#like i just don't feel like painting lmao i open it and i do Three things and i'm like ok i'm done for today

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi Hal!

Congratulations on finishing all the requests (there were so many good ones!!) and thank you for opening them up again!! I’m excited to see what you have in store for us with all your other projects, bestie!!! 😊😊

I was unsure of who to request at first because there are so many good ones but then I saw Hesh’s name and an idea hit me.

If you’re ok with it, could you possibly write one for Hesh where the reader is part of the Ghosts has been taken/captured by the Federation and after some time, they get intel on where she is so they go out to rescue her and she and Hesh are reunited? I don’t know if you want it to be a pre-established relationship or one where they both admit their feelings after they get her back, so I’m leaving it up to you. But I need a little rescue/reunion fic to fill the void in my heart that the ending of Ghosts made.

As always, feel free to change it up as you see fit and do whatever you want. I just think that Hesh deserves more love and I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Riley again (aka: the best dog in the world)!!

Thank you and remember to take care of yourself and I appreciate you and your work!! 💕💕 Love you, bestie!!!!

Lengths Of Love

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd loved Hesh for as long as you can remember, and you'd pulled him out of trouble for even longer, but you'd never had the courage to tell him how you feel. Until you do. Until you're being dragged away from his broken body.

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Major spoilers for CoD: Ghosts, heavy angst, blood, guts, descriptions of wounds, canon-typical violence, weapons and firearms, death, torture involving: drugs/hallucinogens, physical violence, mental stress, talks of PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, rescue fic, best friends to lovers plot, wounds that would 100% kill you that you live from (plot armor fr), etc.

A/N: Bestie, I don't know what you put into your prompts, lmao, but I always end up writing so much for you!! Thanks so much for sending something in <3<3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The beginning of the end started with good intentions and one statement. 

“You hear this? It’s Rorke. He’s here. They’re evacuating on the train system below.” Hesh’s green eyes darted to you and Logan, his painted face a collection of rage and surety. The three of you were, in an instant, in agreement of revenge—there was no question as to what had to be done. Merrick couldn’t stop you, not on this. 

Rorke had made one of the most dangerous decisions of his life, and that was underestimating the Walker boys and their partner in sinful crime. 

“Harp,” you look away from the body of the warhead as it enters the atmosphere, locking onto Hesh’s hard eyes; the ones that had grown steadily colder since the death of his father, Elias. But it wasn’t just him—the patriarch had been close to you as well. The knowledge of his passing, witnessing it as the rope restraints seared into your flesh, had lit an all-consuming fire in your gut.

Like hounds, the scent of blood had hit the air. 

“Let’s get the bastard. Now or never,” you ease out, and Logan darts his gaze down to you from behind his balaclava. 

“Damn right,” Hesh barks, nodding firmly to you.

Anyone would have missed the way your gaze lingered on him as he darted off and began rushing down the stairs from the control room, Logan ever quick at his heels. But they wouldn’t have missed the way your breath pushed out a soft sigh as your eyes kept locked on the back of Hesh’s head as you followed after. 

You’d been childhood friends since practically infancy, a neighbor to the Walkers. It was natural that Hesh would grow to be the object of your daydreams ever since grade school; a constant and digging knife into your heart when he’d repeatedly pick other girls over you.

But such was life. 

All that mattered now was bringing down Rorke, silly love could wait.

“Merrick,” Hesh yelled down his line, the world outside this building rampant with open war. “The missile’s away and we’ve got a lead on Rorke, we’re going after him!” 

The white double doors meet the three of you as you all rush to them, and the panicked man’s voice flashes down the line immediately. 

“Negative Hesh! You three get back here and return to the rally point. We’ll track him down together.”

You call, “Isn’t an option, Merrick. We can’t let this one go.” 

You and Hesh ram your shoulders into the doors, Logan darting through first with his weapon drawn down the hallway. The brunette’s and your shoulders brush in a jostling of gear—pulling the back as your eyes lock. Cold light seeps from overhead, metal under your feet clanking in-key.

You look away before Hesh agrees and levels with the Ghost over the line to push your point. “Sorry, Merrick. Your mission is complete…ours isn’t.”

Federation heads pop up from behind makeshift barriers of barrels and other stacked items and as you all enter and clear rooms, alarms blare with the ferocity of fighting lions. Hesh keeps by your side, offering you openings that you greedily take as another soldier falls with a stiff twitch of your finger on the trigger. 

Darting behind cover, the man slams to the space beside you, calling over above the noise and the whizz of bullets.

“How long till impact?!” You shove a new clip into your FAD, brushing sweat and blood from your cheeks, smearing patches of your own paint. 

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you hear Logan pushing the line. You dart out of cover to help—locking onto hostiles and backing up the younger brother with quick feet.

“Eight minutes, Hesh! You got a plan that doesn’t leave me with scorched hair?” He finds it in himself to laugh, clocking a soldier to your left and riddling him with bullets. 

“We need to get to that train, Harp. Don’t worry—I’ll kiss the burns away for you.” He rushes past and sends a smirk over his shoulder. You’re left stunned for a second, wishing that the teasing tilt to the older brother’s words was more than that. You blink, and the feeling is forced away.

Later.

“Keep pushing, Logan,” Hesh moves on. You all sprint down descending ramps, farther and farther underground with every step; adrenaline building to a breakneck level like weight slowly being added over and over to a chest. “We need to get to Rorke!” 

You didn’t want to tell him, but, while revenge was on your plate as well, this was a very reckless idea.

As you grab for a grenade from your belt and jerk on the pin, you chuck it down the way and call out a warning to the boys, who, like a well-oiled machine, dart and wait for it to detonate. Bodies fly, bloody splashes of torn limbs, and three Ghosts materialize from the smoke with masked and painted faces; eyes like fire and veins boiling. 

“Fire team suppressed in 3-1,” Hesh shouts through the line as you slide your knife into a man’s eye, his goggles breaking in a shattering of glass. “Advancing to loading bay!” 

There’s a large elevator ahead for transporting crates, and all of you jog inside as the gate creaks shut.

Merrick’s stiff voice replies, “Roger that.”

Silently, you click into the channel and mutter out as a moment of relative peace coats your body like a blanket, even if for a few small seconds. 

“I’ll keep ‘em safe,” a small twitch of your lips, “Commander.”

A deep and unimpressed voice wafts into your ear with a large sigh. “Know you will—just remember to keep yourself safe in the process, Kid…Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shift your gaze to Hash and find green already staring at you. Blinking, the man quickly darts his vision away and after a moment you turn your face back down to the connection and huff through a burning epidermis.

“Haven't you heard?” The elevator shows the train as it descends down, and you call to the boys, ‘six minutes’, with a firm voice. 

“Stupid seems to follow us three everywhere.”

Hesh points as the figures of more soldiers walk around below. “There’s Rorke’s train, straight ahead!” Sure enough, the worm of black and gray metal extends to your eyes across the large room

“He’ll be on there soon. Logan, take left.” You order and the brown-eyed man nods from beside you, shouldering his rifle and checking the clip. “Hesh?” 

“Taking right—you got Point, Doll.” He stares at you, licking his lips. “Clear the way?” You tilt your head at him as the elevator jumps to a stop, the barrier sliding away. It pains you to look away.

There were so many things you had to tell him. Too many things. 

“Always.” Shiting your face forward, you take a breath and take notice of points of cover, scoping the room in three seconds flat. Screeching wheels and alarms ingrain your eardrums. “On me.” 

As you head out first, fire the first bullet, the two peel off in opposite directions, Hesh only sliding up beside you and uttering into your ear.

“Be safe.” 

That comment makes you want to be anything but, if only he’d whisper into your ear like that again. 

Clearing the room, you can’t get your mind off the fact that this crush was overtaking nearly every part of your life—years of quiet agony and staying your tongue in fear of losing what great friendship you had. 

The stock set into your shoulder recoils with another burst of fire, Federation soldiers scream in pain, but you barely register over the shadows in the sides of your vision. 

“Damnit, Hesh,” you growl, bullet grazing your shoulder as you grunt and slip behind a concrete divider. 

“What’s that?” Your eyes widen comedically. Shit…had you forgotten to close the line? 

“Eh,” you clear your throat, grimacing at the small sparks of pain in your shoulder. “N-nothing.” 

There’s a bout of silence and then a panting voice, rough and growing more serious. “You alright over there, Harp?” You can’t even respond before Hesh quickly continues. “I’m comin’ to you. Stay there.”

You violently shake your head, although he can’t see it.

“Hesh, I’m fine! Keep right and clear that hallway.” 

There’s a deep grunt. “Fine, but if I see one scratch I’m makin’ Riley chase you down the Base when we get back.”

If we get back.

You roll your eyes with a growing smile, steeling yourself and slamming your weapon to the top of the divider before locking onto your targets. “Please, we both know he loves me too much for that.”

“Most I’ll have to do is put a treat in your pocket, Sweetheart.” His sly smirk is heard easily, and you swallow tense-like and breathe shakily. That low drawl in his tone left you more distracted than you could ever get used to. “Hell,” There’s a struggle over the line before the shink of a knife meeting flesh. A breathless chuckle that leaves your gut swirling. “Maybe I’ll just chase you down myself.”

Logan coughs over the line and you have to click off before you scream. Your face flares up until your ears ring and you have to duck behind your cover again before you get metal right to the forehead. 

Behind the barrier, you glare at the floor.

When did general teasing get so hard for you? Jokes and jabs carrying weight—since when? Sure you’d liked—more liked loved—Hesh since before all of this, but you’d carried on well enough. 

“Fucking hell,” you grumble, shaking your head to clear it and rushing. 

The brothers pop through the side hallways to flank the enemy, taking out the one or two hostiles that were still breathing after you level your barrel with the last standing head; firing with a burst of gunpowder.

“Train’s leaving, let's go!” Hesh screams, waving an arm quickly at you, walking backwards on quick feet. “Harp, C’mon!” 

You chuff, hopping the divider and sprinting as the metal object speeds up—there’s a moment where you fear you might miss it, Hesh and Logan both forced to hop on even in your absence.

“Harp!” Green eyes flash, one hand on the railing and the other extended out. 

“On it!” Snapping, you slam your palm into his and feel his strong fingers curl to clutch you. Logan grabs your collar and helps; the both of them easily yanking you over just as the wall of the tunnel engulfs you all in illuminated shadow.

Back meeting the train’s body, you pant and chuckle as Logan shakes his head, amused, and pats your shoulder. You wink at him jokingly. 

“Good save there, Walker Number Two.”

Hesh grabs the side of your neck, looking you over as he leans back with a breathless chuckle at the title for his brother. He blinks quickly at your shoulder, eye narrowing before he reaches out and looks at the blood on your gear.

“You mind telling me what this is, Doll?” You make a nose in the back of your throat as the smell of his musk hits your nostrils; the deadly concoction of his scent and his digging gaze.

Stuttering, you huff. “Eh…bullet graze?”

You’re leveled with thin lips, but Logan grabs his brother by the upper arm and peels him off you, motioning to his radio as the train gains even more speed. Wind whips past your face as Hesh clears his throat, quickly avoiding your eyes. 

The man’s splotchy paint shows his red skin under the darker pigment. 

“Merrick, we’re on the train,” he speaks, shifting past you without another look. “We’re going after Rorke.”

“Solid Copy.” You watch the brunette walk away and hold your breath, though you don’t know why—heart beating not just because of adrenaline. 

Embarrassment breeding in your stomach, you ignore Logan’s knowing stare and push off the wall, rubbing at your bleeding shoulder with a stiff hand. 

—

You break a man’s neck against the wall, hand on the back of his head before you slam it into the hard metal. There’s a crunch of bone and a broken rattle before the broadcasted feed from the screen on the train’s panel spits out a message in panicked Spanish to the already deceased men.

“Evacuation protocol C is in effect. All personnel secure cargo and supplies—”

Hesh interrupts ahead of you as you let the body drop, scowling at the heavy sound of its dead weight. At his angry voice, you perk and tune in.

“Tell Rorke we’re comin’ for him.” There’s a quick shove from the other end of the feed, the previous man disappearing as the individual that takes his place makes your eyes go to slits. A great growl like a wolf echoes from your heart and seeps from between your clenched teeth. 

Rorke’s scarred face appears with a smirk and a cocky voice.

“Why don’t you just tell me yourself?” You look at your boys, more concerned for them as you watch firsthand the trauma the death of their father brought them. 

Logan holds his weapon tighter, fixing his grip. Hesh is a bit more direct. He leans closer to the screen, bearing his teeth like a dog and snarling with rage and hatred.

“You’re done, Rorke.” All of a sudden he peels back a fast fist and sends it careening into the screen—making a shattering of glass and a hard thud emanate deep into your bones. 

Blinking quickly, you tense as it happens, not expecting that. But as soon as you try to make sense of it, the brunette is already banking off to the side door, calling a sharp, “Let’s finish this!”

He grabs the side of the train car and wrenches on the handle, grunting and pushing with all of his might.

“Hesh,” you try to reason, stepping in now before things get too hot. “We need to think of a plan before you rush into things. This could get us in a heap of shit that we might not be able to get out of.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, and you spare a glance with Logan for help. But he, too, has already joined his brother with a swish of gear on the handle. With one great push, the door opens to the outside brightness, making your face turn away for a moment. 

Along the far expanse of open sand dunes outside; mountains flanking the bridge this train flies across, you get the perfect view of a warhead meeting the ground in an explosion of fire and death. It bursts far across the valley, and you cover your eyes as the sharp ball of light burns your retinas. 

The shockwave hits moments later, and Hesh says easily as the train shakes and squeals like a metal pig, “Looks like Icarus got control of the rods!” The boys step out onto the platform along the train, and you have no option but to follow. “All that’s left is Rorke, let's go!”

“Hesh,” you try again, hissing out his name, and you’re graced with a quick glance.

“Harp,” he comments, “what is it? We can’t wait any longer—”

“What we can’t do is go in blind!” You shout above the wind, legs stanced to help you stay up. Green eyes twitch with confusion, perhaps even a little hurt. 

“Blind? What are you talking about, we push forward and take what’s owed.” You know how much this means to him—to Logan—but there was a point where pride and stubbornness outweighed sense. This was dangerous, especially for Hesh. 

You were always the one to keep him level; keep him from becoming too much like his dad. 

You’d promised that old bastard you’d look after his boys, albeit in a teasing sense, but to you, it had been a stark vow on your soul. Logan was a brother to you, and Hesh…Hesh would always be more, but that only made your love for them both grow. 

“You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear? They mean well, but there’s no one I trust more than you to level them out, Harp. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.” Elias had said that, and when he died you bottled it up and used so much force that coal had turned to diamond. 

You would keep Logan and Hesh safe. Safe, and level, and not hard-headed. 

For as much as you secretly loved your brunette, he sure was stubborn as all hell.

“If you want out, Harp,” Hesh calls to you, gritting his teeth. “Just wait back in the train car. This is something we can’t put off like everything else—this ends now; today. I’m not letting Dad’s killer survive.”

“Son of a bitch, that’s not what I’m saying!” You’re quickly losing your standing. Logan jogs ahead to scout, time ticking. “Hesh, you know that I loved Elias as much as you two did—not one is denying that this needs to happen. I'm with you. But this is too damn dangerous! We can’t rush into this without a plan of attack; of exfil! Do you even know how we’re going to get off of this thing?!” 

Hesh had been isolating the few days he had on the U.S.S Liberator, keeping to his room. The man idolized his father and put him on a pedestal of gold even when he was a teenager. He’d even pushed away from you, which all together was unheard of. Logan had nearly had an aneurism when you’d come back to the cafeteria and shook your head in disappointment after trying to get him to open his door. 

The two of you told each other everything. Always. That was just…how it was.

But the man that Hesh had donned the skin of was not the man you loved.

Hesh glares at you, eyes going alight with anger. 

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t be holding me back.” He turns and runs after Logan, leaving you behind in the open air as the train banks left and right with the sway of the bridge. 

Staring. Barely breathing. Mouth parted and eyes wide. 

When the man is at the end of the current train car, having to jump a small distance to the next, he pauses. His back is tight, and under him, his feet shuffle. 

There’s a moment you hope he’ll turn around and come back, take you into one of his hugs, and squeeze the life out of you. It wouldn’t be such a cruel way to die, you think, to be held in his arms. 

But the next moment you see the back of his head shake, and he jumps over to the next section, not even giving you a second glance.

You don’t want to admit how long you waited there, your mind jumbled and confused. 

