#and even if it were people's memories are fuzzy and they say things that aren't totally true

[ddollfface]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚; 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝘂𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗺𝗮'𝘀 𝗗𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘁.

Throughout your whole life, you've always felt a sort of presence loom over you. Whether it's protecting you or not, you have no clue, but it's always been there. Somewhat like a mole on the bottom of your foot or that itch in the back of your brain when something is wrong. It's always there, but there's nothing you can do about it. Well, without drastic measures.

You're not sure if it's human or not, but you're assuming so, though the thought is alarming. It's the only reasonable option. I mean, there's no such thing as demons or ghosts, right? So that just leaves the only option, that it's some type of person, some being, possibly a government. Of course, you'd prefer that it'd be some paranoid thought you've conjured in your unconscious, but you're sure that's not the case. How can that be the case when money appears at your, albeit unkept, doorstep? Or how you can sense the eyes on you while you training? And worst of all, how you can just feel the disappointed stare when you're on a date with some random classmate? The pure annoyance in the stare convinces you that this thing is real, that it isn't a figment of your imagination.

And it makes you wonder why. Why do you feel this presence? Well, you're sure that it could be linked to the fact that you're not... normal. There's always been something different about you; you've known this since the day your mama left you. That fearful look in her eyes when she says you smash a plate, just for holding it a little too tight. You thumb and pointer squeezing too much. It was as if she'd been taken back to a memory you weren't aware of, and you still aren't today.

Even at the age of seventeen, you still aren't aware of why your mama left in such haste, leaving everything she owned, only having the clothes on her back and her wallet. It puzzled you, though you were only twelve years old. You knew it was something you'd done; you caused your mama to leave. It was your fault, something you did.

And that's when it started, the presence, I mean. It's always been there, but you started noticing it far more frequently after your mama left. Before, it'd only appear once or twice a year, but now it was every month, maybe more.

For some reason, unknown to you, your mama leaving caused something to change. Something in you changed. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, both physically and mentally. You began to assess everything you'd do, trying to comprehend what you could've done to cause your mama to do such a thing, to leave her only daughter, her only child.

Was breaking a plate really that otherwordly to your mama? Sure, you'd only been twelve, but you were sure that girls your age had done the same?

Well, the more you thought of it, the more odd your strength was. You'd always been... stronger than most girls. That was undeniable. Both you and your mother knew of this. It was something in the back of your mind, something you had to be aware of.

You were different. You had to be more careful when you played. You couldn't go overboard, get too excited, and the next thing you knew a girl had a broken arm. The strength you possessed scared you; you didn't want to hurt people.

And with your strength came blood, so much blood, so much pain. Pain that you had caused. You really didn't mean it; you just wanted to play with all the other girls, but you had done it now. Your grip was too tight. You had pushed her too hard. It was your fault, and now she was bleeding. Oh, oh, oh, she was bleeding, a lot.

God, how you hate the smell of blood. The look of it, the feel of it, all of it; it made your head go fuzzy and your heart pound in your chest, but not in a bad way. Not in the way of when you fall off the monkey bars or when your mama catches you with your hand in the cookie jar. It's in the way of when the boy you like looks at you or when you've just finished playing a good game of ball. It's exhilarating, exciting even. You anticipate the feeling of blood between your fingers, rolling down your palm, and staining the sleeves of your uniform.

And that's what made you realize you were different. You didn't feel like other people, other girls, other kids. You were different, on a fundamental level. Even in the basics, how you felt was different. Was different even the right word? You're not too sure, but it scared you.

All these things you were feeling scared you. You didn't want to get pleasure from hurting others! It isn't right, you need help, you concluded. And that's when you realize that your mama ran away because of this, the feelings you get. Your own mama was scared of you. That's why she left you; you now understood.

You came to this understanding a few years ago, around three years, when you were fourteen. It was hard to accept, but you learned and evolved to comprehend your mama's actions. Instead of hating her for it, you sympathized with her. You understood. You would've done the same if you'd seen your darling daughter grow into this violent way of thought throughout the years.

That doesn't take away from the fact that you missed her; you missed your mama dearly. She was oh so kind to you. You miss her voice, her touch, and her cooking. Your mama was a good cook, far better than you've ever been. At least she left her cooking recipes, right?

Now, you are left alone.

Well, not completely alone. You have the ominous presence, you suppose. At least, you're not completely alone. If anything, the presence brings you back, sometimes, but not in a warm way. You can always sense when it's near. Your hair begins to stand, both on your head and on your neck.

Whenever it comes around, you can feel your muscles tense, your hair begins to float, and it's as if you're being reunited with something. With what? You don't know. There's a lot you don't know. You certainly don't know why you're connected to this presence in this way, but you do know how and what you're feeling. It makes you feel weak, like a bug.

You don't like feeling weak; you don't like how this presence makes you feel. You decided that over a year ago. That's when you began to train, wanting to become stronger, which was far easier than you thought.

You'd train day and night, trying to become stronger, better, faster. You wanted to rid yourself of this weak feeling, this feeling of submission you felt whenever you were around this presence. You wanted to harness this natural strength you were born with, this gift you were born with.

You wanted to find this presence and beat it into a bloody pulp for making you feel this way, for making your mama leave you. You didn't know how, but you knew they were connected. You knew that this presence was the cause of your strength, and you sought it out. You were going to find it and beat it, though it only watched from a distance, never getting too close.

This presence had been with you for years. You were sure that you'd be able to find it and beat it.

You'll make sure of it.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Wanna Try? - Gaz x Reader

Thinking about Gaz in the worst way possible

Thanks to @shotmrmiller for indulging in the brain worms with me.

Content Warnings - DUB-CON. I cannot stress this enough, this is dub-con, pretty much bordering on noncon. Anal, PiV, throat fucking, weed usage, Gaz is maybe kinda lacing the weed. Photos and videos being taken and sent to others without consent!

I've never been high before so; inaccuracies!!

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Don't read this if you KNOW you won't like it.

You had been curious about getting high. You'd never done it before but the way other people talked about, well you were curious. So you brought up with your boyfriend Kyle, asking him about it. He had been open about his personal usage for weed, helps clear his head after coming back from deployment and with the aches in his joints.

So of course he was willing to let you experience the high. He rolled up a blunt and handed it to you, demonstrating the best he could on how to handle the smoke. You coughed and wheezed the first few times but the fuzziness set in almost immediately. "Totally normal love. It's your first time after all."

Your movements are sluggish, it feels like your brain is a static TV. Your tongue feels swollen and heavy, too thick in your mouth. Your words slur like you're drunk and you can vaguely feel Gaz undoing the buttons of your trousers.

"What're doing?" You slur, trying to focus your eyes but find it too difficult so you close them. Some part of your brain acknowledges what he says, even if it's drowned out by the static. He doesn't sound like you do, do you even recall if he had more than one puff?

"Taking care of you. Don't worry."

Vaguely you wonder what can you do? You must've said it aloud because he murmurs something about taking it. Gaz absolutely enjoys seeing how oversensitive you are. Every other sense is dulled down but the way he works your already slick hole open for him. You're overly aware when his hot tongue swipes at your clit but your mouth feels like cotton you can barely moan.

The world spins and you jolt when you feel something push into you. Your nerves are raw, every sensation drawn out and at least tripled. It stings, it burns.

"Kyle," you whine and you feel him slip something sweet into your mouth.

"Chew and swallow dove." He commands and you do as he says, mind numb to the glint in his eyes.

"You can't." You slur.

"You can and will take it."

You wake up sore, it kind of hurts to sit and your memory is fuzzy. You were sure just smoking weed wasn't supposed to give you such fuzzy memories. But Gaz tells you it's normal, it was your first time getting high, what do you know? You suppose that's true and it did feel nice to get out of your head for a little while.

He's pushing you to do another session sometime that week. "You enjoyed it yeah? Let's do another then love."

Convinces you that the reason your throat hurts is because you aren't used to the weed yet. Still, something within your gut is ringing the alarm. That weed wouldn't result in your ass hurting or how sticky your panties are after sobering up.

It's a few weeks later, and several smoke sessions, that you need to use his phone since yours was dead. He handed it to you without thinking and pressed a quick kiss to your lips saying he's heading down to the store to grab a few things for dinner. You can't help but think about how doting he is, how wonderful he's been these last weeks.

It's curiosity that has you checking his gallery app. And maybe a want to find a cute picture he took of himself to use as a new lock screen. Your breathing stops and your stomach rolls when you see his latest videos and photos. Of course there's the usual selfies he takes with that radiate smile but you see pictures of yourself.

Pictures of you looking up into the camera, your lips stretched around his cock and spit dripping down your chin. Eyes glassy with tears and red from the weed. You tap on the most recent video, taken the same day you smoked with him. His hand is in your hair, soft grunts coming from his lips as he pistons his hips against your face. Soft gags coming from you that turn more violent the harder he fucks your throat.

"that's it's dove." He groans and his fist tightens in your hair. You vaguely realize he's coming down your throat.

You slide to the next video. Your ass is in full view of the camera, slapped red and raw. Your back arched as he fucks his cock into your ass. He spreads the cheeks with one hand so he can video it better. Your moaning and mewling in the background that gets louder the harder he fucks you.

"you love this don't you?" You weakly nod your head in response, "love it when your boyfriend uses you while you're high? What a slag." His hand comes down harshly on your ass that results in a yelp from you. You close out of the video, close out of the app and set the phone down.

Just be grateful you didn't look into his messages where he's been sending these pictures and videos to the rest of the task force.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled. 

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you. 

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose. 

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter. 

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

~

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special. 

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit. 

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them. 

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor. 

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

[bigblueoctoling]

Side Order Observations about Eight

Just a sort of nonspecific collection of thoughts about Eight (and some of Acht) in Side Order.

So, for starters, I feel that a lot of people are not fully taking advantage of the angst-fuel given to us here. A lot of people write it as though Eight is Suffering throughout the majority of this adventure, but that's not entirely accurate, I feel, to how Eight is characterized.

Going off of Eight's memcakes from Octo Expansion, Eight is someone who finds a lot of comfort in feeling powerful. She cites the usual casual play of turf war as something desirable, she finds comfort in using a charger. If anything, I feel that one of the reasons Eight was chosen by Marina to test this software was because of her affinity for combat- Marina assumes that the tower would even be too easy for her.

That being said, Eight surely felt a lot more anxious in particular about the present dangers early in the run- in particular, terrified of something bad happening to Marina. I sort of see Marina as a sort of maternal figure to Eight- I'd always pictured Marina and Pearl just sort of taking Eight home with them, I'm sure their mansion is big enough, and the fact that they take Eight along with them on the world tour kind of supports this idea. Probably the worst thing to threaten Eight with is threatening to hurt Marina. Or Pearl, of course, but especially Marina, given her nature.

I can imagine, of course, that Order is also an upsettingly familiar threat, but it likely wasn't as upsetting (until the Greyscaling) as seeing Marina in actual danger was.

But the piece of the story that I feel most people aren't acknowledging is the fact that Eight's palette- her soul- is so blatantly different, in function and in appearance, than everyone else's. That it calls back memories of the deepsea metro. Can you imagine what she must feel that says about her? How much more difficult her soul is to work with than anyone else's, even Octavio's.

There's a lot to work with, I feel, with Eight's palette. Feelings of inadequacy. Eight struggling a lot more with her palette than anyone else's; the fear that she might never be able to complete it? The trauma of being brought back mentally to deepsea metro. The whole locker situation there.

Worse yet, what about when she does complete it? Sure, one can assume Eight did get her memories back and she just doesn't say anything because she's Eight, and there's plenty to work with there- But what if it just doesn't do anything? Feeling guilt that it's her fault, because of her fucked up soul- and either way, not wanting to tell Marina this, because you've all worked so hard for this, and after everything, Eight just wants Marina to relax and be happy, but she can't deny the frustration of not knowing. Or the fear. Why doesn't this work for her? Why is she broken?

Or to tie the previous theory of Eight being a clone of Acht into this, why does Eight's palette unlock notes from Acht? Eight already struggles to know who she is- is she Acht? Somehow? Why doesn't she have her own memories? What does Acht know? What if she were to ask Acht, but they didn't know either?

Or to turn things around to Acht's perspective, imagine the fact that your palette is unaccounted for, you find Eight's, and Eight's starts unlocking your memories? All of the fuzzy spots in your memory start to be concerning. They can't help but compare themselves to Eight, what a disappointment to end up being chained onto you of all people when she's such an incredible person. Maybe you're the reason their soul is broken, somehow.

Also, I didn't mention this in my other post- I've headcanoned for some time that Eight deeply prefers being called Eight, and not 'Agent 8'; discomfort in being referred to as one in a series of numbers, discomfort with the association with the squidbeak splatoon, and so forth- it means the world to me that that's somehow canonical. It was an unreal moment to discover that. It makes me very happy that Eight properly uses Eight as her name.

[nabaath-areng]

The weirdest part about FFXIV for me now is that for years I considered myself a newbie. I was always around people who had played longer than me, both legacy and not, and with it also being my first ever MMO they all seemed so experienced to me.

... And here I am now, forgetting that I am in a sense closer to all those players I looked up to back then. Year after year I've seen fewer and fewer legacy mounts and titles, and as time goes by I am more and more shocked by how many I interact with who describe Shadowbringers as "the old days". And not only that, I realize then that 5 years IS a long time, and that all the things I keep thinking of as new and flashy (Gpose, job gauges etc) have been in the game longer than they have not.

Mind you, I became psychotic less than a year into my FFXIV career, and then I spent nearly a decade after that trying to heal from both that as well as the paranoia it left me with, so in a sense the years 2015-2022 might as well not have happened in terms of me remembering them in a way that matters. My vague measure of time between 2014 to 2019 in particular is only possible because I memorized FFXIV patches, since the game was practically the only thing keeping me both sane and alive. I cannot tell you what I did IRL in November 2015, but I can tell you what I did during patch 3.1.

And I guess that's why it all feels so mindfucky to me? It's not like I can look back at my years in FFXIV like normal memories, so realizing that 10 years have passed in what to me felt like the blink of an eye, and then having to reconcile with my self perception and reality not quite adding up... it just makes it feel so weird? It kinda feels like waking up from a time bubble, where everyone else has lived normally and you have to adapt super fast to keep up with the changes you barely have time to process.

