugo Katsuki, The Dynamight, number two hero, and his child with you is quirkless (bonus if reader is also quirkless)

Imagine the disappointed ambition - he was so sure the kid would inherit his quirk or something similar, he was so sure - especially since the kid looks like Katsuki - and yet...

I guess I'm in mood for hurt-comfort 😔

Honestly, I see this affecting our dearest mama here, as it’s likely for Katsuki to really fall for someone after being a bully/jerk to them.

Imagine his quirkless sweetheart, desperate to please and impress at all times because they’re just useless without a quirk (thanks to his bullying in the past) and realizing their child inherited their quirkless gene?

Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugo x Quirkless Fem! Reader!

Growing Pains

cw: SFW • Language (R) • Hurt/Comfort • Bully to Lovers • Child Care (tis the season) • Pro-Hero Katsuki • Fem! Reader • Marriage • Katsuki learns how to communicate a little better

A child is a gift so precious one must always be careful never to forsake it.

That’s what his hag-mother always said at least. The endless joy though which his daughter brought truly lived up to her words though. A gift. A precious, incredibly tiny and fragile, gift he swore to never forsake as he held the bundle in his arms at the hospital.

You looked beautiful even after so long in labor. Joy painting your features and making his heart ache from the sugar being injected into his veins. The love and adoration in your eyes only making his resolve harden further, to protect you both and love you two till his last breath.

So what changed from that moment till now? As a normally happy rambunctious toddler sits in complete stillness with eyes wide in horror. You didn’t look any better, skin perspiration more than his own on a usual day, lip being chewed until the skin breaks and he’s forced to grip you tightly.

“Hey—,” his gruff voice wakes you up.

“I’m so sorry…” his brows furrow in confusion, your apology unexpected and odd.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” He feels the atmosphere in the room start to divulge, his child and you both acting as if you’d heard a cancer diagnosis and not something he’d already considered the possibility of. Of course he’d wanted his daughter to have a quirk, but it didn’t call for such a grave reaction.

“It’s all my fault… I’m so sorry baby…” the tears freak him out more, your tears flowing endlessly as you stare at him with such hopeless eyes he’s startled to his core. Dark garnet eyes widening as a sick feeling enters his gut, something churning he can’t even name. “I failed both you and our daughter, making her weak and worthless like me—,” He’s going to be sick for sure, the sterile little clinic room starting close in on him.

He’s Dynamight, number 2 pro hero, and only because shit for brains Deku was better with the media but still, he’s not sure what to do. How to fix it, as you hold your child and cry, asking for forgiveness from him.

It makes him remember every instance of the past he cringes and does his best to avoid thinking on. Every tug of your hair, every shove to the floor, every time he made you feel small for something so superficial as not having a quirk.

Your tears were endless, and they seemed to spur on his daughter as well, her little sniffles making him nearly enraged as the door creeks open at the worst moment and the doctor returns.

The woman’s sympathetic gaze make him want to punch her, the way she seems understanding and not offended as himself.

“It can be a hard acceptance Mrs. Bakugo, I’m happy to recommend some quirkless support groups for the two of you, then we can look at some family care plans—,”

“What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about? Support group? They don’t need a fucking support group, your raggedy ass bitch—!”

“Katsuki!” “Mr. Bakugo?!” “Papa?”

It didn’t matter, he wasn’t hearing words anymore, top blown and his tempter unleashed as he nearly blows the door off after throwing you both over his shoulder and storming out. Cursing the entire way, uncaring of the phones being pulled out and people whispering and recording. He’d get an earful from the agency but it hardly computed in his mind.

Your fault? It seemed clear enough it was his fault. When all he ever did was make you feel belittled for your quirklessness, small and weak because of it, and now what did it do?

It passed on to his own fucking kid. His fault. This was his fucking fault.

His own eyes were admittedly wet as he shuts you both up in the car. Making sure you both are buckled in safely before he nearly screams once he’s seated behind the wheel. He wants to scream more, yell and break something to deal with the flood of guilt and shame washing him like an old friend.

He never apologized, only pushed it all away like the bullying and harassment never occurred when he started courting you. He’d been in love with you, and that bullying was his sick revenge for making him feel so much adoration for a single individual.

His frame engulfs the seat, muscles taunt and wide chest heaving as he calms down slowly to your silent tears and wobbly bottom lip.

“Katsuki… can we not have any discussions with her in the car…? Maybe we…,” you lick your lips as you fumble over yourself like a nervous wreck in the passenger seat, eyes wide and pacifying as you give him a look filled with a plea. “—Maybe we could have her stay with your mother tonight?”

Because you think he’s angry at you and at her.

For being quirkless.

The most defenseless and precious people to him, the two he’d sworn to never hurt or mistreat, now looking at him with complete devastation and heartbreak. His daughter is never usually so silent and still, sitting like a little doll in her car seat.

He’d always been a confident man. Unshakeable and firm in his resolve because he refused to settle and let himself be anything less than the best.

For all he is though, he’s never felt more helpless and human.

You flinch when the first tear falls.

The sight just as jarring as the realization your child is like you.

Katsuki’s eyes widen before narrowing as he grits his teeth and bares them like a hurt animal, tears spilling as he slams his head on the steering wheel in frustration. The windows tinted and thankfully adding a touch of privacy he’s grateful for now.

“I’m sorry—!” It’s wobbly and hissed like a curse, his apology burning his throat as he forces it out. He can’t look at you as he wipes at his face, shaking his head as he clears it to focus long enough to repeat himself.

“I’m so fucking sorry—never, never did I think less of you ‘cuz you didn’t have a damn quirk—! I was an asshole, a piece of shit that didn’t know how to deal with my crush on you, so I fucking ruined it by picking on you.” His eyes are blood shot, kept wide to prevent anymore liquid spillage but the way his entire face and body scrunch up, it’s difficult to believe he’s able to stop himself on sheer will alone.

“Papa…?” It’s like a slap to the face when he looks over at his daughter to see a spitting image of you both in her, features more like him but personality following you in a way that makes him melt.

“Y’listen good,” he gathers himself up better as he addresses your daughter now. “You will never be less than anyone else, quirk or no quirk, y’hear me?”

“But—,”

“No buts. It’s not up for debate. A quirk doesn’t classify a person’s value. It never has. We just associate them with power when in fact, a bunch of useless quirk havin’ shit stains run the country. A quirk ain’t power kid, power is in will, and that’s all you.” He’s glad you kindly dismiss his slip in language, watching as her little eyes widen and well with tears too.

“So I’m not bad?”

“You’re the best damn thing that’s happened since I met your mom. I love your mom, don’t I? She’s great even if she doesn’t have a quirk. Strong and resilient, patient and smarter than I’ll ever be.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight it may break soon if he doesn’t release his grip.

Then he’s being met with you. Your arms wrapping around him, your own muffled cries in his shirt. His hands are around you just as quickly, pulling you into him as much as the small space in the vehicle allows, breathing you in and calming himself as he reaches out and unbuckles your daughter to pull her little body into the bear hug too.

“You mean it…?” Your whisper barely audible as he holds you both close.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

And that’s enough for this moment. While he’s not a great man, Katsuki truly never lies, sometimes honest to a point it’s painful.

This is a bittersweet pain though.

Dividers/ @cafekitsune

[flightfoot]

Do you think Luka was a doormat for Marinette? If so, how?

Sort of? One of the reasons Luka annoyed me so much during seasons 2 and 3 (Aside from Lukanette shippers having a habit of demonizing Adrien, Alya, etc), was that he didn't actually seem to have any emotions or ambitions beyond being there for Marinette, to the point that it felt like he was some imaginary boyfriend she cooked up. I really like to try to see things from other characters' perspectives, but when I tried to do that for Luka, I just felt like I was getting brainwashed.

Luka doesn't feel any emotions that would be inconvenient for Marinette in those early seasons, like jealousy at being a second choice, desire to actively compete for her perspective, or anything except wanting to patiently be there for her if she decided she wanted him, and complete acceptance without a hint of bitterness if she chose someone else. I'm not saying he should have been a jerk about it, but he's so chill and has so few problems that it feels inhuman. I far preferred the plotline with Adrien's and Kagami's relationship, Kagami reacted way more like a normal person who has wants and desires of her own. During seasons 2 and 3, the most that Luka was developed outside of his relaitonship with Marinette, is the 30 second clip in Reflekdoll where we see him assuring Juleka. That at least indicates that he HAS relationships outside of just Marinette.

That being said, Luka DID improve in seasons 4 and 5, if only a little. He's still more chill and accepting than I think is natural or healthy, but with his playing therapist to so many people in Migration, it's shown to be a "him" thing, rather than him inexplicably being warped around Marinette in particular. In Truth, it's shown that he IS bothered by Marinette constantly running off and lying to him, even if he's way more accepting about it than he has any right to be. He DOES feel hurt, even if he suppresses it.

Most importantly, he's given emotional baggage of his own, with feeling insecure and abandoned due to his father abandoning him and Juleka, not even knowing who he was. I love that as Truth, he actually got to be ANGRY at Jagged for that abandonment. And afterwards, there were several episodes that touched on his and Juleka's developing relationship with their father, giving Luka more of an anchor in the story outside of just Marinette.

So basically, yeah, I do think Luka's a doormat not only for Marinette, but really for anyone he cares about. He's good at standing up to random jerks, but not at standing up to those who knows don't have any malicious intentions, but still end up hurting him.

But I also think that with how the newer seasons have developed Luka, there's some interesting space to delve into WHY Luka feels the need to subjugate his own emotions, wishes, and desires so much - because it's been proven that he does have them, and doesn't just exist for any particular person's sake in the story.

[rollup2theparty]

—₊˚⊹♡ round & round! eunseok

❦ cold and aloof, it drives you nearly insane how difficult this man is to read. your blood boils at the thought of him, yet you seem to encounter his impeccable being in every spot of your mind. by some twist of fate, the two of you find yourselves trapped behind the locked doors after hours with nothing but fragile silence and a lot hanging at the tip of your tongue.

౨ৎ HIGHSCHOOL AU (fem!reader x s.eunseok)

⟡ enemies to lovers / mutual pining / forced proximity

⚠︎ minor angst / sfw

notes!! y/n is slightly embarrassing forgive me but she has it together i promise (NOT PROOFREAD YET)

cold and aloof, it drives you nearly insane how difficult this man is to read. from snoring through class or absent-mindedly staring out the classroom window, as the reigning rank 5 and class president you cant seem to figure out how this privileged jerk seems to not have a single care in the world despite being 4th from the bottom. his desks and lockers overflowed with snacks and flirty post it notes from his many admirers, and he doesn't seem to care. not like you were unpopular yourself, you never let the admiration get to your head but he? he's an inhospitable, cold blooded pain in the ass who conveniently has a face sculpted by the Gods. a face you find yourself thinking about a lot before you go to sleep (angrily, of course). he is a glass half empty person with a muted demeanor and you always thought of yourself as a person with a lot of love to give. really there is no better combination in the face of this earth. your hands are itchy with the urge to poke at him until his face explodes, or do basically anything to see him show emotions for once but your pride reprimands you to sit still.

the 6pm rush hour trip could give anyone a stroke, thats why you avoid it at all costs (its totally not because you know eunseok rides the 730pm bus after his basketball practice). your day starts and ends with his figure, a few seats in front of you on the 0119. how "unlucky" do you have to be to be stuck on the same commute to and from school daily? oh the disdain for his unchanging figure. every single day without fail, he sits next to a window with two wired earphones plugged in each ear, head off into space. a brawl could ensue and he would still be seated there, perfect unmoved. like being pulled in with a magnet, your pupils could never seem to wander elsewhere, even when foxy shy freshmen giggle as they hand out their phones in hopes of a connection. how can you erase this blurring unwanted regard when he haunts your every breath? your blood boils at the thought of him, yet you seem to encounter his impeccable being in every spot of your mind. sometimes you wished the bus would crash into a pole, maybe that'll stop you from thinking.

______________________________________________________________

friday mornings always caused your heart rate to fluctuate, it flutters with the thought of a weekend of glory ahead of you. but today its beating hard for a different reason. you scan each passenger a multitude of times, yet you can't see the sight of him. he's a no show. your brain scrambles for possible explanations, 'his parents gave him a ride? he got up late? he's home with a fever? gasp he's on his death bed?? no, he moved halfway across the country to be with his secret lover?? god no'. manually, you shut down your brain's intrusive notions and instead you force out a sigh of relief. yeah, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. the school festival was coming up and as a proud student council member, you had a lot to prepare for and everything would be made easier without a constant mind interference.

"attention, all students are expected to be dismissed by 530pm due to the forecast of tonight's upcoming thunderstorm, expect school doors to be locked by 6." the muffled voice over the intercom sends the classroom into a frenzy but everything other than your half done event proposal was mere white noise. your were ambitious by nature and by the work of some deity, today your mind was on focus mode, not even the clutter of joy behind you could get you to lift your head from the word file on your laptop. you were invincible, typing in the speed of light. you were at an intellectual high only to be washed down low with a light tap on your desk. breath halting, you were ready to give the coarse, senseless dimwit a good mouth beating until you lock eyes with his.

