photosbybeanz

[witchofthemidlands]

if there was ever an anniversary to celebrate the creation of the master or a multimaster episode all i will say is that they would serve. it would be so unhinged.

[hannieehaee]

aaah hi !!! what about .. mingyu being so pussydrunk he practically begs for u to cum again and again … :33

18+ / mdi

content: pussydrunk!mingyu, softdom!mingyu (but also subby!gyu idk), afab reader, smut, oral, dry humping, mentions of penetrative sex, mentions of cum eating, etc.

wc: 796

a/n: the long awaited return of pussydrunk!mingyu<3

masterlist

"just one more, baby, fuck. please. one more,"

"c'mon, pretty. just let me- let me make you feel good."

"such a pretty pussy, fuck ... need it again ..."

"give me this pretty pussy, baby, please ... need your cunt so fucking bad ..."

the boy's endless pleas were almost inaudible from between your legs as he refused to let his lips wander too far from your cunt. his heavy breath hit your pussy as he continued to beg at you to let him have you again – to let him lick and kiss you to completion and smear his face with your juices once more.

the sight between your legs was nothing less than a complete mess. mingyu stared up at you with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed with half of his face covered in your juices. his hair was facing in all directions from the pulling you'd been doing during the past hour. yet he continued to beg for you, forcing his head back between your legs any time you'd grow too sensitive and attempt to pry him again.

"just one more, angel. just wanna make you cum one more time," he swore with a pained look in his eye.

with tearful eyes, you nodded, not trusting your voice to give him permission to bury his face between your legs once more. but he didnt need verbal confirmation as he thanked you breathlessly and buried his nose into your cunt.

his tongue came out to sneak between your lips, light in his movements before passion took over and made him begin dragging his tongue in and out of you with fervor. you shuddered when his nose dragged through your folds, causing him to groan into your cunt and drag your hips even closer to him for a better angle.

while you had been very vocal in your pleasure the last few orgasms, you could no longer let out any noise other than pathetic whines and weak sobs. mingyu managed to make more noise than you, groaning out praise against your cunt and encouraging the pressing of your legs around his face.

"prettiest cunt ... fuck, need this gorgeous cunt every day," he whined as he slowed down his tongue, pointing it to tease at your clit.

"fuck, i know baby, it's so good, isn't it? pretty cunt needs my tongue? like this?", he breathed out when you began whining even louder for him, pushing his head further between your legs.

"g-gyu ..."

"it's okay, pretty. just wanna make you gush all over my face. be good and cum for me again, yeah? let me make that pussy cry for me," he encouraged with a groan, words mumbled and almost inaudible due to his proximity to your cunt.

"g-gonna cum, g-gyu. please, i-"

"shh, baby. just cum all over my face, pretty. let me lick you all up, pretty."

it didnt take much more encouragement for you to let yourself go, crying out when your orgasm finally took over all while you pushed and pulled at him, body unsure of how to react at the sensitivity you felt at your nth orgasm of the night.

mingyu's insistence in continuing to lick at you as you went through your high had tears streaming down your face, unable to catch your breath as you filled the room with high-pitched gasps. this only amplifies mingyu's hunger for you, causing him to rub his tongue and nose into your cunt with even more intensity, leading to an endless cycle of lewd sounds and whines from both you and him.

when your high finally subsided, mingyu disconnected from you, allowing you to finally fall back on the bed as he climbed over you, kissing up your body without bothering to even wipe his face from your essence. he made his way to your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth while he murmured praise to your cunt in between kisses. far too soon, his hard cock began making contact with your sensitive cunt, making you gasp into his lips.

he simply took advantage of your open mouth, suckling at your tongue as he ground into you. you couldnt help yourself in encouraging him, playing with his hair and kissing back to the best of your ability.

"don't worry, pretty. gonna fuck that pretty pussy now, okay? gonna fill you up and, and then 'm gonna lick it all off you," he murmured, "gonna eat that pretty pussy til you're begging me to stop," he promised.

your desire for him overpowered your exhaustion, making you nod mindlessly at him with a pained look in your eye, which you knew only drove him even more lustful.

the night would be long and exhausting, but fulfilling your boyfriend's pussydrunkness soon became your priority, falling victim to your own lust for him.

[loganwritesprobably]

Chronic Pain

Content/Warnings: Crocodile/GN!Reader, pre-slash, Reader has chronic pain, Reader is a Buggy pirate

Notes: This is very self indulgent but hopefully people will enjoy

It was hard sometimes, life as a pirate. Even now that you were grounded, on land 90% of the time at Karai Bari, it was hard. The difference between being at sea and being on land was minimal when it came to you, you even still slept in a hammock.

You were a Buggy pirate at heart and you always would be, but since Crocodile had arrived you'd grown increasingly close. He'd decided you were the "least incompetent" amongst the crew and so when he needed a task to be completed that either couldn't be done by Daz or he'd be "wasted" on it, he sought you out to complete it instead. You didn't mind so much. Manual labour work had always been hard for you and while Buggy understood you did feel useless, and often that meant you overworked yourself and caused yourself more harm than necessary. Work for Crocodile was rarely of that nature.

Delivering letters, collecting the paper from the news coo, reading paperwork and contracts for him, confirming kills of marines, posting new bounties - they were less straining. But, some days there was nothing he needed you for, and so you'd default back to your Captain's side and do what he needed.

Yesterday had been like that. You'd found the crew working hard, asked where you needed, and you simply joined them. First was moving a new shipment from the docks to the big top, then was transporting some of the new shipment to different areas of the island, then erecting a new tent, then moving old and broken materials to another part of the island for disposal. It'd been a lot of heavy lifting and walking, which was awful for your joints, but you'd gotten on with the work despite the discomfort.

Today, you were in awful pain. You'd managed to make it to breakfast with a grimace on your face and a small limp, and the crew had been worried. You'd intended to ignore it, until Cabaji snitched on you to Buggy, who sent you back to bed to rest. He'd scolded you, but he'd done it gently and with concern. He struggled with pain too, and yet he never seemed to stop, so you'd called him a hypocrite under your breath before retreating to your hammock to take a nap. You'd been tired anyway.

You were woken again not even an hour later by Crocodile himself, who had apparently been looking for you to get some work done for him. Daz Bones was elsewhere, and so he'd had to find you personally.

"Sir?" You asked, rubbing a hand over your face with a yawn. You enjoyed the short few moments of bliss before your pain kicked in again.

"Why are you still sleeping?" He asked harshly, and you sat up slowly, brows furrowed as you concentrated on not falling while trying to ignore your pain.

"Sorry sir. Captain Buggy sent me back to bed this morning to rest, but I can be ready in ten minutes if I'm needed." You replied, ready to do whatever was needed. You liked Crocodile a lot, more than you probably should, you were only too happy to assist him.

"Why the hell would he do that?" Crocodile questioned with a sneer, looking you up and down as if scanning for injuries.

"I have chronic pain, sir. I overworked myself yesterday and woke this morning in more pain than usual. But, I'm prepared to work if you need me." You wanted to be honest, because you didn't doubt that Crocodile would be able to identify a lie immediately, but you also didn't want to lose his favour. Those quiet afternoons you spent together both doing paperwork had a special place in your heart. Crocodile regarded you for a long moment, considering his next steps. All you could do was sit and not wither under his gaze.

"I understand the feeling," he said after a moment, words clipped as if he didn't really want to be talking about it, "don't push yourself so hard. I'll speak with Buggy about having you work with me full time, doing less strenuous things." Crocodile nodded once he was done, mostly to himself, pleased with the course of action.

"Whatever you'd like, sir. I'm happy to help." You replied, and you were in fact only took happy to do what he'd suggested. You could see the way Crocodile chewed the inside of his cheek with uncertainty for a moment, a side effect of not having a cigar in his mouth, and then he shook his head and returned to himself.

"Yes, well. Rest today, captain's orders, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." And then he turned and left before you could respond or argue.

You had a lot of mornings with Crocodile in your future, it would appear.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[hvman-scvm]

Hear me out,,, snuffed ! 141 x snuff filmmaker ! Reader.

Massive CW 4 general things you'd expect of a snuff film. Dark content ahead. (No r//pe or s/a) Maybe OOC ?

Price is the first one you planned 2 get rid of; he'd bring you less money anyways considering he's older than most of yr other victims. But man, was he fun. He put up one hell of a fight, cursing and fighting against the restraints.

It made you laugh.

You didn't bother too much with him, knowing tht the film you'll make out of him won't b as high demand as yr other ones. But you still made sure 2 have yr fun. You knew he was a captain, and the superiority you felt after you finally caught him and bound him 2 the metal chair was unmatched.

The tape was a mere 22 minutes 37 seconds of content; after a while he just.. stopped fighting back. He was clearly exhausted, and he knew it wld result in nothing but more of yr mean laughter. It was the shortest tape you've evr made. No fun in it if yr victim isn't giving you reactions.

So you quickly put an end to his life and painted the walls with his brain matter.

Then there was Soap, he was even more fun than his beloved captain. W his constant cursing at you laced in a thick Scottish accent, and his pretty blue eyes glaring daggers at the camera tht you pointed 2wards him B4 setting it on its stand, grabbing his face and making sure he looks directly 2wards it.

But soon his demeanor began 2 break. It may have taken a few hours of torture, but it was so worth it.

He begun crying freely at the pain, he's faced a lot of it in his career; bullet wounds, stab wounds, blunt force- if you can name it, he's experienced it at least once. But none of it compares 2 this, 2 the pain you've been inflicting on him the past few hours.

A day of on-off torture was all it took 4 you 2 get bored. He was getting weak n tired, slipping in an out of consciousness. He simply wasn't fun anymore.

So his life was ended w a slash 2 the throat. His vacant eyes staring blankly at the still running camera.

And Ghost, oh boy. He barely reacted, barely flinching when you cut his mask w yr knife n ripped it off his face. He was quite the looker, you can't lie. He barely reacted 2 yr torture; refusing 2 give you the satisfaction. But you were determined, n you weren't gna stop until you hear a sob.

All tht came frm him were grunts and hisses, no matter what kind of torture you inflicted on his big, scarred body. He just wanted this 2 b over w, hoping you'd get bored n end his life so tht he doesn't have 2 endure any of his pain anymore. Both the pain you were causing and the pain tht came w being Simon Riley.

But after 7 hours, after you took a break n he barely regained consciousness, you finally got what you want. You had slammed down the hammer in2 his thigh, determined 2 break the one bones thts hardest 2 break. Thts when he finally yelped in pain. More noises kept spilling out of his throat as you slammed the hammer over n over again against his thigh in hopes of breaking his femur.

You had kept him 4 a week, made 3 tapes of him, and currently filming his 4th- and last- one. You had used the same gammer you attempted 2 break his femur w, n bashed his head in until it was mush.

Then there was yr little snuff prince, as you had lovingly nicknamed him, Gaz. He refused 2 look at you, nor the camera. Just kept his head down the whole time. His eyes were so pretty as you lifted his head 2 look at you. What you weren't expecting, however, was 4 him 2 spit right on yr face.

You loved it. Loved his reactions. Loved how pretty he was.

You knew he was going 2 help you make a high demand film. How cld any1 resist seeing a man as pretty as him get tortured within an inch of his life ?

You made multiple films of him, he was yr only victim tht lasted this long. But good things must come 2 an end.

His fate was hanging. He was too weak 2 fight you as you put the noose arnd his neck. You adored the coughing n gasping tht left him as he was lifted in the air, his legs kicking blindly B4 tensing and eventually going limp. You watched w glee as the life slowly left his eyes, n made sure the camera was close enough 2 pick up on tht.

[mrsshabana]

Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 2

Chapter 1

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Dead dove: do not eat. Non-con, smut, violence, manipulation, mentions of mental illness. ✦ AN: This chapter has disturbing scenes with graphic violence and non-consensual sex. Please read all of the content warnings before continuing.

✦ WC: 1,808

“Good morning Mr.Shabana,” you chime, smiling brightly, bringing a tray with his breakfast into the room.

He stares at you as if he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide, skin pale, breathing at a halt.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” you ask as you set his food down on the table.