Don’t take it personally, you try to tell yourself, sucking down a breath before slowly walking forward. He’s hurt. Grieving. He didn’t mean it.

Rationality was a tool of the level-headed, and you were anything but that nowadays.

Over the line Hesh’s voice makes you flinch as you slowly follow after, train car after train car.

“Rorke must be at the front of the train!” You step over dead bodies and lend merciful bullets to the ones still writhing, boots coated in crimson. Following a trail of wreckage with stiff lungs. 

Stay out of his way? Fine, you could do that.

You stayed back from the head-to-head fighting, laying covering fire and keeping off the comms—whenever Hesh managed to look back at you, you simply moved on to the next hostile. 

Eventually, you all ended up on the rooftops, the boys far ahead and yourself blank-faced at the rear. Logan was acting more concerned than Hesh was, glancing at you constantly in confused worry. But it was very much short-lived.

“Incoming!” The right side of the railcar bursts with fire, and you gasp before grappling for the opposite side of the train, keeping you there before the swaying beast leveled out. “Helos. Take cover and take out the gunners!”

You scoff, quickly making your way behind a connector joint to lean your back against it and catch your breath. Two helicopters fly alongside the train, Logan already firing at one, and Hesh…your eyes narrow with annoyance. Hesh was already running ahead of the pack, his low grunts and growls over the line giving way to his impatience. 

You click your jaw and try to remind yourself that this is the same man who held you close during movie nights and carried you to bed when you fell asleep. Made you waffles when your boyfriend in eighth grade broke up with you on Valentine’s Day.

Stitched your wounds before he gave them a teasing ‘kiss better’ and looked up at you through dark lashes. 

You wildly shake your head to force yourself back to the present.

The gunners are harder to hit not only based on wind and distance alone, but on the erratic movements of the pilots. It’s several clips before you down the second Helo, and Logan’s follows immediately after as they both collide and ram into the mountainside.

You both share a glance and rush after the misguided brunette. 

At the end of the train, only the engine remains. 

“Clear!” Hesh relays, jumping down from the roof of the railcar and hurriedly walking to the white door, leaning against the wall. “We’re at the last car, Logan. Rorke’s pinned, he knows we’re comin’.”

You gaze down from the top as Logan follows, silent and brooding. Your hands along your FAD tighten under your gloves. You don’t even look at the man. 

“Merrick, do you copy?”

“Copy, Hesh.”

“We’re moving in on Rorke.” You slide him a look, seeing him glaring those pretty greens into the ground. “If you hear the word “Checkmate”, you will fire on our position! Confirm?” Your eyes snap with horror, heart lurching.

Surely, you hadn’t heard that right.

Merrick’s voice echoes your frozen confusion. “Say again, repeat your last.”

You jump down and stagger for a moment, barking out a harsh, “What the fuck are you doing?” Inside of your chest, your heart rampages like it never had before. “That’s suicide!”

He was going to kill everyone to bring down Rorke, and you get no answer beyond a clenched jaw and a quick side-eye.

“You heard me, Merrick, on “Checkmate”, hit this train!” The connection is cut and Logan gets into position to shoulder the door open, you watch, stuttering. 

Hesh levels with his brother, “We can’t take any chances, Logan. Even if we fail, Rorke dies.” Panic builds, and you’re taking quick steps forward.

You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear?

You have to stop them, you have to drag them away—but even you know that deep down the only thing that will stop these two is a bullet. 

Eyes snapping back and forth, you only get close enough to try and snatch at Hesh’s arm right as he finishes a countdown of three; at the end, Logan kicks down the engine room door with a violent connection of his boot.

Even with the drop on the three guards inside, it doesn't stop the bullet from ripping through your lower side, preoccupied and distracted yet again. You yell loudly, balking back into the door frame and hunching over as blood spurts out of you. Hesh’s head whips your way immediately, jaw going slack and a soul-deep hysteria takes over.

So now he pays attention.

“Shit, Harp!” So little time. 

Logan can’t take care of the last remaining Fed soldier by himself, and in a large act of self-sabotage, that very soldier just happened to have a missile launcher. 

The entire left engine explodes—the train jerks; everyone is sent in a back-and-forth motion, first hitting off the last train car before being sent right back through the engine room entirely. A transference of force gives you whiplash as your head bounces off the door frame. 

The world goes blurry, body hitting and slamming through layers of glass and pain before the control room is suddenly where you end up, using the body of a stunned guard as a cushion. 

There’s a second of muffled gunfire, struggling and yelling—and then it all comes back into focus like a sniper’s scope being correctly sighted. You gargle an expletive and shove the guard under you back down despite the searing heat in your side and head; struggling to unsheathe your combat knife as the world tilts. 

Hands push at your cheeks, grip at your neck futilely, but when you get the blade out and struggle the hands down once more, you hammer the point into his throat with a thump of your boot pressing for purchase on the floor. 

The man spasming, you push off of him and slam to the ground, coughing in great lung-shattering segments.

“You can’t win, Rorke!” Hesh’s voice brings you back from the swirling, and you hear your blood patter to the metal floor like rain.

“Shit,” you mutter, gasping for air. 

Gazing up you see Rorke holding Logan in a chokehold, free hand pointing a gun at Hesh. Your eyes bulged, trying to push onto your knees and reach for your weapon as you saw Hesh continually looking away from the target and worriedly watching you. His hands at his sides are loose, but when you lock eyes with him, they clench and shake. 

“It’s over—” He tries, but the loud gunshot bounces off the train’s enclosed space. You’re yelling before you can think, darting forward and leveling your gun right to Rorke’s head as Hesh’s form collapses to the ground.

Standing on unsteady feet, you pant and stumble, but the devil’s brown eyes hold you captive. Rorke smirks as you guard Hesh behind you. 

“Well, well, well, seems the girl’s just as promising as you, eh, Logan? She’s the other one who slipped her binds in Las Vegas.” He laughs. “Look at me, I’m surrounded by young talent.” 

“I don’t exactly care if you are or aren’t,” you growl, shuffling to keep Hesh even farther behind you as you instrumentally cough again. Your legs are wobbling. “Just that you put my fucking friend down.”

“You willing to die for him?” Rorke looks demented, with his scar and his intimidating build. Whatever torture he had been through to make him like this—a Ghost killer—it had worked perfectly. There was no coming back from this. He whistles lowly. “That’s some loyalty you have there.”

His mind was dead to all else.

You don’t hesitate in an answer, even as the man behind you grabs your leg, trying to move you with a wheezing breath.

“H-Harp,” his spine moves in a cough. “Don’t…please.”

“Always.” Interest alights in those dark, tiny eyes. Logan tries to give you messages with his gaze, but you ignore him. Ironic. “That’s not something I’ll break on. Unlike you.”

“Shit, Kid,” there’s a grand laugh, “now that’s heartless…but good,” Rorke glances at Hesh, raising a brow and chuckling. “I’ll love to see the look in his eyes when I—”

“Checkmate!”

“Checkmate confirmed.” You look down at Hesh and see him watching you, his gaze open and bare. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, but all you can do is watch. 

There’s no time to think.

“I love you,” you confess in a fleeting moment of bare nothingness, blurting it out. “I’ve loved you.”

Hesh’s body entirely halts, jaw slowly slackening in horror; something shifts behind his eyes but before he can open his mouth, a rageful bark bullies the smooth tone of his throat back.

“What did you do?!” Your form is bodied into the controls behind you, colliding as you snarl and are forced to recover. With a snap of your finger, you fire a shot into Rorke’s foot. 

He yells and whips his wrist back, slamming the butt of his gun into your temple. 

As the bridge ahead of the train explodes, Hesh drags himself to cover your body, muttering into your flesh words you cannot name as the darkness sets in.

“It’s over,” Hesh speaks grimly to Rorke, turning to look at him silently as he presses your head into his chest, sharing a nod and thin-lipped look with Logan still stuck in his arm. “It’s over.”

“Shit, Son…” The train gets thrown and broken in a wave of utter destruction and rebirth; and through it all, Hesh never lets go—not even when the water below comes up to meet you.

—

The beach’s sand is coarse, and it sticks to your gear with a fervent hold. To your skin, the paint, and blood, for the moment washed away as hands dragged you from the water, small puffs of breath and whimpers greeting you. 

“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Hesh. And he sounded frantic. “C’mon, open…open your eyes, dammit. Please, you just told me the best thing you possibly could. Please.” 

Water slips off your neck, and as you’re weakly lying back, propped against a rock, hands slip to your cheeks, moving the skin as a barely conscious body tries to make you wake up. 

A forehead hits against your shoulder, a deep groan of pain emanating from the man who grips at your gear.

“No, no, c’mon,” Hesh can barely keep himself sitting up, bloody and broken. Logan had to drag him from the water not seconds prior, and in turn, Hesh had grabbed what little strength was left and helped him get you. “Logan!” Green darts to brown, and the older brother pleads in a broken voice, “Help me!”

You bend your head forward and cough up blood and water, shoving Hesh away from you so you can collapse on your side and expel your stomach.

“Harp,” the man quickly mutters, dragging himself over and grabbing your shoulder to keep your face out of the sand. “Fuck, okay—it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“You,” your voice cuts out, and you shake as you gasp and sputter, “A-are a fucking idiot!” 

Hesh chuckles, and you feel his head hit off your arm, his struggling breath. “God, I know. I know, Sweetheart.” 

Logan crawls over to you, pushing you back against the rock and grappling for his medical pouch as Hesh patches into the comms. You grunt and look down at the younger brother, head swirling in colors and ears pounding with your pulse. 

“Merrick, do you copy? Merrick, come in.”

“Hesh! Hesh, is that you?” You weakly smirk at the shock and relief from the tone, letting your head tilt back as Logan hurriedly packs your gunshot wound with gauze. You wince and stare at the sky—blood infectiously tinging the sand below you. 

Hesh tries to help too, but you and the man are in far worse shape than Logan. The older brother’s shoulder leans into yours heavily, and you shift your eyes to the side as they flutter.

You haven't forgotten what you told him, what you confessed, but right now pushing back the black in the sides of your vision was more important.

And Rorke. What had happened to Rorke?

“Yeah,” Hesh watches you, face screwed with concern. “Yeah, I’m with Harp and Logan. We’re…we’re alive. Rough shape, but alive.”

“And Rorke?” You hold your breath.

“Dead.” Logan ties off a quick tourniquet and your spine tightens in agony, hissing out as your nerves spike with electricity. The brown-eyed man spares you a sorry glance but you shake your head in dismissal. “He’s dead.” 

Out in the water, the enemy warships are firing off missiles inland, some smoking and others already sinking. Merrick gives you the news as Hesh brings a hand up to your chin, tilting your head his way. You go willingly, skin on fire from the scrape of his gloves. 

Logan moves back, having done what he can, before he collapses back into the sand, panting with an arm over his stomach. His older brother’s forehead bumps into yours, eyes stuck. 

“Copy that. The Federation is in full retreat—the rest of the payload is inbound to finish the…”

Whatever else Merrick relays is lost and Hesh’s lips splay over yours, his nose letting out a long breath and body sagging, dead-weight. Cheeks hot and mind running, you let instinct take over and reciprocate, quick fingers pulling at his vest straps.

“Since when?” He asks, breathless when he moves back an inch. 

“After you introduced me to your first girlfriend, Cassie Albrook,” you smile, eyes crinkling. “Seventh grade. The one with the black hair? God, I was so jealous.” 

Hesh chuckles deeply, body jerking as he kisses you again, pulling back and holding your cheek in his hand. His eyes are wide and open.

“You mean to tell me, I could have been kissin’ you all the way back since seventh grade?” Your face moves with pure love, flesh going soft—even the pain diminishes somewhat. 

Merrick’s voice still gruffly moves down the line, and the last bits of his sentence are heard. 

“...Sit tight, Recon’s comin’ for ya.” Everything was looking up. 

Missiles slam into the Federation ships out in the water, the sudden burst of liquid and fire making Hesh briefly cover you with his side to protect you from the shockwave. When you turn to look, nothing but sinking metal remains. 

“I’m sorry,” Hesh tells you, and you don’t have the energy to pull away from his neck as you let your head rest—the thumping of your brain and the calming shadow of his form giving way to believe you had a concussion. 

“Hm,” you hum, letting him continue. His voice echoed in his breast.

“I…I’ve been an ass these past few days, weeks, I shouldn’t have said what I did—wanted to take it back as soon as I turned away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh long, sarcastic even now. 

“You owe me dinner and a movie, then I’ll see if I can forgive you.” Hesh chuckles, nose pressing down into your scalp. He kisses you there as water falls from his chin.

“Sounds like a plan, Doll.” The man lets himself rest, curled around you and waiting for the recon team as the sand and the water move. “I love you too…just so you know. Long time.”

Your failing mind lets off a scoff. But a happy one.

When you wake again, not remembering when you’d fallen asleep, it is to the sound of screaming. 

“Logan!” You jolt up and have to place a hand on your head to stop the pounding. Hesh is struggling to move, fighting to get to his younger brother who you turn as quickly as you’re able to face. “Logan!”

Your face voids of blood. 

Rorke is dragging the other man away, pushing him to the ground as Logan tries to fight like a dog on his back, with only one arm working properly. Growling, you try to stand—body falling and sliding right back down as Rorke kicks Logan’s combat blade from his hand, walking over to you and Hesh. 

He stands and pants, limping from your shot to his foot and a hand across his abdomen in obvious pain.

“Look what you did,” Rorke motions behind him to the still-falling missiles being disposed of from space into the ocean; atop the wreckage of what Rorke had been a part of. Falling to your side, you leave behind a raging Hesh who attempts to move and get to Rorke while you go to Logan. The devil wheezes and points from you to the boys, forcing a grunt of approval. “You’re good.”

Hesh is shoved back by a ruthless boot into the rock, and you snarl, coming over to Logan and his very broken arm as he weakly writhes on the ground. You place your body over his and bare your teeth as if a beast. 

“Rorke!” You bark. “It’s over! It’s done. Everything you’ve built is dead and recon is on its way for us…you’re finished.”

“Nothin’s finished, no,” Hesh tries to lunge again as Rorke’s body stumbles closer to you but falls into ragged coughs and stays on his side in utter agony. 

“Stay away from them!” The man you’d just confessed to hisses, hand grasping futilely at the sand. Green eyes run back and forth from you to Logan, desperate and breaking by the second. “Rorke! You son of a bitch!”

“Nothin’s ever finished.” Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck, you’re being tossed off Logan and thrown to the side in a cloud of sand, body screaming at you as you yell out loudly. 

Rorke bends a knee to look Logan in the eyes, shaking his head.

“You’d of been a hell of a Ghost.” Yelling, you wrench at the combat knife in your vest, set your feet, and tackle Rorke off of the Walker boy with a feral curse on your breath. 

“Get the fuck off of—” Your leg twists with a defining crack as you’re grappled and thrown off, only able to slice a nice long cut down his jaw and at the beginning of the man’s throat. 

Screaming you hear briefly Hesh’s rageful bellow, his calling of your name in high keens of helplessness. Promises of revenge and justice. 

Breath breaking as tears line the back of your eyes, Rorke comes over you and pins your dominant hand to the ground—you look up and grimace, trying to make your body function. 

Move!

Rorke laughs, great shoulders shaking with glee. He’s fucking demented as he continues his sentence from before your fruitless attack. 

“...But that’s not gonna happen, is it?” The man smiles and you struggle as Logan and Hesh rapidly try to assist. 

“Harp!”

“There ain’t gonna be any Ghosts.” Rorke’s eyes shift to Hesh, and you follow with a sense of dread and horror. The man’s mind had been made up when he turned back around, disregarding Logan entirely in favor of you and your ‘unbreakable’ loyalty. 

The joy it would bring him to destroy you and set you loose after such. Set you loose on Hesh. 

He leans in close to you, so you can feel his breath and his conviction. 

“We’re gonna destroy ‘em together.” 

“Harp!” You’re shoved back, knife grasped and ripped from your hand as your broken leg is grabbed and pressure is applied. 

You scream again, arms carding across the dunes as Rorke begins dragging you backward like a child holding onto a stuffed toy. Blown green eyes meet yours, Hesh reaching out and screaming at the top of his lungs for you. 

But he can’t move.

“Harp!” 

And you can’t feel your fingers. 

“I love you,” you whisper, perhaps for the last time and he sees your lips move. Hesh screams and slams his hand into the ground, Logan stumbling to his knees but immediately dropping back with a small cry. 