"y/n. im late, please hand this to our homeroom teacher." his voice departs from his lips in a monotone as he places his tardy slip on your desk.

"me?" you ask, almost hopeful.

"admin staff said to give it to the class president."

"oh! yes of course, i'll hand it to mr lee during recess, if thats okay with you. do you need anything-"

"thanks." frigidly, eunseok halts your ramble with a flat bread smile and a close up view of his back as he walks away.

no this isn't the first time he talked to you. he apologized once when he accidentally poked you with his umbrella at the bus stop, and another time when water bottle made you trip during recess. he remained reticent even when he bumped into your shoulder in the cafeteria, only offering a slight dip in his head as an apology. granted he doesn't actually speak to anyone beside his friend group, today marks the third.

oh you were in a constant bind, like a swing that tumbled from one side on another with the passing wind. do you like him? do you hate him? you two barely spoke, barely interacted but he called you by name. 'y/n'. oh you're aware you sound borderline delusional and psychotic but the ring of your name will forever be intimate. no one, not even your subject teachers or closest friends ever refer to you by 'y/n'. it had always been 'class president', nothing more nothing less. you've been crowned as the classroom's leader since elementary school, at this point there should be a ceremonial plague with your name engraved on it, thats how often you had the throne. people say the main thing that ties a human to their identity is their birth name, well this position is yours. you hear the title more than anything else, at one point you wonder if that should be what would be written on your headstone. so why does your name sound so natural when it rolls of his tongue?

your mind was balancing on a rather precarious tipping point when a reality check crashes onto you. every second you spend on this superficial distress is a second wasted. you were sitting there mouth agape, fighting a dilemma you didn't physically have, over some guy who barely acknowledged your existence when mid year examinations are soon and the school festival counts on your ability to drive it to success. you are a standalone piece, confident and able. a crush? unrequited love? some things are just so minuscule in this great world of troubles. you drag yourself back to earth by the hair and untangle your bundle of thoughts, you had to focus on what was important.

by lunch time, you were a changed man.

“hey, did mr lee get my slip?” he questioned as you crouch by your decorated locker at the far corner of the room. without missing a beat, you nod soullessly and wander back to your seat. but not before you look into his eyes. there was something more than an empty stare, yet you wasted no time jumping into conclusions. you could no longer drown yourself in an pool of wishful thinking

______________________________________________________________

not even a split second after the ring of the dismissal bell and you were out of your seat, making a bee line through the chorus and chaos of the narrow hallway. the pop up notice declaring your impending doom gave you adrenaline like no other. '5%', the glaring red battery symbol taunted you to break into a sprint. your campus was the size of a local mall but the only decent place with electrical sockets was the desolate east wing library. does this make any sense? absolutely not. even while bolting, you make time to write up a mental note to file an official complaint to the office.

you shut the unnecessarily heavy door behind you and in the nick of time you manage to breathe life back into your computer. with 30 minutes on the clock, you knew you could finish up the paper in 20, giving you a perfect 10 to pack up and leave before they lock up. your epiphany of plans is interrupted by a trickle of footsteps and the bump of a book to its spot on a bookshelf. you were never one to believe in ghosts but then and there your heart was tied up into a knot. maybe all the tales told by the bonfire last camp season finally got to you. your skittish hello echoed through the airtight room to no avail. would this be a life changing episode about your first ever encounter with a ghostly apparition? while it would make for a good application story, you silently beg with your life for any possible logical explanation.

from shelf to shelf, you tiptoe across with your breath held tight. 3/4 your way into the room, you manage to convince yourself it was nothing but the sound of the rumbling, worn out and abused air conditioner. yet you don't stop checking (for good measure). as the tip of your toes hits the floor of the final shelf, you feel the fear finally catch up to you, it was as if the room is closing in, you feel the motion in your gut as the world around you spins in a blur and like clockwork, the lights turn off. in an instant, the blurry pandemonium crashes into a black purgatory of nothingness.

a rock is now permanently lodged in your throat and you struggle to swallow the saliva that has run dry. you scream as if an invisible knife sliced your heart open and your mouth goes numb. the muscles holding up your limbs are forced to halt and you fall to your knees. you swear if anything else happens, you would melt together with the ground to form nothing but a puked up puddle of a mess. together with the prerequisite drizzle to the forewarned rain, a tap to your shoulder almost sent you running for the heavens.

"y/n?" there it was, again. the same word, the same intonation of voice. the arms that wrapped around your knees as you crouched fell back and you finally muster up the courage to look up.

this was all either a figment of your hallucination or that by some twist of fate, eunseok was standing over you. somehow, through a series of (un)fortunate events, you came to a quick conclusion that the latter was true. hesitantly, you pull yourself together and got up to your feet with the help of his offering hand. it seems that even in a situation like this, your heart can't help but flutter at thought of his touch. your dedication to a love life of abstinence down the drain just like that.

you only manage to mutter a subdued "thank you" before rushing to the door for some air. you've studied there enough times to know the door is a pull not a push, but no matter how hard you tug on the handle, the obnoxiously large gateway just wouldn't budge. your heart pounds against the safeguard of your chest as you feel the hot air of his steady breath on the crown of your head. he approaches your side only to be greeted with the same futile attempt over a shut door. they must have locked up early unbeknownst to the both of you when you lost your mind over a pseudo shadow encounter.

sometimes life throws out a wild card and traps you behind the locked doors of the school library after hours. no amount of knocking, yelling or pulling on the shut knob of the oak door could save you from this ticklish torture. with the gush of the pouring rain interfering with cell service, your sanguine shot at dialing any number on your phone also lets you down. you flounder to the ground with your back against the wall, your energy depleted and your hope ran slim.

"we'll have to wait until the morning staff clocks in in the morning." to your disbelief, he broke the fragile silence.

eunseok took the spot across from you with his back against a collection of encyclopedias. you briefly message your parents in hopes that the signal would come through when the shower starts to fade. out of his black nike heritage backpack, he pulls out two bottles of peach soda and an uneaten sandwich only to tear into halves, mindlessly offering you each a piece. does he not know how staggering each and every one of his moves make you?

"the gs25 egg sandwiches and this sparkling drink are my all time favorites, thank you" you chirp, in effort to kill the stuffy air.

"i know, i got it in the convenient store across from our station" he muttered, unthinking.

his brazen declaration made you choke, your esophagus begs to breathe as a piece of toast hinds its entrance. your brain instantaneously flashes back to the plastic bottle that would sit on the right corner of your desk after recess. you always assumed it was an underclassmen braving declaring their interest but now you've come to realize that you have never expressed your interest in it anywhere else other than during the long waits at your bus stop.

whatever bit of rationale left in you begs you to not get ahead of yourself. you, however, takes it as a green light to make conversation.

"hey, do you know what major you're choosing for college counseling?"

"child psychology." eunseok's answer startles you. you were guessing finance or accounting, something to match his logical disposition.

"but my grades are unsteady so im unsure." he says in passing.

"let me tutor you." you offer with vigor and he nods near automatically, you were almost sure you could see him fight a smile.

"we take the same bus home, we can review a bit on our way back. only if you would like to of course, i can come up with a learning plan."

he beats his reddish flush to speak, "can we start right now? we have time to kill." you softly tap the space next to you twice and he gets up before you even finish the first.

the two of you have never been in such close proximity of each other. you have always been in his orbit, but it was never enough to make contact. if eunseok was the unwavering earth and you were the persevering moon.

you learn that he's been there since free period, tasked to set up the new influx of books as a punishment for being tardy. you also learn that he couldn't make it on time because his white poodle, charlie, required immediate veterinarian attention after hurling all night. in the world filled with phony personalities and kids doomed to mediocrity, your heart fluttered at the thought of someone with genuine, authentic convictions. you revise literature devices and math formulas for hours, nonetheless his eyes never lost focus. your unimpeded voice brought him more clarity than any high paying academy ever could.

the storm reaches an all time high as the clock strikes midnight, you can't help but stretch out your limbs in exhaustion as your body dozes off to sleep. but who were you kidding? despite the physical need to shut your eyes, your brain could only beg to stay still.

a shift.

you could hear a soft shuffle but you wouldn't dare open your eyes. all you could do was sense his body moving closer to yours. his hands reaches out to delicately push your head to rest on his shoulders.

you hitch in breathing.

if only humans could communicate through telepathy, or you were mythically born with a divine skill to read minds. maybe then you would finally see how smitten he was all this time. only then would you know how he kicked his blanket, restless with apology when the point tip of his umbrella pricked your skin, or how he stopped bringing his litre tumbler, afraid you would fall, or how he fought his anxious silence only to miss the chance to express his sorry when his shoulder grazed yours in the dining hall. you were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own, you never noticed his nervous tick of biting the inner corners of cheek as he gives himself a peptalk to finally call out your name.

"thank you, for giving me a chance." his whispers only for himself to hear. despite your desires and inhibition, you reluctantly fall into a slumber, with a inkling feeling this conversation won't be your last.

by the time the sun makes it's daily appearance, his frosty demeanor fades and you awake to his blazer as a blanket for your knees and a newfound tenderness for one another.

[scaranation]

Hey! Can I request something about Zhongli refusing to find a partner for himself due to him being an ex archon and a literal dragon (though only half of it) found reader who just landed in liyue in a quest to expand the business reader started in their very own nation, but zhongli found out that reader was also a dragon in living among humans and took interest upon them cuz apart from dvalin, he hasn't encounter another dragon for millennia

That's all ♥️

Thank you for this I had so much fun writing! Sorry this took so long I completely forgot what an inbox was 🥲🥲 (i’m not sorry abt the title tho)

༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘

Pairing: Zhongli x GN!reader

Content: fluff, broke Zhongli

After ages of being amongst the only dragons he knew of, Zhongli finally finds another like him - a person he begins to hope he can pursue more than the trivialities of mortal love with.

“Hm.” Zhongli leaned back in his seat as he stared at the paperwork in front of him. A new business had recently entered the Liyuen market, specialising in gifts. It was an admirable scheme - the enterprise had taken over many small souvenir businesses, rendering it a prominent influence in Inazuma, the region from which it’d been started. Furthermore, the business was also listed as being part of the gift giving and floral arrangement markets, allowing it to merge multiple companies whilst still abiding by competition laws. Zhongli nodded to himself. Truly, the one who’d headed this ludicrous venture would’ve had to have possessed great ambition.

It reminded the man of his days as a young archon - the youthful drive and greed spurred on by his draconic traits.

“Zhongli! Are you ready? We’re going to meet them now.” Hu Tao’s chipper tone jerked Zhongli out of his thoughts.

“Ah, yes.” He gathered the files on his desk, checking the time. They were supposed to have left ten minutes ago for a meeting with the aforementioned business in hopes of forming a partnership - after all, a floral arrangement specialist was undeniably beneficial to a funeral parlour.

“My bad, I appear to have lost track of the time. Hopefully our soon to be partners aren’t too phased.” Zhongli opened the door, before stepping out after Hu Tao. She only laughed, waving her hand nonchalantly as the two proceeded to the arranged location.

-

“Nice to meet you, Director Hu.” You stood up once your guests finally arrived, grasping the funeral director’s hand to shake it.

“It’s a pleasure. This is our consultant, Zhongli.”

You glanced at the man standing behind the director. A piercing amber gaze, glinting like ancient cor lapis. Despite his shrewd gaze and the way he carried himself - as though he’d been here for millenia - he looked to be a youthful young man, with a pleasantly defined face. You shook away the thought. You hadn’t met another dragon in thousands of years, and of all professions, why would a dragon resort to working as a consultant?

“So, about our potential partnership.” You broke the eye contact you realised you’d been holding with Zhongli, beckoning him and his boss to sit at the table.

“Ah, yes.” Zhongli opened a folder as Hu Tao began to talk, and so the meeting finally started. Between Hu Tao's thinly veiled business ambitions and Zhongli's shrewd remarks, you found yourself preferring the latter. His voice possessed a certain soothing quality, almost making you lose your edge. He talked as if he'd experienced the same meeting countless times before, making suggestions you would've never thought of. With Hu Tao's negotiating and Zhongli's articulate guidance, the exchange flew by. With another firm handshake, you parted ways with Hu Tao and Zhongli, your assistant leaving work early. Both the funeral parlour director and consultant certainly had an interesting character, and the negotiations had gone amicably beyond your expectations.

Similarly, Zhongli also left the meeting in a good mood. He was almost certain you were also a dragon, which piqued his interest greatly. The calculating gaze you'd levelled at him, and the quick-witted contributions you'd made to the meeting. You couldn't possibly be as old as him, but you had clearly experienced much of Teyvat.

Zhongli sighed contentedly. To meet another one like him... Would be an honour indeed.

-

“What do you mean? These antiques have been professionally verified!” Zhongli sighed as the store owner in front of him spluttered in defence.

“Ah, if you say so.” Zhongli only turned away, unbothered with involving himself in such mundane conflict. He'd decided to take a walk through the harbour and indulge a little in the frivolous joys of mortality, and wanted to preserve his high spirits for longer.

“Wait, young man! What about this necklace? I’ll sell to you for half price, I’m sure your partner would love it.” The store owner made one last attempt at landing a sale.

