#take care :3c ♥

[cherry-207]

After the sleepover

This is a birthday gift from @sysig hope you like it ♥♥♥ .

Scriabin belongs to @zarla-s

[lorelune]

bathtime

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 5.1k  || ao3 || previous + next ->

Even the best bath water will find it difficult to cleanse 'sin'.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c welcome to part 3 of the architect-verse :3cc been cooking on this one for awhile 🙏 yandere blade is such a guy and scummy manipulative mommy kafka is so fun to write :3ccc thank you for beloved @ofmermaidstories for doing a read through on this one 🥺♥!! enjoy enjoy enjoy 💓

CW: dark content, yandere blade, captive/pet reader, discussions of noncon, references to past noncon on blade while he was underage and as an adult, references to past noncon on reader, use of the word rape, violence/thoughts of violence, past yingxing/dan feng, toxic blade/kafka

It’s normal for Blade to return to the Stellaron Hunters’ main vessel covered in assorted types of gore. Scraps of rent flesh, smears of blood, bile, scales— tendons and sinew wrapped under his forearms, clinging from the pressure of impact light-years away. The smell of it clings to him, still fresh, just barely beginning to rot. He stews in it during his typical return in small, covert starships. He half-suffocates with the stench of death.  

This is typical. Blade does not carry any opinion about it. If anything, he welcomes the potential of asphyxiation, though it never comes. 

Most routinely, Kafka will greet him as he returns and take him to clean up. Occasionally, when she is indisposed, Silver Wolf will be forced to hose him down in the communal gym shower or Sam will dunk him in the bath by the scruff of his neck. Blade does not... particularly enjoy the latter two options. Though he isn't sure entirely why, and he doesn't tend to dwell on it either. 

When Kafka collects him, it is easier, if nothing else. Less fuss, less grimacing over the smell of burgeoning rot and complaining that Blade should do this prior to arriving home. Blade doesn't care about the other Stellaron Hunters’ complaints, not really, but it does make the ordeal longer than it needs to be. 

(And maybe, maybe, he does not like being drenched in bone-chilling water and soaked clothing. He hates it.) 

Kafka will lead Blade back to her own room, strip him, and give him a warm bath. Frequently, she’ll take off her own clothing and join him. She’ll hold him close, his back to her front. Kafka likes when she is able to cow him into resting against her front, cow him into resting his cheek against her breasts while she scrubs away the worst of the grime. 

Never mind that they share the same, red-tinged bathwater. 

(Occasionally, things escalate. Touch that volleys between innocent and clinical and sexual. Kafka will stroke down the planes of his body, reach for his cock, and bring him to release. It’s— it's nice. He thinks. He can't tell.) 

It's hard to tell anything in the steam of the bath. Though Kafka's presence renders his mara mute, proximity makes it writhe regardless. It is not a soundless beast, though it loses its words. Muddy feelings, rather than anything clear cut. It's a reprieve regardless. 

This is why Blade prefers to be cleaned by Kafka. 

... 

This mission, however, Blade receives a text from Kafka during his return journey that she will be out. Along with Silver Wolf. And that Sam is charging and shouldn't be disturbed.  

However— 

Kafka: 

why don't you see if our little stray is up for a bath, bladie? 

There's a thought. One Blade hadn't considered. 

(There's a whisper of a refusal in the back of his mind. 'No'. Blade is not sure why. It is quiet but sure of itself.) 

Blade: 

When will you be back. 

Kafka: 

tomorrow. don't wait up until then. listen, just ask. 

Kafka's mind weaving does not work over text. But it is, regardless, difficult to resist her command. This is habit. 

Blade idles outside of your room. He has dripped mess across the vessel and left little piles of flesh and muscle in his wake. The quiet sound of blood splattering against the floor (his, maybe, though his regeneration should be almost complete) makes him aware of this. 

It feels uncouth to enter your room like this. 

Blade shakes himself off and leaks scarlet droplets against the metal paneling. methodically, he releases the five locks on your door. Each clicks when fully disarmed, and by the time Blade enters, you're already looking up at the door, eyes wide. 

You're tucked into bed with a soft blanket over your lap. A tablet (a gift from silver wolf at Kafka's behest. For 'good behavior'. Not connected to any internet, but you've told Blade it helps pass the time.) 

The device is promptly forgotten as you push yourself out of bed, "Aeons, Blade, what happened? Are you hurt?" 

You approach him with no caution. It's reckless. It's foolish, especially with this much adrenaline tumbling around between his eyes and in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shove you away and into the floor. Compress you until you break and bleed and bleed and break. 

Blade does not. 

Instead, he lets you flit around him. He lets you draw your own conclusions. 

You are not foolish. You know he is dangerous; he knows you know this. It is your... good nature that creases the surely-soft skin between your brows. It's your kindness that has you frazzled, shaking in your hands as you hover over him. Searching for wounds that are mostly healed. 

"Blade, I said, are you hurt?" You ask, voice strained, bent at the waist while examining a slice in his pants. A lance had torn his calve wide open. It has already healed. 

"I'm fine." 

"Sure." You don't sound convinced, frowning. "You look like shit. Am I really supposed to believe that?" 

"I have already healed. my injuries are no longer a concern." 

"... Really?" 

"I am an abomination of Yaoshi. This is my nature." 

You already know this, yet you look defeated. Your jaw is tight. "Uh-huh. Alright. Fuck, do you feel alright?" 

"I'm fine. I need to be clean." 

"... Alright?" 

"I need to bathe." 

"... I see that... Do you want me to call Kafka?" 

"She's off ship." 

"Oh, fuck." you curse and shake your head. "I-is she going to be back soon?" 

"No. Help me instead." 

"M-me?" Your voice trembles and you take a fearful step back. Ever the skittish thing. something in him— sort of him— vibrates. 

"Yes." 

"Can you— not?" 

"It's cumbersome to wash on my own." 

"I see." You run a hand over your cheeks and adjust the wide collar of your shirt. It’s too big. It’s one of his— probably? A sleep shirt. One that Kafka stole from him to give to you. He knows you own several. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Fuck, I-I can help." 

You shoo him into your bathroom. 

You turn away from him almost immediately, poking around in a cabinet, plucking brightly colored products and muttering under your breath. Kafka mentioned that isolation is getting to you more than you think. She thinks it's cute. 

Blade wordlessly begins to strip. First off is his blood-soaked overcoat, shredded around his ribs and with massive gouges taken out of the back. Then his undershirt. Followed by his pants. One of his belts rings a metallic clink as he undoes it. 

You choose this moment to turn around and your eyes go wide. 

"BLADE!" You cover your eyes, dropping a bottle. "What are you— you can't just do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Get... naked?" 

"You are going to help me bathe. This is necessary." 

"I understand that." You sound exasperated. Your voice is shaky. The tone is pulling something in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips almost want to curl upwards. "But you can't just strip without warning. Aeons, have some manners." 

Blade nearly laughs— good-naturedly. The urge to is something dormant and poisonous. Seldom used. Usually it's a sharp impulse, but it's almost warm now. Tepid and pleasant.  

(All for you.) 

You cover your eyes as you fumble to turn on the tap, "At least go rinse off a little in the shower first, please?" 

Doable, albeit difficult. Blade grunts something akin to an affirmative and finds your shower. He turns the water on (hot or cold doesn't seem... relevant) and steps in. The spray pours down from the ceiling, sending the worst of the gore down the drain. 

Blade does not move for quite some time.  

"Blade?" you ask warily. "You... done in there?" 

It takes him a moment to reply. The cold spray lags him, "Yes." 