And Rorke chuckles.

—

You don’t know where he took you, but you do know the jungle floor is cold and wet, and the mud under your fingernails makes you feel gross. 

What you do know is that the earthen walls of the pit you are in are pointless to try to climb—the top is slatted with a covering of long sticks with wide square openings. You know it’s going to rain by the smell in your bloodied nostrils. 

You know that your leg is broken, your bullet wound is festering through the tourniquet, and your concussion is making you sleepy. 

In your head, you count these ‘knowns’ and sprinkle them like seeds as you stare blankly at the sky far above. Everything aches; hurts. When you breathe, it comes in and out with a wheeze. 

You know that Hesh loves you, and perhaps that’s the only fact you care about. Wherever he is, you’re glad he can’t see you like this. 

Rain patters against your head, the storm clouds finally rolling through. Leaves can be heard shuffling on their branches. You breathe in and out, rising and settling your lungs slowly. 

You can’t break—not like Rorke. 

No matter what he did to you, you can’t betray the Ghosts. Logan. Hesh.

Elias’s words echo as you curl into a tiny ball, shivering and whimpering as your wounds move and pull. 

...I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.

You know this game. Torture. They’ll pump you full of hallucinogens, starve you, beat you within an inch of your life; and through that you cannot give in.

But it’s easier said than done.

In the middle of the night, the top of the pit is pushed away and there are the voices of multiple people that dance above the rain storm. They jump down and in the state you are, there’s nothing you can do to stop them from hooking their arms under yours and hauling you up, limp and motionless. 

The words are in Spanish, and you still can make out some over the commotion and the way your hearing dips in and out. 

“Where do we inject….”

“...neck, I believe…arm could work too…”

“...nasty…was it? I heard…mix of drugs…Who knows?”

Your head is harshly yanked back, and the sharp pinch of a needle digs into your neck, the action making your good leg kick out in panic but there’s little you can do. 

A flood of thick fluid enters your veins and like sap seeping out of a tree some drops exit the wound and mix with the rain weighing down your clothes. They’d taken your gear, only your undershirt and cargo pants still clothing you. 

When they’re done, they let you drop back to the floor, where you flop and smash your face into the mud with a weak drag of your cheek along the sludge. With calls from above, a rope is tossed down and they all ascend. The top is clattered back over moments later. 

Laying still and groaning, teeth clenched, already you feel ten times more strange than before. 

“Ah,” you grasp at your head, which was bursting to begin with, as it gains a looseness to it—the mud below you shimmered with puddles, the chill got colder, and your clothes felt grating against your skin. “Not good. N-not good.” 

You pull at your shirt collar, coughing as your eyes bulge; your heart breaks itself as it immediately can be felt hammering into your ribcage far more sensitive than you’d ever experienced. It felt like your chest was going to rip open. 

Panicked sounds emanate from the back of your throat, fingers digging into your scalp as the drugs carry their venom through your blood. 

Your wounds blazed.

You start screaming, babbling for nothing, and pulling at your flesh, but the overhead striking of lightning leaves the desperation mute to all but the trees.

—

Hesh stares at you from the corner of the pit, but his eyes are not green. You watch, silent, barely moving, from where you curl into a tiny heap of bloodied flesh. You’d torn at your skin for days; time looped together with more injections and no food. Water you got from the sky.

They had offered soup, but you knew better even as you dug harsh lines into your neck. There were just more drugs in the broth. 

But Hesh. Hesh.

He wasn’t right—didn’t stand like him, or breathe like him; there was something off about his smirk as he watched you gaze at him in an addled stupor.

“Feelin’ good over there, Kid?” Not Hesh. Not. Hesh.

You’re panting, your body sweating profusely in the humidity and so, so hungry.

Not Hesh takes a step forward and his image tilts like the turning of a page with Rorke taking his place, but as soon as it happens it flips back on itself to your Love.

“N-not right,” you hurriedly whisper.

Not Hesh puts a hand to his ear, kneeling down in front of you. “What was that, now?” A long chuckle. His voice is…is…deeper. Your eyebrows flinch up and down. “Who do you see, Sweetheart?”

“Hesh,” you whimper out. “Hesh, what are you talking about? What’s going on? I…I feel like I’m…I’m twisted inside out.”

“Hesh, huh?” The man looks to the side, smiling. “Well, that’s better than I expected. This’ll be fun.”

“W-what—” A fist connects with your face and you get catapulted into the wall. Before anything else, your stomach is kicked, making your call of alarm get forced out as a gasp as your clotted bullet wound reopens in a great tear. A large hand grips you hard by the chin, snapping it forward to stare into those wrong eyes but the familiar face of Hesh. 

What was he doing to you?

“H…Hesh,” you can’t even stutter out his name before you break down into coughs and gagging; tears rolling down your cheeks, and blood and mud everywhere.

“Yeah, that’s right. You just keep lookin’ at me.” You dry heave and push at his hands, fingernails digging into his skin to create crescent moons. “Keep lookin’ at Hesh.”

—

It’s three months of the same, and you can’t go on anymore.

You lay in a near comatose state on the ground, flesh completely covered in mud and open wounds—maggots eat at your dead skin, wriggling deeper. Not having the heart to pick them out, or even move the few non-broken fingers you have, you lay in blank agony. Pain so deep you can’t scream or make a single noise. It would make it worse; it is making it worse. 

Breathing is becoming a chore.

“Is today going to be the day?! God, I sure hope so.” Hesh looks down from over the edge, fiddling with another syringe of drugs. “Enough blood down there to make a fuckin’ painting out of. Shit…You lasted longer than I thought, Kid.” You don’t look at him. At his dark, wrong, eyes. 

“I’m nearly impressed.” There’s a low chuckle and the crackling of branches. 

You close your eyes and try to think of a single kiss and green eyes, but the rest of the image is tainted to you. Your mind can’t call it forward without the corruption of the puppet ahead of you, this shifting specter of mist and smoke.

Memories that used to bring you comfort call to fear and spine-curling hurt. 

This couldn’t be Hesh, you told yourself for the millionth time, but…who else could it be? Your body was too broken to try and work through the hallucinations, to think or rationalize.

There’s a thump of boots and a grunt. Someone coming closer as birds speak far above. Singing. It's the first you can recall another living creature being this close to the smell of infected decay.

 “Now, now, let’s see that neck of yours.” You’re seized and pushed onto your back, head lulling and eyes fluttering. Hesh’s image shifts and bends into another, one you should be able to name but can’t quite recall. It’s hard to focus. “Just one more, and we can fix this. Together. No more Ghosts, huh? We’ll make it right.”

Birds songs. Birds and flying shadows. Rapid wing beats like an eagle or the pound of paws on the ground. 

There is an un-godly snarl and a call of rage. 

“Rorke!” The dark-eyed Hesh snaps his head away, his needle stilling in his grip only inches from your flesh. He’s grappled and ripped away, thrown up and slammed down into a full-body jerk of pure strength not a second later with a cry of shock. “Get the fuck off of her!” 

Shadows roll and wrestle, feral yowls like that of beasts bounce off your impaired hearing, mud stuck in your ears. You think your vision cuts out for a moment because the next there’s a different man gripping your shoulders, slightly shaking you back awake.

Blue eyes like the ocean. Your brow barely twitches in confusion. 

Keegan? 

“C’mon, that’s it. Right here.” A light is taken and directed right into your eye in the fading light. “You’re doin’ great, Harp. Just keep lookin’ at me.” 

The light passes over your blood-coated eyes and barely diolates. Keegan’s lips under his balaclava thin to an alarming degree. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at you before he darts his vision over to Hesh, the actual Hesh, who’s locked limbs with the former Ghost; fists to guts and primal anger. 

In his haste to get to you, Hesh had damned himself—he’d left no opening for any of the others to get a clean shot at Rorke. But no one could blame him, even if it was reckless; incredibly stupid. 

The man had been on your trail nearly every day since you’d been taken. Barely sleeping, eating little. A man possessed. 

The Ghosts had been half convinced something had taken over his image and scooped out his personality.

“Merrick,” Keegan patches into the secure line, looking back down at you. “Positive ID on HVT, three klicks West. Hesh has engaged—we found Harp.” 

There’s an instantaneous response, worried breath. “Solid copy…how’s she doing?”

“We need MedEvac immediately. She won’t last another night.” There’s a curse on the other end, a loud and quick call to the rest of his squad. 

“Copy! I’ll call it in!” Keegan tries to stabilize you as Hesh and Rorke rip each other to shreds, and Hesh, who had the upper hand in the beginning, is quickly losing it.

“Awe, look who tracked ‘er down!” Rorke snatches at Hesh’s collar and lays two jabs to his ribs—there’s a definitive crack as the younger man shouts in pain. “Young love! So fucking pointless.” 

“I’m going to rip you into pieces,” Hesh bares his teeth, eyes wild and unrestrained. For a moment Rorke looks taken aback by the utter conviction in his green gaze. “And make you choke on your own damn teeth! You hear me?!” 

Ripping away with a tear of fabric, Hesh bends low and tackles the former Ghost to the ground, splaying him out on his back before his fist is snapped back and brought down; again and again and again. 

“Hesh!” Keegan shouts, pressing deeply into your wounds and trying to give you fluids with one hand. “This fucking kid.” The Sergeant gives up, shaking his head. 

Trust had to be given, and Keegan knew that at this moment he had to trust Hesh to hold his own. He needed to keep you conscious. 

“Easy, Harp.” You can feel the cracks in your dry throat as the water seeps past them, and you cough up droplets before the blue-eyed Sergeant tilts your head and helps you. “Easy, Sweetheart.” 

Keegan doesn’t even want to look at your body as the brutal sounds of a fist on bone continue, clothes scuffling and gargled breaths—the savagery and barbarous remnants of mental and physical torture too much even for him. 

“Christ,” he hisses. 

You gulp down water slowly and let it fill your stomach like a brick. 

Hesh reduces Rorke’s face to a mess of flesh and busted bone, sweating and not even stopping as his knuckles split under his gloves or his fingers dislocated from their sockets. His eyes burn, his face goes red—he looks insane. 

He looks like a spirit of utter revenge. 

Only when Logan and Merrick drag him off the spasming body does he stop, but not after he tries like hell to fight out of that hold as well. Whipping around, he attempts to land a punch on Merrick before Logan is forced to put him in a restraint hold. 

Hesh’s cheek meets the mud, face being sunk into it as his right arm is twisted so far behind his back it nearly breaks. The older brother growls, free arm and legs moving—back sliding. 

“David!” Merrick barks at him, face pulled in a sneer, enraged at the man’s lack of sense. “Shut this shit down. Look at her, dammit!” Logan gets bucked off, but the youngest Walker boy has enough sense to wrestle him back down and grab onto his chin; forcing those green eyes to lock on you and Keegan. 

The second he sees you, he entirely freezes.

Merrick sighs out harshly, jogging over to you and already checking in with the MedEvac that Kick’s flying in. There would be no resistance—all the other hostiles were dead. 

“Jesus Christ,” the Commander breathes, kneeling by you instantly and studying your body. 

Hesh’s reaction is slower, but the spread of vile tears burns the back of his eyes. Logan lets him go at seeing this, standing and holding out a hand, but the brunette stays on the ground a moment longer; utterly still. 

Hesh’s mouth opens and closes. 

All at once he’s rushing over and limping up at your side as Merrick grabs more medical supplies from his packs to help you. 

“Oh my God,” Hesh breathes, and Keegan sends him a glance. You’d drank all of the water. “Harp, hey, you’re going to be okay—it’s gonna be alright, you hear? I’m right here, Logan and I are gonna get you home. Back to California, okay? Riley’s waitin’ for you, Doll.”

You flinch at that voice, and Merrick looks sharply at the blue-eyed Sergeant. Their eyes lock, holding for a long moment. Logan’s brows tighten in confusion. 

The brunette seems not to notice it at all, hands finding your cheek before Merrick can give him a warning. Your eyes slowly shift to him before they peel back with fear.

Hesh’s vision goes glossy, clenching his jaw. “Shit, what did he do to you—”

“Hesh!” 

You yell and yerk back, shoving the man off of you with a fear-filled sob. 

“No!” Keegan and Merrick grapple to keep you down, not wanting to aggravate your wounds as Hesh falls to his ass, hands slapping behind him before he hisses and brings them back up. He blinks quickly in confusion and panic.

Logan rushes over and hides him from your view, beginning to understand what was going on. 

“No!” You call again, Keegan having to hold your head into his chest to hide you away. Merrick yells down his comms to hurry the Helo up, and that he doesn’t care about anything else. “No,” your voice gargles off as you sob into Keegan. “Please, no more.”

“Shh,” the Sergeant mutters, looking over his shoulder at a pale and shaking Hesh. “Nothin’s going to happen to you. Not anymore.” 

“Harp,” Hesh whispers, jaw slackened. “I…I don’t…”

“Hallucinogens,” Merrick says grimly, watching you shake and wail. Logan has to look away, his fists clenching. “Who knows what she’s seen. Reckon it wasn’t anything good.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear anything besides your cries. Whenever you gasp Hesh tenses as if he wants to run to you—comfort you the best way he knows how. 

Hallucinogens? He thinks and feels tears dribble down his cheeks as he blinks, rubbing at his jaw and shakily placing a hand over the back of his neck. Logan puts a heavy grip on his shoulder, weighing them down even more.

—

Rorke’s death should have been a time of celebration—of honoring the fallen. Elias Walker, Ajax, and countless others. The Federation was nothing more than broken factions now. Dust to the wind. 

But no one can celebrate when they’re trying to fix one of their own.

You were being kept in the secure medical ward under twenty-four-hour surveillance and around-the-clock care; only Keegan was allowed in, seeing as you were the closest to him outside of Logan and Hesh and had no adverse effects to his presence. 

Merrick had said he didn’t want to risk Logan going in, as it might worsen things. Hesh was taking it hard. 

He just got you back, how was this right? How was it fair that you’d had to go through that right when it was supposed to be over and done with? The man got sick over it, thinking about what Rorke had done to…break your mind like he had. 

Two months. 

Two months of nightmares plaguing him, of your eyes when you looked at him. If Hesh had just been stronger, then that bastard would never have dragged you away on that beach. He resulted in working out more, running laps around Fort Santa Monica with Riley at three in the morning—he grew bags under his eyes. He grew quiet. 

When all of his broken ribs and fingers healed, the artificial wounds, he was offered awards for taking down Rorke; even a summon by the President. 

He’d denied all of them. 

If a medal was going to get you better faster, he’d have taken them in an instant. But he wasn’t that stupid. Hesh was withering, and everyone saw it. He loved you more than anything—more than fame or recognition. The man lay awake at night fearing that you were too cold or uncomfortable in the far-off ward, he was paranoid about your safety. 

More often than not, the nurses found him and Riley fitfully sleeping outside of your door on the hard ground, arm used as a pillow. They didn’t have the heart to move him.

In the last two weeks before the third month of your isolation and evaluations, in his nighttime routine, Hesh finds your door open. 

He stares at it now with a blank expression, fatigue once burning his eyes all gone for a deep and pounding panic. With a hand gesture, Riley halts and sits, and, sensing his handler’s mood, lets his ears go straight up in attention. 

Hesh reaches for the gun in the back of his pants, peeling it out slowly and taking a nearly silent step forward. Ready, his ears strain for a sound…but there is none. 

His free hand reaches for the door, the short sleeves of his gray sleep-shirt bunching. A moment later, he lightly taps the barrier farther out before entering the room with the gun drawn.

He said he wouldn’t get distracted, but it would be a lie to say his eyes didn’t immediately go to you. 

You were there, asleep, curled up on the far recliner chair instead of the bed. Head lulled to the side and knees kept close to your chest. But it was the scars that broke Hesh.

They were large and long—on your face and arms; legs. All moving and stretching like a child’s drawing up your sleep shorts and shirt, disappearing only to reappear somewhere else. Healed over but still fresh.

Hesh drops the gun and turns his body slightly away, staring at the side wall before he takes an unsteady breath. He re-hides his weapon and turns to leave, not seeing anyone else.

Maybe Keegan had forgotten to close the door…he’d have to chew him out for that. Already a dull point of anger was making his jaw clench at the sly older man.

“Bastard,” Hesh mutters.

Before he can exit and close the door softly behind him, he hears a broken squeak of alarm. He halts as you stare heavily into his back—awoken by the sound of nearly silent feet. In a steady motion, the man’s hands are by his sides, open and visibly holding nothing. 

