#you can sleep. whenever you want. regardless of how much light keeps you up.

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

My brain has decided everything is too loud and too bright to the degree that the only way I'm able to get myself comfortable is under my weighted blanket hiding with the light off in my light-resistant tent

(I actually sleep in a tent made for a bed, highly recommend if it's an option for nighttime anxiety and light sensitivity :3)

[sillygoosealert]

CAN YOU DO A REVENGE VERSION OF SUKUNA BETRAYING READER??!! LIKE WHAT IF READER RUNS AWAY BC THEY ACCIDENTALLY WITNESS HIM BEDDING ANOTHER CONCUBINE WHAT WOULD SUKUNA DO? SEND AN ARMY, BURN THE WORLD DOWN?!! 😭😭😭 AND CAN U TRY TO WEITE SOME COMFORT OR FLUFF AT THE END TYSMN

The Morning After (Before)

Days After Initiating Sexual-intercourse (whY)

angst, comfort in being alone, upset (angry) Sukuna, you leave, BEFORE you leave it's a toxic relationship, AFAB reader, woopsie Daisy- i killed off the reader (i got carried away ::( )

To explain your feelings to anyone but yourself brings tears to your already puffy eyes. Since that night, there are so many things you've noticed that you could talk about endlessly.

For starters, his boldness has increased plenty- as he is now more than comfortable with having multiple concubines clinging onto him while he slouches in his throne. When asked to describe him just a month or two ago, you would've gone on and on about how he was a gentle giant with you- a lie, but you would've sugar-coated anything when it came to him.

Right now, all you could even think about when it came to him was how good it would feel for all those women to look at him with disgust at his actions instead of devotion and whatever made-up fantasy they had made up in their heads. That's how you look at him anyway.

You despise keeping up with your cleaning and even dread entering his chamber with him. Furthermore, you do not act like you are interested in him. Eyes once filled with adornment and even some curiosity are now loaded with resentment and a trace of disinterest. He sees it, everyone else sees it, and you feel it. But it doesn't make you feel better knowing he knows- it just makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow.

You know you want him to care, but you can't help but feel he puts up a show of all the women at his disposal when you're in the vicinity- stretching his upper arms out and putting each one around a mistress while one or two sit on his spread-out lap. All you can think when you look at him is how much of an arrogant whore he truly is.

When he calls someone to bring you to his chambers, he always makes sure to feel up whoever is bringing you before shooing them out. His shoulders broaden as he motions you to come up on the bed. He looks bigger than he did a moment ago, and you can't help but feel he's doing it on purpose.

It's been weeks since you watched him choose 5 minutes of feeling good over you sleeping well at night. Was it worth it? You don't know. But the way he tries to passionately kiss you while his lower half eats you out makes you think he's trying to act like it didn't mean anything.

Regardless, you can't help but notice that the same woman is always seated on his lap whenever you catch a glance of him basking in all the attention he can.

The light slap to your thigh makes you look at him directly in the eyes for a second, before looking off to the side. That makes him huff, sitting upwards. Silence speaks volumes for both of you, as you are refusing to talk about your feelings because you think you know how it'll go; and he doesn't want to admit he's hurt by your rejection. So you both don't say anything.

This happens whenever he tries to initiate something intimate. You shut down. It often ends with stillness enfolding the room and an awkwardness surrounding you.

After a few minutes of waiting you leave without a word, and he lets you. While you go on to cry into your pillow and go on another night without comfort, while he gets a few concubines to praise him and fill the growing void with arrogance.

The more you clean and the less you eat and sleep, the feeling of wanting to die increases. Passing out when you get just a chance to lie down is now a common occurrence for you, as well as taking your time standing up.

Maybe you're depressed because you thought he would indulge in your selfishness and let you be the only woman to touch him so intimately. It's also possible that all the chemicals and labor are finally taking their toll on you and your body, meaning your time is shortening just as much as the other maids.

But the day doesn't start with you preparing to dust and sweep; it starts in Ryomen's Room.

You aren't upset anymore. You know that it contributes nothing and won't change anything. Instead of crying into your pillow or blaming yourself for his actions, you just go on. The world kept spinning after that night. Your heart kept beating- for now. The thought of him having sex like it wasn't once you under him isn't frustrating anymore. Not knowing what you want is, but you can handle that. You won't be his woman- you won't even be his man; you won't be anything to him if you can have a say in it.

He sits you in a chair facing his bed, clearing his throat as if he's going to speak- but he doesn't. Raising your eyebrow, you once again are met with speechlessness.

"What?" On cue, he acts offended, as if he isn't relieved you chose to speak up.

"Don't speak to me like that, Concubine."

"I'm more of a maid now than anything, my lord." He hums when you say that.

"You could be more than that- you could be much more. If you weren't so thoughtless." Thoughtless isn't a word you would use. Maybe more impassive- or a less self-absorbed characterization.

"What makes you say that?" An obnoxious sigh comes out of him.

"Jealousy fills you to the point you can't enjoy being one of my favorite concubines," He pauses

"It must be…oppugning to see me with so many women who aren't you," His posture straightens.

"But understand, the only difference between you and them is how you act."

"What's wrong with you? You don't understand why I feel this way at all, do you?" A sneer is plastered across his face now.

"Redirect your hostility towards yourself. Your jealousy is your concern, Not mine."

"I'm not talking to you. Lecture your other mistresses-" A hand pivots your head to face him.

"Keep speaking to me like you are not leagues below me. I won't hesitate to discard you."

"I'm sure you won't." He motions for you to go away as another concubine waits at the door. They give you a curious look before heading in. It's just her, no one else. That used to be you.

Later that night, after the last meal of the day, you're mopping the dining hall floors. You're pouring more cleaner into the water. You are alone.

That realization floods awful thoughts into your mind as the morning replays in your mind. And without thinking, you unscrew the cap again and bring it to your lips.

While taking a large sip from it, liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the floor, the taste of soap and something else fills your senses.

You start to gag and dry heave as it goes down your throat. Swallowing your vomit, you run off to your room after putting your things away.

There isn't anything after you close your eyes, not anymore for you, at least.

You fall asleep thinking about the night in question. It loads you with a peaceful feeling.

There's nothing you can do now. No more choosing to stay silent when all you want to do is crawl into your side of his bed and cry. You don't even have to choose to let go of your feelings of envy and insecurity.

You wonder what he'll do with your body the morning after somebody finds your decomposing body.

Tag list: @kbirdieee2540 @apollogeticx @night-brain

[totalswag]

midnight adventures — RAFE CAMERON

authors note here's a little something sweet for you guys. soft!rafe will forever have my heart. happy reading lovies.

— taglist if you want to be notified whenever i post leave a comment and you’ll be added.

summary having trouble sleeping throughout the night and text rafe if you can go on a drive to relax your mind

warning(s) trouble sleeping and rafe being the best boyfriend.

"Please sleep," you say to yourself, on the verge of tears, staring at the ceiling and running your hands through your hair with frustration.

It was three in the morning.

You've recently struggled to sleep at night, falling asleep around four in the morning, getting five hours of sleep, and yet feeling exhausted during the day.

Rolling over on your side, a huff escapes your lips as you reach your arm up to the nightstand, where your phones are plugged in. You take it off the charger and call your boyfriend, Rafe.

He responded within five seconds, sounding sleepy and worried. After you've finished stating your sleeping problems, he says he'll be there in ten minutes.

Rafe's truck can be heard from around the corner; a smile forms on your face. You put your slides on and one of Rafe's sweatshirt on then walk downstairs to the front door.

You snuck out of the house quietly and hopped into the passenger seat, greeted by the familiar perfume of Rafe's cologne combined with the subtle aroma of leather.

"Hey," he whispered softly, reaching over to offer your hand a comforting squeeze. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, beaming warmly at him. "Thank you for this."

"Anything for you," he said, turning the truck into gear and driving away from your home turning out of the neighborhood.

He hands you his unlocked phone for music; you're usually on aux in his car. You pick the first song you liked and would set the mood.

You feel his right hand on your thigh, the thumb gently caressing. You let yourself relax under his touch.

"You want to grab something to eat?" He asks out of the blue, checking his shoulder before changing lanes and glancing at you for a response.

"Can we go to the store?" You recommended pointing to the store across the street. 

"Of sure, Baby.”

After getting some snacks, Rafe drove to your favorite spot, the beach. Generally this is your favorite spot to go whenever you want to get away from everything.

Rafe backed into the parking area so you could face the water in the dim light. You took the two blankets he keeps in the second row as he moved around to open your door.

Rafe drew you closer to him once the two of you had settled in. You looked up at him, admiring how blessed you were to have him.

"If you want to kiss me, just tell me," he quips, his eyes fixed on the water. You hit him in the chest, making him laugh, then kissed him.

"What's keeping you up all night princess?" He asks quietly, gently pushing your hair away from your face and examining your expression.

Rafe loathes witnessing you struggle to fall asleep or feel this way. Regardless of the circumstance, he has always been there for you in an instant. You find him most admirable in that regard. You are very fortunate to have him.

"I honestly don't know what's causing it," you shrugged, "stress might be the main factor or something else" was the only response you could give him right now. I'm not sure what is causing you to stay up late and never get enough sleep.

Rafe furrows his brows.

"You know I'd come sleep with you if you had problems falling asleep, and I don't want you to lose sleep. You value your sleep, I know that." You laugh at how much you value your sleep—you really do.

After a while, a few subjects are discussed. A cold breeze blows through the night, and the sound of the waves is calming. You can sense your own body becoming more at ease.

In silence, Rafe and you lay together covered by blankets. It seemed like the ideal moment. You drew closer to him— he also smells good.

"You almost ready to go?" Rafe asks curiously, "I don't want your parents waking up to you not in your bed" you stopped yourself after he finished his sentence, nodding. 

"Yeah we couldn't have that" you joke.

He turned on the ignition after the two of you got comfortable in the truck, allowing it to warm up for five minutes as you had been sitting on the bed with the truck turned off for an hour. 

It took ten minutes to make the drive back to your home. You didn't want to spend the remainder of the night apart from Rafe. Compared to before you saw him, you felt calmer and more content. 

"Can you stay?" If you think about it, what you're asking kindly amounts to pleading.

He replies sarcastically, "How can I refuse?" and then leans in to give you a kiss on the lips before turning off his truck.

Quitely entering your house with Rafe closely behind you. You turned your phone flashlight on incase of running into stuff and waking everyone up.

When you got to your room you took your slides and socks off your feet then flopping on your bed. Rafe took his shirt off along with shoes and socks. You opened your arms waiting for Rafe to get into bed with you.

"Don't worry, I'm coming," he says, placing his shirt on the desk chair across the room.

"Oh, that's what she said," you laugh.

Fake laughing, Rafe says, "Haha so funny" as he slides under the covers.

Snuggling closer to Rafe, you let out a sigh of relief as you kissed his naked chest several times and drew invisible hearts before feeling your eyes close.

You yawn with exhaustion, "Thank you for keeping me company tonight, baby, it means a lot, I love you."

"I love you too princess and that's what I'm supposed to do, take care of my beautiful girlfriend when she's in times like this."

You shared a final kiss with Rafe and then dozed out in each other's arms.

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[sentoooo]

[anon: Can you write a nsfw alfabet with Smoke, if you haven't written one yet?] sorry i havent gotten to this one yet!!!! didnt mean to keep you waiting anon. im a little bit behind on requests, but here i am!!! i also wanna thank yall for the support, i really didn't expect to get a whole lotta numbers on my writing since this is all for self-indulgence really T_T. i appreciate each and every one of yall

cw: NSFW, amab, bondage, body worship, dry humping, little mention of blowjobs, not proofread MINORS DNI

ᴛᴏᴍᴀꜱ ᴠʀʙᴀᴅᴀ || ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomas' HOBBY is taking care of you. Out of everyone, I think he is the most attentive. He has an entire checklist. First, he checks in with you. He makes sure you're okay afterward, he asks how the sex was, and sometimes he'll ask about his performance. He likes opening up the discussion because it shows him what he could do better, what you like, and what you'd like to try. Next, he's gonna cuddle up to you. Hold you all close, play with your hair, and pepper your face with kisses. After that, he'll carry you off to the shower and wash up, still peppering you with kisses. He just can't get his mind off your damn lips. Before you fall asleep, he insists on giving you a massage, and getting you a snack and some water, too. He'll even light some incense, as well. He's got all sorts of essential oils for you, like a whole library. And once he's finished his checklist, he keeps you close. Even in his sleep. He loves it when you lay your head on his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of his is his shoulders. They make him feel especially strong. He also thinks they hold the story of his journey, from hunting with his family to becoming a ninja with the Lin Kuei. Not to mention, they help a lot with hunting, mainly with a bow. Regardless, he's just proud of how far he has come, and he believes his shoulder specifically show that.

On you, he loves your lips. Your entire face, really. But he can never get enough of your lips. How soft & inviting they are, how warm, it's just so hard to stay away from them. He always finds himself sneaking quick kisses from you in public. He also loves heavy make-out sessions, doesn't matter if they lead to sex or not. He just enjoys the feeling of your lips on his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Tomas prefers to cum inside, he thinks it's kind of like marking what's his. It also feels more intimate. But if you don't want him to, then he'll cum outside. And he kind of likes it, too. He likes how it looks on your stomach, particularly. He also loves to kiss you when he cums, it's even more intimate to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Just how much he wishes he could see you masturbate. Yeah, he can ask, but he's too nervous to. He can only imagine you, too caught up, pleasuring yourself, moaning out his name, whimpering. Yearning for him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got some experience, just enough to know what he's doing. But he learns more with you, maybe a little too much. Because he's comfortable with you, he really likes exploring your body. And through that, he's learned of all your little quirks and such. He especially loves dragging his hand down your chest and your stomach, he finds that it makes you shiver quite a bit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good ol' missionary. Tomas prefers to see your face, and missionary is perfect. Keeps you two close, he can kiss you whenever, however he likes. And he gets to give you as much pleasure as possible. But, if you're feeling like a little bit of a workout, he also likes London Bridge, he just really likes to get in there deep. But he also loves holding you by the small of your back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's serious. Like Bi-Han, sex is a very sacred act to him. It's one of the things that can establish a deeper bond with you, and he prefers to keep the tone serious. He wants you to take it seriously, too.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's smoooooth, baby. No chest hair, no pubic hair, no nothing. He likes it that way.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's amongst the sweetest. Sex is one of the deeper connections between you, so he makes sure you know he loves you. He'll outright say it, yes, but his actions speak louder than words. Mainly his attraction to your lips, he loves kissing you any chance he gets. He also loves it when you moan into his mouth. But he also spends ample time tracing your body, kissing down your neck, your chest, your stomach, all of your body. He needs you to know he loves every part of your body. Not to mention the words he'll say. He tells you exactly what he loves about you, he'll speak to you in Czech. Doesn't matter if you don't know it, sometimes he can't find the words in English. He also calls you all sorts of sweet things, Miláček, Drahoušek, Medvídek, Kotě.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't really need to jack off that much. Maybe like thrice in two weeks? But he prefers you, so he doesn't jack off unless he really can't get you off his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body Worship. All the way. Tomas loves taking his sweet time with you, admiring every little bit about you. He especially loves all the delicious little sounds you make as he goes along, how you reach for him. He loves knowing of your yearning.

