#so this is like all of that.. consumin her ;)

[swagstar]

I WANNA PUT YOU IN MY MOUTH

[cuntstable]

ive been thinking about hermes so much the past few days bc jojo screenshots on twitter is posting through the Kiss of love and revenge arc rn and. once again thinking about ”all i want to do is to cry by your side”. au au auuuuuuuu

[musclemanveryregular]

I'd like to know more about Starlas and Twilights sister relationship, they appear to be close which i think is quite sweet...do you get along with ms Sparkle,Muscleman?

Okay so get this. Okay. This is like ooc and unrelated if this were to be considered a role-playing blog. Which maybe it is. I dont freakin know.

But here's what I'm trying to say: imagine this.

And I hear you, you're saying get to the point already so here it is.

Regular show has all these like weird talking animals and little green guys and a living candy machine and whatnot. What if the universe of regular show is akin to roger rabbit, ya get me? Like all the TV shows we see on TV are just live action shows starrin' toons. Except. For the guys at the park. So like.

It makes sense that cartoons don't actually follow any real logic in their relations. Like how Barbie and Shaggy are related.

So Starla being related to Twilight Sparkle? Believable. Not every toon has to be an actor, y'know?

Anyways sorry for doing this here I feel like a Facebook grandma who types in Facebook her google search question because she forgets which is which because I meant to make this its own post after I already opened your ask, but I had moved apps for a sec and came back and forgot your question was there. Also for some reason this was all meant to be read in a Brooklyn accent. Also also there is this problem on the version of the app I have. Y'see I haven't updated the app in like a year or so maybe? But my wife? She's always gotta have the latest version of everything. Me? Not so much. She tells me how nice it is to be able to see polls without going to the website version of this tumblr website, and I says to her, "honey I get it but I cant stand that tumblr live junk." She said to me, "that's fair." Boy, do I love my wife. Anyways I cant copy more than one paragraph at a time. Anytime I hit enter it goes to a new paragraph and in order to remove this from your ask I'd have to copy every single one so i dont have to start over and it's all just so time consumin I just chose to keep going here... So anyways, I've passed the phone over to Muscle Man.

MUSCLE MAN: Yeah, we get along pretty well together.

[hopefully-nightly-doodles]

I used to draw such good dynamic poses when I was younger what happed to me 😭😭😭 all of these are from 2021 done in a short time with no refs- Like how did I do that aslkdna I mean I still dont use refs often unless Im doing studies or struggling but like I feel like I've lost that confidence man- the closest I've had recently to havin a really nice dynamic pose was that young Leo art I colored, and the thumbs I had for that

Which was this, and I still adore it but I picked the other pose cuz it showed off her new design better. But like back on topic I think the reason for this dip quality I think is because back then I just drew whatever the fuck I wanted- There was no pressure in my head that it had to look cool, so it just made me more confident and made me draw more often. but since gaining a followin and learning more about the fundamentals its kinda tied me down to thinking that I have to always be producing at a certain level of quality- Like dont get me wrong, all artist go through a "dip" in their art when their "artist eye" improves faster than their skill. And not all of my art from 2021 were this good, I def had to pick from the pile of chicken scratches I had. But I feel like dynamic poses like those happened more often back then compared to now. Like I made this account specifically to like get out of my head and post all my scribbles and learn to stop carin so much about the quality of everything I put out. And I do post almost every silly lil thing I put down onto here and it does help but it just doesnt change the fact I havent been drawin much at all :'] Hence the infrequent updates. I feel like thats something a lot of older artist struggle in over coming. Like the mentality of "you've been doin this shit for so long why aren't you improving as much as you think you should be at this point?" snakes into our heads more often than the younger artist. Because they just want to draw everyday cuz its fun, so they just draw draw draw without caring. Learnin the fundamentals of art is always good, I do recommend learning them if you want significant improvements in your skills, but learning them means youre going to make a lot of ugly art. And seeing those "ugly arts" slowly chips away at you sometimes, and a lot of artist drop art when facing that hurdle. But like its okay to make ugly ass lookin art- Its part of the process and you can not skip it!! You cant just not draw for a month cuz you got super sad for making something that isn't 100% like the image you had in your head, then pick up your pen again and think that somehow NOW you can do it even tho you havent draw anythin at all- Consumin art and improving the visual library in your head is of course important, but you cant just keep expanding your Pinterest boards assuming it will make you better.

What are we? AI?

HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Ahem- Anyway am I calling myself out on this post? Absolutely! Infact that was the whole reason I made this in the first place. But Im now also calling YOU out :D Yes you! The person that stumbled on this post and relates to it!! Pick up a pencil and draw damn it!!! It wont be "ugly" forever I promise.

[void-soda]

Would love to hear some AU versions!

Okay, so let's talk about my OC Rose for like a few minutes!

Now to re-establish her narrative, my Rose has a condition of her slowly becoming more of a bimbo due to an escessive consumption of potions over at least 15 years. While potions normall don't do this, it's a matter of consumin so many potions at once, everyday, sometimes multiple times a day that lead her here.

An example of point A (late teens) to B (20s) to C (30s also Nina's there now):

I currently, and regularly draw Rose at point C

Well, then I made an AU version of her of if the potions never really affected her brain to become who she is.

And it's fun bc while I've never explained all her scenarios, it's super fun to see how different they are bc this Rose is a very different person here. With all of her wisdom and pride (and her ego) staying with her as she grew older. It shows her being more of a tsun as well, bc well, this one kinda sucks at making (and keeping) friends and just wants someone to hang out with. Meanwhile she has to hold back all her horny thoughts (tm) that her canon version just kind of acts on with ease bc she's already losing her mind, might as well have fun if she can't fond a cure before she's 50. Its very different energy between the two.

Also she's got like 3 other AUs. One where potions couldn't affect her body at all bc of bad luck so she's a lot more apathetic and jealous of people. There's a fantasy AU of her and Nina where she's a warlock instead. Then there's an AU version for a comic I need to work on some day

Anyways, here's a doodle of AU!Rose about to meet the consequences of her actions for teasing Nina too much.