In a strange sense, many of the people I knew and loved at the time feel like fuzzy figures to me. Some of them I cannot even recall the names of, and some I remember nothing except for their names. I know they were real, because I have screenshots of us playing the game together... but it still feels very little like they're my own memories. It's not like amnesia, but I don't know how to describe it.

They're kind of like the Warrior's of Light who vanished during the Calamity as described in ARR. I know these people were there, and I know that they saved me when everything seemed hopeless... and yet when I try to recall their faces, all I see is light behind silouettes. When I try to say their names, they disappear on my tongue.

And it feels so shitty, because why wouldn't I remember people who were super close to me? But that was the nasty thing with being psychotic, I was so caught up with being constantly in terror, and being unable to determine what was real or not, that even the good things aren't more than vague flickers of light amidst the hopeless darkness I was in. I can barely claim to be the same person, because those years stole "me" for lack of a better way of putting it.

I feel like I came out of that situation a completely different person, someone who is ultimately more "real"... but that makes me question whether the people I held dear actually knew me. They knew a broken down person bearing my name, but I don't recognize that person at all. It was practically a stranger behind the wheel veering off the road over and over again and causing more damage to the vehicle itself.

And it sounds so stupid, I know, but FFXIV sincerely was my sole lifeline. It was the only normal thing... and yet it didn't shield me from the repercussions of losing my sense of self, as is evident in hindsight now that I'm out of the abyss that was my abode for years. It's like I fell asleep at 19 and woke up at 24, and suddenly I had to recalibrate the way I viewed myself and the way I no longer felt like I belonged with other people my age. And then another couple years were spent catching up and trying to "age" myself accordingly. All while fighting to rid myself of the paranoia and delusions that still had me in a chokehold.

And here I am now, running around in FFXIV, free from my delusions and my paranoia once and for all... all while still looking for the people that were around me when I had just started playing, and trying to process that the one safe place I had was just as fleeting as everything else in my life after all.

I should have known that, it's an obvious thing when spelling it out like such. But it shows me that despite having come this far, there's still a lot of work for me to do, and a lot of grief to come to terms with about everything I lost. Things that one may take for granted, that can never be reclaimed once it's gone.

[beardedmrbean]

Chrissy Reifschneider had just left rehab to treat her heroin addiction in 2017 when she started taking tianeptine, popularly dubbed “gas station heroin." The 41-year-old from Alabama was struggling with low energy, so a family member who worked at a gas station recommended she try the pills. 

Within days, Reifschneider was hooked, and three dark years cruised by. Now four years clean, Reifschneider reflects on the deception that contributed to her tianeptine addiction and the overwhelming shame that followed. It's a trend that addiction medicine experts say shines a sobering light on the ongoing mental health crisis that's driving people to "easy" solutions amid widespread healthcare accessibility issues in the U.S.

“I thought well, I'm not sticking a needle in my arm, so I literally convinced myself that I wasn’t a drug addict until I realized I didn't recognize who I was anymore,” Reifschneider said. “It's crazy to think that these gas station pills just controlled me. I was ashamed because I'd rather people know I was shooting up heroin than actually spending all this time and money on over-the-counter (drugs).”

Tianeptine is prescribed as an antidepressant in some European, Asian and Latin American countries, but it’s not approved for any medical use in the U.S. Still, companies are marketing and selling tianeptine products as dietary supplements typically in pill and powder form, claiming it can improve brain function and treat depression, anxiety, pain and even opioid use disorder. 

Tianeptine has been banned in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Ohio and Tennessee.

Reifschneider used to take five pills every four hours, which she said gave her enough of a “warm, fuzzy buzz” without making her feel clammy or nauseous, similar to the effects of doing too much heroin, she said. The brand she purchased recommends two capsules daily “or as needed,” and advises against exceeding three capsules in a 24-hour period. 

She started to lose her hair and lots of weight; had auditory hallucinations; developed paranoia surrounding electronics, at times using 10 cellphones at once; and began to convince herself that she was “better off dead.” Reifschneider would even chat with gas station employees about how dangerous the pills were: “I was silently crying out for help.” 

After several unsuccessful stays in rehab, Reifschneider quit “cold turkey” and entered a withdrawal state for the next six months, which she said felt similar to but lasted longer than her withdrawal from heroin and fentanyl. Today, she continues to “feel like a 15-year-old in my brain,” alluding to her debilitating memory problems. “It’s one of my more shameful things,” she said.

Poison control cases involving tianeptine have increased nationwide, from 11 total cases between 2000 and 2013 to 151 cases in 2020, the FDA says. Many poison control calls often involve severe withdrawal symptoms, such as agitation, vomiting and diarrhea, because people typically consume higher doses than those prescribed in other countries, according to a 2018 CDC report.

Dr. Holly Geyer, an internal medicine physician specializing in addiction medicine with the Mayo Clinic, said fear of withdrawal and the depression that follows can contribute to addiction to a variety of substances. 

“These often aren't people who are chasing a high. They're just trying to feel normal, and if there's a drug out there that helps them curb that appetite, they're probably going to take it until it as a solution becomes the problem,” Geyer said. “These people are trapped biologically, mentally and spiritually. It's a horrible situation to be in, and I can tell you tianeptine does not let them out of it.” 

Shame and stigma prevail among addiction recovery circles 

Since Reifschneider joined social media to share her tianeptine experience, neighbors and friends have confided in her with their own struggles with the supplement. “It was a very dark secret we all kept in our recovery circle because it was so shameful,” she said. “We all felt better about ourselves because we weren’t doing the worst of the worst.”

Aaron Weiner, an addiction psychologist, says that mentality is “completely reasonable” considering the stigma and “traditionalism” that still weighs on drug use in general. “There’s a very intense mental health burden in this country right now,” he said.

Tianeptine is marketed as a supplement, but it’s really an opioid receptor agonist. That means it binds to the same receptors in the brain that heroin, fentanyl and other opioids do, causing similar euphoric and addictive effects by hijacking the body’s dopamine system. So when people use tianeptine amid their recovery journey to cope with withdrawal or other lingering effects, judgment frequently follows.

“In a lot of recovery circles, the goal is complete abstinence from all intoxicating substances,” Weiner said. “In this scenario, some people may assume they’re substituting one drug for another, and say they’re not really sober.”

Similar judgment occurs among those taking FDA-approved medications for opioid use disorder (MOUD), including methadone, buprenorphine and naltrexone — some of which are opioids themselves. Mounting evidence shows that they reduce opioid cravings and withdrawal symptoms, and block their euphoric effects, Weiner said, but don’t make people “high” or cause withdrawal when dosed properly. 

Although MOUD use has grown by more than 100% over the last decade, nearly 90% of people living with opioid use disorder are not receiving these medications, according to a 2022 study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy. Experts say stigma is partly to blame. 

“One of the greatest problems we have in this country is that of stigma; we label people, then throw them out with their diagnoses,” Geyer said. “So when many of them turn to MOUD, they experience equal amounts of stigma and are led to think that no one could yell at them or be offended if they use supplements like tianeptine that they think are safer.” 

"It kills me to know this is still out there"

Reifschneider said she visited a doctor who specializes in addiction medicine two times for help to detox from tianeptine, but neither attempt was successful.

“The doctor had no idea what these pills were, but he wanted to help me because he could see my desperation,” Reifschneider said. “I was terrified to come off of them alone, so I didn’t know what to do.” 

She ultimately detoxed herself, but this lack of awareness and access to proper treatment, Geyer said, is what deters people away from evidence-based treatment and attracts them to the illicit market.

Data show that nearly 50% of counties in the U.S., don’t have MOUD medication providers and 32% don’t have any specialty substance abuse treatment programs at all. 

“There's not a whole lot of attention paid to tianeptine because it’s one of many drugs that you could find at gas stations these days that are not technically outlawed but certainly not beneficial,” Geyer said. “The big name drugs out there like fentanyl is where the money has historically been in this industry, so that's where most treatment approaches have focused.”

After years of rehab, Reifschneider said she wants to lay low and just live a normal life, but knowing that tianeptine is still being sold on gas station shelves weighs on her.

“I'm honestly grateful that there's been more awareness, but it kills me to know this is still out there,” she said.

[jettblanche]

[This is my first. Sorry if it is cringe or bad writing! (I say running an rp blog) i have not written much in yrs. ]

[Hypnosis, masturbation, hypnotic gas/aphrodisiacs, amnesia]

There is a large circular building at the center of Phantasma Park. You can see it when you first enter through the front gates. The building has no windows, instead being covered in screens. Playing on the every screen is a black and white spiral with the words "Come Inside!" in a bright red in the center.

You see that there is a line already starting to form at the entrance of the building, and decide to get in line as quickly as possible so that you aren't stuck in a long line later on. You make your way to the building and get in line. As you begin to dread the long wait, the lines begins to move. Large groups of people are being let into the building, and you're out of the line in no time at all.

The building you enter is dark, lit only by a few dim blue lights, but it is bright enough to make your way through. You see people being strapped down to the ride, and are a bit curious when you notice that only one person is seated in each cart. Soon, it is your turn. The safety harness is put on nice and tight, and soon the ride begins to move.

You go through a dark tunnel, so dark that you hardly notice when all of the individual carts diverse and go on different paths. Each cart goes into it's own individual room away from each other. As you enter the next room, you see several large screens come down from the ceiling, surrounding the cart. You hear a sharp hiss as something gets pumped into the air. You breathe it in without thinking. It is mostly scentless, but smells a little sweet, and your head gets fuzzier the more you breathe it in.

The screens surrounding you turn on. Each screen displays a different black and white spiral with bright red text in the center.

Just Sink...

Don't Think...

You are a little confused, and your brain is starting to feel light from whatever is being pumped into the room. Not only that, but it also seems to be making you a little more sensitive than usual. A little... Aroused?

It feels much better to obey...

You feel the safety harness get a little tighter

It feels much better to drop...

But surely, this is all just part of the show.

Feel your thoughts melt away...

So there's nothing to worry about

Just drift...

The gas pumping into the room is making it so difficult to think after all, and it just gets more difficult as time goes on. Your ever-growing arousal doesnt seem to be helping either, making it difficult to focus on your own thoughts even more. And so you stare at the screen, mouth hanging open, letting the gas sweep your mind away.

Soon, you're no longer aware of your surroundings. The only things you're focused on right now are the spirals on the screen and the aching tension between your legs. Just as you're about to beg for release, the safety harness unbuckles, allowing you free movement. Your hands immediately go between your legs, of course, and as soon as you touch your mind goes completely blank.

You don't know how much longer you were in there. It could've been a minute more or an hour more, you don't know. The next thing you know, you're strapped back in and the cart is making it's way to the entrance of the ride. You still feel a little fuzzy, and everyone else exiting the ride seems a bit out of it as well. You exit the building, squinting as you walk out into the bright sun.

Your memory of what actually happened on that ride fade quickly, but you remember that you enjoyed it and want to go on it again soon. However, you start to notice something inside of you that wasn't there before. A mindless, giddy feeling that you cant seem to shake. You feel a strange need to encourage more people to visit the park and to visit often yourself.

You decide to ponder that later. You have a whole day to enjoy the park, so you might as well enjoy yourself. That strange new feeling isn't important right now, perhaps another day. So just forget about it and enjoy your day at the park. For now.

[shdwtouch]

🧤 Name the last need that you Had to take care of before rping!! Anything that made you leave dash, or before turning on the computer, etc.! 🟢 Do You like to tell people when you're online? Why or Why not?

🪪 What's consistent between RP life and not? Anything about you bleed into your writing? 🎀 What's the last nice thing you saw pertaining to rp?

Mun Communication Preferences || accepting !!

Name the last need that you Had to take care of before rping!! Anything that made you leave dash, or before turning on the computer, etc.!

probably anxiety / stress / real life stuff from earlier today. I'm dealing with some financial bullshit that I thought was handled but, alas, insurance companies aren't known for their intelligence or empathy. in general I try to keep my personal stuff off the dash, and I try not to, uh, let bad real life vibes impact the vibes of my blog.

Do You like to tell people when you're online? Why or Why not?

yeah, I usually make a dash / ooc post when I'm awake and around. its an old habit, really. when I first started roleplaying on here status posts were pretty common. but I also know, like, I don't need to and I don't owe anyone an explanation of when or why I am here, or when or why I'm not here. but, idk. I also know some people don't like reaching out when they think someone is "away from computer" so to speak, so I guess I like saying I'm around so people know its okay to reach out.

though, I will say, folks are always allowed to message me, even if I'm not around / online. and just because I am around / online does not guarantee I'm going to respond right then or even be in a place to engage.

What's consistent between RP life and not? Anything about you bleed into your writing?

this is kinda embarrassing but. yeah, not much different between RP life and not, cuz... I don't really have a real life ? like. my real life is comprised of school, family, and therapy. I'm a puffin, I don't do much ! so... what you see is what you get with me.

as for bleeding into my writing... yeah, I would say quite a bit of me bleeds into what I write. both Shade and Kaey were kinda... made in my image ? not intentionally of course, but I did realize they do have some similarities to me. I believe in roleplay as a coping mechanism and way to heal, so yeah I've bled into what I write.

What's the last nice thing you saw pertaining to rp?

this is a difficult question, my memory is shit. so uh, I'll just speak generally to something I see happen that literally always makes me smile and feel happy. and that's when people post negativity on the dash, whether RP related or otherwise, and their mutuals comment on their post to cheer them up. I know I try to do it when I see negativity, but it just. gives me warm and fuzzy feelings when I see others do it, and when people do it with my posts. its just nice seeing people in the rpc support each other and be friend shaped, you know ?

[priestessofpaimon-old]

Abyss Twin's Memories and The Wiping

"Akasha Pulses, the Kalpa Flame Rises" was an amazing quest. It was a great ending to the longest to date Archon Quest (five acts!). With it, a lot of bombshells were revealed. One of these has to do with Iruminsul and the nature of memories in Teyvat.

Essentially, all that happens in Teyvat is collected by the ley-lines and recorded in Iruminsul. But this does come with caveats and certain conditions.

