halfdeadsacrifice

[halfdeadsacrifice]

some ace people have simple and straightforward relationships to kink.

not vayu though. the aceness is simple. how the kink factors in is Not.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

[halfdeadsacrifice]

²⁶⁾ rooms decorated with trinkets

Ever so carefully, Vayu places the little reliquary on a bare spot on the shelves, between a preserved hand with each finger turned to candles and a glass display case containing a black pearl.

The new trinket of interest is a gold and silver coffer, easily held in both palms, a bit tarnished but in a way that gave it character. It was also formerly full of finger-bones of the now re-deceased (for good, hopefully) lich's victims.

"I returned the knucklebones to the graves, where I could find them," Vayu explained. "And identify them. Put the rest to the pyre."

He laughed, softly. "I know you wouldn't have minded either way, but it felt more right, you know?"

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Vayu opened his mouth, but Curumë attacked before he could say a word. He spun around to try and tail his movements, but even this was too slow.

The next thing Vayu knew, his legs gave out and he found himself on his back, looking up. His expression was wide eyed with surprise, but paired with an incredulous frown and huff.

His hands shot out on instinct, and grabbed Curumë by the wrist and shoulder mid-pounce, like a bull by the horns. He pushed against him, with the intent to shove him to the floor next to Vayu, rather than atop him.

The things Curumë made him do to get his hair tie back... despite it all, as they wrestled, Vayu's lips curled into a sly smile.

@halfdeadsacrifice cont from (x)

Vayu let out a frustrated huff, as he reached again for the hair tie -- and once again, despite practically lunging forth at Curumë, the bastard dodged back, and the tie wavered out of his reach. He lowered his hand, and glared up at Curumë, hovering above him, taunting him. "You're awful, you know that?" he grumbled. He grabbed Curumë's other arm, stood on the tips of his toes, and reached again -- futilely. "Come on, what do you want?!" he demanded, as he stretched and reached and grasped at the tie. "Attention? Single combat? Extra dessert? Name your price, devil!"

Curumë's eyes wandered down to Vayu when he grabbed him by the arm—the dark-skinned, black-eyed human who had somehow stolen his way into Curumë's heart with no lesser skill than that of the rogue himself. For a brief moment, the mischievous streak in his smile softened into one of adoration.

Had anyone else dared to trap him like this, Curumë would have slipped a dagger between their ribs faster than they could think. But Vayu's hold on him was different. Safe, comfortable even. At least, until Curumë stretched his arm higher and removed the hair tie even further from the other's grasp.

"Don't you know?" he leaned forward to whisper into his lover's ear, "All I ever want is you." He paused. "And a good spar."

With a sudden shift of weight, Curumë twisted like smoke through Vayu’s grip and flipped their positions entirely, ducking low and then rising behind his lover in one fluid motion. The grin on his face was that of a madman as he swept Vayu's legs from under him, ready to straddle him if he didn't get up fast enough.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Everything I’ve Ever Let Go Of Has Claw Marks On It

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Vayu let out a frustrated huff, as he reached again for the hair tie -- and once again, despite practically lunging forth at Curumë, the bastard dodged back, and the tie wavered out of his reach.

He lowered his hand, and glared up at Curumë, hovering above him, taunting him.

"You're awful, you know that?" he grumbled. He grabbed Curumë's other arm, stood on the tips of his toes, and reached again -- futilely.

"Come on, what do you want?!" he demanded, as he stretched and reached and grasped at the tie. "Attention? Single combat? Extra dessert? Name your price, devil!"

"Give me back my hair tie, you fiend!" [@halfdeadsacrifice because i'd been thinking about that specific Thing:tm: ]

Curumë took another step back, his feet barely skimming the ground as he increased the distance between him and his lover with ease. In his hand, Vayu's ribbon danced like the tail end of some fancy dress, swinging left and right when he lifted his arm and dangled it above Vayu's head, just high enough to stay out of the man's reach. "Come and get it then, you vicious puppy," he said and laughed, and with his challenge spoken, propelled himself backward before Vayu could grab him.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Vayu froze in place, raised his hands defensively, and muttered "woah."