He also enjoys dry humping. Knowing that the gratification of skin on skin contact is so close but so far. Grinding up against you, moaning out your name, begging for you as if he isn't doing this to himself. He also loves it when you grinding up against his knee.

Sensory Play is another another one he enjoys. Blindfolding you, mainly. But he does also enjoy light bondage. Tying you up and blindfolding you, containing yourself. He likes the idea of being able to do anything he wants to you, with consent of course. Seeing you try to wiggle out of your restraints as he enjoys your body, rubbing his hands down your legs, kissing your chest, all of that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tomas actually prefers fucking outside in the forest. He likes the mood, it reminds him of the nights he'd hunt. It kind of brings something primal out of him! But he doesn't mind doing it in his room, or yours. He is kind of into shower/bath sex, as well. Even if it doesn't require penetration, if he can still jack you off in the bath, he'll enjoy it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As mentioned before, simply kissing you gets him off. He loves when just a small peck leads to a nice, passionate kiss, to a full on make-out session. Especially when you end up on top of him. But he also loves watching you fight. He knows you're skilled, but just watching you in action gets him a little excited.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates being teased. In any sort of way. He likes to keep the rhythm going, because he's very in the mood. So edging, or a ruined orgasm really doesn't fly in his book. He hates having to beg or ask for permission to cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He can go either way, he likes it when you give him head, but if you ask for him to go down on you, he doesn't mind either. He kind of likes it, regardless. He likes doing anything that makes you squirm with his touch, so if you want him to, gladly. But if you offer to give him head, he won't refuse. He loves it when you deepthroat him, especially.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's got a moderate pace, not to fast, not to slow. Depends on the mood, really. If you two are having a quiet night, being soft with each other, he'll go slow & sensual. But, if things are getting heated, he's gonna go faster. And rougher, if you want. Especially in the woods, that's where he likes to fuck you pretty.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You'd have to convince him. If you two haven't been able to enjoy sex for about a month, he's okay with it. He knows the importance of sex, and just releasing that energy once in a while. But if you two have time for a full-fledged night, then he'd prefer you two wait until then.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's perfectly fine with where he is. He isn't really comfortable with risks or experimenting, he thinks he's doing fine as is. And he knows you feel good with him, so to him there's no point.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Alllll night. And maybe shower sex, afterwards. But he's all tuckered out in the morning. Because of his training (and prior hunting), he has more than enough stamina. He just needs at least a day to recover, if you do go all night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really, only the needs to tie you up in light bondage. But if you have toys, he'll gladly use them, and incorporate them into sex regularly. He loves giving you the extra boost of pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tomas doesn't tease, he's probably the fairest out of the roster. Because he hates being teased, he won't tease you in any way. Even if you argue that his extensive body-worship routine is teasing. You both know it's not.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends on the mood. If it's a sensual night, he's rather quiet, moaning directly into your ear. But if you two are out in the woods, and he's goin' rough, he'll be a lot louder, even growling a bit. Actually, some of the words he says has a bit of a growl to it, too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes, when he's real into it, he has a little bit of a Czech accent. Obviously, when he's speaking Czech. But even some phrases in English will have a little bit of accent to it. Especially when he's closer to your ear. It's not something you hear much, since he's been with the Lin Kuei longer than he had been in Prague.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Tomas is a grower, 6.2" in length when hard, 1.6" wide. Leans slightly to the right, and moderately veiny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's really just ready whenever you are. His sex drive isn't the highest, but it isn't low, either. He's patient, he can wait until whenever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how long you two went on for. If it was all night, all he can really do is finish his aftercare checklist, and then he'll pass right out on your chest. But if you two only went for like three rounds, he's making an effort to stay up until you're asleep.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Captain Price Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Career sabotage, age gap, virginity kink (?), smut, AFAB Reader, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, mention of power fantasies, Price is a top, sir kink, mentions of male masturbation, toxic behaviour, abhorent behaviour, SERIOUSLY TOXIC BEHAVIOUR!, mention of a gun, description of a wound/injury, mentions of injuries, mention of blood, brief speculation of medical issues, pet names, profanity, etc.

You'd ensnared Price with your dark wit and humour, mirroring much of his own; and the smile you often served him with.

It took a long time - an arduous process you didn't even know you were engaging in - but you had Price wrapped around your finger within a year.

And he suspected that his liking of you - merely brief flickers of fantasies to ease him off to sleep or to get himself off - ran much deeper than he initially suspected.

Sure, he liked you; he worked with you, saw you every day - he'd think something was amiss if he didn't like you.

Though, that initial companionable enjoyment he - and the rest of the 141 - got from your fresh perspectives and attentiveness caused something in Price to...change.

He felt the shift, knew its symptoms, yet never found himself falling victim to it.

Until now.

He brushed it off at first, keeping his chatter with you tame, dull, if anything, to slow the spread, to stop it.

But he couldn't deny, as the months went on, how you made him feel, regardless of how hard he tried to push you away.

You made him feel safe, truly safe, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sure, he was a big guy, more than perfectly capable of killing when necessary (and unnecessary), but that didn't mean he wasn't subject to the odd adrenaline rush here and there, a bullet wound to the thigh, a gouge to the shoulder.

And despite being younger than him, you were always there to patch him up, to see to him. It was your job. It was inevitable.

You knew that, Price knew that - yet something inside prevented him from believing that your stray touches, the tender look in your eyes, the soft tone of your voice, were merely a symptom of your profession.

They were evidence of your fancying of him, too.

And he decided to let you know that he knew.

It started off with looks - longer than usual. Longing.

In the common room, passing each other in the halls, during conversations.

He'd tease you from time to time, just to see your face break out in a flush of colour.

"Y'know what, (Y/N)?" he'd say, leaning in across the cafeteria table. "You have beautiful eyes."

If you managed to bypass your own embarrassment and shoot a compliment back, albeit sarcastic-- "Not as mysterious as yours, Captain,"-- he'd fall for you harder.

Btw, calling him "Captain," or "Sir," makes all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock.

Has jacked off to his power fantasies before now.

Man's a top, it's just in his nature to want authority over everyone else (you).

After that, he started being more physical with you.

He decided to teach you how to use a gun - "For your own safety," of course.

It was all (mostly) a ploy to have a plausible excuse to be pressed up behind you, arms around yours, head resting on your shoulder as he praised you for your aim.

And to hear you yelp, to feel you graze just the right parts of him whenever you recoiled after firing, into his chest and...elsewhere.

Sent him absolutely over the edge - used it as fuel for his increasingly frequent self-love sessions.

Though, he did actually want you to be able to protect yourself when it came down to it.

But, he always sees himself as your protector; your man on whom you can depend for anything.

One evening, disinfecting a wound on his abdomen as he sat on the edge of one of the operating tables, you and Price got to talking.

"Pretty nasty cut here, Captain," you said, wiping an antiseptic cotton pad across Price's wound.

He winced, though kept the light smile on his face.

"Ah well, all worth it to come and see you,"

You shot him a look of sarcasm, though smiled, finding the sincerity in his words.

"I hope you're not getting injured just for me!"

Your statement was jestful, but the sentiment was genuine.

Price's eyes squinted in a smile.

"What if I was?" he said, his hands sliding to his knees, ignoring the pulsing in his wound and coming eye level with you as you rose.

You were taken aback, though at least tried to look like you'd regained your composure.

You scoffed, discarding the bloodied cotton into a nearby bin.

"Ah yes, a big, strong man like you can't possibly be killed by a mere bullet just to come and see the medic."

Price felt something in him clench, tighten.

He gave a huff of a laugh.

"You'd be surprised the things a man'll do to see a pretty woman."

Your back was to Price, gathering his shirt and hat. You faltered, unsure as to whether you'd heard him correctly.

You shook your head, choosing to humour him. To not take him seriously.

Big mistake.

Price took your: "You know, you could always just come and see me without getting hurt," as gospel.

That night, he imagined you, pleased to see him (in more ways than one), begging to take him.

He could hear your voice chanting his name, moaning and panting as he had you bent over his desk, slamming into you.

After that, he took you up on your offer, visiting you on evenings he knew you weren't busy, where your greatest priority would be paperwork.

You'd talk, get to know each other more and more, you discovering his penchant for World War literature, and he of your interest in video games.

He often compared his tastes to yours, ruminating on how much he could teach you if you'd let him.

You were younger than him by a good margin, yet already so intelligent, so...independent.

Price wanted to change that.

He wanted you to depend on him, and only him, for everything.

One evening, he watched you at the bar with the rest of the Task Force.

Soap seemed rather pleased to see you, sidling up beside you and holding you by your waist, pulling you into his chest.

It all appeared as playful teasing - as many of the Task Force members often subjected you to - but to Price, it spelled a bigger picture.

That night, after you'd returned to Base, Price took his chance.

He knew you hadn't been drinking, so you were of sound mind.

He knew he had to act now.

"Y'know," he said, watching you fumble with your keycard, trying to re-enter the medical wing. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be alone on nights like these."

He took a drag of a cigar you'd just noticed he had: him always being equipped with one made you blind to when he was smoking so close to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking up at him briefly before managing to swipe the right side of your card.

You entered the building, and held the door open for Price. He followed behind.

"Cold. Lonely." His voice was low, vibrating at such a frequency that had you feeling hot. You wondered how he could possibly have this effect on you.

"Who says I'm lonely?" you said, flashing him a smile. You continued walking to your sleeping quarters. Price knew; he'd memorised the layout of the medical wing. Your route.

"I have you."

You meant it more as a compliment to his character rather than an invitation. But Price saw it how he wanted to.

"Yeah," his voice was deeper now, somehow. Lower, as if trying to reach beneath your skirt. "You do."

Price was literally living the dream after that.

No, literally: he had you bent over the edge of your bed, ploughing into you, with you practically crying into the covers beneath him.

His grip on your hips was harsh, months of pent-up sexual frustration being pumped into you.

And that wasn't the only thing Price was planning on pumping into you.

He came to realise, through your months of friendship, that he loved you in a way he hadn't felt about anyone in a long time.

He felt...protective of you - of your innocence.

Despite the horrific injuries you'd had to deal with in your line of work, you maintained your somewhat carefree demeanour.

That, and Price knew you'd never taken anyone before.

Your years of studying, training and working wouldn't allow for it; both you and Price knew that.

And here he was, stretching you out on his thick cock, hitting crevices you'd never even felt before.

You were a doctor - a medic - you knew how sex worked.

And you knew, from your years of textbook study, that you were close. And that Price likely was, too.

"C-Captain- cu-- ah!" Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look back at him.

"That's it," he said, panting, sweating, twitching. "Say my name again."

"P-Price-"

Price landed a slap on your backside, harsh enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Try again, Princess."

He felt you clench around him at the name. His lip twitched up in a smirk.

"Captain..." you breathed out. You knew what you wanted to say - needed to say.

"Don't cum inside me," you pleaded, eyes wide and hazy. "Please."

You didn't have birth control to-hand, and you'd heard too many miracle stories about women still getting pregnant regardless of the aid of a pill regardless to risk it.

Price gave no acknowledgement of your worry, instead continuing to slam into you.

He was relentless, forcing you to your end quicker than you could register it.

You cried out, voice obscured by the covers, as your orgasm tore through you, gripping the sheets as Price was gripping your hips.

He continued to pump into you, prolonging your orgasm, keeping the mist settling over your mind from dissipating. Keeping your judgement from telling him to pull out.

It didn't occur to you until it was too late.

Price groaned, guttural and primal, and something hot and thick filled you.

Price's grip slid up to your waist, one hand settling on the small of your back and the other settling on your stomach, rubbing it.

Both panting and coming down from your high, your mind cleared.

First came the shame - the crushing reality that you'd just had sex with your superior, the man who'd near enough employed you - then, the realisation of a bigger issue.

"You...you didn't pull out..." Your voice was soft, throat dry with incessant panting and moaning.

Between breaths, Price uttered: "Don't worry, Princess. Got the pill."

Relief washed over you, then logic. Of course, why on earth would your superior risk you getting pregnant? Then again, why would he have contraceptives to-hand? This was a military base.

Little did you know.

Price did end up giving you a pill soon afterwards. A placebo, nothing more. Not that you knew that.

You and Price went on with your...relationship?...after your encounter.

You were confused, to say the least; unsure of how to approach Captain Price now that you'd grown to know him so intimately.

Yet he almost acted as if you hadn't; as if the whole thing were nothing more than a dream.

Almost.

The longing gazes and half-smiles let you know that he was still very much aware of all that you'd done together, though instead of the room thickening with tension whenever he was around, you felt shame. Ashamed.

You knew you couldn't undo what had been done, but you could go on and pretend it never happened - the only way you could think to put it behind you.

In the meantime, Price seemed so occupied these days, having important meetings with people you didn't even know or care to ask about, so he had little opportunity to remind you of your experience with him.

Though, he reminded himself of it every day - the fact that he'd been your first, the first (and only) to claim you.

The thought crossed his mind whenever he was fortunate enough to see you in the hallways, whenever he came to you with a scuff or a scrape.

A month passed. And that's where it all ended for you.

The sickness began, your stomach turning more mornings than not, leaving you breathless and fatigued before the day even began.

Your energy seemed to drain quicker, too, leaving you a ghoul of yourself on some days.

The other 141 members seemed to take note, asking you if you were okay, if you were eating enough.

All except Price.

The way he looked at you now - when word of your health's sudden downturn spread - was masked, as if he knew something. Like he knew whatever forbidden knowledge he possessed hid in his eyes, which he kept cold and unreadable.

Eventually, you decided to get tested for...well, everything. You got blood tests, tracked your symptoms, tried to make sense of this sudden onset of sickness.

