#this bad boy has been with me through it all though

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I'm curious how do you think Quinn would handle a breakup? Maybe one where he's being broken up with?

Boy, was this one hard to write... 90% of this is based on my last breakup, so... it's pretty... painful. SO ENJOY my misery! (I gave you a better ending than I had IRL, so you're welcome for that at least.)

"I loved you, I really did."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Quinn begged. "I still love you, Y|N."

"But you don't show it, Quinn. I've been so alone for so long and I just can't put myself through this anymore." Tears had been streaming down your face for several minutes now, since this whole spiraling conversation had started, yet you never broke eye contact with him. You wanted him to know how much this was hurting you to say and just how long you had been carrying the weight of it all.

"I tried to tell myself it would pass. It was this excuse, and that excuse, but nothing ever changed. I just don't think you can handle a relationship and your career right now. I'm tired of lying to myself. I'm tired of acting like tomorrow will magically be better. It's never better."

"Y|N I'm sorry--"

"I'm sure you are, and so am I, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

Quinn said nothing, his eyes dropped from your face while he stood there looking completely lost.

"You always say I don't deserve to feel the way I do when I'm down, because you've caused me to feel that way, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing ever changes. It's the same stuff over and over."

"I know, that's on me," he choked out, throat tight with anxiety. "I never intended to hurt you. I didn't think things were as bad as they were. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

You just shook your head in disbelief at hearing him say he hadn't noticed what he was doing to you. "You know, maybe I just asked too much from you. Maybe I demanded too much and you had no choice but to push back. I just don't know."

Quinn's eyes flick back to you immediately, "You were never too much, and I meant that every time I told you -- every time I tried to reassure you. You have always been there for me."

"And what about you? Where were you when I needed you the most? Distant, closed off, out with the guys? Even when you were beside me, you weren't really there. I begged you to do stuff with me and you'd say sure, but something would always come up. It was like you wanted an excuse to be away from me. I understood in the beginning, but fuck! I wouldn't hear from you until the next day. 'Sorry, I fell asleep. I left my phone at the hotel.' How could I not be suspicious?"

"I never cheated on you!" Quinn cried out.

"But, Quinn, the goddamn panic attacks you caused me! That hurt me!" Your voice was so much louder now, straining to remain below a yell. He was a blur in your eyes, with the tears obstructing your vision. "I begged you for the smallest of things! Christ, I'd say, 'good night, I love', and it was like you'd just ignore what I said. You never said anything the next morning! You say you love me, but you're horrible at showing it."

Quinn's voice, on the other hand, was growing smaller each time he had to plead his case. "I never fell out of love with you, Y|N, it's just like we drifted apart. I love how you treat me. I just wasn't used to being treated that way. I'm sorry if it came off like I was pushing you away."

"It was months though, Quinn. Months of feeling like I was the third wheel or just another friend. I don't like feeling so alone in a relationship. It's horrible."

"I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make this better?"

You were biting your bottom lip so hard when you heard his half-assed apology you tasted blood shortly after. "No, I don't think so. Too much has happened. I never thought we'd come to this. I thought you were going to be the last guy I had to open up to; the last guy I'd have to explain my past to. I wanted you to be my last, Quinn."

"I know, and I'm sorry I hurt you like this. I just got too comfortable and never checked in with how you were feeling. It was selfish of me. I'm not proud of any of this."

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, too. Sorry I had to bring this up out of the blue, but I've just reached my breaking point one too many times."

Even through all of your anger and sadness, you wanted to walk over to him and give him one last hug, but you had to stand your ground or all of these revelations would be for nothing. Too many times before you had talked yourself out of telling him how you had felt, but there would be no going backwards now.

"I've got to put myself first for one," you finally brought yourself to say. "I'll get my stuff out of here while you're on the road."

"Y|N--," he mumbled, his eyes so sorrowful hearing you say your goodbyes, so finite and decided.

"I hope everything works out for you, Quinn. I really do. I hope you find the person that's right for you. Someone who can handle your life and schedule. Again, I'm sorry but that doesn't appear to be me."

That was it. You had said everything you had argued with yourself over for months, in a matter of minutes, and now you were leaving his apartment. You'd linger on your decision for a moment once the door closed behind you, but you had to force yourself to go forward though your heart was begging you to go back.

On the other side of the door, you wouldn't hear him finally break down; his cries unheard and his heart shattered.

You'd reach the parking garage and get in your car but you didn't leave immediately -- almost like you were wanting to see if Quinn was just behind you, but the elevator door never opened. It was for the best. What would you have done if he had? Run back over to him? Say you were sorry? It was best not to think about the what-ifs.

It would hit you, as you rolled onto the street, that the next time you returned it would be to get your things, and likely the last time you'd ever be at his apartment. That apartment held so many memories, both good and bad. It felt more like home than your own did.

You'd find yourself in a silent argument the whole drive home until one song, on your shuffled playlist, catches your ear. It was Venice Bitch, by Lana del Rey, a song you loved until, for the first time, you noticed how much it aligned with your emotions.

"Fresh out of fucks forever, trying to be stronger for you. Ice cream, ice queen... oh god, miss you on my lips. It's me, your little Venice bitch...on the stoop with the neighborhood kids, calling out bang-bang kiss-kiss...and as the summer fades away, nothing cold can stay...you're right, I told you we'd make it work, you're beautiful and I'm insane...we're American made...give me Hallmark: one dream, one life, one lover...paint me happy and blue."

The music swells, as your tears run off your jawline. You loved Quinn so much! He had been the prince you had dreamed of, wished for and what had you done?

"Oh god, love him on my lips...touch me with your fingertips...it's me your little Venice bitch."

You'd pull in your driveway, your forehead resting against the steering wheel while you screamed out in agony at your broken heart. Your body hurt from crying for so long, throat sore from such loud emotions, and chest heavy with anxiety. Eventually, you'd exit your car and drag yourself to your front door. You couldn't just crawl into bed after all of that, you would need help in crying yourself to sleep. So, in the kitchen, you'd go through two glasses of wine while you convinced yourself you were such an idiot. Realizing you had thrown away the best thing to ever happen to you, you would being crying to loudly, it was like you were screaming. It was any wonder you hadn't awoken your sleeping neighbors next door. There was no fixing this now. What was done, was done.

All you wanted was some comfort but there would be no one to give you any. Not now. You felt you didn't deserve it anyway.

Leaving the glass and open bottle on the island, you forced yourself to the bathroom to wash your face. Seeing yourself in the mirror --how broken you looked-- had you been any weaker, you would have thrown something at it to erase the image from your mind. If only it would have been that easy to erase Quinn's sad eyes pleading for you not to leave. You wish you would have just left the light off.

In your bedroom, either out of habit or for comfort you grabbed a shirt to sleep in, which had been one of Quinn's. It hadn't taken long for the slight buzz to affect you but you felt no lighter or less phased by your actions. You wondered if you ever would.

As you figured you would, you'd cry into your pillow until flat exhaustion would pull you into sleep. That was until the buzzing of your phone would wake you from the light slumber. On the screen, "Huggy Bear" illuminated the room in bold, white letters. You ended the call, but no sooner had the phone screen gone black, it was flashing again. Like the first one, you swiped the red button and the ringing finally ceased. The next time the phone would buzz would be from a text notification. The words would send butterflies pulling your heart in one hundred different directions.