Only people who are originally apart of Teyvat are recorded. This means that there are no records of The Traveler in Iruminsul. People of Teyvat know about them, but in the records of Iruminsul they don't show up.

Another thing is that memories can be wiped. This was shown when Nahida destroyed the memory of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata to save the world tree. If something in Iruminsul is wiped, then the whole of Teyvat is effected. People won't remember and history is literally rewritten.

Only the Descenders, beings that come from other worlds (like The Traveler), aren't affected by this. But for some reason our sibling is recorded. In fact, according to Nahida they are apart of this world.

This brings up some interesting theories, is the life before The Twins came to Teyvat a huge lie? Had The Traveler's own memories been affected? Or is it something else?

Personally, don't think The Traveler's memories have been tapered with. While it would be an interesting idea, (just imagine the drama and angst). If what Nahida says is true about The Traveler not being in Iruminsul's records and them being a Descender, (and that there aren't other things left out) then probably not.

Rather, I think it's the Abyss Twin's memories that were affected.

The Unknown God clearly did something to them when the Twins were trying to leave. Whether it's locking their powers away like the Traveler's or something else. That something was making them apart of Tevyat and in turn being recorded in Iruminsul.

Reasons for this maybe because our Twin may have found something out. Perhaps forbidden knowledge in the similar vein as in "Before Sun and Moon" or maybe a even bigger secret. Since they originally aren't from Teyvat they would still remember it, even if it was wiped from Iruminsul.

Reconsigning the threat this could pose, The Heavenly Principles decided to not only prevent them from leaving but to also make them become apart of Teyvat's history. This way they could rid of what ever they found out, keeping their secrets and as well as keeping tabs on a powerful Descender.

This would explain why Nahida said that our "...sibling suddenly appeared in Khaenri'ah". Because that is when they were entered into Iruminsul. They have been awake for a while before then, possible even living in Khaenri'ah before the Cataclysm.

As for why their records became "fuzzy", I think this has to do with the Abyss. Since the Abyss isn't apart of Teyvat, what ever happens there may not be recorded in Iruminsul. That would also explain why we were able to even find "Before the Sun and Moon", because it wasn't affected by the wiping of history. Remember, it's not only memories that are affected by wiping but physical things as well like books. So if something or someones are in the Abyss during said wiping, they won't be affected.

So our twin, possible from seeing what had happened during the cataclysm, decided to join the abyss against The Divine (that could also be when they had that falling out with Dainsleif).

This may also explain why Celestia haven't moved against the Abyss Order, they may not fully know what's happening down there (although, I suspect they may have other means of keeping track of them).

I assume the reason why the traveler wasn't made a 'citizen' was because they didn't know about it the secret and they may have decided it was best just to put them in a eternally slumber (well try to anyway).

I also believe that even though their memories were wiped, our twin knows they where changed. Either someone told them about the nature of Iruminsul or they realised that they remembered things that Teyvat did not as a by-product of being in the abyss.

That's why they say "...you will see for yourself the true nature of this world". This isn't just a call for action for us to explore Teyvat but it could be because we maybe the only ones who can find out the truth. Because we aren't recorded into Iruminsul like them.

They are asking us to find the truth, and hopefully put a stop to the heavens.

[justathoughtfulangel]

Love Story - A Kai Parker One Shot

*not my gif

Pairing: witch!Reader x siphon!Kai

Character Name: Rosalie Wilson

This IS a reader insert fic; I just don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of names. Use Rosalie/Rose as a placeholder for Y/N and Wilson as L/N :)

Requested?: No

Word Count: 3,269

Song Inspiration: Love Story - Sarah Cothran, sad version

This is a cover of 'Love Story' by Taylor Swift, but it's arranged in a minor key and some of the lyrics have been changed. The version with lyric changes cannot be found on Spotify. It is one of the most hauntingly beautiful things I've ever heard.

This piece is inspired by Romeo and Juliet.

Description: The Parkers and Wilsons had been feuding families in the Gemini Coven for centuries now. The constant battle for Coven leadership harmed them to this day, stealing lives and happiness...

Warnings: Angst/darker emotions, familial violence and abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, and mentions of death

Sections of italicized song lyrics signify scene changes (note: the lyrics aren't necessarily in order). The story begins after the break :)

We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes, and the flashback starts I’m standing there… on a balcony in summer air.

A deep sigh rang out from within Rosalie’s chest. She stood on her balcony, closing her eyes as the cool evening breeze washed across her bare shoulders. As the daughter of the Wilsons, Rose knew she’d have to make her obligatory appearance soon enough, but she hated these stupid parties. They were full of obnoxious, stuffy people who couldn’t be bothered with her.

Being a Gemini witch meant nothing if you weren’t born a twin, no matter how powerful you were. Every year her parents threw these ridiculously lavish parties for her younger brother and sister, counting down until their 22nd birthday.

People were spinning around under the sunset, laughing and dancing in their gowns and tuxedos. “Yay for Sarah and Sam Wilson…” Rose muttered under her breath. It was all a technicality, anyhow.

The Parkers were to keep Coven leadership, but there was something up with their oldest twins – something they kept under wraps. Whatever it was opened the pathway for her younger siblings to merge and take over everything.

Swallowing softly, Rosalie turned around and headed inside. Her burgundy ballgown grazed the wooden floorboards despite the painful golden heels her feet struggled in. Gold detailing around her waist matched the lotus-shaped clip in her hair, keeping it swept away from her face.

The last element was a mask hiding her face, the most important aspect of her façade. It was time to join the party; time to put the mask of the supportive sister on once more.

See the lights, see the party, the ballgowns See you make your way through the crowd and say hello Little did I know…

Malachai couldn’t breathe for another moment in that house, despite all the warm and fuzzy memories associated with it: mom and dad calling him an abomination, annoying little siblings running around, and years upon years of being a pariah. Tonight was the annual birthday bash the Wilsons threw: the perfect distraction.

With so many suits and dresses and masks, it was easy for Kai to slip in unnoticed. His outfit was his camouflage with no flashy cravat and a sleek black mask hiding his face. He got himself a gin and tonic, watching the throngs of people weave between each other.

Minutes passed, and Kai didn’t look away from the crowd. The twins of honor were identifiable enough with their navy blue and silver attire. It seemed all of the Wilsons were in blue and silver. All except one.

Even if she was wearing a façade, Malachai recognized her. They’d met before, of course, at Coven meetings his father would let him attend and crowded high school classrooms. Rosalie wasn’t one for outbursts, but her silent protests were worth applause. A smirk came onto his face, and he made his way through the crowd

Discreetly coming up behind her, Kai leaned in, whispering into her ear. “Quite a colorful show of support for your siblings.” He was rewarded with a little jump of surprise, only making his smirk grow.

Rosalie recognized his voice, but she’d never imagined a Parker would have the guts to come here. The animosity between their families went back generations, and Malachai Parker did not belong here. “Quite the stunt you’re pulling on enemy ground.” Even so, when she turned to look at him, Rose couldn’t help but be intrigued by his bravado.

“What are you doing here?” Rosalie twirled around, facing Kai. He had this unique sparkle in his eyes, something she’d never known him to have. “Well, I’m here to celebrate the birthday of the future Gemini Coven Leader… pre-merge Coven Leader.” 

Wilsons are taught to hate all Parkers. Parkers are taught to hate all Wilsons. However, Malachai and Rose had a shared reality that bred respect between them. Both felt jilted, hurt by the Coven’s demands.

It was comforting to have someone who could understand them, even if the comfort came from fleeting glances or a handful of conversations in between classes. There had been a few flirtations, too, and the attraction finally came bubbling to the surface.

“And to get out of your house, I presume.” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me. Is that what you think of me? I’m just here to congratulate your siblings on getting one year closer to taking the Coven Leadership that was supposed to be mine.” Rose pressed her lips together, muffling a snicker. “Am I wrong though?” Playfully defeated, Kai’s shoulders sank. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“I thought so.” Feeling rather pleased with herself, Rosalie took his drink from his hand and took a sip of it. “Um, that’s mine, drink thief." Despite his complaints, Kai wore a cheeky grin. A bubble seemed to have formed around them.

There was an exchange of smiles, a brush of fingertips as the cool glass changed hands. “Oh, I don’t think you really mind. You’re a gin guy, hmm?” 

Kai drained the last few drops and set the glass on the stone edge of a fountain. “Is there something wrong with that? I think gin gets a bad rap.” Before she could blink, Kai took her hand in his and twirled her into the middle of the dancing crowd. She yelped in surprise yet laughed when his hand rested on her waist, the other interlocking with her fingers. 

“You know the gentlemanly approach would be to ask a woman to dance.” Kai only shook his head, the smile never leaving his face, as he spun her out and pulled her back in. Rosalie’s back pressed against his chest, his heart racing. How had he been so close to her all this time without knowing this heady effect? It was better than the buzz from any alcohol in the world. 

“Lucky for me, I am no gentleman.” Even as he spoke, Kai led her through the dance seamlessly. With the song coming to a crescendo, they were face to face once more. Their bodies were close. Their gaze locked on the other. Suddenly, it seemed there was no one else. 

The party went on, and the music continued to play, but Malachai and Rosalie stood still. Their cheeky banter had subsided. Now, there was only them.

Feeling particularly brave – perhaps because of the gin, or maybe because of the wondrous turn of events – Kai let his instincts take the lead. Without another word, both leaned in to feel the other’s soft kiss.

People danced around them, yet they only held onto each other tighter. So enraptured by each other, the disdain of Rosalie’s father went unnoticed…

I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, ‘cuz we’re dead if they knew So close your eyes… escape this town for a little while

With her bedroom door locked from the inside, Rosalie opened her window with painful slowness. One creak and she’d be caught. She had no real belongings with her, which made maneuvering to the giant oak just a few feet away that much easier. Her heartbeat rang in her chest and drummed into her ear, serving as a ticking clock; each second brought her closer to Malachai.

With about as much stealth as a golden retriever, Rosalie somehow made it to the ground safely. The hard part was over. Now, she trekked to somewhere only they knew: the meadow. It was almost a sacred place, untarnished by warring families or harsh Coven rules.

Malachai was waiting for her. He gathered up some smooth pebbles from the ground, chucking them at the trunk of a tree. The moon was high up in the sky, and within just three days, it would reach its zenith.

Kai stared upwards, an unknown expression of peace on his face. He’d never known contentment, especially not within his own home, but he was adamant. Kai would no longer yield to his family or the ties binding him to the Gemini Coven. The only tie he wanted was the one that connected to her.

His daze made Kai all the more vulnerable to a sneak attack. Swallowing her giggle, Rosalie jumped forward. The surprise knocked them both to the ground, earning a groan from Kai. “Well, hello to you too.” Turning over to face her, Kai felt his heartbeat grow stronger when he gazed upon her smile. “I’m happy to see you.”

They lay side by side in the field of flowers, talking about everything and nothing. Their fingers were linked together, their bodies entangling for warmth. They’d found their other half, and the worries of the world no longer mattered.

 The night wore on, and the serenity of the meadow served as a sanctuary. It was a place they were safe and alone and happy and cherished… What else does one need?

You were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles And my Daddy said, stay away from Juliet I was crying on the staircase, begging you please don't go.

Weeks went by, and their secret romance continued. There was joy in their eyes, a spring in their step. Both were hopelessly and irretrievably in love with each other just as it should be. Of course, the world doesn’t care to let such happiness last for long.

In the early hours of morning, when Malachai came with Rosalie to bring her home, the porch lights turned on. The lighthearted feelings from just a moment ago vanished.

Rosalie’s father stepped out of the house, his arms crossed and his eyes hateful. Rose attempted to move away from him and go to her father before something went wrong, but her feet were frozen. With a strong, defiant arm around her, Kai didn’t dare let her go.

“Malachai Parker, has Joshua not taught you well enough to not trespass?” The corner of Kai’s lip twitched, unsure whether to frown or laugh.

“My dad doesn’t really care about me, and it’s not trespassing if I was invited.” Rosalie bit the inside of her cheek, already anticipating the storm this would create.

“I suggest you let go of her and leave before I make you.” He advanced forward, the threat transparent. Malachai was not unhinged; his hold on Rose only tightened. Rosalie bit the inside of her cheek, finding the strength to wrench herself from Kai’s grip and step in front of him to protect him.

The sound of her dad’s jaw snapping shut echoed into the fearfully quiet night. Without another word, a harsh hand encased Rosalie’s forearm, tugging her inside. Before Kai could move or even let a sound escape, they’d disappeared. He heard the door slam shut, and then everything was still again.

Behind the silent walls of the house, Rosalie’s father tossed her into her bedroom. Slamming into the ground with the force of his push, her head scraped against the floor. Warm droplets of blood seeped into her hairline, trailing down her cheek and falling to the floor. Her room was sealed with magic, and there was no way out.

Malachai stood in the dark driveway in front of Rosalie’s home for nearly an hour, wracked with a dilemma. Kai could tear down her front door and take her away with him, away from all of the Coven and their families, or he could walk away.

It wasn’t much of a choice. He couldn’t do anything right now, not without risking their safety. Silently, he promised to come back – knowing it was a promise he’d kill to keep.

‘Romeo, save me, they’re trying to tell me how to feel. ‘This love is difficult, but it’s real. ‘Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess. ‘It’s a love story, baby just say yes…’

Malachai stared at the blank ceiling. His bedroom fan spun around once… twice… thrice… Time didn’t make much sense. He wasn’t sure if he’d been in his room for days or weeks. He hadn’t seen or heard from Rosalie in just as long. Joshua Parker heard of Kai’s actions through Josette, and his rage rivaled that of Rose’s father.

It was a miracle the Gemini Coven was still alive today. With the Parkers and Wilsons at each other’s throats, how this Coven hadn’t imploded was a mystery. It was ridiculous. No one knew why they hated each other, the feud going too far back to remember. How did the two of them falling in love hurt anyone? If anything, it had the power to fix this wretched fight.

He was under house arrest, hence the staring contest with his fan. The only one who could pass through his door was Josette – some twin loophole in Dad’s sealing spell – to bring him food. She knew nothing about how Rosalie was faring, just that she was also caged like him. They had no way of communicating, no way of knowing how the other was. It was more painful than the solitude.