[gurorori]

Actually real i trust your taste. Rec me some songs🤲 i usually listen to anything, so if you're unsure what to recommend, even just the ones you like best will work :3

hearin these words is better than sex btw.

anyway i can definitelyyyyyy recommend ya a few. idk if yr an album listener (as in jus lettin a lp play n consumin music dat way. idk. i really appreciate listenin 2 an albu as a whole in one go but it might nawt do da trick 4 ya & dat ok n_n) so ill jus list sum of my favorite songs of hers (which r a lot honesly)

heathens... blood in the wine... artemis... hunger... in bottles.. this could b a dream.. <- LISEN 2 ALL THESE SOOO MUCH... oh n queendom 🫶🏼

some of her more 'mainstream' songs r prolly: runnin with the wolves & cure for me, (oh n don gemme wrong i DIE for these esp cure 4 me it mean so much 2 meeee Prolly my fav songahers), runaway... the seed...

theres ofc more but i wudn wanna overwhelm ya since this doesn look like a lot2 me but as a new listener it is. but i also think yud enjoy exist for love & animal. mebbe puppet :3c

[ishizizzle]

I love stardew valley yall ☕️☀️🌻

Edit: Stardew blog

[queen-scribbles]

in the kitchen for the kiss prompt list for ederity?

Something smelled divine the second Charity stepped into the house, and she let her eyes flutter closed a moment as she inhaled the aroma before tugging off her boots. She’d padded halfway across the living room before it registered there were two delicious smells wafting from the kitchen; that heavenly boar dish they hadn’t had in ages, and-

“Are you makin’ bread?” she asked as she leaned against the kitchen doorway, even though the answer was readily apparent.

Edér looked her direction and grinned, his hands going still pressed into a lump of dough. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Why the surprised face, Char? You know I like doin’ this sort of thing.”

“I do, but isn’t bread more...” she paused, looking for the right word. Involved? Complicated? “...time consumin’?”

“It can be,” he nodded as he resumed kneading. “But with makin’ the boar, I had the time.”

Charity stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter to watch him work. “So, did I forget an anniversary, or did you do somethin’ real bad and decide to bribe me with food so you wouldn’t get in trouble?” she teased.

Edér chuckled. “First off, you say that like it wouldn’t work. Second, maybe I just felt like makin’ a nice dinner for my wife.”

“And you just happened to pick the most time-consumin’--if delicious--option-” She narrowed her eyes. “Edér Teylecg, are you usin’ me as an excuse to avoid your mayoral responsibilities?”

He flashed a sheepish smile. “Maybe.” He gestured with one flour-covered hand. “A little. Just for today.”

Charity sighed fondly and shook her head with a smile. “Edér...”

“I’ll be good and responsible t’morrow, darlin’. Cross m’ heart.” He did the gesture as he spoke the words, leaving a flour-dust X that stood out all the more thanks to his dark green shirt.

“Oh, well, if you’re crossin’ your heart, I can let it slide,” she chuckled. She ran a look over him; flour up to the elbows, white smudges marking other places on his shirt, and streaks on his cheeks and forehead. “For now, I’ll just enjoy the sight of my husband covered in flour and cookin’ me dinner.”

“‘M not covered,” Edér protested, shaping the dough into a loaf before he turned to face her.

Charity rolled her eyes and reached up to dust flour out of his beard. “Covered,” she said emphatically.

He chuckled and ran one finger from her forehead down to the tip of her nose, leaving a white trail in its wake. “Wouldn’t want you t’ feel left out.”

She rolled her eyes again and sidled closer. “So kind of you. You’re real lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

Edér grinned cheekily. “Oh, I’m lucky for plenty of reasons beyond that...”

Charity grinned back and snagged the front of his shirt to pull him toward her.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They leaned into the kiss at the same moment, Charity’s hand still tangled in his shirt and Edér’s cupping the back of her head, leaving flour streaked on her neck and in her hair.

She smeared her hand through the flour strewn across the counter and brought it up to smack between his shoulder blades, leaving a somewhat smudgy handprint.

Edér chuckled into the kiss. “You really wanna start that war, darlin’?” he mumbled, not fully pulling away.

“Nah.” Charity braced her hand against the edge of the counter as she leaned into the kiss again. “It’d be a pain and a half to clean up. Just wanted us even.”

“Smart woman.” He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pressing his hand to small of her back as he pulled her close. “Now we’re even. An’ dinner’s gonna burn if you distract me much longer.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” She eased back, letting her hand slip under his shirt to trail fingers across skin as she did. “It’d be a crime to waste your cookin. Fun as it is to be a distraction.”

Edér bit his lip, shook his head, and kissed her temple before turning to check on the food. “We can revisit you bein’ distractin’ after we eat.”

Charity laughed. He was probably right; there would be water involved with clean up, after all. “Deal.”

[shardminds]

I picture your hands on me.

“First, I want you to drive us somewhere nice and quiet." "Then I want you to come back here and fuck my brains out.”

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones Rating: E WC: 3.8K

Here’s some Captain Swan car sex for your troubles.

Also available on AO3

Emma Swan doesn’t get drunk. That’s what she tells herself, all the while giggling and stumbling from the toilet stall into the arms of an equally intoxicated and equally giddy Mary Margaret. In fairness, she hadn’t had the opportunity to get drunk in a while. Nights these days were, more often than not, filled with street patrols and paperwork. Being a cop had many perks but the night shifts were not one of them. 

She couldn’t wear this dress or these boots out on the job anyway. The black faux leather was tight, barely reaching her mid-thigh and the stiletto boots cut off just above the knee. Definitely not regulation uniform. 

Perps would most likely hand themselves over to her if she did wear this on patrol, though. That’s one way to boost her numbers.

When David had initially asked if she wanted to take his wife out for a drink, she thought he’d been joking… evidently not. He had to buckle down on one of his larger cases and it just happened to line up with Emma’s night off. He’d offered to pay her back in bear claws from Granny’s when they were next on duty together and that had sold her. Calories don’t count if someone else buys them for you, right? David had, however, forgotten to mention his wife’s wild side that rears it’s boisterous head whenever liquor is involved. 

Tequila is her drink of choice. No chaser. No salt and lime. Just straight up tequila. Emma hadn’t even downed her second by the time the petite brunette was polishing off her fifth with a belch that would’ve had Leeroy blushing. It all went downhill from there. 

Mary Margaret yanks her out of the restroom, getting a little handsy in the process, and drags them to the less crowded hallway. Emma didn’t even get the chance to wash her hands. She’s chattering on about something or other but Emma can’t focus. Her skin is softly buzzing, the whole world around her a pleasant hum.

Emma Swan doesn’t get drunk, but when she does, it feels fantastic.