“I-It’s nothin’...” 

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours Mr.Shabana, feel free to call for me if you need anything in the meantime,” shooting him another kind smile before you exit the room.

His stare drills holes into your back as he watches you leave. He hasn’t felt this annoyed by a new nurse in years. Could it be that you are mocking him?

Pushing his food to the side, he clenches his teeth in frustration. He thought he got rid of you for good. You’re the first nurse that has stayed after he pulled that antic. It always works. But why didn’t it work on you? 

He’ll have to come up with another way to get rid of you.

After the first day with Gyutaro, you vowed to do everything in your power to help him heal his physical and mental wounds. Making sure to be kind, considerate, and paying close attention to his needs. The next few days have been surprisingly pleasant. No outbursts or insults coming from him like they once had before. He still doesn’t talk to you, hell he barely even acknowledges you. But it’s better than being assaulted every time you enter his room. 

Though you still get that gut feeling that you're in danger every time you are around him. Your hair stands on end and your hands get sweaty. But for the sake of doing your job, you ignore the warnings from your body. 

And it seems your persistence is paying off. As your keen eye quickly picked up on some of Gyutaro’s behavior. He only eats pre-packaged food. Why? You have no idea. Might be from some past trauma… maybe you’ll look back into his therapy notes later. 

But it’s quite odd. Every time you bring him his meals, he only eats the pre-packaged foods included in his meal. Usually things like cookies and muffins. He can’t be getting more than 500 calories a day. 

So, you start going out of your way to buy healthier pre-packaged foods for him. Things like canned tuna, beans, and sometimes potato chips from the vending machine. He’ll only eat it if you give it to him unopened. You want to ask him why he eats like this, but you figure he most likely won’t answer. Plus you don’t want to risk setting him off again. 

Your kindness really pisses him off. But he doesn’t hate when you bring him things he’s actually willing to eat. Surprisingly, he doesn’t think much of it. He’s not impressed that you figured out a way to get him to eat, because to him there was no trick. He wasn’t trying to be difficult. It’s just how he is. He won’t eat certain things and he has specific reasons for doing so. However, he isn’t grateful either. He could care less if he starved to death. But it is nice having a full stomach for once. He’s finally starting to feel a bit better, as his strength begins to return. Though, you may soon regret it.

.・゜゜・　♰　・゜゜・．

“Mr. Shabana, are you ready?” You knock on his door and peek inside to see him sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Mm hm,” he nods and stands. His lanky frame towering above you as he follows you out of the room. 

Today is Gyutaro’s hydrotherapy session, recommended to be given once every two weeks by his doctor. 

And since Gyutaro has been deemed to be a danger to himself, he must be supervised during the session.

You can feel him staring at you as he follows you to the sauna room. You swear his gaze is so spiteful that it causes you physical pain. Every part of your body is screaming at you as you unlock the door and open it for him. But surely you’re just overreacting right? It’s been over a week now with no incident at all. You finally feel as though you are making progress with him, and you aren’t willing to let go of that progress just because of a gut instinct. 

“Alright, remove your clothes and I’ll start the bath,” you say as you walk over to the hydrotherapy tub.

He doesn’t respond, but you hear shuffling behind you. Assuming that he’s getting himself ready, you get on your knees and adjust the temperature of the bath. Watching as the water slowly rises and steam fills the room. 

Dipping a finger into the water to check the temperature, it feels pleasantly hot. 

“There we go,” you smile, “Your bath is ready Mr.Sha-” You begin to turn around but in the blink of an eye your face is engulfed in heat. It all happens so fast, you don’t register what’s going on.

All you know is you can’t breathe, and it’s too hot. 

Holding on to the edge of the tub, you try to push yourself up and out of the water. But a strong grip on your neck is preventing you from doing so. 

You finally begin to realize the gravity of the situation when you feel Gyutaro’s body pressed up against you. He keeps his hand firmly grasped around the back of your neck, holding your head under the water. And with his other hand he roughly lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties.

“Stop strugglin’ or else I’ll break your fuckin’ neck,” Gyutaro growls under his breath. 

Not only does he hate you because he finds your kindness incredibly annoying, but he also hates you because of how horny you make him. Seeing you in that short skirt every damn day. He gets hard every time you enter his room, and his throbbing cock becomes so persistent that he has to jerk himself off or else he’ll be in a bad mood the entire day.

How dare you tease him like this. Well he’ll show you. 

He’ll get to kill two birds with one stone. Satisfying the aching in his pants, and getting rid of you for good. There’s no way you’ll stay after this.

Cackling, he pumps his cock a few times, readying himself at your entrance.

“This is what you get for always teasin’ me…” he grunts as he forcefully shoves his cock inside of you. It takes a few thrusts to bully himself fully inside, as you aren’t wet at all. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in half, it stings and burns as he forces his thick cock into your tight hole. 

Water fills your mouth as you scream under the water. You panic, and use all of the strength you have left flailing your arms behind you, trying to push him away. But he’s too strong, and he’s between your legs so you can't kick him either. 

“Stop it, slut” he shouts, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. 

After a few thrusts, you start to get a little wet. Not enough to make this comfortable for you, but enough that he’s able to plunge easier into you. 

Having been in an Asylum for so long, he’s never had the pleasure of sex before. And even though it’s something he’s fantasized about many times, he never could have imagined how good it’d feel. The way your pussy tightly clenches around him, he feels like he’s already getting close. 

Your face begins to lose color, and you stop struggling. The abuse on your pussy is dulled by the pounding in your skull. 

Gyutaro notices you’re beginning to lose consciousness. He really doesn’t care about you but if you died now, he’d never be able to fuck you again. And he’s already getting addicted to the feeling of being inside of you… it’d be such a shame if this was the only time he’d be able to use you.

He reluctantly pulls out of you, grabbing you by the hair and pulling your head out of the water. 

Instantly you cough up a bunch of water and gasp for air. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he watches you struggle to breathe. 

Water and saliva drips down your chin as you open your watery eyes. Your vision is blurry but you can make out his erect cock throbbing in front of you. No wonder it hurt so much, not only is he long but quite girthy as well. Decorated with black spots and large veins, there’s a ring of blood at its base.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him, “Well since you so kindly opened your mouth for me…” he grabs the base of his cock and forces you to take him into your mouth, “Might as well put it to good use.”

You cough and choke as he thrusts into your mouth, his leaking tip ramming against the back of your throat. Digging your nails into his thighs, trying to push him away to no avail. 

You hate to admit it, but you much rather have him abusing your throat than your pussy. But it doesn’t help that you’re still struggling to gasp for oxygen. Your lungs burn but you try your best to calm down and breath through your nose while you endure the torture. 

It doesn’t take long before you feel his cock twitch and his thrusts get sloppy. Just wanting this to be over as quickly as possible, you suck as fervently as you can. Twirling your tongue around his tip, taking him as deep as you can. 

“F-fuck…” he moans, cock twitching as he coats your throat in hot sticky cum. He tightly grips your hair as he rides out his high. 

Tears roll down your cheeks as you swallow his cum, not daring to look up at him. It tastes foul, salty, and bitter. It’s thick as it slowly slides down your throat.

He hisses as he pulls out of your mouth. A long string of saliva connecting from your swollen lips to the tip of his cock. 

He stands up and looks down at you. Grinning as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You can’t help but cry under his gaze, feeling completely humiliated and ruined. So disgusted with your own body that you don’t even feel like yourself anymore. 

“Pathetic whore,” he spits, his saliva landing on your cheek. Grinning in satisfaction as he pulls up his pants and puts his shirt back on. 

Without another word he walks out of the room, the heavy metal doors slamming behind him. Leaving you gasping for air on the floor, sore and bleeding from his abuse. 

Taglist: @gyusimp @sterzin @sassysaxsolo @gh0stedddd @cry-baby-stuff @hutchilli [If you asked to be added to the taglist and weren't, it may be because your tag didn't work when I searched for it. Or because you don't have your age listed on your blog]

[adaptacy]

If you are taking requests, I have a pairing that I do not ever see enough of: Gale x Durge. Specifically resisting the urge type Durge. Starved for content as I am, I’d be happy with whatever is written about the two. But I’d love something involving Durge nearly killing their lover or the reveal of Durge being one of the orchestrators of the Absolute plot. In game, those scenes feel far too underdeveloped.

Durge playthrough spoilers blow the cut (Shadow-cursed lands, Last Light Inn stuff. No act 3 spoilers)

so, I haven't gotten to that far into my durge playthru but I did get to the part where you try and kill your lover and to nobody's surprise that happened to be Gale!! i was actually kinda terrified that he was going to die bcs, in my defense, I did try to kill Isobel but Marcus or whatever-his-name-was got the last blow on her first and I was devastated that Gale was gonna have to pay the price for my low damage roll. in the end ofc it was worth it cause he tied my durge up and, I mean, who's gonna complain abt that??

ANYWAYS point is, yes, I agree, I wish that scene was more fleshed out too and I am more than happy to oblige and build on the scene that we were given! Also fun fact, I hadn't actually confirmed the relationship with Gale when this scene happened but the night directly after I tried to kill him he showed me his... 'tower'. And given how horny he gets watching tav/durge beat ppl up in the shadow cursed lands, i do not think that was a coincidence LMAO

No Sceleritas here cause I'm just gonna get to the good part :D — also durge here is gonna be sorta resisting the urge, but has more or less been allowing it to fester, just not embracing it.

Gorgeous was an understatement.

Busy days — waking hours occupied by wars, sight filled only with the flashes of spells and showers of blood — were all you knew. Nights were barely any break. Smiles were more common at camp, but given the near complete lack of smiles outside of camp, it wasn't saying much. There wasn't much time to be at camp, as the original mission to rid yourselves of the tadpoles grew messier and messier with every passing battle, and each matter was more pressing than the last.

You didn't mind, really. While you were just as eager to get the incubating creature out of your head as the rest of your group, each new quest and mission brought along with it the promise of bloodshed. Adrenaline. Victory. A momentary but exorbitantly satisfying quenching of your thirst for violence. A thirst you first found unsettling and terrifyingly unfamiliar.

When you first found yourself gazing down at the bloodied body of a stranger, dreaming of the torturous pain they must have felt when they met their fate, you were disgusted. Couldn't believe where your thoughts had wandered.

You'd fought it. Refrained from telling the others for fear of being ridiculed, or losing their trust, or scaring them. For a while, you'd fought it. But scarlet liquids, screams of terror, and slaughter had become your routine.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Peace. Security. Naivete.

One knee bent, the other lazily stretched out, the bedroll barely containing the length of his body. One hand under his head, the other by his side. His eyes were closed, the soft hazel only ever plagued by a buried longing was hidden from you now. His hair spread over one arm and on the thin straw pillow beneath his head, more messy than he'd ever let it be seen while he was awake.

His right cheekbone had a bruise on it from where he'd hit himself with the butt of his staff while swinging it, and you recalled finding time to chuckle at his mistake in the middle of the battle. Being a few feet away, he'd heard it, and couldn't help but look over at you, his cheeks red from more than the blunt force, his mouth pulled back in an embarrassed smile. The moment of shame had earned him a punch to the side from his opponent moments before Astarion managed to stick them with his own blade, saving Gale from a worse fate.

Even down here, far from the surface, it was warm enough — perhaps from the fire that burned a mere two, maybe three, feet away — for Gale to concede and discard his shirt, resting more comfortably in a pair of indigo pants.

He had been honest about his appetites. His cravings. He was hardly hesitant about revealing that part of himself to you — fortunately, he was plenty aware of the consequences that would be wrought upon you, and the rest of the group, should he risk being unable to consume artifacts if he kept his secret.

Even Astarion, who's affliction was much closer to your own, was honest about his needs. It took a lot longer, and you're not sure how things would have gone over had you not woken up the night he planned to feast on you, but his admission did occur.

You were aware of the risks of your secret. You always yearned for more, even when you were positively drenched in crimson, when you'd been messy enough in your strikes that bathing in the river the following evening caused the water around you to be tainted a diluted red. Everything was temporary. Even the satisfaction derived from fights that left your weapon with such thick clumps of gore that Gale had to hold the shaft while you scrubbed away, as if the fight itself hadn't been taxing enough on your exhausted body.

