#this only lasts a moment before it becomes rancid

[besnouted]

i do still keep neem on hand tho since it is also antifungal but it is a wretched substance

#if youre someone who likes savory peanut butter foods #on very first sniff you might think ok this doesnt smell that bad #this only lasts a moment before it becomes rancid #and it fucking LINGERS #i once used it to get rid of soil pests and #for the next MONTH #any time i watered that plant #my room smelled like Weird Peanuts

[tripleyeeet]

I CARE FOR YOU (6)

SUMMARY: After an unexpected moment of intimacy, you admit your growing feelings for Astarion.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,768

WARNINGS: Fluff, cheesy gross rotten fluff filled with more realized feelings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can't tell whether or not I hate this chapter so uh, please be nice to me. I'm very tired and just :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

You’ve been drinking for a while now. Sharing a bottle of ale Astarion had nicked off a merchant outside the myconid colony. While speaking to her about the issue of her missing husband, he somehow managed to snag it unseen, along with a couple of potions and some coins that he shared with you.

At first, you were surprised. Sure, you and Astarion had become increasingly close over the last few days, spending practically all hours conversating or plotting —overall just enjoying each other’s company. But he’d always been firm about earning your keep. Typically for him, what you earned was solely yours alone and vice versa but when you asked him about the merchant theft he just smiled and pinched your cheek, thanking you for the distraction. 

It made you blush —uncontrollably so. The feeling of his fingers taught against your skin before their disappearance. As you moved alongside him, making your way back to camp, you had to compose the need to squeal, feeling your stomach flip while your heart wreaked havoc against your chest. 

Now that you were drunk such feelings had subdued. Lost to the clouded headspace of inebriation that has you lazily staring at the fire, a small grin plastered across your face as you continue to drink. 

Against your tongue, it feels warm and bitter, forcing you to smack your lips in slight disgust every time you swallow it down. “Gods, this is rancid,” you say, and Astarion nods, reaching for the bottle. 

He tips his head back to let it cascade down, cringing ever so slightly. “I swear I haven’t had a decent drink in months,” he complains, passing it back —letting the tips of his fingers brush against the base of your knuckles in the process.

You roll your eyes, feeling that nervous jump of nerves hit your stomach before shaking your head. “That tends to happen when you’re camping beneath the surface.” 

“It was shit before then too, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “Even at that grove party they were basically serving up bottled piss.”

“At least it was free.” 

He shrugs knowingly, agreeing as he watches you take another sip; scrunching up your face in disgust. It’s not good by any means but it’s the first drink you’ve had in days —and again it’s free— so you try not to complain too much. 

“I miss wine.” Snatching the bottle back, he takes another sip and groans, immediately giving it back. “Good wine.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had good wine.”

Immediately, he looks at you like you’ve just slain his mother. His eyes are wide and full of pain before they narrow to a point, prompting him to lean in close, peeling the bottle from your hands. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you’ve never had good wine?”

You shrug, reaching for the bottle only to have him raise it into the air, gripping the neck tightly. “Hey!”

“You grew up in Baldur’s, did you not?”

Ignoring his question, you roll onto your knees, placing a hand on his shoulder as you reach for the drink, groaning when he raises it out of reach again. 

“What’s the best wine you’ve had?”

You grumpily move in closer, maneuvering one of your knees to rest between his outstretched legs, feeling his arm snake around your waist when you inevitably stumble from the alcohol. Audibly you gasp and look down at him, watching his lips twitch into a smirk. 

“Give the bottle back, you ass!” 

His fingers fan across the fabric of your shirt, applying a bit of extra pressure that has you fighting. Resisting the urge to give in as he pouts at your words. 

“Ass? And here I thought you and I were starting to become friends.” 

That feeling from earlier returns. The one where your stomach tangles up and your chest begins to ache, longing for something you know you shouldn’t even think to entertain. “We are friends.” 

His brow shoots up. “Are we?”

Despite the constant attention you’ve been offering one another, you realize then that you’ve never actually discussed what the two of you are. How he makes you feel happy and loved and, above all else, safe. On more than one occasion you’ve thought about letting it slip. During the night when you wake up from your nightmares only to find him already lying next to you, you’ve thought about opening up.

It’d be hard. Seeing as neither of you is the type to fully express how you feel, the idea of verbally admitting that you care for him far more than you should could be detrimental. The kind of conversation that could potentially ruin everything you have going, knowing that he’s…

Well, he’s him. He’s guarded and cautious and deceptive. A man so unwilling to trust that even the simplest of gestures have you questioning his intentions. Wondering whether or not the side of him you get to see is truly real or not. 

You assume in some cases it is. Mostly because no one else has offered you that kind of courtesy. The others are nice. They care for you in their own little ways but something about Astarion’s kindness is different. More developed. It isn’t surface level in the way that Shadowheart heals you after a tough battle or how Lae’zel offers to help you cut vegetables at dinner. There’s something else that lingers. Something warm and tender that makes your ever-growing feelings fight through the ongoing suppression of your mind. 

A suppression that dwindles the longer you look at him —the longer you kneel, half straddling his thigh while your hands sit awkwardly in the air, begging to be touched. 

“I mean, acquaintances don’t do the things we do for each other.” 

You see his throat bob as he swallows. “And what sort of things do we do for each other, hm?”

His voice, despite sounding as confident as it usually does, feels different. Instead of teasing, there’s a genuine curiosity that forms, hanging onto every breath that filters through your lungs.

“Nice things.”

He scoffs. “Care to provide some examples, my dear?”

Instead of responding, you let your hands fall to his shoulders, feeling the sudden tenseness underneath your fingertips as you slide them up toward his neck and move forward. After that, there are still no words that are spoken. Only breaths that catch in your respective throats as Astarion’s thigh shifts towards the innermost parts of yours, pushing against you gently. 

Pressing your lips together, you ignore the feeling that presents itself when he does that, focusing on his face. On the way, his mouth opens up with bated breath —the way his eyes soften and his other hand drops the ale and moves throughout your vision to place an even softer touch against your cheek. 

Without even thinking you return his gesture from the other night, letting your lips press against his thumb as you close your eyes, realizing you want this. Whatever it is that he’s willing to offer. Whether it’s strictly friendship or more or even something in between. At this point, he could offer you the dirt beneath his feet and you’d take it. Bottle it up as a reminder of all that he’s done for you. All the words he’s said to make you laugh. All the hands he’s held to calm you down during your most anxious moments.

He could take and take and give absolutely nothing in return and you’d accept it with open arms if it meant you could stay like this. If it meant you could feel the brush of his thumb gliding back to cup your head and pull you down. 

“I know you’re not the most articulate friend I have but I’d still appreciate a bit more effort.” 

The sudden presence of his breath makes you open your eyes. Your foreheads are practically touching and by now your arms have fully tightened around his neck, further supporting your hold. 

“I don’t know. I, uh, I suppose you care.”

“Do I now?”

“I think so.” 

He hums. “What makes you say that?”

You purse lips, trying to wrap your head around the closeness of it all. The intimate touches mixed with the potential confession rising up your throat. “You do things that the others don’t.”

The hand that rests against the back of your head runs through the roots of your hair, gripping them slightly as he laughs. “You really are bad at elaborating, aren’t you, darling?” 

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin; not surprised that even in moments like this he still manages to withstand his arrogance. “I just mean that it feels like you actually care about me as a person rather than just another helping sword in a war.” 

When he doesn’t respond right away you’re worried you’ve lost him. That you’ve scared him off somehow. Sometimes that happens when you’re in the middle of a conversation. Everything will be normal and somehow you’ll manage to fuck it up by asking something too personal, causing his retreat. 

It hasn’t happened in a while. Not since that night, he held you in your tent but you still assume it’s coming based on the way his gaze shifts, moving from place to place —completely avoiding your eyes. Usually, that’s the first step when he separates. Either he’ll look away or his eyes will go out of focus, leaving you by yourself to wonder how to fix it. 

Reluctantly you slip from his grasp, releasing his neck with shaky hands, feeling the way he tightens up but makes no effort to stop you.