"I'm outside. Please, may I talk to you?"

Torn between leaving him out there in the cold, and actually giving him a moment to say what he needed to, you laid there for a few minutes before throwing the blankets aside and stumbling down the hall to the living room. Wiping your cheeks, you unlocked the door to find him standing there, his hoodie pulled up around his messy curls and his eyes bloodshot and wet.

You lean against the doorframe for support; arms crossed in an attempt to hide your deeper emotions.

"Y|N, I don't want things to be this way. I don't want things to end like this."

It was so hard, but you stood your ground, no matter how hard you wanted to fall into his body and tell him you were sorry.

"I'll try harder. I shouldn't have taken you for granted like I did."

Finally, you say something to him with a slight shaking of your head," This wasn't all on you. I asked too much. I'm sorry."

Your stifled cries can't be held back for long, and shortly after apologizing, you cover your face with your hands to hide your crying. Your whimpers stab Quinn in the heart all over again, still feeling he's the sole reason you're feeling this way. He steps forward, and wraps his arms around you. He's so warm against the cold night air, which causes your nails to dig into his back, allowing yourself to return his embrace.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" You cried out, holding on to him like a lifeline.

"So am I," Quinn whispered in to your ear, trying to keep you from a panic attack. "C'mon, let's get you back inside. Is that okay?"

You'd allow him to guide you back into the warmth of the your house. He would be the one to shut and lock the door, and through all of that, he'd still keep you pressed against his chest.

"I never wanted to make you cry," he confessed, never realizing how much he could miss the feeling of you in his arms.

"I can't believe I hurt you like that, Quinn," you replied, hiding your face from his.

"Don't apologize, please." he said, nearly on the brink of tears himself. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much that we even got to this point in the first place."

The fact that he had even wanted to see you, to drive outside of the city to get to you, and above all else, not telling you how much of a horrible person you had been, spoke volumes of Quinn's willingness to be better for you. He wrapped both arms around you tighter than he ever had before. You were shivering, wearing nothing but that oversized t-shirt, but you didn't care; being cold wasn't going to take away whatever this moment was with Quinn.

"Are you okay?" He asked, running a hand up and down your spine. "You're shaking."

"I don't know."

"Come on, pretty girl, let's get you back to bed, hm? If you'll let me."

You nod, but were still reluctant to let go of him. Now you were forced to face him and it felt terrible to still see him looking so heartbroken. His cheeks were still wet with fresh tears, as he had apparently been silently crying while he had been holding you. You touched his face and his eyes closed against your touch.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes would open again, and he would try to smile for you. "I'm sorry, too."

Without another world, Quinn would guide you back down the hall to your bedroom, rather familiar with where everything was in the house. The light was off, your phone lay in the middle of the bed with the screen on. Your wallpaper was a picture of Quinn and yourself at last year's Stanley Cup playoffs, and it was the only light in the room. Quinn would click on one of the bedside lamps before reaching for your phone.

"I always loved that photo," he said, lingering on the photo for a moment before shutting off the screen and laying it next to the lamp.

You'd crawl into the bed and he would move to tuck you in, "I don't want you to hate me, Quinn."

He'd stop moving to return his eyes to your face. "I don't, sweetheart. I don't think I could...ever. It hasn't crossed my mind."

"But--"

"I'm not upset with you, baby. This is on me. What you said was true: I should have paid more attention.

You gasped through the beginnings of another crying fit, "I don't deserve it!"

"Shh, shh," Quinn leaned forward to cradle your face with his hand. "I needed to hear it, baby. The truth hurts sometimes. I'll be okay once you are."

"Will you-- will you stay tonight?" You asked, terrified he could possibly deny your request, trying to stop crying.

"Of course," he managed to actually smile. "I'd love to."

"Quinn, I'm so--"

"It's okay, it's okay. We've both said it enough."

You'd sniffle with an added nod as he pulled back the covers to get in next to you. He'd turn off the lamp before you found your place against his chest.

"I'll be right here when you get up, okay?" He assured.

"Promise?" You mumbled.

"I promise. I also promise not to make you feel like this again."

You didn't know what to say. It was like he had completely forgiven you for everything. "I don't want to lose you."

"You haven't sweetheart. I'm right here," he said, running a hand through your hair. "I love you."

Quinn's admission made you cry again, "I love you, too, baby."

"Shh, shh, you don't need to cry. I'm right here. I'm yours as long as you want me."

[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (7)

previous | next

cw: bad attempt at accents

Gaz watches the door slam behind you and turns back to Price, eyebrow raised. "Well, that was'n part 'a the plan," he says dryly. He looks to Soap and Ghost then back at Price. He drops his gaze to where Price still holds his wrist and, voice laced with sadness, says, "Maybe we were too much."

Price angles his head to catch Gaz's eye. He sees his own guilt reflected there. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Ya might be right," he admits.

"Wot 'appened?" Ghost asks, looking from the chair you abandoned to the door to Price.

"Think we might-a come on too strong," Price says. "She'd been skittish at dinner. Who knows wha' she thinks 'a wha' you an' me told 'er seein' what we did tonight." He drops his head into his hands. He knows you need to know about them, but when they first tried to explain their relationship to Laswell, it took months to make her see. To understand. They simply don't have that time with you.

Price knows actions speak louder than words. But it seems they shouted when a whisper might have worked just as well.

You sleep fitfully, chased through your dreams by soft lips, deep blue eyes, a desperate plea, and a broken heart. In the morning, when you hear the others getting ready, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, you pull your things together. As the door to the barracks closes behind them, you head to the bathroom to get ready. You've paid attention to their routine and know they do their first round of training before they eat. If you head to the mess now, you can pick up some coffee and food to take with you, thus avoiding them for now.

You run quickly through the line in the mess, grabbing some fruit before you go. You carry it and a big tumbler of coffee to your office where you proceed to barricade yourself in with all the current intel you have. You check and double-check and triple-check the travel itinerary; the boys leave in four days, and despite your own emotional turmoil, you want them safe. You ignore the text you get from Laswell asking how you're getting on with the boys. Does she know something about them you don't? Instead you respond with a comment about how you know how to get to town if you need to and about Corporal Avery. You keep your thoughts about the 141 guarded.

By lunchtime, you're deeply invested in some older intelligence on the organization the 141 is taking on. It's a series of wire-taps between some of the organization's presumed leaders and local underlings from months ago. You know the audio has been scrubbed six ways from Sunday, but you wouldn't be the best if you didn't follow every hunch, and something tells you there's important information here. If you can find it.

You're so deep down the rabbit hole you don't hear the knocking on your door. You focus on your job and don't realize you've skipped lunch.

You work through to dinner, stopping when your growling stomach reminds you it hasn't had quite enough fuel to keep going at this rate. A glance at the clock shows it's 7:30, far later than you've seen the boys eat. Maybe you can eat in the mess in peace and slip into the barracks unnoticed, but you doubt it.

It's really John you're avoiding. It's not Kyle's fault he kissed his friend? lover? partner? in front of you. He couldn't know what John insinuated earlier that day. He couldn't know the kiss just about broke you. Even Simon, though he said he wants you, didn't do anything to make you feel like he was putting you on. It was Soap who snuggled close. Sure, Simon didn't stop him, but maybe that's how they comfort one another. You know their jobs are harrowing. Maybe this is something they do to cope.

