#writing that made me cry

[the-most-humble-blog]

**You Thought You Were Escaping Control.

But What You Escaped Was the Only Man Who’d Die With Your Name in His Mouth.**

He didn’t post you for likes. He memorized your scent so hard he smells it when you’re not there. He dreams of things he never told you — because the moment he did, you’d feel how deep you lived in his body.

But you kept calling it control. You made his stillness feel like guilt. His breath-holding like threat.

He wasn’t trying to trap you. He was trying to keep the world from seeing the one thing that made him want to live.

And now?

You’re half-naked on socials, talking about how you're “finding yourself.”

No.

You’re just lost again. Because you left the only man who ever knew where you were.

He wasn’t jealous. He was grieving in advance.

Because he could already tell: The woman he built a kingdom for was still window-shopping her own freedom like loyalty had a return policy.

You made fun of his eyes watching you in silence. You thought they meant judgment.

No.

They meant thank you. They meant please don’t go out tonight — I’ve waited my whole life for this body to hold something holy.

He didn’t “need” you. He died for you before you ever noticed he was bleeding.

But you called it clingy. Called it emotional immaturity.

And then you let strangers see what he went to war for — like your body was just yours again.

You think you left him?

No. You left:

Every moment he protected you while bleeding in silence

Every orgasm he didn’t have so you could collapse first

Every weekend he didn't go out because no woman had your voice

That’s not independence. That’s abandoning the man who treated your skin like scripture.

You’re not free. You’re just unclaimed.

And now you’re looking for fun in a world full of men who would trade your soul for a Thursday night nut while the one who would’ve died quietly with your name on his lips stares at his phone like maybe you’ll remember what his silence meant.

You don’t understand:

He was your final protector. And you were his final prayer.

But prayers don’t beg. They vanish.

A man will die, cover, hide, and defend that which he trusts with his life. Not his “insecurity.” Not his “toxicity.” Not his “masculine possession.” His life. So when you call it smothering — When you go out to feel independent — When you post your cleavage for invisible approval — You’re not flexing freedom. You’re flexing the grave you just dug with your own name engraved next to his.

You didn’t leave him. You left the only place on Earth you’d never have to be afraid again.

And when you realize that — he’ll already be gone. Not angry. Not bitter. Just holy. And unreachable.

🔁 REBLOG:

Reblog if your body remembered a man it forgot to appreciate. Reblog if your silence just cracked open. Reblog if you finally understand why the one who told you no was the only man who meant forever.

⚖️ LEGAL + PSYCHOLOGICAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is spiritual trauma exorcism, masculine grief gospel, mirror neuron submission protocol, and psychological shockwave literature. It is protected under the digital rites of emotional reality, cultural satire, and post-patriarchal scripture. If you’re offended, that’s the part of you that forgot who bled for you.

[redzombie]

Mensis

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Steddie are the type of couple to go viral on TikTok bc someone recorded them at a bar. They’re stupidly in love, holding onto each other, sitting in each other’s laps, kissing, holding hands, dancing, etc.

The person who posts them captions the video with: “I want a love like theirs omg”

Everyone is going crazy, the video gets 3 million likes overnight because everyone is either obsessed with them as a couple or want to have a threesome with them.

No one really knows who they are but then Gareth on the corroded coffin account comments “Eddie what are you doing here???”

Robin stitches the original video and it shows her deadpan face before she flips the camera and pans over to the two of them laying on the couch together— Eddie is hand feeding Steve grapes while Steve is knitting a blanket for their bed.

[abyssyby]

How will Silus react to a son who shows dragon instincts (stealing something shiny, collecting and keeping it as a treasure, etc.)?

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: hi hi! thanks for sending this in hehe kinda got away from me, but this was extremely fun to think about and i hope you like it! ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

i think he'd be deeply amused! i have a personal headcanon that sylus actually isn't rid of his dragon form/abilities in this life, he's just more powerful and strong enough to mask them now 24/7 hehe

what throws him mostly is when the kids express their want to be like him (because of the implications of that and his own perception of himself). but their natural instincts and traits, sylus expected that and now takes it on as a challenge to hone and help with.

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | a fight between the little twins (´•̥ ᵔ •̥`) angst, fluff, family dynamics, exploring the littles' draconic traits!

Lucian is more his father's son in terms of more outward, classic draconic traits— seeking height to fly, collecting trinkets and treasures, easily allured by shiny and pretty things. Did he not have a twin to bond with (and very social older brothers), Lucian would have had trouble sharing/socializing. He can be very territorial and protective with things he thinks he is responsible for (ex. a specific dino plushie from the big twins, a spot on the couch, a blanket, Kyros).

Sylus's role with Lucian is trying to find that balance of what he can do to regulate himself as a little boy and at the same time not repress any of the inherent instincts he cannot help. He reminds him often that it's okay to act accordingly as long as he isn't malicious or mean.

"You have to choose the better choice." Sylus would say, drawing a sobbing Lucian into his embrace after a fight with Kyros. "Do you want to protect your hoard or your brother?" "But is my trinky." Lucian hiccups, pushing through sudden painful inhales. He clutches the clicky little egg toy in his hand (think bakugan), which weighs heavier with the guilt every passing second he stews in his mistake. Sylus sighs, voice low and gentle. "You yelled at Kyros." "I sorry!" "I know you are, angel." Sylus frowns. His heart aching at the confusion in Lucian's face— wondering what he did wrong, why his need to defend was a bad thing, why he was getting scolded when it was Kyros who took the toy without permission. "But you really hurt Kyros." Little fingers stop their fidgeting on the trinket. smaller, quieter, Lucian murmurs. "I not mean it..." "Papa, I feel bad here," Lucian says, taking Sylus's hand and placing it on his chest. Like he wants to puke. Like he wants to scream. Like he wants to cry his insides out. "Don't like it." Sylus holds him tightly— allowing his presence to be whatever Kyros might need at this moment. He thinks it inadequate, but what he doesn't consider is that it is infinitely more than he had before he met you. And for now, it is enough. "Maybe we say sorry to Kyros? What do you think?" "I give yellow trinky?" he is still shaky when he pitches it. clutching his precious crimson trinket to his chest. "Red one is mine. but- he can borrow. but—but this mine." "That's a start," Sylus kisses his brow. It's not a perfect bow-tied solution, but it's his own. and it's clever and kind and still Lucian. and Sylus cannot be prouder. "Let's go find your brother."