"... Can you come out? The bath is ready." 

He idles, thinking about your question. The softness of your voice. The candle that he can smell, lit on the countertop. You yourself, dressed in soft lounge clothes and covered in scars that strangers gave you. He thinks about the way skin and muscle rend under his blade. The way yours could. Under him. Under— 

"Blade." 

You open the glass shower door, worry-eyed. 

He blinks at you. 

Gently, you grab his arm. He flinches with it. Has half a mind to slam you into the tile until you pop like an perfectly ripe fruit— 

But he doesn't. 

"C’mon, bath time," you coax him out, dripping, careful to not look down. It’s a preservation of modesty. It feels useless, Blade thinks, as he pulls away to clamor into the bath. 

... There are bubbles. Fragrant and herbal, with a soft oil shimmering on the top of the water. It is the perfect temperature. It feels... good. He forgets how nice warmth is. He softens. You heave out a sigh and settle next to him, outside the bath. There's a dampened washcloth, already in your hand. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?" You ask. 

"I don't care." 

"Give me a yes or a no,” you press him, glaring a little. You roll up your sleeves and rise to your knees. 

"Yes, then." He does not care. Do you not understand? 

(You probably don't. You definitely don't.) 

Your expression is unreadable as you dunk the rag into the bathwater and begin to wash him. First his right arm, then his left. Gently rubbing him down, taking extra care with his hands. The rag is gentle over his stiff fingers. You check under each of his nails individually. 

You’re meticulous. 

You ask a question or two about how he washes himself, specifically his hair, but Blade can't give you answers. Kafka stocks his bathroom. His bottles are numbered, and he never deviates from their preassigned order. It is easier that way. Even in Kafka’s tub, she tends to use the same order of expensive-looking products that she favors.  

The treatment you’re currently giving him is not routine.  

The ends of your sleeves dip into the water as you stretch over the tub, toward his legs. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, bitten in concentration. (It’s cute.) Blade feels... compelled to assist you. He raises his leg up at the knee. Just as carefully, you scrub him down, and then focus on his other leg.  

The experience fills him with a sense of unease.  

(It’s too tender.) 

(You treat him too delicately. Even Kafka acknowledges the damage he carries, and her touch is only gentle to punctuate a roughness later on. She toys with him— it’s a farce. The way you touch him is too kind. You are too kind for him. It reminds him— makes him feel the ghost of a touch from hands more delicate and powerful than your own. From a different lifetime, blotted by Mara, corrupted and molten in his mind—) 

“Blade—?” Your voice is shaking, shattering. You’re frozen at the side of the tub.  

Blade blinks. 

He has his hand wrapped around your wrist; his grip swallowing the fragile limb. The force of it is bruising. He holds it under the water, forcing you to lean over the tub. You are submerged up to your elbow. Your expression is pinched, afraid. Your pupils pinpricked.  

An animal snared. 

His grip tightens.  

“Let go, please.” You ask, lip wobbling.  

He does not want to let go. He really does not want to let go. Blade cannot trace the feeling, it’s miasmatic. It was a bad idea to have you assist in bathing him. Mara webs itself behind his eyes. His jaw locks and breathes hard through his nose. He wants to sink his teeth into your throat. 

“Please, stop,” You whine— whimper while tugging against his hold. You are half bent over the bath. Your eyes water, all shiny.  

The tone does something to him. Many people plead around him— for their life, mercy, favor. It’s useless. He does not care. He has no reason to care. There are scripts to follow. However— there’s no script here. Just the warm suds, the blood pumping through your veins, and Blade’s tunneling vision. 

With a sharp pull, he drags you into the bath. 

You fall in headfirst. Instantly, you clamor at the side of the tub and his submerged legs to get yourself back above water. You scramble. It’s— cute. Your hair is slicked down around your face and forehead, eyes wide as you pant. His legs bracket your body. He tightens his thighs around you.  

Your thin clothes are soaked and cling to you. Fabric over curves and folds over your flesh. Blade’s half-hard and feels bad about it. 

(He can’t trace why. It’s far from the first time he’s been physically aroused in relation to you. It always makes him feel bad. Not with Mara, but something personal and sour and less mad. He hates it. He’s almost torn out a rib over the feeling.) 

You hover, frozen, between his legs. The only sounds in the bathroom are your panting breaths and the drips rolling off your body, into the bathwater. You swallow, trembling, but remaining otherwise unmoving. It occurs to Blade after a few tense moments that you are waiting for him to strike.  

Always like a little, frightened animal.  

(Something in him writhes.) 

He moves quickly, shooting a hand out to fist into your hair. His grip is unyielding, giving you no slack (though, he doesn’t yank and pull as he could. He could tear out chunks if he wanted. He just doesn’t want you to move.) He wants you closer— maybe. He wants you far away, thrown through one of the ship's thick windows and into the vacuum of space and dead. 

(Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying for the void of space to kill you. He’d rather do it. He wants to do it, if you’re going to die.) 

You whine and paw at his wrists, babbling something.  

Blade feels disgusting as he drags your body to his, his chest to your back, and he curls over your form. His arms wind around your waist and squeeze. You scratch at him, beg maybe— he can’t tell, his ears are ringing. Your fists that slam into his shoulders and skull feel like swats from a declawed kitten. He doesn’t budge despite your protests.  

You stop fighting when you realize he isn’t hurting you. 

Blade doesn’t... want to hurt you. He thinks. Not really. Not in the way that Mara is screaming at him to. He isn’t content, you’re too warm and too alive to be this close to his body, but it's not bad. Contact both scratches an itch under his skin and aggravates a wound. It’s like a bath with Kafka, but worse— 

(Because part of him wants this.) 

Blade flinches when you go slack against him, chest heaving out breath. Even this little ‘scrap’ has tired you out. You’ve become weakened in your confined state— even if you really wanted to fight him, you don’t have the physical strength to be able to. 

You sniffle, covered in soaked clothes and soap suds. 

“Don’t cry.” Blade says without thinking. His voice is shot, dead-pan.  

Trembling, you shake your head, “I w-won’t.” 

It’s a lie. You’re already shaking in his arms. 

It’s— unfair. You’re most used to him, and less wary of him than Kafka. Part of him, a loud but small part of his mind, thinks that a bath together could be enjoyable— if he wasn’t washing blood and filth from his hair, and you weren’t shivering in your soaked day clothes. 

(‘This could be nice’, it urges.)  

His hands rub over your sides in small circles at the idea. 

You gasp and squirm, looking back at him with wild eyes, “Blade, please—” 

He stops, but his hold around your waist doesn’t waver. You sigh and lean back into his chest, deflating. Your eyes go half-lidded as you look toward the ceiling. They look— dull. Light and life drained. Like how they did when he and Kafka first collected you from that gilded planet. 

Blade knows that look— a dull mind and an active body. Your breath is still a bit too fast. Your heart is the same, running a prey-like rhythm. He assumes that you have left your body, gone elsewhere. 

“Hey.” He shakes you lightly, dragging you back to the cooling bath. “Help with my hair.” 

“... Hair?” You ask, voice soft and dreamy. “... Do you need me to wash it?” 

“Yes.” 

“... Okay.” You nod after a moment and rotate in his lap.  

Your shoulders sag forward as you fumble for shampoo and squirt a generous amount into your palm. Half of it misses and the gel sinks into the bathwater below.  

It’s unfair— part of him says again— he wants to tear it out and shred it between his teeth or under his blade. It screams that it's unfair that you dote on a creature like him. It’s unfair that you must shiver while lathering and rinsing his hair. That your pretty lips tremble with fear.  