“Sorry, I, uh, I know you’ve got your own… stuff going on.” You clear your throat, relaxing your hips against his thigh before you remember that you’re trying to give him space, prompting you to sit back up again. “Wouldn’t want to complicate that or anything.”

After that, there’s a nervous laugh that escapes your lips when you attempt to crawl off of him. One that grows the second the hand he still has on your back moves to grip your hip, pulling you back down with a rough tug. It forces the breath right out of you. Ripping through your lungs, it feels like instead of blood, Astarion’s taking your air, forcing your mouth to open in such a desperate way you almost whine out loud. 

“I do care —for what it’s worth. Despite the complications.” 

He says it so quietly you barely hear it against the crackling of the ongoing fire and the echoes of the Underdark. As it hits your ears, it sounds like the faintest whisper ever uttered. A quiet secret so safely tucked away that even the mention of its mere existence has you reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks with careful hands that wish to make sure he’s okay.

“You make me feel…” He trails off, letting out a frustrated sigh while closing his eyes. 

You can tell then that he’s fighting the barrier. Allowing its presence to overthrow his thoughts, fearing what might happen if he’s honest. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him it’s okay —that anything he says will be cherished not exploited. Appreciated to the highest degree possible. But then there’s the other part. The one that knows that what you say doesn’t matter. That in the grand scheme of things, words are merely facades we tell each other to hide the truth. 

You want to tell him the truth. More than anything you want to utter every hidden admiration over and over again until he believes you. Until he’s forced to hear the cadence in your voice breaking at the realization he believes that he’s untouchable. 

“I care for you, Astarion.” 

The words come out more broken than you intend. As it exits your lips, it’s coarse against your ears, making you internally cringe and close your eyes, taking a moment to breathe because you finally did it. You finally said something.

All you receive from it is a hum of acknowledgement. One that fails to give you any sort of relief. 

At first, it shakes you. Makes you regret even thinking you could earn anything other than a snide remark. But then you open your eyes. And you see him. The way he’s staring at you with confused eyes and open lips, begging you for more. 

“I don’t know what it all means yet. I just —I just wanted you to know that your friendship means more to me than you know.” You glide both thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the coolness of his skin wrap around the warmth of your own. “I know I don’t know a lot about your past. I don’t know how or what level it’s affected how you perceive your self-worth but I know you now. And I know that regardless of the shit you went through whether it was of your will or otherwise, that you deserve to be cared for.” 

That you deserve to be loved. 

By the time you’re done, you’re weightless. A feather of freedom dancing in the wind as it awaits its downfall. 

Glancing between Astarion and the space behind him, you find there’s no regret in what you’ve just said. No fear of rejection. No shame for admittance. All that’s left is the feeling of relief. One that grows once you hear him clear his throat and pull you close, moving his forehead to yours. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says, but that doesn’t stop the smile that pulls at your cheeks. 

“It’s okay. Neither do I.”

“I don’t know how to be what you want.” 

You inhale heavily, looking down to see the worry grace his face. “Do you even know what I want?” 

He opens his mouth but quickly stops, making you laugh. 

“I want you, Astarion. That’s it. Whether it’s you at your best or you at your worst, I just want you.”

“Me.” He repeats it as a statement. As an affirmation that makes your stomach flip. 

“I know you’re difficult to deal with. You’re stubborn and unforgiving and crass but I’m also incredibly patient.” You squeeze his cheeks, uttering patient through clenched teeth that make him snort. 

“I’d argue that most of the time you’re not but—“

You shush him, earning yourself an eye roll. “I’ll wait for you. With you. If that’s what you want.”

And you do. Pressing yourself further into him, you breathe and wait, letting him piece together all the words you’ve just displayed. Letting him sit and process the weight of them all in the form of nervous fingers that tap your hips before they slowly begin to slide. 

By the time they hit the centre of your back, he’s releasing his hold with one and snaking it beneath your outstretched arm to grab your face. 

“Can I share something? With you?”

You nod your head and feel him pull you down, immediately slotting his lips over yours in a way you’ve never felt before.

Somehow it’s soft while still remaining hungry. Deep beneath the careful movements he inflicts, there’s a desperation that has both of you moving your arms to further wrap around the other, forcing your chests flush. Against your mouth, he breathes new life into your soul —ripping the old away as he nibbles the edge of your bottom lip, eliciting a moan that makes him grin. 

“You taste better than I remember.”

Silencing him with another kiss, you move your hands to his hair, running your fingers along his scalp, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch before pulling away. 

Both of you are gasping for air then. Staring at one another with blown-out pupils that make you look away in embarrassment. 

You’re not sure how to feel now. Before it was easy to pine —to think about the potentials and long for something more because it wasn’t real. It was merely a desire fuelled by curiosity so now that you have it, you have no idea what happens next. 

“We should probably talk, right? About things?” 

You can’t help but brush his curls from his face as he nods, giving you a knowing look that has you feeling worried he still might backtrack. “Things, as in?”

“The past. Both of ours. When you’re ready.”

Despite the reluctance you feel radiating off of him, there’s also a sliver of acceptance. An inkling of something new and warm that filters through as he nods his head, uttering a thank you before pulling you back in again. 

-

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon @sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama @venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes @ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form, also if your name isn't on here and it should be i couldn't tag you so message me and i'll try again next time!)

#i care for you #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 15 - Hide(Yandere TMNT 2012 Raph)

A/N, not important: I'm running on steam and got a bunch of state test in a week and a half✌. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Vomit, kidnapping, attempted escape from an abuser, being in a dumpster, bugs, threats, rushed writing

Words: 1080

Summary: Staying silent is harder than it looks

Your hand has a vice grip on your mouth, your breathing shaky and shallow. Every breath you take sends waves of anxiety and fear through your spine, your eyes darting back and forth across the gross dumpster walls. You could hear his angered shouts in the distance, and the awful smell of rotting trash paired with the terror wracking through you made you want to vomit. A part of you wished you picked a better hiding place, but you knew there was nowhere else in the alley you turned down. Not unless you wanted to take a shot at hiding in the sopping cardboard box against the wall, but even the quick glance you gave it spoke wonders. It would have collapsed the moment your fingers brushed the cardboard.

Your crouched position was starting to hurt your back, your knees aching at the position. The dumpster was full when you climbed in, and while most trash was thankfully in bags, you could still feel something wet and slimy moving over your skin. You couldn’t even tell if the prickling on your arm was trash brushing against it, or a bug using you as a bridge. More bile pushes itself up your throat, but you desperately swallow it down. You didn’t want to be stuck in here with the smell of rancid garbage and stomach acid.

Your eyes stare straight ahead, the darkness penetrated by two small holes in the dumpster. It gave you enough vision to see outside if you leaned close, but you didn’t risk it. You didn’t want to give anything the chance to see you too.

The night is still, random cars passing by the alleyway giving you some hope. If you just got out and stood by the road, maybe someone would stop? They could take you to the police, or to a hospital, or to anywhere but here. Anywhere that he wasn’t. The thought of escaping, of finally being free is so tempting, that you almost get up and try it. Almost.

You body is frozen before you could truly decide, your breathing halted and eyes wide. Raph, silent at ever, had just landed in your alley. Dangerous curiosity trumps your survival instinct, and you lean closer to the holes in the dumpster. His sais were in his hands, the metal glinting off the lamps lining the streets. You could see how heavy he was breathing, his plastron moving in a hypnotizing pattern as if it was trying to coerce you to come out on your own. His eyes were pure white, something you had only seen once before. Last time he looked this serious, he almost put you in a coma.

Your mind tugs at you to move backwards, to hide in the safety of the shadows and silence, but the poison of curiosity has you firmly in its grasp. You watch in fascinated horror as Raph rampages through the alley, kicking over pails and tins while he grunts and curses. He walks further down the alley and you lean to the side, hoping to be able to follow him with your eyes. At the shift, you feel yourself start to slip and once more you’re doused with a cold rush of fear. You quickly reach your hands out to steady yourself on the walls of the dumpster, but in replanting your feet, you kick the metal floor harder than intended. You don’t even have time to look up before Raph is opening the dumpster, his white eyes green once more.