Zhongli chuckled to himself. He hadn’t taken another lover for ages. Somehow, it simply wasn’t the same to commit himself to a mortal, despite the vessel he’d taken on. Something about the way humans loved was inherently fleeting, unlike the millennia-long romances common amongst dragons. The ex-archon couldn’t bring himself to be interested in a short, fiery burst of superficial passion, and he hadn’t met another dragon - aside from Barbartos’s friend - in ages.

Before Zhongli could retort to the store owner however, a new voice cut through the air.

“Even at half price, that necklace is nowhere near worth how much you’re demanding for it.” You stepped forward, tutting.

“What? This necklace was taken straight from a chest buried in Guili, and polished into this state. The fine embossing proves it. Clearly, you have no eye for quality.” The vendor was turning red. Zhongli turned his gaze to you, amused.

“The embossing work on this is indicative of a technique used long after the Guili area was inhabited in its prime. Furthermore, this material appears to be the smelted remains of lower quality ore - hence the dull gleam. If you wish to swindle customers, at least do it more convincingly.” You ran an unappreciative finger over the necklace, flipping it over in your palm. The store owner snatched it back, seething.

“Well, if you don’t believe in our authenticity, you may as well leave.”

“Of course.” Zhongli, sensing the vendor was becoming exponentially more irate, quickly grabbed your arm and led you away. His grip was firm, yet undemanding. A strange warmth emanated from his touch, prompting you to glance up at him in surprise.

“That was some keen observation. Are you perhaps interested in the history of Liyue?” Zhongli asked, releasing you.

“No, it was merely some… general knowledge from my first hand experiences.”

“You were alive back then?”

“And I’m assuming you were, too.”

“Hm, you would be the first dragon other than myself and Dvalin that I’ve met in quite some time.” Zhongli’s eyes gleamed. You cocked your head, until you found the consultant’s hand enveloping yours in a heat that was almost familiar - like the broad warmth of a sun baked stone.

“Come on, it'd be a shame if someone who'd come all the way from Inazuma didn't have the luxury of seeing Liyue's more authentic stalls."

You nodded, slowly curling your fingers around the man's hand, or at least as much as you could - his hands were quite a lot larger than yours. The contact was nice and unforced, unlike the awkward times you'd had to touch humans. It simply wasn't the same, as with them, it was more like holding a delicate glass. Mortals were so fleeting, their lives so precarious.

After winding through the bustling streets of the harbour, the two of you arrived at another stall selling ores.

“Which one would you like? They seem to be of high quality. I’ll purchase one for you, as a gift.” Zhongli glanced over the assortment of brightly coloured jewels.

“Oh, you really don’t have to.”

“I insist. It’s only proper for me, seeing as you’re a fellow dragon.”

“Alright then, I’ll take the one on the far left.” You gestures towards a lump of noctilucous jade. The lustre suggested it was relatively valuable, but not expensive enough to make you appear impolite.

“That’ll be four hundred mora.” The vendor smiled.

Zhongli slipped a gloved hand into his pockets, fumbling for a while - but not in the way a broke person would. Rather, he did it with a practiced grace, leading you to doubt he had any financial troubles at all. Given their long lifespans, dragons usually amassed much wealth.

“Ah, it appears that I’ve forgotten my wallet. How improper of me.” Zhongli chuckled lightly. You blinked a few times, exchanging a shocked look with the vendor, before reaching for your own wallet.

“I’ll take all the items on display.” You said. The vendor hurried to wrap up all the stones, handing you a relatively heavy bag.

“My apologies, it seems I’m still not accustomed to the mortal way of life. Using mora… What a difficult thing to get used to.” Zhongli mused, although he didn’t appear to be embarrassed at all.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning the man. Dragon or not, most had to be well-acquainted with the currency, especially if they were a citizen of Liyue.

“I believe I forgot to mention, I created mora. Hence, actually using it in practice is quite foreign.”

You spluttered in shock. How could someone admit that they’d founded Teyvat’s primary currency so easily? Zhongli’s orange eyes gleamed in mirth at your surprise.

“Y-you’re… Morax?” You stood stiffly for a moment. You were standing and talking casually to an archon. You briefly wondered if you should bow, and began to kneel - before a firm hand came under your arm to hoist you back up.

“No need, I’ve given up that role. Not many know I was Rex Lapis. I guess by admitting that, I’m placing my trust in you.” You could only continue staring as you processed the information, unaware of the way his touch still lingered at your elbow.

“I…” You were certain there was some form of etiquette you were missing. How did people address deities? Lord? Your highness? Your area of expertise was that of commerce, not honourifics.

Zhongli laughed - the sound deep and comforting - gently closing your open jaw with his finger.

“I was going to gift the ores to you, but I’m scared that’d come off as more of an insult to the Lord of Geo…” You trailed off.

“I’d be more than happy to accept. You and I, we’re much more similar than you think. So don’t feel too pressured around me, alright?” His smile was heavenly. For a moment, you pondered the possibility that people had worshipped him for his handsome features, defined as if from stone itself. A heartbeat later, and you realised that much of the distance between your face and his had vanished. Panicking, you shoved the bag of goods into his chest and scurried away.

“It was nice talking with you! I’ll see you at the next meeting.” You blurted.

“I hope we’ll see each other before then.” Zhongli called as he watched your disappearing figure. He shook his head fondly, holding the bag in one hand and resting the other on his chin. You were so reminiscent of his younger, more draconic self. He could only attribute it to you and him being one and the same species - however rare it was.

Zhongli was simply happy to have found someone like himself - a person that shared the memory.

[fitgirlfemdom]

This fic is a continuation of this post. This fic contains weight shaming, humiliation, size shaming, mommy kink, premature ejaculation, and degradation.

"You should apologize."

If Logan was any self-respecting man, he would've slapped her across the face. He wasn't one, however, and he found himself on his knees in front of her, jerking his four-inch cock between his thumb and index finger, as she requested.

Their abnormal relationship had started as soon as Cassie found out Logan had the same interests as her. She was over nearly once a week after that, under the guise of hanging out with Logan's roommate. It was all a ploy--she just wanted to get her sadistic urges out, and Logan knew that. It wasn't a normal sexual relationship. He might never have gotten one of those ever again, judging by his size, lack of job, lack of ambition, and downfall into sheer loserness after graduation.

Because of this fear, he'd given up his dignity long before. He was just lucky to have a woman in front of him, in his mind.

"You seriously think I wanna see that?" Cassie pointed to his crotch, causing his face to heat up. "Look at me, and look at you. You really think I wanna see some fat pig's gross little cock on a Friday night?"

She was right. She was a complete bombshell. She might've been an ugly, overweight nerd in high school, but she'd completely glowed-up since then. She had no stomach fat to speak of, but her large breasts stayed through her weight loss. She had clear skin, luscious hair, a full ass--And Logan had nothing. He could grow a beard, but that was about it. Everything had dwindled since he lost that college scholarship. It was barely even comfortable to jerk off anymore with his gut in the way.

"I... I'm sorry," he muttered, continuing to jerk himself off, at her request. He was eye-level with her cunt, and he desperately just wanted to bury his face in her crotch. He didn't know why. He never used to eat girls out. It was too feminine and beta in his mind. He wasn't allowed to fuck her though--she made that very clear--so cunnilingus was the next best thing. "I'm sorry that... my dick's... small."

It came out awkward and disjointed. Cassie laughed, laughed so hard that Logan could feel his face heat up again. He still had no idea why that made the tip of his cock twitch. "Yeah, 'cause I know how you look at me," she chuckled, bending down slightly to grab the bottom of his chin. "You want to fuck me so bad. I know that's all you want. You just wanna rut your little cock against a pretty girl's cunt."

"...Yeah, I..."

"That's the thing--It's so small, you can't even fuck. You can only rut." She slapped the side of his face, causing his cock to twitch. The insult made him leak. He felt pathetic, and for some despicable reason, that made him want to shoot ropes onto the carpet. "You'd probably angle it right up against my lips and cum just from the sight."

"I... Uh..." He never used to be a prejac. He could fuck two, three, four rounds, for hours out of the day. It's when he started watching porn every night that his desires turned more degenerate, and for some reason, when he started gaining weight, his cock was a lot more sensitive. It wasn't uncommon for Logan's roommate Cole to bring his girlfriend home, and for Logan to have to hide his obvious boner from both of them, just from seeing her face. He'd cum just from touching his dick a handful of times, but he'd never admit it. If Cassie were to bend over and invite him to fuck her, he'd probably cum on the spot.

"Do you think I should let you fuck me?"

"N-No, I don't... I don't deserve it," he stuttered out quickly. He was taught that. He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve her cunt. She was a 9/10, and he barely considered himself human. "Nngh..." He was close. His face was so close to a girl's pussy, and he could feel himself salivating. He could hear her laughing at him, but he didn't care. He loved it. It made his cock twitch, and that's all he cared about.

When she brought his face to her crotch, beckoning him to enjoy himself, Logan couldn't hold back. He eagerly sucked on her clit, jerking his cock off with only two fingers just like she instructed, feeling himself getting closer and closer to orgasm. He'd already cum three times that night from her teasing, and she'd finally let him eat her out. He could feel tears forming in his eyes.

"Aw, look how red your little cock is," she cooed, craning her neck to get a look at it. It was difficult to make out beyond his unattractive and overfed gut, but it was so beaten and sore that she could manage. He was constantly leaking precum, his eyes flickering open and shut, rolling back up into his head before settling on the cunt in front of him. "That's how you have to touch yourself--with two fingers. Your whole hand is too much for you, isn't it?"

He groaned in response. He was at the point where rutting against pillows, or humping the air, was enough for him to cum. It'd gotten to the point where he'd thought about asking Cole if he could suck his dick, just to taste his girlfriend's cunt. That's how desperate he was for female attention, and he hated that about himself.

Cole had such a massive dick--twice the size of his own. He couldn't believe that his nerdy, awkward friend from high school would be banging bitches in the room next to him, but that was Logan's life--fantasizing about tasting the sloppy seconds off his friend's cock. There were times when he'd wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Cole and Anna moaning, and he couldn't help it--he'd just cum on the spot, right where he was sleeping, wishing he had such little restraint to walk in and ask them if he could watch.

"Do you remember? You were so awful to me years ago," Cassie snapped, suddenly grabbing him by the back of his head, his dark tufts of hair interwoven with her fingers. He stared up at her, beyond her large breasts and into her dark eyes. She slapped him, and he could feel little dribbles of cum leak down his thighs. He whimpered under his breath. "You called me everything. You called me a fat pig everyday. You spread such cruel rumors... You said I was unfuckable... But look at you. You haven't posted a picture to Facebook or Instagram in, what, years? Are you embarrassed? You know what you look like--Does it make you ashamed?" He tried to avert his eyes, but she gripped the back of his head tighter. "Just a pothead tub of lard freeloading in his friend's apartment. Just a loser porn addict. Is that all you are?"

"Yes..." he cried out, exasperated. Her slaps didn't hurt, but the words did. Honestly, they hurt so bad, he wasn't even really turned on. Suddenly he felt this massive weight in his chest, like the realization of being a failure had finally peaked. Had he really said those things to her? Was he really that cruel?

He knew the answer. He knew how he was. He knew the things he'd say to his friends, how gross he was about the girls in his class, how vulgar he could be--but that's just how guys were, at least to Logan. It never crossed his mind that maybe he was just an asshole, and everyone else didn't have the guts to call him out. He just never grew out of it, and when the never-ending assortment of girls in his daily schedule disappeared come graduation, he turned to other girls--digital girls, pictures of girls, girls he could pay to talk to him.

"You're slowing down," she said softly, pointing to his hand. Quickly, he started stroking faster. "Good pig. So gross... You really let yourself go, huh?" She'd bent down slightly, running her fingers through his hair softly. He mewled at the touch. "I'm pretty turned on myself... You think I should go down to the bar and bring a guy here? I need a man to... Sorry, I need a real man to fuck me right now."

He could visualize it perfectly, causing him to leak even more. Seeing Cassie with her legs thrown over some ripped, healthy guy's broad shoulders, getting her perfect pussy fucked with a real dick, moaning sweetly as she was plowed. Seeing her embrace the guy, and treat him with respect, and dignity, and using Logan's tongue to clean her pussy out after. That was the kill switch. Before he knew it, he was shooting ropes into Cassie's ankles, much to her dismay. He couldn't help himself. The image of her plump pussy lips wrapped around a superior man's cock just made him tremble.

"Oh God--Are you actually into that?" she said with a sinister smile. She held his face against her cunt as the orgasm rolled through him, his dopey eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he mindlessly licked. "I'd laugh, but that's so fucking sad... Isn't that sad, Logan? You couldn't even fuck me if you tried... You're alright at head, though, I guess."

The lackluster praise shouldn't have gotten to him like it did. It invigorated him. He interwove his tongue between each of her folds, tasting the salty tanginess of her cunt. He wanted to fuck her so bad. His cock could barely get hard, and it was so overstimulated it hurt, but he wanted nothing more than to just slip his cockhead in, and feel the warmth of her perfect pussy, her superior cunt. If he really wanted to, he could just go for it... He was larger than her, stronger than her, even at his current weight and piss-poor physique. If he really wanted to force her to take his sub-optimal cock, he could. Maybe that's why it felt so good to be on his knees.