Of course, he should have known better -- walking up behind someone was already a bit of a bad idea if you hadn't seen them in a while, and it seemed like an especially bad idea for someone like Audrey: a little jumpy and quick to shoot, that is.

Even adventurers had to take break sometimes. In Vayu's particular case, he had a home and a family to come back to. It simply wasn't fair to stay away from them for too long.

He'd considered inviting Audrey, of course, but he was unsure if he like... should? No offense to her or anyone, but he was already on kind of thin ice with his brother when it came to 'adventuring friends' (as Hiran so derisively called them) staying in the guest room.

Still, he felt bad for it, and made sure to bring something back for her -- which he'd fetch from his pack as soon as this tense meeting-again was over with.

Audrey sitting on a stump and doing idle notes in her main compendium of sorts. She's thumbing through the rough pages covered in uneven writing and haphazard sketching. It's not that old, she got it first when first traveling the road. Most of her magical knowledge was memorized and based in trial and error, a space to workshop her custom spells and runes had been worthwhile. Even noting down phenomenon and beasts that she'd never encountered before, especially if it inspired the expansion of her own talents.

Her familiar sits on the opposite page she wrote on, wordlessly adding his own input to her writing and theorizing. Huckleberry isn't able to do much of the physical guarding as a small bird but he made a fantastic look out. Most of the time. His warnings aren't always clear with empathic communication or alerting her in unconventional ways.

As he suddenly takes flight and hide in the cloak where the excessive cloth bunches around her neck and shoulders. Just as he does when something makes him unnerved a habit kept since they met. Only a half a moment after she could feel the shadow of a figure over her approaching from behind. A flash to an old courtyard where other children mingled, books in hand, and the sun being obscured over her by another's presence. When...

That simple sequence of events and the lack of preparation for company has her mind referring back to another similar scenario, invoking similar feelings. Well in combination of the feelings from hindsight. If she reacted on it now the path can change.

A sudden jolt up ushers a chilly gust of wind to lift her onto her feet and turned to who approached. One arm hugged her book tight to herself and the free hand able to ready... something. Impulse was telling her it needed to be violent and maintain her space, while second thoughts had to push themselves forward to not just launch a lightning-covered fist blindly.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

...should he just say it?

Maybe, if he was confident enough, firm enough, casual enough -- honest, too -- it would deter him.

After all, Vayu had no idea what Caligo would want with the truth, what use he would have for what was actually buried here. Logically, nothing. Nobody did, but him.

Vayu took a deep breath, and forced himself to look the interloper in the eyes.

"...hair," he said in a huff. "A... thing of long hair. That's it."

When Vayu got onto his path, he scowled. The guy had some nerves to get in his way. And his annoyance only grew when the other got very vague. But when he said ‘If you’re looking for a body, it’s not here either.’ Caligo snapped his head to the other, snarling now. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?! Why don’t you just say it what I will find, might be a lot less words than what you just used in telling me what I WON’T be finding.”

[halfdeadsacrifice]

SOFT(ish) ANGST PROMPTS

“  i thought you were gone.  for good. ”

“  you left and—  i thought you weren’t coming back.  ”

“  i miss you.  i know i’m not supposed to,  but.  i just had to see you.  ”  

“  please don’t scare me like that again.  i can take a lot of things,  but not losing you.  ”

“  i can’t even take the very thought of you getting hurt.  ”

“  you could’ve gotten yourself killed! you could’ve— fuck!  you scared the shit outta me.  ” 

“  yes.  i am telling you what to do.  i’m telling you not to pull something like that again because—  ‘cause fucking hell.  i care about you.  okay? ”  

“  i found myself driving home and then.  well i was on my way here.  ‘cause i guess…you’re still my home.  ” 

“  please,  tell me why you’re upset.  tell me who did this?  ”

“  you don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know.  i can clean up my own messes.  ”

“  don’t talk.  just get the fuck over here and hold me.  ”

“  loving you is like having my heart just out in the world.  outside of my body walking around.  every time i see you hurting,  it kills me.  ”

“  i made you cry.  and i hate myself for that.  i swore i wouldn’t be one of the people who left you hurting.  ”