His door burst open then, rebounding off the wall. Joshua Parker came in and uttered a few terse words. “You and Josette will complete the merging ceremony tomorrow. Afterward, when you have the knowledge given only to the leaders of the Coven, you’ll understand exactly why we stay separated.” Giving him no time to ask questions, Kai’s father left as soon as he came.

An unsettling feeling made its home in his stomach. Malachai knew his father and how much he despised him. He wouldn’t just hand Kai the Coven leadership, even if they’d planned to steal it from the Wilsons all along. Something was horribly wrong.

I got tired of waiting… Wondering if you were ever coming around. My faith in you was fading… When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said ‘Romeo, save me. I’ve been feeling so alone. ‘I keep waiting for you, but you never came.’

Seventeen miles away, Rosalie hugged her knees to her chest. Her whole being was empty, devoid of thought or feeling – devoid of hope. She’d lost faith in everyone and everything. The door opened, and the magical seal was removed. Her father stepped inside, not moving any closer.

Rose didn’t acknowledge his presence. His sigh rang throughout the room, the only sound to bounce from the walls in hours. “Rosalie, Kai is gone.” She blinked a few times, not registering what he was saying. Gone? What do you mean by gone?

"It's done. Malachai is gone. He is dead."

If she’d felt numb before, it was nothing compared to what happened then. Her senses gave way: she could no longer see anything but darkness or hear anything but faint ringing.

Rose sat this way, frozen as a corpse. Her father had long since left when the first sob escaped her lips. The first turned into many, the numbness turning into agonizing pain. Suddenly, she’d do anything to have the emotionlessness back. 

Rosalie’s hand clasped her throat, her windpipe not letting any air in. “Oh, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” Gasping for oxygen and trying to survive the sheer anguish, her body trembled with uncontrollable sobs. 

“I can’t – I won’t – I can’t…” Her grief-filled refrain chanted on and on. She couldn’t survive this. She wasn���t going to try.

~ Earlier that night ~

Kai’s father led him to a clearing, not too far from their special meadow. Other Coven members filtered in, forming a circle around him and Josette. They joined hands, and Josette smiled at him encouragingly. He wasn’t convinced. They weren’t saying anything, and no one began the merging ritual. 

“Why aren’t they saying anything?” Malachai’s question was an unanswered whisper in the night. Joshua Parker saw the confusion on his son’s face. He would’ve laughed had the situation not been so dire.

His father took something out of his pocket, and Kai flinched out of instinct when he came closer. It looked like a clock of sorts, with many different mechanical pieces moving together. “You asked why Parkers are taught to hate Wilsons? It’s because of someone like you.” 

The Coven members took a step inwards, shrinking the circle. Josette slinked back into the darkness until it was just him and his father. “What? I don’t…”

“A daughter and son, twins of soul and heart, come to life in winter and spring. Should these flames unite, the Coven burns with them.” Joshua spoke the prophecy known to all Coven Elders. “We have long known a daughter and son of our families could destroy everything. Our ancestors made the decision long ago to foster hatred between themselves, hoping it would be enough to stop the prophecy from coming true.

“You and Rosalie are the ones the prophecy speaks of, and we cannot allow you to be together.” Kai saw his father’s eyes soften then. It was the first sign of any genuine affection from him in years.

“I’m sorry, my son. But the Coven always comes first.” The chant began then, and the remorse vanished from Joshua’s eyes.

A scream wrenched itself out of Malachai’s chest. His father aimed the Ascendant at him under the light of the full moon, and it began to unravel, the metal clicking. His head throbbed, feeling like his brain was being seared. The Gemini Coven stood around silently, watching the show. The sky above tore in two, opening a dimension to a new realm. The last thing he saw before Kai was taken away was Rosalie’s father standing in the crowd… 

My dad said, ‘It’s done, you won’t bother me. ‘Your soul’s in the sky.’ I fall to your feet. They said, ‘Romeo’s gone now. Get up and go live your life. ‘Find a man, forget about him, you’ll be fine.’

The meadow felt strange. Surreal, as if someone had plucked it from a dream. Rosalie wasn’t even certain she was there. Kai was at the edge, hidden behind a few trees, but she could see him. Her mouth opened to call out to him, but no sound came out. It felt like she had just blinked, but he was now in front of her.

Something in his expression made Rosalie fearful. This no longer felt like a dream; it felt like a nightmare. “Kai…”

Malachai glared at her, his eyes filled with a loathing she'd never seen in him. He wasn’t truly there, of course. This was just some image her mind conjured up in her last moments… strange that it wasn’t a happy one. She’d never gotten the chance to tell him that she loved him.

Even in death, happy endings are awarded to a fair few.

I can’t go without you, it’s agonizing. If you’re not here, then I’m so done with trying…

Eighteen years later, Kai Parker stood in front of a grave. Everyone had hated him, tossed him in a prison of time. He still looked the same as he did all those years ago when he stood in the meadow with her. All Malachai could do now was sink to the ground and trace his fingers over the etching on her headstone.

Rosalie Wilson Beloved Daughter and Cherished Friend December 22, 1972 - May 11, 1994

The handle of a blade turned over in his other hand. Kai saw his reflection in the shining silver metal. A look of hurt and peace gleamed back from his eyes as a lone teardrop fell onto the weapon. He was out of the Prison World now, which meant he could escape the cell of his existence. 