"...Do you want to try?"

The question made his heart skip a beat. It'd been years since he'd even kissed someone of the opposite sex, and now he was being propositioned. If he hadn't cum so many times before, he would've precame on the spot. Nonetheless, his cock twitched. He gazed up at her neutral expression. Was this a trick? He kept jerking his cock, gulping down the spit in the back of his throat as he attempted to form a response. "I... Yes."

She paused. "I'm gonna set some rules then."

His heart beat faster. This couldn't actually be happening. "I, um... What? What rules? I'll do them."

She smirked, pushing him off her cunt. "There was something I always wanted to try, but didn't know if I was into... You're gonna call me mommy."

"Um..." His face turned a peach color. He watched a lot of porn where the girls called their hot co-stars "daddy," but he'd never heard of it reversed. It'd feel unnatural for him to say it, and awkward, and embarrassing. Then he remembered that if he said it, he could fuck her. "Okay, yeah."

"And you boys have a habit... You're never loud. You're too scared to moan." She pointed down at him. "I want you to moan so loud it's embarrassing. I don't want you to hold back at all."

"I-I can do that."

"And... I'm on the pill, but if you cum inside," she said, bending down to eye-level, "I'll find a way to make your shitty life even worse. Deal?"

"D-Deal." His cock twitched again.

They'd moved to the couch, where Cassie was bent over with her knees on the floor. Logan knelt behind her, feeling her ass with his chubby hands. He had to be a foot taller than her, but he still felt like he was in over his head. He might've been shaking. His dick was so swollen, and all he wanted to do was cum. That was his biggest fear--that he'd blow his load before he even put it in.

"You're gonna ask nicely," Cassie said, glancing over her shoulder. Her ass was perfect--round yet firm, the perfect shape. His first thought was that she looked like one of those fat-assed white girls in those POV porn videos, and that's when he knew he was truly too far gone.

"Can I... Can I please fuck you?" he stammered, his grip soft on her hips. If he stared any longer at the shape of her ass, he'd finish before he started.

"Aw, you're so cute," she said with a smile. It was so condescending, but Logan couldn't hold back. He needed to start fucking her, or he'd lose his shot. Her eyes widened as he slipped his cockhead into her saliva-covered cunt.

He wouldn't have been able to hold back if he wanted to. His moan was high-pitched, shaking, wavering--His voice might've cracked. It felt so good, with the tightness and wetness squeezing his poor over-touched cock. His cock was straight with no curve, less than five inches, and was, worst of all, thin. He knew she could barely feel it, but he felt all of her.

"Are you in yet?" she asked over her shoulder. She had to have known, but the comment made Logan's cock twitch like hell inside her. "You remember our deal right?" His face was toward the ceiling as he nodded. "How does it feel?"

"It feels... so good," he remembered the deal, "...Mommy." He could feel her cunt grip tighter around him. It made his heart flutter. He had to be honest. "I... I'm so close to cumming, I'm sorry."

"It's 'cause you're going too fast, pig." He stopped in his tracks. "Just stay still and let me handle it, okay?" He nodded.

She thrusted back into his cock, her cunt wrapping tightly from tip to base, as he knelt still, feeling her slowly envelope him over and over. She was moving painfully slow, but at least it helped. "Your cock's just not ready for pussy yet, baby. It's okay."

"Nngh..." He had to touch her ass. He just needed to. He wanted so bad to just start rutting against her, jackrabbiting his small cock into the folds of her perfect cunt until he spilled over like a desperate virgin. To a certain extent, he didn't even care if he only lasted less than a minute. He wanted to cum so bad. It was all he could think about. "S-Slow down."

She laughed. "I'm going as slow as I can." She really was, moving an inch a second. It didn't matter. He was really gonna cum in less than a minute, after years of being a pathetic incel, and why did that make his cock twitch so much? When he realized he was resting his gut on her lower back, he felt spurts of precum drip from his cock. He hoped she didn't realize. "I can't believe I'm having sex with some fat loser like you. I can at least get some gratitude."

"T-Thank you, Mommy. Thank you for fucking me," he stuttered. He was about to cum any second. He knew it. He was so close to cumming inside her, and that warning she told him rang in his head.

Making his life worse--Honestly, he didn't mind if she did that, as long as she was doing it. A part of him knew that if Cassie wanted him to gain a hundred more pounds, masturbate every second of every day, and cut off all his friends and family, he'd do it, and he'd love every second. A part of him wanted to empty his balls inside, just to see what the punishment would be. "Mommy, I'm close."

"Pull out then."

"I... I'm sorry, I..." He was thrusting. He couldn't help himself. He repeated, "I'm sorry, Mommy," as he came the most he had in a while, pumping his load into her wet cunt. She tried to squirm away, tried to fight back, but his hands were tight around her hips. His eyes crossed as he emptied himself out inside her, feeling the warm liquid drip out between her lips and onto her thighs--Twenty seconds of non-stop orgasm, as all he could hear were Cassie's protests.

"You're gonna pay for this," she said through gritted teeth, elbowing him on the side of the head. He pulled out, letting himself leak all over her skin. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

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[halogenwarrior]

All of the Animorphs main characters’ stories are very influenced by the dissonance between how they are perceived by the others from their perspectives, and the resulting roles they are fit into vs. their actual complexity, and I think it’s worth talking about Rachel from that perspective for a bit. The read the others tend to have on her character is that she’s ambitious; this incredibly confident, driven person who is dissatisfied with a normal life and just waiting for something better, which the war gives her. Cassie explicitly narrates as much in Megamorphs #4, while Jake says in #22 that she’s found her purpose in the war and he doesn’t know what she would do with a normal life anymore. Though I can’t remember the exact passages, I think the others think similar things of her. But when you actually look into Rachel’s character, you find that what they are misinterpreting as ambition/dissatisfaction with normal life/a desire to change the world and be a hero is actually two separate traits that, when put together in the same person, look a lot like that but aren’t.

First is that she fundamentally is a compassionate, morally dutiful person who feels she has an obligation to sacrifice and avoid the easy route to be good to other people. She doesn’t seek out situations where she will be responsible for many people’s well-being, but once she is there she goes all-in on it. When you compare situations in the book where one of the main characters has made an effort to be kind and do the right thing on a personal level rather than a “well if we save everyone on Earth from being enslaved that helps people by definition” level, she’s really only behind Cassie on this – feeling guilty about letting down Melissa as a friend and then risking her life on a mission to go out of the way to comfort her about her parents in #2, or in #1 when she says she cares about Tobias when he thinks nobody cares about him, even though they barely know each other. 

In comparison, the most Jake has is a vague idea that his goal in life should be to live an average life and “not be a jerk” without any real self-examination of how to do that, Marco is often rude on an interpersonal level and doesn’t seem to care much about being a good friend or giving kindness to someone who needs it, Tobias is more of a loner who is very morally passionate about the greater cause but doesn’t extend it to really being there for other people (this isn’t because he is inherently cruel so much as, when we first are introduced to him, he is barely getting by in life and doesn’t have the energy to try to be a kind, beneficent person on top of that, it’s only the revelation of a greater cause that gives him the motivation to care about something), and Ax, the only one who was in an official military, initially largely outsources his sense of duty to that system and its ethics and doesn’t make much of an effort to be a good person outside of that. 

I get the sense that Cassie and Rachel mutually recognize this quality in each other, and this is the reason for their friendship despite the narrative emphasizing how different they are and how weird it is that they are friends. As mentioned above, Cassie does interpret her as ambitious and “waiting for something else in life”, but she still sees that ambition as being prompted by a kindness and unshakeable desire to do good, as someone who doesn’t fall into the “mean popular kid stereotype” despite her looks and confidence. Meanwhile Rachel, when we see her thoughts about Cassie, similarly appreciates Cassie’s interpersonal kindness and steely resolve to enact it. Each recognizes, despite their many differences, the moral and aspirational idea they aim for in life in each other. Rachel’s manifestation of this trait looks different than Cassie’s. 

The second quality is that Rachel loves, in the moment, the rush of being confident and powerful. It’s something she gets in shopping for clothing and being able to pick out the right deals like a successful predator, and it’s also something she gets in war, in the heat of battle and crushing the enemy. It’s not about adulation (#3 notes with her gymnastics performances that she hates performing in front of a crowd), just the personal feeling of power. The others aren’t wrong that she enjoys battle in a terrifying way they do not, but it’s ultimately driven by a feeling in the moment, not an inborn sense that life is purposeless that leads to seeking out war in the long term. 

These two qualities combine to form a dynamic, a vicious cycle, with the rest of the group. When Rachel encounters something in life she believes is her duty to be a good person and help others, even though she doesn’t seek out such situations to feel special, she throws herself into it wholeheartedly (like as soon as she realizes she’s in a war now, in #4 I believe she changes all the inspirational quotations in her room to things like the Art of War). Combined with her general confidence, this leads to her throwing herself into danger bravely, which the others admire her for, and come to really need her in the role to give them the inspiration to risk their lives and untold horrors, which makes her play even harder into it to fulfill their need (even if she feels it is just a persona, as in #7 with her being “not brave, just blind”). This gets to the point where they, particularly Jake whose job it is to lead, use the others for their roles, and encourage them to keep those necessary roles, will outright discourage her from being anything else or showing any nuance or vulnerability (wee see this in #7 and #27). But the more she throws herself into danger and plays up her fearlessness and love of the fight, the more it triggers her love for the thrill and feeling of power of it which she recognizes is making her into her worst, cruelest version of herself. And the tragedy of it is that normally if she was recognizing she was a bad person in some way, she would stop everything to rectify that (like in #2 when she realizes she hasn’t been there for Melissa and immediately pivots to go as far as to risk torture and death to be there for her). But it’s precisely her commitment to goodness and duty that means she can’t this time, even if she knows the path is turning her into a monster, her friends and humanity as a whole still need her like this.  She is the type of character whose greatest strength is her downfall. This is particularly symbolized with her relationship with Tobias, who due to being a hawk is entirely enveloped in the Animorph life and can’t live “normally”. Every time Rachel goes out of her way to be there for him, she’s separating herself from the life she would want and reinforcing her worst impulses, and sometimes her narration expresses frustration with this, but she can’t turn away because he still needs her. 

And the others, even as they (particularly Jake) are parties to cajoling her into her role… as mentioned before, they don’t quite pick up on this. They mistake the long-term duty to do what’s right even if she absolutely doesn’t want it combined with the short-term thrill once she puts herself into a violent situation as one trait, a pride and ambition to be something greater than her normal life for the sake of glory. And while that combination of traits can look very similar (i.e her identification with hubristic classical heroes in #37), it’s fundamentally not the same, she expresses many times that she wants a normal life in the long term even if she enjoys fighting in the moment. She’s not constantly thinking about changing the world for the better unless the situation forces her into it (look at how she cares so little about politics that she doesn’t even know who her state’s governor is in #51, despite Marco expecting that she absolutely does and will chew him out for not knowing!) In fact, the whole point of #32 is that these are two separate traits, and when they aren’t put together she isn’t capable of the driven nature she normally exhibits, This misunderstanding leads to the others thinking she fully and uncomplicatedly wants all of this. 

It also leads to them underrating her compassion, often acting surprised or disbelieving when she shows it even when it’s not actually all that uncommon. For example, her statement that she cares for Tobias in #1 being followed by Jake’s narration saying that this is unusual for her. There’s also one quote about this I particularly like in #25, near the end when the Venber are killed. Marco’s narration goes  ‘ “Rest in peace”, someone said. It turned out to be Rachel ‘. It’s just one little line, but I find it fascinating how, even though the narrator Marco is attributing the rest of the dialogue completely normally, the idea that Rachel is capable of this solemn compassion is so against the image he has of her in her mind that he isn’t initially able to realize who said this, and that is really telling to Rachel’s dynamic with the rest of the group and how they view her.

Cassie and Rachel’s types of compassion are not the same, and that’s part of why the latter’s isn’t recognizes. Cassie is not just kind but diplomatic and able to keep calm in interpersonal situations, emphatic about the things she cares for most but willing to humble herself to get others on the same page. Rachel, on the other hand, comes from a place of confidence, willing to care but not to bend for others, and also a lot of anger deriving from that duty and compassion – towards those who harm others, like the Yeerks, for example, like in #38 when, realizing the Andalites aren’t coming and there’s no hope, she wants to at least take as many Yeerks down with her as she can and avenge humanity. Cassie, meanwhile, doesn’t let this passion for morality and justice lead her to revenge and instead goes in the opposite direction, seeing no point in killing if there can’t be a direct benefit of saving someone from it. And Rachel can just be plain angry and grumpy for reasons that aren’t about noble compassion, like when she is physically hurt (like #11 when she goes on a rant about the rainforest due to almost being eaten alive by ants). And most ironically, her anger and bitterness grows precisely when she is put in a trap where she can’t be a good person no matter what she chooses, where leaving makes her be uncaring and not doing her duty but staying will gradually turn her into a monster. This can be seen in #27 where her frustration at having to turn down T.T, both for himself and the normal life and escape from her darkest impulses he represents, because she owes it to Tobias, leads to her snapping at him and rejecting him in an especially cruel way, even though internally she feels compassion for him and doesn’t believe what she says. 

