#imon rambles

[isekyaaa]

It catches me off guard how many notes some posts on my other blogs get because I don't see all the activity on my activity pages and I don't check the posts directly so like I'll visit one day to see 11 other people also think it's funny Mondstadt forgot about Dvalin.

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

I think Hunk and Pidge look confused because they probably honest to god thought he was going to write allura. Honestly I thought he’d choose allura as well but HE PICKED KEITH

[iluvyoutxt-moved]

me loggign onto this blog to post more and more nonsense abt mc

[endless-whump]

Simon/Oliver: “Do It”

CW: caretaker forced whumper, gun violence, character death in dream, panic attack, self blaming, blood, referenced gore (but not described), intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, conditioning, forced violence, nightmare, self loathing, blink and you’ll miss it noncon reference

Masterlist

Ok so I got my shit together and wrote a lil thing for day 12 of @whumpmasinjuly !  This is for day twelve’s prompt: Do It

---

“Do it.”

Simon’s hand shook as he held the gun, the barrel resting against Oliver’s forehead.  He was chained down, unable to move away from the threat as he sobbed.  Simon wanted so badly to move the gun away, to throw it across the room or turn it against Cedric, but he couldn’t.  He felt frozen, unable to move even an inch away from threatening the person he cared about most.

“N,No,” He got out through gritted teeth.  He couldn’t even make himself look away, forced to watch Oliver try to cringe away from the cold metal of the gun.  Try to cringe away from him.  He couldn’t stand it, unable to stop the tears from falling, chest heaving with the effort it took to breathe through the panic.

“Do it.” Cedric repeated, harsher.  He was behind Oliver, running his hands through the boys hair in a deceptively reassuring gesture before grabbing a fistful of it, pulling his head back to expose his face, forcing the pair to look each other in the eye.

“You will do it.”  It was an order, not a question.  No matter how much Simon thought he recovered, he never was able to disobey an order.  He couldn’t escape it.  This was what he was made for, to be a weapon.  He was a danger to Oliver, created to keep him in line and hurt him and keep him captive.  It felt like he was still keeping Oliver captive, in a way, even now.

His finger was over the trigger guard now, moving without him trying to even as he resisted, choking on a sob.  He couldn’t stop, unable to do anything but watch himself put his finger over the trigger, grip on the gun tightening.

“Thats right.”  Cedric hummed, running his hands through Oliver’s dark curls, keeping him in place with the possessive gesture.  “Go on, then. He’s no use to me now, because of you. You did this, Simon.”

“I saved him.”  Simon snapped.  “I saved him from you..you sick fuck. I got him out.”

Cedric just smiled, kneeling down next to Oliver to pull him close. He slid a hand around his throat, tilting his chin up further.  Oliver was crying, eyes wide with fear as he looked up at Simon, but he didn’t talk.  He didn’t beg, or scream, or anything, he just stared at Simon with a pleading look as he sobbed.

“No,”  The man hummed, thinking.  “No, I don’t think so.  I think you ruined my pet, and you’ve given me no choice but to dispose of it.  That's what you’re here for, after all, isn't it?”

“NO,” Simon begged, shaking, his composure shattering in the face of what he was about to be forced to do.  “No, no please sir, please don’t- don’t make me do this.”  He couldn’t, he’d never be able to live with himself.  He’d take any amount of training and torture Cedric could give him before doing this to Oliver.  He’d rather take his place in everything that's ever been done to him.

He’d rather die

But he couldn’t.  All he could do was watch himself press the gun firmly against Oliver’s forehead, unable to even close his eyes as he pulled the trigger.  

The sound of the gunshot shook him to his core as he watched Oliver’s head snap back, and he crumpled to the ground limply.  

He felt like a puppet, his strings cut to let him fall to his knees, the gun clattering to the ground.  He didn’t know where Cedric went but he didn’t care, gathering Oliver into his arms and holding him desperately.