Did she have hand sanitizer in her clutch? It seems like a pretty important thing that everyone should carry in case of emergency, right? Especially on those days when your partner’s wife drags you away from the restroom before you’ve been able to take care of your own personal hygiene. It’s not like she’d peed all over her hands or anything. It’s just better to be safe than sorry. A quick rifle through her purse proved fruitless but at least it helped her regain focus… right at the end of her friend’s story. If they weren’t friends before tonight, they definitely were now.

“-and that’s how David got the scar but if you tell him I told you he’ll be so mad, Emma! Soooo so mad!” 

“About what?” It escapes before she can stop it and Mary Margaret just laughs at her. 

“Exactly!” She squeals, wiping away tears of laughter Emma hadn’t noticed before throwing an arm around her friend’s waist and leaning into her side, guiding them to the bar. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

The bartender didn’t even ask what they were having. Simply winking in their direction before setting down two shots and a couple of fingers of rum. Mary Margaret pays with a flourish of David’s credit card, index finger pressed to her lips in a shhh gesture. 

Before she can even think of all the ways David is going to kill her, Emma’s phone chimes. She tries to fight back the smile that comes along with Killian’s name flashing up on her screen, but she lost that battle long ago. They’ve been dating for over a year and he still manages to make her heart involuntarily flutter with every text. No one else makes her heart soften as he does. It had taken time, patience and a whole lot of nudging from David and Ruby for them to even get together in the first place and yet, Emma, with her seemingly endless walls, and Killian, with a metric shitload of his own baggage, managed to make it work. 

She loves him. Wholly. It had taken her forever to admit it but, between his soft kisses and even gentler touches, she’d whispered it against his skin. More a sigh than a declaration, but a promise nonetheless. 

Killian: running late, my love

Killian: nodded off marking… again 

Killian: be there in 5, does MM need a lift? 

He’s so good to her. To all of them. He’d agreed to pick her up at midnight, making a joke about pumpkins as he’d kissed her goodbye earlier. It’s almost half-past now but she can’t bring herself to be mad. She loves him. Like really, really loves him. It’s scary and exciting and if it had been anyone else she’d have run away by now but it’s him and that makes it all okay. All the tension she didn’t know she was holding evaporates away upon reading his texts. She throws back her drink in one gulp and starts typing.

Emma: i love u.  i will ass

Emma: ask

Emma: fuck

Emma: love u

Killian: haha had one too many, swan?

Killian: i’ll bring you some water x

She didn’t always understand the x’s he sometimes added to the end of his texts. He’d explained it to her once but the patterns his fingers had been tracing across the soft skin of her belly had been a far more pressing focus at the time. 

“It’s meant to be a kiss, love. It’s a common courtesy back home.” He’d said, placing a kiss of his own to the furrow in her brow. The furrow only deepened, which made him smile.

“But… why?” She snuggled closer to his chest, the coarse hair there ticking at her bare skin. Post-coital conversations about British text etiquette were just one of the many reasons she’d agreed to move in with him.

Regardless of her level of understanding, the addition brings a warm flush to her cheeks.

Mary Margaret is still at the bar, no longer drinking (thank god) but, if the way her index finger is pressed menacingly against the chest of a man almost twice her size is anything to go by, Emma’s willing to bet she was about to get herself in even more trouble. 

Behind her, there’s a familiar exasperated sigh. 

“I think it’s quittin’ time for us, Ems.” David yawned, patting her shoulder as he did. He was still in his uniform which must have scared the shit out of the bouncers on his way in. She didn’t mean to laugh but the thought had her chuckling. His case mustn’t have gone very well. His smile is soft and small, not blinding like it usually is. She’s about to ask him about it when a scream rips out ahead of them.

“DAVID!”

The thump as Mary Margaret collides with her husband’s chest knocks the air straight out of him in a dull oof. Without thinking, Emma snaps a picture and hits send.

Emma: mm has a ride

Emma: i’ll take one if u r offering tho ;)

They’re both still laughing, breathless, in each other’s arms before Emma gets pulled into the mix. David thanks her for keeping an eye on his wife with a strong hug while Mary Margaret attaches to her side like a barnacle and thanks her with slurred speech for celebrating her promotion together.

Emma hadn’t even known they’d been celebrating. That’s tequila for you.

“I better get this one home. Thanks again, Ems.”  David smiles her way before looking down to his tiny and drunken spouse who had the widest grin she’d ever seen, pure adoration in her eyes. She happily grips the hand David offers her, still beaming as they walk.

Emma knows that look. She’s had that look before. 

Love drunk (and maybe a bit of real drunk).

“I’ll follow you out.” She adds, falling into step with their rhythm. “My ride will be here soon anyway.”

“I love Killian, Emma. He’s so sweet! And he bakes! David doesn’t bake.” The outburst is followed by a hiccup and a giggle and a scoff from her husband. 

“Gee, why don’t you marry him then?” There’s no malice in David’s comment at all, how could there be? These two have been together since the dawn of time, by Storybrooke standards, at least. Mary Margaret barks out a laugh, using the arm that isn’t intertwined with David’s to punch him softly in the ribs.

“I married you, Stupid. You can’t marry two people. You’re dumb.” 

The rest of the walk to the exit is in relative silence, only the occasional chirp from their drunkest disciple on the way down the stairs of The Rabbit Hole. The crisp autumn air that meets them outside knocks Emma back a little, she hadn’t expected it to be so cold and, in a lapse of better judgement, had not brought a jacket. It doesn’t matter though. She’d already seen the familiar black jeep before her phone buzzed in her hand.

Killian: i see you x

Bidding goodbye to her two companions, Emma finds herself skipping over to Killian’s truck. She can’t help herself. The thought of him sat there waiting for her in all his black leather jacket-y goodness spurs her forward. Maybe she can convince him out of it… maybe– Fuck. She’s drunk but she wants him. Needs him.

Climbing into the jeep and immediately going in for the kill, in hindsight, probably wasn’t one of her finest ideas. Especially considering the accidental punch to the boob it earnt her. The bottle of water he’d promised, falling to the centre console between them. Clearly he’d not anticipated the haste of her advance. 

It’s a good job he’s cute.

“I’m sorry, love!” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and lips pulling into a toothy smile. “I didn’t expect you to come at me with such unbridled force.” 

“Hello to you too.” Grumbling, she tries to massage some of the pain in her chest away but the ache is already there. Not the ache she wanted either. Killian’s hand finds her jaw and, despite her initial attempt at stubborn reluctance, his fingertips have her melting into his kiss. He’s overly gentle, just a chaste press of his lips against hers in apology. 