You considered it was something you'd been eating, but you ate more or less the same meals before the sickness began.

You considered every possibility - blood disorder, stomach bug, liver issues - all except that which you hadn't daned the most obvious.

And when your test results returned, you felt your world shatter.

On your report, in a box in a long table, was a sign. The only confirmation of any illness on that entire report.

Pregnant: Positive.

Your worst fear had been confirmed. And now, you had to confirm it to Price.

Skittering through the hall, you found his office.

Surprisingly, there were no voices on the other end now, usually emanating from this room, muffled and secretive. 'Associates of Price' was the only identification you gave them.

You knocked, was told to enter. You obeyed.

Entering the room, you noticed that Price wasn't smoking his signature cigar, the air of the room clear, unobstructed by smoke.

Price had his legs resting on the edge of his desk, a perfect image of laxity while you, an homage to stress.

Your breath shuttered, and you rubbed one hand with the other. Price remained motionless, as if poised for your answer. Poised for attack.

You couldn't think straight, instead saying the first thing that came into your mind.

"You're not smoking, Captain." You tried to smile, but the attempt was diluted by your fear. Price only gave a knowing smile.

"Mmh. Wouldn't be good for the baby, would it?" The casualty with which he said it almost disguised the statement itself. You smiled, looking down at your hands, then your gaze snapped up to meet his.

His smile broadened, as if he were hearing the news of your pregnancy for the first time.

He took his legs off the desk and stood, his figure's shadow almost reaching you.

"You've...read my report, then?" you tried, cautiously. You didn't want to entertain the hundred other possibilities you were considering.

"No." Price's answer was immediate, firm. He walked around his desk, hands behind his back, and stopped before you.

"Then...how could you possibly..."

The realisation had been there, nestled between your other speculations like a pea between mattresses, pricking you, making you uncomfortable.

Price brought a hand to the side of your face, holding it.

His large hands would have, at any other time, brought you great comfort. But now...

You took a step back, one hand over where your child was, the other ready to defend you.

Only now did Price's smile falter. His gaze became colder, serious.

"Now, now, (Y/N), this isn't all doom and gloo-"

"You gave me a fake pill, didn't you!" It wasn't a question, rather an accusation.

Price sighed, rubbing his beard.

You stepped back, inching towards the door.

"You- You knocked me up on purpose!"

"Now don't go throwing 'round accusations like that-"

"Why not? It's true!"

Price lunged at you, covering your mouth with his hand. With the other he pressed a button on the wall - a big red one that looked like it should never be pressed.

Two soldiers came in - makeshift security guards.

Price handed you to them.

"Put her in isolation; she'll be shipped back tomorrow."

And now, in your cell, rocking back and forth, you cried.

You truly believed this to just be a nightmare - nothing more.

And it only worsened when Price visited you.

He pulled up a chair, sitting before you in your cell.

He leaned forward on his thighs as he had done that evening on the operating table.

"It's for your own good-"

"Oh, fuck off."

You were in no mood to barter, to absolve him of his crimes.

Price's brow twitched, yet he remained composed.

"I'm trying to be reasonable here, (Y/N)."

You scoffed. "You're not reasonable. You act on impulse, on flights of fancy. And this is just another byproduct of that."

Price looked somewhat offended.

"You think this is a flight of fancy?" he said. "You think you are just a flight of fancy?"

He pulled his chair closer to your cell, and leaned in.

"I have put more thought and consideration into you than I have done any other person, any other operation-"

"And look where that's gotten us."

"(Y/N), let me speak-"

"Or what?" you challenged. You came up the the glass of the cell, close enough that your breath fogged against it.

"Or what? You're gonna kill me?"

Price shot you a look that made the doubt flicker in your mind - that he actually would.

Price sighed, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm doing this to keep you safe."

Despite the overwhelming urge to interrupt him, to scream bloody murder at him, you let him talk. For now.

Seeing you were finally letting him explain himself, Price continued, his features softening.

"The military's no place for a girl like you, (Y/N)."

"I'm a woman. Not some complacent little schoolgirl fawning over a teacher-"

"Then what would you call how you've been actin' around me, hm?"

A smug look crossed his face. You sought to correct that.

"What do you mean? You pursued me!"

"Then how do you account for all our time together?"

You racked your brain for what he could have possibly been talking about. The only times you'd spent time with him voluntarily felt - mostly - purely platonic. To you, at least.

"Those touches," he said, nigh whispered, his voice sibilant. "Those looks. Those conversations--"

"You mean me doing my job?"

"Oh, come now, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Captain-"

"Call me John."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose both yourself and your response.

"John, listen, I don't know what I've done to you, but whatever it is, surely I didn't warrant...this."

"You--" John looked at you as if you'd shot him. "You think this is condemnation?"

You felt confusion bubble in your mind, dyeing your thoughts with the colour of uncertainty.

"You don't?"

John sighed deeply, rubbed his temple.

"This," he began, "is to protect you."

"From what?"

"Your job."

You threw your hands up in the air, feeling as if you'd gotten nowhere - that your questions still hadn't been answered.

"I love my job, John! I love taking care of people, I love the 141, I love-"

"Me?"

Your breath caught in your throat. The look in John's eye was serious as death.

You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn't believe that he mean it - that he loved you. After all, you didn't love him.

"I just don't see what you're trying to protect me from, John." You skirted around his question, folding your arms across your chest.

John acknowledged your answer by not acknowledging it at all.

"You know the risks of my line of work - of our duty,"

He stared dead into your eyes and you couldn't look away.

"And I can't - won't - let you be a victim of it."

"A victim?" Your voice was airy, inflated with disbelief.

"I chose this profession, I have bled for it-"

"Which is exactly my point! I don't want you getting hurt anymore-"

"Why do you care?-"

"Because I love you!"

Price's voice thundered, making your very bones quiver.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stepped back, more stumbled, the weight of Price's statement shooting past you like a javelin. Just missing you.

Too much ran through your mind after that, making you nigh-unresponsive to John.

Everything that occurred afterwards became a cesspool of moments and emotions, barely strung together by a thread of logic.

A caretaker came in shortly after, telling you, in a voice that was none of which you knew, yet possessing a sentiment you recognised immediately as Price's plan:

"We'll be excusing you from your medical obligations until a year after your child's birth, after which you'll be free to return to work--"

Even through the buzzing of your own anxiety, a flicker of hope lit within you.

"--given that your superior authorises your return."

Aaand it was snuffed out.

Your heart sank, nerves frying, mind going blank.

So this was his scheme, you thought.

24 hours later, an aircraft descended from the heavens to pluck you from reality. And Price was there, over your shoulder, providing little comfort.

He had a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it, squeezing it.

His breath was hot on your neck, unfazed by the cold breeze ushered your way by the blades of the helicopter.

"I'll be with you soon," he told you, uttering it into your ear. Even the cotton-eared effect of the crushing wind and metal couldn't mask his words, his voice.

It sent shivers down your spine. Unsettled you.

Once released from the grip and watchful eye of the Captain, you sprung into action, pleading with the attendee to get help, to do something - that Price was not the valiant hero everyone thought him to be--

And the attendee did nothing.

In fact, they seemed to be on his side, already knowledgeable of Price's misdeeds and not caring for how they affected his victims.

Though, they did admit, he'd never done anything like this before.

"Seems like you're special," they said, leaning back into their seat.

Mortified, and truly alone, you sank back, stomach heavy with the weight of your reality and the life growing inside you.

You were taken home after that, but you knew it was not truly your home.

Price had been here, one way or another; you could tell by how the house no longer felt like you - smelled like you.

And when you checked the crevices and corners, you knew why.

Cameras. Few and far between, but obvious if you knew where to look.

Either Price didn't know you as well as he thought, or he knew you too well; knew that you'd find the cameras, a reminder of your binding to him.

Now and forever. With a man you didn't think capable of such cruelty, nor such "love".

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[rosypenguins]

💙Saisy Headcanons🤍

(May or may not be doing this for a friend lol. These can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic.)

💙Sean and Daisy call sometimes while Daisy’s doing homework. She doesn’t have much time to do it during the day, so she’ll sometimes be up ‘til midnight just trying to get everything done. Sean usually stays awake with her until she gets everything done, and she’s always apologizing for keeping him up. Sean, who never sleeps regardless, just says: “It’s fine. I like spending time with you. :3”

🤍Daisy’s also probably fallen asleep on call a few times, and Sean finds her sleepy voice really cute.

💙Daisy’s probably overheard Sean’s parents arguing one time while they were calling, but when Daisy asked about it, he sort of brushed it off.

🤍Whenever Sean asks how Daisy’s been doing, she’ll usually start off with: “I’m doing fine, but-” and then end up rambling about her problems for about 30-minutes and then profusely apologizes for it afterward. (Despite Sean telling her countless times to not apologize.)

💙Meanwhile Daisy will ask Sean how he’s doing and he’s just: “I’m good :)”

🤍So much stress hides behind their smiles do not be fooled.

💙They both need hugs. (And think each other’s hugs are the best.)

🤍Daisy definitely has a Tumblr and definitely follows the Girlblogger tag. (Specifically for all the posts about feeling like a disappointment and wanting to cry and run away to practice Witchcraft.) (She also probably really likes the Croquette aesthetic.)

💙Sean loves the Cyberpunk aesthetic and he too wishes he could run away to a futuristic city full of loud music and neon lights.

🤍Daisy’s genuinely worried about Sean’s hearing since he keeps his headphones on for most of the day and has them at full blast. (She keeps telling him he’s gonna go deaf at 30 and he just shrugs it off.)

💙Sean’s headphones are one of his prized possessions he’d trade his own soul for.

🤍Daisy definitely listens to Lofi to help her study. (She also probably listens to Egg, Lyn Lapid and Lana Del Ray.)

💙Sean’s the type of guy to die for you. Daisy’s the type of girl to kill for you. I will not elaborate.

🤍Daisy really likes the scent and flavor of vanilla. (And Sean has taken note of this.)

💙Sean will usually either make or pack little snacks for Daisy to have throughout the day, since she probably doesn’t have enough time for breakfast and her busy schedule doesn’t give her much time to eat lunch either.

🤍Daisy’s obsessed with Sean’s cooking.

💙Sean has taught Daisy a couple of broom tricks, and was surprised by how quickly she picked them up.

🤍Both Daisy and Sean treat Mr. Broom like an actual person. They’re very respectful and apologize if they ever drop him.

💙When Daisy’s schedule permits it, Sean will take her on late night walks throughout the city, and they end up getting into the most outlandish, existential conversations about life.

🤍They both really like stars, and hope to one day head to the countryside where they can better see all the stars in the sky.

💙They both really like dogs, specifically tiny dogs. Anytime they see one while walking, they have to go and ask for permission to pet them.

🤍Daisy could EASILY kick Sean’s ass if she wanted and Sean’s fully aware of this.

💙Bonus: If the world wasn’t so difficult and they didn’t have so many responsibilities, Sean and Daisy would 100% hop on a random train and run away together. (They’ve fantasized about this a lot.)

[ghostlykeyes]

Hii!! Can I request Aki, Kishibe, and Angel devil with a heavily modified s/o? I have a feeling these guys wouldn’t be intimidated by someone with a little more metal in their face and ink in their skin! It can be whatever piercings or tattoos you want! Feel free to get wild with it!

heavy mods are best for both video games and hot people, god bless

Really long so much of it is under the cut! 🖤

Aki

When it comes to aftercare, Aki isn't squeamish at all. He's completely willing to help you properly care for your new body modifications. He's ever-so-gentle as he dabs ointment on the new out-of-reach tattoo in the center of your back, light and thorough as he swabs your snake-bite piercing. (Yes, he knows you can probably take care of it yourself. Just hush and let him take the excuse to touch your lips.)

Aki loves to trace the lines of your tattoos while the two of you are cuddled up together. It's a soothing ritual--his fingers follow your warmth across the curves of your skin, and his stress and worry starts to melt away a little bit. Whenever you're snuggling on the couch watching a movie or eating dinner close together at the table, his fingers fall into the well-traced path he's mapped by your tattoos. Tracing your ink is often the last thing he does before the both of you drift off to sleep. He pulls you close as the darkness closes in, ghosting his fingers across your skin until your breath evens out and you settle into your dreams.

Whenever you go to get a new piercing or tattoo, Aki comes with. He stands next to you, clasping your hand comfortingly (if the artist doesn't boot him out of the room, of course). Squish his fingers as hard as you need to, if it helps you push through the pain--Aki never complains.

Even though he rarely buys anything, Aki likes to come along while you're shopping for new facial jewelry. He offers honest answers to all your questions: "I don't think I like that lip ring. The color doesn't look quite right." "You should get that industrial bar. It suits you." If you see a pair of standard lobe earrings you like, he'll buy you both a pair and match jewelry with you. (As long as it's nothing embarrassing. On you, the beetles made from rainbow beads look cute and endearing. If he tried to rock them, he'd feel like a clown.

Aki's favorite tattoos of yours are your floral pieces. He's drawn to their delicate beauty, and he thinks it's interesting to see how the natural world can be artistically preserved and interpreted.

When you suggest giving each other stick-n-pokes, Aki's hesitant. He's content with just his earrings, and he really doesn't want to mess up and leave a permanent horrible scribble stamped on your bicep. But when you tell him that you don't mind if it doesn't look the best, and you just want something to remember him by, he softens. He lets you print your name on the inside of his wrist. It's the only tattoo he ever gets. When he's poking yours, though, he doesn't let you see it until he's done. The two of you sit in companionable, comfortable silence while he quietly works the picture into your wrist. As soon as he's done, he gently, bashfully smiles up at you: "Do you like it?" He's tattooed a tiny cigarette with its smoke curling into a heart shape. Of course, you tell him you love it.

Aki keeps one of your stud piercings in his pocket while he's out on patrol. He wouldn't want to lose some of your favorite jewelry, so he picks out some that you wouldn't miss if it somehow fell out of his pocket. It comforts him to have a small piece of you with him, and he fidgets with it whenever his mind wanders back to you while he's working.

Kishibe

Kishibe completely understands the appeal of body modifications. He wanted to get more, himself, but getting an earring torn out in a devil fight put a damper on that. Regardless, he thinks the ones you have are damn sexy and he always hums in approval when you come home rocking a new piercing or some ink. The more the better!