You aren't thinking about food when you walk into the mess, mind still stuck on the 141, so you're surprised to see Soap sitting alone at a table. You consider ignoring him - he hasn't seen you yet - but when he glances up and sees you, his whole demeanor changes. You didn't realize how sad he looked until you think about how happy he is to see you. He waves an arm and starts to rise, looking like he's going to start shouting at you in a moment.

You hurriedly make your way to him, sitting in the space across from him as he takes his seat. "Och, Oz, was thinkin' you'd taken off." It's part tease, part scold. "We didnae knoo whare ye were. Gaz couldnae feend ye for brekkie, ahnd Ghost said no one answered yoor door at lunch."

You bite your lip and look away, torn between being ashamed and frustrated. You finally settle on curious. "I'm a big girl, Soap. I can, and do, take care of myself."

He waves a hand at you. "Aye, we knoo. But we're all keen on spendin' time wi' oor best girl now tha' yoor here." He blushes a bit at this admission but still meets your gaze. "We only have a few days, and I fer one doan wanna miss out on ye if I can help it "

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Soap has always been a sweet talker, but this feels definitively more like flirting than anything he"s said over comms.

He starts talking again, barrelling through your silence. "An' I hope I didnae make ye uncomfortable when I was restin' las' night. He doesnae look it, but Ghost makes a right fine pillow." He winks at you. "I bet you do too. Yoor soothing like tha'."

You hurry to respond. "No, no, I wasn't... uncomfortable? A little surprised I guess. Didn't know it was, well, I don't know what I thought, but it's fine. I'm fine." You know how you sound, tripping over yourself. In an attempt to deflect, you say, "I still need to eat, so..." You trail off and hope he gets the hint to leave, but it seems he's stubborn because he doesn't react. In fact, he leans forward and levers him up when you do.

"Lemme come wi'," he says. "We all had oor scran, but I can keep ye company. Pay ye back for all those nights ye made things less lonely."

You can't really say no when he puts it so sweetly. So you let him accompany you through the line, pointing out what you should try and what to avoid. You don't fail to notice the sounds he makes when you grab your selections, the hums and snickers and scoffs and questioning noises. When you're sure you have a fairly balanced plate - with some extra desserts because it's been one of those days - Soap deftly pays, ignoring your reminder that, "I get a daily meal allowance as part of this placement. It isn't even my money I'm spending." Then he snags your tray, carrying it for you back to your table.

As you eat Soap tells you more about himself, especially his family and how they want him to "settle doon wi' a nice girl." And just as John did the previous morning, Soap looks directly into your eyes as he says it. "Ne'er thought I'd feend one Ah wanted to settle doon wi'. No' really. No' until yoo, Oz."

You sputter for a moment, but really, who wouldn't. Three admissions of desire? love? in two days, and though you aren't quite as shocked by Soap's after both John and Simon, you're still troubled. "What about last night? You and Simon...you seem...close."

Soap nods his head. "Aye, we are. But it doesnae mean my heart is too full for ye." He looks at you so earnestly the recriminations die in your throat. You have feelings for four people all at the same time, after all. Who's to say the same can't be true for Soap. Is that what's going on with John, too?

You take a deep breath and force yourself to meet Soap's eyes. "What, exactly, are you saying, Soap? Are you playing around? Is this a game, or-"

He hastily cuts you off. "No! No no, nothin' li' tha'. I like ye, Oz. Have for a long while." He reaches across the table to hold your hand. "And yoor right. I have feelings foor...Ghost too." He shrugs and focuses on the table, collecting his thoughts. "Guess Ah don't see the point in limitin' mah love when each mission could be mah last." He spears you with his ice blue gaze and drives the point home when he adds, "An' Ah knoo Ah'm no' the only one who thinks tha' way."

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8

~~

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write @thriving-n-jiving @madsothree @silly-starfish @danielle143 @beelzebee @nova-willow-541 @alchemyfreak321 @lilynotdilly @eternallyelvish @viylikescats @erintaro @hidden-treasures21

[corkinavoid]

Obsessed With You by Cosmicandy

Theater gothic/Phantom of the opera

(For some horrific reason I couldn't think of a trope)

DPxDC Phantom in the Opera

9/2 sat

Went to Gotham City Opera to see Eugene Onegin with B & Dames. The performance sucked ass (as modern takes on classics usually do), but during Tatyana's aria, some tech guy dropped a rubber chicken from catwalks right on stage. I bet it was on purpose since the lead's voice sounded much similar to the sound that chicken made. Wish I could shake the dude's hand, that was truly the crescendo of the whole scene.

15/2 sun

Came by GCO on the way to WE. Had some time to spare, so decided to go in and find the rubber chicken guy to thank him for the laugh last week. Thought he might appreciate the positive feedback since he was defo yelled at for the stunt. Turns out everyone blames it on a 'ghost'. Using 'Phantom of the Opera' as a cover story is poor taste, in my opinion, but on the other hand, it worked, and who am I to judge.

17/2 mon

Got curious and pulled up the records of GCO employees. No one matches the guy I've seen on the catwalks.

18/2 tue

Blackmailed Damian into drawing the guy. No match through the face recognition program. Should have expected that, really; the one cute guy with a sense of humor I meet (or see, actually), and he doesn't exist.

20/2 thur

Can't stop thinking about the rubber chicken guy. Might have to go back to GCO and ask about the whole ghostly rumor. Last time, no one bat an eye at the 'ghost' excuse, now that I think about it. Has it happened before? Is it a go-to explanation for any prank no one wants to take credit for?

26/2 wed

Visited GCO at night. Seen the guy, but the cam footage came back corrupted when checked downstairs. So maybe the fact that his hair was floating and glowing in the dark was not a hallucination.

27/2 thur

Definitely not a hallucination! Good news: got a sample. Bad news: after analysis, the data also came back corrupted. Weird news: the hair keeps glowing even after it's been cut off.

2/3 sun

The guy's name is Danny. Ghost story confirmed. I'm having a crisis.

4/3 tue

I'm not sure if I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about him or I want to forget everything I've already learned. But then, I've already got so far. Might as well commit to the bit?

8/3 sat

Was invited to see La Traviata tomorrow. Can I still call that reconnaissance, or am I in date territory?

10/3 mon

...it was a date. On an entirely unrelated note, Teddy Hyde ruined all my attempts at coming prepared.

18/3 tue

Heard a new rumor among GCO staff members. They suspect the ghost in their opera is having a crush on Red Robin. Not sure where they've got that idea, but it sure took them some time to notice.

19/3 wed

Damian keeps staring at me at dinners. Maybe I should take that portrait of Danny that he did down from the wall over my bed.

22/3 sat

Going on a date today, and this time, it's definitely a date! Feels like I should be having a crisis over dating a ghost, but somehow, I'm only having a crisis over outfit choices.

61/0° gBs

hEy, yoU're keEEpinG a DIary¡ aboUt Me!¡ ThAt"s cuTe FUCK OFF DANNY THIS IS PRIVATE INFORMATION GET OUT heHeheEhe no~

~•~•~•~

The thing is, I loved the song. And I loved the aesthetic. And I had such a goddamn hard time figuring out how to fit them together; I went through at least three different setups before deciding fuck it imma write silly boys being silly and wish for the best.