The Mara writhes. He has not been human in so long. He does not deserve the gentleness you so often give him. Especially now, when he has dragged you closer, made you filthy with the stench of blood, and forced you so close. He wants to bite out your throat as you tip forward to grab a brightly colored bottle of oil and begin to work through the knots in his air. 

You are frowning. You are crying. 

He wants to eat you. 

Blade reaches for your chest, studying the way that the fabric clings to your skin-gone-gooseflesh. He finds the top button of your soft blouse in his own unsteady hands and undoes it. You freeze when he does, breath catching. 

You don’t breathe as he undoes another button.  

Then another. 

And another.  

You don’t breathe until the garment is nearly off. Just one button secures the fabric. He can see the peak of your breasts under the fabric, nipples pebbled in the cold. You’re so cold.  

(Blade wishes, dead Yingxing wishes, that he were warmer.) 

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, and in a small voice, you beg, “Please, d-don’t.” 

“You’re cold.” Blade says. He reaches past you, sloshing water, to turn on the spigot for hot water. “You will stay cold if you wear wet clothes.” 

You look at him strangely. At first, it’s wounded. Like you’ve been lanced through with Shard Sword, and now bear the gaping wound. It morphs to one of confusion, then you bite your lip. And grab his hands in your own and stare at them. 

“... That’s all?” You ask. 

“Mostly.” Blade replies. There’s— more. Far more. But nothing that is concrete enough, or important enough, to share with you. It would more than likely aggravate his spitting Mara.  

“Okay.” You reply, looking up from your joined hands. Your eyes are round and watery. “You’re not trying to rape me?” 

He freezes.  

The word ‘rape’ pulls something disgusting and festering up from Blade’s guts. Something he wants to purge. He has the distinct urge to lean over the side of the time and vomit, but he hasn’t eaten in the last forty-eight hours, so there’s nothing to heave up. So instead, he is still.  

It’s like he can feel the rot. He’s not sure why. He knows what the word means, he is pretty sure he has been raped. Probably. Either when he was a young child, a refugee fleeing a massacred world, or maybe when he was the bedmate to a dragon. Maybe, probably, from Kafka, any number of times. Maybe last week. His mind is cloudy.  

What constitutes rape is foggy.  

He knows it would mean that he wants to have sex with you, and you wouldn’t want to have sex with him. 

And Blade— 

(He— He— doesn’t want to have sex with you? Or he does. Maybe. He wants to be close to you, inside you. He wants to curl around you and make you swear to never leave. He wants— he wants so much. Blade is selfish. But—) 

Not like that, he doesn’t think. Others have been, he’s sure— he’s sure.  

Mara pours into his mind, and he remembers then. Pieces of times, fragments of old memories, of rape. Of violation of all kinds.  

(At the hands of borisins holding him down as he screamed and cried, his body too little to do any fighting in the jaws of an Abundance beast.) 

(A tradesman who allowed him to stowaway on a cargo ship, destined for the Luofu. ‘Payment’ — the man had called it. For safe passage and a little sack of rice.) 

(Dan Feng, during one of his draconic ruts. He was the Child of a Cosmic Horror, ultimately. That’s all Aeons are, anyways. Yingxing had been split on his cock so many times, so full, he bled for a day, even with Dan Feng fussing over him with his cloudhymns, lucid-in-mind and torn apart by so much guilt for a wildly proud man.) 

(Kafka, a few days after she first picked him up from the surface of the asteroid Jingliu had been beating him into. Kafka, a few weeks after that— in a hotel that stank of blue emory roses. Kafka, a few weeks ago, draped over his shoulders between missions. There’s more. Memories drenched in the smell of her rich perfume. They tangle in feelings of comfort and revulsion.) 

Blade doesn’t want to do any of that to you. 

(He wants something with you— but—) 

(Not like that. He doesn’t want you to hurt.) 

“I’m not going to rape you.” He tells you. He hardly sounds like himself as the Mara quiets. 

He thumbs over your lips. There’s a scar in the middle of them where they had been split, repeatedly, and then healed over. You’d told him once that one of your old keepers used to deprive you of water if he felt like it. Your breath is hot against his fingertip. 

You say nothing, but your breath is still fast and shaky. Your eyes are wide. A feral, wild animal.  

“I’m not.” Blade tries to reassure you. You flinch with the sound of his voice. “You’re freezing. The bath can be refilled with warm water. Bathe.” 

Tears break over your lower lashes as you stare at him. He stares back. 

(He wonders what you’re thinking. If you have as much trouble thinking as he does— you probably do. You’ve sustained head trauma. Traumas. You’re both torn-up wrecks, maybe. It could provide him with some solace.) 

“... Okay.” You rub your eyes with balled up hands and laugh. “Okay.” 

Blade then helps you peel off your shirt. Then your shorts and underwear. When you’re bare, Blade drains most of the water from the, leaving you both with a layer of clinging bubbles protecting the barest bits of your modesty. You cover your chest and center with your hands, keeping your head down. Hiding your throat. 

He refills the tub with more soap— too much probably. Mountains of bubbles appear as he dumps in a glug of shimmering, emerald-colored oil. It swirls into the water as it rises. You relax as it rises over your chest. Your eyelids droop. You look so tired. 

Blade washes you like you did him.  

You face each other as he does. Your gaze never leaves him, though it goes glassy again. Unfocused. Blade can feel your heartbeat through your skin, slowing more and more with each pass of the warm, soapy rag he is using. He massages products into your hair. He thinks that he may be doing so in the correct order. He hopes he is. 

This close, he can see all of you. Most of you. Feel you too. He feels ridges and bumps of scars. Chunks of flesh that have been torn from you, replaced by cicatrix, uneven and unnatural under his touch. You shudder when he touches you, shivering despite the heat of the room. You’re sensitive. He doesn’t want Kafka to know. 

You feel different like this. Blade is unable to place why. 

When he is through with you, steam and bubbles still rising from the bath, you drag him closer. Your fingers dig into his biceps, latching on and scrambling to get closer. 

“... You really mean it, don’t you?” You ask. Your eyes are still unfocused. “You’re not going to? You’re not fucking with me?” 

“... What are you talking about?”  

An unrestrained smile stretches over your face, “You do mean it. You do. You do.” 

Blade can only guess what you mean. You clearly will not (or cannot) tell him. You shiver against a full body thing against him. It makes him uneasy. He flips you by the hips, so that your back is to his chest, and he can curl over your shoulders. He cast a shadow into the water. 

Indulgently, he presses his nose into your cheek. You smell like fresh soap and skin. He thinks if he licked you, you’d taste like salt. 

He doesn’t. 

When that’s all he does, you laugh.  

It’s a belting thing, the kind of sound that’s punched from your gut with the same force that could break ribs. Blade can imagine the sound and sensation of it obliterating your insides as your laughter bounces around the tile of the bathroom. It’s manic. It’s an unwell sound. You clutch a fist over your chest as you howl.  

You don’t stop for a while. 

It’s clearly too much. Blade can feel it. The sound echoes in his chest. It must be shredding yours.  

His arm wraps around your midsection as you do, and he tries to press you closer— he thinks. He thinks it might help. Your breath starts to shake, each inhale pitching high and sharp. You’re hyperventilating around your laughter. You’re hysterical, but don’t fight his hold. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, splattering into the bathwater. 

Blade says your name— it should come out sharply. He means it to. 

However, it is gentle. His voice is hushed and rough. 

“You’re alright.” He squeezes you until the breath is forced from your lungs, and there’s no fuel for your laughter anymore. “You’re okay.” 