If you want to annoy Kishibe, steal his earrings off the bedside table and wear them. He'll grumble at you that he needs those, since they're the only ones he has. If you really insist, though, he'll huff and let you wear them. Really, he doesn't mind when you wear his jewelry--he thinks it's kind of cute. But he's got a grumpy-hardass reputation to keep up, and he can't let you get away with everything scot-free. You'd rule his life even more than you already do.

If you ask where he got his piercings done, intending on getting a few piercings done there too, Kishibe just laughs. "Well, the one I woke up with after getting blackout one time, and the others I did myself...probably best to stick with your regular shop." Naturally, you can't ignore the fact that Kishibe just admitted to piercing his own ears. If you beg hard enough and give him those adorable puppy eyes that he tries hard (and fails) to be immune to, he'll begrudgingly agree to pierce something for you. He's most comfortable doing your ears, but if you insist on something like your hips or belly button he'll just shrug and tell you to lie down. He grumbles at you to lie still as he swabs the area with rubbing alcohol, but he pushes the sterilized sewing needle through so quickly and smoothly it's hard to believe he isn't a professional. "Don't forget to keep it clean," he tells you, looking his handiwork over. "I'll feel bad if you get it infected."

Kishibe loves the attention that your body modifications draw in public. He loves being seen with a cute young thing like you, holding your hand and being called your 'dear'. Your heavily-tattooed, pierced-up appearance just means that more people are looking at you two, noticing the grizzled devil hunter and his hot ass partner.

For your birthday, or any other special occasions, Kishibe pays for you to get another tattoo. If you ever protest, citing the cost, he just rolls his eyes. "What else do I spend my money on? Booze? Just go get somethin' that you like."

While he like them all, Kishibe's favorite tattoos of yours are the badass ones. Knives, katanas, skulls--if it's a little edgy (but not pretentious, of course) he loves it. He also has a fondness for traditional Japanese work and pinup girls. If you've got a full back of traditional Japanese tattoos, the kind that gets you mistaken for yakuza and frightens old people, consider Kishibe suitably impressed.

Whenever you're making out, Kishibe's tongue automatically finds tongue stud and lip ring decorating your mouth. He pays the jewelry special attention, pulling lightly on it with his teeth. Not enough to hurt, or dislodge anything--just enough to push a shiver down your spine.

Angel

Angel doesn't necessarily understand the process or reasons behind body modification. In his eyes, the pain doesn't line up with the payoff. Why undergo such a grueling process? That doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the aesthetics of your body modifications, though. He thinks each piercing and every tattoo has its own charm, and you'll often catch him fixating on one of your shoulder tattoos or nose piercings, his eyes following the swirls of ink or shine of metal.

Whenever you go to get a new tattoo or piercing, Angel comes with. He folds himself up in a chair in the corner, knees tucked comfortably to his chest, and rests his chin on his leg. He's intrigued by the way that touch intermingles with pain, and it fascinates him that humans will trust a complete stranger to hurt them if it means they get a new tattoo. He doesn't speak up from his spot in the corner, offers no words of encouragement or comfort--but his soothing presence helps you through the process anyway. If he notices you wince under the needle he'll tilt his head at you and send a kind look your way. And, of course, after every appointment he insists the two of you go out for ice cream. To aid your recovery, of course.

While the two of you are being lazy together, spending the afternoon with his head in your lap (with a thick blanket between you, of course), Angel loves to hear the stories behind your tattoos and piercings. Tell him all about the semicolon stamped on the inside of your wrist, or the shitty stick-n-poke you did yourself on a hot, bored summer afternoon, or about the orbital piercing you got while shit-faced at a house party. No matter the story, big or small, he loves to hear you talk about your body modifications. Knowing the backstory behind each one feels like something so special, so private, so intimate, like he gets to see the full picture of you while everyone else only sees the surface.

Sometimes, Angel picks up your jewelry and plays with it whenever you take it out. He likes to feel the subtle warmth leftover on the metal, transferring slowly into his palms. He can't feel you skin-to-skin, and this is a tiny way for him to at least feel something. He doesn't explain to you his reasoning, but you let him fidget with the jewelry anyway.

When you get a small pair of angel wings tattooed over your heart, and proudly show Angel, he double checks with you that the protective wrap over it is totally secure--then he reaches out and ghosts a hesitant hand just over the wings, so lightly that your angry nerves barely feel it. "So I remember my guardian angel is always watching over me," you tell him, and he smiles at you tenderly. "I like it," he says. He wishes more than anything that he could just lean in and kiss it.

Angel's favorite tattoos of yours are the cute, silly ones. He loves the spaceships, smiley faces, tiny frogs--anything that's fun and lighthearted. If you'd like another, more subtle tribute to him inked in your skin, a soft serve ice cream cone is the perfect choice! He thinks it's adorable.

[thebawdybaldurian]

More Ice Storm Drabbles

As usual, this will eventually get made into post-game chapters of Tale of the Tadpoles. :)

Context: Tav and SpawnAstarion are married and live in Tav’s artist cottage in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is a reoccurring third in their relationship, he sees them whenever and for however long he can stand to be in the city. They have acquired a pair of magical rings called The Sunlovers’ Bond that allow Astarion time in the sun, as long as Tav stays in the shadows, transfusing his sun allergy to her. Each silver band has a gem, one black, one gold, and had a small pin that punctures the skin, allowing the blood bond spell to work. Tav and Astarion have planned to be child-free due to their past/childhoods. Elven births are uncommon in Faerun.

Content Warning: Mention of menstrual blood drinking, and, and oral sex. Mention of abortion. Vomiting. Oral sex. Rough sex. Light choking.

Astarion climbed up the ladder to the loft, finding Tav dozing in her reading chair by the fire. He didn’t want to disturb her, so looked for something to do until she awoke. He glanced over at her desk with a sigh. Her usual chaos had increased exponentially due to the deadline of her latest book. There were dishes with dried crusts of bread, loose sheets of papers, empty ink pots, a few encyclopedias, among so much else that had collected in the last month. He began to straighten it, the noise of his work waking her from her light trance. “Hmmm, hi,” she said sleepily, wiping a bit of drool from her mouth. “Is it late afternoon already?” He typically finished his work at the atelier by then.

“It is, love,” he smiled at her, wondering if she was feeling well. She didn’t normally sleep during the day, unless she was on one of her writing binges where she would be up for three days and then sleep another two. He tried his best to prevent this, but she was stubborn as ever. “Darling, you might as well set this desk on fire instead of trying to organize it. I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he smirked at her.

“Because every time you would come to bother me about, I’d give you a blow job instead.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he laughed, remembering a few of them. She was as skilled with her mouth as she was with her mind. “They’d have to be spectacular blow jobs for me to allow this.”

“They always are,” she grinned.

He flipped through the calendars on her desk, just doubling checking that everything had been checked off. Her concept of time was terrible, as well as her task management. The calendars helped keep things a little more focused for her. That is, unless she’d written and been using the same month twice, each with only certain goals checked off. Had she not noticed she was using two? His one appointment on her calendar was “moon blood break” with little fangs drawn underneath. This was the day she would skip her monthly tincture to prevent it and let him taste her for the few days it lasted.

It was checked off, as if she’d skipped her tincture, but it was well past the middle of the month and she hadn’t began her bleeding.

She’d gotten up from her chair by then and sauntered over to him. “So anal and you’ll forgot about all this?” She grinned devilishly at him.

“Not a chance,” he grabbed her ass. “So, tell me, love, did you know you had two of the same month, that you appear to have been using interchangeably? I have no idea if half of this stuff is even done.”

“I wouldn’t have checked it off if I hadn’t finished the task, so unless there’s some big mix up, it should all be done, regardless of which calendar I checked it off of.”

“Okay, so see here,” he pointed to one date and flipped the page to the second calendar. Both dates said ‘moon blood’ and either ‘break’ or ‘re-make’ underneath. “Did you make a new batch or skip your last one?”

“Uhhh, well, it’s the 18th right? I must’ve remade the new batch and taken one or else I would’ve started my courses by now,” she flipped the calendar to the current month.

“Look up there though?” He pointed to the little shelf above her desk where she kept various tinctures and potions for easy access. “You have one left. You should have two if you remade and took one.”

“Or none if I’d skipped one this month,” she trailed off, feeling a sudden panic in her stomach. She had the vaguest recollection that she’d intended to take her last tincture, checking it off the calendar, when Halsin had surprised them with a visit. They spent the first full day in bed together, just fucking slowly, eating, and pampering each other. The second, they’d done that half a day, then gone to dinner with Wyll and stayed out until almost dawn. They’d slept in the next day and then did their usual routine for the week Halsin was there. She’d gotten some really beautiful figure modeling sessions out of them, contemplating putting out an art book of erotic illustrations and drawings.

“Tav!” Astarion brought her mind back to the present. “Are you feeling alright dear? You’ve slept a lot the past week and have been unusually head cloudy. You didn’t mix up a tincture or been to any less than hygienic taverns for a sausage roll?”

“No, I don’t think so, but a sausage roll sounds amazing…I…I think,” she paused, closing her eyes and trying to sense within her body. “I think I might be pregnant.”

“What?” He looked at her in shock, though everything immediately made sense. She was hornier than usual, hence the copious amounts of blowjobs, then she had been sleepy and horny. Her honey began to taste a little different and her strange snacking had begun. He couldn’t walk five feet without seeing something she’d left out to nibble on. Crackers, dried fruits, stable sausage, chocolates and other sweets. The past few days had been all sausage. Sausage rolls, sausage for breakfast, smoked sausage with taters, charcuterie boards. She was a trained chef who rarely cooked, but she’d been in and out of the kitchen suddenly. He’d just thought she was decompressing after her deadline.

“Halsin…arrived on the day I was supposed to take my last one, I must’ve gotten distracted right between checking it off and taking it.”

He released the grip on her ass and moved a hand to her belly. “Do you really think so?”

“There is one way to check for sure.” She knew the recipe for the tincture by heart.

It was one of her best sellers when she’d had her potion business. She’d also had to use one herself once before. She was mid-breakdown, after being stalked by an obsessive sorcerer who had ended his life in front of her. She had just joined the cloister of Sune, but still hadn’t learned to love and respect her body behind sex. She had no idea who the father could be and she never wanted to have a child period, let alone under such circumstances. She thought her parents would steal away their new heir if they ever found out about her having a child. Then they’d finally have their sorcerer progeny to carry on their legacy.

She had been sick for days, both from her shifting body and the thought of someone else being subjected to her narcissistic parents. She’d taken a different tincture, spent a day in bed in agony, and come out the other side, ready to re-learn how to be a person. Some other lucky mother would birth that soul into its next life. Someone who could properly care for it.

Tav turned away from him, beginning to feel the slightest bit of nausea. “I’ll just go over to the apothecary shop and grab something,” she headed towards the ladder that led out of the loft.

“I can go, if you like,” he said anxiously. “You can stay and rest and I can take the ring and go out.”

“No, they’ll just try to sell you some other shit with it. ‘Don’t send a man in to buy women’s potions’ was a saying among the herbalists around town.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been more easily distracted these past few days as well. You might go out and come back with everything but.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned widely, him knowing her moods so intricately now. Their relationship was built around her chaos and his need for a little control. It was a benefit to both of them, as his control was never at the benefit of only himself. He helped her stay a little more efficient and organized and only occasionally tied her up on her knees when they were feeling a little extra kinky.

She blew him a little kiss and climbed down the ladder, grabbing her cloak off its hook. It was not particularly cool outside, but her body temperature had also been all over the place. The test would just be total confirmation, she was almost sure of it now that she thought about all her symptoms.

Astarion climbed down the ladder as well, kissing her goodbye before she went out the door. He immediately began trying to calculate how long it would take her. Fifteen minutes to the shop, but adding five if she lingered to browse windows, her attention span either hyper-focused or non-existent. He hoped it would be the former. So likely half an hour give or take.

He looked around for anything he could do to pass the time, otherwise he was just going to pace. Her snacking had left quite a few unwashed dishes, so he decided to tackle that. They ate out quite a bit for dinner, her a large meal, and him a delectable drink from her thigh. Sometimes he couldn’t wait until they got home, pulling her into an alley, like a sinister fiend, pushing up her dress and drinking her right there. They’d usually fuck in the alley after, so it happened quite often.

He wondered for a moment as he scrubbed a pan, if there was any possibility it could be his child. He came inside her often enough to produce a whole brood, if not for their lower elven pregnancy rates, and his seedless spawn theory was just that. He had no idea if it was fully accurate or just even more rare for an elven vampire spawn to achieve. He would abide by whatever Tav wanted, as the possibility of children had never really been in his mind. He didn’t hate them and liked the tiefling orphans’ particular brand of scamming, but he never pictured himself as a father.

He finished the dishes, wondering how long it had been, starting to pace and straighten the blankets on the back of the couches before she returned. She had a cloth sack in one hand and a sausage roll in the other. “Do we even need the test?” He grinned at her.

“Shut up and hold this,” she pouted at him, handing the sausage roll to him and pouring the contents of the sack out on the kitchen table. There was a single tincture bottle and several sachets of loose ingredients.

“I thought you wouldn’t be sold extra unnecessary stuff,” he playfully licked the end of her sausage roll. He was surprised it actually had an appealing taste to it. “What this?” he asked.

“Oh, a blood sausage roll. Despite my appetite, I wasn’t planning to stop for anything and come straight back, but I smelled the blood and just had to have it. Gods, maybe this is your baby,” she joked, as Astarion had previously told her spawn couldn’t impregnate anyone. “This is just some extra ingredients to make my own testing potion. I didn’t much like the seller’s formulation.”

“Are you going to finish this?” His eyes widened at the mention of her blood craving.

“Eventually,” she looked over at him. “Don’t throw it away, I just have to try to piss in this bottle.”

“I wasn’t going to throw it away, I was going to eat it. It actually taste okay,” he added as she turned towards the hall.

“Really? I thought all food tasted terrible to you? You can have it if you want,” she blushed a little. “I finished the first one before I got home.”

He waited anxiously, gnawing on the sausage roll and straightening some more things in the kitchen. How long had it been? How long did it take? He eventually walked down the hall, hearing quiet sobs coming from the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub crying, the tincture bottle now glowing slightly. The glow of life, some people called it. He sat down next to her, hugging her tightly. “My love. It’s going to be alright,” he said softly to her.

“This is supposed to be a miracle, a rare thing that deserving people get,” she cried. “But I can’t do it. I…”

“It’s alright,” his throat tightened. “We don’t have to make a decision right away. We have a little time.”

“Halsin,” she sniffled. “He deserves to have a child of his own.”

