#anyone else feel like killing themself?

[muppetbyers]

feeling totally normal about the way will hugs joyce and jonathan

[betweeninstrumentsandbooks]

.

[lettersfromtheendoftheworld]

I wish someone else would kill me, so I wouldn’t have to disappoint everyone. The best thing that I could offer really. A story of someone who’s better than I ever could be.

[bloodandoranges]

“…I would have killed you.”

Astarion x Reader (tav is gender neutral / little bit of angst / Astarion kills some creeps / comfort sorta?)

CW: VERY VAGUE mentions of (but avoided) unwanted advances (not by Astarion or Tav; but directed towards Tav.)

if anyone likes this concept I may do another chapter?

If Astarion had a tail? They were sure it’d be lashing about right now like a furious cat. He urged them into the room, immediately softening when they were alone, cool hands moving to cup their face. He winced at the blood.

“What the hells were you thinking, rushing off alone like that!?” He barked, the fear in his eyes betraying the fury in his voice…he looked as if he may cry. “I was just going to check out a quick lead, I figured I could do that alone…” Tav sighed, shaking their head as they peered up at him. “I planned to just be in and out.”

They’d settled in at the Elfsong Tavern for the night, desperate to have a bed for once. Their little party was happy to have a moment to relax and drink, but Tav had noticed a sewer grate when they’d come upon the tavern, and intended to expend a moment of their time to atleast check it out.

Of course, Baldurs Gate at night was a dangerous place. Outside of a tavern? Even worse. A few drunk humans had tried to flirt, and got a more than a little angry when denied. Cue Astarion; rushing in from the shadows and tearing out the throats of the unlucky ones without a second thought.

He’d dragged Tav away from the gruesome scene, softly hissing fury at them for being so foolish.

And that’s where they were now, nestled in the safety of their room, both of them covered in blood. Tav gave a shudder, running a hand through their hair. Astarion watched them with piercing eyes, fury evident in the way his eyebrows were furrowed.

“…I’ll run us a bath.” He spoke, saying nothing more as he stood and slinked away. The second he was out of their sight? He let himself crumbled a little, hand settled over his mouth as he worked to process what had happened. Those men could’ve hurt Tav. They could’ve-… He used to be the one who would prowl in the night, taking innocent victims love and then their lives. It made him feel sick to his very core.

He’d thought nothing of it at the time; why would he? He’d not had a choice. He’d never had a choice. And yet, he’d grown complicit. It was hard not to. He couldn’t help it, and besides, why should he care for anyone else, when no one had tried to save him? Of course, Tav had come along and flipped his world upside down, showed him he could grow…but growing hurt.

Tav sat stock still on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They hated being scolded like a child, and yet they knew Astarion was just /scared/. Just like he was when Araj offered them that potion. Just like he was every time they’d been downed in battle; always the first at their side. Always the first to bark and berate them, then tenderly tend their wounds. He had no idea how to even begin to process those feelings…and so he lashed out.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily make it okay…just understandable. Something they’d work through together. They’d been working through.

They were so lost in thought they almost didn’t hear Astarion call out, stumbling to their feet and over to the tub settled behind an old partition. He was already settled inside, gazing out the window next to the tub.

He looked utterly stunning in the moonlight, it almost shone on his wet, porcelain skin. Water dripped from his face - now clean of all the blood. He finally tilted his head to gaze at them, and though his expression was stoic? There was a pain in his eyes. Slowly, Tav peeled away their clothes, eager to rid themself of the blood and dirt from the past few days.

Astarion’s gaze didn’t leave them, always fond and adoring. His arms wound tight around their waist as they slipped into the tub, pulling their soft body against his. Settling his face against their shoulder, he inhaled their scent. Blood, flesh, warmth. Alive.

“I am sorry, you know,” he whispered against their skin, lips trailing over it. “For…ugh, /overreacting/. I was just— I was worried, okay? I saw how those men were eyeing you off, like you were a piece of meat, a prize to be won, and it— …it made me think… of myself. How I used to be.” Though it was frantic? His voice was hardly above a whisper, so meek compared to his usual manner.

“That— you had no choice,” Tav said quickly, whipping around with lighting speed so they could gaze at him. Astarion stared at them, piercing red eyes full of sadness, eyebrows furrowed. “I know. I just—…” he shook his head, resting his forehead against Tavs, gazing into their eyes.

It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of the sloshing water as the pair adjusted.

“I would have killed you.” He breathed, a tense silence filling the room at his words.

He’d spoken them before, at Cazadors palace, just before the fateful reunion that rendered the vampire’s plans obsolete, that freed the spawn that Astarion had unknowingly created.

A shaky breath was the first noise to escape the silence, as Tav wound themself around Astarion, as best as they could. He pressed his face into their shoulder, breathing them in, focusing on the sound of their soft heartbeat. Fingers tangled into white curls, holding him close as the two of them quietly ached.

“You don’t ever have to be that again.” Tav whispered, soon pulling away from the embrace to cup his face in their hands, and he gazed at them like a sad puppy as he melted into their loving embrace.

“I know,” Astarion responded, hands gently clasping their wrists, kissing over their palms… he hoped that one day? He could believe that.

[miskamix]

hello!! I would like to ask from chuuya x f! shy reader who asks to ride his thigh

Chuuya x shy!f!reader asking to ride his thigh

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Sorry this took so long! i took a small break cuz i wasn't feeling well but i'm back:D

Btw for anyone who has requested something but i haven't done it yet, i'm not ignoring yall(not all of you)!

TW: Use of the word cunt, cock and dildo idk, just tell me if i need to add more

English is not my first language!!

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Lately Chuuya has been away from home and staying late at his office way to much, which has left you with some pent up desire! But you couldn't just ask for him to fuck you because it's embarrassing and he would most likely tease you for it!

So you've tried everything to relieve the pent up desire, but nothing worked. You tried fingering yourself, but your fingers weren't as long and skilled as his. You tried to use dildos, but it didn't feel as good as when he would bounce you on his cock and praise you for being so good.

You always tried to wait for him to come home so he could fuck you, but you always ended up falling asleep or being to tired to do anything else then sleeping.

At this point you were so desperate for some sort of intimacy with him, so you finally decided to face the embarrassment of asking him.

It was quite late in the evening, almost night time, when you walked into Chuuya's office and seeing him working on some paper's on his table.

"..Darling..? what are you doing here so late..?" He asks looking at you with concern. You walk up to him behind the desk and you can see him giving you a confused look, "is something the matter doll..?" he asks again while slightly rubbing your hips with his thumbs.