“Oliver, Ollie no, no no no, come on I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, PLEASEwake up.”  There was a gunshot wound, oh my god there was a gunshot wound, he did that, he did that, he shot him.  

Maybe Cedric was never there in the first place.  Maybe this was all in Simon’s head, this was him, he did that, oh my god-

“Oliver come on, come on-” Simon begged, clutching the unmoving body.  “Oh my god, fuck, oh my god-”

He couldn’t breathe, his palm pressed up against the wound, unable to look into those lifeless eyes.  This was all his fault.  He rocked back and forth, hands covered in blood and shirt covered in blood and that was Oliver’s blood.  He could still see the tear tracks down Oliver's face, horror tearing him apart as he hyperventilated.

There was blood everywhere, and he could feel..he could feel the back of Oliver’s head, the larger exit wound, and he felt sick. He didn’t want to think about what was on his hands, what was pooling onto the floor around him.

“Please, I’m so sorry-”  He ran his hands up Oliver’s scalp and almost dropped the lifeless boy at the horror of the feeling he was met with, the exit wound against the back of his head making Simon’s skin crawl as he screamed, clutching him to his chest as if he could protect him from the horrors already done, and by him.  

He was shaking like a leaf, staring down at what he’d done, the damage evident by the remains left over him as he held the body.  He couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs, his clothes feeling too tight, the blood still warm on his skin and drying on fabric.

“PLEASE!” He screamed, throat straining with the effort it took.  He screamed as if it would bring him back, as if it would change anything.  Nobody was there to hear his pleas, though.

There was nobody to hear him scream.

----

His eyes snapped open to stare at the dark ceiling, heart beating so hard he feared it would kill him.  He was trembling, breath catching in his throat as he cried, unable to muffle himself.  He’d failed, he’d done that, oh my god he..he shot him..he-

Simon froze when the small weight against his side shifted, and he broke.  He had Oliver gathered into his arms in an instant, the boy only half awake, disoriented, as Simon looked him over in a frantic manner.  His thumb brushed across Oliver’s forehead, searching for a wound that wasn’t there, searching for some sign of the harm he was sure he’d done.

‘Oliver, I- Ollie, Oliver please.”  He rambled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  He couldn’t stop sobbing, coughing as tears streamed down his face, so overwhelmed with the fact that Oliver was breathing, was moving.  He could almost still feel the blood on his hands, the shivers at the lingering sensation wracking his body.

“-imon?”  The boy mumbled tiredly, blinking.  Simon pressed his fingers against the side of his neck, heart soaring as he felt that pulse, could see his chest rising and falling.  He pulled Oliver into his arms as close as he could get, ankles crossing over each other, trying to get as close to him as he possibly could to protect him.

“Fuck,”  Simon muttered, squeezing him.  He curled himself over the other, like he could be a shield from the world for him. “Fuck, I thought- Oliver, I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry.”

This was all he needed.  He needed to feel the slight raise of scars that wound around his neck, the texture of the tee shirt he always wore to sleep, the chord of the necklace he kept around his neck.  He needed to know he was real, he was safe.

“I’m..I’m right here,”  Oliver reassured, curling up close.  Simon leaned down and pressed his face against Oliver’s shoulder, unable to stop himself from almost wailing in relief.  He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, gasping and gasping for air that simply wouldn’t fill his lungs enough to let him relax-

A hand was pressed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“S,Simon.”  Oliver said shakily, pressing harder, a weight that seemed to hold him down in the moment.  “Breathe, Simon please breathe.”

He dragged in a gulp of air, shuddering and holding on tighter as he nodded.  He tried to breathe slowly, chest burning with the effort, but it started to work. He was relaxing, feeling the full blow of emotions running through him as the adrenaline started to wear off.

“Simon?”  Oliver asked. “What..what's wrong?”