Without much more aplomb, Kai thrust the knife into his heart.

~~~

This concludes my Malachai Parker Romeo-and-Juliet-inspired One Shot!

Romeo and Juliet is a tough act to follow, and I was grappling back and forth between originality versus inspiration. I hope I managed to do the story some justice.

Thank you so much for reading :) I welcome your thoughts, comments, constructive criticisms, or anything under the sun!

I've had this piece planned for months, but life didn't give me the chance or energy to write it. Nevertheless, I'm happy I was able to get it out of my head and typed out of my fingers now :)

If you enjoyed this piece, check out more of my Kai Parker stories from my Malachai Parker Masterlist. If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a message or comment on this post.

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel &lt;3

Master Taglist: @socio-kai-path1972, @bluelicious, @prettybitchfatwitch, @genevivetaylor, @kolsangel, @phasmatos-incendia

[1aim2kill3]

i’m sat🧘🏻‍♀️(— this is @/nathanielhsewell btw)

okay okay listen i'm cooking. havent touched the books since #3 released BUT i went thru the bobby stories a Lot so i think i remember a decent chunk. now because i am tooootally unbiased i pretty much never touched the negative-bobby-relationship track but i've read about it and seen screenshots from others so i think i have a pretty good idea. ANYWAY. ahem. thank you for attending my ted talk let's begin:

Bobby has two(out of three) routes where they for sure aren't following the detective around for some kind of vindictive or personal reason. The strangers route (the one i often shoot for in my personal playthroughs) i feel shows the most about Bobby's character in line with the rare snippets we recieve from seraphinite. Reasons for this are as follows: their personal relationships are. Bad. their sister hates them, as do their parents (which makes me suspect an early golden child/loser dynamic but that's not confirmed so i won't be digging into that). If you were exes (or even friends) they betrayed your trust or used your love for them to manipulate you and get something not-romance, not-sex related out of you. ie: your essay, or your connections, or a million other things.

Bobby is no different now—they mention having sex eith others exclusively for profit, complain about how unfulfilling it is, and barely try. Kissing you seems performative, and they clearly don't enjoy it for what it is, but rather what it means: getting their hands on your secrets.

In fact, as a journalist, bobby is a *workaholic*. wayhaven is said repeatedly to be a small town where nothing ever happens—everyone knows each other, and there isn't a lot of need for newspapers because. duh. human oral communication. The detective (i believe, but i might be misremembering which character) gripes about "the most interesting thing happening" being a dog peeing on someone's flowers.

Bobby is *starved* for content. A bit like a rabid dog who just goes fuckin crazy at the scent of meat. no fuckin wonder they're following you around like a creep! And then when it all comes to a head at your apartment, they see an in—you keep a lot of secrets, but 'everyone likes sex', right?? so they push past your comfort, searching for an in. and they would have found it (in some runs) if you hadn't caught them in the bathroom on the phone.

After this, Bobby (non ex routes) doesn't seem to miss the sexual encounter and mostly feels shitty about losing their chance to get info straight out of the detective's mouth. ex bobby i believe tries to call back to previous sexual encounters, to which the detective shoots them down by saying it was for (their essay?) (my memory's a little fuzzy because this is all remembered from screenshots)

ANYWAY. putting this all together leaves me with the following facts: bobby sucks at sex. bobby is not particularly interested in sex for the sexual aspect. bobby historically uses sex as a tool to get what they want (which is almost never sex itself). bobby has weird assumptions about other people and what they want from sex.

conclusion: bobby finds no pleasure in sex acts and doesn't fully understand how other people experience it. conclusion: i headcanon bobby as an asexual.

keep in mind that most of the above applies to friend and stranger routes because i haven't dipped my toes into exes and i don't know how the dialogue changes there.

[the80srewinders]

Dissociation does not always have to look like "Oh wow, I forgot my name and family! I forgot most of my past! I don't know if the world is real! I am literally watching myself from the other corner of this room!" Same for switches. They don't always have to look like "I'm getting sleepy!" Then staring off until the alter fronts but it looks like you suddenly wake up and act like you're hungover, then say "I don't know where I am or how I got here! I dont know anyone here! I don't look like myself! *dramatically wears wig host wasn't wearing*" then thinking you woke up in a place you have no idea how you got there and dont remember how you wore the wig. Instead, dissociation, including switches, more commonly includes:

For depersonalization- feeling like youre watching your body as if you were right next to it, coming out of it, or stuck inside like your body is a car whether or not you're in control, a feeling of "I'm doing these things but why? " which is vast and can mean anything from passive influence making you do things you have little to no control over to "going through the motions"

For derealization- feeling like certain people or objects aren't real, feeling like the world in general or people or objects might not be real (not feeling like they aren't, but being unsure if they are or not) feeling like the world is a dream or your awareness feeling dreamlike

Identity confusion- having two vastly different opinions on the same thing (bonus if one of those opinions don't feel like they're really yours) having a specific set of "phases" that can be randomly brought out and suddenly thats who you are until another one of those phases is brought out (for example, having three phases you cycle through, the other two feeling distant, out of your comfort zone and unlike you until youre in one of them again, one phase being a emo, the other a basic vsco girl, and the other a masc goth, and while youre in the masc goth phase it might not feel like you, this is what i as host experienced years before i knew about DID) the phases making you unsure about your identity especially when youre torn between most or all of them at the same time, and when you dont know what you like because you remotely like so much and you dont know when something clicks with "the real you"

For Identity alteration- hearing the alters voices as random noise, intrusive thoughts or hearing them tell you what to do, feeling like you look like different people at different times, feeling like your memories or some of them belong to someone else

And last, for switching- because someone needs to say this. Its the most glamorized part of DID and misrepresented in that glorification. Here's what switches really are like- feeling tired and having a headache, then feeling like your awareness never stopped, but realizing you don't remember what happened in a period of time right before that, or remembering part of what happened but not clearly, this is called greyout amnesia and this is more common than blackout amnesia, your memories of a greyout will be fuzzy, probably feel dreamlike or like it happened to someone else. when there is blackout amnesia you probably wont notice for days, weeks, months to years and that's normal, most people with amnesia of childhood trauma even singlets dont notice or think the amnesia is typical childhood memory loss.

Dissociation does not have to be dramatic to be valid. And dissociation can be episodic in people with DID, it doesn't have to be an everyday thing of mixed dissociation to the max. You can go a day without depersonalization, derealization, and amnesic switches and still have DID. The stereotypes made by The Three Faces of Eve and systemscringe are not based in reality. Don't make yourself live up to that or invalidate yourself over a stereotype different from the diagnostic criteria.

[polyhexian]

I'm so used to like. Knowing everything. Any time a doctor tells me I have something im like oh yeah I've done my reading. I know what that is so I can now hold a discussion about it.

This is like... So much different. I've never felt this kind of listless... Floaty... Uncertainty. I've probably been having seizures for twenty years...? And no one noticed. I didn't notice. And hindsight is twenty twenty but now I see so many different times someone should have caught it... And it's not like ADHD where there's shared experiences everyone has I can relate to. Epilepsy causes all kinds of different seizures that look totally different, and everyone has different frequencies and triggers and parts of their brain it affects, and how badly, and how much damage they have... I keep just thinking... What stuff is actually the epilepsy? What's ADHD? What's depression? What's just my personality being weird? I don't know what comes from what. It really explains the very strange way Adderall affected me

When I was younger my mom said I had an "atypical body chemistry" because medication affected me so oddly sometimes... So like. I took Adderall the first time. And if you don't have ADHD and you take Adderall you get fucked up. So you basically know if you have ADHD the first time you take Adderall. Because it fixes you brain a bunch. But when I took it... Nothing really... Happened. I didn't get weird or high. I could feel it working, I could. I think my focus might have been a little better? But my memory was just as bad. I was driving home from a funeral and I remember thinking wow, I am actually like. Paying attention to the road the entire time. Usually when I drive I fall into autopilot a lot. I feel like I'm just doing it without thinking, I'm so used to it. Or I'm not really paying attention, I zone out. But on the Adderall I felt like wow, yeah, I'm not zoning out. That's neat. But it didn't fix my memory or executive function... I still couldn't start things... I couldn't make myself do stuff... It feels like I'm fighting a current to do anything and other people say it makes the current stop but it didn't. And my memory was still fuzzy and dark and it was still hard to remember words all the time. It was... Really strange... That Adderall would do almost nothing. That it didn't make things better but it also didn't make them worse. And that really freaked me out because I didn't know what to even tell my psychiatrist... I'd never heard of that happening and I was so scared he would think I was lying, maybe about all my other symptoms and tell me I didn't have ADHD after all, or something. And now it's like. Well the part of your brain that manages executive functioning and memory doesn't work. Its damaged. Parts of it aren't alive anymore. They're dark and dead and don't work. So even with Adderall, they're still not going to work

And like. I've felt like I was getting worse. But I always thought it was my fault. I was just getting worse like... I was getting lazy, I wasn't paying attention as much as I used to, my memory was never good but it was getting worse... And things were getting harder for me to do... But they probably were. Parts of my brain were dying. But I don't even know how bad it is. How much isn't working? Am I projecting? Maybe it's only a little damaged and I'm seeing what I want to see, what will justify my personality flaws in a way I can brush off as not my fault.

I don't know. It feels really weird. I'm uncomfortable. I want to just like. Read through other people's social media rambles grumbling about their day to day stuff, but I can't really do that. And then apparently bilateral is really uncommon. Most people have this kind of epilepsy in one side or the other but I have it in both. And everyone I've seen talk about their experiences only has it in one side.

And this kind of epilepsy... Is caused by something. You're not born with it. Something had to happen. A head injury or a serious fever. I don't remember anything happening in that time frame... What could it have been? What happened? I don't know.

[pricescigar]

Elvira Wolff HC's

"Adapting to her new life in the late 2010's and 2020's."

When Elvira woke up from her cyrogeneic state:

Her memory felt fuzzy, overall feeling dazed and confused. She heard many voices and people rushing around, gunfire, that was Task Force rescuing Elvira.

They managed to rescue the legendary Cold War hero, right before the Russians managed to get her.

According to Laswell, the CIA almost had forgotten she remained in a old abandoned base in the mountains, long forgotten.

Elvira remembered the various pains and aches in her body when she was finally coherent, and the fact she was in a unfamiliar place...

Captain Price was by her side, and had been since she was taken into the room after many Doctors tested on her.

Elvira was finally able to fully open her eyes after they had sedated her, due to her fidgeting too much.

"Mornin' love, did you sleep well?" Was the first words Price said to her

How she dealt with Technology:

Of course Elvira heard of phones, she wasn't stupid, but to see them so small... How? How was it even possible?

Elvira was a great decoder, one of the best. And she is still good at technology, well of her time.

Task Force gifted her a phone to let her used to everything at first, a small Samsung phone nothing special.

Elvira absolutely hates the notication sounds, so at all times it's on vibration or silent.

Elvira sees texting as using a typewriter, without having to constantly change the pages though.

Although... Elvira still doesn't understand what Memes means. Nor the contexts of it.

Making new friends and enemies (Elvira's relationships with them) :

Task Force:

Captain Jonathan Price

Elvira is close with Price, very close. From coworkers to lovers. Though they kept their relationship a secret – It wasn't long till the others found out.

They kept it amongst to themselves, and despite the few teasing jokes here and there. They were happy for them!

Whenever Price and Elvira aren't serving in the army, they spend most of their time with each other. Their company means everything to them.

Price also got her a bear when she was in the hospital to cheer her up, and she named it: "John."

Makes you wonder where she got inspiration from~

Johnny "Soap" McTavish

The ultimate duo, there's no doubt in that. The chaotic duo impact.

Both Elvira and Soap love to play card games, it's one of their favourite actives to do when passing by the time.

And also drawing, showing each other their sketchbooks, little doodles and give each other advice.

Overall Elvira thinks Soap is a good friend, and individual overall and was happy to have met him.

(Also they love to get drunk together)

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Although Ghost is quite introverted, Elvira doesn't mind too much as she's an introvert herself.

Even if both of them sit together and don't say anything, that was enough— both of team were still spending time together.

Ghost & Elvira have common interests, and for hours they could talk about almost anything!

He was the one who introduced her most of the new movies that had been out (Year by year of course)

Thanks to Ghost, Elvira is a big movie fanatic.

Gaz Kyle Garrick

Elvira liked to hear Gaz's experience in the Police force before Price took him in, and then became part of Task Force.

She loves how intelligent he is, even herself learning facts she had never heard of herself— He likes history as much as she does.

Gaz tells terrible jokes to the team, but the terrible kind that you can't help but laugh at them.

Elvira got a leaf out of his book and told a few jokes herself, Gaz and Elvira are the jokers of Task Foce, and their downright terrible jokes.

Farah Karim

Elvira admires Farah, how strong and courageous she is. And always trying to do the right thing, and she respected that.

When problems increased with her brother Hadir, Elvira struggled to relate to the fact that she never had a sibling, but respected Farah when she name the right choice to get her brother areesred .

Despite all that Elvira would always gladly fight her side, no matter what cost. And would always do it, even forever.

Sadly it disappointed Elvira she couldn't take part in getting Laswell back. But Farah sent her regards for Elvira.

Los Vaqueros:

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

The two became good friends quickly, despite Alejandro being a little flirtatious. He quickly realised that Elvira had a husband.

Of course finding out it was Captain Price himself, it would be best not to mess with the Captain. And of course Price always got a little jealous when other men flirted with Elvira.

Luckily he wasn't there for that little hiccup, but the problem was quickly dismissed. As if nothing had ever happened.

Elvira understood Alejandro's determination to get rid of the cartels, and made sure herself it would happen. For his sake, and for Las Almas.

During their time in Prision, both of them got interrogated for the location of The Task Force (Elvira refused to tell of course)

Resulting both of them getting hurt, but in their little Cell they told each other a good few stories, until Rodolfo, Ghost and Soap came.

When it was time for Task Froce to depart, Elvira said her goodbyes, it may have been short. But Elvira favoured the colonel for his bravery.

Sergeant Rodolfo

Elvira is in debt to Rodolfo, thanks to him teaming up with Ghost and Soap saving her life. When whenever Elvira is in debt to you, call yourself lucky.

Hell even Rodolfo was surpsied himself when Elvira pointed out that she was in debt to him, he couldn't believe it.

Sadly with fate at hand and the Task Force immediately having to go to Chicago to stop Hassan, Elvira still appreciated Rodolfo's help.

Overall, Elvira enjoyed her time with Los Vaqueros, and how energetic they were.

They even called her "La loba." (The Wolf)

Elvira took that name with Pride for once.

The C.I.A:

Kate Laswell

They make Smoke breaks a common thing, just having a quick smoke and to catch up on things.

Elvira has affiliations still with the CIA, and csn visit pretty much whenever she wants, and mainly to see Woods whenever she's in America.

Elvira always gifts her a pack of cigarettes whenever she sees Laswell, until she was told that she needed to stop smoking.

But sometimes Laswell would still join Elvira on a smoke break, when she's stressed of course.

Echo 3-1 "Alex"

Elvira doesn't know him too well, but she respects him and appreciates the work he had done back in Urzikstan, along with helping Farah.

After seeing him some time later after he recovered and his leg amputated, they became good friends and colleagues. Though due to him being put into knew place to another, it was difficult to actually catch up .

Elvira got his phone number and still to this day regularly checks up on him to see of he's ok and well.

Alex of course returns the favour ans visits Task Force once in a while, whenever he had the time to do so.

Shepherd & Shadow Company:

General Shepherd

Another old man, and Elvira never really trusted him as well. Due to him being a general, she kept her tongue on a tight lead.

Shepherd admires Elvira for her work, well due to her being the cold war Hero of course.

He was a busy man, so Elvira didn't get so see him much, thank god. Due to him being at the Pentagon.

When Shepherd betrayed the Task Force, Elvira half and half was and wasn't expecting it.

She was right in the fact that he only cared for himself.

Commander Phillp Graves

Elvira never liked Graves from the first moment she had met him, and always made that clear.

She found him: Overbearing, selfish, self-centred. And he also reminded her a little bit too much of somekne

Her hatred grew when Elvira got captured and got taken to prison, which wasn't a good experience.

But hearing the news that Graves had been killed in the Tank explosion, all she said was:

"Good riddance."

[disasterghaster-moved]

3 5 7

q’s for muses who had a…  r o u g h   childhood 

3. what triggers does your muse have from their childhood?

I've mentioned before that Dekronian society has a 'native' and 'non-native' distinction that affects sociological class divides. It's not as concrete as our world's modern distinction between 'white' and 'non-white'. Particularly if the individual is wholly native or wholly non-native. Those groups are just seen as different, but easily integrate provided traditionally positions of authority aren't infringed on by any non-native that has not be fully generationally integrated.