“  you really hurt me this time.  but i want to let go of that.  i really do want to forgive you i’m just scared you’ll hurt me again.  ”

“  i know you’re mad at me right now,  but i’m the one who’s here.  let me be here.  let me help.  you can be angry later.  ”

“  i’m here now.  i know i wasn’t before.  but i should’ve been.  and i’m not going anywhere.  i’m not gonna let that happen again.  ”

“  it’s time to come home now.  ”

“  that’s enough.  you’ve got your revenge.  let’s go.  ”

“  i know you’re hurting.  and i can’t fix that.  but i can refuse to let you hurt alone.  ”

“  i’m never letting go of you.  i missed you so fucking much.  ”

“  look at me,  you’re safe.  and you’re not alone.  and i’ll never let you be alone again.  you understand?  ”

“  i broke my promise to you once.  i’ll never do it again.  ”

“  i don’t need you to go white knighting and fix all this.  i just want you here.  with me.  that will make me feel better.  ”

“  just stay still and let me hold you.  ”

“  you don’t have to hide your tears.  let it out.  then we’ll move on,  together.  ”

“  i just.  needed to talk to you ‘cause.  somehow you always know what to say.  ”

“  don’t bury your feelings.  sadness.  hurt.  rage.  feel it.  acknowledge it so you can decide what you want to do with it.  not what it will do to you.  ”

“  i miss your smile.  and not that sad one you try to fool everyone with.  the real one.  the one you used to show me.  ”

“  come here.  i’m taking care of you tonight.  and you’re gonna let me.  ”  

1) our muses reunite after sender thought receiver was dead. 

2) our muses reunite after receiver thought sender was dead. 

3) sender shows up at receiver’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 

4) receiver shows up at sender’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 

5) our muses are on bad terms but reunite after one of them nearly dies. 

6) sender finds receiver crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 

7) receiver finds sender crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 

8) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but sender rushes to take care of receiver after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 

9) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but receiver rushes to take care of sender after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 

10) sender hurt receiver in some way,  which led to receiver doing something reckless and sender shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath. 

11) receiver hurt sender in some way,  which led to sender doing something reckless and receiver shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath.

12) our muses are in a fight,  but cuddle anyway because they don’t like sleeping alone. 

13) receiver wakes sender from a nightmare. 

14) sender wakes receiver from a nightmare. 

15) sender wakes up in the hospital and finds receiver at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 

16) receiver wakes up in the hospital and finds sender at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 

17) our muses are currently on the outs,  but receiver goes through something traumatic and sender pushes past their friends to get to them. 

18) our muses are currently on the outs,  but sender goes through something traumatic and receiver pushes past their friends to get to them. 

[halfdeadsacrifice]

🌺 send this to ten muns you think are wonderful 🌺

[ <3 ty ty. I don't usually pass on chain letter stuff, but you get a 🌺🌺 too]

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Cecilia Bustamante, from a poem featured in Woman who has sprouted Wings; poems by contemporary Latin American Women Poets

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Vayu closed his eyes, felt the kiss on his scalp, then opened his eyes again. There was no time to lose.

He clung to Curumë's hand -- now, his stride had a flicker of confidence in it, reignited after ages, though still a weak and guttering fire in his posture. He lifted his head as the jungle cleared, the open sky revealed to him once again.

He felt the grip around his hand squeeze, he heard Curumë's halting words. With a deep breath, Vayu drank in the air. The scent of burning flesh and corpses lay on the horizon.

Lowering his gaze and glancing back at Curumë, he nodded once, his heartbeat thumping so powerfully it clogged his throat.

That lump only grew sharper as the pair approached the river, and the stench grew stronger, and the murmuring of the river came closer. And then, Vayu's heart sank from his throat to his stomach.

The eerie glow formed the outlines of innumerable spirits, flowing like water down the wide and winding way. It was broken up by slabs, slate, broken pieces of statues, the occasional bronze-work, floating among the ephemeral bodies as they clawed, wailed, and moaned.

Time had stopped for Curumë. He still clung to Vayu, his fingers clawing into his partner’s shoulders, pale, clammy, and numb from the tight grip he kept on his lover. There was silence, and the silence said everything that remained unspoken.