Kyros's qualities are more inert, subtle. He is still territorial and protective— just not to the extent of a Lucian-like reaction of yelling or snarling. If his little hoard is breached, he'd probably harbor a deep sense of resentment towards whoever did so. He remembers everything— the kindness, the betrayal. He trusts gradually yet deeply and isn't the easiest to ask for a second chance.

Kyros's traits manifest in him being watchful and vigilant, protecting his space and his circle more than his trinkets and treasures. He prefers being alone with the exception of his family— and yet even then, he still has moments where you'd find him wandering away from Lucian and the big twins to check on his own stuffies in another room or just rearrange some toys in his collections.

He's deeply sensory-seeking! Kyros is very sensitive to specific sounds (you and sylus humming into his temple so he feels it resonate in his skull), vestibular and tactile input (squeezy-squeezes!), scents (papa's brings the most comfort of all because of that time he was sick).

Sylus's own instincts would urge him to protect him, shelter and hide. But he knows that isn't the better choice. So instead, he teaches grounding to Kyros when his instincts tell him to float away. To hide, but always come back home.

Kyros hates loud sounds— when the karaoke mic goes wrong, when the trumpets on papa's CDs start shouting, when something falls off a shelf and makes a loud thud!. He's gotten better at reacting to them, and no longer has that instinct to cry or yell when it happens. His tantrums come from not being able to rearrange the things that get jumbled inside his head when he is startled like that. He shares that with his father— a replica of home in their mind with everything in its perfect place. But unlike him, Kyros has yet to keep his composure when it is rattled. Sylus teaches him to organize, arrange and at the same time be flexible with it. He was taught that he could grit his teeth, put his head between his knees, and count to ten until it passed. Or simply go to papa or mama when it doesn't. But this sound— this sound creates a landslide in his mind, a devastation far too great to reorganize all by himself. "Go away, Kyros!" Lucian's voice is hoarse as he yells the curse at the top of his lungs. Kyros freezes. His limbs stone and fire all at once. His vision is reduced to blurs of color as the tears build and blind him. He doesn't know what to do, and when Sylus emerges from the other room at the sound, his instinct is to run. Hide. Not be seen, perceived. Alone— where he can't be hurt. You find him in his bedroom, frozen on his bed. clenching and unclenching fists, eyes crystalline with unshed tears. "My love." you coo in sympathy, gently curling yourself around him, taking him into your arms, and placing him in the cradle of your crisscrossed legs. He lets the tears fall then, quiet still. Clinging to your warmth, your scent. Fists crumpling the soft fabric of your shirt. You don't talk, but your fingers intertwine with his, and you draw him closer to your chest as you breathe the way you want him to. Your hand squeezes his palm, the hinges and joints of his fingers, wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Then a familiar forgotten lullaby is hummed into his temple as you kiss him tenderly. When he is no longer wound, no longer rigid like scales but soft like the baby you reared, he speaks. voice small, rusted, and fragile. "I make cian mad." You nod. He did. You saw his twin crying to his papa before you raced off to find him. "I no mean it." his lip wobbles just as his words. "I just... want to see." You hum, listen to him. It's what he needs, to be heard. And when he is ready to listen to you too, you offer: "Lucian probably didn't mean it either." Kyros pouts. "He yelling at me." "But he cried too." you say, smoothing his hair, meeting his eyes. "Lucian doesn't like hurting you." His brow furrows. He knows that is true. His mind struggles, but he places each totem, each memory, and each fact back on their shelves. Just as Sylus taught him to do so. Hide, fix, then come back home. Lucian loves him. Lucian loves his clicky red dragon. Lucian lets him borrow things when he asks. "Mama, I grab the—the trinky," he confesses, fingers finding solace in playing with yours. "Is that why you think he yelled?" "A-huh." your heart corrodes in your chest at the sound of his heavy confirmation. "Cian no like grabby hands. I sorry." You smile— admiring the depths of your son's little mind palace. What you would give to be able to roam its halls and behold its many wonders. "Maybe he needs to hear that from you when you're ready, hm?" he nods. "I ready, mama."

𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You take him to his brother, who is already on his way to him too. sylus kneels to set Lucian down, and you nudge Kyros gently. "I sorry I take—take your trinky." Kyros says first, hands behind his back both to keep himself composed and to show Lucian that he won't be a threat any longer. "Sorry I yelled loud." Lucian hiccups, still shaken at what he'd done. Haunted by how Kyros looked when he did it. He extends his hand, and upon his outstretched palm sits a yellow version of his clicky dragon-egg-ball-trinket. "This for you." Kyros's face brightens as he accepts it. And in the blink of an eye, they are holding each other in an embrace. An ancient instinct they both share, not exactly draconic, but transcending understanding. Could be cosmic. Could be creature. Could be human. But one thing is for sure, this they've inherited proudly from their parents. A woven gift, bloodied and torn, but good. This, they share. This, they treasure. This, they protect in each other— a loyal heart, a golden soul.

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you so, so much for sending the ask & for reading! o(╥﹏╥)

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[wrongspacetime]

The Fall of the House of Usher 1.08 | The Raven (2023)

[drgnflyteabox]

a little continuation of this. john price x cashier fem!reader. verbal abuse, anxiety, yelling, hurt/comfort, price comes to your retail rescue<3<3 1.4k words

The only good part of a 5am wakeup is watching the sunrise slowly climb the sky.