“I was just leaving,” Hesh whispers, not looking at you. His heart hammers. “I’m sorry, I thought someone else was in here—the door was open, okay?” 

Your hands twitch, body still and breath held tight.

“Hesh?” He flinches, eyes closed tight. 

Don’t look at her. Don’t turn around. Leave.

“Are you really…him?” You ask silently, eyes darting nervously around the room and quickly waking up fully. 

It’s a moment before he answers you. 

“Yeah,” he forces out, voice tiny and sad. “Yeah, it’s me, Doll. Just David Walker.” 

Your throat bobs with a thin swallow. Treatment was still ongoing, but it’s not every day you wake up to find the man who you had nightmares about standing in your room. 

Breathe, you have to remind yourself. It was the drugs. Not Hesh. Never Hesh. Rorke.

But you were still scared. 

“I…I need to see your eyes,” you say. 

Hesh turns carefully, staring hard at the floor. His heart lurches, hands going clammy. 

What if she has a setback? He asks himself. What if I mess this up…Shit, Hesh, you couldn’t have minded your own business?

Oh, but he never could when it came to you. 

“Then look at me, Sweetheart.” The man breathes slowly, darting his eyes up to your face. “They only belong to you.”

But your gaze can’t slip to his sockets, only able to glare fearfully into his neck. But this Hesh felt different, more like the one you grew up with—those memories still coming back but tainted; you need to see green, but it was hurting you to think that you might not.

“I’m scared,” you admit, shakily. The man’s thighs tense, but he stops himself before he can go and take you into his arms. That wouldn’t help. “I’m…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real. I swear to you, Harp, I’m real. I’m right here and I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. Even if it’s years, I will always be right here.” He pleads, hands still at his sides and going nowhere if you don’t tell him to. It’s like a floodgate opens, months of internal pain and heartbreak spilling out. You needed to know this, even if he never got to see you again. 

“I have loved you since I saw you get jealous over Cassie Albrook in seventh grade and tried to hide it because you thought she made me happy—she could never make me happy, Harp. That was you. That was always and will always be you. I…I can’t breathe when you’re not near me, I don’t know how to act right when you’re hurt. Seeing you hurting is…is…” Hesh’s voice breaks and he falls silent. 

“Please, if you need to look into my eyes, I’m beggin’ you, Sweetheart, please, do it. Even if it’s only one glance.” Your breath is stuck in your throat, tears welling and sliding down your cheeks. 

In your skull your brain pounds, bordering on hysteria and an urge to flee. There was so little that you trusted anymore. Keegan, yes—the nurses and doctors? You had no choice there. 

You knew that the Hesh you’d seen in the pit was Rorke, Keegan had explained it all to you after the drugs had been pumped from your system; you understood that part. But it didn’t make the sickening confusion any better.

Symptoms of severe PTSD, paranoia, anxiety—you’d seen the charts when the nurses thought you weren’t looking at them. 

You still wouldn’t let anyone with a needle anywhere close to you, had to be put under for it. 

But you’d been so lonely here. A simple kiss seared into your mind before the horror set in, a stain of a smile on your lips. A chest vibrating with a content purr. 

Hesh. You want your Hesh back. 

Taking a stuttering breath, your eyes dart upwards. You push through your misty gaze and lock on a color that can only be described as a grassy field of verdant growth. Great open plains of viridescent being—showing you a world bathed in tender belonging. 

Home. 

You sob and rush from the chair on legs that still hurt even now, meeting Hesh in the middle as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you. You’re covered and kept in a hold so tight it’s like he’ll never let you go, heart pounding and his face loose with shock.

But he says nothing beyond a loud shuttered exhale of relief, pressing you to his chest and burying his face into your scalp, breathing you in; taking you down like a sinner in church until all that remains is you. Your fingers digging into his shirt, your face in his neck, how you call his name as if calling a ghost back from the dead.

“Oh, my Girl.” Hesh chuckles through the tears in his eyes. “My Girl. I missed you so much, you won’t even believe it.” 

You push yourself into him tighter. 

Riley, at some point, had come to stand in the doorway, his dark beady eyes seeing only the colors in gray, brown, yellow, and blue, though that never truly mattered. Color was only half of the picture. 

And the rest of the image in front of him was seeped with the pigment of love. 

The dog’s tongue lulls from the side of his mouth, and in the air behind him, his tail moves back and forth into a soft arch.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[dumplingsfordays]

patching you up

blade x injured!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - blade patches you up after you got injured while fighting mara.

cw!: mentions of blood + injury, soft-ish!blade, ooc blade?, mention of blade's past life which idfk how it works lmao I should be paying attention to the storyline asjdnb, swearing, mutual pining

note - god damn. soft!blade is living in my head rent-free fr, can't get enough of him <33 I'm not usually an edgy-emo-boy fan but ig blade's just built different 💪💪

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

With each painful cough, more and more thin splatters of blood painted your mouth crimson.

It hurt. A lot. You didn't expect it to hurt nearly as bad as it did when you charged in to fight the Mara that was attacking some people that were making their way through Cloudford, but the spear that their captain had used to stab through your side was probably coated in some sort of poison, because with every sluggish step you took, you felt your body break little by little. Eventually, you collapsed onto the cold ground - your torso was numb and soon your arms and legs would be as well.

Well, at least you were going to die somewhere pretty. The sunset glimmered through the leaves of thin trees growing from large pots, which were scattered across the various bridges of the district. Starskiffs drifted lazily across the sky like regal ships on the high seas and the last thing you heard before you closed your eyes for a while was the sound of crickets and footsteps fading in.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Finally fucking awake."

A harsh voice came from your side as you opened your extremely tired eyes, which were met with dim but warm lighting and a dark wooden ceiling.

"Can't believe you got into this mess," the voice continued as you felt something tightening around your waist. "Didn't think that you'd be so stupid."

His face flashed in your hazy mind and you tried to sit up. "...Blade, I-"

"Don't move. You'll make it worse."

Hands. Ice-cold, gruff, but gentle hands pushed you back into your previous position by your shoulders, and you felt the tightening feeling again shortly after.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, then coughed again. Your throat was so dry - it felt like you haven't drank in decades, and with each cough you swore that your lungs were going to fly out of your mouth at the sheer force.

"Fixing you, obviously."

You raised your neck to try and catch a glimpse of your wounds but saw only the top of Blade's head, his raven hair tied back in a low ponytail. He was bent over your side, and just as you lowered your head back to the pillow a sharp bolt of pain shot through you, making you hiss and wince.

"That hurt!"

"It'll pass," he replied almost too casually. "Deal with it."

An uncomfortable pause ensued, during which you finally figured out that he was bandaging your torso up. You'd never expected anyone to find you back there, much less a Stellaron Hunter that you'd only interacted with five or six times, but thank the Aeons that at least someone did. But you did think it was strange that he was doing this for you, because from all your two-or-three-word conversations, you were sure that he wasn't the type to help an almost complete stranger. In fact, you'd think that he would be the one to cause these injuries in the first place.

While you were staring up at the ceiling in deep thought, Blade was lowkey kind-of admiring your skin. You weren't going to look down at him again anyway, it seems that you'd learned your lesson, but that just allowed him to eye your softness in more detail. This was his chance - he'd been admiring you from afar ever since you first met, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity to see what you looked like close-up pass.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blade's fingers reached out to lightly press onto skin that was near your wound, at which you hissed and leaned away from his touch.

"You sure that you're actually healing me?" you asked.

"Yes. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

He continued to press curiously but gently, making sure not to hurt you on purpose. Your skin was fascinating to him - it was soft, warm, while his was unforgivingly cold; yours had a fascinating shade of life about it and his didn't. This contrast was what made his eyes widen a little everytime he made physical contact with you, and he found small differences like these to amount to vast ones overall. Maybe this is what always made him think that you came from a different world entirely.

Blade then noticed that your hand was trembling by your side - the painkillers must be wearing off. He stood up from the chair beside the bed on which you were resting and reached for a couple pills and a glass of water on a nearby counter, moving them to the bedside table. His hands felt your back as he sat you up to administer the medicine.

You now saw where you were - from what you could tell, it was a small house or apartment somewhere. Dark wood covered the walls, ceiling, and floor, and tapestries and thriving plants littered the environment. You didn't know that he had a green thumb, but now that you did, you felt safer somehow - what if this cold, distant man was more human than you'd originally thought him to be?

His lithe, cold fingers brought you back to reality as they rested under your jaw, pulling it open gently, and your eyes focused on his admittedly quite handsome face again. Crimson eyes, the color of a blood moon, stared intensely at yours in avid concentration before travelling back to his other hand, which was now lifting a glass of sparkling golden liquid to your lips. There was a certain reverence of sorts glimmering in his expression, and this was accompanied by the fact that he was treating you like he would a glass flower. Your lips finally met the rim of the glass and when you finally tasted the elixir, you sighed.

It was cool and sweet, a refreshing sensation that battled the humidity of the room and the pain in your side. You drank the entire glass with ease and after Blade set it down on the bedside table, he wiped away some stray droplets of the shining liquid with a rough thumb.

That was it - Blade had become an entirely person just now. You could see it in his eyes and feel it as he breathed: this was not the same person who happened to be walking by a person on their deathbed and had enough pity in their secluded heart to heal them. He treated you like an old friend or a partner, perhaps, by taking you in.

"You'll experience drowsiness soon," he mentioned, "don't feel like you can't sleep. I won't leave you."

You laughed lazily in return, already feeling the effects of the painkillers. "So you can murder me in my sleep?"

"...I can leave-"

"No, no, I'm just kidding."

You sigh and relax into the pillows beneath you as Blade lowers you onto your back again. His gaze lingers on yours for maybe a second too long but he pulls away, preferring to sit down in a chair by the bedside and stare out at the scenery surrounding the house.

Once your eyes close and your breaths become quiet, he gives it a couple seconds to make sure you're asleep before softly starting to hum. It's an old tune from his past life, one which he used to smith to, and as midnight moonlight begins to stream in through the window, it veils your calm face in a hazy, shimmery glow that rivals even the smoothest of satins. He reaches a hand towards the apple of your cheek, cradling it in his palm as he sighs, a faint smile dancing on his lips.

"You're gonna kill me someday."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for repeatedly losing my temper at my kinda-friend? I (17F) have anger issues and I'm working on mitigating it, however, losing my temper always involves yelling and insulting people. Usually I think this is bad and apologize profusely when I lose control.

However, this kinda-friend (16F) who I'll call E, has absolutely no respect for other people's personal belongings, space, or time. She always grabs and plays with my things during class, or our mutual friend's items (16F), and as all three of us are artists, we carry around pretty expensive equipment. (Think Micron ink pens, Winsor & Newton paint, Derwent pencils, etc., just as reference. Thankfully no Copics lmao.)

The mutual friend will be referred to as J.

So, E has been told by both of us to stop taking our art supplies and playing with it, to the point where I'll yell sometimes, and she absolutely refuses to listen to us. She'll claim that she's forgotten what we've told her and put down the item just for her to pick it up again five seconds later. The problem is that she sometimes breaks these items or injures us - she'll play with my x-acto blade and cut me, or break J's graphite pencils, or push my watercolor palette off the desk. I've really tried to be patient about it, but it's proving to be difficult.

J is quite soft spoken, so I end up doing most of the reprimanding. E also brings up inappropriate topics that make J and I uncomfortable, as well as disturbing us when we're busy and then sulking when she doesn't get our immediate attention - once I told her three times to let me do my classwork before snapping, and E cried. She never does anything in school and hates all of our teachers, so she's pretty rude to them. All my work gets copied by her. She really annoys me, but I do feel terrible that I seem to lose control so often around E, since no one deserves to be yelled at.

However, this all came to a peak today when R (16M) and I won prizes for winning a mini-game and asking an interesting question during a seminar at school respectively; the gift was a black notebook that I didn't even like, which is an important tidbit to keep in mind. R left his gift still wrapped in his bag when he left the classroom for break time, so it was just J, E, and myself in there. Upon seeing what I had unwrapped, E went to R's bag and opened it - since all four of us are friends, we thought E was just being "jokingly" invasive as usual and were on alert, but didn't stop her.

J asked what she was doing and E said she was grabbing the gift out of R's bag. This caught my attention, so I asked why she was doing that. E told us that she wanted the book, and when J reminded her that the gift was, in fact, not hers, E said (and I wish I was kidding because this is replaying in my head in 4K HD right now like oh my god pls) "I know. It should be mine." Had she asked for my notebook, I would've given it up happily. I've got too many empty sketchbooks and notebooks at home.

I immediately stood up, but allowed J to handle the situation because I didn't trust myself not to react violently. J eventually lost her temper too and that's when I jumped in and started my yelling routine. I always feel bad whenever I do this, because it's not something I enjoy, but in this particular situation I just can't muster up the guilt? E is extremely irritating, but she tells us she has a horrible home life, so I try to be understanding. Except this was just completely intolerable. R even said that he'd predicted this would happen and to just give her the damn notebook - I vetoed that so we wouldn't enable E.

I really don't know if my reaction was overblown because I shouted a lot and said things like "you were given a brain - use it" and "you're a terrible person with no morals". It's ridiculous to say all that because it's (at the end of the day) high school drama, but I really can't understand why she acted that way. I don't know if I'm in the wrong in this situation. I wish she would listen when we tell her nicely not to do something, but even when I was blowing up at her, she was just smiling as if it was a joke. Should I apologize? I've apologized before when I lost my temper, but I have completely lost all will to be civil with her after this. The teachers are tired too - when she disappears from class or talks back, they just let her be. We can't really go to them because she'll feel betrayed and then get mad at us, which is a whole ordeal, because she's known to destroy and sabotage other people's items because of a grudge.

This is really lengthy. I apologize. I just feel terrible about the situation because I don't feel any guilt for my anger like I probably should. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[unusualwhatsits]

I love you, your takes are phenomenal, do you perchance have any favorite byler head cannons you would like to share?

Thank you lovely!! I love you too!! That's so sweet <3 tbh I usually think about them more in a college setting, or sometimes right out of college at whatever job they're doing. I have a lot of fun fantasizing about what their life could be like in the future, so these are made more with that setting in mind, but I'm sure some could be taken as present time situations!

I'm back-hugger!Mike's #1 fan, so a few of those to start: When it's cold out Mike will walk behind Will and wrap his arms around him to stick his hands in his pockets to get warm/keep Will's hands warm, forcing them to waddle along instead of actually getting out of the cold weather.

When they sit on the couch Will's sitting in front of Mike, back against his chest, and Mike's got his hands down the collar of his shirt, other hand up the bottom of his sweatshirt, legs wrapped around his waist, feet resting in Will's lap, just cuddling the absolute hell out of him

When they're at the grocery store they BOTH push the cart because Will's there to get shit done and Mike can't help but loom over him and cuddle up to "help" him push

I think they both develop a need for glasses eventually. Artist/writers who don't need glasses are performing witchcraft imo I think Mike probably needs glasses in general and just refuses to wear them most of the time. If he's super sleepy he might pop them on to read at night. Whereas Will probably is farsighted and chooses to wear them when painting to make sure it comes out correct, but otherwise also ignores them. Will's probably the "squinting at the ingredients label" kinda guy. You know the one. Mike's the, "I JUST had them!!" glasses lost on the top of his head kind of guy. You know that one too, I'm sure.

Mike's a heavy sleeper, Will's a light sleeper. Mike's a starfish, for sure. I think Mike's the big spoon most of the time, except when he's starfishing, then either Will is laying flat on his back, an arm and a leg from Mike draped over him, or he's just starfished right on top of Mike lmao If Mike's on his back obvs Will is cuddled up to his side. Will's the blanket hog. Mike's a furnace when he sleeps. It evens out.

Once they start saying "I love you" they say it no less than 100 times a day that's a fact and I take no criticism

Sometimes their date nights are just them getting chocolate wasted and having a movie marathon. So the usual hangout day, but now they get to make out lmao

I like the hc where Will learns how to braid hair from El, and he braids Mike's hair. Short or long, it's just something to fiddle with, and be creative with, and I think it'd make Mike absolutely melt to be doted on like that, plus it feels nice.

Will's art is everywhere, covering the walls, the counters/tables with framed pieces, paints + pens + sketchbooks absolutely litter the house. He makes random stuff to decorate for Halloween/Christmas etc. like wreaths and garland and helps El make kitschy trinkets figurines to decorate her apartment with! Mike's writing is also everywhere, papers pinned to bulletin boards, books stacked next to his desk, work briefcase overflowing. No less than three draws open in his filing cabinet at any one time, half of the folders pulled out and scattered on the floor/on top of the cabinet.