With a choked, quiet sob, you reply, “I know.” 

... 

It’s later— much later. Maybe the next day.  

Your room still doesn’t have any way to keep time other than your little tablet, which has been powered off and charges across the room on top of your dresser, so Blade can only guess. 

He lays beside you in bed, propped up on an elbow. You sleep next time to him, relaxed and soft-jawed. The soft duvet is pulled up to your collarbones, and you curl into Blade. He’s— warmer than the rest of your room. Even if he does run too cold to be properly alive.  

He runs the side of his index finger over your face.  

You had been so tired after leaving the bath, you’d hardly been able to dress yourself— you hadn’t been able to. Blade to pick out sleep clothes and help you get into them. He chose whatever he could find that seemed. Soft. 

(A flowing, soft teal top and white shorts with golden thread sewn in the seams.) 

You fell asleep quickly after that and have been ever since. Blade had only meant to sit on the edge of your mattress.  

That did not happen. 

Instead, he’s tucked next to you. One of your hands fists the front of his shirt, and your body is angled toward him. Seeking. Wanting. 

Blade could take. 

He recognizes that. 

It’s a thought, though, not a temptation. Not after the bath. Not after feeling the ways in which your body has been torn apart and so painstakingly put itself back together. You are not a creature of Abundance, you are not built to live forever and to repair yourself endlessly like he is. Your vitality is finite. Every scar your flesh must restitch takes something from you and it will not be replaced.  

You will end. 

Your bedroom door clicks, five times, then opens with a whoosh of air. Kafka stands in the doorframe. A sickly-sweet smile stains her mouth. Her lipstick is the is freshly applied and glossy. 

“I see you got all cleaned up, Bladie,” her voice is silken and smooth. He could drown in it. “Was our little pup helpful?” 

“... Yes.” 

“Good.” Kafka hums. Her heels click against the floor, and she takes a place next to you. Even as the mattress dips, you don’t stir. “You’re so helpful with training them. Good boy.” 

Blade pauses his petting of you to glare and grunt at Kafka. She looks delighted. 

“I wasn’t aware I was assisting with any sort of training.” 

“It’s all implicit. As long as they’re getting comfortable, that’s what counts. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else.” 

Blade doesn’t like that answer.  

“I don’t want to see them hurt,” Blade says. 

“That’s sweet of you.” 

“I mean it, Kafka.” 

“I know, I know.” Kafka laughs. She sighs and falls into the bed, over the cushy duvet. She spoons you, flattening herself to your back and winding her arms around your waist. Your brow wrinkles and a little whimper scratches from your throat. “I’d like to see our new puppy kept in one piece too, Bladie. I’ve grown quite fond of them. However, we are both beholden to Destiny. If one of Elio’s scripts—” 

“I know.” Blade snaps. 

He does not want to think about it. 

His hand that had been petting you winds tightly into your hair and your face scrunches up.  

“Listen, Bladie, everything’s alright. You’re okay.” Kafka soothes, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. It leaves a smear. Kafka works Blade’s hand out of your hair. “Be good and keep them company while I give Elio a mission report.” 

“That’s what I have been doing.” 

“Then, keep it up.” 

Kafka rolls out of bed with a sigh, not a hair out of place. She leaves the room almost soundlessly, the door clicking as it relocks. Five times. 

Blade does as Kafka says. He keeps you company, sinking down into the mattress beside you. He wipes away the lipstick left over your cheek and presses a kiss to the spot. He lingers there.  

Kafka can have— a lot of him. But, perhaps, he will covet you, all for himself.  

(If the Mara in his mind had not been suppressed, perhaps he would have heard: 

(FOOL FOOL FOOL! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU COVET AND CLING? DO NOT FORGET YOUR SINS! DO NOT FORGET HIS SINS—!) 

Instead, his mind is quiet. He pulls you closer and sleeps. Space is dead around him, and you are dead to the world in his undying arms. 

Blade thinks he likes when you bathe with him.  

[rottingaffirmations]

WELCOME TO YOUR OWN PERSONAL HELL!

...aka zenith's sideblog/subliminal channel blog (but is it really befitting of that name...) to yap on.

but WHO IS ZENITH? — insane guy who makes ug and yandere-focused subliminals on youtube as rotting affirmations. he also likes cheetahs a lot idk why what a weirdo. oh, you want more information? am i not enough for you? wow. (lol jk check this rentry out)

but WHAT IS THIS ACCOUNT FOR? — yapping and talking about subliminals, plans for subliminal-making, and updates when i'll post a video or livestream. follow if you like me. ^_^

but CAN I INTERACT? — yeah sure. i'll block freely though. and if you believe in any kind of supremacy or eugenics or are a nazi etc then go fuck yourself. also i block doubles.

but DO YOU TAKE SUBLIMINAL REQUESTS? — paid ones, yes! check out this google doc or my etsy shop. i also am open to collabs or subliminal trades.

you still want to follow? click that shiny button, then :3c

hold on, IS THERE A TAGGING SYSTEM? — yuppers. here it is:

#zenith's life updates: not to be confused with subliminal/channel updates, these are my random posts about my life, how i feel, etc. i also talk about subliminals here but these posts are relatively unimportant. #zenith's subliminal updates: posts you probably actually care about about subliminals, manifestation, my youtube channel, and my etsy shop. #zenith's reblogs: stuff i reblog. #zenith's art: my art. probably reblogs from my main/art blog. #zenith's poetry: my poetry. probably reblogs from my poetry blog.

thanks for reading ♥ ...

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚 ♥

i hope everyone's doing well and taking care right now!! we're coming into the colder months in the northern hemisphere, and i'm always amazed how fast the sun begins to set around this time!

tagged by the amazingly talented @thequeenofthewinter and @mareenavee !! thank you so much <3333

tagging the incredible @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @orfeoarte @viss-and-pinegar @thana-topsy @caliblorn @boethiahspillowbook @umbracirrus @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wildhexe and you!!!! even if your name isnt here, you're always welcome to join in and tag me!!

i've got two story snippets this week! i'm starting on a new fic, but it's going to be slow goings. the working title is "Bone of my Bone", and it's the backstory fic for Wyndrelis of my Dragonborn Trio that i've been talking about! it's going to be a good while before i can post it in full since it contains spoilers for the main fic, but i love working on this and writing in his POV!

Another gods damned rejection. Wyndrelis paced the cramped room of the inn he'd rented, a temporary residence until he'd finished his application with the Synod. Of course, this proved in vain. He bitterly crumpled the parchment between his grey hands, balling it tight until his fingers ached. The Dunmer paused and loosened his grasp slowly, fingers uncurling until the ball landed on his desk in a sorry, compressed state. It curled up next to all the other rejection letters. Quick, biting, quill-strikes. Names of professors he'd never meet. Every Synod Conclave from here to Anvil undoubtedly heard the news, and every single one of them rejected him since that night. He heaved a breath, his cheeks hot with the frustration of the scenario he'd landed himself in. He was far from home, with no longing to go back, and all his bets misplaced in scholars and wizards who would have nothing to do with him. There were other ways, of course, other people, other groups. This did little to ease his vexation.