Everything.  Everything was wrong, and it was all Simon’s fault.  He couldn’t control himself and he was a danger, a liability.  He was everything Oliver didn’t need right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Nothing.”  He said hoarsely, still trembling slightly.  He pulled the blanket wrapped around the two closer, bundling them both up closely.  “Just stay right here. Please. I just need you here.”

Oliver nodded against his chest, snuggling closer.  He was warm and breathing and alive, safe and sound right where he was supposed to be. Simon couldn’t think of anything that would make him feel better than simply having Oliver in his arms, breathing and unharmed.  He let his eyes close, breathing in the scent of whatever the hell kind of baked goods he’d made that morning, looking for something to distract himself while he couldn’t walk.

He was never good at pinpointing what kind of smell it was, but it was purely Oliver. Oliver when given access to a kitchen, at least.  

He’d smelled like cologne, when they were with Cedric. He’d always smelled like the strong, bitter scented cologne and vanilla he was forced to wear, or simply carried from Cedric himself after spending a day in the study.

Simon always hated when he came back smelling like that.

He pushed away the thought, tucking Oliver under his chin and staring at the back of the couch as his heart still raced from adrenaline, from fear.  Oliver was here now, out of Cedric’s reach.  He could protect them.

At least that's what he tried to convince himself.

---

taglist

@insanitywishes @18-toe-beans @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @briars7 @albino-whumpee @thatsthewhump

[plucky-belmondo]

r/ichter ramblings

feat. my younger sister (whom i’ll refer to as “Bee” in this)

so story time!

i let my Bee play SS/BU for a while, and when I came into her room once, she was looking through the fighter spirits. i took back my switch to give her a bit of a history insight about the artworks used for fighter spirits*.

* = artwork used for fighter spirits are renders of their old artworks.

it first started with me explaining the k/irby spirits, then s/uper m/ario, and then CV. when i explained r/ichter’s own was from pre-2010, she commented on how different r/ichter looked back then.

for those unaware, here’s his appearance from D/racula X C/hronicles (a remake of RoB)

Bee pointed out that he looks skinnier compared to his SS/BU self, but me, being half-asleep at the time, didn’t get her point, so she told me to go back to his SS/BU render*

* = when viewing fighter spirits, you can press X an stuff to switch the artwork and see the difference

Bee said, and i quote, “he got super buff!! :D”

to that, i replied, with, “...oh shiet, you’re right. dayum--”

i ended up getting flustered about it later on, having the sudden urge to be held by him :’DD

bonus: Bee asked me about my love for r/ichter, but i just told her the following:

“...he’s just a great person, you know? if i had to list my reasons, it’d be a long one. just like how r/osalina’s your favorite, r/ichter’s my favorite. ;w;”

Bee: “...OK xD”

when she mentioned that she played through M/ewtwo’s route and that she fought r/ichter in it, i looked at her as if she drowned a goldfish. then this happened:

Bee: “you...you REALLY don’t like fighting r/ichter, huh?”

me: “yeh...i don’t. it first happened with p/alutena, then c/hrom, then g/runkle s/imon...”

[yarunaningen]

Mᴇssᴀɢᴇ ᴅɪsᴘᴀᴛᴄʜ:  SIᗰOᑎ TᕼE ᗪIGGEᖇ :: 🌀

🐾—“Jｏｉｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ'ｓ ｆｏｅ ｔｏ ｓｍａｓｈ ｆａｔｅ,

                                                       — ａｎｄ ｇｒａｂ ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ'ｓ ｐａｔｈ

                                                                                 ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ ｈａｎｄｓ!”

  The Beastman waited, on the wrong side of eternity, for the Human to answer him.

And what he heard should have set his heart at ease...   

  Simon’s voice, as only he used it, rambled on in those pleasant tenors, about things that Viral strove willingly to comprehend. Gilded ash observed with care, as the Spiral Warrior wove attachments from the air, and buried them in his chest with a fluid motion. He’d heard that woman declare something like that, before, during that incomparable battle. 