They definitely make a comic together. Whether that comic gets published or not is up in the air, but they definitely at least make it

Mike prefers to listen to his music with headphones on, even though Will sneaks up on him from behind and startles him 99% of the times he wears them. Will prefers to listen to his record player. They get noise complaints in their apartment and Mike sneakily slips outside without Will knowing to kindly tell them to kick rocks <3 His boy needs his rock and roll time.

Neither one of them knows how to cook, but they have the spirit! Usually results in burnt food and takeout from the local deli or fast food joint, but that's ok too.

I love the idea of Will having a pierced earlobe, and Mike getting some kind of cartilage piercing. That one might just be my bias to Mike's lil ear tips peaking out of his hair. Idk it's just precious to me and I think it would suit him. A little rebellious but nothing too crazy. His mom would still probably have a fit, though.

Every time they go to sit down somewhere Mike does the pulling a chair closer with his foot thing like Patrick does to Art in Challengers

Mike often wears a layer extra than he needs during the winter because Will insists he's "not even cold!!" as a just in case thing (almost always needed <3) "Can I have your jacket?" "Sure <33" "I'm not cold >:| you just look hot" 'Thank you ;)" "Not what I meant... but accurate." ":0 <33"

Anyway, that was way more than I intended and just super random thoughts but whatever lmao Thanks for letting me talk about the boys! :D

[bichenique]

TGCF SPOILERS

This is a major spoiler do not open it unless you're done w TGCF.

Jun Wu and Mei Niangqing's relationship somewhat mirrors Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's. A foil, maybe?

I saw a fanart recently of Hua Cheng painting Xie Lian but I had to readjust my eyes because at first glance I thought it was Mei Nianqing painting the Crown Prince of Wuyong.

🎀 Also yipee first long yap sesh post 🎀

pls take my yapping as a grain of salt; i also think other ppl posted abt this already and if that's true i didn't see it yet

Which he does at like, book 7 or 8, I don't remember, I was trying to study for government while reading the book. Mei Niangqing paints murals of Jun Wu and his four vassals around Mt Tonglu so Xie Lian and his gang can find out the truth.

Many readers did establish already that Xie Lian is Jun Wu's mirror/foil because like that was what leads Jun Wu to be obsessed with molding Xie Lian to be like him. They're too alike, it's almost eerie, but let's be honest, Jun Wu was rigging Xie Lian's fate so he will end up like him. Let's focus on HC and MNQ

That being said, here are some scenes I remember that kinda mirrors MNQ and HC:

Mei Nianqing makes art of Jun Wu, in reverence and remembrance of him. Hua Cheng does the same. However, their stances are different. MNQ is wistful about it, HC is more like manifesting his gege into reality and manifesting their marriage.

MNQ and HC both stayed with their princes. MNQ stayed even if the other three vassals left because they were friends and he didn't know JW murdered their other three buddies. However, he left JW the moment he found out abt that. HC stayed with XL and followed him everywhere, even willing to die for his prince, even if it meant dying multiple times.

They were both separated from their hubbies.

MNQ has known Jun Wu in all his eras, and HC has known XL in all his eras too, but maybe only from a distance.

Despite everything Jun Wu and Xie Lian did, MNQ and HC still wanted to stay by their side and remember their true selves. RIP Jun Wu and his mountain tho lmao. MNQ kinda confirmed it for me when he asks Jun Wu after his defeat (not a direct quote btw): Aren't you tired, Your Highness? I just miss how things were. HC tells XL that "what matters is you." The only difference was that MNQ made a choice and worked against Jun Wu while HC consistently made the effort to be there for XL.

I think my Ted Talk is done.

I will say tho, TGCF has this theme of breaking the cycle of abuse and recovering from trauma — Xie Lian choosing to go against Jun Wu, MNQ holding Jun Wu accountable for his crimes, Hua Cheng becoming someone strong so he will never feel unsafe just as he did in his childhood, Lang Qianqiu swearing that he will never be like Xie Lian and then having to revive Qi Rong so Guzi will never have to live the pain of losing one's dad, Mu Qing finding the courage to reunite with old friends, Qi Rong learning to be the person he wanted to be there for him— to name a few, I will probably have separate posts for this.

I guess in Heavenly Official's Blessing, they did shatter taboos.

[somethinabouttwistedwonderland]

Hello! I saw that matchups were open and thought I'd send in a request for Twisted Wonderland.

Appearance-wise I am a 165 cm tall, average build, Bangladeshi woman (She/her but also cool with they/them). I have wavy black hair that just reaches below my shoulders and I usually dress in South Asian attire, usually salwar-kameez plus a hijab. I also wear glasses. I don't really feel comfortable going out without them 😅

My MBTI and enneagram: INTJ 5w4

Star sign: Sagittarius sun, Virgo moon and rising (I act more like a Virgo, allegedly)

Sexuality: demiromantic asexual (demisexual?)

Personality traits: Calm, collected, polite, quiet, shy (but that can easily be mistaken for being aloof or done with everyone's shit (they aren't entirely wrong about the latter) (someone told me I radiate black cat energy), not very facially expressive (I'm the most emotional emotionless person I know. I do feel things more deeply than people give me credit for), a good listener, hardworking (I often bite off more than I can chew and end up burnt out), intelligent (especially with numbers. RIP impostor syndrome + gifted kid burnout syndrome. As much as I love my major, electrical engineering is kicking my ass). I am also the oldest of three sisters, so I'm good at handling kids (I'm also expected to be the perfect daughter, so... yea). Someone also told me I'm wise, but all that wisdom came from all the books I read + watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lmao. The same person also said my presence was therapeutic (paraphrasing, of course. Also, this is alleged)

Hobbies: Making art, making jewelry, reading, writing, animating (I'm relatively new to animation. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, but I'm still having fun), basically anything creative. I especially like to draw and paint things that radiate a sense of comfort, nostalgia, and serenity. Someone also told me that my artworks also hold a sort of innocence in the composition of the shapes, colours, and overall vibe of what I draw/paint. I also make jewelry from time to time

Likes: Classical music, lofi hip-hop, indie rpgs (Yume Nikki and Off have me in a chokehold, though not as tight as Obey Me, Court of Darkness, and Twisted Wonderland), tea, creative outlets. I also like to learn psychology

Dislikes: Cruelty, anyone who would dare to threaten my family or friends, loud noises, red meat (The texture is too much for me to handle), bright lights. I also dislike strong smelling things and being in crowded, noisy and bright environments for prolonged periods of time

What qualities do you look for in a partner? It may not look like it on the surface, but I'm a huge softie, I'd like anyone who I can feel safe talking to. They don't need to be perfect, I just need them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I also would not tolerate it if my partner belittles me or if they're just mean or rude for no apparent reason.

My love languages include making art for them and spending quality time

How do you want to receive affection? As I stated before, I would like them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I would also like physical touch and words of affirmation, but I can't guarantee I'll know how to react to that at first 🥲. It's gonna take some time for me to get used to it

I hope this is enough information. Thanks in advance if you choose to write this

I match you with...

KALIM AL ASIM

When you spoke about being an older sibling, it immediately reminded me of Kalim, and eventually I thought he might work!

Kalim, in all honesty, needs to work on how he handles himself around more reserved people. However, I think that the way you described your ideal partner lead me to think that Kalim was the best option.

Kalim is kind, generous, and is always looking out for the people he loves (even if he can be a tad dense at times.)

Kalim might be rather... erm... how can I say this in a polite way. stupid? Stupid in an endearing way. He'd always find time to make you happy and attend to your needs, however. He often says that teamwork is a valuable thing, and that's even truer in a relationship.

Despite often being unaware of the people around him, I think that after Jamil, Kalim is much more patient when it comes to listening to others, and is better at pulling his own weight. So, Kalim makes an effort to better make you comfortable since he knows your introverted nature can contrast with his own more extroverted one.

Kalim would always make time for you, ask your preferences for things, and generally try to make you as happy as possible. Kalim loves to have fun, and he has the most fun when he's with the people he loves, and that's you!

Receiving personally made gifts from you would make him incredibly happy, and to him they would be worth more than all of the treasures his family has.

Oftentimes, Kalim can treat you like a younger sibling moreso than a romantic partner, however, it's because he loves you and doesn't entirely get romance.

Speaking of younger siblings, he can relate to you by being an older sibling himself, and he's happy to introduce you to his many, MANY, younger brothers and sisters.

Now onto the part that made me unsure about Kalim for you. Kalim is VERY extroverted. He throws large parties and banquets quite often, and leaves Jamil to bear the weight of a lot of it. I assume that the stimuli from these events would be.. difficult to deal with for you, and Kalim would very much want you to go, however if you tell him, he'll understand how you feel (even if he's sad about it.) However, if you think of Kalim like the extrovert who adopted an introvert (you) it's much more endearing.

Kalim does anything he can to see you happy, feeling at peace when he sees you able to laugh and smile.

Thank you for requesting a matchup! Sorry if it isn't to your liking!!

Other character(s) I considered: Silver, Lilia.

[majorpatheticcas]

Welcome to my blog, folks!

⚠️This blog is for 18+ only, so if you are underage, please leave this blog. It isn't for your eyes, little ones. (MINORS DNI. NO EXCEPTIONS!)⚠️

Sorry Kids. Please respect what says above. I most certainly do not feel comfortable with minors roaming around here. So, if you follow me as a minor, you will be blocked. (If I find out, that is.)

No, I will not be posting anything explicit, but there are posts that will be quite suggestive, and there will probably be adult rambling in here.

Hello, I'm Cas. A normal student that had successfully tripped and fell for a skeleton. Or in short, I'm down for a skeleton. I am 20-something, but I won't be specifying my age anywhere in social media.

↓↓↓

A bit of info about me:

I'm still in college, will not be telling my age anywhere in here, only once I'm comfortable. I am a Pansexual and a Demisexual. I live inside a little house that consists of three more people. (which means I barely have privacy to simp and sketch around our house.)

I do not feel comfortable with Frans, Sanscest, Incest, and Selfcest. I am not saying I hate people that likes it, it just makes me feel uncomfy and uneasy. But I respect people who do in fact like it. English isn't my first language. I am currently living in Philippines. (please note that I'm very sensitive and might block you if I feel uneasy.)

But do reach out if you don't know why you got blocked!

I do not have a drawing station, well, not yet. Can't really spend too much money at the moment, meaning, I draw with my hand AND on my phone.

(I draw specifically with my thumb, it makes it easy for me to line art or sketch honestly. Well, in my opinion.)

What do we call you?

I go by the name Cas. 'Kas' is my sona's term, so, to avoid confusion and all, just call me Cas and my sona Kas. if you need my sona's reference, click here!

What pronounces do you use?

She/Her/They/Them. Please do not use male nor masculine pronounces such as He/Him/etc. when it comes to my pronouces.

Do you do art requests?

Maybe? Don't expect much, though. It'll probably just some doodle.

Do you do commissions?

Sadly, no. I've considered opening slots for commissions, but then I realised my schedule is always full. But someday I will, but not for now. And also because my thumb can't handle that much pressure, I can't break my only talented thumb.

Can we massage you?

Yes! You definitely can. Minors, please do not interact with me. Adults? Sure, I don't mind. But half of my time, I'm in school, so please don't expect me to reply to you quickly.

Will you answer our asks?

My inbox is open! Flood it whenever you feel like it luvlies!!!

Do you have any other social accounts?

Yes and No. Yes, I do, but their for my personal stuff and interest. No, I don't use them for posting/rambling about my interest in Sans lmao. But I probably will make a Twitter acc (still 18+) once I have enough time. (I have a lot of nsfw inside my ibis paint, been craving to post it but there are children here.)

Also a COD account here, (may be possible that I'll start a TikTok acc?) If your somewhat interested, feel free to just go here!

⚠️Little rules here⚠️:

Please be respectful when it comes to asking/commenting in here, I can easily get offended or upset about something.

Be respectful with everyone in my blog. Insulting others is not something I tolerate.

I feel so stupid for not having personal tags.

Think that's all you guys need from me. Well, not sure if I'll update this or something but I'm sure I will one day and someday. Soo.. that's all! Thank you for your patience.

[eldrichfuck666]

Get to know a simmer - summer 2023 edition (for me!) I was tagged by the amazing @lilypixels (thank you so muuuuch, you truly don't know how much I love to ramble on here and I also was so curious to know more about you! （*＾-＾*) and although I did it back in spring and you can find the old post here, I LOVE DOING SUCH UPDATES SKKSS so I'd decided I want to do it again~ Especially considering, I have a bit more mutuals and followers than then, so.. get to know me! And my love for rambling, too!

Show your wallpaper and last song you listened to (as you can see, I have a new theme! Yay! But Writer Lite still stayed here as well as Linga :') and I'm slowly going into my Hozier obssesion again, it's just mixed with Will Wood and Tally Hall!) AND YEAH I DID IT THE LAST LMAO just right now and I was just.. God why am I so slow and write so slow I-

Currently reading: I'm re-reading To Be Devoured by Sara Tantlinger once again and it's thanks to that one nonnie that made me want to go back to it and analyse every single sentence..) and I started reading Rapture by Saint Harlowe which was recommended to me by @rottengurlz - thank you SO MUCH for such amazing book rec, by far I can say that I'm getting so much Hannibal vibes for some reason? JACKSON IS SO.. OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOOD I don't know how to react and i'm fucking screaming IS IT A BOOK OF MY DREAM? The writing style, the religious references, the murderousness and both gentleness. It is... I didn't got very far, but this is very... this is a religious experience, literally! And I'm forever thankful to you for this rec!! 💕

Last movie: I might be very wrong because my memory sucks, but I feel like it was The Witch (2015)! But I'm not sure since I also watched Annihilation (2018) the same week and I don't remember which was the last I had watched 😭

Last show: Chapelwaite (2021) - I only started and I'm honesty terrified to watch it further but I think It might be worth it?

Craving: mmm, I don't really know? Maybe caramelized shrimps or WAIT Maultaschen? THEY HAVE INTERESTING STORY THOUGH!!! And they're very tasty and you probably know what's I'm going to go cook right now...

Last thing you ate: Baked Brussels sprouts with maple syrup! As you can see, I have a sweet tooth and I'd sold my soul for anything sweet, but especially for sweet vegetables!

What are you wearing right now: It's very cold (I'M NOT JOKING IT'S LITERALLY 12 DEGREES CELSIUS OUTSIDE AND THERE WERE A !!!!!!LONG THUNDERSTORM!!!!!!! AND I'M SOOOO HAPPY ABOUT IT!!!!!!!) so I'm wearing very old very fur socks that were knitted by my papa (yes, they're a gift for Christmas 2019 and I adore them and would protect them at any cost), orange woolen sweater, woolen home shorts and on top of that... I'm hiding in a very big yellowish autumny blanket with milky white stripes. I'm freezing and I still have my window open wide despite having an obvious fucking fever.

How tall are you: I figured out I'm actually 175 cm tall! It's pretty tall, right?

Piercings: None! I don't even have my ears pierced and I don't want to! There's clip-ons for that and I don't want to feel pain event for a slightest second. But piercings are really cool! I wish I didn't have this wild fear of pain or there were like... septum clip-ons if it makes sense? But yeah, still none and never will be!

Tattoos: None and I'm pretty sure there will never be any!

Glasses/contacts: I still have perfect vision, however! I STARTED KINDA COLLECTING VINTAGE GLASSES WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL SILVER CHAINS! I have three of them now help It's becoming another obsession... They just look cool and not even only on me, but just in general - even in the cabinet! And they have such beautiful and detailed cases ohhhh...

Favourite colour: Ahhh... I'm not sure but maybe... peachy pink? And that gold orange you can see on the painting Café Terrace at Night by the one and only Vincent Van Gogh. BUT PARIS GREEN IS STILL MY OBSESSION FOREVER I LOVE THIS COLOUR!!!!!!! And also, I think It's maroon and wine reds? They look so vampire I just... And so rich if it makes sense? AND GORE AND BLOOD- But aesthetic blood though!

Current obsession: Maid Of Sker & Bloodborne lore and maybe.. cosmic horror in general? Something definitely changed in me after watching Annihilation... But I also love Lovecraftian horror, so It does make a lot of sense!