Yet they all remained unaware. Some picked up on it better than others; Lae'zel's compliments, however shallow they often were, had picked up in frequency as you allowed your hunger to get the best of you, undoubtedly giving you some heartless upper hand against the foes forced to face off against your party. Karlach found you delightful, affectionately doting over you as you imitated her own battle-induced rages, though she didn't quite pick up on your lingering stares or mild smirks when your appetite had been satisfied.

Gale was the closest to discovering the truth. Unsurprising, given your mutual favoritism for one another. When you'd butchered Alfira, you'd been quick to blame wolves. Shadowheart, immediately discomforted at the mention, believed you without a second thought. Lae'zel had jumped to blame the Tiefling's lack of defense. Astarion seemed unbothered at best. The others were too busy mourning the bard's early demise to ask questions.

But he'd found you later, kneeling by the river, just before bed. 'A devastating misfortune she suffered. A sweet, innocent soul. Misfortune is perhaps the only apt term for the loss. Terribly curious, it is — To be so savagely slaughtered by beasts that aren't even native to these woods.'

You remembered freezing, fear flashing in a quick rush across your vision, knowing his eyes were on you, studying your reaction. He was so close. You'd agreed — 'an unfortunate fate indeed' — and he'd said goodnight.

Never again was it brought up. Never again was it questioned.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

That was, perhaps, the worst misfortune of all. He had such undying curiosity about the world, and yet that curiosity never reached you, or your intentions, or your past. Too trusting.

The camp was quiet. Crackling flames, distant whispers from the shadows hanging just beyond the light's reach, and his soft, patterned, blissful breathing. His chest rose and fell, so helplessly gentle.

His staff leaned up against a rock several feet away, alongside with everyone's weapons, save for Astarion, who preferred to keep his daggers close. Today had been no different from the rest; the battles had been taxing, only seeming to increase in difficulty the further you wandered into the shadows. He'd given it his all today, and it had been worth it, as you'd managed yet another day without losing any member of your party. As he'd explained it, the more of the weave he manipulated, the weaker his spells got — at least until he was able to rest.

He lay before you, undoubtedly sapped by the day's events. Defenseless.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Three bruises. One on his cheekbone, one persistent discoloration that sat in the middle of the dark mark of the orb, and one on his side where he'd been assaulted by the undead in his moment of distraction. In a blink, your fingers grace the bruise on his side, and they tingle. Being fresh, the blemishes swirl a deep purple into his light skin, nearly matching the tint of his pants.

Purple was his best color, wasn't it?

The twitch of your fingertips sends a pulse through your body, and you taste an itch in the back of your throat. The tadpole squirms, you can feel its short wriggle behind your eye, but its control falters. Some other sensation warms your body, easing you into a malleable, thinning consciousness, and your gaze trails slowly, drunkenly, over his torso.

Three bruises. Clear, stuck to his skin like the stars he so fondly recalls. So far from the view of the sky, and yet you find a constellation still. Another blink, and your right leg has crossed over his waist. However forgotten your past is, it grants you a waking dream, as vivid as reality; Gale Dekarios, laying under you much like he was now, his pretty face littered with prettier bruises that dot all the way down to his shoulders, his neck red and swollen, branded by the picturesque imprint of hands.

Your hands.

And gorgeous is an understatement.

It's distinct. The pulse of his arteries, teasing the gift of blood beneath his skin, purring under your fingers as they push, your thumbs hitched underneath his jaw, pressuring the veins. Your own heart is thumping, encouraging your desires, urging you to indulge.

You've tasted vindication like this before. When you awoke to the spectacle of Alfira's maimed corpse, there was serenity like nothing you knew possible. It came underlined by pride, your work preciously appalling, and you relished the piece, the art macabre and perfect.

The sweeter the canvas, the finer the design.

Gale was nothing if not sweet.

"My — Hardly the sight I was expecting to wake to."

Another blink, and his bruises are gone, save for the contusion on his cheek. Absent are the inscriptions of your hands on his neck, and his hazel eyes are revealed to you once more. Though you don't remember moving it, your hand presses against the black circle on his chest, palm pining for his throat.

You're unable to move. Unable to control yourself. Unable to win back your own consciousness. Gale props himself up on his elbows. His heart rate has picked up, and yet you don't sense fear. The curiosity in his eyes is familiar. The quirk in his left eyebrow and the smirk playing on the corner of his mouth is not.

"I do assume you meant to wake me, eventually. No harm," he says, gaze narrowing, and your lack of a response makes him huff out a chuckle, or at least part of one, as it only lasts a beat. Your eyes are pinned to his throat, reaching to find the comfort of your imagination's lens again, but your dream has been interrupted. At last, your eyes meet his, and it's the hazel that causes the tadpole to squirm again, awakening your senses once more. Gale moves one of his hands to rest on your waist, and his head recoils ever so slightly. "You look uncomfortable. What's wrong?" He asks, and you're able to sense a less pleasant curiosity, but it's still free of fearful influence.

"I'm going to kill you. You have to stop me."

His eyes widen, and still, there is no fear. He doesn't believe you. "A rather twisted joke... Not one I find particularly humorous. Albeit, humor is subjective, although–"

"I killed Alfira. You're next. No time – you have to stop me," you huff, and your confession brings on a raging headache, unlike any pain you've ever felt before. You lean forward, teeth grit as you groan, and Gale squeezes your hip for a moment. Though the reverberations in your head are overwhelming at the least, you finally catch a hint of fear from the wizard, and you're thankful for it. At least a part of you is, though the beast that brings on your headache is only bubbling to a rage, furious that you would dare turn against your thoughts. You've not committed a betrayal against your own conscience, but instead, betrayed your destiny, refusing some urge that is larger than yourself.

With what little remaining control you have, you push yourself off of him, and he's quick to rise to his feet. Your eyes squeeze closed, fighting the unwelcome entity with the rest of your energy, though given your excursions earlier in the day, that energy is quickly dwindling. Your knees press to the dirt, the heels of your palms pressing to your temples as you keel over, an aggressive, roaring nausea plaguing your senses, soon joined by an even more violent malignity that rips into your control as though it means to test you.

You want him dead.

A wonderful bath his blood would provide — A marvelous crack his bones would sing — A remarkable terror he could feel. He will suffer.

There's a firm squeeze on your arms as they're yanked behind your back, and you writhe, fighting your cravings as they fight your containment. The hold is followed by a burning scrape on your wrists as they are hastily, and uncomfortably tightly, bound by rope. Your head swings, but Gale manages to pull back in time, his reflex causing his grip to falter, and you fall to your side, rolling towards his bedroll.

He frowns, eyebrows pinched inward and he kneels in place, a few paces away, reading the situation and assessing just how much of a threat you pose. Gale glances at where Shadowheart and Karlach lie, still miraculously sleeping soundly despite the struggle occurring no more than two yards from where they reside. His attention returns to you. "Easy. Should you retain any control, I merely request that you refrain from indulging in... whatever your intentions may have been. Greedy as it may be, an explanation certainly wouldn't hurt."

There's a command, conjuring as a sensation rather than a verbal declaration, and it rings through your entire body. You're unable to decipher the apparition's ambition, but your muscles act nonetheless. It fights — you fight — against the rope, and there's a flare of savage discontent when you're unable to free yourself. "You're better off as my prey! You will suffer a purgatory worse than any of the hells could manage," you bark, and your words are not your own. The control he speaks of is entirely silenced, leaving you an unwilling vessel, forced to submit to the will of your past.

"Not the answer I would have preferred, but an answer nonetheless. Yelling will only stir the others from their slumber, and I predict they won't be as understanding as yours truly. You should consider taking up a quieter tone," he advises, and you growl, forcing rashes into your wrists as you wage a war on your binds.

"I will spill your blood before this night is through!" You yell again, and Karlach shifts where she sleeps, stirring a flash of worry in his expression. "Wake them! I'll slaughter them all the same!"

Gale cringes, conflicted for only a moment before he overcomes his internal argument, and he quickly rushes to your side. You bite at him with a rabid ferocity, and he sits behind you, pulling your body closer to his own, even as you squirm and fight him. Shadowheart mumbles, bordering on the edge of lucidity, and Gale curses out a whispered "Godsdamn it." He huffs, irritated just as much as he is scared, and his palm presses to your mouth, his thumb keeping your jaw shut — or at least trying to keep it shut — as your head is pulled against his shoulder.

You mumble, fervently antagonizing him, your muffled words being split up only by the subtle flinching of your jaw as you attempt to bite at his hand, all to no avail. His grasp is tight, nearly rough, keeping you as restrained as possible, and he watches Karlach and Shadowheart with apprehensive dread, his focus painfully split between concern for you and fear of you.

Gale looks down at you, his expression firm and yet, against all odds and expectations, somehow understanding, even if it is incredibly mild. "I've seen you tear apart the most ferocious of beasts. Foes that would make Bhaal himself tremble. You always prevail. You must defeat this — whatever it is." He nods, but his encouragement is not what you want to hear; you thirst for his terror, you thirst for his pleading, you want to see him tremble. His tone softens, and he squeezes your jaw, almost tenderly. "I'm right here. No blood will be shed tonight. Fight to your heart's content; I will not give in. You cannot give in, either."

Your heart is all that remains of your better judgement, and it aches at his promise, though the guilt and appreciation is quickly whisked away by your burning rage, your need for violence. You persist, as does he, correcting your every shift, no matter how exhausted he grows. Certainly the most stern you've ever seen him — more disciplined than you knew he could be, but you have little room in your mind to process that. You despise the way that he cares, the fact that he is just gentle enough not to injure you as he restricts you, the understanding in his expression, the near nurturing tone he takes on.

Yet it's the affection that eventually subsides your bloodlust, willing it to retire, however angry it remains. Angry at the loss, angry at the incompetence, angry at the devotion. Devotion to the wrong subject. Gale wins, ultimately — and by some affiliation, so too do you. A temporary victory, you're well-aware, but even if it isn't permanent, your body becomes your own, your thoughts and feelings along with it.

Exhaustion is the first burden you bear upon your return, and Gale is hesitant to ease his grasp on you, but he takes the risk, and you can't muster the energy to move away from him. Your head pangs with a narrow pain, manifesting as a faint ringing in your ears, and your wrists sear with sharp bites from the fraying rope. His hand releases your mouth, shifting quickly to your shoulder as your torso threatens to fall over, your buried rancor having completely wasted away the last of your energy.

Gale sighs, his own muscles easing up as he inches backwards, allowing you to lean more comfortably, and with a bit more stability, against his chest. One of his arms stays displayed over your abdomen, quite possibly still a little worried you might lash out again, and you didn't blame him for exercising caution. You lean into him, mostly because you lack the energy to do much else, but also because you want him to understand that you are beyond appreciative. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper — barely audible at all, really.

"I know. You're okay. Rest now, you'll certainly require some form of rejuvenation if we intend on defeating Ketheric and... Well, repressing whatever it is that you find yourself cursed with. And I assure you, I do so unquestionably intend on assisting you with your affliction. After all, I'm quite fond of my vitals, and I've no interest in seeing them spilled." Gale's tone is almost lighthearted, but genuine still.

His arm releases you, and he guides you to rest your head in his lap, allowing you to experience a little more comfort. Your eyes close, and you fear sleep — you know the possible horrors you could cause when you're left defenseless against your bloodlust — but you feel it taking you nonetheless. Gale doesn't untie you, not yet anyways, and it provides the slightest of reassurances. Worst case scenario, you know that, should the urge take advantage of your rest, Gale will expect it this time.

"Perhaps a poor time for confessions," he begins, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face, "But I must admit, the notion of you becoming lost to that rage is not a concept I'm anywhere near comfortable with. Keeping my heart beating is one motivation, and a strong one at that — but I hope you understand that keeping you safe is also immensely important to me. In all honesty, I'm... not sure what I'd do without you. I worry enough witnessing your engagement in the violent affairs we do so often find ourselves tangling with." Gale pauses, and clears his throat, shifting nervously. "Apologies, pay me no mind — A little shaken up, I fear my feelings may be getting the best of me. Rest. We'll reconvene come morning."