Dare I say it turned out cute as fuck, even though I still missed the mark on theater gothic aesthetic for the most part. Anyway, have a few pictures for general vibes!

[Just so you know, if you enter 'sex with a ghost' into google, the first few results will be the lyrics to 'Sex with a Ghost' by Terry Hyde, which is why Tim's research has been rather fruitless]

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Atsushi’s first time doing breeding?

I feel like he’s be really nervous to do it, but he’d wanan do his best for his living bf and he ends up loving it so MUCH he goes into sub space.

Atsushi deserves some loving, my boy is understated in his own show ;(

♦️

Pairings: Atsushi x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Atsushi, breeding kink, overstimulation, praise, fluffy aftercare

“O-ok, you can…put it in now.” Atsushi blushes, intentionally hiding his face so that you won't see how nervous he is. Unfortunately for him, the rest of his body betrays that secrecy.

His fingers curl, gripping the sheets tighter as your fingers slide out of his wet hole, replacing them with your dick. The muscles in his back tighten, causing Atsushi to hunch over while your cock fills up his pretty hole. It's always so tight when you first enter him—no amount of fingering or orgasms do much about that. Not that that's a bad thing though.

“Don't hurt yourself, Atsushi — relax those shoulders, just like that.” you say, rubbing the tense areas of his back, all as the head of your cock pushes into his sweet spot again and again. You're not moving very fast, but the girth of your cock alone is enough to make Atsushi sweat. His knuckles have turned white from all of his sheet-gripping.

Soon enough, you ease into a faster, steady pace. Your lips brush against the back of Atsushi's neck and he shudders, feeling vulnerable under the shadow of your body. “My sweet boy, why are you so quiet today? Where are those beautiful moans of yours?” Truthfully, he was embarrassed to let any noise escape, too focused on this brand new experience to realize he'd been holding his lip between his teeth.

Sharper, more powerful thrusts finally get Atsushi to gasp; opening the door for his lovely moans and whimpers. You squeeze your partner's hips, hitting so deep in his guts that Atsushi swears you're about to ram your cock straight through his body– “Baby~ Baby, baby, baby… that little ass is going to milk me dry if you keep clenching like that- gnngh!”

As if his body knew what he wanted more than he could realize in this moment, Atsushi's hole clenched again, provoking you to fuck him harder — this is the perfect moment to try out that thing you agreed to.

“Oh fuck–!! Y'feel that, Atsushi? Feel how heavy my balls are? That's all for you, sweetheart~” you groaned into his ear, still curled around his body while your balls slap against his. Every thrust brings him closer to being filled by your warm cum, just like he asked before. “Need to- breed you, baby…please let me breed you!”

A quick 'yes' is all Atsushi can manage with his trembling voice, unable to think straight when your dick is hitting so deep and pounding his puffy hole until it becomes sore. Your warmth enters him, causing airy moans to spill out of his mouth while his eyes roll back. “Cumming-! B-breeding…my pretty boy!!” you manage through clenched teeth. You try to pull him closer still, pressing as far as humanly possible inside, while your cock pumps the last bit of cum into Atsushi's ass.

—

Beads of sweat build up on his forehead, and Atsushi's legs won't stop shaking, even though you haven't moved for a minute. His upper body falls forward gently, thanks to you, and this causes his back to arch deeply. All of that heavy breathing through his mouth has made Atsushi's throat dry, and his next words come out hoarse: “You…you really did it…” he wheezes, fingers limply resting on the sheets. “You…bred me-”

A chuckle falls from your lips, followed by a groan when you adjust yourself slightly and accidentally push on Atsushi's prostate again, making him moan so loud that you worry about neighbors hearing it.

Atsushi's brain turns to mush after that — corrupting whatever dignity and innocence he had left for the night, turning him into a babbling whore as he croaks; “Again…breed me again! Keep pounding me…please?”

And you'd be a fool not to take him up on that. You smirk at your partner's change in attitude, groping his ass before you nearly pull your cock out, only to push it back inside along with the cum still clinging to your shaft. “Oho, did my little kitty enjoy it that much?” a prolonged whine answers your question.

“You're so good for me, lovely. I'm gonna fill you up again, yeah?” you hum between every kiss pressed against Atsushi's upper back. “Just say the word, and we'll go again and again—as many times as my baby wants~”

Atsushi gulps, his body more sensitive than before, now keenly aware of the shape of your cock as it stretches his insides and leaves a bulge in his tummy. A dopey grin is plastered on his face while you snap your hips against his — your voice sings sweetly every praise you can imagine, every drag of your cock against his insides brings you that much closer to breeding him again.

And his own pretty voice eggs you on—to fuck him a little deeper, pounding his trembling body into the mattress so hard that Atsushi watches stars dance in front of him. His eyes blow wide open, then flutter as you cum inside of him once more.

Your breath is hot on his flushed skin, but your lover really doesn't mind, not when you, quite literally, fucked his brains out. Atsushi is limp and only half coherent when you eventually pull out, letting you roll him over and position him a bit more comfortably so that you can wipe his body down.

For the rest of the night, he's your little cuddle buddy who curls up against you, thanking you for being so good to him and making him feel good during this new experience.

[hyog-blog]

Emotionally this scene is so hot and intense. Zhuo Yichen demanding answers from Zhao Yuanzhou, for it, for him to make sense, especially in the context of his own (already awakened) feelings. And it must be driving our boy literally insane - the contradiction of Zhao Yuanzhou being his family's killer, the one demon who single-handedly destroyed the Demon Hunting Bureau (which was kind of everything ZYC ever knew at that point, that it was it, his life was just that, and his future as well).

And Zhu Yan destroyed not only his family, nearly cutting down the whole lineage apart from Zhuo YIchen, but also the organization, that was put to a halt and nearly ceased to exist, and he literally took whatever meaning Zhuo Yichen's life had and threw it in the gutters. So ZYC was not simply alone, with his whole family dead, but also meaningless and without a place to go, or to be, or something to do in this world, his ancestral home becoming a limbo of sorts, with him - a lost soul that had no means to move on, to start living again.

Because he was an anomaly from the start and whatever he would become - would always be in the context of demons, and BIng Yi, and murders, and investigations, and all that weird stuff that most people considered as nightmares personified. He was already a part of all that even when he didn't really know it himself, just following his brother around, just being, just going through that archive of books and writings about monsters that were actually his kin in a way (and when he learns that Bing Yi was, actually, a demon, in my headcanon that would have shattered his self-identity quite a bit, at least for some time).

And now we meet this boy, already a young man, who has single-handedly restored the Demon Hunting Bureau, finding it in himself to build his own meaning of life from scratch, getting back that place in life he thought was his and that it mattered, and that his service to all those people was what he's supposed to do (and probably, the only thing he could do being an anomaly, an outcast, someone stuck between the worlds of humans and demons). He has more in common with Wen Xiao than we might think upon meeting him first. She's a bridge between the demon and human worlds, but he's also a bridge, or rather a shield protecting the human world from the demons and, as he later learns, maybe simply protecting the innocent, be it demon or human, from the ones that want to hurt them, no matter what realms they come from.

And so he meets Zhao Yuanzhou having just figured things out for himself, and suddenly learns that the world, again, isn't so black-and-white and even that gruesome hideous murder had so many layers to it and wasn't at all what he perceived it to be. And the man who had been his dreamless nightmare all these years turned out to be a whimsical creature that only appeared to be dangerous when he first saw him, yet possessed no killer intent whatsoever. And in fact, turned out to be a protector as well, trying to protect everyone from himself first and foremost.