“We should talk to him first,” he held her tighter, knowing the Druid would also go along with whatever she decided.

“One of his birds, the ones at the Elturel Enclave, will get to him the fastest,” she nestled against him.

“How about we stop by there at dusk and then have dinner? Four courses.”

“Okay,” she let out a long sigh. “But could we try to find seven courses? The firsts are so small.”

“Seven courses and an extra dessert,” he pulled her chin up to kiss her gently. “I love you, my nightingale, my little angel,” he spoke to her in elvish. They tended to use their native tongue only in their most intimate moments.

“I love you too,” she pressed her forward against his.

He helped her up from the tub, feeling suddenly a little nauseous from his unexpected meal. He couldn’t really digest solids, yet had swallowed the entire sausage and roll, the craving too powerful to deny. “Love, I think I am going to be sick,” he made a face, gently pushing her towards the doorway. She managed to get out the door before he vomited the contents of his stomach back out, tasting much less pleasant the opposite way. The sound was enough to make her sick as well.

“Move, move, move,” she hurried back into the bathroom, gently pushing him aside from the toilet. He grabbed her hair out of her face and turned away as she retched. “Ugh,” she sighed when she was done. “I suppose I don’t need to make a second testing potion. I had morning sickness the first time.”

“First time?” He rubbed her back gently.

“Oh, I uh…I become pregnant when I was very young. Shortly after everything with Quinn happened,” she sighed. She hadn’t ever told Astarion about this. “Pretty fucked up that the Gods chose me twice to be a mother and I haven’t wanted it either time.”

“The Gods are idiots,” he helped her to the sink so they could both rinse their mouths out. “How about you sit on the couch with your feet up and I can fix your hair for tonight?”

“Okay,” she watched as her hair moved in the mirror, touched by his invisible hand.

They walked to the living room together and Tav sat on the chaise with her feet up. Astarion stood behind her and finger combed through her hair before beginning to braid it. Now that they were traveling less, she’d let it grow long, much to his delight. He finished with her hair and moved his hands down to her shoulders, giving her a massage. “Mmmm thank you, my love,” she sighed and relaxed a little more.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You know,” he began, the thought still gnawing at his mind. “I’m not completely sure vampire spawn are infertile. I was never told either way. I just figured after 200 years of…well…since I never to managed to…it must be impossible for a spawn.”

“Really?” She leaned her head back to look in his eyes. “Does that change your mind about things?”

“No,” he looked down at her, letting his fingers wander up to her face. “I will respect your wishes, either way.”

“You aren’t leaning in either direction though?”

“I can’t imagine either of us with a baby, to be honest,” he gently rubbed her ears. “But Halsin…”

“I know,” she sighed and closed her eyes. “He’s so wonderful with children…and the rest of his family is gone.”

“Would you…have it…for him?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe. If he wanted to raise it.”

He joined her on the chaise, resting her feet in his lap so he could massage them as well. They talked things over, decided that they would wait to speak with Halsin before anything was set in stone. At dusk they set out towards the Enclave, arm in arm. Astarion rarely went inside when they visited, but did this time. The palace was almost unrecognizable by now. The tieflings had torn out everything but the foundations, rebuilding it as a safe refuge. Tav went to the aviary to send a bird to Halsin while Astarion minded himself inside the home he formerly haunted.

Tav rejoined him and then they walked around the city looking for a place to eat. Tav had to settle for a six course meal, which she housed happily and they grabbed a pair of sweets from a confectionery after. They made out on the walk home, Tav eventually pulling him into someone’s side garden. “Aren’t you stuffed already, my love?” Astarion grinned, gripping her ass tightly.

“Always room for more,” she kissed him. “Do you want a drink before or after?”

“Before of course…well,” He paused. “Actually…is it safe for me to feed on you now?”

“Oh,” she stopped pulling up her skirts so he could access her thigh. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine it’s…shit.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “We have blood in the icebox at home.”

“Do you…just want to wait until we get home then?” She slid her hand up his thigh. He was still only half hard and they weren’t far from home.

“It might be a while before I get to fuck you in a public again,” he leaned against her a little more. She made a pleased noise in her throat, rubbing her hand against his cock to get it fully hard, as he began to kiss her neck. He soon knelt down, pushing up her skirt. “At least I can still taste this,” he grinned, pulling her underpants down. He took a generous lap of her as she moaned softly.

“Gods, I will never get tired of your tongue,” she trembled, gripping a handful of his curls.

“You taste even sweeter now, you know?” he looked up at her, licking his lips.

“Really?” She grinned.

“If Halsin gets a taste of you, we’ll have to pry his mouth away.”

“Or I could just stay in bed all day letting you take turns,” she gasped as he sucked on her clit. He tasted every inch of her, making her legs tremble. “Oh Gods. I need you to fuck me right now. Very, very hard.”

“I can do that,” he grinned, standing up.

“Like this,” she turned around, pushing her ass out a little, wanting it from behind. “And choke me…just a little.”

“Oh my,” he cooed, unbuttoning himself. “I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but I already know,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing his cock up and down her entrance, sliding her honey around it.

She braced herself on the stone wall, clawing her fingers into it as he pushed inside her. He knew she wanted it hard, but he still wanted to be a little gentle with her. He thrust slowly in her at first, speeding up when she began to make impatient moans.

“Mmmm, that’s right,” she purred as he fucked her a little harder. “I’m not completely fragile all of a sudden.”

“Bend over more, then,” he grinned, nipping the tip of her ear with his teeth. She bit her lip, pressing back against him, so she could, spreading her legs a little wider. He played with her hips more, testing the depth of his strokes as she made soft cries. “Are you going to be able to stay quiet enough, love?” He thrust into her hard. “If someone comes upon a vampire ravaging a pregnant woman, I’ll be dodging stakes left and right.”

“I’m working on it,” she bit down on a wad of her dress as a makeshift gag. “Now fuck me harder,” she demanded between her clench teeth.

He grinned and happily obeyed, thrusting harder into her, his balls slapping loudly against her thighs. He gripped the nape of her hair so he could pull her upright, lightly wrapping a hand around her throat, guiding her hips with the other. She continued to brace herself against the wall with one hand, the other on her clit, eager for climax.

He fucked her vigorously, choking her with a little less force than usual, overly cautious with her new condition. They came together in loud, satisfied grunts, quickly recovering themselves in case anyone got curious about the noise. He pocketed her underpants so they could make a quick getaway, cum dripping down her thighs as they made the short walk home. He undressed her when they arrived, washing her with a warm cloth before putting her to bed for the night. He found it hard to rest, however, his mind racing about their new predicament.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Thinking about Doe’s crepuscular nature in TLB’s verse. Now! Historic vampire-lore aside (given how fickle a standard it poses given the wide scope of the myth in cultures and folklore) It must be said, nature wise there is massive precedent, most predatory creatures in nature, from lions to foxes, bear, jaguars and even raccoons are crepuscular! It's not something out of the picture and it feels truly fitting!

I also find it fascinating with Doe, she gets extra time but it’s not exactly the clear cut benefit you would hope it would be. In terms of energy and wakefulness, she WILL drop off in the middle of the night, growing sluggish and seeming 'out of it', and will choose to retire to a hunting burrow or hidden alcove for a cat nap until prey passes by and she catches hint or she can muster back energy she needs to feel on the ball.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, and I recently learned about this, many crepuscular animals will alter their sleep schedule and internal circadian rhythm in response to the activity of prey and predators in the area where they’re active! Sometimes it’s to work with the competition, other times it’s following prey and sometimes it’s just a ‘human beings disrupt everything’ sort of deal but regardless I do feel this phenomenon DOES effect Doe too!

Or at least whenever she’s choosing to live in the dorm room they’ve chosen to occupy as a second base of operations and in direct and frequent contact with humans.

On that note, Doe's body and her routines won't necessarily prioritize logic over instinct when it comes to her sleep routine. I mean, let's be real, waking up extra early into possible daylight is a piss poor plan for survival. But Doe's nature is ground dwelling and burrowing, her body assumes she's underground, burrowing, and hunting from there. Following the feeling of footsteps and scents back to homes to wait until night cover has drawn. Meanwhile Doe, in actuality is often playing RA and dormroom babysitter. And on that note, even when shielded by curtains and by the shade of buildings, Doe is still, well, she's a vampire! Resistant, yes. But immune? Absolutely not, she burns out quickly and her sunburns are severe, even second hand and even running in low light has its risks. But the vulnerability is par for the course, a constant reminder of the dangers of her human-centric lifestyle and deciding to go against the long evolved instincts.

Also RE: The Janette incident, it was 1000% lowkey Doe’s fault but not due to willful negligence, she had a human-centric schedule formed around the beginning of the school year and establishing her character (or so to speak) on the campus, so when the humans were suddenly wanting to pull all nighters and party through the night. Doe couldn’t keep up, she couldn't stay vigil at the watch, and the minute she needed to be on guard and watching for intruders, she was asleep!

Frosh week is hard and by all rights there should’ve been more than just two of the girls on guard, but the others wanted to follow the party to Santa Carla and feed and Doe wasn’t gonna tell them no, she's not their mother, or their leader (god knows she doesn't want THAT responsibility)

Of course every chicken farmer gotta know: you’re gonna lose *one* to the foxes now and again, even with all the livestock guardian dogs, gizmos and gadgets. But that doesn’t make the sting of failure and the anger at the Audacity of the wayward vamp any less!

Groups of vampires are, surprisingly, often less of an issue than a single vampire because a pack gotta think about the repercussions for all members! They don’t have the ability of moving light and inconspicuously. Is a single student worth the possibility of losing one of your own? Absolutely not. But the starving half-vamps and the single survivalist vampires aren’t so easily deterred

And TRUST ME it’s absolutely the deal, Doe will say as much when she’s the person doing the confronting. You’re not welcome here, you can try to snag a few, it’s not like we have eyes EVERYWHERE but trust me, we know your faces and we WILL take one from your pack for each student you make off with.

*it should be noted, when students leave the school grounds and territory the girls consider them free game for anyone. They care little for students once they’ve strayed beyond their territory, a sort of mental transition from kept livestock to wild game, and god knows! That’s Where THEY hunt too! it’s just the school and both their territory within and around that’s barred as a hunting ground for any of the similarly afflicted vamps!

Thinking about Doe’s crepuscular nature in TLB’s verse. Now! Historic vampire-lore aside (given how fickle a standard it poses given the wide scope of the myth in cultures and folklore) It must be said, nature wise there is massive precedent, most predatory creatures in nature, from lions to foxes, bear, jaguars and even raccoons are crepuscular!

I find it fascinating with Doe, she gets extra time but it’s not exactly the clear cut benefit you would hope it would be. In terms of energy and wakefulness, she WILL drop off in the middle of the night, growing sluggish and seeming 'out of it', and will choose to retire to a hunting burrow or hidden alcove for a cat nap until prey passes by and she catches hint or she can muster back energy she needs to feel on the ball.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, and I recently learned about this, many crepuscular animals will alter their sleep schedule and internal circadian rhythm in response to the activity of prey and predators in the area where they’re active! Sometimes it’s to work with the competition, other times it’s following prey and sometimes it’s just a ‘human beings disrupt everything’ sort of deal but regardless I do feel this phenomenon DOES effect Doe too!

Or at least whenever she’s choosing to live in the dorm room they’ve chosen to occupy as a second base of operations and in direct and frequent contact with humans.

On that note, Doe's body and her routines won't necessarily prioritize logic over instinct when it comes to her sleep routine. I mean, let's be real, waking up extra early into possible daylight is a piss poor plan for survival. But Doe's nature is ground dwelling and burrowing, her body assumes she's underground, burrowing, and hunting from there. Following the feeling of footsteps and scents back to homes to wait until night cover has drawn. Meanwhile Doe, in actuality is often playing RA and dorm babysitter. And on that note, even when shielded by curtains and by the shade of buildings, Doe is still, well, she's a vampire! Resistant, yes. But immune? Absolutely not, she burns out quickly and her sunburns are severe, even second hand and even running in low light has its risks. But the vulnerability is par for the course, a constant reminder of the dangers of her human-centric lifestyle and deciding to go against the long evolved instincts.

The incident with Janette serves as a prime example of this, it WAS Doe’s fault but not due to willful negligence or oversight. Doe had a human-centric sleep schedule formed around the beginning of the school year out of need, given she needed time to establish her character (or so to speak) around the campus, so when the humans were suddenly wanting to pull all nighters and party through the night. Doe couldn’t keep up, her circaidian rhythm couldn't and wouldn't allow it. She couldn't stay vigil at the watch with so many people coming and going between open house style dorm parties, and the minute she needed to be on guard and watching for intruders, she was asleep!

Frosh week is hard and by all rights there should’ve been more than just two of the girls on guard, but the others wanted to follow the party to Santa Carla and feed and Doe wasn’t gonna tell them no, she's not their mother, or their leader (god knows she doesn't want THAT responsibility)

Of course every chicken farmer gotta know: you’re gonna lose *one* to the foxes now and again, even with all the livestock guardian dogs, gizmos and gadgets. But that doesn’t make the sting of failure and the anger at the Audacity of the wayward vampire any less!

SIDENOTE: Groups of vampires are, surprisingly, often less of an issue than a single vampire because a pack gotta think about the repercussions for all members! They don’t have the ability of moving light and inconspicuously. Is a single student worth the possibility of losing one of your own? Absolutely not. But the starving half-vamps and the single survivalist vampires aren’t so easily deterred

And TRUST ME it’s absolutely the deal, Doe will say as much when she’s the person doing the confronting. You’re not welcome here, you can try to snag a few, it’s not like we have eyes EVERYWHERE but trust me, we know your faces and we WILL take one from your pack for each student you make off with.

Doe's philosophy, and by extension the philosophy of the Belles is simple: students are welcome within their territory, come and go as they please, do whatever! but once they venture beyond the school's grounds and the territory, they become fair game for anyone. The girls consider themselves "livestock" keepers within their territory, but beyond that boundary, they transform into hunters. This mental transition is a crucial aspect of their nature and the pack mentality they have going.

[cvrseduser]

@trelonkan a demandé : "You're becoming quite the bothersome little fly, aren't you ?" Kenjaku talks, but to whom ? No one is around, their silhouette standing alone in the brightly lit metro. Yet what others don't see is the shared presence within the mind, aggravating and growing louder since Gojo Satoru's sealing; they need to find a way to hush his voice permanently lest they briefly lose control of the puppeteered body anew. "Did it trouble you seeing him like that, knowing your efforts were in vain ? How... tragic." // u_u

Suguru had died. That was all he remembered, and that was all he needed to remember. Satoru’s last words to him had lit a weak light within him, the last flickering ember of a dying fire, and then… Darkness.