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄.

synopsis. it's past closing hours and you find yourself at yanshang teahouse, tipsy and deeply engaged in a game of strip tcg with the owner, yelan.

genre. smut + mild hurt / comfort

tw. nsfw content, alcohol consumption, gambling, stripping, very slight bondage, thigh riding, dom!yelan, fingering, use of 'pretty girl'

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

yelan x fem!reader.

the blood rushed to your cheeks as you placed your glass of wine down, heaving a soft breath before wiping your lips.

you'd long since lost track of how many rounds deep both you and yelan had been in of the notorious tcg genius invocation. but with a rather.. questionable.. twist. an idea suggested by yelan that you carelessly agreed to if it meant forgetting your worries.

what once was a blossoming relationship between yourself and the enigma, regrator, had ended with a letter sent to your private address through one of his subordinates, declaring that it was off.

isolated at home, you wondered yourself where it all went wrong and what led him go suddenly breaking the relationship off. sure it had been long distance and secret for the most part, given the status he had briefly spoken to you about — but it still hurt. it hurt not knowing what caused him to change his mind about you, and to be left with some pathetic letter that hardly conveyed anything.

so you winded up at the yanshang teahouse, accompanied by yelan who had just gotten off work to 'give you a good time'. something to help rid your mind of the lingering pain left behind by pantalone — not that you told her who he was. but yelan knew, she always knew.

though when she mentioned a good time, this was the last thing you expected.

"down to one card again, y/n. ready to call it quits? you're down to a pair of stockings, panties and a bralette.. there's not much left to lose." the hydro user spoke, twirling her own glass of wine between her fingers. "what will it be, then?"

like you, yelan's cheeks had flushed from the alcohol, as she didn't want you to be the only one drinking. though the only difference had been that yelan could hold her liquor, while you on the other hand, could not.

"if i forfeit i'll have to remove something regardless, yelan-san. i might as well try to win another round.. or are you simply in a rush to see me remove another article of clothing?" you quipped, a sultry-like smile on your lips, similarly to the ones she gave you all the time.

luckily yelan, with her many connections, had managed to reserve the teahouse for just the two of you ( otherwise you probably wouldn't be involved in such an activity ). how she did it would forever be a mystery given her never ending network of information, but it was appreciated. precisely what you needed.

and who better than the very person who dresses for revenge, adorning herself in the albino fur coat that she'd stolen and tailored. as payback for the disappearance of her second bracelet. ironically from the man you once loved.

a soft hum had left the archer's lips, followed by a low chuckle. "i suppose you're right, it'd be less fun if you gave up on me, anyway.. but i'm rather impatient." she admitted, resting her hand on her cheek. "and you just look so cute with that defeated pout on your lips, i'm just so eager to see it again.. should i really be blamed for thinking such?"

as you selected your ending move, a chill ran down your spine at her words which drew your attention away from your limited deck to raise a brow. "truly?" you wondered aloud, fiddling with your card of choice before loosing a laugh in response to her own. "i didn't paint myself to be the cute type, but i believe this round is mine, yelan-san."

and just like that, you flipped the rectangular piece to its back with a soft click from your nail, ultimately ending the turn.

yelan was stunned to say the least, surprise flashing in her aquamarine orbs for a brief second before they returned to their normal state. perhaps a habit of keeping one's composure regardless of the context. as expected of the valley orchid.

"seems it is." the woman acknowledged, raising her hands for a slow clap. "nicely done, y/n-chan.. though it does give off that vibe that someone was more zealous than i, for a peek." she smirked, placing the flat of her palms on the table as she rose from her seat.

confusion painted your features, wondering if your victory had struck something in her. maybe yelan wasn't one for losing, but that final commented suggested otherwise.

"a peek of what?" you asked her softly, feigning innocence. of course you had known what she meant, you weren't oblivious. but it made things all the more enticing. "you'll have to show me, yelan-san.. i won't know otherwise."

yelan caught on with ease, as her observatory skills were unmatched to many of teyvat. you weren't fooling anyone, and certainly not her. though if you wished to take part in such a game, then what choice was she left with?

"i suppose it'll be my job to educate you, but do keep in mind this is classified.." she trailed off, fading with her words before appearing by your ear. so closely that her lips nearly brushed over the cartilage. "meaning i'd have to take your very life, should you open that pretty little mouth of yours and ramble of what you saw here tonight."

the beat of your heart thundered so loudly, you were almost sure the intelligence agent could hear the way it hammered against your chest as the warmth clung to your cheeks.

never had you pictured the woman beside you as anything more than your closest friend and ally. but something about her tonight felt.. different.

you told yourself it was surely the wine, as you weren't one to drink very often — or at least as many of the glasses you'd drained tonight.

but as the hydro wielder leaned in closer, you found difficultly in blaming the wine entirely as you craned your neck to the left, releasing a soft breath. "what if i didn't want to reveal that information and preferred to harbor it wholly for myself..?" you finally asked, closing your eyes. "had you considered that?" you asked again when her lips peppered down to the curve of your shoulder, only for them to suddenly cease.

"for yourself?" yelan repeated, lips hovering by your ear. "mm, what a greedy little thing you are, y/n-chan." she chuckled, turning your chin to look up at her as she spun your seat with her heel. "but i suppose it's no difficult feat in fulfilling that measly request of yours. watch closely."

with a wink, the navy haired archer grasped the ends of her azure top she wore, edging it slowly. the piece fit her upper half like a glove, accentuating her curves almost perfectly — fit for mobility, but not as swift to remove. though yelan was in no rush, not at all.

you on the other hand..

that burning sensation on your cheeks only increased tenfold as you got a glimpse of her milky abdomen, once replaced by mesh and leathers. part of you wanted to look away, for the sight had been flustering — and staring was often considered impolite.. but you were instructed otherwise, and that was enough to keep you obedient. even if the sight was.. torturous.

finally the wait was over and she'd removed the piece, leaving her in a black strapless bra that was often visible underneath her clothing, and a pair of leggings. still relatively covered, though something told you it wouldn't remain that way for much longer.

yelan hummed as she drew closer to you, taking your cheek in her hand once more. "what's the matter, too much? i wonder where all that confidence went off to." she drawled out softly, shifting closer as she took your right hand in hers, pinning it against the thistle colored table. "you just seemed so needy earlier.. should i sto-"

"no!" you blurted out a little louder than anticipated, cutting her off unintentionally. but she took no offense, waiting patiently for you to continue.

"it's not.. too much. i can handle it — i want it.." you tried clarifying, clearing your throat as you willed your eyes to meet her own.

archons, they were so striking, so much that you nearly found yourself freezing up again. but luckily, you had mustered the courage to say the words that had been meaning to come out since the start of your evening together.

"i want you, yelan-san."

at last, there were the words the intelligence agent had been waiting to hear, as a honeyed smile crawled to her lips. "do you now?" she asked, sliding her hand from your cheek to pin your other hand above your head. "how badly? i won't know what you want of me precisely, if you don't tell me, y/n."

despite the warm temperature of liyue harbor, as it was mostly made up of a savannah and oceanic climate, chills ran down your spine, each one colder than the following.

swallowing thickly, you parted your lips, staring up at her pleadingly, desperately. "i need you more than the air i breathe." you whispered, shifting underneath her weight. "rid me of everything left behind by him.. every touch, gesture, word — everything that he was."

yelan didn't need any explanation for who 'he' was as she nodded, lowering herself till her lips were a breath away from yours. "then i'll erase his entire existence from your memories." was her only reply before pressing a chaste kiss to your soft appendages — gentle and sweet. a stark contrast to allure she'd radiated- the temptation she made you feel.

but it wasn't long before that kiss deepened, a moan spilling from your lips when her body had pressed down on your own. the sheer feel of her so heavenly, it almost felt sinful to have her like this. pinning you down with her body to a tcg table and near breathless from her kisses.

the bracelet on her left wrist glowed with power as she tied your hands in place, trailing her lips down the column of your neck. and it continued just like that. kiss after kiss, mark after mark. you were her canvas to paint a new, replacing the dulled and faded colors with blues of every shade; orchids of new beginnings, beauty, strength and luxury. to value yourself for everything that you are, and everything that you mean to the valley orchid herself.

parting for air, yelan took this as an opportunity to remove her leggings, seating herself on the stool you once occupied as she patted her right thigh. an invitation.

having recovered your breath, you pushed yourself up, hands still bound together as you took the place she offered. although there had been one remaining layer of fabric separating you from direct contact, you couldn't help the shaky sigh that left your lips as her leg bounced. a test.

the glow faded on her bracelet, releasing your hands for you to wrap your arms around her to close to the gap that remained between you both.

yelan kept your hips in place, humming softly. "what a needy thing, you are." she whispered into your ear, tracing shapes on your waist. "how does my pretty girl want it?"

all the words you willed yourself to say only fell into incoherent slurs and whimpers as you dropped your head on her shoulder, mumbling for her to choose.

normally yelan would have edged you to give her a clear answer, but tonight was different. she was willing to be lenient, and gentle with that fragile heart of yours.

so she nodded, bringing your hips forward as she bounced her leg a bit, slowly building up momentum.

a sharp exhale escaped your wine-kissed appendages as you clung to the cerulean eyed woman, shivering at the impact. it was certain that you had been sensitive.. but not this much. you were almost sure of your climax being on the way, much faster than anticipated. though you didn't care, neither did yelan.

as she kept lifting and lowering her thigh against your clothed clit, feeling how close you were, the short haired woman dipped two fingers into your undergarments, as a test. when you made no move or word of protest, yelan took it as consent and rolled them up and down your slicked petals.

her ministrations left your stomach in knots as you whined out for her to go deeper, wanting to feel her fingers slide in and out of you. any means to draw out that orgasm you've been holding onto.

and she did. she devoured your moans in another heated kiss as her fingers delved into your aching core, hitting the spot perfectly. exactly the way you wanted her to as her thigh finally slowed at the rush of your release.

the tension in your body almost left you completely as your lips broke from yelan's for breath. even if you wished you hadn't, unfortunately you did have to breathe..

shortly after, you lowered your head to rest it on her chest, panting softly. "can we stay like this.. just for a bit." a quiet plea to say you didn't want her to leave just yet, not like he did.

gently, yelan licked her fingers clean before petting your hair softly, in understanding. she knew your reasoning, and wished to stay, too. "already a step ahead of you, pretty girl."

notes. me when i haven’t written smut in ages and i choose to write gxg for the first time lol

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[risingscorchingsuns]

okay so i have the bit where i reblog the post about genya having MALS every time mine flares up, but i realize nobody likely knows what the hell MALS is because it’s pretty rare and massively underdiagnosed. so because this is a thing that Hurts Me A Lot, and also because i genuinely do think it makes canonical sense for genya to have it, so im gonna infodump about it! obvious tw for medical shit and mentions of vascular problems. please do note I am not a professional- just a patient with too much time and having to do my own research because doctors won’t listen to me <3 I write from my own experience and very surface-level research; this is in no way an academic paper.

okay! MALS! what is it? MALS stands for Median Arcuate Ligament Syndrome. The median arcuate ligament is a vascular ligament in the lower part of your chest, and MALS is a kind of chronic vascular compression condition where this ligament sits lower than it should. This puts pressure on the celiac artery, which supplies blood to the stomach, liver, and all the other organs and stuff in the lower abdomen.

The symptoms vary, but from the limited research out there as well as my own experience, the primary symptom of MALS is agonizing chronic stomach pain, which has a risk of flaring up after eating or exercise. In my own experience, it’s both, but it’s mostly food. I’ve had days where I barely eat, or eat much less because i really don’t want to have to deal with a flareup. There’s no foods that trigger it specifically as far as I know, but I’ve noticed that things with high fat or oil contents make the flareups happen faster. For example, sushi- I love tuna nigiri, but the fat in the raw tuna always leaves me in agony 😔 I’ve also had to leave the gym early sometimes, because exercise triggers it. This is less common in my experience, though.