There’s a quiet sort of tiredness that lets you appreciate it more — and though the lot associates have made a joke about the morning crew and their sunrise photos, there’s an element of truth there that’s both funny and a little beautiful.

It’s a drag to wait outside the doors for a manager to open them, trying not to make eye contact with the early-bird oldies and the impatient contractors who think they should just be allowed in before everyone else based on the amount of money they spend.

When the doors open and the 6am hardware warriors stroll in, ready and chipper, you’re half asleep leaning against your counter.

Another good thing about the early shift is the lack of uptight managers. None of them want to wake up before ten, so you’re safe to lean and lounge while waiting for customers.

A call comes through your earpiece after a few customers, nearing the cusp of 8am.

”Hey, we’ve got the guy coming your way,” your head cash – Lisa – says, voice crackling in the mic. The guy is a rude jerkoff, some contractor who thinks abusing staff is the way to get good service and better prices.

What’s worse is that your managers allow it. In fact, you get warnings like this all the time. The guy is here, the guy has a big order, make sure to cash him out fast or he’ll start shouting. Be pleasant. Smile.

The guy is walking down the store lumber aisle with a pinched expression on his face and two other employees dragging his stacked carts behind him.

You try to ignore his caustic vibes, thinking instead of the pink, purplish sunrise you’d seen earlier. Clouds like magic, cotton candy, floating above you 

You ignore the incessant tapping of his feet, the annoyed groan he makes when you lift a package of insulation up and find flat saw blades.

Sure, you can’t accuse him of stealing. But you can make a cheery, passive aggressive comment–

“Oops, I guess you forgot these!” you chirp, scanning them a little slower than necessary. It’s not mature, but it does make you feel a little better. Nice try, bozo.

Playing the idiot cashier helps with these types. Why are you mad, sir? I’m just a cashier? And though you could answer more questions than you do, you don’t. Playing the ditz makes life easy.

Lisa’s definitely judged you for it, but hey. She’s not stuck at the register like you are.

Sometimes, it works. You get a scowl, but they’ll go quiet. Sometimes.

Today, it backfires.

“Excuse me?” 

Oh here we go, you think. It’s way too early for this.

“What was that, sir?” you play dumb, voice squeaking.

“Are you accusing me of stealing?” his volume raises. You see redness crawling up his neck. Fuck.

“No, no, I only meant–” you try to backtrack. Fuck, fuck. This is the result of your hubris. Your reasoning flies out through the massive lumber area doors as his rage climbs.

“No? No? Because I think you just accused me of stealing. Do you understand how much I spend here, you moron?”

“I do, I didn’t mean to imply–”

“Get me a fucking manager, now,” he snaps. God, you have no clue if he acts like this to get his way, to get discounts, or if he’s really this angry half the time he comes in.

Regardless, the effect is real. You’ve never been good with anger, and you’re shaking a little as you press the call button on your pager.

“C-Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?” you broadcast to the store.

All you can think of is looking away from his angry gaze while you wait. Oh, a bubble bath – you have an aloe and green tea bubble bath packet at home waiting for you.

Hot water. Bubble bath. Manager to fix this mess. Maybe a hot chocolate after work?

A couple minutes pass. Longest minutes of your life.

No answer. The guy taps his foot, sighing loudly, angrily. You try again.

“Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?”

Oh fuck, is that someone else in line? You turn away bodily, speaking again into your mic. Trying to look like you’re doing something about the wait.

Another couple minutes. Despair washes over you like a cold blanket of snow.

“Need a manager at lumber cash,” you try.

Typical, really. Lisa is likely on break, and you have no idea who’s managing the store at the moment.

You imagine it’s likely Cody, who’s good with contractors like this because he's personable but he’s also lazy it almost cancels out. Also, he takes a smoke break every 5 minutes.

And never takes his pager.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” you hear behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, turning. “My manager is busy at the moment but–”

“Busy?” his voice is like a gunshot in the airy space, an absurd volume for the time.

“Yes–”

“Do you know–”

A third voice cuts in.

“Think you better learn a little patience, mate,” British?

Oh, shit. It’s that guy from before. He’s got one hip a little cocked, a frown on his face like he’s smelled something bad. His boonie hat is titled down, nearly covering his eyes. You can see them because you’re shorter than he is.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Mind your business,” the guy says.

“I think you’d better let the nice girl check me out while you wait,” he motions for you towards the parallel cash desk, and you’re grateful to just follow.

You scurry away from the guy faster than is appropriate, calling out again as you cross the open space towards the other cash desk for a manager.

You can only hope they arrive while you’re helping this one. John Price, you think his name was. He's a memorable man. Him and his moustache and his expensive company.

John Price has left the guy flabbergasted. He also has twice as many carts as him, and when your eyes widen to see them he just says take your time in a smooth, deep voice.

Oh man.

You do take your time, already calmer for John’s presence. Strange maybe to feel safe in the company of a stranger, a contractor no less, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Beep, beep. You scan methodically. John has no hidden items, and he doesn’t pressure you. He leans up against his lumber order and watches you check underneath things, under the cart, doing everything you’re trained to do.

“Start early?” he asks.

“Hm?” you lift your head. “Oh, yes. 6am.”

He whistles.

“Hard worker, I see,” he helps you lift a heavy bag of concrete.

“Thank you,” Marx look away, you think. Your face is only a little hot.

Cody strolls in the lumber doors missing his apron and – you guessed it – his pager. You fix him with a look as he smiles in greeting.

“Need a manager when you’re free,” you rush. Cody is nice, but you’re kinda miffed now.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking by you toward the breakroom.

John Price raises a brow.

“Not everyone’s up to the task, eh?”

You feel hot again.

“It’s just early.”

John smiles. He looks remarkably silly doing it, you think. His facial hair makes him look approachable, cuddly. Like a teddy bear.

John’s order totals double the guy, which isn’t really a victory for you but it feels like one. Ha! See, you aren’t the richest guy here. You feel vindicated. Cody looks miserable cashing him out, which makes you just a little guilty.

