contrary to popular belief, pac knows some things.
he knows that cellbit is his family.
he knows that cell is still resentful from alcatraz.
he knows that cellbit would never hurt him,
but he knows that cell would.
and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he knows that cellbit and cell are the same person.
and he knows that cell is going to kill him.
and he’s okay with that.
okay, maybe he’s not okay with it, he’s fucking terrified, but he’s accepted it. it’s inevitable, he knows nothing he does or says could change his fate now. he doesn’t know if he wants to change it.
.
he’s scared,
he’s alone,
but he’s come to peace with his impeding death.
maybe it’s his time, maybe cell knows best. maybe this is the best course of action. pac trusts his judgement.
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! Warning! In Stars and Time spoilers ahead.
Quick little drabble from Siffrin's POV under the cut.
Character angst focused.
The shock to your brain, to your senses, is so bad that you feel yourself falling, twisting, blacking out. It is pain, a throbbing migraine, stars exploding behind your eyes, a ripping sensation as everything is dragged out of your hands and tossed away like an unwanted toy.
Your brain
stutters
restarts
resets.
The ground is hard, and gritty, and cold. Your back presses against it, and you are staring up, up at the dark void above you, little pricks of white light finally finishing their swimming motion back in the position where they should be– Universe guide us– last vestiges of thought dripping through your fingers as your eyes widen with–
You don’t remember what this sensation is.
Some kind of feeling. Some kind of emotion.
…what were you doing again?
You slowly sit up. There are people around you, speaking. Gesturing. You listen to their words, but they are
garbled
foreign
unrecognizable.
You open your mouth, try to ask–
…what are the right words?
Your brain starts to burn, pain, searing pain rearing back up again.
You don’t know the words.
One of the people around you finally says something your brain catches, hooks its claws into and clings to for dear life. “Hello?”
That was… Vaugardian, your brain quickly shoves this into your hands. You had learned the bare minimum before… before…
You’re not sure before what.
The people are still speaking, and you start to slowly catch a few more words… but they aren’t matching the order that you try and place them, the meanings all jumbled, all wrong, you don’t–
Your clutch your head in your hands as it pulses again. Something is wrong– your home is– you scream
and
scream
but by the time your throat catches, and you gasp for more air, you have already forgotten just what it is you are screaming about.
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Square: A1 - On Your Knees
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~1,900
Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retired Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Established Relationship, Rimming, Teasing, Ficlet
"I have to admit, this one is a tried and true fantasy of mine. Feels a bit like I should savor it."
Dream tenses again, back ramrod straight. "You will not—"
"Hush." Hob nips a reprimand into the bony curve of Dream's hip. "It's my turn, remember?"
fill for @dreamlingbingo.
[AO3]
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Kaz no
If my handwriting is to sucky, transcription below
How cool is that?
Dragons are the luckiest creatures ever,
because i’d give fucking anything,
to have never existed.
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"Mo-ourgh-ty," Rick said, leaning over Morty. His voice was full of repressed violence, his whole behavior screamed danger. The knife he held against Morty's neck was laying on the green blanket, but the young boy knew that even if Rick was drunker than drunk, his reflexes were still better than his.
"R-r-r-rick, wh-what are-" he stuttered, his eyes full of tears. He didn't know what was happening, the last thing he remembered was getting back from another adventure with Rick, dead tired, and now his grandpa was threatening him, calling him a simulation, a fake. Waking him up from a sweet, sweet dream where Rick finally told him he loved, appreciated him, where his voice was so soft, so caring. He wanted to sleep back; he wanted that Rick.
"Shu-shut up!" Rick growled, grabbing Morty's cheeks with a hand, painfully squeezing them together.
"Open up, Morty."
His lips parted, a gasp escaping. Rick's fingers dug into his skin, opening his jaws like he would do it to a dog. His mouth fell open, drool dripping down his chin, over Rick's hand.
The dangerous glint in his grandpa's eyes didn't lessen, but the atmosphere changed, it charged with something strange, something that Morty was familiar, yet unfamiliar with. His cheeks grew hotter at the look in Rick's eyes, at humiliation, at those shameful feelings that were bubbling inside of him ever since Rick started to drag him on adventures.
Rick's smile is something threatening, something-
Filthy.
The only word Morty could think of was filthy. Leering, hungry, scorching hot.
"Y-you little s-sonovabitch, I'll sh-show you," he leaned forward, the sour stench of alcohol almost making Morty to gag. "I'll sh-show everyone!"
It took Morty as a surprise when Rick spit into his mouth. The alcohol and the humiliation burnt his inside. He wanted to cry, he wanted to gag, he wanted to escape-
He wanted.
"S-swallow it, you l-little f-freak," Rick growled, baring his teeth like a feral animal. Morty could do nothing, but to comply, swallowing his grandpa's alcohol-filled saliva. Rick's thumb caressed his lower lip, the gentleness was strange compared to his harsh actions and those deep, deep eyes full of secrets.
"Y-you are a-a g-good kid, M-Morty," the old man muttered. Warmth flooded the little body, but it was nothing compared to the burning sensation of Rick's lips meeting his. He already had his first kiss, but-
It was Rick fucking Sanchez. Nobody else worth anything, compared to him.
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