'Mr. Wyndrelis Femer, We at the Leyawiin Synod Conclave hope that this letter finds you well,' The pleasantries had ended there. Then began the statements of fact, the obvious ban on Conjuration, the musings of how it led to Necromancy, a reference here and there of the end of the Third Era. He rubbed at his temples in small, soothing motions to stave off a headache. He plopped down into a creaking wooden chair. He rushed his hands through his raven-dark hair, his posture slumped, his body thundering with his pulse so deeply it made his temple throb, his hands shake. Anger, no. This was not anger. Frustration, perhaps, or even guilt. Guilt. A sword he swallowed whole. Ever since he was a mere boy, the Hermoric clasping for knowledge pitted his stomach, burning up until he could deny it no longer. He'd devoured every book he could get his hands on that contained any fragmentary notion of the things he sought, and when his family was not around, he'd raise his palm and work the magicka into his fingertips and he'd weave it slow, in, out, like water through a sloshing pitcher. Waves of it, smooth as silk, heavy as lead. He'd learn how to move objects in their home. He'd know how to ignite a tiny spark on his fingertips, and eventually, how to dance it between the tips of several digits without letting it falter. His parents had always despised his knack for the arcane. The curse on their name had been enough to cause his ancestors to scorn the practice, leaving Morrowind generations ago and fumbling their way into a small, mountain town in County Cheydinhal. His home would be a memory he spat out. He was no longer welcome there. He did not want to return.

the next snippet is something i typed up in comic sans to break my brain out of a cage! it's chapter 27 of "Cycle of the Serpent", on the road to Mount Kilkreath to return Meridias Beacon, although they don't really know that's what they're doing. teehee >:3c

Fateless stars align, moons rise and fall, and all Athenath wanted was to be at the Bards College right now. That's what they had come here for, that hallowed institute of the arts, the halls which they'd heard whispers were paved with plaque-decorated displays of instruments from famous bards long passed, the stone paths that wound their ways through the high-rising establishment. From the moment that he'd gotten his wits about them after the first night in Solitude, he'd stretched longing looks in the direction of the building, knowing from the groups shared map what streets of Solitude lead where, and how deeply they wished to just march up the steps themself and ask about applications. The beacon radiated a warmth every time he touched it, like the sun off a rock, or the body heat of a small animal. It alarmed him to some degree, the strangeness of the feeling, but they embraced it. The journey to Mount Kilkreath gave them plenty of time to practice their talents, and practice he did, tossing the beacon to Wyndrelis haphazardly and bouncing from heel to heel, capering down the mountain paths and through the trees with songs bubbling from his lips. Sometimes, they'd trail off, coming to a silent standstill as the words escaped him, before shrugging and pulling back into another song.

[….]

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red…" Athenath sang in a sprightly tone, Emeros' eyes avoiding either companion, something the Altmer had noticed. From the moment the trio had decided to set up camp until now, he could feel Emeros' personal twistings of mental acrobatics, but exactly on what, he didn't know. All they knew was that the sun shone bright off the sea, glittering like beetle wings off an aristocratic Bosmeri gown, in its soft and elegant light. He longed to dive into the sea, deeper and deeper, gather shells in their arms and sort them at the beach, turn them over and over for signs of life, for molluscs and crabs, the kind of games he played on the rare visit to the Anvil beach with his family and their old friends, scent of salty, wet fur a brow-furrowing comfort for the Altmer. They could practically hear their old friends calling him down from the mountain, humming and hawing and beckoning the bard down to the shoreline. A hand on his shoulder planted them firmly in the grounds of reality, and Athenath slowed their stride, spinning to face Wyndrelis. "Yeah! What's up?" Wyndrelis pointed down the road. "We're nearing Mount Kilkreath. Do you want the beacon?" He asked in his usual, cold voice. Athenath nodded rapidly, taking the object into their arms. "Isn't it kinda weird how warm it is?" Athenath asked with a smile spread along his carmine mouth. Wyndrelis furrowed his brow. "Warm?" He repeated. Athenath looked to him, confusion dimming the brightness of their eyes.

if you read until the end of this i wanted to give you a special thanks <3 i hope you're doing well, and i'm casting spell of WIP Motivation be upon ye!!

[medicus-felini]

────────────────────────

name — Fungi

pronouns — she/her. they/them

preferred comms — I have no problem with tumblr IMs (it seems to be not as bugged as earlier). However, if we are mutuals and vibe, I prefer discord :)

name of muse(s) — Linn Urey :3c

experience in RP —Like half a year (?) I am a baby rper

best experiences — Ah, yes. I can tell some can guess I want to swoon about the whole Linn and Mr. 3 cinematic universe. AND HELL YES YOU ARE RIGHT ABOUT THAT! There are not enough words in the universe to describe how thankful I am for this weirdly spontanous ship. Namae's threads might be one of my all time favorites around here. Other than that, I absolutely adore all the dash comms and crack posts so much. One Piece rp just keeps giving. There are more I am sure but those are the ones stuck in my head dearly.

pet peeves / dealbreakers —I rarely have pet peeves or dealbreakers. I am super understanding and caring, it is hard to get on my nerves or scare me away. Maybe guilt tripping would be a reasonable answer here.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — Fluff first. Fucking blends my heart. Scrambles it, makes me feel like having fever. I am a huge softie at heart. Next angst because I would not be a mother of countless ocs if I do not enjoy traumatizing and putting them in therapy the next moment. Smut lastly because the other two are more in favor of my interests and writing uvu (Still enjoy a good little lay, dont get me wrong)

plot or memes — Memes, although I do not despise plotting. Memes are just very easy and fun. Most people (me included) feel very shy and anxious to reach out if interested. Memes are a life savor ♥

long or short replies —Long-ish (?). I really feel like putting effort in how my muses feel inside and how they would interact exactly so short replies don't do it for me quite like long replies.

best time to write — Always after I had food. I can't write on an empty stomach. When it comes to time of the day, late afternoon :>

are you like your muse —Kind of, yes. We surely share some similarities like the politeness and interest in biology but I am ambitious. I tend to be quite open and take initiatives when I see some. Also I do not throw up hairballs.

────────────────────────

tagged by: fucking stole it >:) tagging: @waxgentleman @ferromagnetiic @snowdrcp @ravarui @phoenixbxrn @fieryxhearts

[naffeclipse]

Hi! Hello! Just allow me a second to- yeah here we go! *the container of a giant truck opens up and spills a million chef kisses, kudos, praise and many many emotions all over your inbox* Ok, that's the first one, let me get the other three! :D

fdkghñkj

Seriously though, consider this my placeholder comment X3 Aaaah you have no idea how much I want to go absolutely insane in your inbox, Naff, but sadly end of semester is upon me and I'm going to be dreaming, eating, and breathing university for the next couple of weeks (though I'll definitely squeeze the time for the prologue). Ironic how I do want to work on an essay but it's not the one for my class XD

On the bright side, said essay will drop in your inbox when you least expect it :3c

For now just know that it truly was such an amazing finale and I just want to thank you for having written such a wonderful story! You blow me away everytime with your writing skill in so many aspects! <3

THE OTHER THREE? ALSDFJALSFDJ AHHHH CHAOTIK YOU'RE SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH!

I'm so excited but I will wait patiently! Good luck with the end of your semester, and take care of yourself! Drink plenty of water, take breaks, and be kind to yourself! You can do it!

Ah, yes, the age-old dilemma of writing but never having the muse for scholarly assignments aljsdflasd I feel you so much pfft!

Ahhh, I look forward to it! I'm so happy you read and enjoyed it!! Thank you so much, babe ♥

[ahogedetective]

HELLO MY GOOD PEOPLE.... sooo you all probably saw this coming, but :3c guess who’s making a vampire AU agaiiiin, tee hee hee.... I meant to do so last year, but now with all this vampire!Shuichi goodness, I especially had to do so, now!!! I will properly have this AU up on my blog later, but for now, you can read it all here ! But for a tl;dr, here are a couple of headcanons you really need to know:

- Shuichi was born a vampire!! He looks physically 18, but he is mentally much older. (around 100) So he may act and talk a bit too formally for his ‘age.’ Though he’s adjusted to modern times, so he’s not completely an old man, hehehe...