This explanation to say that for some fucking reason native dekronians (and some particularly conservative non-natives) view intermixed proginay as something awful or unnatural. There's a sentiment that the streams shouldn't cross. Particularly if the non-native side of things hasn't had that generational integration.

And all that ONLY applies if you have the backing of those that are in power or care about you as offspring. Alanna gets away with being mixed with a very new non-native population only because of her mother and the authority and power behind the native half of her family. She still has to prove herself frequently to those that disapprove.

And Devang, who became and war orphan and then a slave, was just considered an undesirable. Lacking those 'protections'. So if you call her something derogatory like 'mutt' or 'mongrel'--it's triggering. Even after all this time, it inspires a certain sort of feral and visceral reaction. Because she was treated even worse that most others around her in an already shitty situation. It was often thrown at her even when she was finally a free-person in the military. It's a flash point word.

Thankfully, most people on Terran Earth don't have this same way of treating people. And when she tells people her background enough to explain her mixed heritage--no one really cares. Hell, half of them seem to just boil her down to, inaccurately, a weird cat space person. Which suits her fine.

In some ways, not being called derogatory things about her heritage on a regular basis has probably made her more sensitive to it than before. Because it's more of a shock. No longer having to brace against it.

She also doesn't wear chokers or bracelets as such items would likely remind her of her time enslaved. Oddly, though, she sometimes ponders wearing a muzzle for comfort???

Possibly, if someone forcefully cut her hair she might have a triggered event of some sort, but none has ever tried. She's always had control of her hair since she was a free-person.

Most other things about her childhood are long faded and replaced with more recent traumas from her young adulthood to present. Time doesn't heal, but it does make for a fuzzy memory and mind.

5. has your muse ever been officially diagnosed with ptsd, c-ptsd?

She has. She had seen all of two seperate psychologists for short periods of time. Though at least one of them was out to harm her, they both offered insights that were accurate to avoid suspicions.

She absolutely has Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and has Schizoaffective Disorder. Before that point she had been aware something was wrong with her, but never had the words for it.

7. how old was your muse when they realized they had childhood trauma?

About Roka's age, honestly. Or a little after. You would think she'd realize it as it was happening, but she'd shut down in a lot of ways until well after she was a free-person AND AWOL from the military.

She knew she wasn't alright and that she'd been through a LOT of adversity up to that point, but she didn't start looking at it (rather than just blurting out to other people) until she got enough roots to sit down and think about it. And when she did, she didn't know what to do with it. So she coped very poorly--much similar to Roka.

She understands it a lot better now. Not because of the therapists, but because she has looked into books and such in her own time. Google searches and things.

Everything mostly sits there in boxes she's made for it mentally. But she doesn't have the skills or the real know how to do more than that. Or more than how to manage it better than if she didn't read books and articles. It's a flawed situation for her.

But it's also hard to find a psych doc or therapist that she can both trust and can capably handle nearly 10k years of extreme fuckery both from my backstories of her and the 20ish years of RP events, lmao.

[azrielbrainrot]

All Over My Skin

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader x Rhysand

Description: You find yourself in an empty room between the High Lord and the Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Smut, Threesome, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Oral, Cum Eating, Orgasm denial (a bit, kind of)

Word Count: 10,620

Rating: 18+

Nothing could have prepared you for the way this evening would unfold when you left your house, something like this only seemed possible in your dreams. The events that led up to this moment were getting hazier with every stroke of the Shadowsinger's tongue against yours, strong hands holding onto your waist and hips, pulling you impossibly closer, until you could feel his own heart beating against yours.

You almost didn't even show up, seriously considering coming up with an excuse to politely decline the High Lord's invitation so you could stay in, curled under your fuzzy blanket, reading a book while the rain fell outside. These types of parties aren't exactly your cup of tea, and the ones you actually get invited to are few and far in between. In fact, you were still not entirely sure why you had been invited tonight in the first place.

A simple scribe sent in from a different court to aid some of the Night Court's libraries couldn't be too important. Your work wasn't even in the Hewn City, but in the surrounding, smaller towns - strangely enough the name of the city where you've spent the last few days, before returning to the Court of Nightmares seems to be evading your mind, you usually have an excellent memory, must be the wine.

You certainly weren't as important as the other guests present, and some of the court's denizens seemed to agree with the fact, not trying to hide their distaste for your presence here. None of the other scribes or librarians had been invited, leaving you by yourself, sitting by a quieter corner of the big, ostentatious ballroom, missing your friends back in the Winter Court.

It was in that exact corner that Azriel had found you, watching the crowd mingle while nursing a glass of champagne, deciding to be a good host and keep you company. This much hadn't come as a surprise, it was obvious the Spymaster didn't enjoy big gatherings such as these, but as polite as he always had been with you, you had never expected him to come talk to you outside of work. From the few glances his way, you could tell he wasn't exactly adored in the Court of Nightmares either, though the fear was a lot more pronounced in everyone's eyes than whatever judgment they held for the shadowsinger.

With him by your side, the boring party had quickly turned into the best time you've had in years, as you laughed along with him and tried not to blush too much at his captivating words and the undivided attention he was showing you, at the bright, boyish grins he was sharing with you.

As the hours passed and the party dwindled, some people started to leave while others started gathering in smaller groups around the room, drunkenly telling each other stories and laughing together. Your intention had been to leave when you noticed how late it had gotten and how few people remained in the ballroom, seeing as your accommodations were outside the Hewn City, usually convenient since it made it easier for you to travel wherever you needed to go.

When you made your wishes known to Azriel, he immediately offered to accompany you, but then one thing led to another, and you ended up in a vacant office instead, sitting on top of the dark mahogany desk with him standing between your legs, kissing and touching each other like your lives depended on it.

To say you hadn't imagined this exact scenario a million times before would have been a boldfaced lie. The spymaster had taken hold of your mind ever since the first time you laid your eyes on him, and really who could blame you? This male was impossibly captivating, his beauty only heightened by his mysterious demeanor and polite disposition, by his imposing frame and the tall wings draped behind his back, the slightly curly, dark hair giving him a boyish look as it fell over his forehead. And his shadows, swirling around his body, whispering every dirty little secret they can find in his ear.

It's no secret the Night Court's Inner Circle are some of the most beautiful fae anyone has ever seen, especially the High Lord with his ethereal purple eyes and silver tongue, so when you were sent to aid the recently crowned Lord of Night as a show of allyship from your home court, you had been more than excited. What you couldn't have predicted was for any of these otherworldly fae to notice you at all, but as Azriel's scent deepens with arousal, a groan escaping him as you tug on his soft curls, you realize you might have been selling yourself short.

The delicious sound sends pleasure coursing through your veins. You let your hands wander down to his shoulders, wanting to take his jacket off so you could feel his skin on yours, but not knowing how to do it without disturbing his wings. Ilyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you don't want to do anything that he wasn't comfortable with.

Azriel must have noticed your hesitation as he pulls back, “Is something wrong?” It takes you a moment to focus on his face, a shiver running down your spine at the hunger you find etched into his beautiful features.

“It's nothing,” the words coming out breathy, prompting you to swallow before continuing, “I wanted to take off your jacket but I'm not sure how…” He lets out an amused breath, a smile taking over his face as he leans down for a quick kiss before pulling away from you slightly, hands reaching out behind him to unbutton his jacket.

Both his jacket and shirt are pulled over his head in a matter of seconds, and your hands move to hold his waist, not being able to stop yourself from staring at the view. Fingers come up to trace the bargain marks swirling over his chest and shoulders, traveling down his arms, as he throws the clothes to the floor, taking a good look at your blushing face before grabbing your neck firmly and using his grip to pull you in for another passionate kiss.

Sadly, his hand doesn't linger around your throat, choosing to hold onto your thighs instead as he pulls you against him once more, wrapping your legs around him, fusing your bodies together. You feel him shuddering softly when your rake your nails over his scalp, but there's no time to revel in it before his hands start traveling up past your hips, taking your dress with them until he could easily reach your panties, tucking his fingers under the lace on either side, the rough skin sending goosebumps swimming across your body.

He pulls his mouth away from yours, resulting in an otherwise embarrassing whine to escape you. Any other noise of protest is silenced as he starts pressing messy, wet kisses down your neck, strong hand holding your jaw and maneuvering your head however he wants you. The marks he was leaving behind were probably going to give you trouble tomorrow, but in this moment you couldn't care less.

You let him have his fun for a while, breathy moans leaving your lips as he took turns nibbling and sucking on your skin, canine teeth teasing the side of your neck, tongue soothing the deeper bites, the ones that would still be etched into your skin come morning. But at some point you start missing his taste, impatience moving you to tug on his hair to get his attention, and judging by the smirk you feel pressed against your feverish skin, it has the intended effect.

Azriel leaves one more kiss on the column of your throat before giving in to your silent demand, coming up to press your lips together again, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck to keep him in place, moaning at your eagerness.

The feeling of him against you was mind numbing, you didn't know if you wanted to keep kissing him forever, or if you should give him the same treatment he gave you, and start running your mouth over every bit of deliciously looking exposed skin. You run your hand down his torso at the thought, deciding that you need something else entirely when your fingers move past the muscles he's worked so hard for, the scars he'd survived from, to follow a path of hair leading down to his waistband.

At this your intentions become clear and the kiss intensifies, getting messier as Azriel explores every corner of your mouth, your hands fumbling to unbutton his pants and his following suit, fingers easily finding the small zipper keeping your dress in place, ready to take it off.

“What do we have here?”

An amused voice startles you, a familiar surge of power filtering into the room, making you tense and push away from Azriel, trying to get away from him in an effort to make yourself look as presentable as you could. However, Azriel doesn't move or allow you to, keeping you in place as his shadows move to cover the both of you - you hadn't even noticed they were scattered around the room and not on his person as they usually prefered to be.

You feel him relax softly as he realizes who interrupted you, but this realization had the opposite effect on you. The person standing at the door was none other than the High Lord of the Night Court, and he had just found you half naked and about to fuck his Spymaster in his house, presumably on top of his desk. Azriel keeps one hand on the small of your back comfortingly as he stares at Rhysand, and you try to move away once more, your mind racing to find a way to apologize and leave as quickly as possible.

“You don't have to stop on my account,” he purrs, “You were putting on quite the show.”

The suggestive tone in his voice makes you momentarily forget your predicament, turning your head back to watch him, the sight prompting a small gasp past your lips. Rhysand had shed his jacket since the last time you'd seen him in the middle of the ballroom, his silk shirt was unbuttoned well past his chest as well, giving you a tantalizing view of his chest, his usually perfectly styled hair messy as if he'd been running his hand through it, a few strands falling over his forehead. He truly looked like temptation personified, but that wasn't anything new, what caught your attention was the desire on his face.

As the silence stretches uncomfortably in the room, you realize they must be speaking to each other in their minds using Rhysand's daemati abilities. Neither of them looks mad or worried, which allows you to relax at last, but you're still confused about the whole situation, and the way your underwear sticks to your folds isn't helping you think. You also feel a little left out as they keep watching each other, exchanging words that go unspoken, as if you weren't there in the first place. Seeing as they seem distracted enough, you take the opportunity to push away from Azriel and hop down from the table, not going far since his hands fall on your hips immediately, keeping you close as he finally looks down at you.

“I mean it, Az. We can both have her. You know I don't mind sharing, much less with you,” the High Lord finally says out loud.

The intensity in Azriel's beautiful hazel eyes, and the weight of his grip on your hips distract you for a moment, not allowing you to understand Rhysand's words right away, but when the implication clicks in your mind, you turn around abruptly, facing the High Lord with wide eyes. Azriel lets you, one of his hands leaving your hip in favor of holding onto the desk as he too studies the male who interrupted you.

“What do you mean?”

You had surmised that their little mental conversation had been about you, but hearing Rhysand's proposition had made every thought evaporate from your mind. You'd rather hear every word out of their minds, lest your body gets any ideas before you can comprehend what's going on. You'd also appreciate being kept in the loop.

Rhysand watches you for a second, purple irises appreciatively roaming over your entire form before holding your gaze. Azriel's shadows were still draped over you, but, since he was the High Lord of Night, you're not sure if he could actually see through them as well. It certainly felt like he could as his eyes burned into you, your body reacting as if he was actually touching you.

It seems he's searching your face for something, though you're not exactly sure what and have no time to think on it as he reaches a conclusion, a smirk appearing on his face as he starts walking around the desk with unhurried steps until he reaches you. Your body unknowingly followed him, and Azriel followed yours, until Rhysand was standing right in front of you, your neck bent so you could look up at him, and the shadowsinger stood behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his naked body, keeping you stuck in between the two irresistible males.

Rhysand's hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear, thumb moving to hold your chin, the golden rings he wears cool against your burning skin, as he finally answers your question, talking slowly, clearly, “It's no secret you want us both, darling,”

“What?”

If it wasn't for his hand holding your face, you would have looked away in shame the second the words left his mouth. His amused, self-satisfied expression doesn't help either.

“You're not exactly good at hiding your emotions,” he taps your left cheek twice with his finger, proving his point as your breath hitches and you fail miserably to school your expression, his wicked smile growing, before he pulls his hand away and adds, “Your thoughts tend to be particularly loud as well.”

This gives you pause, heart stalling in your chest. You're more than aware of his daemati abilities, but you also had seen him be nothing but respectful of others' wishes when using them. The Night Court has always been known to be conniving, even cruel, but you've had enough contact with the Winter Court's High Lord and seen enough important figures from other courts to know that this only meant they'd rather people know how far they could go than hide behind pleasant, fake masks. After meeting the Inner Circle personally, you were even more sure of this. You had never thought it possible that he would read your mind against your will but now you weren't so sure.

Rhysand continues, as if he was really privy to your thoughts and knew where your mind had gone, “Of course I try my best not to hear any of them, but it's very tempting when I hear my own name.”

“You're scaring her, Rhys,” Azriel warns.

His voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts and the tension in the room, prompting both you and Rhysand to look at him. You had almost forgotten he was still here, and when his gaze meets yours, you wonder how that was even possible.

You take a step to the side and lean against the desk so you could keep your eyes on both of them as you talk. It was also a way of getting a moment to breathe without their scents suffocating you, giving you too many unfiltered thoughts, especially since you weren't sure if they were only yours anymore. Rhysand seems to sober up at his Spymaster's words, the amused expression leaving his face almost completely as he reaches to hold your hand carefully, squeezing it once comfortingly before speaking.

“My mistake. I was just having a bit of fun, darling. I promise I never went into your mind without your knowledge. I also do my best to leave the room when I find myself unable to tune your thoughts out.” You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and that paired with the way he was holding your hand in his larger one, as if it was a normal occurrence, made you relax. “But my point still stands, it's impossible not to notice the way you look at me, and at Az.”

You're certainly no spymaster but you didn't think you were that obvious either. No one had ever called you out on anything of the sort. Your eyes fall on the silent shadowsinger, wondering if it was obvious for him as well, even if he can't hear your unusually loud thoughts as Rhysand had put it. Azriel's face gives nothing away, if it wasn't for the way his scent changed since you walked into this room and the obvious bulge straining in his pants, anyone that wandered in would believe you were actually talking about something as insignificant as the weather. He's making no efforts to soothe you so you suppose that's answer enough. He wouldn't be a very good Spymaster if he couldn't even notice the female gawking at him every time he's in the room after all.

“So you mean…” you trail off, not wanting to jump to conclusions as you look from one male to the other. This all seemed too good to be true, you were half sure you'd wake up in a few moments to find yourself in your bed, and this had all been a cruel trick your mind came up with.

“You can have us both, darling,” he confirms, squeezing your hand.

“Unless you want to stop,” Azriel reassures.