    ...keeping those otherwise gone, inside oneself... burying the dead within living memories...

                             Was that ability some kind of blessing availed to humans?

  He glanced in idle curiosity, towards his own clawed grasp.

                                                                                                Empty.

No matter how many times he gripped at the air, nothing and no one came to it. So perhaps it was some gift that Humans alone possessed. He distantly omitted the foolishness of the inquiry, but his attention flickered, eyes widening in surprise as the man before him gently, almost ruefully, declined what he’d suggested.  

 ❝Simon...❞

          He was ...content? With this solitude? With this restless exile?  

The Beastman’s jaw worked tight. The desire to dispute was ready on his tongue - disparity cleaving his thoughts. He’d witnessed a listlessness to Simon’s otherwise brazen nature once before... but this was different. In a simple rotation of words, the human had taken what Viral had extended in one hand, and returned it with the other. The Beastman had just been offered the very place that he’d sought to remind Simon he still had.

     He wasn’t looking for redemption. And what else was there to be had among the others?

The blond knew that his countenance would betray his thoughts, but frustration bid him to surrender to that candid aspect of himself.

  “What’s this, Simon?

       Have you already forgotten?

          I was only given this unending body in order to bear witness to the Spiral King’s legend. Keh. You’re no Lordgenome... but whose story am I supposed to watch, if not yours? Are you really content with leaving it all behind you?”                                                               Himself included? 

   So it would come for him, again. That sinking sensation, at the center of his chest - the inescapable awareness of being left behind; it settled in cold weight, right next to his tireless heartbeat. Would he watch this time too, uselessly, as another irreplaceable person left his sight?

                  Just how many names would he have no need to say, by the end?

                                                                                  Ah, that’s right. Perhaps all of them.

  ❝Don’t be so melodramatic, Ningen. This world is surprisingly small.

     Eventually, as all senseless creatures do - you’ll tire of chasing your own steps.

                                            When you come to your senses, then, I’ll be easy to find.❞

  The Beastman gestured towards the heavens above, with a clawed index finger. Cradled in sunlight, the Chouginga was orbiting in a sea of stars. Even if his empty-headed partner chose to wander aimlessly - at the very least, he could keep himself anchored to the fool from there. It was worth reflecting upon, that a relic from his ambitious once-king would exist as a bridge to the one who had inherited that unenviable destiny. Together, they would preserve the tenuous progression of the universe - Simon would push from the earth, and he would pull from above. Cyclical. Rhythmic. Steadfast.

   ❝Oi, Simon. Don’t forget what it was like to be up there - among the stars.

                                                 Someday, let’s shake them up again. You and I.❞

                         —ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ,                                         ‘ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹ'noʎ ǝsnɐɔǝb ǝɹǝɥ ɯ'I

                                                       ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ɴᴏᴡ!”                                                                 “!ʍon ɯǝןboɹd ɐ ʇoƃ ǝʌ'noʎ

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

look at him?? he’s so excited for his boi????

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

My hot take:

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

Keith: BUT MOOOOOM

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

Hot take: lance and his 2 boyfriends Keith and Ryan why he gotta choose y'all ??

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

If the garrison fixed Matt's eyes why did Adam wear glasses

Headcanon: Adam is a hipster

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

ALRIGHT

Officially moving over to purelars now!! I’ll reblog this a few times in the next couple of days so that it pops up more on yall’s dash’s.

>>> purelars.tumblr.com

Go follow me over there and you can unfollow here as well~ although i’m not deleting because I still have junk on here i wanna keep

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

Paladins Adorable Moments Appreciation post specifically from “The Feud!” episode

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

IDK WHY I'M LAUGHING ASFKJDHKJWUKB

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

Why was Bob confused about keith choosing lance? He’s like an all knowing being so he’s why is he questioning it.

[imonthissitebecauseofvoltron]

I'm trying to decide if lance would wear a red suit or a blue suit, same for Keith. Like would they wear each other's colors or their own?