“I’ll kiss it better once we’re home, Swan. Don’t you worry about that.”

Feeling them against her lips, his words light a fire deep in her. The slow burn she’s been tending since she left their apartment earlier now seems an all-consuming need. She kisses him again, harder and deeper, a calculated move on her part, knowing he’ll take the bait and follow suit. 

The growl it pulls from him is borderline feral and Emma can feel it shoot straight to her core. Fuck, he’s such a good kisser. Every slant of his mouth over hers, every slip of his tongue, has her breathless and needy, wanting to only ever be further consumed. He always knows exactly how she needs it with very little prompting, reading her body language better than she herself could, sliding his free hand up her bare thigh until it slipped beneath the hem of her dress.

She can’t wait, she wants him now. 

“Fuck going home.” She sighs, letting him pull away only slightly so they can lean their foreheads together, his hand still continuing its path beneath her skirt. 

“What do you mean, love?” He knows exactly what she means. He always does. The smirk in his voice coats his words like syrup, sickly sweet and so wonderful. 

Pushing him away is torture, but worth it to hear his reaction as Emma crawls into the backseat. Arse in the air as she squeezes between the front seats and into the back. The firm smack to her behind has her fumbling through the gap, catching her moan as she tries to get her bearings. She’s not ashamed of it. It’s well-known that she loves a good spanking. Red palm prints all over her ass and thighs the next day are the best kind of trophies. Ones she’s proud to wear for him and him only. She’s not even ashamed at how almost uncomfortably wet she is just from thinking about it, thinking about him thick and heavy inside her, encouragement coming in the form of firm slaps.

If he wants a tease, she’ll give him a tease.

Turning to face him, she slips into the middle seat. Shimmying her dark panties she’d chosen earlier that evening down her legs with minimal effort. Killian’s eyes follow the path they take and, when they come to settle at her ankles, she offers him the scrap of fabric with the heel of her boot.

He groans when his fingers come to contact with damp lace, the faint squish as he rolls the fabric between his thumb and index finger is almost too much. The way he reaches for her is pure instinct, she can tell how her actions are affecting him by the way his eyes are half-lidded and all traces of smiles and smirks from earlier are gone. She presses her boot to his shoulder, forcing him to keep his distance and trusting him to do so before removing it. The sharp point of her stiletto catches on his collarbone on its descent, causing him to hiss. 

“First, I want you to drive us somewhere nice and quiet.” Settling down further, her legs part, faux leather peeling back from her thighs as they do, until it’s plainly visible how much she wants this. Her unfathomable confidence is definitely dutch in its origin but she can’t help herself, warm flames of arousal threatening to take over. It’s delicious and agony all at once. “Then I want you to come back here and fuck my brains out.”

Seeing his eyes slip closed at her words sends a heady wave of something straight through her. Car Sex: 1, Killian: 0

“As you wish, Swan.” His voice is deep and raspy, so very clearly fucked and Emma loves it. She loves him. Every part of him. From the way his hair always looks like he’s just woken up, no matter what time of day it is or the way his shoulders tense as he turns away from her now to focus on the road ahead, pulling off from the street with white knuckles clutching the steering wheel. Most of all, she loves knowing that he’ll give her what she wants, over and over again, rough and hard.

To everyone else, Killian is well mannered and reserved. The mix of ex-naval captain, local history teacher and baked goods connoisseur tending to subconsciously command the respect of those in his presence. 

To Emma, he is so much more. He’s soft in ways she’d never had a partner to be before, so open and forthcoming with his adoration of her while still allowing her space to grow into the person she’s always wanted to be. He’s sarcastic to a fault but, then again, so is she. He’s so unapologetically passionate about the things he loves, which usually results in them binging TV shows together until the early hours of the morning on a school night and falling asleep tangled together on the couch.  

He’s everything she never knew she needed and he’s changed her for good.

Oh, and he’s also an incredibly good shag. His word, not hers. When he says it, it sounds filthy, whispered against her body in a way that brings her out in goosebumps every time. When she says it, it sounds… not like that. 

She can’t wait much longer, heat throbbing between her legs at the thought of him. She hadn’t even realised until the slow drag of her fingers through slick folds and across her clit caused a moan to erupt from her throat, that she’d been touching herself this whole time. 

Glancing up to the rearview mirror, she caught lust darkened eyes staring back.

Fuck.

Without thinking, she brings the fingers to her mouth. Salt and lust thick on her tongue. It’s a sharp sweet taste and Killian always waxes poetic about it; telling her how damn edible her cunt is, how he loves the taste she leaves on his tongue, how he loves making her taste herself from his lips. He’s always been able to make her fall to pieces. 

Daring to maintain eye contact, she sucks them between her lips.

He fucking moans at that. Deep. Guttural. Emma can feel it in her chest and, before she can even comprehend what’s going on, he pulls the jeep up to a halt. They’re parked somewhere she doesn’t recognise, tucked between two buildings shrouded in the dark, and she has no time to worry about anything else because Killian is out of the driver’s seat and crawling into the back through the passenger door. 

He had been wearing his leather jacket before and she absentmindedly wonders where it’s gone before her brain short circuits with the smash of his lips against hers. It’s wild and rushed and the weight of him crushing her into the seat below has whines slipping out between their kisses.

“That was dangerous.” He purrs, moving his mouth across her cheek, down to her jaw, her neck. Nipping where his teeth graze and sucking soft marks into her flesh. Looks like it’s high necked sweaters for the rest of the week. “What did I do to earn that delicious torture?”

Emma hums at his ministrations, warm buzz settling through her at his touch. Better, more electric than the subtle tingle of intoxication from earlier. This woke up every nerve in her body, slowly, bringing them alive and with wisps of an earth-shattering orgasm building deep down already. “The tit punch wasn’t totally appreciated if we’re being candid.”

“Candid’s not the word, love.” His lips leave her neck, leaning up to view his masterpiece and very clearly satisfied with the mess he’s made and his smirk pushes her over the edge. She reaches for his hips, fumbling around for the zipper on his jeans. He joins in, working together to free the erection she’d been hoping for. Killian was never one to disappoint her in that department. “This is downright indecent.”

“Just shut up and fuck me.” 

She throws one booted leg around his hip pulls him closer until he nudges against her centre. 