Infinite and numbing darkness. 

Suguru didn’t know he could even be aware of it, as he wasn’t supposed to. Regardless, sometimes he was, and others, not as much. He could feel it enveloping him, drowning him. Sometimes, like a thick fog in his mind that made him simply not want to be aware of it, and down in it he allowed himself to go. Drifting, in and out. 

Sometimes, the very tips of his fingers tingled. Something echoed in his head, loud and unintelligible, but familiar. It was his own voice, he recognised, although not spoken by himself. Odd, as it was himself speaking and yet he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, or what was going on. Whenever he tried to open his eyes, it was so dark he wasn’t sure he had even managed to, and so he’d close them again and let go.

Sleep… Ever dormant. 

« It’s about time for you to wake up. »

A voice he’d recognise anywhere, even in death. It called to him, and his fingers tingled until the sensation travelled all the way up his arms, until he became aware of his own body after such a long time of immaterial, abstract existence. He was, again, if only because he was called by his voice. 

« How long will you keep letting it have its way with you, Suguru ? »

It all came to him like a train crashing into him. Memories, not his, although seen through his own eyes : his family, his daughters, his own body profaned by a sorcerer older than time. The scheming, the curses... 

Satoru.

Right before his eyes, staring unwaveringly into this body that wasn’t his anymore, right into him.

A pathetic attempt at stopping his own body regardless of the consequences — Suguru was already dead, after all. However, he was still much too weak, and Satoru was sealed and Suguru pushed once again to the back of his own mind.

Except, this time, he was awake.

With this newfound consciousness, Suguru became all too aware of this violation not only to his body, but his soul, too. And now that the brain pulling the strings of his body was aware of his presence, he was being taunted. Mocked by feelings so strong he didn’t even have a name for, seared into a body now being manipulated by somebody else, carried and felt and stolen. Used and desecrated.

Suguru felt an indescribable rage not ever felt by his body yet, and so he hoped that this new feeling was his alone, and that the sorcerer inhabiting his body wouldn’t be able to take it from him like he had everything else.

« You are quite the fool if you think you can keep him in that box for long. You couldn’t even pick it up, could you ? » He asked, clicking his tongue in a tut. « You underestimate him. And me, too, » his voice was low, threatening. 

« I believe the only tragedy here is that it's taken me this long, and that I won’t let you off so easy now, Kenjaku. »

[idolsummons]

Depression to Despair (Tez Couldn't Think of a Better Title)

Finally wrote the drabble about Ren bearing witness to an elder god summoning, enjoy ♥

Trigger warnings for depression, suicidal ideation, etc.

Note: I don't have depression or suicidal ideation, which features as a theme in this drabble. This was written for fun and not any kind of serious piece delving into the mindset of humans, what have you.

[Ren] wanna come over 2nite? Been working on a song

[Hana] I’d love to but I’ve already got something else on, sorry! :(

[Hana] Maybe tomorrow?

[Ren] yeah no prob

[Ren] what’s 2nite?

[Hana] Dinner with another idol and her manager, and my manager, get to know each other kinda thing. Thinking about a collab.

[Ren] have fun

[Hana] I’d have more fun at a dinner if it wasn’t for my strict diet lol

[Ren] gotta let lose sometimes

[Ren] go enjoy yourself

[Hana] Thanks, I’ll try to keep that in mind :) 

[Hana] See you tomorrow! <3

[Ren] see ya

Ren set his phone down on his bedside table.

There is no dinner.

She’s trying to spare my feelings but I know how she really feels.

She hates me. Why would anyone like Hana like a pathetic excuse of a human like me? It was stupid to ever try to get in touch in the first place. I should just stay out of everyone’s way and keep to myself.

Better yet, I should just -

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Ren grumbles. He rubs his hands over his face. It doesn’t help to get rid of the thoughts, but it’s better than doing nothing.

From the ground comes a gentle miaow. He removes his hands from his face and sees a familiar fluffy face.

‘Dinner time already, Jiji?’ The black cat meows again.

Ren gets up and proceeds to the kitchen, where he’s finally, after much rubbing up against his legs like she’s trying to make him fall, able to give Jiji her dinner consisting of raw meat. She starts eating straight away, paying no mind to Ren going outside to light up a cigarette.

Just hold on for one more night.

***

[Hana] Hey Ren! :) 

[Hana] Sorry about last night, you still free tonight?

[Ren] yeah

[Ren] still wanna come over?

[Hana] Yep!

[Ren] awesome

[Ren] come whenever u want

[Ren] anything u want 4 dinner?

[Hana] No thanks, I’ll eat before I leave :) 

[Ren] k

[Ren] see u soon

Despite his kind offer to cook (it might be that Hana refused the offer because he’s not the best chef out there), Ren himself does not eat; it would be too much of a hassle. Besides, Hana’s visiting has given him just enough energy to finally clean up. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but clothes and various things have been strewn about without much care, and a thin layer of dust covers much of the furniture. He might not have time to clean everything, but he will do what he can.

***

Regardless of whether or not she’s singing those pop songs with mass appeal, Hana has a beautiful voice. Yes, it does seem to have been trained with pop music in mind - he would never ask her to sing rock, not that that’s his style - but he feels she could easily branch out into similar genres was she so minded. So enthralled with her performance is he (as he is every time) that Ren near forgets to stop the recording once she’s finished singing.

‘How’s that?’ Hana asks as she removes her headphones. Her cheery smile has Ren’s stomach twisting into knots. ‘That’s what you had in mind, yeah?’

‘Mind giving me a moment to listen back?’

‘Go for it.’ Hana takes her seat beside Ren.

Ren begins to hum after listening to the short recording a few times. ‘Almost,’ he replies, ‘but I’m gonna have to think about it. If I send you some notes overnight, would you come back tomorrow?’

‘Absolutely. I suppose I shouldn’t keep you then.’

‘You can stay for a while longer if you want. I don’t usually sleep till late anyway.’

Hana checks her phone. ‘It’s already 9, and I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Better get some rest, y’know?’

‘Sure.’

Both Hana and Ren stand. They move from Ren’s small home recording studio to the front door.

‘I had fun tonight,’ says Hana. She wraps her arms around Ren, who reciprocates the embrace. He finds it difficult to let go, but doesn’t want to make the situation awkward. Once his arms are no longer around her, Ren opens the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow!’

‘See ya.’ Ren manages a small smile as Hana looks back to wave farewell.

She only comes here because she pities me.

Ren closes the door.

You think the most popular idol in the country doesn’t have better people to hang out with?

He moves to the bathroom.

I’m just some loser wishing I can make a living off my music, and that doesn’t seem likely.

He opens the cabinet and grabs a bottle of antidepressants. He holds the bottle tight in his hand for some time. He looks at the other medications - painkillers, mostly - which sit within the cabinet.

Why shouldn’t I grab all of these and just -

‘She’ll be back tomorrow.’

Ren removes the lid from the bottle and takes what he requires and nothing more. He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes the door.

***

[Hana] I’m really, really sorry Ren

[Hana] Something’s come up today. I won’t be able to make it to yours tonight.

[Hana] (┬┬﹏┬┬)

[Ren] don’t stress

[Ren] it’s fine

[Hana] Tomorrow for sure, yeah? :) 

[Hana] It’s a Saturday and I don’t have any shows so it’ll be fine!

[Hana] Unless they spring something on me last moment lol

[Ren] haha

[Ren] that’d be cruel

[Hana] Yeah lol

[Ren] c u tomorrow then

[Hana] Have a good day! :) 

After feeding Jiji, Ren returns to bed and does not move for the rest of the day, save to give the cat her dinner. His thoughts consume him, with only one ray of light shining through it all.

There’s always tomorrow.

***

[Hana] Ren you’re gonna hate me.

[Ren] they sprung a surprise show on u?

[Hana] Thankfully not that but

[Hana] I have something really important that came up last minute and I won’t be done in time to get to your place.

[Hana] And I know, it’s a Saturday, it’s fine to stay up late this once, but I promised to spend time with my family tomorrow and if I don’t get up early to go to church with them, my parents won’t be happy :( 

[Ren] you’re a busy person

[Ren] things like this happen

[Hana] You’re so understanding, I don’t deserve a friend like you <3

[Hana] I’d love to set a time aside but I can’t really do that because…

[Hana] Well, you’ve seen what’s happened these past few days :( 

[Ren] I’m home in the afternoons anyway

[Ren] just lemme know when u are coming and I’ll wait for u

[Hana] Thank you sooooo much <3

[Hana] (✿◠‿◠)

She’s making up excuses so she doesn’t have to see me. Even Miyu’s not so busy that she can’t set down a date. She’s done this so she never has to see you again. She’ll stop talking to you and then you won’t have a friend in the world.

What will be the point of it all then?

Ren manages to get out of bed. He gets dressed, but only barely, throwing on nothing but a basic shirt (it used to fit, but is now a size too big) and tracksuit pants.

Jiji sleeps happily upon her bed in the sun.

She’ll never notice.

Ren leaves via the front door.

He won’t be coming back.

***

There’s always people on the beach, even in this colder weather, whether playing around or walking their dogs. He’s used the hours to reflect - on himself, his life, those who have been closest to him over the years, on her. Every time he’s come to the same conclusion.

It’s pointless.

Nobody cares.

They won’t notice if you’re gone.

The sun is down before the beach is clear.

He walks down to the shore, stopping short of where the waves brush against his shoes.

The shoes are removed and placed beside him.

With one last deep breath, Ren begins to walk towards the depths.

He takes one look back at everything. At the sand, at the buildings in the distance, at…

‘Hana?’

Despite the fact that only the moon lights the beach, it’s impossible to miss her. Even were it not for the styling of her hair, purple streak on display, but he recognises her from her very build. Something seemingly bundled up is in her hands while she rushes across the beach, paying no mind to the man who stands knee deep in ocean water.

See? She’s not busy. She just didn’t want to spend time with you.

No, that’s not it. What’s she doing here? What’s she holding?

Ren waits until some distance has come between them and begins to follow behind her. His shoes remain at the shore.

It’s some 10 minutes before Hana and Ren arrive at the destination at the end of the beach. Ren keeps himself hidden within some shrubbery nearby; he does not wish to disturb whatever it is she’s doing.

Hana places her belongings on the sandy ground, save for the fabric which he had previously thought to be what kept her items bundled up; rather, it’s a robe which she dons rather quickly.

A pole - or so it seems to be from a distance - is taken from her belongings, and Hana begins to draw something in the sand. From his distance and viewpoint, Ren can’t begin to guess at what it might be.

Once complete, Hana picks up a book - better described as a tome for its size - and flips it open. She seems to look between the book and her drawing for a little while until she nods to herself. She must be satisfied with whatever she’s done.

Hana looks up into the sky, and Ren does, too. All he sees there is the moon. He’s not sure what kind of importance it plays in her task, but Ren observes Hana looking up at the moon for a while longer.

When she is finally done looking at the moon, she looks back towards her handiwork and dons a hood

She flips through the pages of her book once more and begins to say something. Ren isn’t sure what, but it seems almost like a chant.

Despite not being able to hear what she’s saying or see what she’s drawn, Ren feels a tightening in his stomach. It’s not the kind he feels when spending time with Hana, nor when he receives a message from her. It’s an unease which isn’t common to him, for unease is oft replaced with depression, and depression usually comes with a feeling of emptiness which he’s all too familiar with.

It’s what brought him here this night, after all.

Rather, he gets the feeling he should run, that he should forget all that he has seen here, but his overwhelming curiosity keeps him planted on the spot. He wants to know what Hana is doing, what was so important that she didn’t wish to spend time with someone she was so adamant is her friend.

When Hana finishes chanting, nothing happens. He begins to ponder if this was all just some strange kind of rehearsal, maybe she got a part in a show or a movie and is trying to get into character, or maybe -

A dark light explodes from Hana’s drawing in the sand.

‘What the fuck?’ Ren says too loudly, like he was expecting the explosion of light to be accompanied by an appropriate amount of sound.

Hana looks back. Her eyes are wide.

‘Ren?’ Her mouth is ajar. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

He doesn’t have time to ask any questions, nor time to even formulate such things in his mind. Before he can so much as blink the light dissipates, leaving behind something which Ren does not remember.

The last thing he does remember is darkness.

***

‘It was probably another suicide attempt.’

Ren does not open his eyes. Along with the wavering voice of his mother, obviously trying so hard not to cry, Ren can hear the gentle beeps of a heart rate monitor.

‘This wouldn’t be the first time… but usually he’s not - he -’

‘He’s been talking in his sleep,’ says an unfamiliar voice. ‘Do you know if that’s normal?’

‘Oh…’ his mother mumbles. ‘About what?’

‘We couldn’t really make any sense of it. Something hideous, taller than the trees…’

Ren’s eyes shoot open.

‘It’s coming.’

His mother and the unfamiliar woman - a doctor or a nurse - looks over.

‘Ren!’ His mother rushes to his bedside. She puts a hand to his forehead, rubbing her thumb over his skin. ‘What is it, baby?’

‘That… That thing.’ He speaks quickly, to the point where his words become jumbled. ‘It came from the beach, and - and it devoured the moon.’

The staff furrows her brow.

Ren’s mother stops the motion with her thumb. ‘What is it? You can tell me.’

‘You won’t… you won’t understand. I don’t understand, Mum. It was… was everywhere but nowhere, not of this world…’

‘You just had a bad dream is all. It’s okay, Mum’s here now.’

‘No, no, it wasn’t a dream. I saw it.’

Silence fills the room for too long, before his mother finally speaks up. ‘One of your friends wanted to see you, too. She seemed quite keen about it, too. I’ll wait outside and come back once she’s done, okay?’ She tries a kind smile, but her eyes are filled with tears. ‘I’ll get you something to eat from the cafe.’

Ren’s mother and the staff leave the room. The one who enters next is…

‘No.’ But the word does not leave his mouth. ‘No, no, no, no, no.’

‘Ren.’ Hana’s voice is shaky. She kneels beside his bed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…’ Tears flowing down her cheeks are followed by sobbing.

‘Get out,’ he says, but it’s unclear whether the words reach her ears or not. ‘Get out!’

Though Hana remains, crying and apologising and desperately trying to make it all up to him, Ren has never felt more alone in his life.