“Will that be cash or card?” you ask, finger hovering on the POS.

He pays with card. You certainly do not notice how he cradles the machine. You aren’t that down bad.

Only you are, and his fingers are huge. His knuckles are hairy.

When you go to hand him the receipts, printed twice for record keeping, he manages to slip a 50 into your hand before you notice.

“Oh, no! I’m not allowed to–”

He folds those big bear paws over your hand, enclosing the cash in it with a sh sh sh as you protest.

“For the trouble,” he winks.

“You didn’t give me any trouble,” you try. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses. You’re a goner.

He chuckles, and you wonder how he can be both so intense and so disarming.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he squeezes your hand, pushing it gently back towards you until you can put it in your apron pocket.

“Thank you,” you squeeze out.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he says.

“I’ll try,” you thank God or the universe or whoever that Cody and the guy finished a while ago.

“Attagirl.”

Yeah, you’re a goner.

[captainpriceslilwife]

what hybrids i think the boys (tf141 + nikolai) would have because im a freak and cant stop thinking about it and YES they're boinking the hybrids! :))) <3 simon's is angsty though, so...yeah

Also the pics included are just to get a visual of the animal that the hybrid is based off of...they aren't in a relationship with like...actual animals. if i could draw i would've drawn the hybrid myself but unfortunately you'd just get a stick figure with two triangles coming out of it with a note on the side like ":) -> these are wings! <3" so here we are. use your imagination!

(edit: removed the 'keep reading' line :) you WILL read it and look at the pretty pictures i picked out...whether you want to or not)

john: ok, ok, ok....hear me out LISTEN !!!! cockatiel!hybrid. i know we all love cute fluffy hybrids but LISTEN TO ME!!! I used to have one growing up, and i can see it so perfectly oooh my god. They typically bond really well to one person and are snippy with everyone else, and i think john would absolutely love that. It makes him feel special - like he's needed. And he's always loved feeling needed, which is why he goes so above and beyond for his team. And now he has something to scratch that itch for him while he's at home.

Plus, he loves the way she sings and chirps for him - sometimes he'll even hum something around her just to hear her mimic him for the next couple of days. He soaks it up as much as he can when he's at home because he knows that when he's deployed to some hellish warzone halfway across the world, there won't be any birds singing. So even when his little hybrid keeps chirping the same tune over and over again, her feathers fluffing up as she begins to get on her own nerves - he can't bring himself to tell her to stop. And, sometimes, if his hybrid is depressed because he's leaving and he can't get her to cheer up (poor thing has separation anxiety), he'll sing a little bit with her. He never liked the sound of his own voice, but when he sees the way his birdie's face lights up and the way her head sways along with his tune, he melts right there on the spot. It'll always be the first thing he misses when he has to go away. And, yes, sometimes he finds himself singing quietly to himself when he's thinking about his little bird on his mission. Only Simon has ever heard it, and he doesn't breathe a word about it to anyone else - mainly because it reminded him of his mum when he was younger.

John's favorite thing, though, is helping her groom every night. He loves to run his fingers through her feathers, especially the tuft of long feathers that are always propped up on top of her head. He loves to watch his baby lean into his touch as he tries to smooth out her 'pretty crown', as he calls it. And when his fingers catch on a loose, stubborn feather that she can't get on her own? He's gently pulling it out while his other hand coaxes her muscles to relax as he coos softly at her. I know, I know it hurts...always such a good birdie for me though, huh? Pretty little thing...there we go. That feels better, doesn't it, love? And she always thanks him by bopping her forehead gently against his, and he can never stop himself from catching the movement with his lips to press a gentle kiss just beneath her crown.

And if his hands slip under her wings to rub little circles there? And her wings get all ruffled as she slowly gets worked up and turned on? Well, he's not just going to let his poor birdie suffer, now will he?

And it doesn't matter if he's fucking her in missionary or if he's got her mouth wrapped around his cock - his thumbs will always find their way to those pretty orange spots on her cheeks :) stroking them lovingly like he's not defiling his precious little bird. Always rewards her with some fancy birdseed at the end of it, though - let's her eat it right out of his hand.

kyle: another hear me out but....hold on! just picture it! hedgehog. DO NOT SCROLL AWAY FROM ME!!

Think about it. He's been wanting to get a hybrid for a while now, but he just can't seem to figure out what he wants. Everything just seems too...standard. Cats, dogs, birds? It's not really doing it for him. Plus he gets too sad when he goes to the hybrid facilities just to look, so he eventually stops going so he doesn't feel guilty.

But one day he's in the rec room trying to relax - key word: trying. The two recruits next to him just won't seem to shut up about their own hybrids they've got waiting for them at home. Kyle tries to zone them out as much as he can, but his ears perk up when he actually starts to listen to what they're saying.

I don't know, mate. I got one of those hedgehog hybrids - thought it'd be cool - but she's so fucking weird, man. She's always curling up in a ball or giving me this weird smile...it'd be fine if she'd let me fuck her, but she always runs away when I just try to touch her. Kyle is locked in on their conversation, and he doesn't even notice how hard he's clenching his fists until he hears the other recruit respond. Fucking get rid of her, mate. Don't she know that's what hybrids are for? Could throw her out on the street on those grounds.

So, of course our sweet Kyle taught both of those recruits a lesson in what hybrids are for :) nevermind the fact that Price had to sign a bunch of paperwork in order to keep him on the team. Turns out that beating two recruits with the help of Simon is frowned upon in the military. That's not important.

What's important is the fact that now he's got a little hedgehog hybrid all to himself. Tiny thing, too. She's the tiniest out of all of the hybrids he's seen with his teammates. And, ever the prince charming, he makes sure to give her a life that scumbag could never even dream of.