Any pets: still no pet :,&lt; And I haven't seen my parents dog for months now... I miss her so much and I know they live only couple hours away but I'm deathly scared of publicly busy places especially electric trains and trains in general. I do not have a car and don't plan to and it will be useless anyways, but I'm not ready to deal with very... unstable train schedule and everything yet. I'm just scared but I hope i'd visit them at least for Christmas.

Favourite fictional character: Umm... I don't know now, It might be still Will Graham. I love him.

Last place you traveled: does going to Augsburg which is like.. 1 hour or so from me to see its cathedral once again counts? I just love this place so much, it feels so powerful and so old (which it is, and the architecture is insane. you need to go here to understand and feel it, but It's something so beautiful and it's kinda is my comfort place so...). And yeah, because the trip wasn't as long, I had my earbuds on and was drinking tea on a train and everything went really well! It was two weeks ago and It was like one of the most beautiful 6 hours of my year so far. And, there were a slight rain when I was shopping and walking around, so it's was really amazing. 10000/10 would recommend. ALSO. I bought some handmade brooches here! Its just a comfort town for me if it makes sense? There's so much to see but just calmly walking around feel the best. AND OMG I LOVE BEING HERE WHEN IT'S RAINING OR WHEN IT'S JUST CLOUDY AHHH

I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW I'M SCARED OF TAGGING but if you read it and if you just want to do this consider yourself tagged and tag me if you want to!! I love you so much to whoever is reading this and I hope you're having a great night or day!! ❤️

[helluvatired]

my predictions for hazbin season finale

(keep in mind that this is all just speculation and analysis, so i can be totally wrong in the end lol)

starting with the scenes in the order of the trailer, this is when chaggie have already reconciled, so it's probably the end of ep 7 or the first part of ep 8

and all the windows and doors are nailed down, so they are probably preparing for extermination

i really think this scene will be the end of a song, because it looks a lot like

in this scene we have the characters ready to fight, and everyone seems to have a piece of the exorcists' weapon. alastor must have finally said that it is possible to kill an exorcist

these people in the background could be people who heard charlie's announcement or just the cannibals from cannibal town (i talk more about this below)

and most likely it's cherri on the left too!!

now angel has a new outfit, but it's all ripped (he looks like he's wearing a cropped lmao)

and he's wearing the same hat as in the prequel! so i think he will have more development too (or at least more backstory)

now going back to the ripped clothes, i can think of three options:

he had his clothes ripped in battle

valentino

(what i most want to happen please please) angel will have a moment similar to fizz

in the next scene charlie is with alastor's mic, probably to make an announcement in the cannibal town (this scene in the future shows that it is the same scenario and alastor is singing with charlie (and rosie!!)) so this would be after alastor reveals that he knows exorcists can be killed

in this scene, many were thinking (including me) that this scene would take place at a time when angel had a relapse or when she discovered the complete truth about valentino, but seeing it now i think that would be unlikely because we only have 2 more episodes and we need to talk about how carmilla killed an exorcist; vaggie is an exorcist; tell this to the rest of the cast; the extermination

i watched this at minimum speed and there is a frame where she is smiling before crying, so my guess is that this was right after they came back from heaven

charlie is happy and proud of them but remembers everything that happened in heaven and breaks down in tears, without any hope

the next scene is vox, i think he is safe as he watches the hotel on the day of the extermination

this scene can be either a battle scene or a training scene

by the way, i want so much this verse to be a foreshadowing. may vaggie have her revenge

the next scene is this, chaggie painting a wall

this could be either the present where they have already reconciled or the past (i really would prefer this because i want more flashbacks) where they are cleaning up the hotel for the first time

but anyway, this scene is definitely them cleaning up the hotel, we just don't know if it's the first or second time

and if it is the second time, this opens up questions, because in the series it was alastor who repaired the hotel

and speaking of the devil, here he is. he is defending the hotel once again probably on the day of the extermination

and now we have adam ready to punch someone!

i don't think lute or adam are going to die, actually i can't even say if it's because i genuinely don't think so or because i just don't want them to die lol

they were cool antagonists, and i feel like they still have potential, maybe they would fall or come back even stronger in the second season

so about adam, i honestly don't know if we're going to have an epic battle with adam with the other exorcists. like, i hope we do! but adam seems to be too cowardly to fight a fight that he knows he could risk dying, that's why he didn't want to go down to hell when one of the exorcists was killed for the first time

but i hope we at least have a fight with some unnamed exorcists!!

ok, so i think that covers everything, i think i'm done

...

oh...

OH.

so viv dropped this bomb on Q&A (it's on her channel!) and now i'm going to make my speculations about who might not die (considering it will be a permanent death)

charlie - the protagonist

vaggie - the protagonist's girlfriend, they just had a fight and made up, i don't think what this death will contribute to the plot

angel and husk - it's been confirmed that they are slow burn, so yeah, they can't be a couple if one is dead

niffty and sir pentious - they are the funny characters, they are good to break the ice when some scenes are too heavy. once again i don't think what this death will contribute to the plot

alastor - he is one of the biggest antagonists, he still has so much potential and mystery to be solved

cherri - she still has so much to work on herself, it wouldn't make sense to kill her without any development

lucifer - while i think he might die in later seasons, i don't think it makes sense for him to die now, he's barely reconnected with his daughter again, and is it time for him to die?there are still things to be explored, like his circus and his wife for example

the Vs - it doesn't make sense for them to die now if they were barely introduced, there are still more things that can be explored

carmilla - although i can see it happening, i really hope not, it seems too soon to me. again, she still has a lot of things that can be explored, like her backstory or how she killed the exorcist

now it's time for my speculation about who will die: one of charlie's pets

looking at the cards, we have one of razzle and dazzle as giants, most likely defending the hotel, perhaps one or both of them will be seriously injured

but my bet is on keekee

keekee is the hotel key, and some of the cards shows what will happen to the hotel, it will be destroyed

(unless this destruction is when the guys who were after mimzy attacked)

and apparently the hotel is going to have a big renovation too??

by the way while i was looking for the cards i saw that charlie's pitchfork hadn't been shown yet, so maybe it can make an appearance in the season finale??

[harpidiem]

Hi! I really like your art and blog, and I noticed that you apparently have been running commission on-and-off for at least a little while, and I was wondering if you had any tips on running art commissions? Any good guidelines, how to get more visibility, etc.

I know it's not really a reliable thing, but I'm in a bad situation health-wise and could really use the money, so any advice you might be willing to share about how to do it better would be much appreciated.

Sure thing!

Well for one you have to figure that most people don't have money to spend on commissions; I certainly don't and commissions are more of a luxury thing to buy considering they're relatively expensive and take a long time, so don't be too discouraged if you don't see much business. I get less commissions around the holidays considering people are buying more important things around that time. I have consistent severe health problems too, and that's the main reason I struggle for money lmao, so I understand.

I've been doing commissions I think for two-three years now? and Im still not sure how is the best way to go about it LMAO my bad. I'd just say

-When you post an artwork, just simply put 'commissions open' at the bottom of the caption, so people are aware you do commissions

-I keep a commission post regularly circulated on my blog and personal side blog. not reblogged day or something so I don't annoy my mutuals (or worse, make them feel bad for not being able to support; I've had to unfollow someone because I felt bad not being able to help after they rbed their commissions page 24/7 and I felt bad fjjsjf selfish I know, but. y'know.)

-I mention it in my bio for instagram, discord, twitter, anything I use.

-When you finish a commission, ask if they're ok with you posting it.

-Start at the lowest possible price, and as interest grows, and your skill grows, raise the price just a bit every so often (I used to charge $20 for commissions, but since my process is now taking me 3-6 hours or more to complete a commission, I raised it to at *least* $40-$90

-Always be friendly and considerate (Im sure you are but. genuinely it goes a long long way)

-Give regular updates (I'm bad about this one because I start multiple projects and work on like. 7 things at a time. God bless people who are so so patient with me). Ask if they're happy with the process every step of the way, and make changes where needed (within reason).

-Always keep them in the loop of you have a major life thing going on that might slow down progress, or admit when there's been a goof on your end. I personally appreciate it when someone keeps me updated, so I try to update others as well >_<

-Just be honest, friendly, and people will know you're reliable. Keep it chill and not desperate, and you'll see business

-I recommend a page on Trello to keep your info organized! I use that for commission rules/guidelines

-Only advertise work you enjoy making. You do not want to get stuck painting if you hate painting! Nothing is worse than being on a time crunch and not even enjoying the process you have to finish

That's about all I have honestly, I just post commission work constantly as my weekly posting and it's been 1. good for growing my skill in the past year because I have to draw 2. people know me for character commissions at a certain point because I post them a lot. I hope any of this was helpful!!

[bonefall]

!! Please tell us about BB cats and songs you associate with them!!

Ok! Including YouTube links too, just so.

Darkstar: Little Dark Age - MGMT

I like how the song feels... hazy and confusing. It feels like a lull in a person's life from which they emerge better, stronger. Especially the bridge,

"I grieve in stereo, the stereo sounds strange I know that if you hide, it doesn't go away If you get out of bed and find me standing All alone, open-eyed Burn the page, my little dark age"

It makes me think a lot of what Darkstar was faced with. A bleak future from a pointless tragedy, the knowledge that SOMETHING has to change now else it will never get better, how the knowledge of StarClan's pending punishment sort of isolates her from the feelings of her Clanmates.

She has allies, like Volepelt, who she can't understand. She has supporters who still don't 'get it' like Spiketail who she can't empathize with. Both all alone AND open-eyed, if that makes sense

Cloudtail, Ferncloud, Ashfur: To The Blade - Everything Everything

This song means EVERYTHING to me when it comes to them, dude.

That gentle opening teleports me to the exact moment in BB!Cruel Season where Ferncloud is told that Ashfur tried to kill the Three, the way her mind is certainly racing, scrambling to comb through every interaction she's had with him, trying to piece it together so it makes sense, and then that HARD DROP

It sends me back to TNP, the death of Brindleface, little baby Ashkit, how she had to do the relay race with Elderberry, raising him and seeing him grow up into a loyal warrior

And Cloudtail too, thinking about Ashpaw's adolescence, wondering where it came from, if he failed him, if he didn't properly raise his best friend's little brother properly.

The growing possessiveness in Ashfur and the commitment to the Code that eventually makes him the impostor

To The Blade was written by EE to be a song about a person whose semi-distant relative (cousin, uncle, estranged brother) joined some kind of radical group, terrorists, alt-righters, incels, etc, and finds out about it through some kind of violent attack. A bombing or a murder, y'know.

It's about how you can never really get closure, and how attempting to understand it will only make it all more painful. It's about the vague feeling that if someone so close to you DID such horrible things, then, what stopped you? What was different about you and them? Could you have saved them?

"There's a thing that you always said and it is no words"

It's their song to me. It's the song about this little unit of cats.

Lizardstripe, Bluestar, Oakheart: We Both Reached For The Gun - Chicago

There's a full amv in my head to this one for Bluestar's trial scene. Billy Flinn (Lawyer) is Lizard, Roxy (Defendant) is Blue, the reporter woman is Oakheart in a fake mustache. The narrator in the opening is Oakheart WITHOUT the fake 'stache. The other reporters alternate between legitimately curious StarClan Jury and Thistle Law supporters.

The first bridge ("Oh yes oh yes oh yes we both--") is Bluestar awkwardly doing a complicated little dance (implied that Lizard taught it to her) that the jury fumbles repeating the first time, but by the end of the song they PERFECTLY repeat the dance.

The final "Both Reached For theeeee guuuun" is sung by Thunderstar, a massive godlike-figure who was just hanging out observing in the background for most of the song. He is a patron of Justice and Judgement, so him repeating this line is symbolizing that they successfully convinced the majority of the jury.

All that's left is for Lizard to paint the Thistle Law supporters in a bad light in another song lmao

Runningnose: Snuff Out The Light - Emperor's New Groove

Another one I've got a whole AMV in my head about. I can imagine the whole story of Brokenstar's Cataclysm to this song, and honestly I listen to it on basically every bus ride because of that lmao

The song escalating is his schemes succeeding. First, convincing Brokenpaw to leverage Raggedstar to install him as Cleric ("Studied well, I learned the trade"), helping Brokentail hide his murder ("Every wrinkle soon be gone"), coming up with new and ghastly ways to win fights ("I've really stopped at nothing"), and the musical interlude just before the climax is him poisoning Marigoldkit and chuckling triumphantly as they have a good excuse to exile Yellowfang for getting in their way.

The final part is the WindClan Massacre as they stream into camp. In particular "CROCODILES AND CARRION BEASTS" is Blackfoot about to bite Deadfoot and breaking his fang on the gauntlet, and "JOIN US IN THE COMING FEAST" is Tangleburr blocking the exit with a mauled Stoneclaw under her claws.

Hollyleaf: Fishies - The Cat Empire

Something about the mythological references, the way it seems like the singer is trapped somehow, the way it feels excited and desperate. I don't have citations for this one but something here clicks for me.

AND LASTLY here's some I have no thoughts on, I just associate them

Featherwhisker: Clumsy - Fergie

Tawnypelt @ Tigerstar: Telephone - Lady Gaga

Blackstar: Losing My Religion - Rem. Of course. Come on. This is HIS song.

Blackstar again because I think about this man too much: 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover - Paul Simon. I think it is my sacred duty to reinterpret songs about breakups as being about Blackstar being forced to live without Russetfur

Thunder Storm: Mama - MCR

Squilf and Bramblestar: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars

Hawkfrost and Ivypool: Say My Name - Beetlejuice

Spottedleaf and Tigerclaw at the end of Spottedleaf's Plague: Memento Mori - Will Wood

Mistyfoot at the end of TNP towards literally everything: No Children - Mountain Goats. Ok like I love this song and how people use it but what if it was about the whole Clan and not just a breakup... Misty smashing Leopard's head against a rock... mourning Hawkfrost even though he did all that to her... thinking about all the goddamn work she has to do... man

[obsoleteozymandias]

Hello! I saw that matchups were open and thought I'd send in a request for Twisted Wonderland.

Appearance-wise I am a 165 cm tall, average build, Bangladeshi woman (She/her and they/them pronouns please). I have wavy black hair that just reaches below my shoulders and I usually dress in South Asian attire, usually salwar-kameez plus a hijab. I also wear glasses. I don't really feel comfortable going out without them 😅

My MBTI and enneagram: INTJ 5w4

Star sign: Sagittarius sun, Virgo moon and rising (I act more like a Virgo, allegedly)

Sexuality: demiromantic asexual (demisexual?)

Personality traits: Calm, collected, polite, quiet, shy (but that can easily be mistaken for being aloof or done with everyone's shit (they aren't entirely wrong about the latter) (someone told me I radiate black cat energy), not very facially expressive (I'm the most emotional emotionless person I know. I do feel things more deeply than people give me credit for), a good listener, hardworking (I often bite off more than I can chew and end up burnt out), intelligent (especially with numbers. RIP impostor syndrome + gifted kid burnout syndrome. As much as I love my major, electrical engineering is kicking my ass). I am also the oldest of three sisters, so I'm good at handling kids (I'm also expected to be the perfect daughter, so... yea). Someone also told me I'm wise, but all that wisdom came from all the books I read + watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lmao. The same person also said my presence was therapeutic (paraphrasing, of course. Also, this is alleged)

Hobbies: Making art, reading, writing, animating (I'm relatively new to animation. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, but I'm still having fun), basically anything creative. I especially like to draw and paint things that radiate a sense of comfort, nostalgia, and serenity. Someone also told me that my artworks also hold a sort of innocence in the composition of the shapes, colours, and overall vibe of what I draw/paint. I also make jewelry from time to time

Likes: Classical music, lofi hip-hop, indie rpgs (Yume Nikki and Off have me in a chokehold, though not as tight as Obey Me, Court of Darkness, and Twisted Wonderland), tea, creative outlets. I also like to learn psychology

Dislikes: Cruelty, anyone who would dare to threaten my family or friends, loud noises, red meat (The texture is too much for me to handle), bright lights. I also dislike strong smelling things and being in crowded, noisy and bright environments for prolonged periods of time

What qualities do you look for in a partner? It may not look like it on the surface, but I'm a huge softie, I'd like anyone who I can feel safe talking to. They don't need to be perfect, I just need them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I also would not tolerate it if my partner belittles me or if they're just mean or rude for no apparent reason.

My love languages include making art for them and spending quality time

How do you want to receive affection? As I stated before, I would like them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I would also like physical touch and words of affirmation, but I can't guarantee I'll know how to react to that at first 🥲. It's gonna take some time for me to get used to it

OFF FANS RISE UP!!!!!!! BRING THE FANDOM BACK!!!