You just look at him while feeling your face turn red, and your fingers slightly fiddle with the hem of your night gown. After some time you finally get the courage to tell him, "Chuuya i need you so bad!" you say louder then you thought and slightly turn away.

He chuckles sligthly, "is thats whats been bothering you, princess..?" he asks with a smile. You look him in the eyes, "..yes.. you've been away from me to long.." you whine. He chuckles again and brings you close to his chest so he can smell your hair. "..Darling.. this is important.. you can't ride me while i do this.." he whispers in your ear.

You whine again and sit on his lap while slightly rubbing yourself onto him, "Chuuya.. please just let me ride your thigh, i won't distract you..!" you say while hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "..please.." you beg and he just strokes your hair.

"Fine, but you better not distract me, pretty girl" he teases you while helping you take of your panties, and once they're finally of you slowly lower yourself onto his thigh.

As soon as your cunt touches his thigh, you start to move to get some friction on your clit. You let out slight whipers that are muffled by chuuya's shoulder, while he just keeps writing.

Chuuya feels his thigh becoming wet and chuckles, and every once in a while he bounces his leg to make you squeak.

After some time you feel your orgasm coming closer and start to rub yourself faster and faster, while your moans and whimpers become louder making chuuya stop paying attention to his work.

Your orgasm hit you hard, eyes tearing up, thighs shaking and out of breath. once you had calmed down slightly, chuuya puts you onto the desk.

"Darling.. you look so beautiful like this.." He whispers in your ear while you can hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt.

You know whats about to happen, and you sure are gonna enjoy it.

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An: Sorry this took so long, at first i was just taking a small break for like two days but then i found out one of my friends killed themself's and i didn't feel like writing anything since i was already having a hard time getting through school

Anyways requests are open!!

[animeyanderelover]

Hiii, I don't see much of Jujutsu Kaisen so that's what I'll be requesting:

1. Happy deathday (Gojo, sukuna, nanami, Mahito, the 1st years)

2. Their reaction to s/o being able to nullify their ability (Gojo, sukuna, Mahito)

You can add other characters you'd like and think might be interesting.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, clinginess, paranoia, controlling behavior, sadism, isolation

S/o can nullify their abilities

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾I can see his s/o very well being assigned to Yuji as soon as the boy has swallowed Sukuna’s finger. The King of Curses himself doesn’t do much besides cackling over you as he sees you as nothing more but a mere babysitter. It has definitely happened that his mouth has popped up on Itadori’s face, tauntingly questioning you about what you hope to do once he actually gains control. You never appear shaken though, always fairly calm and composed as you reply to him before Yuji slaps the mouth shut and apologizes to you. Sukuna is always watching and he definitely observes your confident exterior which does elicit his curiosity. What exactly can you do? What are your abilities? He wants to test you, to see if you are only bark and no bite or if you can stand for your words. Yuji’s naïve wish to protect people is exploited for Sukuna’s own use and soon he snatches the chance to gain control of Yuji whilst he is in your presence. He is fully prepared to kill you if you don’t prove yourself.

🗾Only that the situation never escalates to a battle as all you do is touch him and seal his powers away, forcing him back inside Yuji’s mind. You don’t want to risk any unnecessary destruction. So you just brush him off as nothing? Who do you think you are? It’s a rare humiliation Sukuna has to suffer on that day as you aren’t even willing to fight him and label it as unneeded. He’s seething, his words from that day on filled with a lot more spite but you always reply with an equal amount of sass and snarl. He really has to work on that mouth on yours. As infuriated as he is though, he can’t deny that there isn’t a spark of attraction within this all though. He definitely has to put you in your place but your unique ability to cancel someone else’s technique is, even if quite plain-looking, definitely the ultimate counter against anyone. You’d definitely be useful in his later schemes to help him to regain all of his fingers and to get his original body back.

🗾The verbal banter between the two of you keeps going on as both of you essentially see who can deliver the heavier blow with their insults. A part of Sukuna is definitely yearning for a chance to get another chance to fight you physically but for now he has to be satisfied with this. He can’t deny it though, he is enjoying this by now quite a lot. He’ll tolerate this bratty and rebellious behavior of yours for as long as he is stuck inside the boy’s mind. As soon as Uraume has revealed themself, Sukuna is ordering his servant to keep a special eye on you for as long as he still hasn’t regained a body over which he has full control. You absolutely can’t die now that he has gotten so incredibly interested in you. As much as he would love to search for you right now and get his rematch, he feels his control slowly fading away. There is a sadistic grin on his face though as he takes one final glance at the havoc he has caused in Shibuya. He can’t wait to see your reaction of despair, knowing that it was your job to prevent something like this from happening.

Gojo Satoru

🩵He has always had a particular interest in you. Although you are a low-ranked sorcerer, there has always been something that has made Gojo’s day that much more delightful. Is it your frustrated facade whenever he is teasing the living daylight out of you? Is it the way you pout whenever you feel a bit neglected? Whatever it is, Gojo is absolutely obsessed about it and just can’t stop himself from always following you around. He is the worst attention-seeker possible and he either annoys you to have you focus on him or he is being more considerate and buys you expensive presents to gain your attention and maybe even some praise and a kiss out of gratitude. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if it would have stayed that way. But then you just had to develop this Domain Expansion of yours, didn’t you? An ability that completely eradicates all Cursed Energy within except your own, that drains the energy of all foreign living beings within and only strengthens you in return. Suddenly your popularity breaks through the roof.

🩵Suddenly Gojo’s perception of you changes as well. It is a development he doesn’t want to accept. You were supposed to only be this adorable sorcerer he knew about and paid attention to. You weren’t supposed to be the center of attention, be it good or bad. You weren’t supposed to be like him. He knows that the stronger and unique one’s powers are, the more likely they are to be targeted by those who fear such strength. Even if he has no proof for it, Gojo’s paranoia suddenly appears. What if you are really targeted by someone? What if you are killed by someone? The change in atmosphere when he is around you is palpable as he is a lot more rigid and his blue eyes are always darting around as if he fears that someone or something will come for your life at any moment. For a little while this is all he mainly thinks about as he tries to butter up to you by telling you about the experiences he has had as a child to justify his overly clingy behavior. It isn’t long until he has another realization though. Your abilities would even render his powers useless.

🩵Gojo’s identity has always tied into being the strongest, about being the one who no one can beat. Now you exist though. Now you are there and can eradicate his abilities. What does that make him then? Is he even himself if he isn’t the strongest? A part of Satoru is tempted to ask you to show him your Domain Expansion in the little hope that your powers won’t work on him. The other part of him is too frightened to do so as he doesn’t want his belief up until now to be destroyed. Who is he if he isn’t the one everyone has always thought him to be? The man is terrified, terrified as he realizes that the one person who could most likely kill him is you. That isn’t who you were supposed to be. You were supposed to be only his. Desperation and bitterness collide with each other as Gojo wishes that you would have just stayed that overlooked and weak sorcerer you used to be. You don’t need any Domain Expansion. You don’t even need to be a sorcerer. You only need him. Satoru will help you to realize this.