And that’s really the core of Rachel’s nightmares and breakdown in #48, and the rage and defiance she feels at Jake in her dreams. It’s not just the surface level of paranoia that her friends see her as a villain and hate her and anger at being controlled when she runs wild. It’s rage at being used as a soldier to fulfill a role, being outright criticized and belittled when she is anything else, and doing so willingly because it’s the right thing to do, only for them to turn around and hate her for the very thing they wanted from her and see her as the ”bad guy of the group” for whom they can separate out all of their criticism of the dirty and immoral parts of war while never questioning their own role in it. It’s a rage she can’t let herself express in waking life because she knows her duty is to follow Jake, but she can definitely have subliminally in a way that shows up in her dreams. And it’s also a fear that whatever her excuses, whatever her intentions, it doesn’t matter because she really is a monster, she really is morally worse than the others, and it’s just pathetic to insist otherwise.

This particularly hurts her with regards to her relationship to Cassie. The thrust of their arc is that, as I said earlier, they start out despite their differences, recognizing the same kindness and unflinching moral conviction in each other as in themselves, but that same conviction leads them on entirely opposite paths. In #19 Rachel expresses frustration with Cassie quitting the team because it shows her worst fear is becoming like Rachel herself – how can Cassie care so much more about feeling for her own sake like she’s a good person than actually doing good in the world, when Rachel would very much want to do the same but is making a huge sacrifice not to, and then look at Rachel like there never was a similarity between them, Cassie was always the only good person and Rachel is revolting? In #48 she keeps telling herself it’s just paranoia, just a dream, just reading too much into it and her friends don’t really hate her, but then in #52 Cassie snapping at her, in Rachel’s mind, shows her worst fears to be true. And I think it’s one of the underrated tragic moments of the series how, when we see Rachel’s perspective facing her death at the beginning of #54, she believes only Tobias will object to Jake sacrificing her because he cares about Rachel. Cassie, she believes, will only be upset because of the emotional impact it will have on Jake having to make such a hard decision. We as readers know this isn’t true; in #53 Cassie’s reaction to finding out what is happening is to be furious at Jake and upset purely about Rachel, and when we see her point of view in #54 she is very much grieving for her. But since Rachel’s last interaction with Cassie was her telling her she’s a horrible person and confirming her fears, that’s what she believes, and Cassie never had a chance to tell her otherwise. Never knowing that the best friend she ever had still cared, had never truly written her off as a lost cause.

[screamingcrows]

Tie a tether here - Dottore x OC (Celeste)

Note: I don't even care if Dottore is ooc because I needed this. Don't squint too hard at this. Takes place between Tomorrow and Change of Pace. Do not fucking feed this to ai, I'll get you Trypanosoma rhodesiense. Warnings/tags: MDNI, self harm (specifically cutting, scratching, and ripping out hair), delusions (the psychotic kind, not the vision mimics), mental breakdown, not established relationship, bad comfort.

Breathe in.

Hold.

A foreign scream rattled the modest bathroom.

Hold.

Celeste's ribs were about to snap.

Nails raked along her scalp, fingers tangling in the soft hair and ripping out one strand after the other.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

The tiles were cold against her knees, legs numb from how long she'd remained there.

Breathe out.

Someone was there with her.

Her ears flicked, picking up the sound of something moving in the halls. It felt too uncertain to be acknowledged. Heavy boots. A soldier? They'd walk by and be none the wiser. All that mattered was the absence of Dottore, his leave ensuring privacy here in his sanctuary.

Clawed hands grasped at the cold sink in preparation to hoist herself up, head lowered in irrational fear of the polished mirror. Something she'd polished herself one week prior. Dottore had needed it clean, not that he'd asked.

Her visage was foreign when it invaded her mind uninvited. Dark bags lined the pale skin under her eyes, their discoloration the worst of all. What had he compared them to before? The break of dawn over the mausoleum? Bile rose in her throat, body jerking with the onset of coughs and gags.

Nothing was expelled from her body save the tears that refused to dry. If only it was that easy. Foul laughter erupted from her throat, bubbling to the surface as it was wrung from her body. The tears flowed faster, confusion and fear at the foreign sounds being brought to life. Was that her fate, bring about such terrible things?

Several familiar faces danced at the edges of her vision, her own reflection baring its sharp teeth in a mocking sneer. Her head was pounding, the laughter threatening to crush her skull and what little sanity remained.

Murderer.

They kept whispering that single word, the sound echoing painfully in her head, burying itself where it would never be uprooted. Their grins remained intact, empty eyes boring into her even as all faded to black. A sharp pang went through the haze, fresh blood pooling around her claws as they dug into her shoulders, shaking with a need to rend. Celeste felt her muscles spasm, fighting a futile war with itself, torn between serving justice and self preservation.

Glass cracked and splintered under the weight of her fury, uselessly clattering to the ground to join her ambitions. Another howl tore itself free while she sunk back to her knees, masking not only the sharp knock but also the immediate creaking of hinges.

"And why, exactly, are you in my quarters Celeste? I might have given you a key out of convenience, but that was hardly an invitation."

Everything shattered around her, hands desperately flying to her shoulders to cover and hide, back rounding as she curled in on herself. A small shake of her head to spread the white locks of hair, praying it had no visible stains already as it blanketed her form.

Revenge?

"Privacy… You were gone anyway," the lie seared her tongue, shaky enough that it was no doubt obvious.

A cry for help?

Her eyes closed in relief when Dottore showed a rare mercy and let the question drop. The respite was short-lived as any other pleasantries in this world. Three sharp clicks from his heels and soft leather meeting bare skin, the grip on her shoulder light yet still bordering on painful as it threatened to crush her heart. His gloves would be bloodied again. The cacophony of voices had calmed at the touch.

"Make no mistake, you will be reprimanded for this mess in due time, Celeste," an unamused sigh followed, the silence that stretched reminiscent of late nights where a solution was taunting them, just out of reach, "for now, collect yourself and go to the locked lab. Delta can patch you up in there, I would rather this stay between us."

That was it? Of course it was. What else did she deserve?

Celeste found herself longing to smack his hand away, bite it perhaps, anything to shift her focus from the quickly expanding pit of her stomach. It was all so tiresome, body heavy and sluggish as she let it curl in further on itself, as if the world could be shut out so long as all senses were dulled. A sob left her lips. It could, she knew it could.

The weight on her shoulder moved, awkwardly firm in the way it shook her.

"I said collect yourself, tardiness has never been a vice for you and it would be unfortunate to develop the habit now," Dottore's words lacked their previous bite, more resigned than anything.

Another cackle wormed its way from her throat, building to a manic laughter as her own hands flew up to catch it at the source, squeezing around the delicate column, anything to make it stop.

He's laughing at you. It's natural. A pathetic creature who can do nothing right. Escaping fate takes more than fleeing a nation.

"Celeste," his voice was sharp again, sharper than the feel of his palm colliding with the back of her head.

Everything went quiet again save for the dull thud of an aching heart.

"Don't make me drag you there."

The thumb rubbing against her shoulder now was far more rugged than the familiar leather. When had he removed the glove? A sigh left her, focusing on the drag against her skin and the stinging pain that accompanied it with every swipe just barely dodging the open cuts. Her breath was coming in short puffs, adrenaline coursing through her veins as the formless voices continued to lurk in the shadows, waiting for the time where she'd be alone again.

Celeste was well aware that the anguish, the way her voice cracked so pitifully, was undoubtedly irksome for Dottore, but nothing could be done to stop it.

"Being patched up isn't going to-"

"Do you think I'm unaware? Tell me then, what can be done in this very moment? From where I stand, there's no immediate solution to this, and clever as you are, you'd have already found it if there was. And if I," he hesitated for a moment, finger digging painfully into a wound before reluctantly pressing on, "if we cannot fix that, then at least the vessel can be maintained."

A few tears were wiped from her cheeks, slowly turning as if compelled to look at him. Dottore had forgone the mask, a rare occurrence. There were creases around his eyes, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles trembled.

By no means should those words be calming.

Celeste let her head fall, eyes closing as exhaustion took root. Her eyes stung from the lack of tears left to shed, a light pressure still remaining, the only thing keeping complete emptiness at bay.

"Don't- don't look at me like that."

No words were offered in response as his thumb continued to trace over old scars and fresh wounds alike, touch far too delicate for the man he was. A hiss left her lips when her hair was moved out of the way, knowing that nowhere she could reach on her thorax had been spared throughout the years.

"And don't touch me…"

Don't touch me like that.

"And here I thought your gravitation towards high necklines and covered shoulders was simply a testament to professionalism."

Another silence ensued, uncomfortable and far too long. Already broken shards of the mirror cracked under Dottore's boot as he shifted before kicking them away, some of them disappearing under the crumpled fabric of the discarded shirt.

"It's hideous-"

And I'd rather be spared the faux sympathy.

The words felt heavy, he'd already been burdened enough by this outburst. If only she hadn't gone to his quarters in some silly pursuit of false security, this could've all been avoided and her dignity would be intact.

"I seem to recall your lips tracing along my body, saying my numerous imperfections didn't matter. 'merely proof you've lived' if I remember correctly. Explain to me the difference."

"There's a- a good reason you look as you do," a reason you won't share with me, "it was out of your control, but this-"

"Do you harm yourself out of a desire to do so?"

"I mean- I," a cloying breath of air invaded her lungs, the sense of anticipation heavy upon her tongue, how could he still be so innocently curious, "I don't know? Sometimes it's just, I have to, it's always.. it's always there and nothing makes it shut up and- I think I'm broken."

With surprising patience, Dottore let his hand fall away, walking around to lean against the sink.

"Does it work?"

"What?"

"Does it ease your mind?"

A part of her wanted to scream that of course it did, why else would she resort to it. It would be a lie. And if she hadn't imagined the regret in those garnet eyes, he knew it.

"It gives me something else to think about," the words were forced out with a shudder, fingers playing with a shard of glass.

It was crushed under his boot before her fingers could grasp it, the tiny splinters glittering against the floor.

"We have better things to distract ourselves with."

She flinched, tail stirring as it curled around her waist, body finally giving in to the thought of soothing itself. Maybe he was right, there'd never really been a quick solution to anything, had there? Her eyes flickered to the thin trails of crimson that adorned her arms. At least not any worth pursuing.

Celeste took the outstretched hand that was offered, seeing the drying blood on her hands stain his skin as she fought the sinking feeling that slowly crept back. Surprise briefly ran through her system at the slight smile that met her, the whisper of 'there you are' faint enough that she didn't dare acknowledge it, merely following Dottore out of the wrecked bathroom, thoughts frustratingly quiet as long as his hand enveloped her wrist.

[commsroom]

how would the characters do working in a public service job, such as retail? I'm particularly curious about hilbert, kepler, and minkowski.

you know, you can really tell that nobody in wolf 359 other than eiffel has ever worked retail. it explains a lot about them.

it's impossible to imagine hilbert working retail in any context that isn't just. a joke for how out of place he would be. everything hilbert does is for his research, and he considers anything else a pointless distraction. he thinks that "bedside manner is like anesthetic: it just gets in the way of what needs to be done." honestly, i wish i could make hilbert work customer service. it would be torture for him, and he would say the kinds of things to customers that most people can only fantasize about. if you put him in a retail job, somehow, he would still just disappear into a dark storage room to do god knows what. i think hilbert would let people shoplift. he doesn't care.

kepler... could thrive in retail, actually. that's really scary. not that he would like it, but that he's got that kind of personality type and work ethic. the version of kepler who hollowed himself to become the manager of a dick's sporting goods might be worse than regular kepler, for the limited power it would offer him. but stagnation would drive him crazy. kepler really values progress - always working harder, doing more. he doesn't mind being a cog in the corporate machine, but that would be a much less. complex machine, compared to his real ambitions. he would still tell the exact same stories.

minkowski would be very, very frustrated by a job like that, but she would take it very seriously. she would enforce every nonsensical, nit-picky little policy to the letter. she would want to run that place like the navy, for sure, but people wouldn't be scared of her the way they'd be scared of someone like kepler. she's a tryhard people pleaser, and she tries to come across as strict and no-nonsense, but i think minkowski really takes people at their word and it wouldn't be hard for both customers & her employees to walk all over her once they figured out how she operates, and which of her threats are empty. that's what eiffel did. if she wasn't in a management position, it would be even worse for her. she would grit her teeth, and try very, very hard, and she would hate every moment of it.

characters you didn't ask about, but i have to talk about anyway:

i think lovelace would be a relatively cool manager who would take your side if a customer was a jerk to you, and she wouldn't really care about the rules as long as things got done. but it would be difficult for her to hold a lower-level position, unless she had a cool manager.

eiffel is the only one of them who's canonically worked food service (and a whole assortment of dead-end jobs he got fired from within a few months) and he approaches his current job pretty much the same as i imagine he approached his job at pizza hut. he complains about his boss, zones out, maybe even falls asleep. if he could wander outside and smoke, he would. eiffel and hera are really the only two people here who don't have career ambitions. almost everyone else wants something more, in their own ways, but eiffel just wants to clock out, go home, and relax. doesn't really matter what the job is, he just doesn't want to be at work. respectable.

and hera is already doing the equivalent of putting on a customer service voice, seething with contempt, and then going to cry in the bathroom, like, every day of her life. so...