Even so, no absolution and no consolation could have saved Curumë from drowning in the nakedness of this truth. He had come to accept it, to know it from the bottom of his heart, taught to him by an eternity of imprisonment, of being bound and chained with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

Vayu pulled back to look at him, and Curumë let go, gaping at the pain and heartache in the other’s eyes. Again. He let out a final sob, embracing his lover as the man gently wiped away his tears, as if the Half-Elf deserved it somehow, and proceeded to rest his head against his shoulder.

"Yes," he said, trying to smile through the pain. It was an ugly expression. "Yes," he repeated, running his fingers through Vayu’s hair and pressing a kiss to his scalp before rising to his feet and helping his partner do the same.

"Let’s go. It’s about time you were free of the suffering I’ve caused you."

The jungle remained dense and dangerous around them as they continued fighting their way through it, hand in hand, two lovers in the midst of hell. But eventually, the leaves grew less sharp, the darkness less somber, and the voices around them less vicious.

And then they reached it: the edge, an empty, desolate plain with an even emptier, more desolate sky above. And in the distance, a river glowing with an eerie light.

Curumë squeezed Vayu's hand. "We almost made it," he said, taking a few steps into the open field, halting only to ask, "Will you trust me, just this final time?"

He swallowed, holding his breath, and listening to his own racing heart, awaited his lover's response.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

Elizabeth Acevedo, from The Poet X; “If Your Hand Causes You to Sin”

[Text ID: “And for the first time in my life / I understand the word desperate. / How it’s a pointed hunger in the / belly. / Please. Please. Please.”]

[halfdeadsacrifice]

[ spooning ] sender wraps around receiver protectively and mumbles half-asleep affirmations into their shoulder

Vayu turned his head from the book, looking over his shoulder at the strange little barnacle that had attached themselves to him. Not that he minded, of course.

Really, it was difficult to not get squished together on this tiny little bed. He didn't mind that either -- his family was being exceedingly generous in letting him and Iago stay indefinitely, and he didn't want to tax them by asking for a bigger bed, especially when it was hardly a problem.

He squinted (despite trying to hear, not see...), straining to discern Iago's words. Yet, he could not make it out. It sure sounded sweet though, even if it was a sweet and sticky mush.

A small smile came over his face. He lay a hand over Iago's, gently slipping his fingers in between their own. He turned his body, so that he could properly leave a kiss on their forehead, before nestling back onto his side like before.

A few pages of Vayu's book had flipped while he wasn't paying attention, making him lose his place. He squinted again, flipping through it at a leisurely pace.

[halfdeadsacrifice]

⁵⁷⁾ evenings on the porch - Curumë @chainedbychoice

@chainedbychoice

A long time ago, Vayu got up right at the crack of dawn, ready to start his work for the day. Ready to make breakfast for everyone, ready to take the meat drying on the rack down for preparation, ready to trek into the wood at first light... often, he worked through the sunrise, only able to admire it in snatches. Same with the sunset, as he returned in twilight ready to spend the evening cleaning and cutting the day's catch, making dinner, finishing up any other assorted chores that slipped his hands during the day.

Here, none of those material concerns mattered, and he had escaped the hellish jungle, and come back to a place he could see some version of the sky. Still, Vayu had spent most of his time in the past days sleeping in. It wasn't a great look, especially given his and Curumë's efforts to build a new house here, but he was so exhausted, he could hardly help himself. By the time he was awake enough to crawl out of the bedroll and peek outside the tent, this shard of heaven was already firmly within the day's light. Sometimes, he'd look up and realize it was already dark.

Now, most of the house was finished. The walls and roof had been filled in, become sturdy and solid. The frame of the porch was half-full, missing only the tall and wide window panes, and all the plants Vayu hoped to nurture here. The pace of the pair's excited work had slowed.