Mahito

🔷Mahito has always been carefree and goofy even whilst committing atrocities by toying around with humans. He has always gotten a good laugh out of Yuji’s moral lessons, about the boy’s anger whenever he transfigured and killed humans. It has always been fun and that is largely because so far Mahito has never been seriously beaten. Until he crosses paths with you. A freelancer of a sorcerer who isn’t really working for the Jujutsu society. It isn’t his first time that he has fought against a sorcerer and in hindsight his mistake was taunting you even whilst you weren’t willing to fight him. Of course he will never blame it on himself that he pushed you over your limit until you ran out of patience. Soon he is crying and screaming as he tries to scramble away from you yet without any success as he is in your Domain Expansion. Quivering pupils look at you as you calmly walk over, your fists stained in his blood as you look at him with chilling disregard. He isn’t even worth killing.

🔷Mahito is unable to live with the humiliation you give him on that day. Never before has he been on the weak side before, never before has he been on the side that suffers. That’s why he is unable to process it all. He’s deeply scarred after that encounter with you. Partially he is utterly and partially he yearns for revenge, traumatized as he can’t and won’t accept how you treated him on that day as if he was the disposable toy. Mahito initially becomes more obsessed with the thought of forcing you to cower on all four in front of him. He needs to correct his view on the world that has been shattered ever since you cursed his life. His body is still far too terrified to get close to you so the curse starts stalking you from a safe distance and he hates how his body always freezes in fear and panic if your head turns around, petrified that you might have sensed him. He hates what he has become of you, petty hatred all directed against you for this humiliation he had to endure because of you. Mahito wants to see you suffer even more than he did.

🔷Hatred soon gradually weakens with time though as Mahito starts getting interested in you. Initial plans to kill closed ones of you fail as he soon comes to realize that you are a true lone wolf. Your life is lonely and isolated from others as you like to keep to yourself. Why is that? Is there a deeper lying fear? Or does nobody like you? It is almost as if Mahito is actively trying to find something to pity you for all to boost his own sense of superiority and confidence. You really don’t seem to have anybody in your life and suddenly he is very adamant to keep it that way. Someone like you doesn’t deserve anyone and he even takes it a step further by interfering to the point where other sorcerers start distrusting you. He wants to see you lonely. He wants to find a way to break you because only then can he feel whole again. Don’t worry though. He’ll gladly keep you as soon as he has found out how to completely take away your abilities. He’s sure that you’ll be at your cutest when you’re at your weakest and most vulnerable point.

[abbyromanoff]

EXPLICIT

PAIRINGS: serial killer!Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,598

WARNINGS: smut, gun kink, switch!R, switch!Nat, serial killer!Nat, mentions of murder, death, violence, teasing, degrading, praising, cunnilingus, masturbation, daddy (N), begging, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“You’re so cute, I almost don’t want to kill ya’.” The woman chuckled, bringing a new tear to your sore cheek. You were growing red as sobs forced themself out of you. Fear was implanted into your brain, that was obvious to Nat and anyone else who’d have the misfortune of seeing you like this.

“Please, I’m not ready to die!” You begged, eyeing the gun tossing in her hand. She failed to show a sense of remorse, instead fanning a faux frown.

“Don’t you look sweet on your knees, it’s like you were meant to be a trashy fucking whore.” You gulped down the words that were trying to make way, knowing these could be your final moments if so. Although, even if you kept quiet and agreed to her terms, you had a feeling it would end with the same results.

“Why are you doing this? I don’t know what I did but- but, I- I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow! Whatever I did, please- just let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” You clawed at her sweatpants that were hiding the soft, tan skin. Her outfit choice was laid back, making it look like she had done this regularly. You imagined all the victims who must’ve looked like you, a pathetic mess begging for their life, then they were dead. And you were next, you knew there was no hope she’d let you live.

“Oh, I know you will.” She didn’t say another word as the gun came to your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering every blessed moment of your life while you could before it was stripped away from you. The moments where you finally held peace with your family. The moments where your friends finally showed their support. The moments you came home with a smile on your face from an outstanding test result. But there weren’t many, your life had gone slow, your every move being thought out and planned to a max. But these plans never succeeded, which led you to hope your later years would be all that you dreamed of late at night when you wallowed in self-pity. But they were being stopped short, all because you fell into her trap like a mouse being bribed by cheese.

“Open- yeah, good girl.” You slowly followed her request, goosebumps spreading around your skin as the cold metal pressed the back of your heated throat. A small gag came from you, resulting in a low groan from the woman standing over you. You didn’t know her name, you guessed you never would.

“Now suck it, baby. Suck it like the dirty slut you are.” You hesitated to rest your hands on her backside, fearing one wrong move would bring this to a short, unfulfilling end. But she didn’t complain, only thrusting the weapon in and out of you at a slow pace. Small strings of saliva would connect you with the horrid act, being the small reminder of what sinful acts you were committing. You were getting face-fucked from something that brought death to many, you were disgusting.

“Oh my, look at you rubbing that sweet, little clit of yours. You’re so wet, I bet you’d take Daddy’s fingers like it was nothin’!” She bit her lip as her ears closed in on the squelching sounds you hadn’t noticed you were creating. You instantly drew back your fingers, trying to return them to their previous destination but the act was refuted.

“You’re not taking that back now, darlin’. C’mon, make Daddy happy, she is the one deciding if you’ll see another day, after all.” She retreated her gun from your mouth, letting you release multiple hurried breaths as you coughed on nothing.

“You’ve made me so fucking wet, look at the mess you made.” You held little recollection of when she dipped her hands beneath the layer of clothing, being too focused on watching her facial expressions to ensure she was satisfied.

Fingers were displayed in front of your face, two of them separating as a line of arousal followed. The string broke, and your tongue met with your lips, leaving a glow from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“Please,” Came your small, pleading tone. The woman raised a brow, a silent signal for you to continue. You looked down, shame and guilt spreading throughout your body and boiling deep inside of you along with the tightening in your lower stomach. You were feeling so many different emotions and all of them were due to her, how she could hold so much power, you didn’t know.

“Please what?” She asked when knowing you wouldn’t follow the small command. You sniffled, bringing a grin to Nat’s face. Her lips soon twisted into a smirk that only frightened you further.