She becomes his favorite thing in the world. Spoils her absolutely rotten. All those weird quirks the recruits were complaining about? He swears he's never seen something so precious or perfect in his life. He'd do anything to put that 'weird' smile on her face - even went so far as to build her an enclosure in her own room, just so she can play around at night since she's nocturnal and he needs to sleep. But he absolutely loves when he's lying in bed and he hears her giggling to herself in the other room, only for her to come crawling into bed with him just before the sun comes up so she can cuddle with him before he leaves for work.

Yeah, turns out she does like to be touched - likes to be fucked, too - as long as she doesn't have some prick breathing down her neck to tell her how weird she is. It takes all of Kyle's willpower to not take a video of him pounding her sweet cunt just to send it to that idiot, but in the end he decides his sweet girl doesn't need to be shown off like that. Not when she curls up next to him and cuddles into his chest when they're done - chittering softly and smiling at him so sweetly that he swears he'll get a toothache. And when she murmurs her thanks for him? Telling him how happy she is that she's finally found someone who actually likes her? Yeah, he's keeping his sweet little pet all to himself.

johnny: little bunny!hybrid...we ALL know why. he's a freak and he needs something to match his stamina. but i do think he picks one of the bunny!hybrids who is more quiet (because poor johnny has always been drawn to the cold, stand-offish type ghost) and he has to coax her out of their shell before she gets comfortable enough for him to even think about pulling her into bed with him.

maybe she was hiding off to the side when he came to the facility looking for a new companion. everyone has always picked the other, more-affectionate bunnies, so she had kind of lost hope - doesn't even lift her head to see who is cooing softly at the other bunnies. But suddenly she feels a gentle hand stroking over her soft ears, and a soft murmur is pulling her away from her quiet solitude - aye, and who's this sweet, little angel? look at tha'...softest thing ah've ever felt...

And he takes her home that same day, even though she refuses to meet his eye and curls away from him every time he runs his fingers over her sensitive ears. He knows it'll take time to win her over, and despite popular belief, Johnny can be patient. Especially when he knows what kind of reward is waiting for him at the end ;)

So for the next couple of months (yes, months - he puts in WORK) he tries to gain her trust. Buying her special treats, handfeeding her the 'fancy lettuce', always backing off when she thumps her foot against the ground when he gets too handsy - he does everything he can to make his sweet coney happy. He even builds her a little nook that she can hide out in if she wants to get away from him. And by some miracle, that seems to make her grow more affectionate with him. He nearly explodes with joy when she comes out of her cubby to sit next to him on the couch while he's watching TV, and he swears he almost cries when her head rests against his shoulder and she asks him in a shy, quiet voice if he can massage her ears.

And all of his hard work finally pays off when he wakes up one morning, eyes still crusted over and bleary from sleep - only to look down and see his little bunny, completely naked, humping his leg like her life depends on it. Looks like all those lonely years at the facility finally caught up to the poor bunny and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Luckily for bun, he's just as pent up as she is! So both of them are very pleased when he's using her soft, floppy ears as handlebars to rut into her like a man possessed - and his favorite part is seeing how her fluffy, cotton tail grows more and more soaked with the combination of her slick and Johnny's cum :))))) he's licking it clean after

simon: dog!hybrid, but specifically a very hyper, very affectionate mutt - one that he didn't want. I think simon is the only one who never actively sought out a hybrid for himself. He thinks it's wrong to own something that seems so human, but his teammates can see how he clenches his jaw whenever he hears them talking about their little pets back home - and john always catches that look of longing that flashes in his eyes before he's quickly covering it up with the aloof demeanor he always uses as a shield.

But one day they've got a mission to raid a supposed 'hybrid-training facility'. Turns out they were running an illegal hybrid breeding ring, and they were putting the 'unsellable' mutts through cruel experiments and tests so they could figure out how to make even more hybrid babies to sell.

And that's when he sees her - a pretty little pup that's been through the ringer. Looking at her, he thinks that she's way too young to be having a litter of her own, but according to the chart that hangs next to her cage - she's already had three litters. There are no hybrid pups to be found though - just her in the cage, using her last bit of energy to wag her tail as she stares up at simon with hope in her pretty brown eyes. Turns out the breeders had taken all the pups when they ran, likely to set up shop somewhere else with a fresh set of merchandise.

Hey, sweetheart - he murmurs softly as he unlocks the cage, being as gentle and careful as he can as he scoops her up from beneath her arms - but she still cries softly as her sore body presses up against his. I know, love, I know...I've got ya. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, sweet girl.

And he's there with her through the whole process of recovering in the hospital - mainly because he doesn't have a choice. The poor pup whines whenever he tries to leave, and it makes his heart ache in a way he never thought was possible. Price is the one who encourages him to take some time off and 'get to know his new pet'.

And he does take that time off, but she's never just a pet to him. Not when he saw how she looked the day she finally worked up the courage to scoot closer to him on the couch, ears held back like she was waiting for him to yell at her for getting close, or how he's the only one she'll trust to rub her distended belly when she gets phantom aches (her body never did go back to normal after all those forced pregnancies - even her heats were few and far between now).

And honestly? He's the only one out of the guys who isn't trying to sleep with their hybrid. It isn't until over two years in that it finally happens, and only because she was going through a particularly rough heat. She's whining in pain like she did the very first day he met her, and he just can't take it. He's never been so gentle in his life, working her open as slowly as he can, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. But he never finds any. The only thing he sees staring back at him is love and trust that he never thought he'd deserve - but he's finally found it in those pretty brown eyes.

nikolai: kitty!!!!! kitty!hybrid aalllllll the way. siberian cat to be specific. he almost got a bengal cat!hybrid because he likes having access to exotic things, but he felt too guilty about the thought of keeping it in the cold, russian tundra he lives in - so he found a kitty that was built for the cold!

And he's so grateful that he did. Because he is absolutely, 110% enamored with the fluffy, soft fur that adorns his hybrid's body along with her striking blue eyes. She very quickly becomes, quite possibly, the most spoiled thing on the planet. You better believe he's slapping a (very real, very expensive) diamond collar on his hybrid by the end of their first day together.