“No,” you're fast to say. Nerves or no nerves, you would see this through. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. That amused expression returns to Rhysand's face at your outburst, and it seems to be contagious as it travels to Azriel's face, albeit more muted. You swallow and try to calm your heart, wanting to do things right so as not to ruin the moment.

“I don't want to stop, but how are we doing this?” You ask slowly, trying not to let the heat of their stares get to you.

You wouldn't say you're particularly shy or inexperienced when it comes to sex, but you've never been with two people at the same time. It doesn't help that they happen to be two of the most beautiful males you've ever laid eyes on, not to mention one is the only Shadowsinger in Prythian, maybe the world, and the other is the High Lord of the Night Court, the strongest in history. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to rub your thighs together as discreetly as possible at the thought. Of course the movement doesn't go unnoticed, both of the males' eyes glazing over further as their gazes dip down to your center before meeting yours again.

“I was quite enjoying myself watching the two of you, and it's only fair to let Azriel go first. He already started after all.”

“We can move to one of the rooms if you want,” Azriel offers kindly. He's proving to be such a sweetheart next to the menace standing beside him. You nod, a bed would be a lot easier to work with than this desk.

In the blink of an eye, you're winnowed to a dark room. Not having enough time to fully take in the ornate decorations around the room before Rhysand leans down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek and moves to a reading chair, pulling it closer to the bed before sitting down, a glass of whiskey appearing on his hand out of thin air. It seems he meant it when he said he wanted to watch.

“You can let me see her now, Az.” You hadn't even noticed his shadows were still clinging to your skin, keeping your flushed body hidden away from Rhysand's hungry eyes.

Azriel does as his High Lord asks, sending his shadows to every corner of the room until not one is covering either of you. It's a strange sight, to see the shadowsinger bare of his shadows.

His hands move to take your dress off, pulling it over your head in a single movement. It seems the urgency from before was returning as he pulled you in for another kiss, your hands moving around his neck on instinct. As he starts walking you backwards towards the bed, your brain regrettably catches up to you once more, reminding you that you're in the Night Court on business, so being caught in this situation could make you lose the job you've worked so hard for, and so you break the kiss to ask, “Are you sure no one will see us?” You almost whine when he stops, even if it was your own fault.

“I won't let anyone come in this room,” he promises, staring into your eyes.

“He did.”

“This is my house, darling,” Rhysand clarifies from his chair, “We're the only ones here.”

Azriel rolls his eyes softly, leaning down to kiss you again, noticeably slower than before. Taking his time to coax your body to follow his, hands moving over you appreciatively, almost reverently. He moves down your neck, biting over the same marks he had left before, allowing your body to relax further into him.

“Breathe,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I'd hate to think my presence won't allow you to relax.” It's certainly making you all tingly. “I've been nothing but good to you.”

“I'm just a bit nervous.”

“I can keep Rhysand quiet if you want,” Azriel says, completely serious, making you smile, any lingering tension leaving your muscles at the offer. You would actually love to see how Azriel would keep the High Lord quiet, something tells you he would succeed.

“That's not it. I just…” you bite your lip, hand moving to hold the back of his neck, playing with the short hair growing in, “I've never done this before,” you confess.

“This?”

“I mean having someone watching me,” you explain, not wanting them to think you don't want to do this.

Azriel hums, thumb caressing your cheek as he leans in. “Just let me take care of you,” he says, tilting your head how he wants it, lips bumping against yours with every word, “You won't even remember he's still here.”

“We'll see about that,” Rhysand chuckles, sending a small burst of his power over the room, prompting a shiver to run down your spine, Azriel's too judging by the way his body trembled against yours, even his wings twitched a bit - you wonder if the High Lord noticed that, if he liked it.

The shadowsinger chooses to ignore him in favor of tasting you again. Deepening the kiss immediately as he continues his journey towards the bed, uninterrupted this time, carefully pushing you down on the mattress, his body following yours, his warmth never leaving you. You don't miss the way he arranges your bodies so that Rhysand can watch everything he does to you from his seat by the side of the bed. When he pulled out that chair, you hadn't noticed how close he had placed it, but even with both yours and Azriel's labored breaths filling your ears, Rhysand was close enough that you could still hear his, could smell his arousal deepening his scent, the same way he could hear and smell you as well.

As your thoughts wander, Azriel breaks away from your mouth so he can travel down your body, as if he had the same mind reading abilities as his High Lord and wanted all your attention on him. Leaving wet kisses in his wake, sharp canine teeth teasing your skin and warm tongue tasting the sheen of sweat forming all over your body, he achieves just that, your mind not even remembering the violet eyes burning into you.

At last, his mouth finds the hem of your panties, tugging on the fabric playfully with his teeth and letting them snap against your skin. You let out a soft gasp at that, getting up on your elbows so you can watch him better, meeting his gaze. His hulking body was sprawled on the bed, huge wings thrown to the sides, out of his way, as he grabs your thighs and pulls them apart, making you plant your feet on the mattress so he can fit himself between your legs better, the backs of your soft thighs meeting the hard muscle of his shoulders.

“Azriel,” you pant, needing him to do something. The way he studies the damp fabric clinging to your folds making you tremble with desire. The hum that comes from deep in his chest when hearing his name not helping your case. Your hands fist the sheets until your knuckles turn white, trying to stop yourself from grabbing his head and guiding him right where you need him.

Taking pity on you, he moves in, but not before letting his hot breath meet your damp skin, just so he could hear you say his name in that breathy tone one more time. Pressing an open mouthed kiss over the drenched fabric, he lets out a moan of his own.

“How does she taste?”

Azriel looks into your eyes, smirking at the shiver that crosses your body as you're reminded of your audience. “Absolutely perfect,” he murmurs, still pressed against you.

Rhysand shifts in his chair, but you don't have the opportunity to see what he's doing because Azriel hooks his thumb under the lace barely covering your heat in that same moment. He pushes your panties aside and repeats the same motion as before, tasting you properly this time. After licking a broad stripe across your cunt, he lets his tongue swirl around your clit, once, twice, humming when you moan his name again, head falling back against the mattress, hands finally moving to tangle in his soft hair, not caring about anything else besides the pleasure he's giving you, thinking he would continue.

The annoyingly attractive smirk from before grows even larger when you whimper and lift your head to look down at him in protest, almost pouting when he pulls away suddenly and lets your underwear snap back into place. You might have been too quick to assume he was nicer than Rhysand. He shushes you mockingly, getting up on his knees as scarred hands move to your sides, squeezing the flesh appreciatively before grabbing hold of your panties and running them down your legs slowly, taking the obstructive fabric off and leaving your body completely naked for his eyes to feast on.

Azriel doesn't take his eyes off you as he balls the fabric a bit, throwing it blindly at Rhysand, who easily catches them with a satisfied smirk on his face. The High Lord had completely unbuttoned his shirt at some point, letting the dark silk frame his body as he lounged in the chair. Not that you had any doubts, but he was truly mesmerizing. He winks at you when he finds you watching him, bringing the glass down from his lips as one hand - the one still holding onto the thrown underwear - travels to his crotch, squeezing himself and letting out an obscene moan, closing his eyes at the stimulation. Azriel is breathing hard in front of you, and, by the way his hand is frozen on your thigh, you don't have to look to know he also can't tear his eyes away from Rhysand.

“I'm the one who's supposed to be watching,” he reminds the two of you, a taunting lilt to his voice, chuckling when you both look at each other once more.

This sets the shadowsinger into motion once more, a slight frown taking over his features, disappointed for being caught by the High Lord. He comes up to kiss you again, spreading your legs, so he can fit himself between them, falling into your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him as close to you as physically possible, moaning into the kiss when his hard length presses right where you need him most, bucking your hips instinctively back and forth, the fabric of his pants adding just enough friction.

He indulges you for a bit, guiding your hips and meeting your thrusts halfway as you grind on him unashamedly. Wanting to hear every little noise you let out, he moves down to your chest, biting and sucking everywhere he can reach, completely devouring you. The shadowsinger seems to be trying to make good on his promise of making you forget Rhysand was watching, a competitive streak of sorts rising up after the little stunt the High Lord pulled just now. Maybe you should thank him because for a moment you think you even forgot your own name.

You were embarrassingly close to an orgasm when he stops your movements, strong hands holding your hips in place, silencing yet another whine with a kiss as his hand moves to find your cunt, gathering as much wetness as he can before pressing one finger inside you slowly, letting out a curse and quickly adding another one when he hardly finds any resistance. The squelching noises it elicits are absolutely sinful, and entirely too loud for the quietness in the room.

“Just wanted to get you ready for me, but I think you can cum like this, can't you?” He punctuates the question with a chaste kiss, one you don't even have the awareness to reciprocate, entirely too far gone already. His voice sounds deeper, rougher than usual. It's making your toes curl, and it alone could send you falling into that orgasm, walls fluttering wildly around his fingers.

Just as you're getting lost in the throes of pleasure once again, teeth come down on your neck - a warning. You open your eyes at the sudden, unexpected pain, not even realizing you had closed them in the first place. Meeting his gaze, you try to understand what he wants as the hazel in his eyes threatens to drown you.

“That was a question, angel,” he explains, slowing down his pace, fingers barely moving inside you now, but still keeping you full. You don't remember the last time you had been this turned on, there's no need to look down for you to know your wetness is running down his hand and soaking the dark sheets, your thighs coated in it too.

“Let's try again,” Azriel says, keeping your attention on him and thrusting his fingers in deeper, massaging that place that makes you see stars. He repeats the question, honey dripping from his words like poison, “Can you cum like this?”

“Please,” you beg mindlessly, finding your voice at last, arms tightening their hold around his neck. His skin felt like an aphrodisiac against yours, making you want more and more. In this moment, you probably would have done anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you.

Moans rise in volume as he speeds up just enough, adjusting your legs with his knee and leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before biting down softly on the hard peak and letting the tip of his tongue play with it, his hair tickling your skin.

It doesn't take long until you're falling over the edge, it feels like you've been dangling from it ever since he first put his hands on you. Pleasure rushes to every nerve in your body as you moan out his name mixed in with other incoherent pleas, nails digging into his skin, pulling out deep groans of his own. He lets you ride out your high, still thrusting his fingers in and out of you slowly even when he pulls away slightly, your arms falling from your hold on him as he sits up between your spread, quivering legs.

When your breathing calms down enough and you open your eyes, you find him entranced by the way his digits move inside you. His other hand had found its way into his pants, stroking himself in time with his thrusts. You sit up then, catching him by surprise at your eagerness as you tug down on his waist band, revealing his cock to the warm air in the room.

Azriel lets out a hiss when you wrap your hand around his length, fascinated by the way the tips of your fingers can't even touch each other. You'd never had anyone as big or thick as him, and the thought only made you wetter. Saliva pooled in your mouth as you studied him, thumb running up a particularly prominent vein, following its path up until you found his leaking head, feeling its softness on the pad of your thumb. Wanting to lean down and take him into your mouth, needing to know the weight and taste of him on your tongue as he drove his length down your throat.

“This is what I mean when I say your thoughts are too loud,” the usual teasing voice had a noticeable edge to it now, a breathiness that wasn't there before. When you look over at him, you find the High Lord's composure slipping through, hand grabbing onto the arm of the chair a little too hard, mouth slightly open as his breathing gets heavier.

Feeling bold, you look right into his violet eyes, letting your mind run wild as you imagined Azriel fucking your mouth, the filthy images pulling a moan out of Rhysand, loud enough that the shadowsinger looks to him in question, an eyebrow raised, barely hiding the amused look on his face since the High Lord looked as if he was the one who had your hand wrapped around his cock.

“She wants to suck your cock.” He sounds like he wants to watch you do it even more. You watch as Azriel's eyes glaze over, a hair raising noise escaping him. Rhysand had probably shown him all your little thoughts, the traitor.

“Is that so?” His voice was gravely, heavy with arousal. You nod enthusiastically in response, tightening your grip around him, a hiss escaping him before he can regain his composure. “We'll have to leave it for another time, angel,” he says, pulling your hand away from him, and prompting a whimper out of you, one he rushes to silence with a thumb over your lips. “First I need to fuck you.”

The desire in that statement sets you off, a frenzy that wasn't there before flooding your brain and pushing every sane thought out. Your hands move to help him remove his clothes, grabbing his neck and pulling him into a desperate kiss the moment they hit the floor. Azriel pushes you back down on the bed in a mess of limbs, teeth on teeth and heart to heart.

The next moments are hazy in your mind, one minute your hand had found its way back around his cock, swallowing every noise he let out, admiring the way his wings fluttered when you swirled your thumb around his head, and the next he had both of your wrists over your head in a steady grip, grinding his cock over your folds a few times before moving down, finally lining himself up with your cunt.

You catch a glimpse of the gentleman who's been assisting you in your work in the way he looks up at you in confirmation one more time, giving you the opportunity to tap out before things went further. Of course stopping was the last thing in your mind, but your heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness just the same. You nod at him, adjusting your thighs, opening them even more in invitation. A moan escapes you when you feel him push in, closing your eyes involuntarily at the stretch.

He goes slowly, giving you enough time to adjust and coming to a pause every time you show any little sign of discomfort until he bottoms out inside you, a breath of relief escaping you. It's not long until he's properly fucking you, both of you needing more.

As soon as he lets go of your wrists, deciding he would rather guide your hips as you meet his thrusts, your hands move to touch him, tugging on his hair, running your nails down his back. You hug him to you as close as physically possible, feeling his hard, warm body move against yours as he brings you unimaginable pleasure with every thrust of his hips.

No one has ever made you feel this insatiable before, and the suffocating power that filters through the room only makes your senses more heightened. You never thought having someone watching you in such a compromising situation would bring you so much pleasure, but your heart hasn't stopped beating out of time ever since Rhysand walked into that office.

“Azriel,” his name escapes in the midst of the breathy moans after a particularly deep thrust, one that has his pelvis grinding right over your clit in a maddening angle. You could feel him so deep inside you, you know it will be impossible to ever forget the way your walls hug him, the way he hits all the right spots.

“I know,” he says, leaning back and pushing your legs back towards your torso, your knees coming up to your head, spreading you completely open for him, making him go even deeper as he holds you in position.

It doesn't take much longer until you're cumming around his cock, a broken moan cutting itself short as your breath gets knocked out of you. You barely feel the way his hips falter, slowing down to avoid falling over the edge with you. He had every intention of playing with you a while longer before handing you over to his High Lord.

Azriel keeps fucking you through your orgasm, never stopping even when you come down from your high, a new one already building. He lets go of your legs, dropping them on his shoulders so he can hold onto your waist instead, moving your body in time with his thrusts. Sweat kept his hair stuck to his forehead, his wings spread out behind him, mouth agape as he watched his cock drive in and out of your heat, a ring of your cum forming around his base, making the sight so much more erotic.

“You have no idea how good you feel,” he murmurs to himself, the confession making you let out yet another embarrassing noise, one of your hands moving to hold onto his wrist. He meets your eyes, continuing with the mind numbing praise, “how beautiful you look like this, taking me so well.”

“You're making me feel so good too, Azriel,” you confess between heavy breaths, the way his cock bumps into every pleasurable point inside you making it hard to even breathe, let alone talk. He was going in so deep you swear you could almost feel him in your throat.

“Yeah?”

Biting your lip, you nod up at him, holding his gaze, wanting the hazel to consume you. Azriel's face is usually set into a mostly emotionless mask, fitting for the role of Spymaster, and even though he often shows more of his emotions when he's at ease, especially around his family, you've never seen him quite so open. He was completely unguarded as he looked down at you, not even his shadows coming to hide any part of him away from you.

It's this that pulls you under the waves of pleasure, letting go once more, giving way for yet another mind breaking orgasm, breath catching in your throat when he speeds up as you spasm against him, chasing his own high and intensifying your own as a result. Your entire field of vision goes black before you even close your eyes, the pleasure so intense you forget yourself for a good few moments, barely registering the way Azriel's body trembles along with your own, the curse that leaves his lips when he finally lets go, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you, filling you up in every sense of the word.

You're a mess of limbs and sweat by the time you both come down, struggling to catch your breaths, his heavy pants hitting your damp skin as you both try to get a hold of yourselves. Azriel leans down to give you a languid, messy kiss, savoring your taste as he gives you a few more shallow thrusts, keeping you full of him, and almost making you want to beg him to fuck you again.