“Please let me taste you, Daddy.” She cooed, wiping the dribbles of drool mixed with tears from your chin with her thumb before taking it between the barrier beneath her lips, humming at the taste that greeted her.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You repeated from earlier, the lack of mercy showing across her face only making you regret coming home that night. You should’ve stayed at a friend's, you never should’ve gone out in the first place.

“No, you did this to yourself.” Her pants lowered along with the lace panties she adored before she stepped forward, tugging your head closer by your hair and creating a tight ponytail. She drew you in when you denied, relishing in the motions you gifted her. Your tongue drew circles on her clit before you sucked graciously, moaning at the sweet nectar you received. You wondered if this is how most of her victims spent their last moments and nearly wept in misery as the acceptance came into play, this is how you’d spend your last moments, you were now considered a victim. You never got to say goodbye to your family, instead being forced into accepting her wetness. But, when you tried to wallow in sadness, you couldn’t find such. No, you only felt a smile threatening to take the way of your lips. You got to admire the beauty of Natasha Romanoff, the most famous and feared serial killer in the city, only no one knew it was her. They gave her a name, a feared title, but no one lived to tell the tale of how her red hair splayed across her neck, a few strands sticking up in the heat. No one got to see the stare she was giving you, the signs of pleasure that were seeping into your awaiting mouth.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, little girl.” You sucked harder, occasionally parting to tease her hole before you felt liquid easing out of her, the result bringing a sense of pride. But you didn’t stop there. Even when her head was thrown back, her veins along the skin nearly popping while her sculptured jawline shined beneath the light, you didn’t stop. She looked as though the gods from above had sent her down, but she instead came from hell. She was a devil in disguise of an angel, and you were slowly turning the more her grasp lingered.

“Wha- what are you doing, baby?” Her hips thrusting disagreed with her mind telling her she had to leave, she couldn’t risk the danger of getting caught for a human she barely knew the name of. You held no importance to her, and the more you brought yourself to accept her actions, the more she reconsidered ever choosing you. She noticed you on the way home from a bar and thought you were the perfect person; you were sweet, making sure you tipped the bartender more than most before waving your coworker goodbye. Nobody would notice if you were gone, she’d be able to flee in no time. But you weren’t making that easy for her, you were a challenge she never faced. She knew this would bring her deeper into the hole she dug for herself, but she couldn’t stop moaning.

“Oh- God! Mhm, right there, that’s the spot!” You replaced your tongue with your fingers, letting your digits rub her clit softly while you dipped in and out of her tight hole.

“Fuck,” She dragged out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head while a gasp left her. You pinched her bundle of nerves in hopes of getting a reaction out of her, which you instantly did.

“Can’t…I can’t take it.” She admitted, causing you to pull away. The action brought a whine from her that enlightened you, sending a rush through your body.

“Hm, it doesn’t sound like you want me to stop.” She shook her head, dragging you in and expecting you to continue, bringing out an impatient groan when you refused.

“Oh, now you want it? C’mon, I want to hear how bad Daddy needs me to suck that pretty little clit.” She clenched around nothing at your words, the embarrassment seeming to send heat waves to her tightening coil ready to burst once more.

“I need it, baby girl. F-fuck, I need it so fucking bad! I’ll do anything, just please let me cum for you.” You chuckled, taking the weapon that had dropped to the floor in a rush from her previous endeavors. You pressed it against her hole, smirking as she seemed to take it with ease. You slowly started dragging it in and out, your previous load of saliva keeping the gun wet.

“Mm, look who’s the one begging now.”

[opal-owl-flight]

TIRED OF WAITIN’ MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND

YEAH ITS ALRIGHT, WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU WANT IT, DONT YOU BE SO SHY, SHY!

OH MY GOD I LOVE STARKILLER WIDNEKD. I had this idea for Tartar manipulating 3 with words similar to the song…

more abt that below + the piece without the words :]

I wonder if 3, at that point in OE, carry a thought within them... something Tartar can use.

The sanitization is absolute mind control, yes, but it would be neat if it was preceded by a sort of hypnosis; a suggestion that tartar puts out for a victim to bite onto (not that it really matters. The forced body control happens anyway.)

Theres a yearning for the past. That much I know. But I do wonder if Tartar also suggested something else alongside that.

"Ah, the legendary captain of the Squidbeak Splatoon. He probably was the one who pulled you out of that life, hm?"

"...Yes."

"Despicable, this old coot, forcing you to fight a war that ended a century ago. Forcing you to dig up a city your nation already buried.

Making you a weapon in this...disgusting show of continued dominance."

"..."

"Dont you want to end him, right here, right now?"

"...."

"Avenge that younger self, child. Join me, and we will make sure he never hurts you again."

"..."

They look at Cuttlefish. Cod, theyre so weak, their head hurts, they are in no shape to defend themself. Neither is the old man, but...

Their hearts were burning with a feeling theyve been burying for years. A feeling thats gotten stronger and stronger over the long patrol.

This...doubt. Towards the captain they followed the ends of the earth for. Day by day, being pushed to their limits for his continued war. Wanting his approval, wanting to make him proud. Believing that theyre indeed keeping this fragile world safe.

Wanting to...keep being this hero he said they were.

But its getting harder to believe those words now. Not when that Octarian from earlier was such a sweet soul...among others theyve encountered and observed in other patrols.

Their arm burned. It was drenched in that cyan ink the telephone was oozing.

They have no reason to trust this thing that almost killed Cuttlefish and that Octarian that he was with moments before.

Still...

They feel...

Their mind is slipping.

So tired...so hurt...

"Join me. I can give you rest.

Ill bring you...to the promised land."

"...Okay."

--------

They went fully unconscious for awhile. When they "awoke" (but is still under Tartar's control), they were already fighting 8. And their body hurt even more than before.

They never shouldve trusted him.....

--------

This baiting rings familiar, doesnt it. Order did it to 4, as well. Much to 3s horror, they were the reason she took that bait. Her desire to be their perfect agent, and their desire to never be hurt or used by anyone like Cuttlefish again...

They wanted her to be strong enough so she can stay safe and live her life the way she wanted to. But their fear spoke louder than their adoration for her.

Hurt people hurt people, cycle of violence, and all that.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Can you write where Ethan as Ghostface kidnaps reader to keep her from the reveal because he loves her and doesn’t want her to get hurt but she falls in love with his masked self so he ends up revealing himself anyway

kinda had to change this a tiny bit, but still got that stockholm syndrome vibe. also I've never done this trope so this might not be great, i tried.

masterlist

“shit. it’s a trap!” chad yelled as he paced around the floor. the lights in the theater cut off cloaking the space in an ominous darkness.

arms stretching in front of you, trying to keep yourself from running into cabinets or people. your heart was hammering against your ribs, quick uneven breaths leaving your mouth. “guys? guys!” not hearing anything back from your friends.