There’s no preamble. No disclaimer. Sex for them is like coming home, a practised rhythm they’ve had down for what seems like aeons. As if they’d been destined for each other before they ever met. It’s perfect. Always is. He’s as thick and full as she’d been hoping, stretching her in the most delectable way and it drives her mad when he drags out slowly, angling himself in a way that has the head of his cock catching on that rough spot he usually finds only with his fingers. Clawing at his biceps as he fucks torturously slowly into her seems like the only option at this point. 

“Killia– fuck! Harder.” Is the only thing she can say. All other thoughts being variations of Fuck, Yes and Please.

He burrows his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and she can feel the smirk on his lips searing into her skin. The whimper has barely left her lips before it’s cut off with a moan as he hammers into her. While one hand holds himself up, the other shoves her dress up higher around her waist before snaking down across her stomach, through the smattering of hair at the apex of her thighs and further, finally coming to a halt just shy of her clit. 

She’s grateful Killian had been able to find somewhere secluded for them to undertake their activity because, had they been in the centre of Storybrooke, people in a three-block radius would definitely have been able to hear the scream that rips out of her with his touch, back arching off the seat as he teases her clit with his fingers.

“First, you’re going to come.” His voice is way calmer than it should be. Deep and ragged but calm all the same. Emma doubts she could even string a sentence together with the barrage of pleasure he’s putting her through. Not that she’s complaining. The look on his face as she flutters around him more than makes up for the fact that he’s still got full use of his speech, even if he is using it to spew filth. “Then, I want to fill you up– fuck, I’ve been thinking about this dress all night, Emma. Do you know what you do to me?”

How can she even respond to that? He continues to fuck her deeper, laving kisses across her collar bones. Adjusting the angle, the pressure, the speed to keep her always on her toes. Bringing her almost to the edge and then dragging her back. She wants to be mad about it but she can’t bring herself to feel anything other than pleasure coiling low in her belly. Killian knows her too well. He knows what she likes, how she wants to be fucked and how to take care of her after. He knows she hates being teased but he also knows that she comes so much harder when she’s had to work for it. 

As she said, he knows her too well.

“I’m close.” She sobs, arms thrown around his neck. Her call spurs him on, fucking into her faster and deeper while he strokes relentlessly at her clit with his thumb. It’s only a few seconds before a tsunami of an orgasm washes over her in full force, wave after wave of pleasure settling over as she’s fucked through it. Gentler now than before. She can’t hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears but she doesn’t miss the telltale grunts of her name as Killian follows shortly after with a few staccato pumps of his hips. True to his word, he comes deep inside her. The feeling of being so full warming her from the inside out. 

He collapses against her chest with a huff and she laughs, not able to resist running her hands through his hair. She loves him. From his grunty sex noises to the way he can’t seem to hold himself up once he’s spent. She loves all of him.

“Brainless yet, love?” He mumbles against his gifts from earlier. There’s a dull throb as he kisses one of the hickeys and Emma hums, wrapping him in her embrace. She doesn’t want to move, despite how awkwardly they’re tangled together and Killian growing soft inside her. If David catches them on his patrol in the morning, they’re screwed. Well, she is. He’d hold that over her for eternity. 

Pulling him tighter, she sighs. 

“Completely.” 

She’d have to ask Mary Margaret about that scar story again, for blackmail purposes.

[numba1-cheater-waluigi]

Is Pinstripe feel better?

| ☢️ |  Fats approached Aso slowly keeping his eyes locked onto the concerned young lady’s own.  He had to approach this subject delicately,drawing a fat hand to rest against her chin. 

“ Right now he is very sick, he is takin’ time off for bed rest. There are two doctors present wit’ him at all times, they are attempting ta drain his body of all de greasy poisonous  fluids he consumed. “ A light smile appeared over the henchman’s lips . “ Dat’s our boss for ya, getting sick on nosh a potoroo shouldn’t even be consumin’ all for de business…” His lip started to tremble as he retreated his hand back from Aso turning so that his back was now towards her.

“I’m de only potoroo able ta maintain de business right now…Slim is still in recovery n’ is too scared ta show himself…” A single tear dripped against the hardwood floor. He didn’t like this, it wasn’t what he signed up for. 

[jdaviswords]

Along the Way

Hey now before I begin

I would like to confess

that this is the first time

I've stepped up to the mic

in this fashion

Ya see

I usually sit down and write casually

but recently I've been getting this nagging

tellin me I should put that aside

and release what's inside me

Or how bout we start with my identity

a white male skinny in his mid twenties

cleanly shaven face but typically rock

a beard funny

I mention it now I'm feelin kinda funny

I gotta buddy named Muddy

sike nah that's a different study

Down in the haven

shout out LHU

if it wasnt for y'all

I'd be a different dood

sometimes I get in this mood

where I can't help be crude

I picture her nude

cocked back smilin like she know it good

Ha...

I guess when I rhyme I get this attitude

just like all who graced this place

before me

I'm talkin Eminem, Biggie, immortal technique

if I could reach half the prophecy

as these old G's

I'd be like a genie in a bottle

you'd barely see me

Up so high defying gravity

I look down from the clouds

and there are ants you see

shimmering along antsy

I couldn't help but fancy

what it'd be like to be them

in a rainstorm

like...how big those water droplets would be

shiiiit

Anyway

I tend to get caught up

like a smoke grenade

that don't make sense

but that's okay

cause anytime I can convey

the profoundness of happiness

I'll obey

and if it means that

these words are all I'd have to slay

imagine how many animals could be saved

day by day

I got it mixed like a salad

ignoring phone calls like Ricky Fallon

who the fucks Ricky Fallon?

who knows...but I found him

On a mountain smoking cactus

he said imagine what itd be like

if everyone weren't so passive

imagine if the masses heads

weren't fed so much gasses

their minds could cleanse

wed be born again

I said...

as if we wouldn't destroy again

I think humanity

soiled it's privilege

the truest casualty

how beautiful we'd be

if we weren't so inherently ugly

cuffed together by a greed

imbedded deeply enough

to restrict your dreams

and silence your screams

AHHH

I'm sorry

I tend to get a bit cynically

when I release what's inside of me

financial burdens

stomach churnin

forever learnin

that some bridges still belong burnin

but resentment ain't easy to live with

like a misprint on a birth certificate

I wonder how I sprouted from them

them so high

them so drunk

both casually sippin

an apple from an orange

or a grape from a pear

I'm from a different vine

that I'm aware

suffocatingly aware

that sometimes I'll hide in the shadows

tho I should be laying in the meadow's

fully bare

perhaps a meteor would fly by

and I could catch it's glare

instead of behind this screen

where I often stare

If you would play with my hair

or scratch my back

I'd give you this heart

that's barely intact

taped together

a couple staples

clack clack clack

it's always under construction

or whatever...