And he watches this gorgeous mysterious man, as complex as he is, getting close to Wen Xiao, whom Zhuo Yichen adores more than any other woman in this world (emphasis on woman) and he already has feelings for Zhao Yuanzhou as well, however suppressed and unfathomable they are for now, and he wants this man to give him answers, but whatever Zhao Yuanzhou can give him - it's not that. It's not the certainty of being bad enough to just kill him and be done with it, and it's definitely not a certainty that he deserves to be killed at all. And even not the certainty of him seeking death at this point, even though he continues to talk about it, but it's not so strong now, not to the extent that it was before, when Zhuo Yichen first met the Great Demon.

And this is where he finds himself that night, when Zhao Yuanzhou finally approaches him for that don't-hesitate-to-murder-me pep talk, and Wen Xiao is brought up, and his newly found will to live (or something close to it) through that affection only, but Zhuo Yichen doesn't know it yet, that it's not just that affection that keeps this demon from deteriorating into the depths of despair facing that goddamn horrifying blood moon all over again, that destroyed so many lives, including the life of this gorgeous young and so very sensitive Zhuo Yichen. That there's another type of affection and feeling and need that draws him to Zhuo Yichen that night in an attempt to protect him from this, as best as he can, giving him that immunity from the one-word spell, and asking him to live well no matter what happens next, knowing already that it might turn into a bloodbath at some point.

But this time ZYZ is as proactive as he can be, and he trusts Zhuo Yichen enough to kill him or at least to stay alive and protect Wen Xiao. It will be bad, he knows that much, but at this moment and in this instance he comes to spend this time of his own uncertainty with Zhuo Yichen not only because the boy needs this to stay strong and to realize what he's actually facing, but also because Zhao Yuanzhou needs him to stay strong himself with whatever ZYZ is facing again, with that glaring possibility of losing control and wreaking havoc everywhere, with this one young man, truly, being the only one who could stop him at this point. Kill him. Save him from this torment. And it's heavy, and Zhao Yuanzhou knows it is, so he goes for that talk and talks carefully around the very notion of ending his life, but also - about that and that only, sensing Zhuo Yichen's confusion as if it was truly his own, and that turmoil of emotions, and that need to understand, to make everything make sense somehow.

And so they talk. And do some magic. And none of them gets much relief after that conversation is over, but there's a certainty now. That at least this one boy would be protected from the Great Demon's magic. And if he has a chance of surviving the blood moon, than so does Wen Xiao (who probably is protected by their contract anyway, but Zhuo Yichen isn't, and it matters to Zhao Yuanznou already oh-so-much).

And Zhuo Yichen is left even more strained and confused than before because of all the contradictions he's facing, this demon acting not like an enemy, even though he's about to become one, but rather like a caring friend. And what is he supposed to make out of all that? When he simply doesn't, just doesn't want to kill him, no matter what.

[impactdial]

ough ok sorry to like the two people who wanted the epilogue/bonus chapter to the sanuso feelings realization fic but i ended up rewriting a good chunk of it so uhhh please bear with me!

in the meantime, here's a quick preview! :

The first thing Usopp notices upon groggily awakening, aside from the constant agonizing pressure throbbing in his temple, is that he’s sleeping in a bunk that isn’t his own. He knows it’s not his bunk, primarily because he’s staring up at the underside of one of the berth’s, obviously, but the faint, unmistakable odor of tobacco and peppery cologne that’s sharply tingling his currently sensitive sense of smell immediately gives it away. Usopp groans, cursing his luck. He must’ve climbed into Sanji’s bunk last night, too drunk and uncoordinated to attempt scaling the latter leading to his own bunk right above. 

This is what he gets for overindulging; he should’ve stopped drinking after his second beer (to be fair, his stein was large and filled to the very brim each time), but Shachi and the other Heart pirates kept refilling his stein after every story and party trick to keep him going. And, of course, after having his ego inflated, his normally immovable self preservation had gone the wayside. Case in point: being ballsy enough to crawl into Sanji’s bunk without a care in the world, consequences be damned. And knowing the cook’s temper, there definitely would be consequences.

Usopp lies there for a while, eyes scrunched closed and nose wrinkled in discomfort. He probably really should be attempting to get up, waves of nausea ripping through his stomach. Sanji’s already going to let him have it for being such a pest last night; he really doesn’t need to make it worse by accidentally puking in the cook’s bunk too. 

The second thing Usopp notices is that he’s somehow wearing his bonnet, startled by the realization when he attempts to comb fingers through his curls and finds it secured properly, which he thinks is somewhat strange considering if he was too drunk to climb into his own bunk, how’d he remember to put his bonnet on? The sniper doesn’t linger long on that train of thought though, chalking it up to how out of it he had been the previous night. The spicy aroma of Sanji’s cologne is starting to get to him, and as he carefully sits up in the bunk, something that was draped over him pools into his lap. Usopp stares at it for a moment, his slow, fuzzy brain processing. Once he realizes it’s Sanji’s blazer that he’s been using as a blanket, he quickly tosses it off, mortified. Great. Perfect! Not only has he commandeered the blond’s bunk, he’s stolen his clothes and presumably dirtied them; Usopp knows he probably smells just as bad as he feels right now. 

With that, Usopp begins the process of dragging himself out of the bunk to clean up. It’s probably still morning; the boys’ room is empty except for Usopp, so everyone must be either still in the galley or have already started their day. The sniper tries to shower as quickly as possible, not wanting to incur Sanji’s wrath anymore than he presumably already has by missing breakfast, even if he really didn’t have an appetite right now. 

Last night had been a disaster, in Usopp’s opinion, after Sanji had stepped in. His head was a little fuzzy on the details, but he knows he was pretty flippant towards their cook. Their hot headed, rigid cook, the last person on this ship to take well any accidental playful flirting. Not that Sanji had a problem with Usopp being bisexual; but, well, it’s not the first time his mouth has gotten him in trouble, so to speak. Regardless, it was shitty to make Sanji uncomfortable when he clearly had no interest in guys like Usopp. (Or rather, men in general.)

He knows it’s not nothing that the cook had taken on the task of pulling him out of his binge drinking and directing him to bed. They were close, after all, in a way that was distinctly unique even amongst the Strawhats, but Usopp knew better than to test the limits of Sanji’s softer tolerance towards him. Truthfully, the cook had probably seen him making a proper fool out of himself in front of Law’s crew and was attempting to stop him from embarrassing himself further, but Usopp had to go and ruin it by throwing himself at Sanji until they were both in a heap on the floor, embarrassing the blond as well. 

Great job asshole, Usopp chides himself forlornly, couldn’t have fucked that up more spectacularly than you already did. 

To make up for the trouble, he’ll offer to wash dishes for a month. Maybe he could also fix any broken appliances–wait, no, he already does that for Sanji regularly. Shit. He’s got to think of something to smooth over any tension between them.

[cepalliumtm]

Pretty For You

yan!popular girl x gn!reader

CW: yandere tendencies, obsession

a/n: honestly wanted my own take on the yandere popular girl trope. also fun fact: this used to be a yan!pretty boy drabble lol. having a blast with this so just... enjoy. would i do more? i have no idea.