- When trying to pass off as a human, he wears clothes that completely cover his arms and legs, often wearing a gray hoodie, jeans, and a black cap. He wears both his hood up and his hat, and will n o t take either off during the daytime... and will use the excuse he just gets coooold easily and that his skin is super sensitive to sunlight!! (which it is, but not for the reasons anyone needs to know....) But at night and/or when he can be his full vampire self, he likes wearing more formal clothing. Similar to what his human counterpart wears for his vampire costume!

- His true title is Ultimate Vampire, literally only because he is one. (like in the case of Kiibo, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko’s talents being what they literally are) But Shuichi keeps that hidden, of course, and actually uses Ultimate Detective as a fake title! THOUGH like his human counterpart, he still does take on actual cases, to further play the act. He mainly still tries to do them at night, though, so he won’t have to be out in the sun as much. Though it does for a convenient excuse aside from his ‘being sickly’ one, whenever he sometimes will not be seen at all in the daytime.

- He has superhuman strength and speed, both he can contain to a more realistic level. He has powers as well, some including being able to transform into a bat or cat, and can knock a person out with a simple touch. That is what he does to victims he plants to bite, so that they won’t have memory of what he did to them. Once he does that, he licks at the spot he plans to sink his teeth in, before drinking their blood. Then after he’s done drinking their blood, he’ll carry them to a safe spot since he would feel cruel to just leave them lying on the ground... and also after he bites them, he wipes off any excessive blood and tends to the hole marks with a healing ointment to lessen the severity of the pain.

- He’s afraid to tell anyone that he actually is a vampire, as he does not want to be feared, nor hurt... even if there are a lot of things that are ‘off’ about him... (very sharp fangs, never wearing short sleeves in the day, extreme refusal to eat anything with garlic in it, etc.) But with close friends he trusts and/or anyone he’s dating, he would eventually tell them! That is; if your muse doesn’t already figure it out on their own, hehehe JDFNJDD AND while he would be hesitant to bite anyone he cares about or loves...reassurance that your muse would not mind it, would help... he’d take extra great care of them afterwards. ♥

[littlemisstoast]

happy toastn't thursday!!! im not planning on doing much today. i gotta vacuum and mop floors and do some laundry but that shouldn't take long! honestly i think i'll spend most of the day reading fanfic LMAO

i also wanna get some overwatch comp in maybe possibly. im not like, devastated abt ranking plat 1, considering that even big mercy mains like skiesti are ranking lower when they play mercy, but im eager to get back into diamond if possible lmao mercy is hurting so much rn yall im in hell.

i also wanna play a bit of supermarket sim lmao. im doing that thing where if i enjoy something a lot i don't let myself do it???? as like a punishment i guess i don't know man. juice told me to stop so im gonna try actually playing today o7

recently ive been watching a lot of anime! apothecary diaries is actually really good khflksjdg im living for the drama! i can't believe tim suggested an anime im really liking LMAO me and socks have been watching a sign of affection as well! im shocked she's really into it considering it's a slice of life, but i guess it makes sense because it's disability rep and she finds it interesting :3c

ive also been watching cherry magic! i watched the live action a couple years back, and honestly so far i kind of prefer it? the anime isn't bad, i'm just not a huge fan of the art style. i can't believe i'm fully back to my BL roots LMAO it's a shame that tgcf brought me back here because i really don't think anything is gonna get me the same way it did sflkjghsldfkg

anyway i hope u all have a good day!!!! make sure u drink lots of water and take care of urself ♥

[ungalobrando]

*slides into the frame* Guess who's back - back again.

After a much needed break, I'm ready to be as annoying as ever :3c

Ellie Soju | She/Her | 25 | Gemini | ENFJ-T | 🇦🇹

This is my JJBA Blog! Selfshipping with Ungalo ♥

❖ Dating him since April 2020 💗 ❖ Married to him since August 2021 💒 ❖ I'm comfortable sharing him as an F/O!

Because I want to stay true to Ungalo's backstory, this blog contains mentions of drug abuse, addiction, trauma, neglectful upbringing and eventually, recovery from such. I'll be sure to tag everything properly.

I also go off about JJBA in general of course, I spill thoughts and reblog things I like :3

Please read and respect my BYF, as I will do with yours as well.

Before You Follow:

❖ I have BPD and AuDHD; I fixate heavily! My special interests are psychology, names, the human body, horror movies, and snails.

❖ If you want to talk to me, I'm always happy to do so!! But please use tone indicators if you can, and be a little patient, because I can take between 3 - 5 business days to respond x‘D

❖ If I notice racist, ableist, fatphobic, lgbtq+ phobic, misogynist or misandrist comments as well as harassment, I block. I know some people have a certain kind of "humor", that's why I'd appreciate tone indicators, but even if you're one of those people, I might get uncomfortable.

I strictly refuse to interact with fandom discourse; I'm in this community for enjoyment and I won't sacrifice my mental health over fictional characters. I don't care if you engage in discourse, just please don't drag me into it.

If any of the things listed above are a dealbreaker for you, please feel free to block me!! /gen

If you have any more questions or just wanna gush or talk, you can reach out to me anytime! I'm happy to be back and excited to meet you all x3

[missallsundaes]

“Oh, look who’s not wearing any underwear~"

For Ace and reader please? I'm exicted!

Happy Birthday to Ace! ♥ We share a name and a husband (@cyborg-franky), so I can't help but love him. :3c

NSFW | Minors do Not Interact GN Reader x Ace wc | 551 cw | handjob (Ace receiving), implied other stuff ♥

“Happy Birthday, Baby,” You said, wrapping your arms around the middle of the young raven haired pirate, kissing him gently on his bare shoulder.

He looked over his shoulder to see you, giving you his bright smile, rounding out his freckled cheeks, turning around in your arms to give you a big squeeze. “Thanks,” He said, planting a kiss on your forehead, another on your nose, and finally one on your lips.

“I had a little idea of something to do to celebrate,” You said, giving him a cheeky smirk, “And I think you’ll like it..”

You pulled away from his hug, taking his hand and pulling him along to your room on the ship, making no short work of pushing him to your bed. He grinned at you, raising his eyebrows.

“I like where this is going,” He said, propping himself up on his elbows, smiling down at you as you got down on your knees between his legs. You chuckled a response, unbuckling his belt and kissing his abdomen several times, over his defined muscles, making him giggle a bit,”S-stop you know I’m ticklish,” He said.

You pulled the belt from its loops, setting it on the ground next to you, the shining metal of the buckle adorned with an A shining in the light from the sun through the window, moving next to unbutton his pants and unzip them.

“Oh, look who’s not wearing any underwear,” You say with a devilish grin as you reveal more of his pelvis, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock visible, you unzip the rest of the zipper, revealing his erection. “And you’re happy to see me,” You teased.

He grinned at you, “Who says I ever wear underwear, it mostly just gets in the way.”

You chuckle, taking his member in your hand and stroking it, teasing him with a featherlight grip, he groans softly, leaning back on his arms and getting more comfortable, letting you take the reins. You teased him for a moment before tightening your grip just a bit as you stroked up and down on his cock, already feeling it twitching under your motions. Rolling your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum that oozed out of his slit across his member, giving you a bit more lubrication to work with. You speed up your motions, making him moan out.