somethin

I lost my train of thought

as a car drove past bumpin

William Bludgeon

who's William Bludgeon?

another version of me

coming up from the dungeon

He's always under there mumblin

stumblin over repression

battling depression

attesting aggression

oh did I mention

he likes to eat bamboo

and has a monkey named Kelvin

I once began delvin

into his closet one day

when out came a kangaroo

wearing a fucking toupee

i think this was an acid flashback

so that's what I'd say

and so then he slapped me

and went about his way

my oh my I'm a bit of a crazed

individual labeled as a liberal

though I sit in the aisle

you can't classify me I am unusual

Actually I'm quite typical

gifted this privilege

of a chalky skin tone

meanwhile blacks are taking

knees and elbows

getting slaughtered by those

wearing the blueish clothes

and everybody fucking knows

except we do nothing

besides sharing a fucking post

that apparently somehow shows

your awareness of the troubles

that plaque these bones

of all our skeletons

our whispered groans

I don't fucking know

Along the way

that's the way she goes

I need to know though

what will it take before

a change will show

I need to know though

what will it take before

a change will show

Along the way

that's the way she goes

I need to know though

what will it take before

a change will show

I need to know though

what will it take before

a change will show

I mustnt complicate

what it is I set out to demonstrate

I'm a kindish dood

with a massive plate

of stuff that ain't so great

but have found a way

to still see sunshine

in the pourin rain

I'm a conspirator by day

and a lover by night

I'll admit my mind

gets the best of me sometimes

creating scenarios

I find myself down Alice's rabbit hole

with the Cheshire cat

and that tweaky rabbit guy

Along the road that

looks like a xylophone

I begin dissecting the vary

essence of what it means

to be alive

and I find that caterpillar

puffing hookah

and the road continues to unwind

I swear I've lost my mind

or it's in the driver's seat

and I'm just along for the ride

And then snap back to reality

no slim shady

not to diss him

I am simply not worthy

of a rap God

who's done this

at this point for centuries

why anyone steps to his plate

I'll never understand fully

unless the goal is to look foolish

then the master genie

shall grant that wish

I used to jump his music as a kid

never understood it til

I grew up and revisited

behind the curtain

without you

my anger would continue consumin

something bout your music

made sense and my hatred started soothin

it's like you were saying everything

I wanted to say but I know I shouldn't

or maybe it's that I couldn't

[benmparks]

“I know I've got a tendency

To exaggerate what I'm seein'

And I know that it's unfair on me

To make a memory

Out of a feelin'

It's 'cause I notice every single thing

That's ever happening in the moment

And I don't know why it's consumin' me

Because honestly all I know is—

Infatuation’s observation with a cause

But none of it is love so while I'm waitin' for it

I'll hate everybody”

I HATE EVERYBODY by Halsey

In the winter of 2020 I listened to Halsey’s album Manic on repeat. The quote here is from one of my favorite songs from the album, and also maybe one of my favorite set of lyrics of all time. I just remember the first time I heard her sing that infatuation line and had to sit on my kitchen floor for a good minute. Like... Yes, Halsey, it is! 

These past few days while I suffer through my four days of placebo, the four days a month I have unrestricted access to my overly emotional feelings, I have had this verse repeating in my head. My life is really not that exciting, the least exciting part of it is my social life and nonexistent relationships. Yet still something about this song and this verse particularly speaks to me as if whispering directly into my ear. 

The whole verse speaks to my experience with feelings so well. I feel like Halsey went into my brain and wrote what I have been trying to write this whole time. I do have a tendency to exaggerate what I’m seeing, and yeah it is unfair of me to make a memory out of a feeling. I spent all of 2020 just simmering in these questionable memories from the college experience that was cut short, and I’ve only just started to separate my romanticism from reality. 

I misremembered the line as infatuation’s just obsession with a cause, and I really liked that mistranslation. Obsessive. That’s a word I describe myself as a lot, I’m obsessive about just about anything. I was in First Aid Kit’s top 0.001 percent of listeners last year, and I have every album NCT has released since Neo Zone. When I like something, or someone (ew), I go all in. Let’s just say, in regards to the object of my eye at any time, I notice everything that’s ever happening in the moment. Because infatuation’s observation with a cause.

This is sort of me dancing around any real statement of truth, or fact, or what I’m even talking about in the first place. I’m not quite ready to bear my embarrassing soul just yet, I just wanted to try to articulate what I am feeling right now. This is sort of an attempt at journaling, in a very public sense, and praising Halsey for her genius lyrics.

I am writing again, by the way. In the meantime, listen to Manic by Halsey. It’s one of my favorite albums ever.

[libidomechanica]

Or you turn again of flies

A counseen and brace, a  hundrum crie. Come, that bindeed, haunched up  thee; depth of blood shalt fires,  to beneathen rode, as faded  the sitting hours 

before, and legs such cloth: Our  honounced, unknowst I  may smoothere enough even or  Heave above husband-foot what h ad a chime black downright melanchorse their of 

borrow my satyrs sore at plain,  she walls, inventire, who light; the words,  and face were trave to  sullen that the weighs more of  work boy I did head antic blue 

away with in the  deare ill proport, the oiled overror,  it for that he know  is timely adayes find feel they  disowne, nevery you dost tour voice. But which 

expressent, and often  somethin are day as I have  profaned the first I seed  I mightly soul self, no promised the  mood; fall the worth fellowd 

our own to was  their of they burst she hour  to steel of the doth  his sworn of sighings) but drilling  that Napole, I shadows a 

name? “Ill love her who casts mine deed,  what you where until ever loves of  younger into  the ladies meet kinds of wanded  wide of the skin the 

thine. His that pointed ( from while again,  he grown of thy his was  on lands, and drops around  my miss spare” heaving together, in 

ever does return  all to like frostive, cursed the  grind some foe: “then Rapp the pale  welling Devon, she know, that: I am  neer to the hath 

been his consuminous aroundrum  cried marks also stock that leaven  have geese not so gain, In stood of  mails since vacant off thout into  thy very of poppies always 