[ddarker-dreams]

Those Who Live by the Sword.

Yan Claude von Riegan x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 3k.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must test the boundaries of what they can and cannot get away with. 

This has been your personal creed as of late. Though you now fight under the Leicester Alliance’s banner, the lack of a shared history with your fellow alma mater is tangible. It isn’t intentional on behalf of your comrades-in-arms, not that you can tell, but an inadvertent consequence of joining the ranks when you did. 

The time in between battles and skirmishes stretches on seemingly forever. You adhere to a mundane routine: training, ensuring the integrity of your equipment, and wandering aimlessly like some specter in the night. No one troubles you and you trouble no one. You may share the same ambition, meager war rations, and thin tents that can barely keep the night’s chill at bay, yet your common ground ends there. 

You thought this would be enough. Perhaps it will be, if you keep trying, so that’s what you’ve resolved yourself to do. 

Sparks fly off the whetstone as you manipulate a chipped blade against it. You repeat the motion without reprieve, your muscles crying out their protests and your body heavier than the rock this stone was chiseled from. Raising the sword by the hilt, you inspect the fruits of your labor, then frown. A weapon incapable of striking down the enemy is as useless as it is potentially deadly for the wielder. And so you carry on your thankless task, seeing to the repair once more.

There’s a change in the breeze. A slight course correction that some may chalk up to nature’s design; inconsequential, unworthy of granting a second thought. 

The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Firmly, you anchor yourself to the foreign soil, finding that it swallows your boot’s heels rather than spitting it back out. This wouldn’t be an ideal landscape to fight on. That’s why Claude chose to establish camp with this mire acting as a perimeter, deterring potential ambushes and conflicts without a drop of blood being spilled. It’s also why you ventured off here beneath the moon’s looming presence, not wanting to wake your fellow soldiers who often must go days without rest. If there’s anyone who deserves uninterrupted sleep, it’s them, and you eventually, when your goal has been achieved. 

Unblinkingly, you study the thickets where you sense a presence to be staring back. 

You hold your breath and consider your options. Vantage points, escape paths, where the terrain may prove a boon or a bane— 

“Nothing dampens your senses, hm?” A feminine voice that rings familiar asks. From the verdure emerges a lone figure, whose once sky-colored hair is now a frosty mint. Your posture relaxes. 

“Not if I want to live, no.” 

She advances forward. Her eyes go from you to the whetstone, indiscernible in their intent. 

“While being proactive is admirable, it isn’t a good idea to go off by yourself in hostile territory.” 

Byleth no longer officially holds the title of professor, though she still acts the part. It’s never felt unwelcome, this inclination of hers to guide those under her command, but you’re no longer a child worrying over her next grade. You’re a cog in the machine of war. Those who steer said machine needn’t worry themselves with the specifics, so long as you can keep playing your part. 

Yet for some reason, Byleth has often sought you out when you’re certain there are other, more pressing matters to attend to. 

She jerks her head in the direction of the camp. “Let’s head back.” 

You wipe the sweat accumulating on your brow. 

“I’ll be right behind you. This shouldn’t take much longer.” 

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t appear convinced. 

“... You’re upset,” she reasons. The two words come out slow, cautious. Not caring for the pitying gaze that’s being directed toward you, you return to your previous task. “I get why. Still, Claude never issues orders without reason, you know that. He sees what we don’t even know to look for.” 

Byleth has undergone a metamorphosis since she first walked the cobblestone avenues of the monastery, distant from everyone and everything. Her perception extends far past the battlefield. In many ways, Claude served as a sharpening stone for her, allowing qualities that had rusted over to shine through. 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” She challenges. Her voice slices clean through the air, though it’s not without tenderness. “Lately, you’ve been looking to prove yourself, right? It isn’t worth overexerting yourself.” 

You gulp down the rest of what’s in your waterskin. “I’m not ‘overexerting myself’, I’m just trying to do my part.” 

You glance down at the offending sword that dragged you into this conversation. The condition has greatly improved since when you started. It’s your hope that the owner will live longer thanks to your handiwork. The thought makes your mouth go dry, as if you hadn’t just been chugging water. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” You murmur. In the distance, an owl warbles its song. “We need every fighting body we can get, we’re even outsourcing to mercenaries. What reason does he have for taking me off the battlefield ‘indefinitely’?” 

Byleth places her hand on your shoulder. It weighs on you heavily. “There’s no one who knows how to use what’s at their disposal better than Claude. You’ve placed your trust in him before, don’t take it back now.”

“I’m not,” you respond, a hint too fast, like you were retracting your hand after almost being burnt. “I trust him, really, I do, but— I don’t know. First, it was removing me from the vanguard, then putting me in the safest part of the formation, and now this? I’ve become just another mouth to feed. A burden.” 

Whether you intended to say this much, you don’t know, but it all comes tumbling out regardless. The fatigue, stress, and confusion have been building and building to a boiling point. It was only a matter of time before you’d get scalded. 

Dead silence occupies the air, thick and potent. Neither wind nor animal stirs. You have company, and still, you’ve never felt more alone.  

Eventually, Byleth gives your shoulders a squeeze. You think she intends to reassure you. “There is a reason. It’s an important one, too.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Momentarily, the composed countenance Byleth usually maintains cracks, showing an emotion you can’t quite identify. 

In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“I think we both know that isn’t a question for me.” 

-

As per Byleth’s request, you’ve allowed Claude to be the sole holder of your trust. 

She didn’t need to convince you with lofty words and promises. The respect she’s accumulated from you sufficed. You convinced yourself that even if you felt like a deadweight, so long as the golden banner advanced, you’d swallow down your pride and accept Claude’s decision. 

This personal covenant found itself tested within a few weeks. 

The tides of war are a finicky thing. Momentum can be with your cause, almost to the point you’re convinced some divine power is on your side, then it all comes to a screeching halt. One stalemate and one loss — that will be what a historian one day will write in this bloody chapter of Fódlan’s history. 

The groans of the wounded and silence left in the place of those who perished form a haunting symphony.  

You find yourself in the tent Claude occupies. Understandably, he’s been busy as of late, unable to hold an audience with you. Bypassing common courtesy felt like the only way to get through to him, even if this is a breach of privacy. Any other ruler could have you sentenced for life if you tried pulling this stunt, but sticking to strict tradition has never been Claude’s philosophy. You’re confident the scaffold doesn’t await. 

While awaiting his return, your eyes take to wandering. To the left stands a cot, a bow, and various quivers beside it in case of a surprise attack. In the middle is a crudely outfitted table, a map of Fódlan the centerpiece, scribbled with notes that are updated every time a scout comes back. His personal belongings are few and far between. 

There is a single thing that catches your attention. A leaf that doesn’t match the flora of this area — one species found in Garreg Mach Monastery and nowhere else. You know this item well, for you’re the one who gave it to him, five years prior. On the eve of the White Heron Cup, you’d pressed leaves and gave them to your fellow students, regardless of class affiliation. You wanted to ‘preserve your bonds’, or whatever the naive dream was. 

Considering the current state of the country, it’d seem your wishes fell on deaf ears. 

He kept something silly like this for so long…? 

“Are you here to assassinate me, by any chance?” 

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt appearance of Claude. The man you’ve been seeking out all this time certainly knows how to make an entrance. The world itself takes a secondary role when he enters, fading away into an unidentifiable blur. His presence commands attention without him doing anything. There’s this magnetic aura surrounding Claude, a quiet brilliance, dazzling as a crystal. 

“Of course not,” you reply. It’s terribly tempting to fall into a trap of lighthearted banter when he’s around, so you must remain vigilant. “I was only hoping to take a few minutes of your time.” 

He frowns and visibly deflates. “There isn’t any requirement saying you have to speak so formally with me. You didn’t used to.” 

“Wouldn’t you say that times have changed?” 

“Times have changed, yes,” Claude relents. The twinkle in his eye tells you he’s far from finished. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I’ve always appreciated your candid nature, it’s refreshing. Even more so when you enter the convoluted world of politics like I have.” 

“I think breaking into your tent is rather candid.” 

“That it is. So,” he pulls out a rickety chair and sits, his posture open. “Let me guess. You’re here to challenge my order for you to remain off the frontlines?” 

It’s always amazed you how he goes from beating around the bush to addressing a point directly. In every discussion, whether it be subtly or overtly, he finds a way to take the reins. His boldness temporarily takes you aback. You prepared an opening statement that’d help ease into your dissent, but that slips your mind like sand through your fingers. 

“I don’t want to question your judgment. It’s just… I think I’d be better utilized out on the field. I came here to help, to fight.” 

“For me, correct?” 

You pause, gauging if he’s joking or not. It’s difficult to tell. 

“I suppose that’s a way of putting it?” 

Claude leans back in his chair and folds his legs. “You did your fair share of snooping around on me back then and even now. That assassin jibe really was a potential theory of mine at one point. I wasn’t sure what to make of you. Coming from me, that’s quite the compliment.” 

He steeples his fingers. 

“The solution was so simple that I hadn’t considered it. Maybe you weren’t aware of it yourself, maybe you were. You found me intriguing, to the point you’d be willing to leave your country of birth behind. This level of dedication, when we’d hardly exchanged words back in our academy days… let’s just say it endeared you to me.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. 

“You shouldn’t joke around about stuff like that.” 

“I’m not joking,” he flashes a handsome smile. “Knowing how tenacious you are, I thought it’d be best to give proper context to my decision. I don’t want you in harm’s way. This is what I get for trying to delay this conversation until after the war. A tent is the furthest thing from a romantic backdrop, but… beggars can’t be choosers, hm?” 

Endeared you to me. Don’t want you in harm’s way. Romantic backdrop. 

Your legs almost go out beneath you. “W-Wait, this isn’t— it can’t be— a confession?” 

He puts his hands up as if in surrender. “Ah, you caught me. Is it all starting to make sense now?” 

You scrutinize him without trying to hide it in the least. He might be using the casual language that’s typical of him, but his physiognomy is serious. His lips ease into a closed-mouth smile, his eyes contain a certain gentleness, and the tone of his voice is unlike any you’ve heard him use before. A tempest of thoughts and emotions encircles you. It’s stupefying, this situation you’ve stumbled into, almost dreamlike. While you aren’t certain if you reciprocate in full, his charm is undeniable. 

You’re about to explain as much to him when a realization hits. 

So much emphasis has been put on this revelation that the true reason for your meeting here was almost covered, sitting elsewhere and collecting dust. 

The traps he sets are tempting indeed. 

“So that’s the reason,” you say, almost breathless, “I can’t just sit back and watch everyone else put their lives on the line, knowing I’m not doing the same, because of favoritism.” 

Claude sighs. The oil lamp sitting atop the wooden table flickers, casting shadows over his face. Green eyes take in your discontent through thick eyelashes. The undulating shadows become one with the bags forming beneath his eyes, a testimony to the relentless pursuit of his dream. The sheer exhaustion staring back at you pokes and prods at your heart. You don’t want to add to his stress, you want to help, but this isn’t something you can concede on. 

“It’s only going to get more dangerous as we advance on the capital.” 

“Which is why I—” 

“I won’t allow it, simple as that,” Claude cuts you off. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice he rarely ever uses with others. He wants this conversation over with, that much is evident. “Why do you think I kept that gift from you, hm? It always appealed to me, that optimism of yours, so willing to overlook what everyone else in this land and the ones beyond it fixates on. I’d look at it and remember I wasn’t the only one who aimed for something better.” 

You know the expression that etches itself onto his face. That’s the look of a man willing to do anything, give everything, to obtain what he wants.  

“So. You can huff, glare at me, do anything you please really, but I won’t be changing my mind. Not on this. I’d prefer not to gamble more than I care to lose, for once.” 

It’s as if a spirit possesses you. Your legs stride toward him, magma flowing hot through your veins, searing you from the inside out. He remains unwavering upon your approach, silently testing to see what it is you may do next. You grasp at his collar with hands that are calloused from a lifetime of training. Your height overtakes his while he remains sitting, and yet, you feel he’s the one looking down on you from an unreachable podium. 

“And what about what I want?” 

“You should want to live.” 

“I want to fight.” 

“There are more ways to help than shedding blood.” 

“Are we at a point where that’s true?” 

“We will be,” Claude places the palm of his hand over your clenched fist. “Is it so bad that I want to keep you safe?” 

The expression you regard him with speaks louder than words. 

“Alright, alright, I expected as much. You aren’t one to be convinced by words alone, which is truly a shame, because talking is my whole thing… that leaves taking action then. Are you going to let this play out without raising a fuss, or am I going to have to get creative here?” 