“anyone-“ a gloved hand covered your mouth and it muffled your horrified scream. ghostface got you, you’re already dead. you tried jerking away from them as they dragged you away and further in the abandoned theater. the scratchy material of their robe rubbed at your throat and tickled your stomach.

you could feel the muscle of the stranger beneath their costume, physically telling to you that you were out matched. your harsh breathing from your nostrils filled the hallway along with two steps of footsteps. their hold was tight but not restricted, if you could just kick or swing maybe-

“i wouldn’t try anything, sweetheart.” a low voice whispered in your right ear. they didn’t have the standard ghostface tone, but it sounded like they were trying to disguise it. an involuntary shiver racked your spine and hitched your breath.

continuing in their rush to drag you away they brought both of you to a cluttered closet, sneakers bumping into fallen bottles and soft rolls of towels. practically being shoved into a metal shelf and causing a wooden broom handle to clatter noisily to the linoleum flooring.

"help! help-"

"shut up! i'm trying to save you!" your captor growled and their clunky boots carried themself into your limited space. their towering stature staring down at you through those empty black eyeholes.

"save- save me?" you stuttered, "you've been trying to kill us for a week! sam! chad! help me-" scratchy fabric covered your mouth and part of your nose causing your breathing to be short and panicked.

ghostface leaned in closer, "well you seem like the only good one so I'm being generous and deciding to spare your life. now, i have to go after your friends, but you're gonna stay here until i come back and everything will be okay." waiting for a beat before rushing out back into the light and leaving you to sub come to the dark.

did it make you a bad person, or a bad friend if you were relieved that a serial killer decided you were worth keeping alive? you'd be willing to play their little game for however long until you were ready to run free and disappear, they seemed to have a sort of liking to you. maybe an obsession, they would've been stalking you if they knew your every move and location.

it kinda made you feel a certain way. a romantic, unhinged sort of way. you've heard of people saying how their partner is obsessed with them, but having a stranger being so obsessed with you they're willing to kill everyone else to keep you...

maybe your ex's were right. you were a bit sick in the head.

you weren't sure how long you were locked in the closet. could've been ten minutes could've been an hour, but when you heard rushed footsteps outside the door and the lock turn you rushed forward and threw your arms around your kidnapper.

"let's go before the cops arrive." was all they said after a minute of your hug. your dropped your arms, but they reached for your left hand and dragged you behind. you followed like a lost puppy.

when an exit sign came into view they halted to a stop causing you to bump into their back, confused by their decision. "what's wrong?" rounding to stand in front of them, hands still locked.

"i- i have to stash the costume. don't- don't want you to see my face." they almost seemed worried, concerned about your reaction to their identity.

"hey," you stepped closer, hand reaching to caress the mask, "it's okay. i'm not gonna run. i- i want to stay with you, you saved me." voice dripping in seduction and honey. eyes doeing to further convince them of your alliance to them only.

with their free hand they gripped the chin of the mask and slowly lifted it away until to came free and you were greeted by the shocking sight of- "ethan?" his sweaty curls shading his eyes.

he didn't say anything, just bit into his bottom lip while watching you closely waiting for that inevitable switch that always happens when the killer is revealed in movies. but all he got was a creeping smile changing your face and you saying, "when we're safe i'm gonna make out with you so hard, killer." before he rushed to stripe the black robe off and you both rushed out the deserted building.

hand in hand. grinning like the psychos you are.

[aritany]

On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn. 

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt. 

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come. 

Your sunshine will come.

[autistichalsin]

A Durge Theory

This is my theory for my Durge, and resist!Durge in general, but obviously YMMV with your own!

So, the core of this is the memories that are unlocked if you either give Durge a noblestalk or use Heal on them. Two in particular are relevant here:

If you eat the noblestalk but haven't met Sceleritas Fel yet, your memory is of murdering a newborn.

If you have Heal cast on you while not having eaten the mushroom nor having resisted Bhaal yet, you see a memory of having murdered a family, very likely the one that took them in.

In the first case, you have a few options for reacting, one of which is, "Delve: why did it die?" The Narrator then says (in a way that indicates it might be your own thoughts): "*Better to die than live on an earth walked by you. Each of your deaths is a mercy.*"

Durge, despite their brutality, despite their affinity for torture, ultimately views their deaths as merciful, because even torture is better than living in the same world as them. That..... is a staggering amount of self-loathing.

For the second option, Durge has a few options, all of which lead to Sceleritas taunting him: "Young Master, precious fledgling, follow ever your heart. In time, your true family will find you." Durge was quite young when their Urge first took over, and it was noted that after this, they tried to fight it off a few times unsuccessfully before giving in fully and entering the Cult of Bhaal.

Further, we also know that Durge has often not been in control of themself while committing murders, though they were for some, too. For Alfira or Quill's murder, they explicitly say it was in their sleep; if they get Steelclaw killed, they have no memory of doing it; if they choose to go to sleep rather than warn their lover after sparing Isobel, they'll wake to find their partner dead.

This suggests to me that in addition to the Urge itself, it is very possible that at times, Bhaal directly possessed Durge to make sure they killed in situations Bhaal wanted them to- particularly when Bhaal wanted them to experience bloodlust, and was angry they seemed to have forgotten this part of themselves.

So... piercing all of this together, we have my heartbreaking headcanon for resist!Durge, and especially for my Durge Kiaran.

Durge/Kiaran was taken in by a loving foster family. They loved to play and were sweet- which angered Bhaal. He needed his spawn to feel bloodlust.

So Bhaal possessed them and made them murder the very family that took them in, quite possibly including a newborn sibling. Durge started to develop an appetite for killing, as Bhaal planned, and was also overcome with grief and self-loathing, feeling they were a monster- which Bhaal also planned. Bhaal made sure the Urge persisted, and all the while, Scleritas kept appearing to taunt and guide them towards their "real family," a group of murderers who understood them better than anyone else.

Feeling there was nothing else a monster like them could do but embrace their nature, Durge finally entered the cult, rose through its ranks, and became feared and admired for their ability to create mountains of bodies. All the while, though, they loathed themselves, feeling that even their worst, most torturous deaths were a better fate than sharing the world with them.

After the Nautiloid, Bhaal tried to reignite Durge's bloodlust with more forced murders, but the brain damage from Orin had truly severed the part of themself that had given in to Bhaal, allowing them to fight back the Urge and become their own person at last.

It fits in so well with the game's themes of gods being willing to completely and utterly fuck over even their worshippers just to get what they want, and many other themes the game hits on too (especially trauma, loss, and accountability for past actions counterbalanced with the ability to change, grow, and be better.)