You couldn’t help but feel in awe for just a moment, your mind reeling as you lose your sense of reality. It was like you were looking up at your friend instead of the horror he had become, the hide and chase merely again rather than an attempt to save your life. He, unlike you, doesn’t waste time to gawk, his hands curling around your biceps and yanking you out of the metal coffin. You stand there, numb and still in shock of your stupid, preventable mistake. All you had to do was not move. All you had to do was not look. You could’ve been free, but here you are, back into the arms of a demon.

“You left me.” He hisses, his anger boiling over and making him shake. You continue to gape at him, fear paralyzing your body and tongue. Raph doesn’t seem to care. He shakes you slightly, your mind starting to work a bit more as your eyes meet the toxic green of his. “You left me.”

You don’t know what to say, and nothing could possibly help you in this situation. You were stuck. A goldfish in a fishbowl set by a pond. Tears sprout at your eyes as you start to crumple, your knees giving out and forcing Raph to take hold of your weight. He sneers, but says nothing as he picks you up. He parkours up to the roof of the buildings surrounding your alley, anger bubbling just under your skin.

In what feels like less than a second, he jumps down into an alley once more and sets you down. He eyes your pathetic form for a moment before scoffing, moving over to the sewer cover and prying it up. He grabs your ankle and drags you over, ignoring the growing screams and pleads that fall from your lips. He brings you into his arm with slightly more difficulty than before. Your flailing accompanied with his single hand carry was not helping him contain you. He jerks you back so your back hits his chest, making you wheeze from the impact.

“Stop your whining. Whatever happens, it’s your fault. I told you not to run, and you didn’t listen.”

You don’t listen, making him grumble with frustration. He ducks down on the ladder and shuts the sewer, plunging you both into near darkness. He doesn’t bother keeping you comfortable as he drags you down, letting your limbs hit the cold metal of the ladder rungs. He hits the floor and throws you over his shoulder, his grip on your calf threatening to snap it in two. He ignores your cries of pain and the fists beating against his shell, only marching on towards the prison he calls your home. Whatever awaited you there, you sincerely hoped you’d drop dead before you could find out. You doubted that would ever happen though. Raph would never let that happen. After all, he does love you.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2012 #raphael #2012 raph #raph tmnt #tmnt raphael #raph hamato #raph #tmnt raph #yandere tmnt 2012 #tmnt x reader #yandere tmnt x reader #yandere raph #yandere raph tmnt #yandere raphael x reader #yandere raphael #yandere raph x reader #yandere 2012 tmnt #yandere 2012 raph

[captainmalewriter]

Sibling Rivalry

Sierra's mother had recently remarried. While she was happy her mother had found love again after divorcing her deadbeat father, it unfortunately came with an extra cost Sierra wasn't prepared for. The man her mother had married had a son her age, and although Sierra just ignored Carlos during the dating phase, now he was her step brother. Carlos was loud, obnoxious, and overall just a disagreeable person. The two would often bicker and fight as if they were little kids again. And now that they moved in with Sierra and her mother, avoiding Carlos became much more difficult.

"I just don't see why you can't get along with him," Sierra's Mom said while she was busy washing dirty dishes. "He is your brother now, you know."

"Step-brother," Sierra corrected. She was slouched over on the kitchen counter. Now that college students were out for summer break, Carlos would be at home more often. She dreaded the thought.

"Sweetheart, the details don't matter. You're both adults, you should act like it and treat each other with respect."

Sierra raised her head and stared her mother down, though her mother didn't give her a response. Sierra couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was always the respectful one, only becoming disrespectful when Carlos started it (which was often). It became clear to her that her mother was simply too oblivious to really help her out.

Sierra took a deep breath and excused herself to go take a shower. She stepped into the porcelain bathtub and turned on the hot water. She felt the tension melt from her body as the steam filled the room. Sierra was ready to for a long shower, until a gust of cold air entered the room. She gasped and peeked her head out the curtain. Her jaw dropped when she saw Carlos had entered the bathroom, and with only a pair of briefs covering him.

"Why are you in here!? Get out!" Sierra yelled.

"Bro seriously?" Carlos rolled his eyes. He started tapping on his phone. "Quit screaming! Now I gotta record this thirst trap again..."

"Dude I'm fucking showering!"

"So?"

"So get the fuck out!! I don't want you in here, get out!!"

Sierra was scowling. Carlos lowered his phone to return Sierra's gaze, though he looked completely uninterested. The two stared at each other for a brief moment with only the running water breaking the silence.

"GET OUT!!" Sierra yelled even louder than before.

"Psh, fine."

Carlos smirked as he turned around and grabbed the doorknob. He began to leave, but just before he left, he raised his leg and let out a loud fart. The sound reverberated throughout the small bathroom for the four seconds it lasted. Once he was done, Carlos left and slammed the door shut.

Sierra groaned as she resumed showering. But within seconds, the rancid smell of a protein junkie's flatulence violated her nostrils. She gagged while covering her nose. It was horrible. While the smell did eventually dissipate, Sierra finished her shower with a scowl on her face. She was sick and tired of her step brother, and that fart bomb was the last straw.

Sierra spent the rest of that day searching through the internet for the perfect revenge plot. She needed something big enough to get him back after everything he’s done as well as cruel enough to make him stop. After hours of searching, Sierra found her solution. She would possess her brother, then force him to embarrass himself all over the internet. She was sure that something like that would get him to leave her alone for good.

Once nightfall came, while everyone else was asleep, Sierra proceeded to perform a magical spell on her own body. She recited the ancient incantation, and her spirit began to untether itself from her body. Soon she was floating through the air in spirit form. Sierra flew straight to Carlos' room. She fazed through the wall and was met with the sight of her step brother lying in bed naked with a mango on his dick.

"Mmm... fuck yeah..." Carlos moaned as he pumped his cock with the fruit.

Sierra averted her eyes. It was the first time she had ever entered his room, and now she had reason to never enter again. She was grateful she couldn't smell in her spirit form, as she had a feeling that the room reeked of body odor and dried cum. Carlos tossed the mango to the side after it became mush. He then proceeded to pick up his stroking pace as he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

Not wanting to prolong the plan any longer, Sierra floated over to Carlos. He was too busy jerking off to notice a ghost had entered his room and was noticing hovering directly above him. Sierra got in position and proceeded to lower herself down to him.

Just a little closer...

She had no idea how body possession worked, but she figured she needed to line up the body parts. She started with her legs. As she lowered herself onto him, she could feel herself sitting on top of his lap. Then, with a little push, her spirit began to sink inside of Carlos' body. Though because of her positioning and because Carlos was in the middle of jerking off, she inadvertently got penetrated while possessing him.

A moan accidentally escaped Sierra's lips as Carlos' thick dick slipped inside her pussy. Her pussy lips flared as the cock head entered her. Sierra hated to admit it, but her brother was the biggest she had ever been fucked by. Pushing aside the sensations, she pushed on with the body possession. Carlos' 8 inch cock got swallowed up by Sierra's coochie as she inserted more and more of her spirit into him. She taken over his legs and waist, then moved onto the torso.

"Aw... fuck...! " Carlos cried out. His pleasure had increased; it felt like he was fucking some tight pussy, yet all he could see around his dick was his own hand.

That didn't stop him from continuing his jerk off session. Sierra began to lay down so that her spirit would go into the rest of Carlos. Their torsos lined up perfectly. Carlos' pecs grew in size as Sierra's tits filled them in. The more Sierra possessed Carlos, the more she could feel herself change from having a female body to a male body. Suddenly she had a dick and balls where she had a pussy. Her chest was still heavy, but she wouldn't need to wear a bra anymore. Sierra aligned her head to Carlos', completing the possession.

Sierra opened her eyes and found her new hairy hands vigorously stroking off her new cock. She was panting and moaning with Carlos' deep voice. She was close. With just seconds to spare, she managed to get Carlos' phone with her free hand and record herself shooting loads of cum all over her brother's possessed body. She was covered in warm, sticky cum- cum that she got to experience the pleasure of shooting out.

She laid there, catching her breath after finishing what Carlos had started. Then, she hopped out of bed and walked over to her brother's mirror. A sinister smirk ran across her face as she confirmed the results of the magic spell. She flexed and groped all over her new male body, the body she stole from her brother.