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Lilia Vanrouge 

Lilia is fascinated by you. You’re so young yet so wise! Your eyes and artistic works show so much wisdom and experience and he wishes to some extent that he could be like you. 

He wants your dedication and intelligence, too. He feels like he’s made some mistakes in his lifetime, and in the darker parts of his mind, he wonders if he doesn’t deserve you. 

You’re quick to remedy that with kisses and cuddles though. 

Side note: Lilia is a little spoon. I do not make the rules. 

He’ll get lost in your passion and artwork for HOURS. Seriously, he’ll just stare at your art and get this sense of comfort that he hasn’t felt before. And he’ll get that comfort all the same with you. You’re like home to him. 

He keeps a small painting of yours on his person at all times, maybe in a locket, which helps him calm down when his emotions get the better of him. 

He’ll also just look at it and giggle and kick his feet. He is whipped. 

Lilia is absolutely someone you can feel safe talking with. He may not always understand your emotions, and he can be a bit pigheaded when he thinks he’s right, but if anyone can talk some sense into him it’s you. 

He’ll be there for you at the end of each day and the beginning of each morning, and he’ll always remind you of how deep his love for you is. You are his everything. 

[daddy-celine]

So this is just something short I wanted to write lol

Warning:strong language, r@pe, creampies, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

P.S. I should mentor that this is my first time write something like this, I'm not really good with plot or smut but I tried my hardest lmao

🥹

I'm sitting in my room, it's Friday, and I didn't have class that day, so I slept most of it. After i woke up, I studied some more and cooked dinner. As I finished cooking, i got a feeling. Like someone was watching me. But I brushed it off as nothing and that I'm paranoid as usual. I finished eating and decided to watch a movie. I go to my living room and start to set up. I tuen on my TV, put on Netflix. Pop some popcorn, and get some blankets and pillows. I still have this nagging feeling but I continue. Once the popcorn is ready, I grab a bowl, dump it in, and head to the living area. I turn the lights off and sit down. I stroll through Netflix for awhile until I here a thud. I look up and wait a second to see if I hear it again...... and I do.

I get up and go see where it's coming, wondering if it's my cat Pepsi(I have a black cat), knowing she likes to know things over. I here it come from my room and follow it. I walk slowly to the room and see the door cracked. I Crack it open some more and see nothing, so I walk in further. I now stand in the middle of the room, still nothing, so I start to walk back downstairs..... until I was grabbed from behind. I start to panic as I realized someone broke in. As start painting I'm attempting to escape their grasp. I continue to struggle until there's a cloth over my face. The odor from the piece of fabric is harsh and I start to get lightheaded, feel sleepy, fatigue. As I start to go under I hear, "shh it's OK, I don't bite too hard." Then he laughs.

I woke up on a bed,with my arm tied to my legs being up and open. Worst is, I'm completely naked. Completely. I start to semi painc about my situation because on one hand I'm scared shirtless but on the other, I've lonnged to be taken like this, to be rape, to be used like a whole that's always open and ready. To just be a stupid cum slut who only job is to just take big, creamy, milky, fat loads until it looks like I'm pregnant with sextuplets. As I'm thinking I hear a door open and someone speak, "We'll, we'll, well... look who awake." I couldn't see them at first, but as they walked closer, I see what my capture looks like. He is tall with shoulder length black hair, very muscular body and broad shoulders. -What do you want with me? Who are you? Why am I here?- I ask. He stares at me for a moment until he says, "well one... I'm king,.. two, your in my house,.. and three you got sold buy your parents to me, so that makes you my property.. haha." -What do you mean?! I don't believe you!!- He stares at me again for a second until he turned on a TV, that showed my parents. It was a video of them explaining to me that I was no longer there problem and to stay away from them. They said that I was the only way to pay off there debt..... some parents. "Do you see... I own you now.. so let's start the party!! Hahahaha!"I started crying uncontrollably, fearing for my life as he spoke. "Aww, don't crying gonna be OK, just listen to me and everything will be alright." Like hell, I'll listen to you!!- "OH SHIT THE HELL UP!!! You know damn well you like how you look right now! I know you like being used! Taken advantage of! Your little Diary says it all!!" MY eyes widened at the mention of my diary, know I can't get out of this and start to cry more. "Just say yes and you could live how you always wanted. You can live like the filthy, dirty, slut you are." I think for a second. What I say now can either save or ruin my life. I wanna try and escape, put up a struggle, but I also want to lay here and let him rape me. So I wait a few seconds before I answer....

-Please fill my tiny cunt with cum!! Fill me up until you can't!- I moan loudly. "Atta girl. Haha."

He starts to undress, and I just watch. I'm getting soaked just watching him get naked. He takes off his shirt and drops his pants to his knees, as he does so, he's pumping his cock, getting ready. He grabs me by the hair and says "this pretty cunt is gonna make millions."

Then he shoves his thick, long cock it me, still has his hand in my hair. He starts fast, thirsting hard but deep. I immediately starts screaming and moan because of how good it felt, using my cunt for his own gain. -OH FUCCCCKKKKK!! SO DEEP! SO BIG! OHHH KEEP GOING, KEEP RAPING MY TIGHT LITTLE CUNT UHHHHHH!!- "AWW FUCK! Such a good pussy. FUCK!" He says as he comes for the first time. He keeps going until he comes a second, then a third, and so on. He's been going at it for hours and you have lost count on how much come is in side of you and hoe money times he has come. But the time he's done I'm so full I look like I'm in my third trimester of pregnancy. His come feels so earn inside of me, that I ask if I can keep it in, he says "Wow.. I knew you were a natural born slut."

Sorry guys that it sucks 😭

Also not proofread

[thegreatclowncat]

Woah, could you tell us more about your house that was inhabited by demons? I’m glad you’re alright :0

on it, boss

and thanks!

ok this is going to be veeerrry personal. mental health, religion, stuff

so i rented out a room inside of a condo for my sophomore-senior year of college with two other people. It was a narrow house, with all the bedrooms on the 2nd floor. Mine was at the top of the stairs, the rest were down a hallway. In retrospect, we had nothing that would leak gases into the house that would make us hallucinate or feel weird. everything indoors was electric, and the water heater was in an outdoor room with open-air access outside. However, we had no carbon monoxide meter, so. that's for anyone to speculate.

I started noticing that feeling of being watched coming from down the hallway on days when I was there alone, but I shrugged it off and attributed it to the fact I've felt that way ever since I was a little kid (to the point I had phobias of dark windows, closets, mirrors, and photos with eyes in them)

Walking towards my roommate's room always felt like I was descending into a pit. Like sudden full-body goosebumps, intense thoughts like "go away. go away turn around", it seeming 2x darker than the rest of the hallway, etc.

At some point I started seeing stuff back there, but turning to look at it directly, there'd be nothing. I just kinda treated it all like whatever. When i was 13 i had major depressive disorder to the point I developed hallucinations for a brief time. I just figured it was the same old stuff.

Until my roommates started talking about it. They knew about it for a long time. they called it "the house ghost" and hoped it was friendly. I didn't really care about it then either. It wasn't a problem, especially when my roommates were there.

then suddenly, i was alone. my a-spiritual roommate graduated and moved out, and the roommate whose room was at the back of the hall- her mental health got so bad that she had to move back home. ✨ForeShadowing✨. She would visit occasionally, but I was alone most of the time, and this was when covid started so I was stuck inside the house all day, too.

I do not know when or why they were there. I don't know why they were rooted onto that last room. at one point I braved the hallway and opened my roommate's room (I had to put something of hers inside). I didn't get a good look around, but there was a giant band poster taking up half of her wall that was just a very large hastily-painted eye. literally no idea if that's significant in any way lmao, it just scared the crap out of me (see eye phobia). Later on, that same roommate left a wiccan book on the kitchen counter. Are demons attracted to things like that? the book probably, but the rest, I am unsure. I don't know how many other wiccan or new age things like that she had in her room either. I can only speculate on whether or not she intentionally invited them, unintentionally did, or if they were there before all of us.

I am unsure why I believed there were three. I think it felt like three.

well, at this point it becomes a lot more subjective. All i can describe it as is: the things in the house reallllyyy didnt like me, and their old target left.

I didn't know a lot of my own promises as a Christian, like that demons couldn't hurt me or anything and that I am inherently protected and etc etc. I did not know I had authority over them and could tell them to skedaddle. I was afraid of them, and honestly that's the worst thing a person can be lol. I do think demons can *torment* someone, but only if they're given permission to. I mean, they could never hurt me -directly-, only... bother me, a lot. especially attacking places where i was still broken inside, and bringing up things and mental problems i struggled with a lot in the past

I was quite happy at this point in my life, even with the isolation. I really didn't like being in school, though. content warning for this next paragraph, self injurious ideation:

But out of the blue, I started getting intense intrusive thoughts about self harm and suicide. It was near constant sentences sounding off in my head. I say that, because I don't naturally have an internal monologue. So I... attributed it to the isolation. I didn't pay attention to the fact that it only happened when I was inside the house. After a few months of that, it started stressing me out. One day, my very religious mother visited, and I had to leave for a few hours. When I got back, she pulled me aside and said that the whole time she was in my room, something kept trying to tell her to jump off my balcony, among other things. She started blasting praise music through speakers, but said "for some reason, it was really, really difficult." I think i just started crying. I asked her how many demons there were in the house. she said, "three." Gosh, I wish I knew how to tell them off at the time. anyway

She didn't know how I could live through that every day for the last however long it was. I didn't know either. It didn't get better after that. Normally, they couldn't come in my room, full stop. but there was one time i unintentionally agreed with something demonic (i didnt think it was inherently bad on the surface) and didn't realize, that night I saw someone standing in my room. eventually, i printed out Bible verses and taped them to all of the walls around the house so I could recite them as I walked to my room.

unfortunately that was also the start of me not being able to listen to secular music, bc some bands would also bring them closer.

As far as I myself went, I started having intense mood swings, nightmares, depressive episodes, the most major dissociation i've ever experienced in my life, and the stress started ruining my digestive system to the point where I had to stop eating solid food for a little bit. That was the beginning of my last 3 years of sickness.

i made a funny tiktok that no longer exists online making fun of the whole house situation, and im quite proud of it but it has my face in it, so no one gets to see it :P

I FINALLY got out of the house, and moved away, but sadly my problems stuck. persistent indigestion and malnutrition worsened mental health to the point I stopped making enough neurotransmitters to feel emotions and sleep and have a normal memory, i was absolutely tortured with different things. i was so afraid of messing up and making demons hurt me (which was a lie. a lie very useful for them)(i believe it's called legalism, which, bad). I was a complete mess, physically mentally spiritually.

but yeah it took 3 years to learn that i can just. act in the authority i was given. fully believe im protected and forgiven and healed, even in my mind. command things to leave and they have to. i also started listening to music again, bc i know things cannot hurt me anymore. i dont have to be afraid of anything. ever again.

i'm all better now, i havent had neurotransmitter problems in ages, my stomach is healed, i get to exercise soon, the mood swings went away, i rarely ideate bad things, i dont remember my last depressive episode, and i havent had intrusive or bad thoughts in a while! i mean im still kind of weird and eccentric but that's to be expected

[kemakoshume]

Secrets Whispered in Writing — gojo x f!reader x geto

summary: Traveling through Edo-era Japan under the guard of two samurai—Satoru and Suguru—you find yourself in the mecca of art, music, and sex. You write your feelings down in your diary. Gojo and Getou are nosey.

· this is a samurai champloo!au based on episode 12 of the series. you don't need to watch the show to enjoy this but you should definitely watch it. it's amazing.

a/n: remember that samurai champloo fic i wrote for the lovely @cyancherub's "back from the dead" collab like... almost a year ago? lmao. well, i rewrote it, added a bunch to it, and made it satosugu x reader. so, here's that :) also posted on AO3. only the diary entries are in first-person; the rest of the fic isn't.

warnings: threesome (M/M/F), oral sex (f!receiving), double penetration.

❁ July 2nd — Sunny, then cloudy ❁

Gojo, Getou, and I landed in Edo for an extended mission today.

This is our fourth town and sixth month together. Things feel good.

I don’t have much to say about Edo except—wow. The people here are wild.

They make beautiful art with lacquers and textiles finer than silk.

The music feeds the soul and the food fuels carnal hunger.

They have sex without sexuality, and they have it in abundance.

Just between us, dear diary, the desire to throw myself into the debauchery of this town grows more and more with every hour we spend here.

What am I to do?

xx

❁ July 4th — Cloudy ❁

I met a prostitute in a bar today. She was very lovely.

She asked about my companions and how a country girl like me learned how to tend to two strong samurai.

I didn’t tell her that they aren’t technically samurai.

They’re just two bozos with a little training and nice reflexes that can wield swords.

But anyway… I also didn’t tell her that I don’t ‘tend’ to them.

I’m afraid to admit that I want to.

xx

❁ July 5th — Rainy, then foggy ❁

Today, I saw something that my eyes could’ve never imagined.

I’ve heard murmurs for ages that men here explore in ways that they don’t in the countryside. Today, I saw it.

Two men, out in the open inside our ryokan, making love like men do to women.

Now I can’t help but wonder if those two do the same when I’m not around.

If they’ve ever thought about it…

Hmph

xx

❁ July 7th — Rainy, with sun ❁

I saw that prostitute again.

She suggested that the boys and I go to a bathhouse.

We went, and I saw it again.

Two men, but this time with a woman—another worker.

All three of them, together. I didn’t know that was possible.

xx

❁ July 8th — Rainy ❁

I can’t stop picturing it.

The three of us, like those people in the bathhouse.

If it were possible.

xx

❁ July 10th — Warm, and wet ❁

A handsome man who paints portraits asked me on the street if he could draw me.

I said yes. He showed me his home, and he drew me nude.

He asked if I could touch myself… like the yuujo girls that sit in the shop windows do to attract customers.

I said yes. He drew that too.

My mind raced with thoughts of Suguru’s polished hands and Satoru’s slick tongue the entire time.

Fuck.

xx

❁ July 11th — Cloudy, with sunshine ❁

Things feel funny.

Getou held my waist today as he walked past me.

He and Gojo haven’t fought in two days.

Well, each other, at least.

They’ve fought plenty of other people.

Strange.

xx

❁ July 12th — Foggy ❁

We’ll only be in Edo for one more day.

I don’t want to leave.

The energy is infectious.

I’ve caught it like a disease.

xx

❁ July 13th — Sunny, but cool ❁

Gojo suggested we stay another night.

He conned a guy out of a home to stay in.

Getou and I said yes.

xx

❁ July 14th — Sunny ❁

I figured it out.

I know you two are reading these. Getou—give Gojo my regards.

And answer my questions ~

Cowards.

xx

“So, are you going to explain yourselves or just sit in silence all night?”

You looked down at the two men from your position at the head of your shared sleeping room, staring down at them sitting on the floor in front of you while you leaned on the homeowner’s large wooden desk. Satoru sat with his long legs crossed at the knees—his arms folded in a similar fashion across the lean muscle of his chest. Suguru did the same, though his large indigo blue haori sleeves hid his muscular arms, and his hands were interlaced in his lap—almost like he was meditating. Their faces housed similar scowls, though Gojo’s was characteristically indignant while Getou looked typically temperate.

For a moment, the room was vacant of your voices. The only sound that was audible between the firm wooden walls was your breathing—heavy against the weight of your breasts beneath the lining of your delicate yukata. The mid-summer warmth bled into the air, making all three of you bead lightly with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Well?” you said, your tone insistent as the sound of cicadas nestled in the trees grew louder from outside the ryokan.

Gojo huffed, shaking out the pleasantly clean—for once—mop of wavey white curls on top of his head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling us cowards when you were busy hiding your feelings in your diary,” he said, his voice gruff as he moved his line of sight from the floor and fixed it on you. “Yeah, we read your stupid diary! Shouldn’t leave shit lying around if you don’t want anyone to see.”

A deep inhale of air filled your lungs, only for it to be expelled twice as fast. “Satoru,” you said, your eyes pointed and glaring at the wild-haired man, “that was one of my personal things. I don’t touch your swords, so why would you touch my diary? It’s basically the same thing!”

He scoffed, something akin to a laugh bubbling in his throat. “Do you protect us with that journal, princess? Can that journal cut your cute little fingers off if you wield it wrong? Hm?”