[bright-omens]

Ineffable Bureaucracy Headcanons

How I feel Beelzebub and Gabriel would be in their relationship :)

Beelzebub's main love language is gift giving, obviously

I feel like Gabriel's is quality time or acts of service

That being said, they both strike me as the type of people to be very touchy and physical

You know that one couple that just can't keep their hands off each other for five seconds? Yeah, that's them

I saw a post saying that they hc that they didn't actually go to alpha centauri and just went to Edinburgh to fuck with the humans, and honestly? Yeah

I can see them being the couple that everyone knows

Like, everyone in Edinburgh knows about the weird goth and their nerdy ass boyfriend, and they know to not fuck with them

If anyone were to hit on Beelzebub, Gabriel knows that Beelzebub can handle themself, but he also wouldn't pass up the chance to be passive aggressive

"Aren't they attractive? I know they're so attractive. That's why they're my partner. Now, can you leave us alone? We're on a date :)"

Now, if Gabriel was getting hit on, that motherfucker is dead

"Hey, Bee, where did that person go? The one that was being really nice and asking for my 'number.' Whatever that is"

"Oh, they may or may not be dead somewhere"

"Cool :D"

Gabriel can see when other people are hitting on Beelzebub but he doesn't know when he's getting hit on

I feel like on one hand they wouldn't get a house because neither of them would see the point in it, but I also feel like Beelzebub would pester Gabriel into getting one because they're so used to being able to just lounge around and having things (because of how crowded Hell is)

Gabriel wouldn't understand it at all, but he would get a house if it meant making Beelzebub happy

Gabriel definitely starts giving in to human things, like certain foods and drinks, and maybe even sleeping

He would only sleep if it meant cuddles with Beezlebub

If Bee's not there, he's not sleeping

Beelzebub is the big spoon. Gabriel loves being held

But, when Beelzebub wants to be the little spoon, Gabriel is more than okay with being the big spoon

They're such a holdable size for him, so how can he say no?

Gabriel would hear about Valentine's day and go all out

A bouquet of flowers, chocolate, fancy and cheesy card, cute date. Everything

Beelzebub thinks it's adorable and dorky

When they're out in public they'd protect all the flies

It would start because Gabriel would insist on making sure humans didn't kill them because "it's wrong to kill" we all know it's because he loves his fly partner though

And then Beelzebub slowly got into it because they were used to seeing humans kill flies constantly, but Gabriel is just too cute for them to resist and it's not like they could stop him

They'd just be really sweet and wholesome with each other (but if anyone else talks to them, they're complete dicks lol)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

THREE DESIGN COMBO

Sorry if these designs aren't really as distorted as they could've possibly been, this is honestly my first time drawing all three,

also some poor guy seeing this tall ass beast with sharp teeth(sabertooth) kill a full grown moose

Oh. My. Mother of Pearl...

They're absolutely PERFECT!!!!

I love their fluffiness, they're all just big fluffy guys checking on their poor kit who's starting to realize there's more going on-

Wolverine looks so small and deadly (and like he just saw Becky!)! His eyes are bright white, his stance tense and ready to attack, and can become even sharper and deadlier and pokier if he feels threatened (or is protecting someone). The colors are spot on! At first his head could be mistaken for an owl by some late night hiker or burglar... only to discover it is attached to this creature, who immediately jumpscares them.

Sabretooth is so tall and thin and looks like a sleep paralysis demon (yeah, he more or less forced himself through, he missed his kit). His teeth are extra sharp and pointy, his eyes promise danger, his arms are sharp and large and could crush a man, and he can bring fown a f*cking moose ad well as a bear (poor hiker has an accident after seeing him, and Sabretooth happily brings the fresh meat back to his kit's home, they need to eat more-!). Yep. The fluff, the claws, the feral energy- you nailed it down completely!

And Beast... he's so fluffy!!! His fur is pointer, his teeth are showing and almost tusk like, his hands and feet are even bigger now, and even though he looks like he could kill you, wants nothing more than to hug Reader to death. His poor seet kit! How could they be tossed away so carelessly, given pills that poisoned them amd took away their gifts, and left eith no memory of themself or them? He's trying not to cry as he pets them and hums some Mozart, flipping through a book quietly and shusbing anyone else who came through (the baby needs sleep, and they need lots of it, with the way their body is going back to normal amd fighting itself to be rid of the poison). He's so big and fluffy!!!!

( @thewickedweiner Cube Anon. You did, so awesome. Look at your works, and pat yourself on the back. For never drawing them before, you did Fantastic! Which character so far is your favorite, and which one is your favorite to draw?)

[midnightsun-if]

What would the Ros' reaction be like when killing someone to protect Mc?

Koda: "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he murmurs, gently lowering the body to the ground. The sentiment coming from anyone else would have rung false, but a sincerity lurks within his soft brown gaze that made the bittersweet truth all the more apparent. He knows that if it ever came down to protecting his mate or not taking a life, he'd choose his mate every time, but that didn't make the heaviness on his chest any lighter. "My mama always taught me that you only kill what you need to. Never more than that, because the universe will be unbalanced, and it'll end up righting itself by coming back to haunt you." Koda shakes his head, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry that your death became a necessity."

Scarlett: Blood had never tasted so sweet. Droplets of crimson fall down alabaster fingers as Scarlett grips what remained of the throat she had just torn out, a snarl etched across an elegant face, full lips pulled back in the beginning of a primal growl, fangs coated in red. "Did you think that I wouldn't hunt you? That I wouldn't tear this world apart in order to find the insolent little worm that thought it was okay to harm her?" Her grip tightens, delighting in the strangled gurgle of pain the action causes, as she brings the insipid creature closer. "Your gravest error, besides hurting her, was thinking you'd ever be able to escape. I would let cities turn to ash if it meant I could bask in the warmth the fire cast with her by my side. I would bring ruin and damnation upon the gods themselves, even if it meant I was cast to hell, because I would know what it felt like to have heaven in my arms." Scarlett cocks her head to the side, the ghost of a sardonic smirk appearing briefly. "Taking your life? Is the smallest of sacrifices that I'm willing to make for my heart."

Cyrus/Cyra: A Healer. You're a Healer. The words ring through their mind, sounding vaguely like their grandfather, as they stare at the body in front of them, blood staining the ground in a horrific display; a shade that matched the brilliant vermillion hue that their own eyes had become, soft gold being eclipsed by fiery red. A Healer. You're a Healer. It's a sentiment that echoes tauntingly as they watch the light leave the other's eyes, a grim melancholy settling over them because they know that a single drop of a golden tear would have prevented it. "I am," they whisper, their grip on the still pristine fabric of their pants tightening further. "I am a Healer but before that, before anything, I am theirs."