You hated that she was so beautiful. You hated how her smile would light up the room, how her voice sounded like the first day of spring, and how she even had a pleasant aroma. She's the definition of a princess funny how it sounds.

And somehow, she decided her "prince" is you.

You're just another pebble in the sand compared to a polished marble, another face in the crowd. Just like the others, you've had an eye for beauty, albeit you try to find a way to keep it at an arm's distance in fear of breaking it in your hands. You've always accepted that you were a dime a dozen, not particularly outstanding although not ugly. Just plain… you.

Watching what you could call the school idol from across the room, you've accidentally learned about her through passing conversations from your classmates and people passing through the halls. How could you not? Somehow she was the hot topic ever since she transferred, and in your tiny town it was a big deal.

But she wasn't the type you'd pay attention to. The difference in status is just too great, considering that she's the school beauty and you're a nobody.

Perhaps it was pity that caused her to get so attached to you.

You honestly had no clue what you were thinking when you saved her from the other girls that were picking at her, even though you're not exactly the hero type. Something about her looking pathetic like that, teary eyed and helpless, possibly irritated you to the point where you had to do something. You really should've only passed her by.

Because she has a bad habit of latching onto things too hard.

Now, the school idol follows you around like a lost puppy, begging for your attention like a dog would for their treat. You probably could've gotten away with trying to teach her tricks too. Like 'stay', or 'sit', or 'keep away from me'. You probably should've, given her tendencies. But looking into her sweet and pathetic stature, and how could you do anything else?

Her sweet demeanor is literally draining you of your energy. Your friends feel it too.

And it doesn't help that she's as beautiful as a princess. Your very own princess.

You're suffocating under the expectation of being the best already. Even before she bested you in terms of popularity, looks, and now she sweettalks the teachers to improve her grades, and it works. Even budging the most hardened of hearts is her specialty, no sweat.

Imagine your shock that wow, of course she's also rich. How else could she have the time to maintain her looks? Just looking at what she has makes you sick; you almost want to strangle her and drown her in the piles of gold, bathe her in the sweetest of poisons, hoping her pretty face would be tainted by the bruises left from your touch.

All. For. You.

And she smiles. Smiles at all the love she can provide for you. Maybe she's impressed you so much that you'd want to stay with her, be with her forever. After all, she's been so lonely; she's never had anyone else over. And now you… if she could have you, she would trade in everything else in the world. There's nothing for you to be envious over.

It's all for you if you just accept her.

And you couldn’t. Not at all. Not after all the pain and suffering you've given her. Not after all the time you spent, neglecting her because you couldn't stand her face. Not when she manipulates the situation around her to her advantage against you. You're sick of all of it. There's nothing more you want to do than to call it off.

Of course, she cries. Begs for you to reconsider. Makes a scene so the other students could see how much of a bully you're being. How bad of a friend you've been to her. All your bad deeds, your jealous thoughts and your struggle to surpass her when from the snap of her fingers she's handed anything she wants, it all floods back to you. And you know if you reject her again, there's no telling what she would do.

A princess always gets her happily ever after, with everything she wanted and the prince of her dreams. Can't you be hers?

[rarepairdumpster]

Firelight Viktor AU Part 1

Inspired by THIS ART

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Trauma Discussion, Hint to previous SA, Honestly this AU is a lot of politics with underlying sexual tension

Firelight Viktor taking full advantage of Silco's bad depth perception to race circles around him.

Silco eventually grabbing him and pinning him down and snarling in his ear about choosing the wrong person to be toying with.

And then Silco hears the sound of something priming, and he looks down to see a freakishly advanced pistol a hairs breadth from his belly.

"You sure about that?" Viktor asks, voice carrying an almost mechanical overtone.

Silco smirks and releases Viktor, holding his hands up. "That's quite the weapon you have. Fascinating engineering."

"Keep moving. Don't stop until I say," Viktor orders 

Silco complies, but he's endlessly amused.

Finally, Viktor is back on his feet, gripping something to keep his balance. The pistols aim never wavers though.

Next thing Silco knows, a blast of energy hits him. He wakes up a while later, groggy and sore from where he'd slammed into the ground.

"A stunner," Silco growls, anger chasing away his grogginess. And then he laughs. "Ingenious, Viktor." 

Because he already put 2 and 2 together.

The next time Viktor comes home from the lab, Silco is sitting on his couch smoking and drinking brandy.

"Do sit down, Viktor. I thought we might finish our conversation."

Viktor can't get over the audacity of Silco inviting him to sit down in his own fucking house.

Viktor chides himself for not grabbing his stunner before he left the lab. "I'm not interested."

"No?" Silco smirks. "Then I suppose there won't be an issue when Chief Marcus arrives in ten minutes."

Viktor freezes. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" Silco's gaze sharpens. "As far as the firelights are concerned, I'm an unscrupulous monster; isn't that so?" 

Silco takes a sip of his brandy, casual as fuck.

Viktor looks down and his grip on his cane tightens. "You flooded the Lanes with Shimmer. You're constantly sending your enforcer dogs after us. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Flooded the Lanes with Shimmer?" Silco laughs at that. Actually, full-body laughs for about 3 seconds. "As powerful as I am, I can't force an entire city to become addicts."

Silco pushes a hand through his hair, laugh fading to a resigned smile.

"I don't make anyone take Shimmer," Silco continues. "It fills a medical need that Piltover has both caused and neglected to treat. Addiction....I can't control that. All I can do is help mitigate the torture of withdrawal."

"It-Its not medicine," Viktor repeats what he's heard Ekko say dozens of times before. "No one has ever been helped by it. Just hurt."

"It is medicine." Silco taps the side of his face and chuckles, without mirth. "Without Shimmer, I'd be dead on the side of the road. I was the first person to use it. To be helped. And I fought to make it available to others. And the firelights have been trained to look at me like I'm an animal with no compassion. Because that boy, the saviour, carries a personal grudge against me."

"He said you killed Benzo and Vander," Viktor spits. "I don't blame him for having a grudge."

"Did he also tell you I killed the enforcer that Benzo and Vander were about to sell us all out to?" Silco raises an eyebrow. "Sit, boy, and I'll tell you my side of things."

Viktor purses his lips, but sits, as far from Silco as he can

"You seem older than the others. Where were you during the Day of Ash?" Silco asks once Viktor has settled in.

"Hiding," Viktor answers, frowning severely, "with my mother. We lived on the Entresol. She was ill and I'm...."

Viktor gestures to his leg. "But we heard the screams. The gunshots."

"We orchestrated it, Vander and I," Silco explained. "Our plan was to take control of the bridge and if we could, the port. If we had something Piltover required to survive, they would be forced to listen and negotiate." Silco's fist balls up and his jaw tenses. 

"We had a mole. Within our organization. I had been so careful with who we let in, but I was distracted." He thinks of Vander and Felicia and the kids. All liabilities. All weaknesses.

"Topside knew we were coming," Silco sighed. "We were out manned and outgunned before we even stepped foot on that bridge."

Viktor bows his head, listening. It had been a massacre. He remembers seeing all the bodies piled up the next morning, waiting to be buried. Remembers the flies buzzing around, crawling between parted lips and over open eyes locked in terror. He remembers the smell. He almost smells it now, thinking about it. 