You kiss his exposed thighs, watching his face as you stroke his cock, “Do you like that, firefly?” You say sweetly as you kiss his skin, hand still at work. He nods, lips trying to form words but failing. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, my sweet boy.” He groaned again, letting his hips buck up into your touch as you stroked him.

You tighten your grip a bit, stroking him a little faster, working him up until he was dripping precum from the head, cock twitching hard in your hand from his need to cum. You pull your hand away, making him look down at you, “H-hey,” He said, almost a whine in his voice, “Why did you stop.. I was about to cum.” He complained.

“Well.. I didn’t say that was your present, did I?” You said, giving him a wink and starting to undress for him.

[captain-kaeya-alberich]

LKB — Vampire Lore

SO I ❤ vampire themes but honestly I don't like how restrictive the supernatural species is. Especially when they're based on only blood bats. There's SOOO many species of bats to have fun with.

So in my definitions:

Reverse Vampires are diurnal* (daytime) vampires that have the same powers/abilities of a Blood Vampire, however can be exposed to sunlight, eat human food (mostly iron-rich), AND give healing blood. (omnivores)

Blood Vampires are nocturnal* and need to feed from human blood in order to both eat AND heal their own bodies. (sanguinivore)

Fruit Vampires are crepuscular* (twilight) vampires that are able to bounce between daylight and night hours and feed on fruits and vegetables for their source of energy and healing. (herbivores)

*Circadian Clock may differ based on genetics.

For Genshin, I ADORE Reverse Vampire!Amber, Blood Vampire!Kaeya, and Fruit Vampire!Diluc/Ragnvindrs !!!!(◍˃̶ᗜ˂̶◍)✩ Although kinda angsty if you think deeply on the amazing possibilities we can make with these.

The Ragnvindrs taking in Kaeya but having the struggles of "How to feed blood vampire without seriously injuring anyone?" until it's learned that a common family has long since birthed a Reversed Vampire, introducing her as Amber.

A young Amber being asked if she is comfortable in helping Kaeya feed and her only response is "Okay! This will prevent me from bleeding out!☺" (nosebleeds or fangs dripping) when she's at her blood limit. Diluc in turn, feels left out, useless, like his family can't truly help Kaeya the way Amber can. However, the Ragnvindrs provide protection for Amber as her condition is rare for vampire species.

Drama grows as Kaeya does not know if he grows to love Amber or if it's her blood influencing him. His confusion results that he feels the same way about Diluc and does not regularly feed on Diluc the same he does with Amber. Amber will be a bit slow realizing she loves Kaeya and Diluc. Diluc loves Kaeya but struggles to know if he loves or is jealous of Amber ("Do I want to be her or love her?" dilemma) >:3c

NSFT Pet Peeve

I prefer vampires to be a living species because I can't stand the stupid logic of them getting physically aroused or having undead boners or orgasms if their body fluid can't even circulate or heat up. I don't care if "magic" is the answer — it's a stupid waste of magic to basically cast "physically aroused".

(ฅ´ω`ฅ) I LOVE the concept of incorporating different circadian clocks to different vampire races. Imagine a starcrossed romance between a diurnal and nocturnal vampires. (ღ′◡‵) ~♥︎

＿( :3 」∠)＿ I like vampires.

[tomahawk-swing]

[[ Long time no see, huh? I hope everyone’s been doing well ♥

Exams, work, moving out... I could roll out plenty of excuses, but the real reason I’ve been absent is, quite simply, that I’ve lost my boys. 

Now, how d’you lose two loud, energetic boys? You forget to cherish them, and you get another hyperfixation on a brand new loud, energetic boy xD

BUT!! I am currently stuck at home on a forced break from work because I caught covid (again), and... the boys are lurking at the back of my brain. I know they’re here, but they’re probably hiding because I’m planning some angst for them :)

In any case, I’m gonna try and find some starter calls I can roll out later when more people are awake. A fresh start! And don’t hesitate to straight up HMU for some plotting :3c 

Take care everyone ♥ ]]

[throughtrialbyfire]

writing tag game!

thank you so much to @dirty-bosmer for tagging me, i had a blast filling this tag game out!! ♥

i'm tagging @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @orfeoarte @totally-not-deacon @mareenavee and anyone else who wants to do this!! no pressure, and if you're not tagged and wanna participate, feel free to do it and say i tagged you!!

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

humor isn't my strong point, but this piece from this oneshot i did for tesfest makes me grin a little every time!

"Thank you," they mumbled against his neck, "you'll never know how much I care for you, Ja'dato." "I can only hope," he teased, earning a small pinch from the Altmer against his side.

A line from your fic that makes you sad

another line from a oneshot for tesfest, i had a blast writing this bit of wyndrelis' backstory!

The older Dunmer held up his hand. "I have one son, and one daughter, and you are neither of them."

A line from your fic you're proud of

this bit from Cycle of the Serpent, chapter 16 makes me think of these bastards frequently

What display was this? Some sort of urge to push him back, keep him away after the trio had begun to see one another as friends? He swallowed down any objections. He knew it, too. He'd been foolish to want to believe all of them were innocent, that Helgen was a mistake.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

oh man i'm always editing in my mind, but this one i think does it for me the most rn. Cycle of the Serpent, chapter 10

The beast roared through shoots of pain, uttering a word that sent the winds of Kynareth's plains silent. "Dovahkiin," it choked, "no!" The beast gave one final low roar, before it fell.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

from a future chapter of An Inner Sanctity (chapter 11, as of right now). ancano being ancano

"Once. But as for a Dragonborn, I don't believe in such stories. They do nothing but fuel the heretics who laud these false narratives of some man-god. It's pointless, really." He could see the anger boiling at Jordis' features. The reddening of her pale face. It made him snicker, defiant as he continued, "Have you even given it any thought that, perhaps, that beloved little Tiber Septim was not the hero you believe him to be? After all, what sort of hero uses a power such as the Numidium to subjugate and practically enslave all opposed to his rule? And yet, you Nords, you believe him a god for this?"

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

from a bit of Cycle of the Serpent, not sure where this scene will show up chapter-wise, but it's in the Solitude arc!

Emeros chided himself mentally as he carried him. The younger man was perfectly capable of walking back to his dorm, and if he was awake enough to leave their dorm in the first place for a smoke, then they were more than capable of going right back. The halls of the Bard's College watched the pair easily, light streaming in from the silvery stars, the high-resting moons. He watched the soft rise and fall of the Altmer's chest, the powdery scent of blue mountain flower clinging to his nightshirt. He felt their eyes close against his neck, and knew that they were already half-asleep, arms looped around him.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

from my hadvar/ralof oneshot, "If by Sun and Moon I Swore"

The moons, orbiting quietly above, two opposing forces, two mismatched eyes peering down through the windows at the pair.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

from Cycle of the Serpent, chapter 17, i got to throw in a mention to an OC who's gonna appear in the winterhold arc >:3c

"There's one particular rune that's my problem," the Nord scratched at his chin, "the one nearest the soul gem. It looks newer, like it was given to the staff recently. I tried sending an etching to Urzha gra-Batob up in Winterhold, but she hasn't gotten to me. Couriers take longer, these days." He explained as he drew closer, running his palm over the carving.

A line from your fic that's shocking

from An Inner Sanctity, chapter 9, aka the athenath flashback chapter

After all, they had contemplated killing him nearly a hundred times now. Athenath would pass the sleeping body stretched out on a makeshift bed in their living room and the thoughts would bloom to life. They'd think of poisoning the other. They'd think of the knife, or the sword, or spells, or any number of ways to do it, and claim it was an accident. No one would mind, nor care. Everyone in the house would go back to their lives, and that would be the end of it.