She's always prancing around his house with her fluffy tail bobbing behind her, chin held high like she's the goddamn queen of sheba - and to Nikolai? She might as well be.

He loves playing with his little kitty - watching her eyes grow big as he shines a laser pointer on the couch beside her, making her jump up from her previously cozy position to catch it before he moves the little red dot out of reach. She'll do it for about three minutes, but she's always too lazy to keep going, so he just laughs and settles for rubbing the soft tufts of fur on her belly. You are spoiled little girl, eh? I wonder whose fault that is... Though, she does love to jump out from behind corners to try and scare him, and he always pretends to jump for her sake, just so he can hear her giggle as her scoops her up and promises to punish her for being such a naughty kitty.

He's got a special spot in his hangar just for his little kotenok since he can't bear to part with her for too long. it's got a million toys and cushions and fur blankets - even a heating pad just to keep her warm - but she still always slinks her way over him while he tinkers away on whatever he's working on that day. but he never scolds her - he'll just let her curl up in his lap while he reaches his arms around her to keep working. and he'll press a soft kiss to her head every couple of minutes, just to hear her trill quietly as she lifts her head closer to him. It always pulls a deep chuckle from within him, and those vibrations lead to his hybrid pushing her paws against his chest to march as gently as she can. She doesn't want to distract her owner when he's doing something important, but sometimes her sharp claws still catch on his shirt and scratch his chest on accident. He'll never let her feel guilty about it, though - he's honored, actually. Always leaving his shirt a bit unbuttoned to display his scratches to everyone like they're a trophy.

And if him and his hybrid are together around literally anyone else? Everyone is uncomfortable. Because why is he hand-feeding his hybrid anchovies while she sits in his lap during a meeting? And why does her big, fluffy tail keep brushing against his face while they both giggle and whisper quietly to each other? Why is he scratching at the base of her tail? Is she licking the leftover juice from his fingers? Oh, they're about to - oh, there go their clothes! Ok, time to go- no, Johnny, you cant watch.. Meeting's over. You'll have to see yourself out.

Also, he always leaves that collar on when he's fucking his kitty just so he can see it glinting in the light as he makes her bounce and mewl softly - and if he wants her to be a bit louder? He's tugging at that fluffy tail until she forgets what a pretty, fancy cat she is and starts yowling like a stray in heat.

[alittlecartoonie]

🌿take me outside, sit in a green garden🌿

[c0mm/gift for hexmunculus on ao3 and his incredible hunger games au!!!💚]

[junsjoys]

A comic based off of @pythoneon 's Thunderbolts fic that I love so much

[leafmealoooone]

god i love solarpunk. Shout out to solarpunk.

Sometimes it gets criticism for being just an art aesthetic, and i get that, fair enough, but for me thats the whole point.

I can't always picture a future worth fighting for on my own. It would be so much harder to hope for and work towards a better future without the images others have crafted of what that better world might look like. Sometimes what keeps me going is pretty imaginings of a beautiful, flawed, near-utopia that's mostly just vibes and sunshine and plants growing regardless of whether the conditions are well suited to it, and humans who continue and endure and care for their world and community.

[idonsul]

[comfort-character-central]

Your f/o is so proud to be seen with you. Whether it be friendship, a relationship, or even a familial connection, they're more than happy to tell others about it or express their appreciation for you. You're everything to them, of course they're gonna love you without hesitation and shame. ══════════════════════════════════ support my ko-fi!

[spriteofmushrooms]

Au where wen zhuliu becomes jiang cheng's bodyguard

[on ao3]

The puppies tumbled over Jiang Cheng's lap, each trying to give him kisses. Their bellies were round with milk, and they still didn't know how to play like big dogs could. But that was okay, because Jiang Cheng would teach them.

"Little Love, Jasmine, Precious, be careful! You're going to fall out of my lap!" Jiang Cheng picked up each and gently set them down, but they kept returning. Frustrated, Jiang Cheng snapped, "No! Bad puppies!"

At the loud sound, the dogs flinched and looked around, seeming more confused than ever.

"Is something wrong, Jiang-gongzi?"

Zhao Zhuliu had recently joined the sect. He was tall and looked older than most adults Jiang Cheng knew other than the aunties and uncles who sold food by the docks. He always wore gloves and didn't smile. Because Jiang Cheng was a stupid baby, his mother had decided that Zhao Zhuliu would be his bodyguard. Jiang Cheng hated it. Only useless boys like Jin Zhen needed bodyguards.

But he did need help.

"We have to go see a-jie, but I can't carry them all," Jiang Cheng said.

Expressionless, Zhao Zhuliu replied, "I will carry two."

Jiang Cheng wasn't sure if bodyguards knew anything about dogs, so he picked up Little Love and showed Zhao Zhuliu how Jiang Yanli had shown him how to carry puppies. "They're really small and get scared easily," he said sternly, "so you can't move too quickly. You have to support their whole body, but don't hold them like a cat, because they might jump down and hurt themselves. And you have to be nice to them."

"I will," Zhao Zhuliu said.

Little Love and Jasmine were more adventurous than Precious, so Jiang Cheng handed them one at a time to Zhao Zhuliu. It was funny to see the wiggly puppies in his black gloved hands, but they seemed comfortable there. Jasmine even started licking Zhao Zhuliu's wrist.

Holding Precious like a baby, Jiang Cheng led the way to Jiang Yanli's courtyard where she learned girl things like illusion dances. Along the way, Jiang Cheng explained that these puppies were very smart, because they were farm dogs who protected sheep from tigers and yao. "The farmer said they think they're part of the flock, and sometimes when a sheep is taken they track it down, and they come back covered in blood because they're good dogs, and the sheep cuddle with them because they love them. We don't have any sheep, though."

After a moment of silence, Zhao Zhuliu asked, "Earlier, when you yelled, were you worried?"

Jiang Cheng could feel his shoulders curving in. "Yes, Zhao-shishu."

