QSMP RECAP : DAY 183 (9/21)
FIT found player data on pol, tubbo, and tina
FIT cleaned an "outpost," and found information about other outposts
TUBBO got friendzoned by fred
ETOILES ran a dungeon that the feds asked him to run
ETOILES found a book in the dungeon confirming that people (likely the federation let's be real) are watching him run the dungeons and making reports
ETOILES figured out phil is missing and told fit & tubbo, as well as asked cucurucho about it (he didn't get any answers)
CELLBIT figured out phil is missing (i think?)
CELLBIT and BAGI fought over zeno (the cat cellbit found in an abandoned far-off house a few days after the eggs disappeared)
BAGHERA told fit all about her diary and her federation excursion
FIT told baghera about his missing memories and how he's trying to remember a faceless white figure
CELLBIT and BAGI went over a ton of old lore, catching each other up on various things
FOREVER decided today is the day to fix bbh and is running around telling people about it/offering for them to help
PIERRE has been having nightmares about the federation operating on his(?) brain, and he showed antoine and baghera them
BAGHERA is worried about etoiles getting corrupted by the code and wants to talk to him about it (bbh, pierre, and antoine agreed to help)
ETOILES is worried about baghera being sad and wants to talk to her about it
FOREVER is warning us that some big stuff is gonna happen soon
ANTOINE said the admins approved his lore plan (which surprised him cuz a lot of it was big stuff) so that'll be going into effect soon
FOREVER realized phil is missing (i mean he kinda already knew but you know)
BAGI went to the furry club
ROIER got mad cellbit logged off before he got on /lh
ROIER died to bbh’s prank (bbh and baghera tried to get him to tame it)
BBH realized roier probably isn’t doing very well
BBH and ROIER talked about the missing eggs
FOREVER (and others) surprised bbh with a room full of nice messages and fanarts (which cheered him up a lot)
FOREVER and BAGI explored the maze a bit more (they found some pink blocks?? and forever found a bunch of admin stuff i think—didn't watch this part)
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you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹
as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.
he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.
almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.
you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.
it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.
— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —
the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.
you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.
the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.
a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.
you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.
bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.
"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"
things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.
"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.
you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.
the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.
"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"
but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.
if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.
regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.
"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."
all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.
he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.
curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.
they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.
"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"
bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.
you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.
beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.
you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.
your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.
suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.
bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.
"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.
it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.
and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.
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thinks about "you would kill me?" "i would kill for you. never you," and cellbit's love language being destruction.
thinks about how cellbit will go to any length of self destruction for those he loves. thinks about him not sleeping for months, drinking coffee obsessively, until he's eventually too tired even to boil it and thus begins resorting to eating coffee beans, so he could keep himself sane. thinks about cellbit running from a bear with a chainsaw, and being forced to talk to him as a subordinate for months afterwards. thinks about him pushing people away so theyd let him destroy himself for the federation, unsure if the information he gathered would even be worth it. thinks about the slow death of the self, how much time one can spend running before they collapse from exhaustion, the love in demanding your family eat your corpse.
and then... thinks about outward destruction. thinks about broken trust in the form of an unusable xp machine. thinks about broken hearts in the form of custody battles. corpses with ciphers scribbled in blood left for long lost sisters who don't get it, not yet. badboyhalo describes cellbit pulling a knife on someone when he jokingly asks him to as less personal, and more like a dog being told to play fetch. thinks about him plunging into ravines and caves to kill bad's enemies as bad followed behind, being the first of them to die for bad's victory. thinks about "keep your hands clean." cats bring their owners dead birds out of concern for them being fed, cellbit brings enigmas and bodies because it's all the damage he can do. in a life shaped by violence, how else do you show loyalty than through a willingness to hunt for those who arent strong enough, to kill unthinkingly when they ask? it terrifies his family, but it's all he has left to give.
there are so many parallels between felps' kidnapping arc and the current one. the difference is in how many people are also at their breaking point and couldn't afford to see their rock crumbling. cellbit's mind was the bright light for every damn person on the server who had questions, and at this point, that number is all of them. and no matter where he looks, how much he wants to save them, there are no answers. there is no satisfying conclusion. if only he could go home at night and sleep soundly without thinking about the evidence of his failure to protect anyone resting beneath his feet. there are only more dead ends, more wheels, more humiliation, more degradation of his sanity as he's unable to sleep. his family has been picked off and the remainder have picked apart his corpse to scraps of marrow and flesh and are still starving, too terrified to hunt for themselves. what a blessing that cellbit's hands are already bloodied, and he's angry enough to tear apart the wardens for them to feast.
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