Anguish and despair are his only roommates, his only bedfellows, his only headmates.

It feels that this will last an eternity, beyond even his demise.

Ending this suffering would be a mercy, but ending it all is no longer a present thought.

All that remains is the fuzziness of the night prior and what will surely be a lifetime of madness.

[mad-hunts]

From @divingdownthehole, because Tumblr’s side blog features annoy me, and I don’t want to broadcast my personal blog here.

💤 and 💯?

hello, @divingdownthehole! forgive me for taking so long to get back to you on this, but yesss, i totally agree with you on tumblr's side blog features being... well, stupid, if i'm being honest haha. but lets get right into this now, shall we? so, whenever it comes to whether barton is a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper, i feel like he is most definitely the former. and part of this might be due to the fact that, since you are technically a lot more vulnerable when you're sleeping, barton's sense of hypervigilance kind of prevents him from remaining asleep through pretty much anything like a heavy sleeper would. i will probably talk more about why he experiences it later, but for now, just know that it has a lot to do with his past. specifically when he was still with his biological father, wesley. as sad as it may sound, barton basically conditioned himself to be able to wake up at any particularly loud noise, like footsteps or the sound of someone crying, because he was sometimes afraid that he might not wake up the next day due to how monstrous wesley truly was.

and this carried on through him well into his adulthood by both influencing him to stay as a light sleeper in addition to him keeping a knife underneath his pillow and / or keeping it somewhere where he could easily access it if he was in danger. so, if there is one thing that you should know about barton, it's that he does not trust people easily whatsoever and he can be quite paranoid about people's 'real' intentions sometimes. other than that, though, barton's sleeping habits are honestly very unbalanced. he has gone through several periods in his life where he only slept a few hours every night and would be dead-tired in the morning because of it; however, most of the time, barton believes that he can't really help it. it's night time whenever he really begins to think about his life and this part of him that desires to receive some sort of punishment for everything he's done to other people typically emerges.

because at the end of the day, i feel like barton knows well that he is a terrible person in more ways than one and so he'll do the only thing he can do: which is to cry. but regardless of what commonly keeps him up at night... nowadays, barton is more in flux between either sleeping too much or sleeping too little. so as i've said, his sleeping habits are very unbalanced and people like his kids have pointed it out to him before, but no matter how much he tries to change it — he just seems to fall into the same old habits of either feeling so depressed that all he wants to do is sleep all day or not being able to go to sleep in the first place for a while because his thoughts are racing. but ooh... okay, emi, i'm going to start off the three random facts with quite the doozy to lift the mood a little bit.

barton knows how to knit and if you are close to him, expect to receive at least some sort of gloves / scarf / blanket from him, because he LOVES to do it as well. i guess it may be due to a mix of him finding it relaxing in a way and him figuring that he probably could use being able to indulge in a hobby that has nothing to do with his persona as the dollmaker. but yeah, barton has been doing that for some time now, actually. another fact that you may not know about him is that he also likes to hunt and i don't mean in the way that he kills people. barton has taken to engaging in things like deer hunting, bird hunting, and the occasional fox-hunt / coyote hunt. thus... barton usually has at least some venison hanging around his house, either in a dried form or in the fridge, just waiting to be cooked. his reasons behind hunting are usually either for meat, the fact that during it you're very immersed in nature, and because it gives him this alone time that he sometimes craves that is invaluable.

now, as for the last fact that you may not know about barton, it's that he often has one night of the week designated to doing some sort of activity with his family. and this kind of highlights just how contradictory he can be in regards to what his values are regarding family + the fact that he often doesn't treat his children that well. because during these nights, barton is arguably at his most agreeable and genuinely wants his kids to be having fun with him. so they often end up doing things like playing cards or having a movie marathon with each other. so yeah. that about wraps up my answer for this ask, but i hoped you liked it, emi!

[sageafk]

Bingo: virus, marriage, mechanical keyboard

enjoy some blatant fem dnf pre-Florida 

---

It’s entirely too late, or maybe it’s too early—there’s a haze in the sky that's evident of pre-dawn, but she knows neither of them have slept yet. It’s been difficult to manage time passing, rather than meals and sleeping periods being the markers for days, they’re whenever Claire leaves the call. Ever since Grace’s visa was declined, Claire hasn’t left her alone. The discord logo lights up her monitors with a number nearing the triple digits, steadily increasing. 

It’s been harder than ever, recently. Moving in with your best friend is supposed to be easy, regardless of the thousands of miles stretched between them. But then there were applications and denials and Covid and now Grace just wants to cry. 

It was at the tip of her fingers. Claire was just one touch away. Now, ripped apart, she feels like a shell of who she was. 

Her desk is littered with papers, things she had printed out from her mom’s shoddy printer in the back room. There are a lot of bolded words that talk about do’s and don’t’s of things she had thought she’d followed but apparently not. The most recent denial letter sits on her second monitor, coating her face in a red shine that she’d never want to share in the company of Claire. 

“I just don’t get it,” falls from her lips. She’s not sure when the last time her face changed. So far from the happy girl that Claire knows her as. Grace just doesn’t know what to do. She wants to give up. 

She wants to give up.

“I thought I did everything right. I don’t understand where I went wrong.”

“Sometimes they do that, G,” Claire mumbles, her mouth obscured by her hand. Grace wants to give up but how could she when she knows every single mannerism, every moment of the other even when she doesn’t have her camera on? “They’re, like, I don’t know, picky? They want to be careful of who they let into the country.”

“It’s dumb.” Grace feels her eyes dampen and she rolls them so hard they hurt. She’s spent too long crying over this in the last couple of days, and she knows that if she keeps going over it the more she’s going to hate herself. She brushes her tears away with the back of her hand: she wouldn’t be surprised if her skin is bruised. “What am I going to do? It’s not like I’m going to blow everything up.”

Claire laughs softly, chokes on a cough before settling down again. Claire never gets sick and yet here she is, borderline bedridden and alone in another country without her friend or her family to help her deal with it. This year’s been harsh, everything piling up on top of each other, and the nail that is Grace’s stability keeps getting hit on the head as thing after another impacts her life, and her and Claire’s relationship. 

The ugly monster of selfishness crawls underneath her skin. “How are you feeling today?” She asks softly, like raising her voice will cause either one of them to go down some sort of spiral again. 

“As good as someone with Covid can.” Claire blows her nose and groans afterward, then Grace hears it heavily slap against the desk, no doubt into a pile of pre-used tissues that have accumulated over the duration of their call. “The clinic said this was the new strand, Delta, I think? I’m so special I get the new strand.”

“That’s so dumb,” Grace laughs, fiddling with a hole in her sweatpants. “You don’t even leave your house and you get all the good stuff.”

“It’s just the joys of Door Dash, G.” Claire shuffles around, probably adjusting her position so her bones don’t ache as much. She’d said it wasn’t as bad as she was expecting it to be, but she complains about her muscles aching and feeling so heavy wherever she is. Grace can’t remember the last time she ate, and when she had she’d talked about her nausea, her lack of appetite, the pain it caused her head. Now, she fluctuates between her cushioned, reclined gaming chair and her bed to stay on the phone with Grace. She knows that if her visa didn’t decline, Claire would have slept through the entirety of her sickness. She’s a good friend. A really, really, good friend. 

“Maybe it’s not so bad that you… couldn’t come,” Claire says delicately, like if she says ‘decline’ the floodgates would open again. To be fair, they probably would. Grace isn’t normally emotional, prefers to bottle everything up and never talk about it, but this is something that can’t be stored. She tears her heart out into little pieces over a red mark on pre-signed papers. “‘Cause I’m sick. I’d be all snotty and then you’d want to move out straight away.”

Move out implies that she’d be moving in. She knows this, of course she does. There’s a room in Claire's house with a blue-made bed that has a welcome pack prepared and placed on the foot. Grace wonders how many cobwebs have formed on it, whether the blanket Claire had crocheted still smells like her perfume or if it’s been too long. In their calls, when she shows Grace, the room looks cold, unlived in. She supposes that’s because it is, but there’s no ‘almost’ about that room. Is it even hers?

Grace hums, not wanting to commit to an answer. She’s not sure what she would say that isn’t horribly telling. She just wants everything to fall into place, she wants them to settle beside each other and only be brought apart to be put back together. 

Claire huffs and her chair squeaks as she sits herself up. Grace slumps back in hers as she hears the stupid clacking noise of Claire’s horrible mechanical keyboard while she types something. It’s white with RGB lights that were programmed to flash as she clicked them, entirely too advanced for the Walmart-branded base they were on. More often than not they black out and the lights don’t turn on at all, sometimes it disconnects from her PC even though they’re plugged in. They make so much noise, Grace supposes it’s what you get when you buy a mechanical keyboard for $20 from a supermarket, but it’s so impossibly Claire Grace can’t really complain. In the last 4 days, it’s been the only source of comfort, the repetitive non-smooth clacking as she types a thousand words a minute at some idiot on Discord. 

The clicks peter out for a second, before picking up again, faster than before, repetitive with many spaces in-between the words. She’s never seen them, but Grace imagines her fingers as she types. Does she paint her nails? Does she wear rings? If she does—what about her left hand? Is there space there for a ring that only Grace could give her?

“Check your email,” she says suddenly, and her chair squeaks again as she lowers herself back. She’s panting slightly, and there’s a short pang of bad going through Grace’s spine at the fact that Claire exhausted herself for her. She clears her throat and leans forward, clicking out of the nasty email that hasn’t left her screen in days, and navigates to the main page. There are hundreds of unread emails from the past few days, many subscription services or promotions from websites, but the top one is from Claire with a smiley face as the subject line and every anxiety melts from her. 

She opens it and furrows her brows. 

“This means a lot to you, yeah?” Claire asks, and it’s heard over a tapping on the desk. “Like, a lot. Me too.”

“Yeah,” Grace breathes, because really, what else is she supposed to do? “What does—”

“Do you want to get married?”

Grace bursts out laughing, the bubble exploding out of her throat and erupting before she even gets a chance to think about being polite and hiding it. Claire just sits in silence, not responding. 

“Dear, god! Thank you, Claire. I needed that laugh, oh my god.”

“I’m being serious, G,” Claire mumbles, and the tapping stops. It’s still in the call for a beat, not enough for it to really mean anything. That doesn’t stop Grace from overthinking. “We could get married. They keep denying your visa but if we get married you can get your green card and you can live here. You can stay here.”

“We aren’t together, Claire. Don’t we need to be dating before we get married?” Grace hums, but tries not to let her emotions bleed into her voice. This isn’t a topic she’d expect she’d be having with Claire. Maybe about other people but not about each other. 

“It doesn’t have to be real.” It’s quiet. “It can just be for convenience. So you can get here. We can divorce in a year or something so it’s not suspicious if you want.”

If you want. What if Grace doesn’t want to?

“You’re serious?” Grace doesn’t know what’s funnier: how outlandish Claire’s proposal was, or the fact that she’s already considering it. She feels a little selfish like she’s playing house and manipulating her feelings. “You don’t even like girls, Claire.”

Claire is uncharacteristically quiet. For a long time. The silence kind of sounds like nights locked inside her room, sounds like careful eyes looking down in the locker room, sounds like staying up too late and looking up ‘Am I gay?’. It sounds a bit too familiar to something Grace has already gone through. 

“Claire?”

“I’m sick, Grace.” Claire mumbles, and Grace can picture a soju red flush on her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Grace notes how she didn’t say that she isn’t thinking right. She means this, it’s not something that’s just randomly come out. Has she thought about this before? Has she typed this very email many times before, with the hope that Grace will accept? Is this the way that she tells her that she’s gay? That she loves Grace the same way she loves Claire?

No. It can’t be. Don’t be an idiot. 

“Think about it, okay?” Claire sighs and it seems further away, like she’s sunken further into her chair. Grace clicks on the links that Claire had emailed her and saves them to her bookmarks bar, typing out some half-assed name for them that she hopes she won’t cringe at the lovey-dovey-ness when she’s not so in her feelings about everything. She wonders if Claire can hear the affection and fondness drip from smooth Gatreon Reds. “I… I need you here. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Grace melts. If only everything could be easy. If only this stupid virus was gone and she could fly over and hug her, buy her a new keyboard just to keep the last one for sentimentality. 

Tomorrow is another day, whenever tomorrow happens. 

Now, she indulges her. “Would you wear a dress?”

Claire giggles, covers her face with her hand for a beat. “You’re an idiot, G.” The mood lifts, and for the first time in a while, there’s something good in the air. The call isn’t filled with anxiety and dull-toned clicks. “Only if you do.”

[nightcall99]

Notes from 3.4.24

I lived today and it was fine. Maybe it was more than fine, maybe this is what living is. Maybe the Earth orbiting around the Sun in a never-ending cycle, and the barrage of sleep-wake-sleep-wake, and endless script following, Maybe This Is All I've Got.

I was at a red traffic light yesterday and I keep thinking about this kid I saw. He must have been around 10 year old, with mussed-up brown hair and a broad face. As this single car zoomed past, I saw him with his head stuck out the window, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. What struck me was his expression, because he looked high. To be honest, he might have had some kind of intellectual disability or something but regardless, this kid was high on life and it stuck out to me. His joyousness left behind a kind of scent trail, like after someone wearing strong perfume has left the room. The zap of energy leaving behind a wake. At that moment, I might have been a rock disturbed deeper and merged more thoroughly, into the sullen landscape of cars and road and soullessness. I didn't like it.

That moment felt like the start of something, and as reluctant as I am to admit it, it started before then and I was only just then realising it. I don't know what trajectory my life is heading in anymore and I haven't been wondering about it. Ok, I did a little. But today, I lived in the moment and I have a sneaking suspicion, or rather I know, that that was the point. I want to bury all this but in doing so, I walk straight into the palm of whatever this is. The truth, I guess. Time will tell. I think the reason why you sensed that she and I are parting somewhat energetically, of a sort, is because I used to talk to her more often, and now I don't anymore. Talking to her felt volatile (I think just from my end) and after awhile, low-vibe, because I was tired of feeling washed-out and re-imprinted with something new, time and time again, despite the purpose it served. I wanted to go my own way. I wanted to know things on my own. But I don't seem to have a choice in the matter, as if we aren't fingers on the same hand. As if we hadn't met for this one express reason. I still feel that it was a bit dodgy and unfortunate that this information wasn't divulged sooner through our own intel. But I said it myself not long ago, that I am the ninja that sneaks into the museum at night and changes all the pictures. I don't want to act shocked anymore. Any semblance of shock would be better described as simply the sudden appearance of goosebumps that one might get on their skin, when plunging into cold water. It's just a reaction on skin. The energy can change over night. Even though this information was probably procured some time ago, there is no time, right? It goes how we want it to go. Maybe we're adrenaline junkies. I've always felt there to be something rogue-ish about us.