"Dogs can't understand Chinese, so they don't know why you yelled. You have to think like a dog. Puppies are still babies, and they understand even less than adult dogs. You're much older than they are, so it's your responsibility to show them how to act. How else could you have showed them what you wanted?"

Jiang Cheng slowed down. That was the most he had ever heard Zhao Zhuliu say. For the rest of the walk, he offered examples of how he could better train the puppies while Precious tried to eat his hair.

———

Father picked up Wei Ying even though he never picked up Jiang Cheng except three times. Wei Ying was crying over nothing and Jiang Cheng couldn't have his puppies anymore and Father was walking away. Two disciples Jiang Cheng couldn't recognize through his tears had already picked up his puppies and they weren't doing it right because nobody cared about his puppies at all.

Zhao Zhuliu knelt before Jiang Cheng. "Xiao-gongzi, do you trust me?"

Looking up through his tears, Jiang Cheng studied Zhao Zhuliu's face. He still looked old, but his expressions weren't as scary now that he didn't look blank all the time. Jiang Cheng didn't think Zhao Zhuliu hated him even though Jiang Cheng had thrown a tantrum when he was assigned a bodyguard, and he knew that Zhao Zhuliu knew about dogs, and even liked his puppies.

"Y-yeah," Jiang Cheng sobbed.

"I will find a flock for Precious, Jasmine, and Little Love to protect. They're going to have a lot of sheep friends, Xiao-gongzi."

"Can I visit them?"

"Zongzhu and Yu-furen will determine that," Zhao Zhuliu said.

Jiang Cheng knew what that meant. He cried harder.

"Xiao-gongzi," Zhao Zhuliu said, then started again. "Jiang Cheng, I will return as soon as I find them a home. I swear it."

Jiang Cheng wanted to say they already had a home, or that he would run away with them, but both would be petulant and stupid. He nodded. When Zhao Zhuliu gestured sharply at the two disciples, they brought the puppies to Jiang Cheng so he could say goodbye. "Be good, be good," he whispered, kissing the soft fur on their heads.

[blluespirit]

I was thinking about the southern raiders again and i think one of the reasons i love it so much, is that despite not being in the group for very long, zuko immediately understands what katara needs to do more than anyone else in the group and takes it upon himself to give it to her - peace and to earn her forgiveness.

it's not really about revenge, its about confronting her trauma head on. ripping the monster from under the bed so it can no longer haunt her.

i like that zuko never puts an idea for what she has to do. it's actually aang who brings up revenge. zuko never says that's what she must do, and when she snaps back at Aang that hell, maybe revenge is what she needs, zuko doesn't shut her down either. its absolutely up to her.

the argument between aang, katara, zuko and sokka is telling - aang, while well meaning, can't understand katara's perspective. aang's pain is vast and deep and he has processed/is processing that in his own way, but what works for him, will not work for everyone. zuko sees katara's anger and it resonates with him - that is something he can understand.

I just love that zuko offers to find the man, and then goes all out defending katara's need to confront him. she needs this.

Here's the argument:

KATARA: We're going to find the man who took my mother from me. ZUKO: Sokka told me the story of what happened. I know who did it and I know how to find him. AANG: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish? KATARA: [shakes her head in dismay] Ugh, I knew you wouldn't understand. [begins to walk away] AANG: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people? ZUKO: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.' AANG: I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge. KATARA: [angrily] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that's what I need! Maybe that's what he deserves! AANG: Katara, you sound like Jet. KATARA: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. SOKKA: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. KATARA: Then you didn't love her the way I did! SOKKA: [hurt] Katara! AANG: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself. ZUKO: That's cute, but this isn't air temple preschool. It's the real world. KATARA: Now that I know he's out there ... now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice. AANG: Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness. ZUKO: That's the same as doing nothing! AANG: No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive. KATARA: It's not just hard, it's impossible.

but I also love that because none of this happens without zuko's knowledge.

zuko is just the means to an end, and he's okay with that. What katara ultimately decides to do is up to her;

but zuko is going make damn sure he's there to make sure she's able to make that decision:

they make it to the southern raiders and zuko charges in, deflects the commanders fire and when he asks them who they are, zuko responds perfectly. he's angry for her. he never tries to make it about himself and his actions confronting the Southern Raiders Commander and Yon Rah reflect this:

COMMANDER: Who are you? ZUKO: You don't remember her? You will soon, trust me. [katara starts bloodbending him. zuko looks shocked for a moment, before quickly returning his attention back to the commander] ZUKO: Think back. Think back to your last raid on the Southern Water Tribe. COMMANDER: I don't know what you're talking about. Please, I don't know! ZUKO: [bending down closer to the commander] Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did. [katara realises he's not the man, says as much and begins to walk away. zuko realises he still has a role to play to help katara] ZUKO: [grabs the weak commander and pins him to the wall] If you're not the man we're looking for, who is? COMMANDER: You must be looking for Yon Rha. He retired four years ago.

He does it again when they confront Yon Rah:

[Yon Rha is walking. he stops and turns around once more] Nobody sneaks up on me without getting burned! [drops basket of vegetables and firebends at a nearby bush] sensing no one, he picks up the fallen vegetables and continues on his way. He unknowingly steps on a thin wire, causing him to fall into the mud. He tries to get up only to see a fire blast coming his way which he quickly avoids. Zuko appears before him. ZUKO: We weren't behind the bush. [zuko takes a step forward to threaten him] And I wouldn't try firebending again!

After this, zuko steps back and lets katara handle it in the way she sees fit.

even its inferred that zuko thought it was violence that katara needed by what he says to aang at the end of the episode;

ZUKO: You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer.

the point is he never says it to her and he keeps that largely to himself and when she decides to spare his life, while visibly shocked and hangs back a moment to glare at yon rah, he respects katara's decision and sees that's what she needed:

basically what im saying is that whether you ship them or see them as friends, their dynamic is immediately compelling, interesting and respectful.