Sierra admired herself in the mirror, bouncing her pecs as she checked out the goods. She wasn't a fat girl by any means, but Carlos had always been the more fit of the two step siblings. She couldn't help but run her fingers over the bulging veins in her arms and legs. The feel of a V line felt foreign yet pleasurable to her. Her hands eventually went to her new groin, and she groaned as she cupped and rubbed her newly possessed dick.

After thoroughly inspecting her brother's body, Sierra went back to the bed. She picked up her brother's phone and went to the gallery to see the video of her shooting cum all over herself. It blew her mind to know that although it was Carlos in the video, it was actually her spirit controlling his actions. Nobody would know it just by watching the video, they'd just see some guy jerking off.

She paused as thoughts ran through her mind. Sierra had recorded the video to use as revenge, but she began to have second thoughts. Sierra was recalling the feeling of stroking a hairy cock and the pleasure of busting a massive nut. It was obviously different than fingering her pussy, but jerking off in a man's body... That was more pleasurable to her. Sierra grinned as she remembered the warmth of a good jerk off.

Nobody would know. Nobody would ever know unless I told them. And even if I did, who would believe me?

That last thought stayed with her. Then, after a minute, she deleted the video off her brother's phone. She decided the revenge plot could wait. Sierra decided to have a little fun with her brother's body instead. After all, nobody would know it's her.

#female to male tf #female to male #gender change #male possession #male takeover #revenge #siblings #pec bounce

[wellthebardsdead]

Flynt: *tongue repaired but still blind, enjoying an evening drink with the other bosmer in the drunken huntsman* Nah no more for me lads, I’ll head off after this.

Anoriath: well make sure you come back tomorrow night too, with the number of deer you took down I owe you another 10 rounds at least.

Elrindir: How you can shoot better than the both of us despite being blind I’ll never know.

Flynt: heh, it helps you two are so busy bickering all the time I can tell where you are and what way you’re facing so I try to shoot between you~

Anoriath: probably for the best then. Or my brother might take a second arrow to his rump.

Elrindir: and even then, he’s blind, you were drunk. You have no excu- *pauses as a number of other wood elves enter, all dressed in garb of the green pact, and all of them eyeing up flynt* …Come in, have a seat I’ll be with you in a moment. *smiles at them but never drops his gaze, watching as they walk to a table near the door and whisper to each other, all of them still eyeing up the blind wood elf*

Flynt: *finishes his drink and gets up with a stretch* Aight mates, I’ll be off. I’m sure taliesins worried about me again. *picks up his crossbow and sword before waving to them as he walks to the door, ears pricked to attention, very much aware of the wood elves eyeing him up*

Anoriath: Be seeing you flynt. *smiles before joining his brother in watching as the other bosmer suddenly get up and follow flynt out* …Grab your bow.

Elrindir: Go get his husband.

*a few minutes later*

Flynt: *smelling the pact of the green lingering behind him, bosmer draped in leather and hide, the smell of the woods and fermented milk alcohol… no where near as sweet or as clean as Auri… no, they smelled rancid… they smelled like the letter his mother had sent… she’d done something to anger them… they were here for him* hm… *looks in the direction of his home before purposefully walking towards the city gate and out toward the fields, the smell following him, closer and closer… then surrounding him when they think he’s alone* huh? Whose there? *smirks hearing one jump for him having fallen for his fake out* Got you- *reaches for his sword only to feel it missing, and a set of arms grabbing him from behind and clawing at his armour as two others pounce on him trying to rip off his clothes*

???: *holding his sword and trying to keep him steady* Hold still Nirren!!

???: Were bringing you home Nirren!!

???: hurry up and get his clothes on him!!

Flynt: *realising his mother must have killed this Nirren person and they’re trying to replace him by kidnapping him* Oh youre that kind of pact followers! FUS-

*meanwhile*

Taliesin: *running from the city gates following Auri as she follows the smell* IM NEVER LETTING HIM GO OUT ALONE AGAIN!

Kaidan: I KNEW THAT FOCKING LETTER WAS AN OMEN!

“RO DAH!!”

Inigo: HEADS UP!

Everyone: *stops and looks up in time to see one of the pact followers land on one of the cobblestone walls of the city, breaking their neck upon impact and dying swiftly*

Taliesin: *runs to the edge of the look out and looks down to see his now half naked husband desperately fighting off 3 more of them as they keep piling onto him… only for Auri to suddenly dive in and take two out hooking them with her bow string and holding them steady as Lucien takes their heads off with his sword* FLYNT!!! *drops down and rolls before charging the last one and taking them to the ground* GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY HUSBAND!!

???: HES OUR BROTHER NOW! SHE KILLED OUR BROTHER! HES TO BECOME OUR NIRREN! *draws their dagger and goes to stab him, only for Kaidan to slit his throat* Gghuh-gaarggh- *drops the knife and pushes Taliesin off of him before desperately staggering towards flynt with his other arm outstretched, only to drop a few feet from him, dead*

Auri: *helps flynt to his feet and dusts him off* There are parts of the pact even I do not agree with…

Flynt: … *nods sadly and walks past the bodies to taliesin* bee…

Taliesin: *swiftly embraces him and holds him tight* Shhh… I’m here…

*a few hours later*

Flynt: *seated by the fire, holding the letter his mother had sent him, telling him how she was leaving Valenwood and hoping to find him, and to write to her so they could ‘reunite’* …

Taliesin: *dressed in his night robe, quietly walks over and sits beside him* do you want me to write a letter back to her?…

Flynt: … *leans forward and tosses the letter into the fireplace before walking to Taliesin and climbing into his lap, hugging him tight as he starts to cry, finally showing his response to nearly getting kidnapped and taken advantage of again, all because of his mother* I don’t ever want to hear from or about her, ever, ever again…

#flynt dragonborn #bosmer dragonborn #skyrim taliesin #Kaidan skyrim #Auri skyrim #inigo skyrim #Lucien skyrim

[dalishthunder]

Talos of Atmora

Pairing: Nebarra/LDB (gender neutral reader) Rating: Teen Words: 1056 Additional Info: So, this was meant to be smut, but my hand slipped and it became hurt comfort and I have a lot of ideas I want to explore in Destiny Waits for No One instead of in a little one shot lmao

Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. That's why restoration spells and healing potions existed. But it didn't change the fact that you were holed up in a shack with possibly the worst of your companions. Xelzaz would have been able to heal you. Lucifer and Kaidan would have at least been pleasant company. What did Nebarra bring to the group? An impressive sword arm, and an even more rancid attitude.

It was your own fault really for thinking having some alone time together would help you turn that frown upside-down. Make you closer. Something.

But no, here you were, stuck in a damp old shack, leg out of commission as you tried to explain to Nebarra how to make a rudimentary healing poultice.

"Tell me why you can't just do this again?" He sneered.

You rolled your eyes. "Because I dislocated my damn shoulder in that last fight, and my leg is too messed up for me to stand."

The mer pounded halfheartedly on the blue mountain flowers and marshmerrow in the mortar and pestle. "Maybe if you-"

"Maybe if I what? Maybe if I what, Nebs?" You hissed. "Maybe if I hadn't saved your ass, that spriggan wouldn't have left a festering wound in my leg? Hmm?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd asked you to jump in front of a twisted, evil tree. Let me just adjust my attitude." Each syllable was punctuated by the pounding of the ingredients. "The last time I checked, I didn't need your dumb heroics."

"Okay, next time I'll let you die. Fine."

"Fine."

He was absolutely impossible.

"Now add a tiny bit of canis root." Not enough to paralyze, just enough to numb and take the edge off as you healed.

He did as instructed, grumbling all the while.

"Let me see it." You said after a few moments.

Your companion held it out to you, and you dipped your finger in, testing the consistency before pulling out your waterskin. "Fill this up a third of the way to the brim, but you have to do it slowly. Mix in a bit at a time."

"Gods, you're picky."

You were going to bite him. Just sink your teeth into his flesh and rip and tear like any good dragon would. "If you don't do this right and it becomes infected and I die, I'm going to haunt your ass. I'm going to haunt your ass and make sure that wine is always out of reach for you. Just break every wine bottle I find with my little ghostly hands."