"The enforcers cut through us like paper," Silco says quietly, voice little more than whisper now, as if his words might disturb the past. "We never stood a chance. Most of us were slaughtered without mercy. And those of us that survived.....we were hunted like animals, chased through the Lanes so hard we thought we'd never make it. We had to split up, try to separate their numbers,  give someone a chance to live and keep fighting."

Viktor is enthralled as he listens, unconsciously leaning forward a bit as Silco speaks. He had never heard this before, from anyone. No one talked about it and now he knew why.

"I ran to where Vander and I said we would meet if things went south," Silco swallows thickly and his fingers trail down the side of his face. "But he had gone mad. He blamed me for all the death. Said that I was the one responsible. His own hand did this to me."

When his fingers trail down the side of his face, some of the foundation/concealer is rubbed away, leaving patches of sickly grey skin visible.

It also reveals how deep the gouges from Vander's nails really are, like craters almost. He looks like he was mauled by an animal. A large cat or a wolf or something.

To think this was inflicted on him by a man?!

"I got away, barely," Silco goes on. "If it hadn't been for the Doctor and shimmer, the river toxins would have taken far more from me than just my eye."

"I...I don't know what to say," Viktor says softly, mind reeling.

Silco smirks. "You don't have to say anything." He finishes his brandy and sets the glass down before standing up. "You're smarter than this, Viktor. Just think about what I've said."

"Wait," Viktor says, raising a hand. "What did you mean when you said Vander and Benzo were going to sell us out? You've explained why you were at odds, but not that."

Silco sighed. "When the rebellion failed, Vander became weak. The only reason the lanes were saved was because he made a deal with topside." Silco's expression turned sharp. "He peddled our lives like tokens in the name of 'peace' when all it did was allow Piltover to keep their boot on our necks."

Viktor hesitates, uncertain.

"And Benzo encouraged him," Silco spat. "An insidious voice whispering in his ear. I don't have proof of who betrayed us on the Day of Ashes, but I have my suspicions."

Silco took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

"I don't blame Ekko," Silco finally says, causing Viktor's eyes to widen in surprise. "He didn't know what Benzo really was like. I doubt many people did."

his mind flashes back to a time in the last drop where Benzo was too drunk and cornered Silco and wouldn't take no for an answer

"At the end of the day, Ekko is just a misguided child looking for someone to blame for his heartache."

Silco can see that Viktor is lost in thought, so much information overloading him a bit. "You know where to find me," Silco finally says, tossing a card with a neon symbol that resembled an eye onto the end table.

Silco is gone before Viktor emerges enough to say "Hm?"

Part 2 Arch + Woods

[purble-turble]

I know TT Red takes place Season 1, but how do you think he handles S2 to S5?

There's so many ways this could potentially go, where on so many ocassions TT Red goes to the future in the middle of an adventure and gets traumatized way more than how much LBD did to MK.

Season 4 would be such a mess, especially if all of TT Red's experiences got documented in the scroll of memory once he got sucked in, and then MK and Mei had to go through so many of these futures trying to find TT Red.

AND SEASON 5. Oh dear I think I know how this would make sense now:

This is post season five and TT Red's way of going "I don't want you killing yourself all over again, this is for your protection. Just like for Wukong, I want you to be out of trouble. Please trust me I love you dearly (BUT NOT TOO MUCH) and I wanna make sure you're alive and well."

TT Red becomes an absolute wreck by the end of lmk so far and I think it would absolutely show during this sort of timeline.

Oh my god.. ok, so that Season 5 aftermath you proposed is great, but I HAVE to focus on what you said about the memory scroll for season 4 because it’s fucking amazing!

Red Son gets pulled into the memory scroll, but instead of just being his past in its relation to Journey to the West, EVERYTHING he has done, including all the futures he has had to visit, all have had an influence on how the scroll appears for him.. He’s got some wild, temporal/interdimensional nonsense going on with him that makes the scroll act in unusual ways, so honestly why are they even surprised? 😂

MK and the gang all have to find their way through a bunch of different universes in which there are different versions of themselves but also almost every one of them has a Red Son, too.. So not only do they have to watch out and not lose track of each other lest they not know which of them is which (they definitely do at points, maybe even all getting split up and ending up in a future of their own) but they also need to figure out which of these Red Sons is actually THEIR Red Son so they can jar his memory and get him back to his normal self… this is easier said than done.

Also, it gives them all a little taste of just how fucked up TT Red’s solo time adventures are sometimes. They see versions of the world where the city is destroyed, where demons have destroyed Pigsy’s Noodles, where one or several of them have died, that one where Red Son sacrificed himself and MK is left sad and hollow.. not all of them are so bad, though. Maybe they get lucky and stumble upon one where it’s way far in the future and Red and MK are happily married with a family, and MK hopes beyond hope pLEASE let this Red Son be HIS Red Son… it’s not, but boy that would have been nice if that was his, like, “true self” or whatever this scroll is doing to them.

Eventually they make it to the start of it all: Demon King Red’s timeline. MK is desperate at this point to find his Red Son, but when he makes his way into this lavish throne room and sees a king version of Red sitting on a throne, he’s like “oh FUCK no. That is definitely NOT my Red Son.” All his friends are hemming and hawing like, well, maybe it could be?? Isn’t that how Red Son sees himself? Isn’t becoming that guy what he’s afraid of??? It’s kinda shitty, but maybe the scroll WOULD turn Red Son into Demon King Red.

MK isn’t convinced. He insists that it’s NOT POSSIBLE. In fact, he uses his Smartie Kid brain and deduces that, for all the rest of them, they were lost in a role of a person that they used to be, whether it was a reincarnation or an ancestor or whatever their deal was… but Red Son has never been (and NEVER WILL BE, MK insists) Demon King Red. So they’ve been going about this all wrong. They shouldn’t be trying to find the Red Son for each of these timelines and seeing if their Red has been turned into them.. they should be trying to find wherever their own Red Son would be in within that timeline!

In the case of Demon King Red, MK remembers what he was told about his time in the palace.. he dodges a hug from the mad king, leaving his friends to hold him off, and scoots right past him to make a break for the dungeon. He finds his Red Son locked up down there- short hair, tattered jacket, square glasses and all.. but something new as well: a red circlet on his head.

When he spots MK he starts to panic, he insists that MK go and leave him there. He shouldn’t have come to rescue him- he’s not worth it! If the mad king finds MK there, it will be all over, and freeing Red Son isn’t worth the risk! MK pries open the cell and reaches out for Red, insisting that isn’t true. He’ll always be there for him, even when he’s at his lowest because he loves him! Red Son still doesn’t go for his hand, falling back and curling in on himself in despair. He insists again that that makes no sense… MK should hate him. He would be fully justified to leave Red behind to rot in this cell forever.. it’s no less than he deserves.

MK has to grab him, cupping his face forcefully in his hands and making Red Son look up at him again to stop him from spiraling. No, he shouts, that’s wrong! Red Son doesn’t deserve this! Not one bit of it! He has worked so SO hard to change himself into a better person, and the fact that he is has been through so much and seen so many terrible possible futures but is still trying so hard means he is already a thousand times better than Demon King Red. He is NOT Demon King Red, and thanks to his own tireless efforts, he never will be! All he has to do is not give up that hope to make this better.