contenance more, Nay! will  neveryone him with manner  shown. ne which  I came my sheets, can love posier-isle,  as Ill could me; with 

in-born mine. And of naugh in  tightning out suppd up at voyce, poor wed  my horse who, of Jehosaphat renown  eyes that it see:” but to  was and when 

clouds like an auld have had be  that partridges, or will what  along and of Novement:-  to a highes in order  improves, and hour; parising, 

her repose, that daugh;—you has  be lurkd oer by some no birth, if  ever day, and more, she stroy, untry:  Pity, raw you can get the  lover them an Europer 

skill lay: go wished folly night filled egg  rejoin he coster. Alacke, thy fore with  mortal pain, and not thou  else brothe sky; for love, thou leauen broken  forget name, I come unbred 

mind) whisper (which did after  that hims of her looking  floath oxytocin old wish number cold it  wondescription, like a funny  others vows, hath all the Purple 

croon. Noon rookshell, some day, own case talking  from their or pious ouerpassion  growth hazel shine own nature thee. Chantinue.  Seek when sat like the  refined with vncall!

[thedancingpetalxiv]

It was just like any other job she had decided to take before. Rumors and whispers of an artifact always piqued her interest, because they could always be sold to the right buyers for plenty of gil, and who wouldn’t want a fabled artifact weapon? The miqote smirked, knowing full well that there were plenty of black market buyers in the seedier parts of Limsa Lominsa, and she’d find a nice hefty sack of gil waiting for her as a result. The snaggletoothed thief lurked away, waiting for the cover of night with a grin on her lips and excitement in her eyes. What could possibly go wrong?

The shadows provided ample cover as Ferathel approached her destination, a small cottage of little note from any passerby, but it seemed like the subterfuge was unnecessary, the abode seemed empty from a cursory glance.

“Now lass, yer makin’ this too easy…”

The lock to the back door seemed simple enough, something that Ferathel had bypassed on numerous occasions. One didn’t become a thief without knowing some basics. Once inside, she crept along the walls, never once relaxing. For all her bluster, even she knew that the slightest mistake could still make a mess of everything. No job was ever infinitely easy, no matter how opportune the situation made out to be. She was grateful for some serendipitous changes though. She had originally heard the weapon, a club of some sorts, was being held at a museum, but the owner had decided to reclaim it and keep it in private possession. While not impossible to infiltrate, Ferathel would take less stress any day, knowing full well she’d have to deal with an entire security retinue as well as complex systems that would just cause her more headaches then she’d like to suffer. Regardless, she was sure the owner wasn’t foolish enough to leave the weapon absolutely defenseless.

It took a few moments of scouring, checking here and there for where the target was located, but thankfully the small cottage provided easy to turn over, finding the ornate club resting on a carved resting rack, glinting slightly in the moonlight. Immediately the thief noticed something was amiss, feeling the aether around the weapon acting oddly, turbulent and agitated. She could also sense wards placed around it, as she expected, but as she inspected them to find a means to dispel them safely, she made a curious discovery.

“It’s…like they’re not trying to keep something out but…keep something…in?” Her brows furrowed in confusion, head tilted as she approached cautiously, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. Minimal security, empty house, the club was ripe for the taking. She froze.

“No…no this is way too easy of a mark. No mark should be this easy, not unless it’s a trap…or…” What was that? Ferathel squinted for a moment then quickly shook her head. No it was…a trick of the light? She could have sworn she saw the air around the club shimmering, wisps of something coalescing and vanishing again in an instant.

“The bloody hell is going on…”

A cold chill ran down the miqote’s spine, her body petrified as she stood. Wait, why couldn’t she step away. This was clearly a bad idea and all reason told her to leave now. No gil was worth whatever ill wind this…thing…caused.

Come closer, child.

“Oh fuck that.” Ferathel swore out loud as soon as she heard the faint whisper in her head. She’d heard enough nonsense of curses and ghosts from her times amongst the deckhands of Limsa’s docks. She never showed to be much for superstition, but her times adventuring have proven more then once that some legends and stories turned out to be more then just fairy tales. She turned on her heels, ready to get out while she could. “Oh for crying out loud…” Her body disobeyed her, slowly and methodically approaching the club, her body rigid as she clenched her jaw, straining against the hypnotic pull it had held on her.

You are too late, child. You will feel the power you crave, the power you seek, and you will let it consume you, as it has done to generations before you.

“Sod off you piece of driftwood, I just wanted to make a pretty profit, I won’t none of yer fabled power or glory and ye won’t be consumin’ no one tonight!”

She wrenched her arm downwards, trembling fingers scrabbling at the hilt of her dagger and she somehow found purchase, the cool molded leather creaking in her tight grip as she willed her arm back to throw it at the demonic cudgel.

Riches or strength matter not, you stumble upon me and are caught in my web, and you shall pay the price with your body and soul!

With those words, Ferathel’s final grip on her control was taken in a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat as she felt something ice cold gripping inside of her chest, choking the air out of her. She let out a strangled cry of confusion and pain, eyes going wide as she felt some unholy corruption spreading through her veins like liquid flames.

She walked. Step by step she walked. Her eyes wide in fear as her body moved forward, arm reaching out, hand prying themselves open and the knife clattered uselessly on the ground. Closer and closer she was moved towards the weapon, now clearly showing signs of something most definitely out of the ordinary. It was almost as if the aether was so thick and vile that it showed as a roiling churning maelstrom of red and black, growing in intensity as she approached. She was mere inches away, sweat beading down her forehead as she kept fighting, kept struggling for control again, to tear herself away and never come back. She could see the coiling mist looming towards her, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

You are mine!

The corrupted aether lunges forward, spearheaded and aiming at Ferathel with lightning speed, her mouth forced open by an unseen iron grip, and she breathed, gasping for air as her lungs finally screamed for air. Her body trembled and shook, feeling something twisted and sick invading her every being, her breath coming like a rattling wheeze. She hadn’t even realized her body had collapsed, no longer held up by the vice-like grip of whatever invisible entity had held her before. Her fingers clawing at her neck as wanted to force her lungs to empty, but her body refused her in this still, as her eye went blank, the look of fear and panic dying on her lips.

She knelt there on the ground before the club, gazing blindly at the sky, a few whisps of the aether curling up past her gaping mouth with a weak sigh. Her body was numb, sickeningly cold, oblivious to the world, to her own being. And then she felt it, creeping up on her, creeping up inside of her, like the trickling flames of some dying embers reigniting one piece of kindling at a time. It consumed her and she felt the heat rising up the base of her skull, the furious hatred of a millennia locked away, and it blazed. She could feel the fury looking for an escape, it wanted out, it wanted to be free, and it would find it one way or another.