He pecks your lips one last time, a chaste kiss compared to anything else that has transpired between you tonight, moving to the side to leave a few kisses on his way to your ear, where he leaned down to whisper, “You did so good for me, beautiful.” A breathy moan escapes you at the praise, at the deep timbre of his voice as he whispers it so close to your ear. You feel his lips stretch into a smile at the sound, rewarding you with another soft kiss before continuing, “It's time to give our High Lord some attention too, don't you think?”

His words drive you to look to your side, finding said High Lord watching you intently, his pupils so blown out you can barely recognize the distinct purple of his eyes, sitting back on his chair, one hand holding onto an empty whiskey glass, thumb slowly running over the rim. You could clearly see the black lace of your panties peeking out from his pocket, it seems he intended to keep them. He had long since unbuttoned his pants, allowing his underwear to peek out. There was a noticeable strain over the crotch of his pants, in fact if it weren't for the angle, you're certain you could make out the shape of his cock through the expensive fabric. The way his pants were pushed down over his hips, told you he hadn't resisted the temptation of stroking himself while he watching Azriel fuck you, the thought sending a shiver down on your body.

It's not that you forgot Rhysand was right there, his presence is entirely too powerful to ever go unnoticed, but Azriel had truly fucked you into a brainless mess for a moment, and watching the High Lord now, after already having his Spymaster, the only thing on your mind is doing exactly what Azriel said and give him all your attention.

With one last kiss, Azriel moves away from you, carefully pulling out and getting up with a lingering look at the way his cum was leaking out of your hole now that nothing was keeping it in. You swear you could even see his semi hard cock twitch at the sight, closing your legs so it didn't run down onto the sheets. He walks to the nightstand, grabbing a glass of water as he unknowingly puts on a show of his own, his entire body on display as the light catches on his sweaty skin. Azriel looked like nothing less than a God in that moment.

Sitting up slightly, your eyes move to Rhysand, more than ready for him, but not exactly sure how to go about it, hoping he would take the initiative. You had expected him to still be watching you, but that isn't what you find. Instead the High Lord was focused on his Spymaster, completely captivated by his body the same way you had been mere seconds ago. You briefly wonder just how many times they've done this before, and how many times they've taken it further. The thought makes something inside you flutter, pressing your thighs together as you feel yourself growing wetter once again. Insatiable didn't even begin to describe what these males were turning you into.

“If you don't hurry up, I'll just fuck her again, Rhys,” the shadowsinger says behind his glass, looking up at the male in question.

It feels like time stops for a moment when their eyes meet, the usual roles reversing as the High Lord forgets himself momentarily under Azriel's gaze, desire spilling over and flooding the room. You can pinpoint the moment Rhysand catches himself, that self-assured air he always has about him returning as a smirk falls over his lips. He even sends a pulse of his power across the room, finally standing from his chair.

“You're always rushing me, Az,” he purrs, “As if you don't enjoy playing with your food as well.”

“Food?” You meant for it to sound like a question, a little offended even, but it almost sounded like a plea. You were starting to feel a little left out watching the tension between the two males.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes out, looking at the way you sat waiting for him on the bed, “I'll show you in just a moment.”

As he walks to you, Azriel moves over to take his place silently, sending you an encouraging wink when he sits down and finds you watching him. This situation is foreign to you, and, as much as you believe that Azriel has no problems with Rhysand being here at all, it doesn't change the fact that you had spent the night with him, laughing and talking, he had been the one to kiss you first, pulling you into that office, all this while you've barely exchanged any words with the High Lord, you had even seen him more often before this night.

Your view of him gets obstructed when Rhysand reaches the bed, standing over you as he takes off his pants, having already discarded his shirt on the way. Since you were sitting, you were perfectly leveled with his crotch, getting a front seat to the way his heavy cock hung as he finally freed it from its confines. The tip was glistening, begging for you to put it in your mouth and taste it.

“You didn't pay this much attention to me when I was the one sitting on that chair.” The words break you from your trance, eyes traveling up his chiseled torso to look up at his smug face.

It is true that you've spent a lot more time with Azriel, and had barely been able to even remember the High Lord was right there, maybe you should rectify that. Reaching out and grabbing his cock firmly, you decide to show him Azriel wasn't the only one you wanted. Your tongue finds the tip of his cock, licking away the precum gathered there and moving to swirl around the head, tasting him properly. A surprised gasp escaped his lips, one strong hand instinctively holding the back of your head when you put the whole tip in your mouth, sucking loudly as you grip his base.

He was around the same size as Azriel, and you really weren't sure just how much you would be able to fit into your mouth without gagging, but you were determined to get as much in as you could. As your other hand moves to hold his hip, you start pushing him deeper as you bob your head, letting him help you as he thrust a few times into your hot mouth, managing to get a quarter of the way in before he tangles his fingers on your hair, pushing you off him.

You look up at him in question, a string of spit still connecting your lips and his cock. You're trying hard not to pout like he had just taken your favorite toy away from you, but this is the second time they won't let you pleasure them.

“If you keep going I'll cum,” he explains, clearly holding back. This makes you feel better, powerful even, seeing how much he's affected by you.

“That's the point, High Lord,” you say, tightening your hold around his cock, licking his tip playfully, smirking when he lets out a groan from deep in his chest. There was an air of authority in the sound - he liked it when you called him by his title, and you're certain you'd love the way he would put you in your place.

“I'm going to take care of you first,” he murmurs, thumb caressing your bottom lip, “You've been so good for us. I think you deserve it.”

He leans down, holding your head in his hands as he pulls you in for a kiss, pulling away too quickly for your liking, studying your face. Your eyes were still a bit unfocused and your lips were kissed raw, shiny with spit - yours, Azriel's and his. He can't help but bite softly and lick over your bottom lip at the thought. He then lets his eyes travel down your body, ignoring your soft whimper.

He instructs you to lay back down, and your body moves to obey his command immediately, back falling against the mattress once more, almost trembling with anticipation as you wait for his next move. Biting your lip to stop another whine from escaping when his hand replaces yours for a moment, stroking himself twice, spreading your spit all over his shaft as he studies your body. Rhysand took his time mapping out the bruises and bites his spymaster left on your spent body, his hands falling to the exact same place on your hips Azriel's had been.

“Az really made a mess of you,” he moans out, as if the way he had been eyeing you up wasn't enough to make you want to jump his bones.

Spreading your legs so he could fit himself between them properly, Azriel's cum starts running down your hole. Your breath catches in your throat when Rhysand kneels down before you even get the chance to react, tongue stopping his spymaster's cum from falling down onto the mattress, groaning deeply at the taste. He runs his tongue over your folds a couple of times, your hands fisting the sheets as he teases your already too sensitive clit, before moving back down to your heat, hands holding your thighs apart as he starts cleaning out Azriel's cum straight from inside you, driving you absolutely insane in the process.

“Fuck,” you hear the whispered curse come from the shadowsinger's, the chair squeaking as he leans back, likely feeling the same frenzy you did watching the High Lord eating his cum right out of your cunt.

From the first moment Rhysand walked into the room, you knew there had to have been more going on between the two that you had ever suspected, but you hadn't expected this. He was eating you like you were his favorite meal, moaning out in pleasure all the while. You had no doubts Rhysand wanted you, the fact was clear in his blown out eyes as he watched you throughout the night, but you don't think he wants Azriel any less, even though you were willing to bet he has already had him before.

The sloppy sounds echoing around the room would have probably embarrassed you in any other situation, had it been anyone else in the room. Your scents had mixed so thoroughly, there was no way to know where either of you began or ended. There were tears spilling from your eyes at the intense feelings wrecking through your body. Azriel had already made you cum so many times, you were too sensitive, but somehow still craving more.

A sudden movement makes you focus on the ceiling through blurry eyes, noting the way Azriel's shadows swirled around the dark painted wall, spying on you and Rhysand. If either of you were in the right state of mind, you would have noticed the way Azriel's breath came out in short pants, hand finding his way onto his already hardening cock as his shadows explained everything to him down to every sordid detail - the way your body trembles under Rhys' skilled tongue, white knuckled as you desperately tried to cling to your sanity; the delighted sounds escaping Rhys as he dove deeper and deeper inside you, cleaning you out of the shadowsinger's essence.

In the midst of the mind numbing pleasure, you hear a familiar voice whispering right inside your head, unwilling to tear himself away long enough to say the words out loud. Tell me when you're close, darling. He had never spoken straight into your mind before, and the feeling of his voice echoing in your mind mixed with the way he was already devouring your cunt, almost makes you cum right then and there.

Your hips were stuck between grinding onto his face and arching back, your own body not sure if it could handle everything Rhysand was giving you. It was all too much, the feeling of his warm tongue licking and sucking at your abused walls, the thumb oh so softly petting your clit, only giving it enough pressure, the heavy breaths coming from Azriel who was now watching you, their scents heavy in the air, their power thrumming through the room.

“I'm close,” you pant, eyes closing as your hand falls to play with his soft hair, “So, so close.”

He hums in response, lulling you into a fake sense of security before pulling away unexpectedly, right as you were about to fall into ecstasy. You let out a noise between a whine and a sob, gripping his hair harder, trying to guide him back to where you needed him. If they kept pushing away from you like this, you'd just push them onto the mattress and ride them to your heart's content.

“Bastard.”

Rhysand simply chuckles down at you, a cruel curve to his smirk, pulling your hand away from his hair far too easily given the death grip you had on the strands, even licking the palm up until the space between your fingers teasingly before letting go of it. He comes down to kiss you, silencing your cries and whatever nasty insult was following with his mouth, putting most of his weight on you to keep you melting into him.

You bite his lip vindictively, nails carving his skin, prompting yet another laugh out of him, infinitely amused by your temper. The taste of copper fills your mouth, intertwining with his and Azriel's tastes perfectly, neither of you stopping your assault as your tongues battled for dominance.

When he finally pulls away, both of your chests moving rapidly, the exact spot where your canines have pierced through were still visible on the plush skin of his lips, blood barely trickling down as his healing moved to tamper it down. Gods, blood looked good on him.

“Is this any way to treat your High Lord?” he questions, licking his wounded lip.

“You're not my High Lord,” you whisper back defiantly.

“I am for as long as you're in my court,” he starts, one of his hands running along your skin until he finds one of your breasts, thumb circling your nipple, your body treacherously arching into his touch, delighting him to no end. “Especially when you're in my bed.”

“I'm not sure how my High Lord would feel about that.”

Rhysand tilts his head to the side, eyebrow raising as a strangely possessive look falling over his eyes. “I can always send you back to him with my cum inside you,” hand abandoning your chest with one pinch to your sensitive nipple, “see what he thinks about it.”

“I think you mean your Spymaster's cum,” you say, mirroring his smirk when his breath hitches just a touch.

“Cleaned that all out, darling” the way he clenched his jaw told you his patience was close to snapping, and oh did you want to see it happen.

“He was so deep inside me,” your hand falls over your stomach as if demonstrating him, “I'm sure there's still some of it left.”

“You weren't this mouthy with Azriel.”

“I was too busy getting fucked to talk back.”

You're not sure if it was your words or the chuckle Azriel lets out that does it, but Rhysand lets out a growl, a deliciously powerful sound that echoes throughout the room, and makes you tremble in anticipation. His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, baring his teeth when you open your mouth to tease him once more, and flipping you over on your stomach before you manage to get the words out.

“Then let's keep that pretty mouth screaming my name instead.”

The High Lord is always so calm and collected, never losing his composure in front of anyone, but here he was, losing his control all because of you. He grabs your hips, lifting them up enough to place a couple of pillows under you, keeping your body raised at the right angle. You feel his palms fall over your asscheeks, spreading them apart, exposing you to him completely.

Pushing up on your elbows, you try to keep yourself up and turn your head around as far back as you can to see what he's up to, finding him dropping a string of saliva right onto your cunt. He meets your gaze right as it falls, its warmth dripping over you, before looking back down, grabbing hold of his aching cock and lining himself up, wasting no more time as he bottoms out in one single stroke of his hips.

Your forehead falls against the mattress, a broken moan escaping you at the suddenness, almost no sound coming out as if he had taken the air right out of your lungs. He doesn't give you any time to adjust either, grabbing your hips in a tight grip and thrusting into you at a reckless, punishing pace.

“Rhysand,” you moan loudly, just like he wanted you to. Rhys, he corrects in your mind. “Rhys,” you repeat, holding onto the sheets, “please don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

The sounds filling the room are downright filthy as he fucks into you. If you knew this would be the result, you would have started taunting him back a lot sooner. You're playing with fire, darling. You can't help but choke out a laugh between the pathetic moans escaping your lips, resulting in a particularly hard thrust from him, though you can almost feel that familiar smirk returning to his face.

That might have been the only downside to this: you couldn't look at him as he fucked you, couldn't see the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as your walls gripped his cock. You're not exactly sure if he read your thoughts again, but he slows down just enough to lean down over you, caging your body under his, his entire torso pressed against your back as he continues his assault in deep, hard thrusts.

You try to match the rhythm of his hips, arching your back into him to the best of your ability, chasing what could very well be your strongest orgasm yet. His muscles moved against you, tensing when you squeezed too hard around him involuntarily, one of his hands grabs yours, intertwining your fingers together, as his forehead falls against your shoulder.

“I'm so close, Rhys,” you choke out, feeling that knot getting impossibly tighter, threatening to completely wreck you when it snapped.

“You can let go, darling,” he pants, “I'm right there with you.”

It's hard to say if Rhys had been the one to search for Azriel's mind or if the spymaster had the idea on his own, but an image is projected onto the High Lord's mind in that moment, one that has him letting out a deep groan, sharp teeth finding your shoulder, hips faltering as he tries not to cum right then. He shares it with you as soon as he catches himself, the image of Rhysand fucking into you from Azriel's perspective filling your mind, a whiny moan leaving your lips.

You could barely see yourself under the High Lord's strong body, the way his back arched and his muscles moved with every thrust taking your breath away. Azriel was clearly focused on the way Rhysand's cock barely pulled out from you, only ever coming out until about halfway before slamming back in, pulling out otherwise pathetic sounds out of you. You could see the way your hole stretched to accommodate his thick length, thicker than you've ever had, clamping down on him viciously.

Apparently you had been right to assume there was still some of Azriel's cum inside you as it now formed a ring around Rhysand's cock mixing in with your own juices, the excess spilling down your cunt and dripping onto the sheets, covering your thighs and his, coating his balls.

As sinful as the sight was, what pushed both you and Rhysand over the edge were Azriel's unfiltered thoughts accompanying it and the desire that could be felt through them. You could tell just how much he was enjoying the show, eyes transfixed on the way your bodies moved together, stuck between wanting to keep watching, and wanting to join you, slip his cock right into your inviting mouth, muffle the sounds echoing around the room, or come up behind you, the arch of Rhysand's back would make it so easy to just slide right into his High Lord, fucking him as he fucked you.

Your entire mind goes blank when your orgasm reaches you, losing sense of your surroundings as you're pulled under. Rhys falls over your body, barely catching himself before crushing you with his weight. It takes a while before you actually feel like you can breathe or focus on anything at all, almost purring as the first thing you feel is Rhys' leaving soothing kisses over your skin, murmuring praises as he moves.

Turning your head you try to find his lips, failing as the angle works against you. A sigh escapes you when he pecks your cheek, pulling out of you with a wince, body trembling at the oversensitivity, and flips you over carefully letting you kiss him to your heart's content, molding your bodies together until you can't see where one begins and the other ends.

After a few moments, Rhys holds onto you, lifting you up with him as he sits up on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, your mouth running down his neck, marking the perfect skin and reveling in the soft sounds he rewards you with, his hands massaging your spent body tenderly.

“It seems we have a problem, darling,” he says, voice hoarse. You move your head away from his collarbone, looking up at him to find him watching something behind you - Azriel. The hunger written on his face tells you the night is far from being over, you swear you could feel him getting harder against your thigh.

You hadn't paid enough attention to Azriel in a while, too distracted with the mind numbing pleasure the High Lord was giving you. Turning your head around to see what that problem was exactly, you almost let out a moan at the sight. Azriel was still sitting on the same chair Rhysand had been before him, face leaning on his palm as he held his High Lord's gaze. He was sitting with his legs spread out, long, hard cock standing proudly against his abs, a bit of precum wetting the skin. You can't help but swallow when his hazel eyes fall on you, clenching around nothing as Rhysand speaks up once more, desire hanging over every word.

“Can't leave him like that, can we?”