Finally, this gets through to Red Son. The fillet around his head disappears, and he blinks a few times in confusion, coming out of the stupor the scroll had put him in… of course the two of them are still in the dungeon, which is extra confusing for Red Son, but MK just takes his hand and leads him back to his friends. They’re still fighting to hold off the scroll version of Demon King Red, and I think upon seeing TT Red Son out of his cell and back to normal, he probably morphs into a horrific, ink monster version of the king.. and let’s say this is the scene where Mei’s sword gets broken and they all get separated again, so things go back to the canon plot line :U

Gosh that was fun.. I do love fitting my AUs into the canon plot~

[mjrtaurus]

"Where's my other grandma?"

Gabe asks Crocodile this one day when they're reading together in the drawing room. He really shouldn't have been surprised. That particular query was bound to come up at some point, especially since Urpi's been dropping by. If this were a few months ago, he might have shut down or snapped at the boy, but Crocodile is not keen on repeating that mistake. But he also can't lie to his son.

"She passed away, hayati. She's been gone for a long time"

"Oh," he's quiet for a bit as he absent-mindedly tugs at the carpet for a minute "Did someone make a clone of her?"

Croc has to take a deep breath at that. It's not Gabe's fault in the slightest, but they really need to sit him and Gryphon down at some point and explain that regardless of what the Vegapunks cook up in their labs, cloning is not an undo-button for death. There are things and people that truly are lost for good. But that's besides the point.

"I highly doubt it. She died a long time ago and wasn't someone the World Government would have taken notice of ("at least not for that reason" is what's left unsaid)."

"Oh... what was she like?"

Hell if he knows. His mother perished before he had left the haze of infancy, and in a way that was slow and torturous. Of course he doesn't tell Gabe the last part but he's honest once more about being just as in the dark on the details as his son. Well, he did know some things.

"She had hair like mine. And there were patches of her skin that glimmered like jewels. I think they might have been fishman scales"

"Like ours?"

Ours? What could he possibly mean by that?

When he asks, Gabe climbs up on the couch and lifts his shirt sleeve so Crocodile can see the tiniest little patch of lime-green scales growing right under the transparent tube of green blood.

"You have some on your neck next to your bumpies. I saw them when you were carrying me to bed last night. We match! 😊"

(Gabe calls scutes 'bumpies' and I just find that really cute)

“… What… happened to her, Baba?” It’s asked cautiously. There’s something in Gabe that’s always felt uneasy and upset when thinking about this branch of the family tree. He can’t place it, but it all just feels sad.

And maybe that’s why he’s asking about it.

What can Crocodile even say? How can he even explain?

“Hayati… you know how Tayta loves me? How he’s there for me if I’m hurt or sick, or even if it’s just to be there?” Okay, strong start. Let’s hope the comparison he’s setting up actually works.

“Yeah?” Gabe says expectantly, star-bright eyes wide.

“My father- not Pops, just to be clear- wasn’t like that for my mother. He was… not nice to her. Did bad things to her. And to me. He… didn’t love either of us.” He spoke carefully, riding the line between not wanting to sugarcoat and not wanting to distress.

“When I was four, she got very sick… and he wouldn’t help her. One night I feel asleep next to her, and when I woke up… she didn’t. I never even knew her name.” He remembers the rattle of her breath, how her scales and scutes slowly but surely lost their iridescent luster, how her hair had thinned. How still she was… too still…

Gabe looked at him as if what he was saying was the most alien thing he’d ever heard. Crocodile lays a kiss on his brow, and holds him close.

The silence is heavy, but Gabe’s tears haven’t come just yet. He can tell from the quiet that his son is putting pieces of some bigger picture together.

“…Is that why Vang covers his eyes?” The boy asks, resting his head on his father’s shoulder. He sounds… sad.

“It’s part of it…” Crocodile sighs, carding his fingers through starlight silver hair. “Though not all.”

There’s more to Rocks D Xebec than being a horrible partner and father. Much, much more. But for tonight, that’s enough to chew on.

To divert the conversation, he looks over the little scutes and scales that had cropped up on Gabe’s arm. They were new. Very new. Possibly the cause for the irritable streak the child had been having these last few days. And the voracious appetite.

They are very uniform and healthy, like little plates of bright green armor. Crocodile remembers how his had come in a little wonky, with plenty of uneven edges. He takes it as a comfort, knowing Gabe was far healthier and happier than he had been at his age.

Come to think of it, Crocodile’s had only come in when he was sixteen. He imagines early life malnourishment and eventually running out of puberty blockers had something to do with it.

“They itch when they come in, don’t they?” He asks, scarred lips turned into a lopsided smile.

“They feel like feathers, ‘cept more.”

[stevethehairington]

rando q! but how long have you had this blog ?

omg so ive had this blog since january of 2013 so we have Officially surpassed 10 years 😂😂 WOW.

[bayetea]

seeing non-black people critique rick's portrayal of black characters is interesting sometimes. only like 30% of the critiques I see make any sense to me to be honest

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[arolesbianism]

I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.

[genderqueerdykes]

if you are a trans boy, especially a teenage trans boy, i wanted to say that as a trans man in their 30's, you have my deepest respects and condolences for what you may be going through right now.

it has become socially acceptable and basically online custom to bully teenage trans boys & mascs, call them cringy, or excuse misgendering them for whatever reason. people put trans boys on this pedestal of "must perform masculinity and manhood to cartoonish degrees" even though they're still children.

people make trans boys fight for their manhood before they can even be boys. i am sorry people can be so judgmental and harsh on you. you are not wrong for wanting to be a boy. you are experiencing something wonderful. it's okay if you still want to be a boy even if people have treated you poorly, or tried to make you feel bad for being a boy. there is nothing wrong with being a boy.

it's okay if you never socially transition. it's okay if you're afraid to come out because it's not safe. it's okay if you never change your outward appearance. it's okay if you try very hard to pass but struggle to. it's okay if you wear "women's" clothing and shoes, bras, makeup, etc., it's okay if you're gay and love other men. it's okay if you're scared of hrt. it's okay if you don't want surgery. it's okay if you mainly occupy girl's spaces still. people will find every reason to pick these things apart and ridicule trans boys for, but they are all perfectly fine experiences that do not make you any less of a boy. you are the one who is in control of your transition, presentation, and state of being- you should be able to prioritize your safety over the comfort of random strangers who have no impact over how you live your life.

i've been put through this too, but later in life as i came out when i was an adult. people still try to make me feel bad for identifying as a trans man, for whatever reason they have in their head to justify hatred of a trans person. i've had enough. there will never be an excuse for how people try to excuse the infantilization and abuse that trans men and trans boys face.

take care of yourselves, no matter what age you are, if you are a trans boy, man, or masc you deserve to know that other trans men care about you, especially when people are scrambling to find ways to punch down on you. there are people who suck, but there are also a lot of people who care about you. keep your chin up. you know who you are

[ourceliumnetwork]

i did the biggest and scariest of the things on my list (the last thign on my list in fact) and it took like. MAYBE 5 minutes total including login time navigation and page loading.

now i get to have fancy Oreo Poptarts because i'm a big strong boy whose knee is slightly dislocated (it's fine i just went too hard and i'll wrap it up here in a minute) and did a big scary thing and also now gets to fully devote brain power to anxiety about the (potential) hole between two of my heart chambers and the accompanying doctor's appointment tomorrow morning.