The pain is normally manageable- it feels like a stabbing cramp in my lower abdomen, typically about a 4-5/10 on the pain scale. It sucks, but normally i just have to sit down for about 20 minutes and it passes. But the worst ones have had me completely immobilized, sometimes for hours at a time. The worst one I ever had actually had me hospitalized; I was on the floor curled up, in so much pain I could barely even breathe. It was like someone was twisting knives in my insides- I thought I was dying. I run the risk of pain like this every time I eat. Pain like that is rare for me, and I’ve never met anyone else with my condition, but if they feel pain like that more often than I do, it’s all the more reason to raise awareness for MALS.

As far as I know, there’s nothing to be done for pain management. Ibuprofen and things like that either don’t touch it, or the pain simply passes before it takes effect. Regardless, the only thing I’ve found to do is wait it out, and don’t strain myself. There is a surgical cure, an open vascular surgery to relieve the pressure on the artery. But MALS is very rare, mostly because it is massively, massively underdiagnosed. It took ten years for doctors to stop telling me I was just lactose intolerant/experiencing menstrual cramps and actually run a CT scan on me. I believe the diagnoses rate is two out of every hundred thousand patients. MALS is mistaken for all sorts of things; lactose intolerance, IBS, Crohn’s, pretty much any Tummyache Disorder can get confused for MALS. Additionally, I’ve found mentions of patients saying doctors just straight up don’t believe their pain because there’s no obvious cause. In my experience, finding treatment has been nothing short of a nightmare; because MALS is only debilitating and not technically dangerous, I’ve had countless doctors dismiss my case and tell me to just deal with it. (I could go on a whole rant about sure, yeah, just deal with a coin flip’s chance of agony if I want to sustain myself by literally eating, but whatever thank you fuck you every doctor.) Regardless, MALS is really underdiagnosed, and it’s fairly under-researched as well.

Anyway, onto Genya Shinazugawa. From a surface level, I headcanon him to have MALS because he’s my blorbo and I love projecting onto fictional characters, but if I do a bit of analysis it actually makes a lot of sense. The most obvious symptom is his demon-eating; his ‘stronger’ digestive organs could be some fictional result of MALS. Something or other less blood flow tolerates demon magic something something fantasy. The important thing is, it’s mentioned in the manga that Genya has frequent checkups at the Butterfly Mansion due to his demon eating. I can’t remember exactly where, but im pretty sure it’s mentioned that this ability is harmful to his health/causes him pain. Therefore it’s not unreasonable to assume that eating demons can trigger Genya’s MALS, just as tuna triggers mine. Additionally, it was mentioned in the anime (I believe it was a Taisho Era Secret in the Swordsmith Village arc?) that Genya often refuses food, going long periods without eating. This is a common mental side effect of MALS- a lot of patients, myself included, develop a hesitance or even fear of eating due to the likelihood of it triggering a flareup. It’s likely that Genya is doing the same thing.

Anyway!! If you have any questions, or feel that I’ve missed something, please let me know!! As per usual for me I’ve written this mostly past 3am, so it’s possible I could have my lore crossed!! Regardless id be interested to hear everyone’s thoughts on this headcanon, because it’s not one that I’ve heard before. Thanks for reading! 💜🪲

[taruchinator]

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🌳 1.5k Words

🌳 Day 15 | “Wait, you love me? “I always have.” For @flufftober!

Today was the day.

Thomas was groggy with sleep and trying to adjust to the light seeping through the Homestead's roof when the thought struck him.

Today he and the Gladers were heading into the maze. Today they were going to escape.

And for some reason he was sharing a hammock with his best friend.

MAZE RUNNER FANDOM ARE YOU ALIVE? I'M HERE AND I'VE BROUGHT FOOD! T_T

So as the late bloomer that I am, I've only just recently experienced the goodness that is the TMR series, and all I can say is that even though it's no masterpiece, it's a masterpiece in MY heart, okay???

I wanted to do something Newtmas for Flufftober because the content just writes itself oml these boys be gay good for them. Enjoy! ^^

Today was the day.

Thomas was groggy with sleep and trying to adjust to the light seeping through the Homestead's roof when the thought struck him.

Today he and the Gladers were heading into the maze.

Today they were going to escape.

Everything around the teen was relatively quiet, except for the rustling of leaves and soft snoring coming from the other boys in their hammocks. It was then that the brunet noticed no one was up yet—looking at the watch on his wrist indicated that he'd awoken even earlier than the Runners, which was honestly surprising since he considered himself a heavy sleeper.

It honestly made the situation around him feel that much more surreal.

To think that less than a day ago he'd managed to crack the code to their freedom with the help of Teresa, all when they were nothing short of hopeless mere hours before. Although if he was being honest with himself, Thomas wasn't even sure if this was the answer they were looking for.

Sure, it made the most sense out of everything they'd stumbled upon over the years the Gladers lived here, but there was that small voice in the back of his head that made him worry.

What if he was reading too much into something that wasn't there?

What if the instructions they'd uncovered were actually another trap set by the maze, leading them into more pain and suffering?

What if Thomas’ unknown past was unconsciously sending his friends to their demise?

The brunet let out a sigh as he shuffled into a more comfortable position. He couldn't think like this—not when they were already so deep in. No matter what the day ahead brought, he had to stay strong, if not for himself, for the people who put their faith in him.

Alby, Minho, Chuck, Teresa.

And of course…

“Hmm…”

The low grumble almost made the brunet jump out of his skin, until he felt familiar lean arms snaking around him from behind. After getting everything set up and talking nothing but strategies all night, Thomas had nearly forgotten that in the midst of their sleep deprived minds, he'd invited his best friend to lay down in his hammock to take a rest since his own was on the other side of the Homestead.

After slowly turning his body around, Thomas was met with the most peaceful sight he'd ever witnessed since arriving at the Glade.

Newt rested against his chest, a mere inch standing between them as the blond shifted under the brunet's scrutinizing gaze. The slow rise and fall of Newt's chest was more than enough to bring peace to Thomas’ mind—he was here. Alive and breathing and in his arms.

A force inside him caused the brunet to lean forward and place a soft kiss against Newt's forehead. It wasn't long before the oldest of the two began blinking the sleep away as he adjusted to the world around him.

“Morning.” Thomas spoke in a hushed tone, both for the sleeping Gladers around him as well as his partner beside him. He allowed himself to smile as the other scrunched his nose and shifted around to get into a more comfortable position.

“G'mornin’...” Newt mumbled the words while ruffling his hair, maybe trying to tame it only to make it worse but equally adorable in Thomas’ opinion. “What time is it?”

“Early. Runners aren't even up yet.” Thomas tried to give Newt some more room, but their limited hammock space made that task a little difficult, so he settled with placing one arm behind his head in hope of not having his limbs all over the blond's business.

“Bloody hell, someone's up early, then…” The amusement was evident in his voice as he showed off that damn crooked smile that gave Thomas butterflies for no logical reason whatsoever. “That eager to get today started, Tommy?”

He knew the comment was meant to be teasing in nature, but the younger boy couldn't help but have his thoughts drift back to the string of negativity from earlier. It must have been evident in his expression, because Newt dropped the smile and instead raised an eyebrow in slight concern. “You alright?”

Thomas contemplated how to answer for a minute, only to come up with nothing but the truth. It wasn't like he could lie to Newt, even if he tried. His best friend knew him too well—better than he knew himself, sometimes. With a small sigh, he gave him a sheepish grin. “Guess I'm nervous? Not sure what we're going to find out there.”

Newt observed him for a minute, then leaned his chin against an open palm, elbow resting against the rope-like texture of their shared sleeping quarters. “We're gonna find a way out. Doubt it'll be a big old door with the words ‘Exit!’ scrawled on top, but in this rubbish place, almost anything’s possible.”

At that, Thomas let out a soft chuckle. “You know what I mean.”

“So do you.” Newt's expression remained serious, but Thomas could see a hint of reassurance in his eyes, which was quickly backed up by the blond reaching for the brunet's hand with his own. “We're going to find an exit because that's what's out there. Our way to freedom.”

“What if it's not there? I mean, Teresa and I could've read it wrong. I could've read it wrong! Then I'd be leading all of you to danger for no reason and—”

“Tommy.”

With a single utterance of his nickname Thomas was silenced. He didn't even realize he started gripping the hammock until Newt's hand went to pull him away, interlocking their fingers instead. After staring at their joined hands for a moment, the blond brought them close to his lips and pressed them against the rough skin of Thomas’ knuckles.

A warmth spread across his cheeks before he could stop it, and Newt's giggle was more than enough proof to know that it was evident in his face. “For someone so smart, you doubt yourself a lot. It's cute, though. One of the many things I love about you.”

At that moment, time seemed to stop around him, and nothing else mattered. Nothing but the beautiful boy standing before him. He barely managed a whispered response. “Wait. You… love me?”

Newt's crooked smile returned, only this time laced with what Thomas could identify as fondness. “I always have.”

Before he could stop himself, Thomas instantly leaned forward and began peppering kisses all across Newt's face. His temples, nose, cheeks, neck—anything that was exposed to the air was up for the taking. The leaps and thumps in his chest were so loud he thought the other Gladers would certainly hear them, yet Thomas could care less.

Giggles erupted from the blond below him—Thomas didn't even realize when he'd caged him under his body—until he eventually started to pull him away, albeit rather reluctantly. “Alright, alright, that's enough! We're gonna wake—!”

“God, could you shanks get any louder?”

The voice instantly brought both boys to their senses, causing them to pull away from one another fast enough to fall from the hammock, landing on their bottoms with groans echoing from them both. Thomas could feel his face heating from embarrassment, and Newt's was flush pink as well.

He made a mental note to call him cute for that one later.

On the other hand, Minho stood above them with arms crossed, eyebrows raised and a look of mock disgust gracing his features. He swung his pack over his shoulder and turned away from them and faced the West entrance instead. “When you two are done being so shucking mushy, I'll meet you by the entrance, Greenie. We need to go over the route again before the others wake up.”

Thomas could barely muster a weak nod. He was never living this down, he could already tell. “G-Good that…”

Minho left without another word, leaving the duo alone once more.

As they exchanged looks, a few minutes passed before they let out chuckles of embarrassment at the whole ordeal.

Newt was the first to stand up, and as he did, he offered a hand to Thomas with a smile. “Ready to face the unknown?”

Thomas remained still for a moment, until eventually a smile spread itself across his own face while accepting the blond's help.

It was true that he had no idea what they were truly up against out in the maze, let alone outside the walls of all they've ever known. But as long as they had each other, Thomas knew nothing would stand in their way.

Nothing they couldn't handle.

“Together.”

[possiblyunhinged]

So, if I’ve not made it clear enough on the website – I’m a mess. I felt desperately sad seeing the news about Liam Payne this morning. It’s not because I grew up with One Direction and had an image of the man. I was too uptight and pretentious to allow myself to listen to them when they came around. Instead, the amount of content I’ve seen from people celebrating his death because of how he treated others slammed a trigger in my head that has been screaming at me ever since. All I can think about is a child I don't know who has to live in a world where many people are celebrating his Dad's death.

It’s a collective mental illness to oversimplify everything and use it to project our dissatisfaction with our own experiences in life. I’m as guilty of it as apparently the whole of Twitter. I’m a wounded person who would do anything to feel, well, less wounded. Unfortunately, that can manifest as being a hateful little roach. I desperately want to live in a world where women aren’t subject to abuse from men in such high numbers, and oftentimes, I am so reactive to the topic that the idea of humanizing abusers seems repulsive to me because it’s often used to justify the suffering of victims and keep them quiet.

Many times, I don't want to humanize abusers because it feels like the very reason justice is seldom acquired for victims. However, without doing so, we don't solve any problems.

I lost my dad when I was 19—a man I should’ve hated but never did. A man whose death was nothing more than a flippant gotcha moment to many, whilst it was the most painful moment of my life.

At 28, 9 years after my dad passed away, I feel desperately sad for a child who is going to grow up in a world where, hours after his dad passed away, the world is arguing whether it’s a ‘good’ thing he is dead, whether that is what his dad deserved. On top of that, a world where it took hours for videos and photographs of his dad to end on the internet.