Even as I write this I know what is happening. I can feel it, it is percolating through. I am accepting this. I do feel like I am 'here' more, whatever that means. I feel different but also the same, and definitely more powerful. I could slash someone's tires if they so much as looked at me wrong. I believe I have cracked too. I must have experienced that dream as your HS because it was also telling me, about me. Because our higher selves are intertwined. And I know that we are all one, so maybe it would be more accurate to say that our NPCs are intertwined, and the high selves leverage that, like some sweet poison and we lap it up. I dunno, I guess I'll speak for myself more than anything but I had that dream the day before we got notified of what is going on and now I feel that energy of that dream in waking life. It is trickling through.

More on that. So you know, whenever I get home, the dog is always barking at me and I will dodge it or walk by leaving a huge radius between it and I. But yesterday, I made all the motions of getting close and kicking it. I wouldn't really have done it, or maybe I would, I don't know. Mostly, I wanted to scare it away. And it was less about it, and more that I am a volcano and lava goes, where it goes. It was like your HS in the dream, I could feel this fight inside me but it wasn't born from hatred. It does not even come with like, the desire to live, even. I've pulled the sword from the stone and this is the part in the story where the hero, having roused his mind and might, is to wield that glory and embed it into the land itself, for the goodness of the realm. But the masks are off now. There is no world. I want to tear it all down. Blacksmiths make swords because they inherently know it is for destroying things. That's why they work in silence. They are whispering to the sword, begging for impunity. So now what? I am unleashed and Source did so in silence. Because it knew. There is no more tolerance for anything. Last week, my sister asked me to drive her and her boyfriend to the airport and I begrudgingly agreed. The story goes probably that I still resent her from the events of a few weeks ago and I despise that she asks me these things, knowing full well that I will do it. But beyond all that, I just didn't care. I just kept thinking to myself, Well I don't want to. And then the day of, she got it into her head somehow, that my mum had told her that I wasn't able to after all. But my mum never told her anything. I never said anything to my mum. My sister completely imagined a whole conversation. My dad ended up giving her some taxi vouchers he got for free from work. My mum ended up saying to me, Don't entertain it. It is the man's (her bf) job to take care of these things. What's the point of a man?

It feels like the world needs to submit to me or die. It will end up being both though, because the submitting won't be enough for me, it's just one stage, or shall I say, the last stage, before it takes one last breath and finally dies. I await that day. I do. Until then, I don't know. This energy is very strange. I deem it not applicable to 3D world building because I thought about getting a new job, a mortgage, getting a boyfriend, re-connecting with my friends, all of that, and the energy didn't want to siphon into those things. Into what then, I don't know. I don't care.

I'll keep writing here. Coming back here has been very necessary for me because it's very much a part of Maybe This Is All I've Got. At least we're in this together. Sometimes it feels like you mostly exist within my subconscious. Our experiences of each other seem so abstract yet vivid, like you're the narrator inside my head that I forgot was there. I just don't think this is the end. Not yet.

[obsoleteozymandias]

gay man lookin for a marvel matchup here!

20, he/they, kinda shaggy black hair, pasty lil white boy, brown eyes, 5'4, kind of a pathetic twink. i wear glasses. average outfit would be all black, sweater, skinny jeans, big stompy boots, and an assload of rings and necklaces- i guess one could describe it as like, the dress of a comfy elder emo. but i really want to incorporate dark academia into that mix. i'm a silver jewelery kind of guy, my fave color is black/blue/purple and my favorite crystal is iolite. i'm very picky about textiles and the feel of things.

my music taste is pretty much 80's-2010s rock, divorced dad rock, 2000's-2010's pop, and country, but i'm quite picky about country - i enjoy rascal flatts and carrie underwood, as well as musical theatre. my favorite musical is jekyll and hyde :)

i'm a huge nerd, especially when it comes to dnd, lord of the rings, horror, and various other types of media, and my favorite thing is getting people into them. if I've met someone who has never watched lotr, or perhaps never listened to black sabbath? brace yourself. i'm the type to infodump through a movie, and i enjoy others doing the same. tell me everything that goes on in your mind, you know? watch me hold it up to the light and be unfazed.

i also enjoy history and classic literature, and will infodump about queer undertones in it. all this to say, i'm just very passionate about things. especially space. i also collect! i collect many things - bottles, trinkets, jewelry, crystals, animal bones, things pertaining to my interests. my room reflects my mind- cohesive in its own way, but cluttered, spacey.

i'm creative, kind of a dreamer with their head in the clouds, my goals are in the stars but i have the know-how to make them happen. cap sun, aries moon, Leo rising, intp, generally quite shy until i get over the mortifying concept of being known, then i swing wildly between pure chaos and complete catatonic, like a pendulum. academically i work under unbridled spite and determination. when i ask what people like about me, they say i'm funny, inspiring, charming, and gifted in creativity. i'm an artist, a writer. they say that i'm good at reading and profiling people. i enjoy looking at people's natal charts not as a way of judgement, but as a way to look into them as a person.

that being said i try my best to make others happy, even if at the expense of myself. i tend to be neglectful of myself in that regard, both physically and mentally. i struggle from a lot of mental health issues that involve severe dissociation and memory loss, so luckily, i have some coping tools under my belt, but i'm unable to recall past events both short and long term, so i keep a list of the things i love about people so i never forget them- forgetting the people i love is a fear of mine, as well as heights, and the ocean, and large crowds. i also struggle with sleep issues, paranoia and anxiety. i try to handle these things on my own, lest i bother someone with them. it's difficult to both ask and receive help. through complicated reasons, i'm familiar with the concept of guilt and shame. i know more than most how it feels like necrosis rotting away at your insides, and i know that it one day will subside into a dull ache in the back of your head. i also suffer from chronic back pain and migraines. my main vice is anything that will fuzz my brain and help me escape for a little while. i'm working on that, working on staying grounded, but it's hard. if someone was capable of noticing and pulling me out, i'd be forever theirs. i'm also horrifically terrible at confrontation and shut down whenever it happens.

my taste in men kind of feeds into my martyr complex 😭 i'm the type to go "i can fix him." except i'd also love them regardless of the mental state and position they're in, because i myself would have wanted that as well. if i could love someone through it all and be a bit of relief, that's all i'd be satisfied with. i want the fire and passion, but i also want to be their peace. i connect to the broken minds because i know what that's like, in a sense. i think i just crave understanding, i want someone to know me, and WANT to know me in the way i go out of my way to understand others. i want to receive, not just give. i want reciprocation, i want, i yearn, i desire, all in my head. that being said romantically i tend to NOT gravitate towards golden retriever types- they're always my besties, though!

i hope this all makes sense. i tend to ramble on like a madman. good luck, and godspeed o7

This was like reading the odyssey my guy i had to stop and reread things multiple times (/pos)

== Marvel ==>

I match you up with…

Bruce Banner (This one was very mixed for me, so I did my best)

Yeah you can fix him (but you can also love him how he is). 

When you mention connecting best with broken minds, a lot of marvel men came to mind, but I think Bruce is a special sort. He’s someone who feels so strongly that he literally broke himself, and I think he’d need someone like you, and you him. 

I think you’d relax him with your music and sense of passion. He’d love listening to dad rock with you while you regale him with paragraphs upon paragraphs of your interests. 

The two of you definitely have LOTR movie marathons monthly, and you’ll both feel a calm that seems unreal.

Waking up afterwards with limbs twisted together and bathed in warmth, it’s such a nice change of pace from the turmoil. 

You easily become one of the people who calms him down when he’s enraged or hulked out. 

In turn, he’s the one who writes little reminders of dates and people for you, and always leaves a note telling you how much he loves you on the bedside drawer. 

He’ll also find comfort in your art, and you’ll find it plastered everywhere around you shared house. He sets anything you make as his phone background, and just looking at it fills him with love. 

[cassifiction]

Care – arcane women/reader

Characters: Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Jinx, g/n reader

How they would react to you feeling unwell and how they would help you feel better.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who imagines their favorite characters comforting then when they’re not feeling well 💕 I tried to keep the reason for feeling unwell vague for optimal self insert value. Health issues come in all shapes and sizes and they’re all shitty to deal with. I hope you guys can get some comfort out of this, please let me know if you did.

Warnings: mentions of food/eating (nothing ED related, just a heads-up), non-graphic descriptions of health issues/pain, unspecified medicine

💕💕💕

Vi:

Sadly, Vi knows all to well how it feels to not be well.

When she lived in the Undercity, food wasn’t always guaranteed and healthcare standards weren’t exactly high.

Her time in Stillwater wasn’t much better, she often caught colds and felt weak from a lack of good, healthy food.

Being fit and working on being healthy is a priority for her. She tries to help you with this as well.

If you’re having a good day, she’ll encourage you to exercise with her at a pace that’s comfortable for you. She’ll shower you in compliments any time you work up a sweat.

And regardless of if you’re having a good or a bad day, she’ll make sure you have plenty of healthy food. Not just plain salads or celery though, she says it has to taste good as well or else it’s just a waste of a meal, lol.

On days when you’re feeling especially bad, she’ll get you your favorite treats. But she’ll also make sure you get all the nutrients you need. Eat your veggies or she’ll hide the dessert from you.

Vi is always very understanding if you’re too unwell to go outside, to school or to work. She’ll happily call you in sick, just to make sure you’re taken seriously and get plenty of time to rest up and heal.

Even if she’s busy, she tries to free up some extra time to spend with you. That time is spent either giving you a massage, taking a bath with you or simply just spending some time together on the couch or in bed.

She just wants to know that you’re well taken care of and have everything you need to feel better.

Maybe just one extra snack if you’re hungry.

Seriously won’t stop offering you food because she knows how important good food is.“

You’re still not hungry? I mean- ok, I know you just had some fruit an hour ago, but you’re sure I can’t get you some more soup? Alright, geez, I’ll stop asking.. right after I get you that soup..!”

💕💕💕

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn is overall a pretty healthy person. She has always had plenty of healthy food and her parents regularly make her visit the doctor, too often in her opinion.

But I imagine her as the kind of person who gets migraines. So she knows what it’s like to be in pain, the kind of pain that lingers and completely ruins your day.

Regardless of the kind of health issues you experience, she wants nothing but the best kind of care for you.

She’ll send you to the best doctors and specialists that Piltover has to offer. You’ll never see a bill for any of it when you’re together. It’s all taken care of by her.

Sometimes those visits help, but sometimes feeling unwell means you have to wait for treatment. Or doctors simply can’t help and you have to face your issues by yourself.

Caitlyn would never let you face them alone though. She’s always by your side whenever things get though.

She’s very level-headed when it comes to any basic treatment. Reminding you to take any medication you need, assisting with any at-home exercises, making sure you’re eating well and drinking enough, helping you get plenty of sleep.

But she’s also very good at making sure you’re feeling comfortable and loved. Expect plenty of cuddles, soft kisses and light loving touches throughout the day.

If you’re having an especially bad day or you’re in a lot of pain, she’ll hold you in any way that’s comfortable for you. Sometimes that’s a tight hug, sometimes it’s just holding your hand.

She’ll remind you that the worst of it will eventually be over and you’ll feel better again.

“Shh, you’re alright sweetheart. Just breathe. You know all of this will pass, right? You’ll feel so much better once this is over. All things pass with time. I’m here for you, ok?”

💕💕💕

Sevika:

Sevika isn’t very nurturing by nature. Not her fault, really, she’s just not the kind of person to sit around holding your hand all day feeding you soup.

She is, much better at prevention. Protective by nature, she prefers to make sure you’re well taken care of in the first place so there is as little reason as possible for you to be feeling unwell.

She can pull a few strings and get you to the best doctors in the Undercity, which helps a lot when you’re in need of immediate care.

Being with her also means having a personal bodyguard at all times. Noone can harm you when you’re with her.

But sometimes, you’re just not well and the doctors can’t always help. Bad days happen, but you and Sevika face those bad days together.

She’s the kind of person who can’t handle seeing the people she loves suffer. If you’re in a lot of pain or otherwise going through it, she’ll make sure you have everything you need to feel as comfortable as possible. Medicine, soft blankets, pillows, water. 

But once that’s taken care of, she’ll often excuse herself to go do something outside your home or in another room.

At first you started to feel insecure, thinking she didn’t care enough about you to stay and comfort you.

But one day when you tearfully asked her to please stay, she tried to explain it to you.

Seeing you in so much pain, watching you feeling so horrible, it hurts her too much. She just can’t stand to see you like that for too long because she loves you too much.

She’ll try to be better. She’ll sit with you and hold your hand, rub your back or gently hold you. She won’t say much, she just can’t find the right words.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine, yeah? I’m just gonna step outside for a minute. If you need anything else, just call for me, ok? I’ll be there if you need me.”

💕💕💕

Jinx:

Like Vi, she grew up in the Undercity not always having enough to eat or having enough money to visit a doctor. But that changed when Silco took her in.

At the earliest sign of any illness, Silco will have her taking medicine and doctors will be making home visits.

But these days she’s not unwell that often anymore. She’s all to happy about not having to take all the gross medicine. Blech.

She still knows where to find the right doctors and medicine though. So if you’re ever in need of care, all you need to do is tell her and you’ll have everything you need within the same day.

Jinx is also surprisingly good at helping with any at-home treatments. She has acquired the necessary stills from helping Silco take care of his eye. She knows when to get serious and help you, but also when to crack a joke and help ease tension.

Finding a balance between being serious and being fun is her specialty. She won’t laugh or crack jokes when you’re mentally not in the right place for it. But when you need her to joke the pain away, to make you laugh until you forget your issues for a moment, she’s there.

She’ll give you plenty of hugs and kisses. The best medicine, in her opinion.

Will let you rant about what you’re feeling for as long as you need. Sometimes that’s more helpful than the traditional treatment.

She’ll always make sure to let you know that she loves you and that’s she’s here if you need her.

Repeats that a lot just to make sure you know she really means it.

“Do you think a nap would help make you feel better? Yeah, sounds good, I’ll nap with you. Do you think more hours of sleep equals more healing? Oh, what if you slept for a week straight? You’d be the healthiest person in the world!!”