"You wouldn't dare." Though you couldn't see his face, you could practically feel his glower.

"Don't test me, mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili.*" You narrowed your eyes at him, lips curling over your teeth.

"Graxifalas kynd." He shot back. "You're not the only multilingual person in the room."

You hated that you somehow just couldn't manage to get along with this stupid mer. It wasn't like you hadn't tried, and it wasn't even that you didn't like him.... Or at least... you wanted to like him, he just made it so miserably difficult. Fighting you every single step of the way.

After a few moments, the pounding of the mortar and pestle slowed, and he showed you the poultice once more. You gave it the okay when you felt the gentle numbing sensation from the canis root. You held out your hand for him to hand it over, but he just set it down next to your leg and worked on applying it to the wound.

"I can do it..." You said, but he didn't seem to pay you much mind.

"Just like you can defeat a spriggan by yourself? Hmm?" His drawl was grating... and just a bit endearing.

"There were two of them."

"And two of us."

You rolled your eyes. He had a point though; You'd defeated dragons... how the hell were you unable to defeat two spriggans together. Well, you had defeated them, but your wounds weren't anything to sniff at. He began to bind your leg.

"You have very poor form in tight quarters." Nebarra tightened the tourniquet and you winced. "You rely too much on range and being able to shout at things."

A sigh caught in your chest.... He was right. You really weren't great up close. "... Yeah."

"Ohohoho backing down without a fight? Finally admitting you're not some god?" He seemed to admire his handiwork for a moment.

Was that how he thought you saw yourself?

The floor was very interesting. Probably full of splinters.... "... I never said I was a god."

"Oh please, spare me the soliloquy, Dragonborn. You let them call you Dragon-Made-Flesh. The Dragon of the North. The Child of Skyrim." He muttered as he took a seat on the floor a few feet away, each title held more vitriol than the last. "You don't have to call yourself a god. You just let people think it."

You chewed your bottom lip... he wasn't wrong. People had begun to murmur.... You tried to deny it when you could. But it had already started to spiral like a snowball down a hill, gathering strength and momentum.

"Do you even know what those titles mean, Adma'na?"

You finally looked over at him.

"Talos. They think you're the bloody incarnation of Talos. They think you're the reincarnated avatar of a false god." He spat.

You winced again. "... I can't really control what everyone else thinks of me. I've been trying to tell people but-"

"Try harder."

"Look at me, Nebs. Do you think a god, let alone THE Tyrant God-King, would be sitting here, bleeding, at your mercy? I... won't lie; I don't know what I am, but if I am a god, I'm a pretty pitiful one."

Nebarra was silent for a long while, and when he spoke again it was softly. "I'll give you that one. If you are a god, you're pretty pitiful."

"... Did you really think I saw myself as a god?"

He didn't answer.

You looked down at the bandaging on your leg.

"Well... I'm sorry if I led you to believe that.... Thank you for helping me." The corners of your lips curled up in a slight smile. "And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

*mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili. - (Dragon-tongue) Little elf. I will devour your soul.

Graxifalas kynd. - (Altmeri) Disgraceful child

Adma'na - (Altmeri) Poor listener

#nebarra #nebarra skyrim #elder scrolls #thunderous applesauce #odt #x reader #look I just love him a lot #I cant stop writing #i wanted to write smut i really did but it just came out this way

[what-a-weird-rose]

QuillKiller: The Things We Had (Lost in It)

Pairing: Bellatrix Black / Rita Skeeter

Rating: E

Prompt: Strap-on

Word Count: 1.6k

The corridors of Hogwarts are strangely quiet, even for midnight. And Bellatrix can feel the eerie silence like spiders on her legs; it tickles her skin and prickles her neck.

If the whole thing was up to her, the meeting would be outside the Slytherin common room, where only a fool would be stupid enough to raise questions. Instead, Rita had insisted on meeting in neutral territory- as if this was some negotiation- like they were fancy politicians making some ground-breaking, earth-shattering deal. Merlin, Rita was made for her.

Bellatrix takes a right, then a left, and is met face-to-face with Rita Skeeter, who smiles widely upon seeing her. Bellatrix can feel the nerves tickling her spine.

“Password,” Rita commands, and Bellatrix feels giddy again.

“Rancid old men,” Bellatrix breathes, reaching her hands out to grasp at Rita’s own. The passwords were her idea to ensure no one would try to get in on their little arrangement; Bellatrix’s favorite was ‘spicy goat cheese.’

Rita nods quickly before responding, “to the break of dawn, we go.”

Bellatrix giggles, snatching Rita’s hands within her own, pulling her close before pressing her lips against Rita’s. “Hello again, bug.”

Rita smiles smugly, caressing Belltrix’s cheek softly, “are you ready, Trixie?” Bellatrix looks at her and raises a perfectly carved brow. Bellatrix stretches up and crawls back into her self-created cage.

“What would you like to know, Skeeter.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Trixie,” Rita presses her lips to Bellatix’s cheek, running her hand through messy, frizzy hair. “No interview today, Trixie, I just want to be here with you for a while- no expectations.”

Bellatrix stares momentarily, openly gaping at Rita as she combs fingers through wild hair. “Are you sure?” She whispers and feels her heart swell as Rita nods.

They sit in the corridor and talk about everything and nothing; their conversation becomes epically meaningless and horribly personal. Rita tells about her father abandoning their family when she was young and having to sell everything but essentials to survive; writing was one of the few things she had completely to herself. Bellatrix whispers about her family, her father’s expectations, her mother’s drinking, Narcissa’s fear of being trapped in a marriage like their parents’; how Bellatrix knows Andromeda is waiting for an opening to run- how she knows she wants to as well, but doesn’t know how.

Rita nods along prods where appropriate and comforts when needed.

Bellatrix answers questions, accepts comfort, and preens when Rita tells her she’s doing her best.

“Tell me, Trixie, if there were no consequences for you leaving, would you?” And Bellatrix thinks for a very long minute.

“I think that if there were no consequences, I would.” She says very slowly at last.

“Where might you go?”

“The Andes. I’d live in the mountains- maybe in a cave.”

Rita chuckles lightly, grasping her hand closely before pulling it to her mouth to kiss softly.

“Would you let me visit you?” Rita asks quietly, hesitantly.

“Only if you’d like, bug.”

“Bellatrix?”

“Yeah?”

“You know this can’t last forever?”

Bellatrix stops completely, frozen in a single moment in time. She turns to face Rita entirely, staring as deep into her soul as possible.

“Why not?” Bellatrix asks petulantly.

“Because we aren’t meant to work out- not longer-term at least, and you’ll be married off the moment you graduate and-”

“No husband of mine would be stupid enough to even think of touching you, Skeeter,” Bellatrix interrupts because she exists in cyclical patterns of fighting, crying, and deluding herself.

“It isn’t your husband, Trixie- it’s- fuck, everything I can’t,” Rita pulled her hand back and tugged her loose hair back behind her ears, dragging in a deep breath. “I’m going to write for the Daily Prophet, I’m going to, its what I’ve been planning since I knew anything about anything.” Bellatrix nods, though she doubts Rita can see it. “When I’m writing for the Prophet there are going to be stories about your family Trixie- there already are stories about your family,” Rita pauses and grasps Bellatrix’s hand like a lifeline, “you’re the first friend I’ve ever made and I can’t see that friendship ruined on account of my job.”

Bellatrix breathes, feeling the pieces slip into place quietly- she yanks Rita toward her. She buries her head in the crook of her neck, smelling faint lavender perfume.

“You’re leaving me for a job you don’t have,” she whispers, half-begging-half-accepting. “You said you’d be my rock, Skeeter, rocks don’t fucking abandon you- that’s not what they do.” Bellatrix holds her hands out and waits quietly as Rita places her own against them. “Did you plan this?” She asks at last, wanting to laugh and cry.