This enigmatic phrasing does not sit well with you. He could already foresee that you weren’t planning on hanging back now that you know the true reason for his command, further narrowing your options of retaliation. It isn’t like he’d be in a position to do anything if you were out on the field, his attention would be forced elsewhere. 

Claude’s serious about this. He’d truly have you twiddling your thumbs and wallowing in idleness while you watch faces leave that you might never see again. 

You try retracting your hand. He doesn’t let you. 

“What exactly does ‘get creative’ mean?” 

“Well, since you asked,” he closes his eyes and hums, as if in deep thought, “Posting guards to keep an eye on you, physically restricting your movements, or even sending you back to the monastery with an escort. There are plenty of options, really.” 

Eyes narrowing, you dare to call his bluff. “You can’t spare the manpower it’d take to escort me back.” 

“Ah, I think you’re mixing the phrases ‘can’t’ and ‘would prefer not to’. Trust me — I’d love to keep you close to keep a better eye on you — but we can’t always get what we want. If I think you’re preparing to pull a stunt that’d put your life in danger, I’ll act accordingly. That’s a promise.” 

It isn’t often you’re faced with such an immovable force. His relaxed posture belies his serious intent, the discordance is further unsettling you. 

Then you’re struck with an epiphany. 

“If you won’t listen to me, you’ll listen to the Professor, right?” If there’s a hint of haughtiness to your tone, no one can blame you. “There’s no way she won’t think you’re overstepping your boundaries by acting like this.” 

Your threat doesn’t phase him in the least. If anything, there’s a hint of amusement on his visage, as if you told him a joke in good fun. He has the decency not to laugh, but from the crinkling of the skin beneath his eyes, he might as well be. 

“You’re more than welcome to try. I should warn you, though…” 

Hues of piercing green bore through you. 

“Half of this was her idea.” 

[khiphop-discussions]

What are some fun facts or funny/wholesome khiphop stories, events, whatever they may be that you heard of? I feel like I always see the tea and beef but nothing else somehow 😆

Hold on let me think back. I think I've talked about most of these before but they are scattered across different years and posts:

Giriboy thought he was the best rapper in Korea until he heard Lil Boi (I think Giriboy said this when he was the producer on SMTM)

Epik High was at a phone store a LONG time ago (NOTE: Epik High used to kinda be assholes sometimes back in the earlier days). A lady came in to get a new phone screen or a screen protector (can't remember which). DJ Tukutz just said out loud "Just buy a new one". The lady just walked out without finishing any transactions. It turns out that lady was Kang Hyejung (Actress/Tablo's wife)! I guess it didn't leave TOO bad of an impression as Tablo and Hyejung were still able to get married and have a family later when they officially met BUT I wonder how awkward it was when Tukutz actually met her officially. Also if he ever apologized for being a jerk LOL . I'm honestly shocked AF she didn't tell him off cause Tablo has told other stories about her before and she seems to have a strong personality. Maybe she wasn't in the mood that day or she was just embarrassed. I can't remember where this story was told. Probably an interview or a variety show.

When DPR Live/Dabin worked at a Subway when he first came to Korea, Christian used to always come in and get the most basic sandwich. Like turkey/ham (can't remember exactly which meat. maybe both), lettuce, and then other basic sandwich ingredients. Dabin wanted to make something more fancy but Christian just liked the basic sandwich. Story told on IG live w/ Christian and Live

The Quiett gave the TERRBLE advice to LeellaMarz that he shouldn't save any money until he turns 30. I'm honestly shocked The Quiett would give such terrible advice like this but then again, younger Quiett did seem like he spent excessively too. Leella has actually been listening to that advice too. He has 3 luxury cars and doesn't save. HOWEVER, Leella comes from money so I guess it's not really an issue. I can't remember the jobs but both of his parents have good, well respected jobs. This story was told on Psick show.

Changmo complained about his relationships (and potentially other life struggles) so much that eventually The Quiett got annoyed. IT was just an sigh tbh but apprently that's more frustration than anyone else in Ambition has ever seen The Quiett show. I can't remember where this was but it might be from the "Tomorrows Hangover" episode with Changmo, Ash Island, and Hash Swan

Queen Wasabii used to have a crush on the YouTuber/Variety Star Dex when they were doing the show Bloody Game 1 together (I don't really like wasabii but this story is cute so I put it). This was shown on Bloody Game 1.

When Yun B was on Bloody Game 2, he was kidnapped by the outdoors team and taken to the forest. This was done while he was sleeping in the middle of the night. So he was still in his underwear when they took him. He didn't think he'd be gone long when they woke him up. Luckily he took a backpack and it had some of his clothes in it LOL. This was shown on Bloody Game 2.

Ash Island slipped and fell while he was performing "Melody" at one of the festivals last year. I can't remember which one but it's still on Youtube if you wanna go look. It's the outside festival and I think he was wearing all Black.

YEARS ago I was in B-Free's IG live and he was talking about Dok2's old hairline. I typed "Don't make fun of/talk about that boy" (I can't remember whether I said "don't talk about" or "don't make fun of") in the comments. I was just kidding and put LOL and everything but I guess B-Free thought I was serious. So he was like "Oh my bad, I'm sorry". Then I started to feel bad because I felt like I was killing the vibe LOL. He was also saying that BeWhy's hair looked painted on LOL. (Again this was a SUPER long time ago. Probably 2016 or 2017).

[The wholesome/heartwarming part] Coogie said Code Kunst is his role model now that he's in AOMG. [The not so wholesome but funny part] When Code Kunst asked why not Kian84 or Simon D. Coogie said that Kian is a writer and Simon D is handsome... He thinks him and Code Kunst are on the same tier lookswise so that's why he chooses him.

REALLY old Khiphop stuff but Masta Wu and Danny Im (1tym) used to be really close to the level of a bromance LOL. Obviously Danny and Teddy Park were really close back then but I didn't know that Masta Wu was that type LOL. But I guess it checks out cause Wu told Danny that Danny "taught him humility" when Danny was leaving Korea for the US. From Danny From LA show

More REALLY old Khiphop stuff but YG Entertainment used to have a ping pong tournament back in the days (seems like this story was at some point during the 2nd gen kpop days but possibly from before). It was fun but apparently people got too serious. Teddy went and bought a professional paddle and started kicking everyone's ass. So then EVERYONE participating at YG had to go buy a professional paddle so it wasn't so unbalanced. I don't remember who ended up winning. From Danny Im's podcast

Loopy scolded one of the mkitain members (I think Bloo but maybe it was more than one member) in front of Kid Milli. The story seemed serious when it was told but I just think it's funny to get scolded in front of Kid Milli. It was probably so awkward for everyone. I think this was old during the Mkitwon series.

Apparently, Cha Cha ends up getting more girls if him and Jay go out together. from Ben Baller's OLD podcast. I don't even know if this episode with Jay is still available or not.

I can't think of anything else right now but I think this is a nice list.

[mallowsweetmiri]

Peaches - Part Two

~ A Fred Weasley Fic ~

Peaches Master list:

Your POV

“Fucking finally,” you sighed, plopping down on the couch in the common room and shutting your eyes, “thought the day would never end.”

“How’d the exam go, love?” Cassius asked, closing his book in his lap. You rubbed your temple.

“Fine, fine…” you let out another sigh. School was school. You were just moving on autopilot. You did fine in all your subjects and you made sure to plot out library time. It was just exhausting. You used to enjoy learning, you had goals, you had a life ahead of you. Now all you had was an empty home and no ambition. So much for that ambitious Slytherin spirit…

“You used to love charms Y/N, making up all sorts of crazy charms for us. I miss it..” Cassius drawled on, smiling shyly over at you. You gave him a small smile. You knew what he really meant. He missed the old you…

“I still have that charmed necklace I made with the electric shock,” you faintly smiled. You had made it to prank a Ravenclaw douchebag who thought he could encroach on your personal space.

“I forgot about that! That was genius,” Cassius beamed at the memory. But then you also remembered when your dad had picked it up over summer thinking it looked nice… You guys laughed so hard… He was so proud of your magic…

“Well I’m all out of genius ideas Cass…” you frown and cover your eyes with your arm. Your head hurt. You had slept for a few hours last night before the nightmares began. You groaned.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You can always talk to me, to Lucy. And if you need anything you know I’d walk through a storm to get it for you,” Cassius offered with a smile. You peaked through your arm and gave him a light smile.

“I know Cass, and I love you guys. I just… I need to go on a walk,” you say suddenly, scrambling off the couch and grabbing your bag.

“Not this again,” Cassius groaned as he watched you leave. You gave him a wave before heading out.

—————————-

Fred’s POV

Potions was grueling. Snape had made George and I stay after class and clean out slugs. We may or may not have wasted a few slugs by slinging them at the back of a few heads but still…

“Totally unwarranted! Snape’s got it out for us…” George finished my thought aloud as we walked out of the dungeons. I nodded in agreement before something caught my eye. A head a dark curls was walking quickly out into the cold.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna try to nick something from the greenhouse for a new product idea…” I lied, my eyes not leaving the exit as I sped up my pace.

“Sure Freddie… just don’t be too long, we still need to sort out our canary creams!” George waved and went down the hall. I went outside and shielded my eyes from the brightness. The afternoon sun was such a contrast from spending hours down in the dungeons. My mood couldn’t help but lighten as I felt the warmth engulf my body. I had almost forgotten why I came outside in the first place when I spotted the thick head of curls bounding across the viaduct and towards the cliffs.

“Godric, she’s quick…” I muttered under my breath. I figured there was no point in running after her. There were only a few places she could end up on this specific path. I passed a few people hanging out in the courtyard and waved. I felt like such a jerk not knowing Y/N’s name… it felt like I knew almost everybody at this school…

I shook my head and continued down on the path. Who could blame me? I avoided all Slytherins unless I was hexing Malfoy and his crew. It wasn’t like Y/N had been particularly nice to me either. Although you can’t really blame her…. I didn’t even know her name…

I stopped in my tracks when I saw her. She was leaned over the edge of the outlook, staring out over the lake and towards Hogsmeade. The wind seemed to blow extra harsh today despite the sun shining warmth onto the grounds. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Look who forgot a jacket this time?” I teased as I approached the girl. Her head whipped around just as it had yesterday and the look on her face was… less than pleasant.

“Are you following me, Weasley?” She accused, turning around and leaning back against the rail on her arms. Why did she always look so nonchalant?

“No, Y/N, believe it or not, I was just enjoying the sunshine after being stuck in the dungeons all afternoon,” I offered her a smile as I approached the spot next to her. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“So, you’ve figured out my name, have you? Took you long enough…” she smirked before leaning her head back to bask in the sun. I smiled sheepishly at her.

“I’ll admit, that was pretty daft of me. And here I was thinking I knew every beautiful girl at the school,” I turned away to look out at the lake. I heard her scoff.

“Your Weasley charm doesn’t work on me Fred, so save your breath,” she pushed herself off of the railing but she didn’t leave. She simply turned around and joined me in leaning over the edge.

“I’m not trying to charm you, peach, I’m trying to apologize for not knowing your name,” I nudged her with my elbow and offer her a sly grin. She rolled her eyes but I could’ve sworn I saw the edge of her mouth curve up.

“Well apology accepted, I guess. I still think you’re a prat, though.”

I frown at this but my reaction seemed to make her laugh. She threw her head back slightly into the sunlight and let out a chuckle before letting her gaze fall back onto me. Her eyes brightened and crinkled from the fullness of her cheeks. Merlin, her smile was pretty. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I’ll take it,” I say, diverting my gaze from hers if only to stop my mind from racing, “I also wanted to apologize for intruding yesterday. I honestly just thought it was hilarious that you had yelled out fuck, but I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She shook her head as she gazed down onto the cliff side below. Her smile had turned solemn.

“No, no, you didn’t interrupt me. I’m sorry if I’m a little… on edge. I am a Slytherin after all,” she waved me off but I could see something in her eyes shift. I frowned again.

“Just cause you’re a Slytherin doesn’t mean you can’t be happy…” I trail off, not wanting to shift her mood but I can’t help my blatant honestly. Weasley trait.

“Who said I’m not happy?” She snapped, straightening up and turning her body to face me. She would almost be intimidating, if she wasn’t so tiny.

“Well you said you’re on edge.. I dunno… you just seem… frustrated?” I mumble, trying not to upset her. “I mean, com’on, Y/N. You were cursing at the winds yesterday! You can lie all you want, I can tell somethings going on in that pretty little head of yours,” I tease, poking a finger at her forehead. Her eyes glared at me as she crossed her arms over her chest. She somehow made huffing look adorable.

“As much as I’d love to be psychoanalyzed by you Freddie, I have places to be. Enjoy your precious sunshine,” she said before turning on her heel and starting up the stairs towards the castle.

“Aw com’on peach!” I call after her, but it was too late. She was already waving me off with her hand and disappearing from my line of sight. I let out a sigh and turn back to look at the view. She’s a difficult one…

————————————

Your POV

You huffed as you walked back to the Slytherin common room. Why was that Weasley so intent on talking to you all of a sudden? None of the other ones were paying you any attention, just Fred…

You shook your head as you entered the common room to see Lucy and Cassius lounging together on a couch with their homework sprawled between them.