[4barbatos]

✦ bf!venti headcanons

modern au fluff + crack .ᐟ

✦ author’s note:

it’s literally 3 am and i had to write this because i love him so much it’s physically painful.

like idk why venti fluff doesn’t make me cringe the way other fluff does… i think i’m just too far gone.

anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this little mess of venti fluff and crack as much as i loved writing it. <3

✦ bf!venti insists on carrying everything from the grocery store in one trip like a sweaty little gremlin.

“my strength stat is high, babe. i’ve got this.”

he’s wobbling with 12 bags per arm, a sack of rice on his back, and a baguette clenched between his teeth like a sword.

he trips on the stairs.

“i don’t got this” he says dramatically from the floor.

the baguette did not survive.

✦ bf!venti is the type to start a pillow fight at 2 am and then cry when you actually hit him.

“ow, babe?? that was so aggressive??”

“you smacked me first??”

“yes, but gently, with the delicate breeze of a spring wind. you swung like a storm cloud.”

you hit him again.

he squeals and tackles you off the bed.

the neighbors file a noise complaint. again.

✦ bf!venti breaks into your apartment at 11 pm because he “missed your face” and forgot he has a key.

“venti why are you climbing through my window.”

“door was locked.”

“you have a key.”

“i thought this would be more romantic. also more dramatic. also i wanted to pretend i was romeo.”

“romeo dies.”

“and i’d die for you”

you hit him with a pillow. he deserved it.

✦ bf!venti lays on top of you like a weighted blanket every time he’s tired.

“venti you’re crushing my lungs.”

“shhh. i’m recharging my bardic powers.”

“you’ve been asleep for two hours.”

“time flows differently when you’re in love.”

“that’s not how time works.”

he snores in response.

✦ bf!venti keeps buying you useless little trinkets because they “look like your vibe.”

“i saw this plastic frog holding a banjo and thought of you.”

“…thank you?”

“he’s our son now. i named him lil croaky.”

lil croaky now lives on your nightstand. he watches you sleep. venti thinks it’s romantic.

✦ bf!venti insists on being little spoon and throws a tantrum when you try to switch.

“you can’t just abandon me like this. i’m your emotional support bard.”

“i’m literally right next to you.”

“but i need to be held. like a soft little burrito. like a baby loaf of bread.”

you give in. he giggles and wiggles backwards into your arms like a smug worm.

✦ bf!venti gets the hiccups every time he laughs too hard. which would be cute if he didn’t laugh at everything.

“babe. i stepped on a grape and it made a fart sound.”

“hic—”

“you’re so dumb it’s hic—it’s adorable hic—hic—i think i’m dying.”

you have to rub his back like a baby. he milks it for 40 minutes.

✦ bf!venti kisses you while holding random objects like they’re bouquets.

he shows up at your door with a broom.

“swept off your feet, aren’t you?”

another day it’s a loaf of bread: “you’re the yeast of my heart.”

you almost cry when he gives you a literal traffic cone and says, “you’ve coned my heart.”

you kiss him anyway. you’re too far gone.

✦ bf!venti texts you “baby open the window” at 1 am. you do. he’s outside with a ukulele and no shirt on.

“i wrote a song for you. it’s called ‘please let me in, it’s cold.’”

“just use the door??”

“but this is more cinematic.”

he strums one horrible chord and sneezes mid-verse.

✦ bf!venti keeps a scrapbook of your relationship but it’s 90% dumb things you’ve said.

“you once told me that pigeons have beef with god.”

“i was tired.”

“you also said you’d fight a duck for me.”

“romantic.”

“you wrote ‘i’d let you ruin my credit score’ in a valentine’s card.”

“accurate.”

he’s crying. he thinks you’re poetry.

✦ bf!venti gets dramatic about how much he misses you even if you leave for 10 minutes.

“i watched three pigeons while you were gone. none of them were you.”

“i missed you like the sea misses the moon.”

“i made a playlist called ‘come back or i’ll die.’ it’s all just rain sounds and sobbing.”

“venti i was at the gas station.”

“AND YET I FELT EMPTY.”

✦ bf!venti sends you cursed selfies with captions like:

“just woke up. do i look like a man with secrets.”

“tell me i’m the prettiest or i’ll combust.”

“would you still date me if i looked like this during a medieval plague.”

it’s just him with a scarf wrapped around his head and two grapes stuck to his forehead.

✦ bf!venti treats every inconvenience like a tragedy only love can heal.

“they forgot my sauce at mcdonald’s. this is devastating.”

“i’ll share mine with you.”

“…you’d do that?”

“yes, babe.”

he clutches your face with ketchup fingers like you just gave him a kidney.

“i would die for you.”

✦ bf!venti walks around the apartment with his shirt tucked into his boxers and calls it “a vibe.”

“i am cozy. i am invincible. i am fashion.”

“you look like a sim that didn’t load right.”

“you look like my future spouse.”

you throw a blanket on him and he immediately falls asleep under it like a cat.

✦ bf!venti makes you sit on his lap while he plays video games “for power.”

“your presence enhances my gamer skill.”

“you’ve died five times.”

“but emotionally, i’m thriving.”

he kisses your arm mid-match and falls off the chair.

“still worth it” he says, from the floor.

✦ bf!venti won’t let you be sad for longer than 10 minutes without trying to summon joy through sheer bardic nonsense.

“you’re not smiling. unacceptable. emergency measures must be taken.”

cue: him walking in wearing a blanket cape and sunglasses, holding a loaf of bread like a sword.

“behold: the gluten knight. i will battle your sadness with carbs and interpretive dance.”

you laugh so hard you start crying.

he wipes your tears with a tortilla.

✦ bf!venti kisses you like you’re the last song before the world ends.

like every touch might be his last.

like he’s afraid the universe will forget he ever got to love you.

“you make everything sound like a poem.”

“that’s because everything is, when it’s you.”

he grins against your lips like a fool in love.

and you kiss him back like you are, too.