“Not really,” Rita says hoarsely. Suddenly, Bellatrix is aware she isn’t the only one crying, “I’ve been thinking it for a while, but you’re so good, Trixie, and I kept telling myself I could stay with you longer. I can’t keep doing this, pushing this inevitability back until it’s too close- too raw.” Rita combs long fingers through thick, messy curls, pressing her lips to the crown of Bellatix’s head. “You’ll always be my first love if that means anything.”

“How could it not?”

“I’m not sure, but I hoped it might help.”

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

Bellatrix sits up, wiping her nose and cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater- just the day to forget her handkerchief.

“Can I ask for one last thing, at the very least?” Rita turns to her and gives a small, questioning nod. “One last time, you and I together- that’s all I’ll ever ask you for ever again, then you can pretend to have never known me, or whatever it is you plan to do.”

Rita moves her hands quickly to grab Bellatrix’s jaw, pulling it forward and pressing their lips together.

“Yes, one last time, if only for the sake of the thing,” Rita says, dazed, as she presses her body against Bellatrix’s.

Bellatrix leans back just enough to give her hands room to begin touching. Hungrily, greedily, insatiably touching.

Rita groans her appreciation as their tongues touch and dance and separate. Bellatrix moves toward Rita’s neck, kissing just enough to send a thrill up both their spines but not enough -never enough- to leave a mark.

She swings her hands around Rita’s middle to pull her closer- pull Rita into herself.

Rita chuckles and pets Bellatrix’s mane down, mumbling nothingness.

“Are we going slow and soft today, Trixie? Didn’t think you had it in you.” Bellatrix snorts, dragging the flat of her tongue along her almost-ex-lover’s neck.

“Shut up, bug.” Bellatrix huffs, grasping at the open skin of Rita’s thighs and moving down toward where her fingers splay over pale skin. She runs her tongue over Rita’s cloth panties and watches as the girl before her trembles leaf-like. “Open your legs.” Bellatrix commands and Rita indulges her.

Rita positions herself spread open on the bench with Bellatrix kneeling on the floor between her legs; she shimmies herself up just enough to see if someone comes down the corridor.

Bellatrix can feel the anticipation rise as her lips caress the soft inner skin of Rita’s cunt- sticking her tongue in just enough to graze against her sensitive clit. Bellatrix preens as Rita digs long fingers down her scalp and pulls, forcing her head to sit completely between Rita’s legs.

Her cunt tastes heavenly, though Bellatrix can’t seem to describe it exactly. She decides between Rita’s legs that her sole reason to exist is to please this nasty Ravenclaw girl. Rita gives a sharp tug and deep groan.

“Already, bug? You’d think at this point you’d have some stamina.” Bellatrix gives one last long lick up Rita’s cunt before pushing off the bench and onto her feet. “Up you get. Quick, quick.” She chuckles to herself, watching Rita stuff her panties into her bra.

Rita stands eventually and backs herself against the wall, lifting her right leg invitingly. “Under the bench, surprised you didn’t notice it while you were down there.”

Bellatrix huffs, reaching under the bench to drag out the bag- magical cocks, such wonderful things.

She tugs up her skirt and straps the disturbingly real-looking cock onto her front, pressing softly against her pubes. Rita sniffs and lifts her leg as if silently urging the process on. Bellatrix smiles and takes the cock in hand before pressing Rita completely against the wall, lifting her slightly, and sinking her down onto the thick thing.

Rita grunts happily and fixes her hands on Bellatrix’s hair, running nails against her scalp.

Bellatrix adjusts her grip on Rita’s thighs, lifting her up just enough to allow for movement before starting.

Her hips move quickly and stutter only a few times; Rita continues moaning whore-like as she is fucked, whore-like. Bellatrix enjoys every bit of it, especially as each thrust sends a jolt of stimulation to her clit -magical cocks, wonderful things.

She thrusts wildly as she gets closer to her high, feeling every slight movement of Rita’s fingers in her hair, feeling as she grips strands.

Rita cums first, throwing her head back and exclaiming nonsense words, yanking Bellatrix by the hair into her breasts.

Bellatrix thrust twice more before the stimulation overwhelms her, and she does her best to keep Rita close in her arms.

Rita pants, “perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement?”

“I think I’d like that.”

#(smutty) tales from the hogwarts broom closets #tales from the hogwarts broom closests #marauders #young marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #mwpp #mwpp era #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix x rita #rita skeeter #quillkiller #smut

[originemesis]

Of course Sera would have never sanctioned a covert venture into the odious underbelly of pride's center city asphalt jungle for the sole purpose of finding and dispatching of some rancid demon scum playing dress-up with Adam's face. Not over a soulless piece of glass. No, no, let them make a prop out of his image. Let them make a joke out of his memory. Because now is the time to practice diplomacy. Right after the infernal filth has spit in the face of everything heaven stands for. After they've robbed her blind of her only place and purpose in this life. Now is the time to turn the other cheek.

Well, as it turns out, much of the newly appointed commander's capacity for giving a shit had died with Adam.

Tracking this ballsy fuck down hadn't been as great of a hassle as she had accounted for. Of course people are going to talk when the phantom of the man who'd terrorized their home for several centuries latches itself onto the same streets he'd painted red every new years eve.

After having tailed him through the city for the brunt of the evening she has found herself sat across from his LED lit visage, at the opposite side of a lengthy (and equally sticky) stretch of bar counter, observing him peck at a basket of something grease laden from underneath the hood of the voluminous cloak hiding her angelic features.

Ah, yes...yet another night in the rot pit known as hell spent half-sullen in some seedy dive bar after the show he was obligated to put on for the sake of a corporation that swore to him that the "v" as in Vees stood for the best thing ever-....though he was starting to question that after one too many dudes showed up on his doorstep thanks to that Grindr shit that Pinkie Pie made him and swore would rake him in piles of pussy. Maybe it was for the best though, he thought with the trio of space rocks hung in his chest like pills swallowed dry without a halo to holster them. Pussy always seemed to bring him trouble one way or another.

Hunched halfway over his paper tray of tendies and fries, he sighed, digging a talon in to spear a couple of fried spuds before coiling them up into his mouth display. A show was cathartic in a way, but it wouldn't distract him from the heavy feeling of being alone in a crowded room that smelled enough of questionable decisions and cum to make his skin itch under the hoodie he'd pulled on before traipsing out of the last gig directly in favor of finding somewhere to hole up for the night that wasn't with Mr. Mews for Views's arm snaked around his waist. Though it wasn't the best disguise, the mask being a trademark to his music making down in the shit slums, he'd pulled his hood up with its horn accommodating holes in the top and hunkered down at the far end of the bar to more or less stuff his face and watch two imps fight to give the bartender a blowie. Such had become the norm sight for him practically a year post-extermination that ended with him exterminated from heaven. Couldn't say he missed the meetings, but...he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing now? Clearly whatever it was involved being done with him since she'd stayed gone. Hadn't even made it out of the fiancé position before leaving him to drown in a ditch of his own blood- now that was some achievement, even for him.

It was only after another mouthful of misery-bound munching that he feels a twitch at the nape of his neck. Was someone...staring? Fallen angel or not, he still had his high degree of perception skills (mainly out of his usual wish of not having the other angels perceive him and his humanity displayed across his visage like a full-bodied scar) and it was clear to them that eyes of that not crowd-bound and rocking out were watching. When the screen of the phone Vox issued him lit up, he took the moment to try forget the fleeting feeling by flicking the face that popped up with his middle finger shortly before swiping at the screen to answer the call. "You seriously think I was in the bathroom this whole time? It's been like three hours, bruh- take a hint." He chirruped into the receiving end lying flat in an open talon and held unenthusiastically near his open-mouthed chewing, content for the moment. "I already got food. Can't hear me eating it? No... nuh-uh. Mmh..." Lips purse after he slides a glowing yellow tongue over them, and he flicks the phone again... for fun.

"Your download is past due again, Adam. And ANOTHER thing-...wait why's there an echo? Did you put me on speaker? Stop that."

Snort. "Oh no...krrzzzt...you're krzt! Krzzzzzt- breaking up! Krrrrzzzttttt!!"

"I'll break you up, you son of a bitch- get your ass back to home base NOW, or I will send out a search party-"

Click. One flick was all it took to quiet that mess down. Great, now he got to deal with the goonies. "Total Karen."