My Dad, who I mourn to this day, was an abuser. I witnessed him be abusive to my Mum up until I was ten years old. I hated myself when he left because I missed him. How could I miss a person who hurt my Mum to the point I had to leave notes under her pillow because I was scared that she would kill herself? What kind of person did that make me? It’s supposed to be a good thing that he left, the sign of the end of a life of having to hold your breath – but it wasn’t.

Out of acknowledgment that I’m projecting my nonsense onto somebody else’s suffering, had my dad been a public figure who had been ‘called out’ online by somebody, his death would’ve also been celebrated.

My cousin responded to finding out my dad had died of cancer as ‘good, serves him right’. My Dad inflicted suffering on my Mum, Brother, and me that fundamentally affects how we engage with the world now. I don’t trust men. I don’t think I ever will. I shudder when they put their arm around me, and I have been in a state of hypervigilance most of my life because of what he has done.

Yet my dad is still the most significant loss of my life.

I love my dad to this day, and I miss him so much it makes my tummy ache – go figure. He put the fear of God into me throughout my life, but he was also a man who would hold my hand on the way to school. The sound of him belly-laughing to Phoenix Nights in the living room would lull me to sleep most nights. He’s the man who would put me on his shoulders, and I’d see the world from the dazzling heights of six-foot-five. He’s the man who’d brush my hair every day, pathetically so out of fear of causing me pain (ironic, I know). He was a man who would eat whatever monasteries I’d bake him and pretend he’d like it as my Mum would laugh her arse off behind me. He’s the man I’d look across the table to at family gatherings and feel less alone, less like an alien – because he was often the only place I felt a sense of belonging—a place I never found elsewhere.

My dad was also the man who'd cry when he thought I wouldn't notice when we were watching TV, and all I could do was rest my head on his tummy in the hope that he knew that I loved him.

He was a bad person who spun his own childhood trauma into somebody else’s. And I wish I had lived in a world that helped people like my dad before they became the villains in somebody else’s stories, so he could’ve just been the dad I loved so much without an Asterix in sight.

By many on the internet’s standard, people like my dad dying is something to be celebrated. This is a lazy approach to such complex problems. If the dream is to live in a world where hurt people don’t end up hurting others, then it’s not going to solve itself in this one—one so void of compassion.

I feel very me me me posting this, but honestly, I wish some people would remove their heads from their arse on the internet. We are seldom more civilized than the crowds of people who'd gathered in the past to watch public executions; we relish in others' suffering if we can frame it as being just. And then, when it's too late, people backtrack on their cruelty and reflect briefly before moving on to the next.

It's tiring to see this process being framed as virtuous. There is nothing virtuous about it.

[phr3ia]

Love Game (Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 05 : Persistent]

The familiar dimness and scent of whiskey greeted you as you stepped inside your favorite bar. It was your haven, a place to unwind and escape the world's burdens.

"Evening, Detective." the young bartender, Hiro, greeted. "How's your day going?"

"Just fine, Hiro." you replied, sliding onto a barstool. "Give me my usual, please."

Hiro nodded, filling your glass with amber liquid. "You've got a new admirer tonight, by the looks of it. Lone wolf type, sitting in the corner."

Curious, you glanced over, spotting a man with a chiseled jawline and piercing gray eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as your gaze met his. "Is he causing trouble?"

Hiro chuckled, setting your drink down. "Not yet. But he's been looking at you since you walked in, so it's only a matter of time. Wanna play along, or should I give him the 'hands off' signal?

"Hand's off signal, please." you said hastily, taking a sip of your drink. You had no interest in dealing with anyone other than yourself tonight.

The night progressed, and several men approached you, only to be met with your cold, dismissive attitude. Hiro chuckled at your antics, shaking his head as he cleaned a glass.

Unbeknownst to you, Toji had slipped into the bar, sitting at a corner table. He watched you with amusement, impressed by how effortlessly you fended off the advances of various suitors.

"Damn, she's got ice in her veins." he muttered to himself. "I might have to raise my game to get through that shell."

As the night dragged on, your drink slowly emptied. You were becoming less guarded, occasionally laughing with Hiro. The world outside the bar seemed to fade away, replaced by the soft hum of conversations and the thud of glasses being set down on the counter.

Toji chuckled, enjoying the show. "Looks like she's finally loosening up." He popped a handful of chips into his mouth, watching you from afar.

"She's a natural at deflecting unwanted attention. I wonder if I can break through her walls." Toji mused, munching on his chips, seemingly content just observing your interactions.

He sat there for another hour, munching on chips and sipping on water. Toji dislikes alcohol because he doesn't get drunk, so why indulge in something he couldn't enjoy?

You were gathering your belongings, ready to leave, when suddenly, you felt a firm hand grip your ass. Your fist immediately connected to the man's face, and the sudden crack of bone echoed through the bar. Blood spurted from his broken nose, staining his shirt. You turned to Hiro with a deadpan expression. "Some signal, Hiro."

Hiro winced, apologizing. "Sorry, Detective. I thought he'd take the hint. Next time, I'll make it more convincing."

As the man scrambled to his feet, he spat out a string of obscenities, calling you a "stuck-up bitch." With shaky hands, he broke the beer bottle in half , the jagged edges glinting dangerously in the low bar lighting.

The room seemed to spin, and you stumbled back, leaning against the bar for support. Your vision blurred, and you wondered if you'd taken too many drinks.

The air thickened with tension, and the patrons went silent, watching with bated breath. The man lunged forward with so much aggression, ready to stab you with the broken beer bottle.

In a swift motion, Toji appeared behind the man, yanking his arm backwards with a sickening snap. The man screamed in pain, dropping the bottle. Toji gripped the man's collar, lifting him off the ground.

"This one's off-limits." he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And don't even think about touching her again. Understood? Do it one more time, and you won't be around to make any more."

Releasing the man, he turned to you, concern etched on his face. "You okay, Buttercup?"

You blinked, staring at Toji. "Yeah....Wait, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away."

Toji smirked. "You didn't tell me to stay out of trouble. I couldn't resist saving the damsel in distress."

You rolled your eyes, pushing him aside to retrieve your bag. "I can handle myself, Toji. You didn't need to step in."

Toji chuckled, following you as you made your way to the exit. "I see you're still as stubborn as ever. And here I was hoping you'd thank me."

You shot him a death glare, not amused by his teasing. "Thank you? For what? Saving me from a punk who got what he deserved? I'll pass."

Toji shrugged, unfazed by your anger. "Suit yourself. At least, you've got someone to watch your back when you're out having a good time. You never know when trouble might find you."

You huffed, muttering under your breath as you left the bar. "Like I need someone like you to keep me safe."

Once you were safely outside the bar, you stopped and turned to face Toji. "Just how long have you been following me, Toji? And why?" Your tone was sharp, irritation lacing every word.

Toji grinned, unfazed by your anger. "Following you? Oh, I don't know. Since the moment you left the apartment, I think. I figured you could use some company or a bodyguard, whichever you prefer. You're quite the entertainer, you know."

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.  "You've been following me just so you could watch? I'll have you know, I don't need a damn bodyguard! Not from a washed-up assassin like you!"

Toji's grin widened. "Ah, Buttercup, you're still as feisty as ever. Can't say I'm disappointed."

As you started to walk away from the bar, you tripped on the curb, tumbling forward. But before you could hit the ground, Toji swiftly caught you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. "Careful, Y/N."

The warmth from his body radiated against yours, making you feel strangely warm inside. Your eyes met his, and for a split second, you both blushed. Snapping out of your daze, you shoved him away, your cheeks flushed. "Get your hands off me, Toji!" you exclaimed, pushing against his chest to create some distance between you two.

He chuckled, his voice husky as he leaned closer. "Or else what? You'll box my ears again? I'd kind of like that."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you turned away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. "You...you're terrible. Just terrible."

With that, you stomped off towards your apartment, leaving Toji to follow at a distance, chuckling to himself.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End Of Chapter 5 🥀....

@meowforluv @miizuzu

[mageofseven]

Now onto Levi's story! I actually spent a lot of time brainstorming for this last night. Writing Belphie's came more or less effortlessly because I have been able to build out his character past what we see in the games in a believable way.

With Levi, I haven't had as easy of a time nailing down who he is outside of what we see in the game. If anyone reading this has some insights and a better understanding of Levi, please send me your thoughts! Any help is appreciated

Lucifer|Mammon|Satan|Asmo|Beel|Belphie

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

It was 12:45 at night.

The couple had agreed to tell the other brothers about Kai in the morning, but honestly, this man was the only one of the three that couldn't sleep. After hours of agonizing labor, MC fell asleep rather easily. Kai took rather well with the Akuzon box-made-bed Levi put together for him so just like his mama, he too was fast asleep.

Levi was more awake than he's ever been. I mean, he just became a dad. Like, out of nowhere at that. This man's heart was still racing from the birth and nothing he did could calm him.

Despite their agreement, Levi found himself giving up on sleep. He carefully scooped up the box his son was in and trudged out the door.

Before he even realized it, the demon was in front of his older brother's study door. Adjusting his hold on the box, he raised his newly free hand to knock on door. But he didn't. He just stared at the mahogany wood and cried.

How the hell is he supposed to explain this to Lucifer? 'Hey, I knocked up my girlfriend without even knowing it and now I'm suddenly a dad and I'm scared as hell please help me--

The door creaked open, revealing a tired looking pride demon in desperate need of coffee. It was Lucifer's perspective that was much worse though.

He opened his study door thinking tonight was just like any of other night, not expecting to see one of his younger brothers crying outside his door with a snoozing babe in a box.

"Please," the younger brother sniffled. "Please help me."

Normally, Levi didn't like crying in front of any of his brothers, but tonight, he felt like he was drowning in the deep end.

Lucifer rushed his brother inside and carefully took the box before setting it on his desk. He put his hands on his brother's shoulders.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"I-I didn't know--"

The oldest pulled his brother in for a hug. After a minute or two in this embrace, the third brother pulled back, wiped his tears on his sleeve, and explained the night he had with MC.

The older demon didn't show it, but he was actually relieved to hear that MC birthed the child and not Levi. When he saw his brother crying and carrying a baby, the worst case scenario entered his brain: Levi having this baby the same way Lucifer himself had Satan.

If this baby had been born in the same way, that would have meant that Levi dealt with a trauma had caused such uncontrollable pain that the emotions solidified into a soul and was forced out his body.

To hear that he simply knocked up his girlfriend and somehow (?) didn't know? Well, that was a much better alternative.

"It will be fine; just take a breath."

The older demon waited for a nod from his brother before lowering his arms and grabbing his jacket off the chair. He gently reached out and raised the baby from the makeshift bed before wrapping him in the jacket.

Kai let out a content, sleepy coo and snuggled into the jacket.

Lucifer tried giving him to Levi. Startled, the new dad took a step back, shaking his head.

"N-No. I..." He hung his head. "I don't... know how to hold one of them."

Its been hundreds of years since a baby was in House of Lamentation. Back then, he rarely ever held Satan. Even if he had though, this feels...different. It's different when it's your own kid.

Lucifer said nothing. He watched his brother for a minute before taking a step forward and slowly putting the baby in his arms, directing the arm placement along the way.

Once the baby was securely in his arms, the oldest stepped back. Kai stretched out his little arms and yawned before fluttering open his eyes, which matched his mother's. Levi stared down into his son's beautiful eyes and thought of MC.

He told MC that he could handle this, that he'll give their son his all. Since she fell asleep though, that brief moment of confidence dispelled and he became more unsure of himself than ever.

I mean, in what world could he actually be responsible for another human being? Hell, he couldn't even take care of himself half the time and if it weren't for MC, he'd be even worse off. He was nothing more than a shut-in otaku who was too afraid to face the world.

How could he be a dad? And do whatever it is dads do? And how would he know what that was? His dad was self-obsessive godhead who the amount of time he saw face to face could be counted on one hand. All he, or any of his brothers had for that matter, was Lucifer.