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

from a later piece of Cycle of the Serpent, when emeros is speaking with the alik'r warriors in rorikstead. this is definitely going to become relevant later and i Will be annoying about it <3

"The Dominion has taken much from me. I suspect the same can be said of you. In fact," he tugged at the chance for snaring information, leaning closer, speaking in a low tone, "if you help me, perhaps I can assist you."

all of my ocs have Problems HAHHGKDFHGKJ

[unxpctedlygreat]

Got tagged by @machidielontheway! Thank you Machie ♥

bold which of the following trope within each pair that you like best! (or if you dislike both, whichever you hate the least)

slowburn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle-aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbors or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or genderbend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

And I tag the usual people bc yes, @whiskerin @lickkaballs @notsuchasecret @ezzydean @ma-je-s-capharnaum ! (of course, you don’t have to do it, it’s all up to you)

And because I can’t seem to ever shut up, more details on my choices under a cut \o/ (... if the cut doesn’t work for you, I’m sorry this is long)

I preface this by saying that my mind is literally 99,9999% Dimitri/Felix at all times now, so some of these answers are definitely influenced by that lmao

slowburn or love at first sight: that’s not a mistake. I like both tropes, but I especially like love at first sight that’s never acted on it until years later; love at first sight that pushes a character to just, become the most loyal and supportive friend ever to the character they love

fake dating or secret dating: Secret dating is such a treat, especially when they’re trying so hard not to be found out but the truth is, they’re a lot more suspicious when trying not to be suspicious than when they weren’t (especially when most everyone thought they were dating long before that)

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers: I mean, it depends on the ship,really?? I usually take the dynamic I’m given in canon haha 

oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence: the only one bed is a classic

hurt/comfort or amnesia: Most amnesia tropes make me feel uncomfortable, so easy choice :’) (also many of my ships usually end up fitting “hurt/comfort” very well. help.)

fantasy au or modern au: I don’t have much interest for modern AUs :O I like fantasy AUs more by far!!

mutual pining or domestic bliss: both are good. very good. But I suppose the domestic bliss feels Better after a very long period of mutual pining :3c

smut or fluff: doesn’t feel right to choose when really, it depends on what I’m looking for at the moment? And most of the time it ends up being fluffy smut anyway :’) (but........... angsty smut good too.......... as a treat.....)

canon-compliant or fix-it: ... can’t we just have canon-compliant-ish fix-its? (i chose one just to choose one but i really don’t know which one i’d like “best” lmao)

reincarnation or character death: i don’t like reincarnation AUs that much, and Dimilix has precipitated me into angst territory so, I’ll be bawling my eyes out but I’ll read the damned character death fics

one-shot or multi-chapter: i dont really see the point of that one bc both are good??? and both can be either short or long so??? I bolded one-shot only bc one-shot are completed by their very nature lmao

kid fic or road trip fic: be it “they have a kid now” or “one/all of them turned into a kid/aged down” , yes (...... for Dimilix i’d die to see a fic with baby!Felix being a crybaby again and so different from the Felix they all know and Dimitri’s just like “... must protect..............”)

arranged marriage or accidental marriage: yes.

high school romance or middle-aged romance: I honestly don’t care for ages? Like, each period of life can lead to different experiences, so if anything, both are interesting?

time travel or isolated together: I don’t like time travel in general so, easy choice again :’)

neighbors or roommates: both are nice but I feel like neighbors allows for more “learning about each other slowly”? idk

sci-fi au or magic au: magic. forever and always magic.

body swap or genderbend: i just.... really like genderbend.......... (but I did attempt to write two body swap fics and the first one of them decided me on the fact that I much prefer when the body swap isn’t being hidden)

angst or crack: i have trouble with crack, and also I like suffering when I read about two(or more) idiots in love

apocalyptic or mundane: I’m not really interested in apocalyptic stuff?

[dragscore]

1, 4, 9, 13, 24 for Sango?

MOMMA TIME

♥ (01) Is your OC in love? If so, with whom, and for how long?

oh hell yea, w/ hawks :3c honestly i feel she didn’t even realize she was in love until he had to disappear for work related stuff (you determine if it’s shady or not-) and she started missing him a lot. probably for a while, though, their relationship goes a while before it’s serious in her eyes, but she absolutely adores and trusts this man and wants to do things right this time

♥ (04) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC hates?

she doesn’t like being put on the spot, like public proposals or being asked out in a big show in front of others. it makes her nervous, especially being a pro hero, she’s already got so many eyes on her. she just wants her relationships to be private and like a basic fact. not some big thing everyone has to know.

she also hates being interrupted by kisses. like if she’s trying to tell you something and you do that, she’ll be pretty grumpy.

♥ (09) What is your OC’s favorite small way to show their love?

through caring acts, she likes to make food or leave drinks or medicine or w/e else they need. she’s very subtle and sweet with her bigger ways she shows love. she wants her partner to be healthy and take care of themselves (even if she’s not so good at that for herself)

♥ (13) How does your OC show their love to those that are not their partner(s)?

when it comes to family or friends, she’s a lot more noticeable in her gestures. she’s louder this way. actively protective and doting, more physically affectionate with hugs and cuddles. unless if youre aizawa. he. doesnt take that. lmfao

♥ (24) How does your OC determine that they’re attracted to someone?

it’s one of those things that just hits her, when she’s in the middle of something like paperwork and oh god why is hawks on her mind why is she thinkin about his stupid pretty eyes and how they get all squinty when hes happy why is she focusing on that SHE NEEDS TO FINISH THIS WORK

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

*slides in* here's a permission to gush about Alchemist :3c

Oh anon do you know what you’ve unleashed… you’re a treasure but also you will regret these words forever;;;;;

*breathes in*

Okay so first of all whenever I see him my entire being just goes all

BECAUSE GOD;;; I WISH YA’LL COULD SEE HIM BECAUSE I’M CRYING MY EYES OUT HE’S WONDERFUL;;;;

He doesn’t have a lot of content right now but I love him so so much?????? He’s so pretty my entire heart and soul just turns into putty whenever I look at him. Like????? Who gave this man the right to waltz in here and just be a god????? I wanna hold his hand and sit in on his classes, helping him out while trying not to swoon over how perfect he is, trying to to mix up potions he’s making. Also his style? On pointe. This man has an aesthetic. He is out here with a LOOK and is SLAYING. He is an icon. He makes an ugly coat not ugly when he wears it and I love it. Speaking of his coat, IT’S SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!! I wanna jump into his arms and snuggle into him and his coat, he’d just chuckle and think I’m silly but I do not care!!!! I also wanna;;;; yoink his coat;;;; I can just imagine him coming looking for it only to see me absolutely buried in the darn thing, calling me cute befire kissing my forehead and taking it back and just AAAAAAAAAFDDRGDRGD ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Alchemist also has the Confident Man© aura that draws me in like a butterfly into a venus fly trap. I can just imagine him trying to get me to be more confident but being all teasing about it, but also just getting me fancy dresses (man is fashion obsessed) just to have us match with me all dolled up and I die. I just love the idea of him spoiling me and taking me around all over the place, a smug smirk on his face while I told onto his arm ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ also sneaking in kisses, just, constantly.

But I see him and just can’t hold back the urge to wanna????? hold his hand????? Just interlace my fingers with his, and hold him, and just be close to him… run my hands though his hair… just thinking about being all lovey dovey with him makes my heart jump and I’m dying. I’m having a heart attack as we speak. I’m drowning in a sea of love, someone send a lifeboat.