#//oh boy he's fucked #verse ; // dead on arrival #kugel-bitch #suggestive cw #nsft cw

[saffronjades]

Backfire.

Chloe's April Fool's plan was perfect. Her holiday with her best friend Ava fell right on April 1st - It just happened to be the cheapest week for hotels at the time they booked it. The fact of it being April Fools hadn't even crossed their mind at first. In fact, it *still* hadn't crossed Ava's mind. Chloe, though? Well, she had planned something a few nights prior.

Fart Spray.

She had seen it online in plenty of videos. The plan was simple but fool-proof: Wait until the two of them are in their 3-hour car ride together, and spray it. She'd pretend to be oblivious to the smell at first, before blaming the smell on Ava, and finally show her the spray. Ava had always been quite shy of her bodily functions, so Chloe knew that she would get embarrassed.

The issue was that Ava had opened the window. Not only making conversation difficult with the wind blasting into the vehicle, but any smell would escape instantly anyway.

Chloe had tried the basic "Oh, I'm cold, can we shut the window?"

Ava was insistent on keeping it open. Chloe didn't want to push any further, or it might become obvious that she had ulterior intentions... She'd just have to wait for the perfect opportunity.

Finally, they arrived at the hotel. They overcame the noise of the window by simply shouting their conversations at each other, but the window stayed up for the whole journey. The prank had not yet been pulled off.

"WE'RE FINALLY HERE!" Ava yelled.

"You're still shouting," Chloe laughed, "you're too used to it after three hours."

"OH, I DIDN'T --" Ava caught herself, "I didn't realise."

The two of them laughed as they head inside, got checked in at reception, and made their way to the elevator. As they stepped inside and Ava pressed the button for their floor, Chloe continued to wonder when the best chance for the prank might be. Perhaps when they're alone in their room? Her constant thinking almost made her miss the obvious opportunity right in front of her.

She glanced at Ava as the elevator door closed, to make sure she wasn't looking. Slowly, Chloe took the spray out of her pocket, and pressed it down slowly, making sure it didn't make a sound.

Little did she know, Ava was releasing a smelly spray of her own, *also* trying to not make a sound. She had done a great job at hiding her discomfort thus far, but she just couldn't hold her fart in any longer. She relaxed, perhaps subconsciously, and allowed it to release into the air around her. Feeling her stomach empty felt incredible, for a moment. Then the smell of the fart spray hit her.

Chloe, waiting for Ava to say something first, tried not to react.

Ava, thinking the stench was her own, tried not to react.

The two stood in the elevator for what seemed like minutes, breathing in the hideous odour. Ava felt so embarrassed, believing it to be an odour of her own making.

Chloe couldn't wait any longer - The elevator was nearly at their floor. "Did you fart?" She laughed and held her nose as she spoke, expecting Ava to get all flustered with a stubborn "No!"

She was right about the embarrassment, just wrong about the answer.

"Yes," Ava spoke softly, "I didn't think it'd smell so bad. I've been gassy all day, that's why I had the window open in the car."

Chloe remained speechless for a moment before she burst out laughing. "Wait you actually farted?" She held up her spray.

Ava pushed her gently, "Oh my god what the fuck?" She joined in with the laughter, "I thought the stench was because I farted!"

The doors opened during that last sentence. Specifically, as she loudly spoke those final 2 words - "I farted!"

Her gaze met with a gentleman waiting for the elevator on the top floor. He had *definitely* heard those two words, with his only context being the rancid smell now hitting his nose. Ava's face dropped as she squeezed past him, trying to get out of the situation as fast as possible. Chloe followed her quickly behind, with a slightly more cheeky look on her face as she tried to hide her smile.

"He totally thinks that was you," Chloe teased.

"Yeah. I know," Ava sheepishly replied.

"To be fair it could have been. Partially, at least," Chloe wondered allowed, half-jokingly. Ava turned to give her an evil glare. As she did, she saw the man distantly in the corridor behind them - He had opted to wait for the adjacent elevator. A very fair decision.

Ava and Chloe got unpacked and settled into their rooms. They hadn't planned to do much on their first day - In fact, it was already pitch black outside. They decided to just hang out in the hotel bar for an hour before bed.

"Hey," Chloe nudged Ava, "there's that guy who thinks your ass smells like death."

Ava turned around, hoping for it not to be true - Sure enough, though, there he was. Sat at the other side of the bar.

"Great," she spoke as she turned back to Chloe, "so I'm probably going to bump into him a few times whilst we're here."

"Oh lighten up, it's funny!"

Ava wasn't so sure of that. She sipped her drink and changed the topic, secretly hatching her own revenge plan.

After heading back to their room and saying goodnight, Chloe fell asleep quickly. Ava knew this would happen - A single drop of alcohol and she can practically sleep on command, even without being tipsy. She stared at her sleeping friend for a moment - She was innocent; fast asleep; unaware that she was going to be rudely awoken to the taste of revenge.

With the lights off, Ava searched for the fart spray, ready to release it under the duvet before pulling them over Chloe's head. As she continued into her fifth minute of searching, however, she began to wonder if her plan was too obvious. The spray had been hidden. The drawer? No. Chloe's bag? No. Her pockets? Nope. It had vanished.

As Ava was about to give up and crawl into her bed, she felt a bubble brewing below. Her stomach gurgled as she felt her butthole instinctively clench on a pocket of gas.

She stopped for a second before shaking it off. "No," she thought, "I'm too reserved for that. Chloe has never heard or smelt my farts."

She second guessed her choice for just a moment. But that moment was long enough for the spontaneous event to occur. "Fuck it," she said quietly to herself.

She lifted Chloe's duvet up slightly, and pushed. She made a gentle sigh of relief as she released her gasses directly into the bed. She felt her lower back get warm as some of the air escaped back out. It wasn't loud in the typical sense, but she could hear the hissing as it flowed out of her.

As it came to an end, she didn't quite feel empty. She leaned forward slightly and pushed once more.

A short but sharp *pprt* cut through the silent room.

She heard the duvet tussle slightly, and then Chloe's tired voice. "What was that?"

Quickly, Ava grabbed the blanket and trapped her inside, laughing manically.

"Oh my GOD, how did you find the spray? That fucking reeks worse than earlier what the fuck," Chloe yelled.

"I couldn't find it," Ava hinted at her devious doings, "I made my own spray."

Chloe burst out through a gap in the duvet's edge. "Ava what the fuck did you eat?" She laughed as she continued to gasp for air. The two of them fell to the bed as they continued giggling.

"I don't know, they're normally not like this," Ava claimed.

"Sure, sure."

They both calmed down for a moment as they caught their breath. Ava couldn't see Chloe's wide smile as she asked, "Hey, it's only fair you give it a smell," and lifted the blanket slightly. "Go on, see what you put me through."

Cautiously, Ava leaned towards it and sniffed - It was her own gas anyway, it couldn't be *that* bad.

She noticed Chloe's grunt too late.

*Pppppppppppppppptttttttttt*

Chloe released her own backside bomb as Ava got trapped in there with it. She heaved at the retched fragrance. Chloe wasn't too reserved about this - Ava had heard and smelt it before, but this was the worst.

"Get me out," she yelled as she managed to crawl to the other end of the bed and tumble to the floor.

"Shit are you okay?" Chloe was genuinely concerned for her friend - The hit on the floor sounded loud. "Ava?"

*ffff*

She felt a gentle breeze on her face, followed by the most rotten scent her nose had ever experienced. She could almost taste it.

Ava burst out laughing, revealing her position - Stood next to he bed, her butt right against Chloe's face.

Chloe gagged loudly before trapping Ava back under the blanket once more. Upon pushing, she exclaimed "Oh shit never mind, I got no more gas."

They released each other from the duvet and glanced at their phones - Midnight. April Fool's was officially over.

"Truce?"

Ava thought for a moment. "Truce. I think I gotta use the bathroom anyway."

Chloe laughed "I'm not surprised with that stench," -- a loud gurgle of her stomach interrupted her. "On second thought, me too."