Quinn: Should have made them suffer. Made them scream. Their wolf snarls, clearly angry at the lack of Quinn's "proper" response to the threat that had been imposed upon their mate. "Enough," Quinn orders, a growl working its way into their voice. They could envision their wolf clearly; the large form pacing in the mental prison Quinn had entrapped it in. "We're not like our family. We're better. We do not do what they would have done." Sapphire blue eyes glint dangerously underneath the moonlight, a sharpness hardening the usually calm expression. They know their words would do little to appease their wolf -- not when it was in hunt mode -- but Quinn would never let themself become what they had once been. "Besides," they continue, their eyes taking in the mangled form before them. "I think we made them suffer plenty."

Caden: Despite their personal feelings on the individual perishing before them, Caden would never forsake their sworn duty -- something that had given them a purpose for so long; their only one, if they were being honest with themself. Until you came along. Silver eyes, a haunting shade of argent in the moonlight, meet the dimming gaze of the person they had just killed, an icy chill working itself out from their chest as they grasp a slackening cheek. "It's alright," they intone, voice carrying sharply across the gentle breeze, wrapping itself within the very sounds of nature. "You can rest now."

Sloane: Harsh breaths escape chapped lips, almost panting due to the exertion, as bloodily bruised fists continue to slam into the figure that had tried to take their everything from them. They had already lost their home once; they weren't about to let some asshole, with a superiority complex and a penchant to not know what was good for them, take the one they had only just found. Stop. Enough. The command from their wolf, harsh in its softness, would normally be ignored, shrugged off like an annoying gnat that still persisted to invade their personal space, but their bone-deep tiredness, coupled by their own fears, causes them to finally halt their movements. Hazel eyes honing in on the mess they had made, but they can't bring themself to feel too bad. Not if it meant that you'd be okay, that you'd be safe, due to their actions.

Blake: A small grimace flits across their features, violet eyes narrowed in disgust as they observe the small flecks of red that had suddenly decided to reside on their silk shirt. "That's just unsanitary," they mutter, sending a sharp glare towards the still form before them. "It didn't have to happen, you know? Wouldn't have cared if you had gone after anyone else, but you had to go after them." They settle on their haunches, a snarl twisting their typically docile expression. "And that?" Blake shakes their head; blonde curls being displaced on their forehead. "That is simply unforgivable."

Reginald/Regina: "I-I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry." The knife, still stained a nauseating crimson, falls from their laxed grip, the clatter of it striking the ground only a dulcet sound compared to the static that had begun to build within their ears. Nausea swirled within their stomach, anguish squeezing their throat in a vice grip, as tears steadily begin to make a trail down their face. Pain, unlike anything they had ever felt before, rips through their chest like the knife had only done a moment before to the figure laying prone on the ground. I had to do it. I had to protect them. I didn't have a choice. They slowly sink to the ground, shaking hands tearing at their hair. I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a cho--

[authorred]

To Love Kaz Brekker | Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader | Shadow and Bone | Part 2

Masterlist

Preface: A botched solo mission leaves you injured and forced to kill to escape. You enter the Crow Club in a hurry and don’t talk to anyone. You isolate yourself in your room so you can fix yourself, but someone decides to make his presence known outside your door.

Kaz Brekker is a different kind of ‘love from a distance’ yk

Part 1 Part 3

Warning(s): Mild injuries, mentions of blood, description of injuries

Tags: Softcore pining, awkward interaction, losers in love

To love another is no easy feat. It takes patience and trust. Respect and compassion. To be able to wait for someone through a finite storm is an ability not everyone has, nor wants. But you have it. And you’ll wait through any severity of weather, even if there’s no promise of a rainbow at the end.

Hobbling to your room like a battered old woman, you made sure to cover yourself with a cloak you took off a merchant before your arrival. Jesper and Inej observe you skirt around the Crow Club, hugging the side walls before scurrying up to your room. The sharpshooter and wraith share a look before shrugging. They’ll check in on you later and they know better than to annoy a heartrender.

You shrug off your outer clothes and examine your wound through the shredded fabric of your shirt. Some shitbag nailed you right in the torso with a bullet. Luckily, he didn’t hit anywhere vital, but it still hurt, and you’re still bleeding. With a soft grunt you untie your shirt and carefully peel it away from your body. A clean entry wound presents itself at the front of your torso and you’ve no doubt the exit wound looks worse.

With a sigh, you carefully sit down on a chair, grunting lightly when you irritate the injury. Looking down at yourself, you carefully start to weave your tissue and muscles back together, face cringing lightly from the feeling. It didn’t hurt because you were blocking pain receptors, but it felt weird to your other nerves. The squirming and sewing-together of your insides felt equivalent to sliding your hand through a large trough of mucus-covered meat. You wanted to shiver but you couldn’t. 

Sewing together your entrance wound took an agonizingly long time. If it was on someone else, you could’ve done it in ten minutes. Perhaps it was due to the fact there’s no rush; you’re safe in the Crow Club (hopefully). The real issue is trying to do the exit wound, which is almost directly behind you. You’ll need mirrors and very flexible shoulders.

Standing and shuffling around your room, you manage to assemble a doable set up--with a standing mirror behind you and a wall mirror in front of you. You adjust both to be able to see your exit wound--which is as gnarly as you thought. You sigh deeply and bring your arms behind your back, attempting twist your wrists so your palms are facing your body. You succeed, but it’s extremely uncomfortable, and you already hurt from being shot.

That’s when you hear it. A strong, steady heartbeat outside your room. No one announces themself--no one knocks--but they’re standing there. You know who it is. You know why they’re there.

“Kaz,” you call out. “People can suffer in silence, you know. You have to see them to know if they’re okay.” A few seconds pass and you know Kaz is thinking. You turn your head to the door when it slowly starts to creak open. 

When Kaz opens the door enough to walk into your room, he immediately looks to the side when he sees you in undergarments. You can see him swallow nervously and his heart picks up speed a little. 

You look back at your reflection. “You should be coming up with a new plan with Inej and Jesper. I didn’t fail, but I did alarm. And that’ll cause problems.”

“The planning can wait until you’re fixed.”

“I’m already halfway there.” Your wrists and hands flex uncomfortably when you move them, soft grunts leaving you. “I’ll be patched up by the time you’re done.”

Kaz sneaks a glance at you, eyes lingering on the wound you’re trying to patch up. Then his gaze moves to your arms and hands, which are in a specific position that makes you look like a demon’s possessed you. You’re succeeding; he can see your wound being manipulated and the hole getting smaller, but you’re struggling. Swallowing, he takes an unsteady step forward until he finds himself traipsing over to you.