As much as he loved his oldest brother though, he's not someone who really knows how to parent; he's just someone who even as child was given too much responsibility and handled it the best he could. Still, Levi will be forever grateful for all his brother has gone through for them.

"Come with me." Levi's thoughts were interrupted by his older brother's voice.

The two men left the study and headed upstairs to the attic. Levi stood in the center of the room awkwardly as he watched Lucifer go through box after box, seemingly looking for something in specific.

The shuffling of boxes and baby coos were the only sounds in the room for a few minutes.

"Lucifer..." He called quietly. "Was...was it hard for you when you first had Satan?"

The other demon paused his search for moment before continuing.

"It's only natural that it was difficult for me." He explained. "After the shock of it all, I assumed that I could handle a child the same way I did with you seven. It was my own pride talking, convincing myself that a demon child of my own making could be easy to parent."

Levi couldn't see it, but his brother had a far away look on his eyes as he thought about it all. His own hubris was the undoing of any potential good standing with Satan.

He couldn't admit when he was wrong when he learned that he in fact couldn't handle Satan. The blonde had special needs that Lucifer couldn't have hoped to meet alone. The thought of seeking outside help was insulting to him at the time though.

Not seeking it was probably one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Levi never knew this nor will Lucifer speak this now. As far as his younger brother knows, he handled his attempt at parenting in stride and had it as handled as it possibly could have been. As far as his brothers are concerned, he always has things under control. He needs them to believe that. He needs them to believe that he can handle anything so they will come to him when they need help.

"Did it ever get easier?" Levi asked.

Lucifer shook his head.

"Your situation is not like my own." He explained. "You have MC. Between the two of you, I'd imagine this child has a fair shot at life."

"But I can't do anything right!" The younger demon raised his voice. "I'm just a stupid otaku. I can't even handle walking to the store on my own. How can I be a dad?"

At the sudden loudness, Kai wailed in his dad's arms. Freaked out, Levi started to bounce him and speak more softly to the newborn.

When the baby finally relaxed, Levi lifted his head to see that Lucifer was facing him now, watching the scene.

"For a man who can't do anything right, I think you handled that moment well enough."

"I was clearly panicking though."

"Yet it worked all the same." Lucifer turned away to pick up the box opened behind him.

With the box in hand, Lucifer walked around the remaining ones and came back out with a folded-up green crib in his other hand.

Wordless, the two brothers left the room, went down the stairs, and made their way to the living room. Levi sat on the couch as Lucifer set the objects in his arms down and left the room.

It was just him and Kai now, staring at one another. His son reached out and pat his cheek, giggling all the while. Levi smiled.

Despite all his anxiety, he couldn't help but love the small baby in his arms. Honestly, that's why he was he was so nervous--he loved his son so much that he didn't want to screw up.

Lucifer came back with a rag to wash the dust off of the crib.

"Yooo!" Mammon called from the doorway. "What the hell is all this?"

The two other brothers scowled.

"You're late." Lucifer scolded. "What part of 'be home by midnight' was too difficult for you?"

"I mean--wait, da fuck is that?" The second brother asked, only now noticing Kai.

"It's a baby, dumbass." The third brother rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean." The second one argued. "Who the hell popped one out this time?"

"MC," The oldest answered. "And the woman is now asleep so don't go pestering her with questions."

"I wasn't gonna! Sheesh..."

Kai start crying once more and this time, Levi easily bounced the baby into calmness.

Mammon flopped down next to Levi and leaned in towards Kai.

"Ey, despite being your kid, the fella's kinda cute."

Levi smiled proudly, not recognizing the insult.

"Of course he is."

After a moment, his smile faded.

"What's with that look all of a sudden?" Mammon asked.

"I still don't know how I'm gonna do this..." The third brother admitted. "I don't know the first thing about being a dad."

"So? Neither did Lucifer; that's where we came in."

That's true. Raising Satan did kinda end up as a family project after all.

"I guess..."

"Nah, no guessing needed. We got your back, man."

The more this sat with him, the more the new dad couldn't deny it. He wasn't alone through this; he had MC and his brothers. Yeah, they're dysfunctional as all hell, but he knows he can count on them.

And that makes all the difference.

[jaxxsoxxn]

Boomer flash head cannons, please 🥹🙏

——🦋

Henlo Butterfly anon <3! I've been lately caught in a slightly diff hyperfixation (ColdWeather/Hail ship my beloved) but I adore Boomer n Flasher always, so! (Also, I am writing more Boomer centric hcs in the back <3)

Since lately I've seen a hop up in Joker x Boomer content, I do think Flash would be less than happy about the clown's lack of understanding of personal space, especially with Digger.

He's not pissy! And if that nasty Jack-in-the-Box-lookalike gets in a few more accidents lately? Well- it must've been the wind.

I know I already talk about both JLA and the Rouges reacting to their relationship, but biggest supporters in both groups - somehow - are Hal and Axel (Green Lantern and The Trickster Jr.)

"But Sahe, Axel in one of the comics tied bombs to puppies! (Dogs technically, i think)" WE DO NOT CARE, I am absolutely making him more uhh imp-like silly guy. HE'S JUST A KID BEING OVERLYPROUD N SILLY TRUST

Hal, with his tendency to get attached to kids with bad decision making skills (cough cough Roy Harper) absolutely joins in with the kids shenanigans, rip Barry and Digger bc they are what connects them - so they are also their main victims

"Mr. Allen, why are you beefing with a child?" Trickster asked, while Barry couldn't help the annoyed twitch of his eyelid. Normally, Axel was his preferred Trickster to deal with - his tricks sometimes not only lighthearted, but also genuinely funny, while James was always too brash to be like that. But not today. "Mr. Walker..." he can't help the little smirk at younger man's grimace. Most twenty-something year olds hated being reminded of their age and their actual adulthood. "...why was there glitter in my shampoo?" Their living was at the moment rather complicated - Rouges, most of them at least, got uprooted by the chaos caused by the Skull-ship, so they ended up with healed JLA for now. As much as Flash could understand some people's distaste for his villains, it didn't mean he'd let them get under Waller and her little neck bombs. (He ignored the painful stab in his chest at the reminder of Boomer's bitter words "like a chipped dog" - that's how he felt and the fact that he was always on the brink of death drove his already stronger than most people's survival instincts insane) Before he got the answer he wanted, or more probable the one he didn't need, Digger's loud "Oh ya cunt!" broke trough the base, followed by an evil chuckle of Hal. As in the very same Hal Jordan that was flying towards the two of them, quickly making a finger that poked him in the ribs, making him let go of Axel with a squeak alike these of chickens or their beloved Gerbil. Soon his lover ran in after the Green menace, while the other two stood on the other side of the shared kitchen. Also with glitter on his- everywhere, really. "Oh, yar fuckin' with me." Digger said, as he pointed at the Flash, just before pointing at Axel. "No fuckin' way ya both did that." All he got back was two most innocent smiles ever, which said more than words. Barry was going to skin Hal.

After Owen and Axel start dating, Digger and speedy are menaces. Hal knows better than to get involved, because his romantic life is already pretty chaotic and the person he's dating at the moment? Bar would laugh to death. (Who is Hal dating? Uhh, whoever u want him to, bc my main ship with him is Booster Gold and lemme tell u - not many agree)

Boomer and Flash often nap together, since they both usually don't catch enough hours of sleep. Wally calls them old men because of it, and tbh, he's right.

Cap, after two months of dating, gets a small lightning tattoo on the middle of his neck from the backside. Barry takes a surprisingly long time to notice. His response is not PG, so let's not get into all that ;)

After a random enemy shoots trough it, scratching it on the side, and Flash suddenly ended the whole fight in 0.5 sec. Rip the poor goons that ended up on the wrong side of this fight.

Boomer and Flash are the couple that plays stupid games to see who cleans up, just to not clean up because they are needed somewhere.

You know the shitty "oh no, I got stuck in the washing machine" trope? Boomer's the most unlucky motherfucker ever, this man's fighting for his life every time. The first time he's so embarrassed that he stays there for an hour in silence, until his lover finally finds him.

Barry makes sure to not laugh because he knew that it would just make the situation worse, so he let it go, but ask Digger to never again be ashamed about needing help, even if it's something slightly suggestive.

"But it's shameful-" "Digi, I love you, but I also had my dick in your mouth two hours or so ago, please just say something."

Clothes sharing doesn't exactly work with them, since while Digger is pretty big all over (;)), he's also the master of not noticing stuff. This man wears anything that gets under his hand and if Flash has his costume down? He might wear it too, without noticing anything.

Barry on the other hand get's way too warm way too quickly. Most clothes Boomer buys are warm, because the difference in the weather from Australia to here hits him every time he visits his home, and that happens often.

This time a lil less headcanons cuz ive been bit busy n i wanna finally post this :'D imma link other hcs later :P

[peaches2217]

◉ - For your Mareach parents scenario, how soon after the baby’s born does Toadsworth get there? Is he in the room? I need to know cause “Papa” in the most recent headcanon made me CRY

I am SO happy people enjoy reading my unhinged headcanons as much as I enjoy writing them, I'm having so much fun 😭

Long post incoming, because y'all know by now I'm feral about this topic.

In the interest of keeping her comfortable (or at least less stressed, there’s not really any getting comfortable when you’re in labor), the nurses just set up shop in Peach and Mario’s room. Initially, Toadsworth stations himself outside of their door in an effort to shoo away meddlesome inquirers, because Toads are far too nosy for creatures without noses and their queen is having a baby so of course there's crowds forming. And he won't stand for that! There's a drawing room separating the bedroom from the hall, so you can't really hear anything going on inside, but just the thought of all those prying ears upsets him. Doesn't his little girl deserve some privacy?

And that goes on for a few hours, up to the point where he's wielding his cane like a baseball bat, until he swears he hears her scream. It's brief and muffled and he can't be entirely sure he didn't just imagine it, because no one else seems to have heard it, but that does him in. He promptly joins the dozens of other Toads pressing their faces against the door in a bid to make sense of what's happening.

("I feared she might be in a great deal of pain," he tries to justify to Daisy, who's immensely annoyed when she opens the drawing room door from the inside and Toadsworth is among the first to tumble to the floor. "She was," she tells him bluntly. Spoiler: that doesn't make him feel any better.)

You know how Toadsworth was the first person Peach told about her pregnancy? He's also the first one that wasn't in the room at the time who gets to meet the new baby. (Yes, even before Luigi! Only by a few minutes though, mind you.) He's almost immediately overwhelmed with conflicting emotions when he steps inside, because she looks so exhausted, and his heart hurts for her. But she still smiles the moment she sees him, and Mario is right at her side beaming brightly, and there's this little bundle of white blankets in her arms—

"This is your grandpa," she coos softly to her new daughter, carefully handing her off to Toadsworth.

He looks at this tiny little thing with dark hair and a button nose and he can't help but remember the day Peach was born. Though he was never intended to become her surrogate father, he knew from the moment he first saw her that he would die for her. And he realizes immediately that he'd do the exact same for this tiny human in his arms, because this is his little girl's little girl, and he loves them both more than any material possession in the world.

"Papa," Peach whispers not even ten minutes later. Mario's introducing his daughter to her uncles a few feet away, and she’s been watching them while Toadsworth has been fluffing her pillows and ensuring she has an adequate amount of blankets. Her eyes are puffy and heavy, and her voice is weak, but she looks blissfully content.

Toadsworth pats her hand. "You get some rest, my dear," he tells her. "I'll be right here should you need me." She nods and closes her eyes, gently squeezing his hand back, and Toadsworth pulls the blankets up to her chin as she dozes off. That was always how she preferred to be tucked in when she was a child.

[belle-keys]

An update to my chronic OCD and OCPD story: A new chapter?

So, in October of 2021, four months after I had gotten my official OCD and OCPD diagnoses, I made this post sort of briefly chronicling my experiences with OCD and OCPD since childhood (more so my OCD, as I really don’t have that much intense or debilitating OCPD symptoms). Little did I know that in June of 2022, I’d have a sudden, awful OCD relapse that would put me back on Paxil. So here’s how it’s been since then.