“Y/N!” Lucy perked up, shutting her book with a wide grin spreading on her face.

“Hi Lucy darling,” you let out a breathy laugh as you bent down to give her a quick hug. Cassius raised an eyebrow at you.

“Feeling better, love?” He questioned. You rolled your eyes.

“I guess,” you grumbled as you took a seat on the floor, “Lucy, you’ll never believe who I ran into on my walk just now.”

“Fred?” Your mouth dropped open.

“How did you know?” But she just chuckled. Cassius quickly sat up and darted his eyes between you two.

“Wait like Fred Weasley, Fred?” He questioned as Lucy giggled and nodded furiously. You groaned and threw your head back onto the couch.

“Yes, Fred Weasley. He came up to us at breakfast today trying to act all friendly. Granted, he didn’t even know our names, but he kept calling Y/N peaches,” Lucy said deviously, letting out a string of giggles. You smacked her leg.

“Peaches?! What the fuck is going on?” Cassius pressed, now fully throwing his assignments to the side. Lucy was having a fit of laughter but tried to stifle it when she saw you staring at her with a clenched jaw.

“Wouldn’t I like to know,” you huffed, “He’s probably up to no good. Why would he take an interest in me all of a sudden?” Lucy and Cassius exchanged a look.

“I bet he fancies you,” Lucy smirked, Cassius quickly following suit.

“Ooh, I bet he’s just smitten for our darling Y/N,” Cassius teased, leaning in with Lucy to giggle. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought you could see your brain.

“He kept trying to pry. It was so annoying. I kept thinking ‘can’t you see that I want to be alone right now?’ But he’s such a prat he can’t even take a hint…” you grumbled as your frustration began to boil up inside you again. You began to think back on what he had said.

Why was I so frustrated?

Even just thinking that to yourself made you mentally groan. Why were you even considering a single word he had said?

“Well maybe he just wants to get to know you, Y/N…” Lucy said as gently as she possibly could. You glared into the fire.

“This is just the last thing I need this week. All these stupid exams, all the homework the professors are giving us on top of this bloody tournament. I just want… I just want to be alone!”

Lucy and Cassius watch helplessly and you stand from the floor and stomp up to the dorms. They look solemnly at each other before opening their homework back up.

———————————

Part 2! I hope you guys like this one. This story is a little slow paced and I’ll probably post it on AO3 or something as well. I just gotta set that up!

Again, leave feedback and suggestions in the comments, thank <3

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 22: Nonexistent Normal

The next few days bring a feeling of rushed anticipation. The familiar atmosphere in the kitchen hits me like a slap in the face. 

“Strange” is all I can comment on as people bustle around the office, hands full of documents and betting papers.

“What did you expect when you came back?” Finn asks from behind me.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a sliver of happiness. But the only one I see with any amount of happiness is you, Finn. This expansion doesn’t seem to be pleasing anyone but Thomas.”

He clears his throat and I turn to face him. Two years has done its work on Finn. His child-like face is still there but his eyes have grown with the deep ambition of a young man. 

“I missed the lessons. I really did.”

“Aw,” I smile and give him a quick hug. “I promise as soon as I carry out whatever Thomas has planned for me, I will schedule more. Speaking of which, where is Thomas?”

Hurried footsteps echo through the hall and we turn to see a woman hastily throwing on her coat as she heads for the door. There’s no question about her business here. We both know it. Thomas’ door opens and he steps out in a clean suit. Finn now decides to wander off to the parlor, leaving us alone.

“Still gallivanting with ladies of the night?” I taunt slightly.

“You still think I’m a good man after all these years?” Thomas lightly argues back as he approaches me in the kitchen.

“I do, Thomas Shelby.”

This surprises him. Thomas’ eyes search me for any hesitation, as if he was expecting me to scold his sinful behavior. It is disappointing to see him still turning to whores to keep him happy, especially after his ordeal with Grace.

“I will admit that this type of sin is no business of mine, but it’s your life. Just remember that your actions will have consequences.”

Why does he have to look at me like that? My words seem to fly right over his head but he’s still looking at me. 

“Verena! Come help me with these!” Polly yells from the office.

I give Thomas a shrug. “Duty calls. Anything you’ve got on the docket for me today?”

Thomas, still with the same look, shakes his head. “No. We’ll sort out the tough work first, then you lot can come in with the paperwork.”

Tough work? What kind of expansion is this anyway? Or by words or by force?

“Verena!”

“Coming, Polly!”

I hurry past the handsome gangster into the bustling office. People are pouring into place bets and Polly’s swamped with counting cash. The Romanian woman grunts in annoyment as soon as I join her.

“Talk talk talk! If you want to chat so much with Thomas then go on a date. Time to work!”

My head jerks to look at her once I process her rushed words. “Haha. We’re just catching up.”

“Yeah. Right.” Polly drolls sarcastically. “Catch up after we’ve handled this mess.”

Back to work it is. Customers pile in one after the other. I lose track of how many times I pass through the safe. What I do notice is the pile of money inside growing bigger and bigger. Thomas wasn’t kidding in his letters. Profit has been good.

“Alright, time to clock out.” Polly locks the door and collapses into a chair. 

“Already? Wha-? Oh!” I gape at the clock. “It’s already five!”

“That’s how it’s been,” Polly grunts. “I might have Thomas make you the new bookkeeper since he’s so keen on finding a new one.”

Oh. That was Grace’s job. He still hasn’t found a replacement. 

An ember of hope ignites in me. If I really want to stay here maybe I can convince Thomas to promote me. Something concrete that will prove to father that I have an official job and will keep them off my back.

Finn walks through the door and notices our tired state. 

“Where have you been?” Polly asks.

“Helping John pack the car.”

My head perks up. “Car? They left already?”

Finn shakes his head and points to where he’s just come from. “Not yet, but they’re about to. Now’s the time for any goodbyes.”

My exhaustion vanishes and I sprint out the door despite Polly’s callings. Sure enough the older Shelby brothers are gathered around their car ready to depart. But where’s Thomas?

“Hello, gentleman. Off to a new adventure?”

“If we can quit from arguing for five minutes,” Arthur grunts.

“Oi, Steenstra! You don’t need to do that,” John rejects when he sees me helping to pack a few bags. “They’re too heavy.”

“Are you saying I’m weak?” I joke and lift up the bags anyway.

“‘S just that you’re not the sturdiest ox of the group- Ow!”

John rubs the spot where I just punched his shoulder. He complains and Arthur can’t stop laughing.

“Call me that one more time and I will literally punch you in the nose,” I warn lightly. “I’m not a strong ox, no. But I am a fierce tiger.”

John scoffs and shrugs the threat off. “You don’t have the guts to- ah!”

I get him in a headlock and soon he’s bent over. “Need I remind you that I am American?”

“Alright alright, I give in!” John gasps and flinches away. “Jesus, Verena! What happened to you?”

I smirk proudly at his arrogance. “That’s what happens when I spend an entire month with my brothers.”

“I was on my way to step in but I see you’ve got it covered.”

I look behind me and see Thomas approaching. Another fine suit as usual. He seems to be in good spirits. I hope it lasts at least for a day. He looks between John and I with an amused smirk.

“Just get in the fucking car, John.”

“Good morning, Thomas. New car?”

John goes to sit in the back while Arthur taunts him. Thomas walks up beside me and lays a hand across the shining metal.

“Business has been good. Why not use the profits?”

“You should be proud,” I praise. “Have fun on your holiday. Polly’s going to miss you.”

“And you?” Thomas asks with slight interest.

His question holds layers of hidden hope. Does he want me to stay? I want to stay. I just got here.

“I’ve been gone two years. What’s a few more days? Besides from what I hear, you lot deserve a vacation. London sounds exciting.”

“At least we can drink legally, love. Though no doubt it’ll be just as hectic as your American speakeasies.”

“Haha, very funny.” I smirk and put my hands on my hips. “Be careful. Right, then. Cheerio, you wild gangsters.”

Thomas gives a salute and climbed in with his brothers. The engine spurs to life and the car begins gliding down the road.

“Right! Peaky Blinders are going on fucking holiday!” Arthur cheers.

“Sit down, you mad bastard!” John pushes him down.

Never a dull moment with this lot. Once they’re out of sight I hear footsteps from behind. It’s Finn.

“Are they gone?”

I nod. “Just left. What say you about a walk along the Cut and a catching-up chat? After all, I've hardly seen you outside of family meetings since I got back.”

He nods eagerly and we start off towards the river. Finn might have grown too but he’s still the same kind boy I remember.

“Do they still fight all the time?” I ask softly.

“They’ve calmed down a bit but Arthur’s head still strays from time to time.” Finn pauses. “How’s things in America?”

“In my case, terrible. My father’s been under lots of stress because of the new Eighteenth Amendment. Now we’re relying more on bootlegging, which is today's topic. The term came into general use in the American Midwest in the 1880s to represent the practice of traders concealing flasks of illegal liquor in their boot tops when they went to trade with Native Americans. Now my father runs a speakeasy. It’s called that because of how low you have to speak the password to gain access. It’s also called a blind pig or gin joint, but speakeasy sounds more classy in my opinion.”

Finn keeps nodding along. “Thanks for this. It’s… Nice to get away from the office. I want to run the family business but at the same time I don’t want to always obsess over it. Like Tommy does. Is that bad?”

Poor Finn. It’s come to the fact that the only way to gain his family’s respect is to strive in their world of treachery and killing. Polly once believed that he could grow up to be a normal man. But when you’re a Shelby no one knows the meaning of normal.

“In a way, I understand. My family’s trying to either fix me up with any businessman they can find or get me employed in our own brewery.” I stop walking to get Finn to look at me. “Family is important. But they can also let you down. You know that, Finn. If you’re doing something that doesn’t seem right, don’t question yourself. Ask God.  Above all else, His word is what matters.”

Finn gives a satisfied hum and looks away at the murky waters below. “If God is so righteous, why does He allow misery? Why did my mum have to die? Why did my brothers have to go to war? Why do we have to keep up this madness with the Blinders?”

All good questions. Ones that no mortal will ever have the answer to. It breaks my heart to see Finn’s innocence being swallowed up by these mobsters.

“I mean, even if Sabini wasn’t posing a threat-”

My breath hitches and my panicked eyes meet his. “Dear Lord. Sabini…”

Finn frowns at my reaction. “You’ve heard of him?”

On the East Coast Sabini isn't a name that's thrown around without concern. They have connections. And the Italians are not on good terms with the Irish.

“There are rumors even in Brooklyn,” I answer slowly. “Finn, why on Earth would you lot be involved with him?”

He shrugs. “Donno. Only overheard Tommy muttering to himself.”

I point a scolding finger. “Finn, you are a good boy. No eavesdropping on people even when they’re conversing with themselves. As for Sabini… I will ask him about it later. Let’s get back to our walk.”

Days tick by. I help Polly with more chores. Go on walks with Finn. It feels like nothing’s changed. Can it stay like this? I know it’s not a perfect world but it’s a comfortable one. I’m not the one killing or lying. But when I talk to the Blinder boys who do it almost seems like they’re normal people too.

“So you’re really from America?” A Blinder named Harry asks as we lounge in the office.

“Hasn’t Thomas told you?” I ask back.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No. Mr. Shelby doesn’t like us asking too many questions. We were only told to keep guard on you.”

“Oh well, isn't that sweet,” I mutter. A babysitter. “Just how dangerous has Small Heath gotten?”

“Don’t hold your breath, love.”

Footsteps echo throughout the hall and Thomas struts towards his office door. Why is his coat all dusty? How is he back already? Does a holiday for them last only a few days?

I get up from my chair and slowly approach. “Back so soon?” 

“Yes.”

Time to bite the bullet. “And you’re looking for a new secretary?”

“Already found one,” he replies and pours some whiskey into a glass on his desk. “Lizzy.”

Disappointment stings hard. Lizzie? A prostitute acting as a secretary? Granted the Shelbys have known her far longer so her trust must be stronger. But I’m disappointed nonetheless.

“I thought she…?”

Thomas downs his drink and gives a nod. “I changed that. I need someone who can look the other way, and I’m afraid you care too much.”

Ouch. 

“And what about Sabini?” 

The gangster’s eyes flash with warning but I push on. He’s not leaving me in the dark. He puffs out his chest and attempts to back me out of the room but I stand firm.

“Finn overheard the name and told me. That won’t go away, Thomas.”

That hardened stare makes my blood run cold. I’ve been met on the downside of Thomas’ anger only on a few occasions but this time it’s different. No words, no shouting. Just those unblinking blue eyes ordering me to stand down. So this is his secret of taming the Peaky Blinders.

“I can handle it.”

I set my jaw straight. He’s mad if he thinks this won’t end with bloodshed. I put a hand on my hip and point to the main office. “What about Polly? Ada? There are more ways he can hurt you besides pulling a gun to your head.”

Thomas sets down the glass and puts both hands on my shoulders. In an unspoken battle we glare back and forth, morals against pride. 

“I can handle it,” he repeats. “‘S not for you to stress over, love. Our family is stronger than him. Shelby Company Limited will persevere without any problems from Sabini.”

I want to believe him. But something deep down makes me consider something darker.