You huffed, sputtering out rushing words to negate the man’s sentiments. Though, as even Getou breathed out a chuckle, you knew your protests fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“So, no then?” Gojo said, cocking his full lips into a lazy smile. “Hear that, Suguru? She thinks her diary is the same thing as a sword.”

Your foot hit the floor with a dull thud as you stomped one down in petulant irritation. “That’s not what I said! And, anyway, it’s still my thing. My private thing. You had no right to read it!”

Satoru adjusted his body, sitting so that his right leg was still crossed, but now his left was propped up—making the already lanky man look even larger as he spread out his limbs.

“I didn’t read anything,” he said, feigning innocence—as the man was notably illiterate. “But, you can’t stand here and play the dumb card with us, princess. You say you didn’t want us to see, but you left the thing on my side of the room—and you know I’m nosey. And you left it here unattended, out in the open, knowing that Getou here can read. For something you’re so protective of, you sure do a lousy job at keeping it hidden. Unless—”

“She wanted us to read it, as proven obvious by the last submission in the journal,” Suguru said, lifting his gaze to look up at you as well. “And your incessant desire to know our thoughts about the ill-kept secrets you filled the pages with.”

Despite your higher position, being the one standing, suddenly you felt small in front of the two men. Getou—the stoic man with long black hair and piercing eyes, with dewy milk-white skin unwithered despite your days in the sun, and Gojo—the other man sworn to protect you on your journey, with untamed hair and tan skin—facial hair that added a more masculine edge to his thinner physique, and a tongue as quick as the draw of his sword.

The two couldn’t have been more different in most ways. Suguru was refined; Satoru was a menace. Yet somehow, despite the difference in their dispositions, in moments like this, they couldn’t have felt more similar. When they were toying with you with their words, passing you back and forth to be teased and taunted in that way you begrudgingly enjoyed, their similarities shined. They were always at their best when it came to playing with you.

“Well, out with it then,” Gojo said, tapping his foot impatiently. “We’ve already decided to share you, so get on with it and ask.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering in disbelief as you scoffed. “Share me?” you said, followed by a series of incomplete thoughts flowing out in a blur from your lips. “I—I just… share? Me, with both of you? Do I look like a geiko to you? I mean… Satoru, I would never, and Suguru, you barely even look at me half the time. So, I—”

Suguru stood up without a word, crossing the small distance between where he sat and where you stood with three long strides. Your protests ceased as he slid his body against yours, his front flush against you as the man held your face in his hands.

“Stop talking,” he said firmly, making the rush of words halt on your tongue. “We read enough to know what you want. Do you want it to be a reality, or are you content with it being a personal fairytale forever?”

You looked up into Suguru’s deep onyx-colored eyes, somehow tinged even darker with a hint of something you’d never seen on the man’s face before. The fixed position of his jaw, like the man was holding back words—which, for him, was strange—enticed you to nod as he lowered his hands to your hips, guiding you to sit back on the desk.

“Good, then lay down.”

You did as you were told and laid down on the desk, feebly attempting to hold the slipping fabric of your yukata closed in the front as the fabric stretched in the new position.

“Oh, now she’s shy,” Gojo murmured, rolling his eyes as he stood too, coming over to sit next to you on the heavy desk. “But you showed that hack painter the goods with no problem?”

Satoru gripped the obe keeping the thin fabric closed, looking down at you with those crystal-blue eyes in wait until you nodded your head and moved your hands—removing them from where they’d been gripping the garment tight to shield your bare skin beneath.

“Are you hustling us?” Suguru asked, running his hands up your nude body beneath the fabric, causing it to pool around you like a halo as the fabric fell off of you and down onto the desk, only still connected to you by the sleeves. “No wrapping for your breasts. No drawers. And your skin is so supple—practically begging to be touched.”

He wasted no time in dipping his head down then, leaning his tall body over your smaller frame easily to envelop you in his warmth—the weight of his mouth on your skin sending heat down from the crown of your head to your feet as a shiver coursed through your body. He nosed your neck, nipping the area with his teeth before soothing the pain away with kisses while his hands traveled the curves and dips of your body.

Gojo watched, looking down at you both as Getou took one taut nipple into his mouth and sucked before moving his attention down the length of your torso.

“You smell wonderful right here,” Suguru said, kissing his way down until he was squatting, his face level with your cunt. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything to you. Have you thought about this for that long?”

You nodded, willing to throw away a bit of your pride as the man’s mouth hovered so close but still too far away from where you wanted it.

“Me?” Satoru said indignantly, scrunching his nose in irritation. “I thought this was supposed to be a group project, casanova.”

The blue-eyed man adjusted his body to be comfortable as he lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking. You ran your hand through Gojo's hair, lightly gripping the soft strands to keep his mouth on you as Suguru lifted your legs, pushing them back and resting his arms against the back of your thighs to keep them open.

“It’s like a little pearl,” Suguru said, mostly to himself as an airy moan left your lungs due to Gojo adding his hands to the mix, pinching your unattended nipple with his fingers.

He lowered his mouth down to your “pearl” then, flicking the muscle tentatively at first, then relaxing into the motions as you wiggled your hips to make him move.

“See?” you said, your voice not sounding like your own as you spoke. “You two work together great. Perfect partners in crime.”

You felt more than saw Suguru's eye roll as he smacked the soft skin of your inner thighs, and Satoru very subtly added his teeth into the next bout of suction against your sensitive nipple. The slight sting of pain added to the pleasure, and you felt the feeling growing beneath your skin as their tongues worked harder against your body.

Satoru moved, adjusting to lay on his side next to you as he toyed with your breasts. The sound of their tongues on your skin was loud in the quiet room as your high crept up on you, building to a fever pitch until you felt nothing but wet heat and saw infinite darkness behind your eyelids. Soft whimpers and long moans poured out of your mouth to accompany it.

“Do you want to taste her? She tastes divine,” Getou murmured toward Gojo, his words slurred slightly as he licked you gently as your orgasm came down. He looked like a man starved; like he couldn’t care less that the “end” had occurred. He just wanted more of you.

Satoru lifted his head, stopping his mission of marking any skin he could get his mouth on. “I wouldn’t describe pussy as divine, but you do your thing. I want to feel her inside,” he said, looking down to watch Getou flick his tongue against your slick folds with reverence again before hopping off of the desk.

“Let’s move this party down to the floor, hm?” Gojo said, running his blunt nails along the sensitive skin of Suguru’s neck as he walked behind him. He slotted his hand in the man’s hair, pulling his head backward to remove him from his daze of feasting on you.

You couldn’t hear well over the beating of your heart in your ears, but you’re sure you heard a slight whine tumble from Getou’s mouth just as a disappointed groan left yours.

“No,” you said, pouting with irritation as Gojo coaxed Getou backward with his hold on his hair. “I felt another one coming.”

He hummed, guiding Suguru down to the ground that was padded with thick tatami mats. “Don’t pout,” Satoru said, walking back over to you. “You’ll get yours again, princess, don’t worry. Waiting for it a little won’t kill you.” He wasted no time lifting you off the furniture, carrying your weight easily with his deceptively strong arms.

He sat you down in between Suguru's legs allowing the other man to hold you close to his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. As you settled into his lap, your eyes focused forward on Gojo, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp as you saw his length. It hung free from his pants, heavy and blushed at the tip between his legs as he approached you on the tatami.

“Don’t act all innocent,” he said, leaning into your space to kiss you before slotting his legs with Getou’s—caging you between them both. “You’ve seen a dick before.”

You blinked dumbly, wondering how much an insufferable man could be blessed with so much girth. “Not one like that,” you muttered, yelping with a shout as Gojo landed a swift spank against your sensitive bud.

“Shut up,” he groaned, resting his hand on the firm bone above your cunt while his thumb dipped down into the mess of sloppy wet slick coating your sex. “Getou, get your cock out. I want to try something.”

The typical temperate man made no contests as he normally would. He simply lifted your body enough to wiggle his pants down and placed you back down in his lap, pressing his hard length against your back.

“It’s out. Now what?”

Gojo smirked, pushing your legs toward your chest as he sat up enough to be kneeling.

“Hold these,” he said, gripping your thighs until Getou’s hands replaced his—holding you open and exposed for the world to see.

“I’ll get her nice and ready, then you can have your fill, Suguru.”

Gojo fisted his cock, running his hand up and down the length a few times before nestling himself against your entrance—impatiently asking for your approval with his eyes. You nodded as Getou tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, and he kissed you—deep and filled with passion you didn’t know the man was capable of while Gojo sheathed himself into your wet heat, groaning as he bottomed out.

“Jesus, you’re soft. Everywhere, but fuck—right here. Inside,” he said, his breathing ragged as he began to move. His characteristic ruthlessness came out in full force as he wasted no time thrusting into you, making your body jolt and rub against Getou’s abdomen, and thus his cock trapped in-between.

“A little less rough, Gojo,” Getou said, a weak moan spilling from his lips as a particularly firm thrust that made him rut against you harder than he meant to. “I’d rather not cum on her back, at least not like this.”

Satoru laughed, loosening his grip on your hips as he looked the other man in the eye. “Well, get inside of her then, dumbass. I’ll wait.”

You allowed your body to be rag-dolled as the men exchanged places inside of you—Satoru’s hard length pulling out as Suguru slid inside.

“‘S’ different,” you said, moaning into the exchange as Gojo’s girth was switched with Getou’s length. “Fucking good. It’s really good.”

Suguru cooed at you, kissing you messily as one of his hands found your nipple while the other gripped your waist—holding you still while Suguru fucked you. Satoru busied his hands with your clit as he let the other man get his fill, tugging his own cock as he watched his fuck into you nice and deep despite the position.

Gojo and patient were two words that had never complimented each other well, so when he pressed his length against your entrance, with Getou still inside, all you could do was beg for more despite the surprise. You gasped when he lightly breached your cunt, accidentally slipping in when you slammed down onto Getou’s cock. Satoru had been jerking himself off with his tip against your folds. Still, once the idea was there…

“Do it again,” you said, taking a deep breath when Suguru stopped his thrusts for a moment to process what you were asking for.

The two men communicated something with their eyes and then directed their looks down to you.

“Well, she did say she wanted us both, right? Like that prostitute and her clients at the bathhouse?” Gojo said, faltering as your breathing quickened once you pieced together that the two were okay with what you wanted.

It should have terrified you. Absolutely petrified you, but it didn’t. Your heart raced with excitement as the two men positioned themselves to do what your dreams couldn’t have conjured on their own. You felt your cunt drip with want at the mere thought of it, and the two men—the men who put their lives on the line for yours daily, who loved you so deeply in their own ways— were both ready to make it happen.

“I want it,” you whimpered, wiggling your hips back and forth to entice the man to move. For one of them to do something. “I want you both.”

You could feel Suguru’s body tense as you said the words, but you lulled his worries with a massaging squeeze with your walls around his cock—eliciting a deep moan from the man and at that moment, Satoru made you whole.

His cock nestled in snug against Getou’s, stretching you to your limits, then he moved. Slow at first, with nothing but careful intent in his eyes as he let you adjust. But after a few minutes, filled with distracting kisses and caresses on all the spots you needed their hands the most, Gojo fucked you—and you saw stars. Everything was shrouded in darkness after that. Your eyes snapped closed, and your ears no longer processed sound as the overwhelming sensation of fullness processed in your nerves, driving you to the brink of insanity as the two men rutted into you—grabbing any flesh they could reach while tangling their tongues with yours—and each other—before you were all reaching your peaks, stuffed and satiated with the warm trembling of post-coital glow.

It was bliss.

“What else do you want to try, Satoru?” Suguru panted, breathless as you all soaked in each other’s presence on the quickly cooling tatami mats. Kissing and cuddling once Satoru pulled out of you, while Getou decided to leave his cock inside you for warmth.

“Hell if I know. She’s the creative one here,” Satoru said, a lazy smile gracing his face again as he pulled you into a kiss.

“That she is.” Suguru purred, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “We have all the time in the world to try everything you dream of and more, princess.”

You hummed, letting the two kiss you and touch you to your heart's content, falling into the rhythm of ‘want’ all over again.

“You know… you two never really answered my question,” you said between kisses, interrupting Suguru as he rubbed circles against your clit with his long middle finger.

“The question being?” he asked, resuming his movements as he stopped trying to rack his brain for the answer on his own.

“Have you ever done this when you’re alone?” You asked, placing a quick kiss on the samurai's throat as you gazed at Satoru. “Did you think I didn’t notice you kissing, too?”

They looked between each other, scowled, and groaned a matching, “only in your dreams.”

Though the slightest hint of hesitation gave them away, and the night of exploration continued.

------

thanks for reading <;3 taglist; ao3; twitter

[spongeofaces]

Hello! I saw that matchups were open and thought I'd send in a romantic request for Twisted Wonderland. No first-years pls

Appearance-wise I am a 165 cm tall, average build, Bangladeshi woman (She/her but also cool with they/them). I have wavy black hair that just reaches below my shoulders and I usually dress in South Asian attire, usually salwar-kameez plus a hijab. I also wear glasses. I don't really feel comfortable going out without them 😅

My MBTI and enneagram: INTJ 5w4

Star sign: Sagittarius sun, Virgo moon and rising (I act more like a Virgo, allegedly)

Sexuality: demiromantic asexual (demisexual?)

Personality traits: Calm, collected, polite, quiet, shy (but that can easily be mistaken for being aloof or done with everyone's shit (they aren't entirely wrong about the latter) (someone told me I radiate black cat energy), not very facially expressive (I'm the most emotional emotionless person I know. I do feel things more deeply than people give me credit for), a good listener, hardworking (I often bite off more than I can chew and end up burnt out), intelligent (especially with numbers. RIP impostor syndrome + gifted kid burnout syndrome. As much as I love my major, electrical engineering is kicking my ass). I am also the oldest of three sisters, so I'm good at handling kids (I'm also expected to be the perfect daughter, so... yea). Someone also told me I'm wise, but all that wisdom came from all the books I read + watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lmao. The same person also said my presence was therapeutic (paraphrasing, of course. Also, this is alleged)

Hobbies: Making art, making jewelry, reading, writing, animating (I'm relatively new to animation. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, but I'm still having fun), basically anything creative. I especially like to draw and paint things that radiate a sense of comfort, nostalgia, and serenity. Someone also told me that my artworks also hold a sort of innocence in the composition of the shapes, colours, and overall vibe of what I draw/paint. I also make jewelry from time to time

Likes: Classical music, lofi hip-hop, indie rpgs (Yume Nikki and Off have me in a chokehold, though not as tight as Obey Me, Court of Darkness, and Twisted Wonderland), tea, creative outlets. I also like to learn psychology

Dislikes: Cruelty, anyone who would dare to threaten my family or friends, loud noises, red meat (The texture is too much for me to handle), bright lights. I also dislike strong smelling things and being in crowded, noisy and bright environments for prolonged periods of time

What qualities do you look for in a partner? It may not look like it on the surface, but I'm a huge softie, I'd like anyone who I can feel safe talking to. They don't need to be perfect, I just need them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I also would not tolerate it if my partner belittles me or if they're just mean or rude for no apparent reason.

My love languages include making art for them and spending quality time

How do you want to receive affection? As I stated before, I would like them to put effort into helping me with my emotional needs. I already do that a lot with others, so I'd like it if they turn the tables on me. I would also like physical touch and words of affirmation, but I can't guarantee I'll know how to react to that at first 🥲. It's gonna take some time for me to get used to it

I hope this is enough information. Thanks in advance if you choose to write this

I match anon with...

🍩 Ruggie Bucchi 🍩

-:-:-:-

Now, this may seem like an unlikely match, but hear me out.

Ruggie is known to be a caregiver back in his community. He knows how to look after his own.

It may take some time to earn his trust, as he sees kind gestures as 'favors' that he is expected to repay. Show him that the gestures are genuine, without need for compensation, and with time, he'll warm up to you... eventually.

When in a relationship, any gift or piece of art given to him would be treasured. He'd be all aloof when recieving it, but I'll bet that if you ever visit his dorm you'll find each gift displayed or in some special box.

He's a good listener, feel free to rant to him. Can't promise that he won't find the source of your troubles and 'mildly' inconvenience them though.

A fellow hardworker! Well, Ruggie's a bit of a lazy hardworker, but he'll go pretty far for some food and coin. He'll help you out, but he'll expect something in return... a scratch behind the ears, maybe?

A real sweetie once you get close.

Street-smart, and intelligent, but he'll need your wisdom and your calm, collected energy to make sure he doesn't get in too much trouble.

Other options: Trey and Malleus.