I obviously did not think I’d have an OCD relapse, but guess which stupidhead decided to stop taking Paxil the day before Ramadan started in April of 2022 and suffered unimaginable withdrawal symptoms while fasting and also on the most hormonally destructive birth control ever? I do think having an awful immediate post-Paxil period was what had kicked off the relapse. I didn't give myself time to experience withdrawal in a healthy way. And then I got Covid in May, hah. By June, my sleep schedule had not adjusted since my Covid had hit and I was only sleeping properly about 3 or 4 nights a week. I started compulsively ruminating about some vague stuff one day and then my sensorimotor OCD specifically dialed up to 100. I think I didn’t sleep for about five days straight before my mom was like… girl. You need to go back on the Paxil. Look at you. I was extremely hostile towards the idea of going on Paxil again, because it’d mean I’d be going into my fifth year of OCD medication and I’d have to deal with the pain of tapering and withdrawal all over again at some point. It felt like I was back to square one. This would have been my fourth time turning towards medication in desperation, my third ever OCD relapse, and I was like just please no. However, after another sleepless night, I realized I simply could not go on like this without doing anything. I kind of short-circuited and just agreed to restart the Paxil that day, and so I started a course in mid-June with an even larger dose than I had been taking in 2021.

I spent the rest of that vacation actually really chill and contented with life, no lie. I was really excited for uni to reopen in the fall. I was also feeling my obsessional doubts lurking about much less. My mind was quiet and lulled. Let me make it clear: my compulsions did not cease, they were just much less intense and less debilitating. I still did compulsions daily, in a maladaptive way. But I also started paying attention to the idea that, huh, maybe I don’t absolutely need to immediately do all my compulsions for several hours a day. If the medication can make the obsession go away, then the obsession’s not… real. Whoa. Like while on the Paxil, I knew my fears were still, logically speaking, wriggling behind the surface, but I wasn’t responding to them because I didn’t feel the anxiety and the panic they would usually cause. So, didn’t that mean that I simply… don’t have to respond at all? I won't die if I don't do it. So it was in October of 2022 I tried some very passive non-engagement and non-responsive strategies for the first time on my own. I would simply remind myself that I don’t have to do this thing even when I felt the mortal urge to do the thing and that I wouldn’t collapse into pieces if I didn't do the thing. I was still drugged up, but it was a turning point in my OCD journey where I applied some logic to my predicament and realized I don’t need to be doing any of these compulsions at all for something catastrophic not to happen. By last fall, my OCD was revolving around four main themes (the usual suspects): existential OCD, sensorimotor OCD, general Pure-O, and perfectionism OCD. Since I was a small child, I have had multiple theme switches but these are the ones that have stayed for the last couple of years. I discovered last fall that non-engagement was very much doable (even though I wasn’t actively doing ERP yet).

By the first week of 2023, I firmly decided I wanted to make a change in my life: cut off the meds and stop being plagued by OCD. So I started researching the basics of ERP, the different ERP models, stuff like ACT and ICBT, and liaising with therapists. (These different treatments and acronyms are all easily googleable so... yeah.) The nature of my OCD is 90% mental and almost constant, and so it was decided between me and my psychiatrist that I'd have to do my exposures by myself, which was ultimately for the better. I supplemented the time not spent in a therapist's office by listening to podcasts by psychiatrists, licensed clinicians, and certified counselors which tremendously helped me as I started practicing ERP. And ERP is brutal, like I cannot stress this enough. I compiled a list of notes and ERP instructions to follow, following the model of RF-ERP developed by Dr. Michael Greenberg whose articles on OCD have completely changed the way I conceptualize OCD, and they deffo sped up my recovery. Ali Greymond's model for reducing OCD compulsions also immensely helped me on a daily basis to reduce compulsions and navigate recovery. The theories behind ICBT also helped me "respond" to my OCD in a logical realistic way, even though I don't believe ICBT in a bubble will truly work for me by itself to reduce my OCD; I think it'd only fuel rumination if used in isolation for me. What has really worked for me on the individual level is ERP using the Inhibitory Learning Model, supplemented with ICBT theory as a secondary measure. I truly believe each OCD client needs a customized approach to OCD treatment depending on their individual symptoms and compulsions. For example, traditional ERP sees obsessions as something "normal" and intrusive, which I've come to fundamentally reject and instead choose to see as the obsessional doubt which is is part of the obsessional process, following the ICBT model. However, to get rid of my intense compulsions and reduce the grip of the obsessional doubt on me, I still need to mainly do ERP using an Inhibitory Learning model. I don't see enough of ICBT being applicable to all of my obsessions and compulsions nor do I believe ICBT will work well enough on its own for my frequent theme switches. I think ICBT helps me logically conceptualize the obsessional doubt as a mechanism and reiterates everything I learn in ERP, but doing ERP with Inhibitory Learning is what primarily helps me understand and accept that the obsessional doubt was never true in and of itself and that not acting on it is always possible.

Most importantly, I stopped Paxil at the end of January 2023 after taperin for 3 months before. And I gave myself an ample emotional window to deal healthily with withdrawal while also doing ERP multiple times daily. Which feels great. I was honestly sick and tired of living on medication for 5 years straight. Honestly, I feel like I've made some leaps in terms of non-engagement with my OCD symptoms. In the past it was always "I'll just mellow my mind with the meds" but I've come to realize my own personal agency in terms of doing compulsions. A major step I've made was the dissolution of the Thought Parliament and the Thought Guard (my psychiatrist approves of the names). For many years, I've manually sorted through and compartmentalized my different thoughts in a large mental cabinet that was carefully surveyed. I essentially, for many years, had my thoughts categorized and sorted in folders and cupboards, which I've come to name the Thought Parliament. I also used military-esque strategies to do the constant "checks and balances" on my thoughts in the Thought Parliament, a process which I've thusly named the Thought Guard. For the first time in my life, I've not let the Thought Parliament and Thought Guard dictate my life and I've been kinda normal in the head. I could not believe that this is how the majority of people live their lives, that is, with the absence of the constant irritation concerning just... regular thinking and information processing. It feels like coming up for air after being submerged for my whole life. As I had explained in Part 1, since I was a kid I've had OCD and so it's been very difficult for me to separate my OCD from myself, constantly defined by precise self-imposed mental rituals, and so it's quite a jarring (but welcome) experience to just think normally and realize I'm very capable of that.

I had a couple of setbacks in mid-March and early April. I've had several minor setbacks since starting ERP which is entirely normal, but I haven't had any signs of a relapse. I've tried to remain consistent in doing ERP and listening to information about OCD and ERP a few times weekly. Likewise, when I was diagnosed with OCPD, my psychiatrist said it's less about my visible behaviors-slash-relationships and more about my values and thought processes in terms of how my OCPD manifests. Essentially, my OCPD has often been one of the main driving forces of my OCD which in turn made my OCPD stronger. So I've been trying to reorient my values and be more mindful of my clinical perfectionistic tendencies, my workaholism, my rigidness. And I'm grateful that I've been doing better. I find I feel light-hearted when I conceptualize my mental health future right now. So I'm officially considering myself in OCD recovery, which isn't something I've ever actually done before. I think (I hope) that I experienced some growth this Ramadan, and so I'm going to try to keep the best of the holy month with me as I go forward into 2023. If you wanna discuss any of what I talked about here privately or via an ask, that's fine, but no reblogs on this post please!

[galactic-pirates]

Hello! For the Truth & Dare ask game:

🛼, 🍄,🍬, and☁️, please! :)

🛼 describe your latest wip with five emojis

😼🔫🐉🔥🌳

🍄 share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I absolutely LOVE this question and then when I get to answering it I am like “hmm?” because honestly sometimes I forget what is headcanon and what is canon 😛 I have so many I think.

Ok I will go with the first one that comes to mind - reason for the distance between Helen and James in the one present day episode he appears.

Now I ship them obviously and so them being on opposite sides of the world?!? That’s just sad. Until I watched season 3 (so the headcanon I used in my first long fic Our Darkest Hour) I thought that maybe it was hard enough for Helen to live with her own pain re: John, and she couldn’t live with James’ as well. This was totally jossed with Helen and James obviously being together in Normandy but then season 4 and the time travel came out and it all made perfect sense.

James didn’t move to Old City with Helen, because future/time travel Helen needed him. He could never tell Helen about her future self (protecting the timeline) and it would have been a little funny but also not if she thought he was having an affair. Future/time travel Helen didn’t have anyone else. So James concocted some lie about how London had been the first Sanctuary, consequently the British government was much more involved etc. and that he should stay head of house. So they went very long distance. I suspect Helen believed that James maybe had an issue with her unchanging state, and his increasing reliance on technology to fight infirmity. How pleased he was to see her whenever she visited/he visited, and how ok he was with her then, would kind of go against that but what other explanation was there? It was her only theory.

I do feel bad for Helen for not understanding and being lonely. Then when the time travel happened she went “oh.” as she realised that James had always chosen her, she just hadn’t seen it.

Also as a connected headcanon I firmly believe that Helen “coloured between the lines” in the sense of so long as she ensured her past selfs memories remained the same, then who is to say it didn’t always go this way? And thus she found a way to save James, and John, and of course Ashley. I touched on this in my “Out of the Shadows” fic which was supposed to be an AU of the ‘missing moments’ fic I was going to write about what was really going on behind season 4 (aka you can’t prove it’s not canon) but alas I never got round to it and now never will.

🍬 post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Fun question! Mind is blank. I think where I struggle is the “unpopular” part. I don’t know if something is unpopular or not, I’m a champion at missing social things. Maybe a lot of people would agree with me - or maybe nobody would. I tend to find it mostly falls somewhere in between. It’s like in fandom the whole “stay in your lane” thing. We find people who mostly view the media like we do, or are accepting enough of differences in opinion so as not to cause conflict.

Take Sanctuary for instance. I know I am in a minority in shipping Helen/James/John because it certainly feels like the popular ship is Teslen. I like Nikola a lot but I just prefer him and Helen as friends. No hate to shippers. I think I write it in most of my fics that if John and James weren’t around then Helen and Nikola might develop romantically one day (immortality is a long time). I suppose an unpopular opinion could be my discomfort if I ever do peek into Teslen content, at what they do to John’s character. That’s entirely on me of course, I know better than to be curious, and obviously I use the backspace button and never say a word.

I firmly believe that John’s abusive/evil tendencies came from the energy parasite we saw in Haunted. That the compulsion was not his own. That he learned to manage it over time, to make the killings less brutal, and to need to kill less, but he had to give in/feed it otherwise he did lose all control. And worse of course is that he didn’t know he was possessed (and I do see it as a possession). I realise that this read is not universal. I have seen people instead relate it to an addiction and that John had more of a choice in everything, and that he chose wrong. They say that that he was always bad: misogynistic. That the evidence of him wanting to go back in time, wipe out Helen’s independence - I don’t see it that way either. I think he didn’t want to have that damn parasite AND he still had that parasite. I think that evil parasitic voice, that for a century he didn’t realise wasn’t his own demons, was capable of twisting almost anything. Taking John’s wish to not be a killer, his pain, his regret and twisting it to justify the time travel. Plus show me someone that doesn’t want a redo, and I will show you a liar. I’m not really joking. So many nights I lay in bed just wishing I could go back and do things differently - it’s a very natural impulse. John did take it too far in actually trying to make it reality but then - possession.

Ahem sorry that got long.

I don’t know how much of this is unpopular ^^ but probably quite a lot. John is vilified far more than he is defended. I just can’t see Helen ever giving John the time of day if he was always a bastard. I know women do that - smart, intelligent, otherwise strong women - can get in messes of relationships. I’m not saying it’s impossible but it’s not how I see it.

Please don’t anyone take this the wrong way. This is just my opinion and zero hate to anyone for thinking otherwise. I do obviously disagree as stated but we are all entitled to our interpretations and there’s room enough in the fandom for everyone.

☁️ what made you choose your username?

I saw an aesthetic for Vala Mal Doran (Stargate SG-1) and it had a graphic for “Space Merc” and I thought that was so cool. Obviously that username was taken so I played around with word variants until I found one that wasn’t taken - galactic pirates. I have grown rather fond of it now 🥰