Vayu brought a chair to the near-finished porch -- a whim born of new idleness -- and sat down. Purple and pink hues came over the sky. Without a word, he gazed up, drinking in the colours and the fading light with wide eyes, as though seeing it for the very first time.

domestic prompts | Accepting

[halfdeadsacrifice]

‧₊˚ 🏠 ✩ domestic prompts

¹⁾ a basket of laundry left in a doorway

²⁾ a sticky note on a pillow

³⁾ colourful fridge magnets

⁴⁾ a laden clothesline

⁵⁾ plates of fresh-cut fruit

⁶⁾ towels warm from the dryer

⁷⁾ the whistle of a kettle

⁸⁾ messy bedsheets

⁹⁾ books stacked on a nightstand

¹⁰⁾ a cupboard of mismatched mugs

¹¹⁾ fresh-brewed tea

¹²⁾ a sink full of dishes

¹³⁾ pictures lined up on a mantlepiece

¹⁴⁾ sun-warmed floorboards

¹⁵⁾ odd socks

¹⁶⁾ overflowing paper grocery bags

¹⁷⁾ a steamed-up bathroom mirror

¹⁸⁾ dinner left in the oven to keep warm

¹⁹⁾ a porcelain teapot

²⁰⁾ mismatched cutlery

²¹⁾ potted herb plants lined up on a windowsill

²²⁾ a stocked bar cart

²³⁾ a teeming closet

²⁴⁾ cold tiles

²⁵⁾ a shared bath

²⁶⁾ rooms decorated with trinkets

²⁷⁾ a jewellery dish

²⁸⁾ shoes left by a doorway

²⁹⁾ a faded portrait in an old frame

³⁰⁾ soft lamplight

³¹⁾ the drone of a ceiling fan

³²⁾ homemade lemonade

³³⁾ a messy makeup vanity

³⁴⁾ faded coasters

³⁶⁾ lit candles

³⁷⁾ frayed couch cushions

³⁸⁾ a blanket draped over a sleeping form

³⁹⁾ creaky stairs

⁴⁰⁾ fresh-cut timber

⁴¹⁾ an overgrown garden

⁴²⁾ a spare room

⁴³⁾ a medicine cabinet

⁴⁴⁾ jasmine bath salts

⁴⁵⁾ soft pyjamas

⁴⁶⁾ bare feet on cold floorboards

⁴⁷⁾ sunday dinners

⁴⁸⁾ post scattered under the letterbox

⁴⁹⁾ family photos

⁵⁰⁾ an old armchair

⁵¹⁾ scrawled-on calendars

⁵²⁾ a roaring fireplace

⁵³⁾ reminders stuck to the fridge

⁵⁴⁾ boardgames

⁵⁵⁾ a dusty attic

⁵⁶⁾ smoke curling out of a chimney

⁵⁷⁾ evenings on the porch

⁵⁸⁾ a record player

⁵⁹⁾ tangled chargers

⁶⁰⁾ a chipped bathtub

⁶¹⁾ a silver serving tray

⁶²⁾ souvenir shot glasses

⁶³⁾ a blackout

⁶⁴⁾ movie nights

⁶⁵⁾ a late dinner party

⁶⁶⁾ half-finished crochet projects

⁶⁷⁾ a loose thread on a sweater

⁶⁸⁾ dog leads hung by the door

⁶⁹⁾ a leaning coatrack

⁷⁰⁾ a grocery list

⁷¹⁾ patterned dishes

⁷²⁾ bright teatowels

⁷³⁾ an empty drawer

⁷⁴⁾ vhs tapes

⁷⁵⁾ documentary reruns

[halfdeadsacrifice]

[ sleepy mumble ] receiver starts dozing off, and sender whispers soft things they won’t remember in the morning + ❝ there’s no one else i’d rather build a life with. ❞ - Curumë @chainedbychoice

@chainedbychoice

It was all too easy for Vayu to assume he was already dreaming when he heard the words. The idea of Curumë settling down was an absurd one. How did he intend to build a life out here with Vayu when he kept running off into the night to gamble and steal in the next town over?

At the same time, the fact that he always came back by morning, the satisfying ache in Vayu's muscles after a long day of work that Curumë stood by him for, recalling how he sat in the grass and watched him and Niraja play tag...

Vayu sank into sleep with the aid of Curumë's hands over his sore frame and his whispers in his ear, falling into the best kind of dream: pleasant, grounded, a little fantastic, but tantalizingly believable.

wrapped up in you | Accepting