You pause your heartrending when you see his reflection standing behind yours. You blink, then slowly turn your head to look at him. “What? You can’t help with this.”

He’s struggling to keep your gaze as it switches between your eyes and down at your arms. Picking up his cane to hold between his arm and side, he slowly reaches out to gently press his gloved hands against your arms.

Your brows scrunch when you’re trying to figure out what he’s doing. He’s not grabbing your arms, rather he’s supporting them. He’s taking tension from your shoulders.

You turn your head back around and continue to heartrend yourself, having an easier time than before. You’re painfully aware of his close proximity to you--you’re insanely aware of his physical contact as well. You can feel him shaking and you can hear his heart racing.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say quietly. “Your heart is racing. Please move away if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” his response is slightly forced and shaky. “Stop listening to my heart and focus on fixing yourself.”

You sigh softly and try your best to fix yourself as fast as you can. You cringe lightly when you reach a particularly painful part of your body where you didn’t block the pain receptors. You let out a strained grunt in response and you can see Kaz’s eyes look at you in concern from the mirror.

“I’m fine,” you quickly say. “It just hurt a little. I’m almost done.”

Kaz nods and looks back down at your hands and back, silent.

You’re done in two minutes and as soon as you are, you move away from him to keep him from being uncomfortable. You turn to him and smile softly. “You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve managed.”

Kaz places his cane back on the floor and leans on it. “You got done faster though, didn’t you?”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding. “I suppose I did. Thank you.”

Kaz attempts a small smile, but it’s almost indiscernible--it looks like a weird wince. “We meet at the bar in ten.” He turns and walks to the door. “Jesper and Inej are wondering if you’re okay.”

“Tell them I’m fine and I’ll be down in five.”

Kaz nods, not turning to look at you. He closes the door on his way out and you can hear his heartbeat move farther and farther from your room.

You notice how it’s faster than before.

You notice how yours is faster than his.

Ah, yes. To love Kaz Brekker is no easy feat.

[harmlessghosty]

Saw the vamp!touchstarved character braunrote and I offer my opinions:

Vampire Vere would be ruthless before he really falls in love with reader. He's greedy and wouldn't think twice about draining someone. But tbh I think when he gets close/serious with reader he'd still be greedy and messy and shit but he'd drink readers blood like it's fine wine. He gets his main fix from other victims but really savours reader. Expect it to be extremely bloody tho, he likes it to look like a crime scene xD

Leander for sure tries to kinda hide it. Not hardcore, bit he tries not to tell EVERYONE. He won't go our of his way but also you wouldn't know by just looking at him. I also think he'd be hesitant to drink from his SO and would make it way romantic, or at least he'd try

Mhin would go out of their way to hide that their a vampire. Would NEVER EVER dream of drinking from a person. They and up having to do it but they won't be happy. Also if their SO asked for them to drink their blood Mhin would refuse 100 times before agreeing. Feels very bad that they actually enjoyed it.... Might have gone a bit overboard too (vere did find out and tease them to hell and back fs)

I don't have much on Ais and Kuras rn cause... Brain empty

VAMPIRE TOUCHSTARVED BRAINROT, LET’S GOOOO! I love love LOVE all of your headcanons. Absolutely love them.

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Vampire Vere would definitely not think twice about murder. MC would find him dabbing at his crimson lips with bloodstained, monogrammed handkerchiefs more often than not. And when he wants to feed from his beloved? It’s an entire show he puts on. They get a candlelit room, a nice hot meal, tons of fluffy pillows and blankets…the whole nine yards, before he leans so close, his breath runs across the nape of their neck. “You smell delightful,” he whispers, a firm kiss pressing to their skin. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I eat after all of this preparation I’ve done for you, hm?”

Leander DEFINITELY tries to hide it. There are rumors, of course, swirling around Eridia, but no one really knows what’s true and what’s not. Turns out, being a contracted killer really helps conceal his vampiric identity! He can easily do away with bodies and no one will ask questions. Why do criminals keep appearing with two holes in the same spot on their neck? Weird. Maybe someone should hire Leander to look into that and find the culprit…and of course, he’ll take MC along for the journey, which seems a bit more roundabout than it should be. If he needs to feed during the trip, then perhaps they’re a good source of sustenance. After all, does it matter if his beloved knows his secret? They won’t tell a soul unless they’re trying to get themselves mysteriously killed too…

Mhin would never drink from a person…unless they’re absolutely starving to death. Even then, I imagine it to be a moment of disgust with themself—retching and vomiting the first few times they feed, then admitting they need to drink blood for their survival and doing it as humanely as possible. They knock out their victims and only drink until the hunger has barely subsided. They choose spots beneath clothes where marks could be mistaken for bug bites. Mhin struggles to admit they like MC’s blood more than anyone else’s; they really wish they didn’t, but they can’t get enough of it, to the point that they find it difficult to sleep beside them at night without absentmindedly running their fangs along MC’s skin. They’re just so hungry around their partner. Maybe…just a little sip…

Ais is a voracious beast and doesn’t try to hide his vampiric nature even a little bit. Everyone knows he’s dangerous, and everyone avoids him like the plague. And naturally, Ais with Vere is…horrifying. There’s a lot of begging for him to give mercy and let them live, but he’s no fool. If he lets too many of his victims live, then surely people will find a way to gang up on him. While that’s an interesting proposition, he’s not sure he wants to fight a dozen weak-ass humans when he’d much rather fight someone of his own caliper; humans are just too pathetic. When he meets MC, he’s constantly teasing them with flashes of his long fangs. “Scared? Should be, little sparrow,” he says, scrubbing dried blood off of his knuckles. He even sneaks up to feed from them, thinking MC will just be another victim, but somehow becomes smitten with their taste instead. They should be savored. It’s much more satisfying tasting them on occasion than devouring them whole so quickly.

Kuras is meticulous. He’s very much prone to drawing blood through proper means and drinking it from simple testing tubes in shot-like doses. If a patient needs a transfusion or a blood test, he’ll simply take an extra vial or two as payment. Yes, he feels guilty at first, but he can’t allow himself to starve when he needs to help the people of Eridia as a consequence of his terrible past. When MC is discovered practically bled out and armless, he makes sure to put them back together and doesn’t take a sample, not even a little, but he strongly considers it. He even has to wipe drool from his lips because they simply smell so strongly of beautiful blood. When they get closer to him and realize his true nature, he offers little more than a calm smile. “Would you like to sustain me as well, or do you prefer our current partnership instead?”