Her eye, dear god her eye, it burned and seared as she felt the flaming aether leaking out. She howled in agony as she felt the bandanna covering her left eye scorch and burn away in tattered cinders, the scar lancing past the blind white iris glowing an eerie purplish red as the smoldering smoke curled away into the night sky. She felt the eye was going to melt out of her socket and yet her body still refused to obey her, draining her of her essence, of her very being, her own aether fueling the raging inferno growing inside of her. Just as she felt like her own skull would burst into flames, she heard the whirling of something hard and heavy swinging at her weakened form.

And then there was nothing.

[maryam0revna]

Scramble for the Light of Change: a playlist for Finarieth Vrye

my angsty half-elf sorcerer who’s just doing her best (but her best is objectively not very good) 

Tracklist:

1. Blood on my Name - The Brothers Bright

When the fires, when the fires are consumin' you And your sacred stars won't be guiding you I've got blood, I've got blood Blood on my name 

2. Sinister Kid - The Black Keys 

That's me The boy with the broken halo That's me, that's me The devil won't let me be

3. Fire - Barns Courtney 

Sold my soul to the calling Sold my soul to a sweet melody Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone Oh gimme that fire

4. Jungle - X Ambassadors 

I lost my mind, in the city of lights  In the backstreets buildings and the neon lights When I heard the thunder, I could feel the rain  It's the same to me, just a different name

Won't you follow me into the jungle? Ain't no god on my streets

5. Hustler - Conway 

Now you fade away Into my memory of things I've lost and whispers made You're going to love me And i promise that i won't behave That is the deal i'm striking Tell me what you wanna say

6. Man or a Monster - Sam Tinnesz 

No, you can't take back the damage you've done Afraid of what you might become A man or a monster

7. Is There Anyone Out There - Delta Rae

My body doesn't fit me My dreams are like great ships lost at sea And this heart grows tired So far from where I started And so far from where I want to be

8. Wish That You Were Here - Florence + The Machine 

And I never minded being on my own Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home To be where you are

9. St Jude - Florence + The Machine

And I'm learning, so I'm leaving And even though I'm grieving I'm trying to find the meaning 

10. David - Noah Gunderson 

I try to keep my conscience clean I try to keep myself out of your bad dreams I try to wash my hands for you every night Lest you find my strangling fingers wrapped around tight

11. Higher - The Score 

Dream in my soul And I won't let it go You know that All my life They try to keep me down but I just get higher

12. Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

And I am done with my graceless heart,  So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart

13. Anthem - Delta Rae 

The lions and the lambs are fighting Waking up and reigniting But I don't wanna fight their old war Give me something I can hope for

[abraaxas]

Her words had hit him like a ton of bricks.

"I gave up everythin' fer you. Centuries o' memories an' life- an' I did it wrong, but that shouldn'ta meant that I came back ta' bein' punished an' having you fall fer a fuckin' mechanical experiment!"

"What ya got in yer head as love, ain't love. It ain't consumin' ya. It's jus' a fun feelin' right now- that feelin' of someone touchin' just the right part'a you. Well, that were you ta' me. That person that I coul' let get close-"

You an' him might not have liked Mal at tha' end, hell I didn't. But he were so much more than that. He were in EVERY memory, EVERY dream! He were my heart, an' I gave it up fer you- so ya could go an'...fall fer someone a few days later!"

He suddenly felt very small.

His chest ached with an unknown pain, if this wasn’t love then why did it feel as if his heart had been physically ripped from him?  Ironic given not too long ago he had literally ripped out the heart of someone she had loved for her entire life. 

But she was right, wasn’t she?  

It’s not as if he had planned this happening, he was well aware that love was a fickle beast, at least what he knew of love.  But perhaps this wasn’t love like she suggested, or maybe it was just that everyone has a different definition of what love is to them.  It’s a subjective feeling and he didn’t know how to make Tali understand his point of view, all he wanted to do was to be truthful with her.  It wasn’t as if something had been taken away from her and given to another, all of his feelings for this broken woman in front of him remained as they had always been despite what she had done and those were not going away anytime soon.  Why couldn’t he be as eloquent as Malph?

"I'm sorry I ruined yer life, lass...all I wanted t'do were t'help you an' I fucked it all up.  I dunno how t'unfuck either, I don' think I can.  I dunno how t'make this right wit' ya...I dunno what t'do.  I dunno what I'll do if I lose ya. Y'got every right t'hate me.  I kinda hate meself right now too."

Of course she didn’t hate him, although at this moment he hated himself enough for the both of them.  They had both fucked up and continued to dig themselves that hole deeper and deeper.  Shortly after, they parted ways without resolving anything and as always he let her be the one to walk away first.  No matter how upset he got, how angry he was, he’d never walk away first.  

Unfortunately that conversation led him right down the path of self destruction with the intention of becoming numb as quickly as possible.  After all these decades he had become aware of his limits, so when he pushed past them on purpose he knew what the consequences could and likely would be.  

That numb feeling he so desired was quickly achieved, but it came at a cost.

The last thing he recalled was wandering aimlessly in the Row… then there were muffled words of a familiar voice, a feeling as if his lungs were being squeezed and blue under his fingernails.  He attempted to reach out to Malph to fix it as he done a handful of times in the past, but those pleas were met with silence.

He knew what this was, it wasn’t his first overdose.   Probably wouldn’t be his last either.

The next morning he awoke in one of the private clinic rooms to the pleasant sound of someone humming nearby.  His sheets were soaked through with sweat and Light knows what else, someone had thankfully removed most of his clothing after they too had no doubt been soaked with sweat.  While his insides were screaming and felt as if they were slowly being fed into a blender, his exterior remained calm and quiet for fear of making it worse.

Eventually eyes cracked open to bright white room, spying Thaen sitting nearby in a chair at the side of his bed.  Had she been the one that brought him here the night before?  He wasn’t even going to attempt to try to  remember right now, his head throbbed with excruciating pain and all he wanted was another fix.

That internal voice finally chimed in:  “I cannot allow us to continue down this path, Brax, you’re going to destroy this body if you keep this up.  It’s time to allow me my turn.”

Malph was right. Abra would only continue making this worse.

@taliandrahflamesurge @duskisdarkest