#eproctophilia #fart #fart kink #farting #farts #gassy #gassy farts #gassy girl

[repurpose-yourself]

hey i was hoping you could turn me into a piece of gum unwillingly I loved your other gum tf

"There's only one stick of gum left," Griffin said, looking down at the table.

"That might be a problem," Amell replied, dumping a few dishes into the sink, "One of us will still have rancid breath after dinner, I guess."

Griffin watched his bear of a husband walk over to the table and sit down, "Well, not necessarily. It's just gum. We can split it."

"I don't know..." Amell said, raising his hairy arms and striking a pose, rallying his bulging muscles, "I may need you to do it. I'm just not strong enough to rip it in half."

"You're so obnoxious!" Griffin replied with a grin, his body just as bulky and hairy as Amell's.

fancydrblox awoke in a panic. The loud, deep voices rattled his confinement, which also prevented their faces from being seen. Moments earlier, he had been laying down on the couch, his head throbbing from an overwhelming migraine. He attempted to sleep, to calm his head. But he never accomplished that goal. Rather, the moment his eyes closed, he was whisked away to somewhere dark.

Griffin's wide, meaty hands reached for the gum and slowly pulled the wrapper off. fancydrblox felt weightless, immediately fearing the worst as blinding light engulfed its vision. Warm, rough fingers manipulated its body, causing it to bend and torque in ways that confused fancydrblox.

"You take one end..." Griffin said, holding the gum up, "And I will hold the other. Then we'll pull."

"Okay," Amell responded with a smile.

The two titans came into focus, sending fancydrblox into a frenzy. Being so small, so vulnerable was incomprehensible at the moment. Yet, Griffin and Amell's fingers were making short work of it. fancydrblox kept hearing the word 'gum', which finally brought understanding over the former human's predicament.

fancydrblox had some how become a stick of gum and two bears were about to rip it apart.

'Stop!' the gum screamed internally as its body started to strain.

Griffin and Amell simply pulled in opposite directions, tearing the stick into two pieces. fancydrblox cried out in pain, the former human's body now represented by two minty fresh objects. It agonized over the sudden parting while Griffin and Amell raised their respective pieces to their mouths.

There would be no hesitation on their end. fancydrblox found itself dropping into two waiting caverns, which were coated in saliva and giving off a horrendous, humid smell. If the gum could gag, it would have. Yet, it simply laid on moist tongues, taste buds consuming its minty flavor.

'Please don't do this!' the gum pleaded in its mind, which bounced between the two halves.

Simultaneously the bears tossed their gum over their teeth and started chewing. Sharping, dangerous white molars shred the waiting gum. fancydrblox screamed to itself as the vicious jaws articulated the destructive teeth. Complete darkness masked the gum's plight. To Griffin and Amell, they were only chewing gum.

Just then Amell coughed and swallowed hard.

"Are you okay?" Griffin asked, momentarily pausing his chewing.

Amell coughed a little more, "Yeah... yeah, I am. I accidentally swallowed my gum. Just too small of a piece."

One half of fancydrblox's body plunged down into the bear's stomach. It landed on gooey food the large man had consumed before. But it didn't remain still for long. Amell's stomach was already working through his food. It churned the contents, pulling the piece of gum under the surface.

'It burns!' the gum cried out.

Acid quickly ate away at the living gum, sealing the fate of half of the former human inside the giant's stomach. fancydrblox tried to focus on the one good piece, though still being mashed between Griffin's teeth. But the pain inside Ammel's stomach was too much to ignore. Assault from both sides drove the gum mad, especially without the ability to escape it.

"They say gum lasts in our stomachs for seven years," Griffin said, smiling as he kept chewing, unaware of the life he was torturing in his mouth.

"Bullshit," Amell replied.

"No. It's true. It helps our muscles become stronger," Griffin refuted.

Amell stood up and walked over to Griffin, kissing the man on the head, "I'm surprised you even had room for dinner, since there's so much shit pouring of your mouth right now."

Griffin looked at his husband as the large man turned away. He spit his gum out, aiming for Amell. But fancydrblox didn't make it far. The ball of wet gum landed on the kitchen floor, only a few feet from Griffin. Amell heard Griffin try to spit and looked back, seeing the gum on the floor.

"You shoot further in the bedroom than you can spit," Amell replied with a smirk, as he walked over to the gum, "Let me get it for you."

Feeling from the portion of gum in Amell's stomach finally started to fade. fancydrblox sighed, finding some relief in it, despite a part of its body now dissolving away in the giant's body. But the panic soon returned when Amell's wide foot lifted over and stomped down, twisting back and forth like the large man was extinguishing a cigarette.

"There," Amell said, lifting his foot up to Griffin, "Want you gum back?"

"You're disgusting!" Griffin shot back.

Amell grabbed onto a kitchen chair and slowly rolled the gum off his hard sole. The living gum was wet enough yet that it came off fairly easily. fancydrblox felt disgusted and ashamed, a mere toy and tool for the giant bears.

Amell's thick fingers balled the gum up and tossed it into the trash, where it stayed for a few days. Other trash piled on top of fancydrblox, further cementing its place in the world. Eventually its suffering would end, though, once the garbage bag was taken out and tossed into a burn barrel in the backyard, just like everything else that was used up and thrown away...

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #inanimate object #gum tf #unaware tf #nonconsensual tf

[letters-from-the-gaps]

Letter to a Name that Isn't Mine (Anymore)

A letter I wrote to a version of myself that can't exist, for my sake.

TW: Grief and dysphoria and the general trauma of growing up trans. Take care of yourselves.

My love,

    My dear, my darling. How are you? How have you been? It’s been a little too long since I last wrote, and all I can do is offer apology. Whether or not you accept is your call. Time has been formless and shifting these days, and I find myself more often than not adrift in it all. Unmoored. I moved yesterday; I’m finishing the move today, maybe into tomorrow; on the first of June I’ll move again. To be honest, it’s up there with the worst things I’ve had to do. I genuinely hate it. Alas! Come the first I’ll be in a house! With a kitchen! It’s just up Alder, and I’ll stay till mid August when I go back for Passages. In continuing with the trend of doing college the same way dad did, I’m going to be an orientation leader, too.

    It’s been hard, my love, who’s name sounds like [it is too early and the canyon is quiet and cool and the only sounds are birdsong and enginegrowl and musichum and you are at peace and it is all soft]. Still, her death aches raw and rancid, an open wound I am sometimes lucky enough to simply forget about. Every bumblebee is a moment of remembrance, a pause, a second where I might just lose it, wherever I am. It is hard. It is so hard. Mom and Dad are going through her things, and while I am beyond grateful that I will be able to keep anything of hers I hate that this is how it happens. You want to know something especially unpalatable? I likely won’t need loans for school, on account of selling the house. It strikes me as deeply, deeply unfair that in order for good fortune like that to come my way it must cost me a life. Especially hers. I don’t know how long it will hurt, my love, who’s name sounds like [the surf is slate gray as the sky above and the fog is just barely peeling back and the golden grains of sand between your toes are the most solid things you’ve known in months and gulls cry overhead], I don’t know how long it will take before this wound has even started to scab. I don’t know how long it will take for me to stop picking at it once it has.

    But, God above, it has been good too. Please, please, even with all these ill tidings, even with how dire I know It seems to you now, it gets better. It got better, even: the other day I took a drive in the sunrise, I watched the sun spill out over the sound golden and bright and brilliant as it lit up the water and I nearly wept behind the wheel. It was beautiful, my love, whose name sounds like [mom puts her head in her hands to muffle laughter as you and dad trade jokes back and forth like broken signal towers and you’re all crying now but god it feels so good to laugh so hard], it was everything I wanted it to be. There are more of these days to be found as the summer rolls in, warm nights and clear mornings. Everything is in bloom. Everything is green, and lush, and alive. It is so so green. It is so green.

    I miss you, you know. My love, whose name sounds like [weeping and sniffling under a not-enough fan in the early morning of a place that hates you almost as much as you hate it], my darling dearest, I miss you. I do not regret what I did, to be truthful, because if I had not buried you shallow I never would’ve made it here, but I do regret that I buried you at all. I should’ve burned you, should’ve dropped you into the cool sea, should’ve let the coyotes get you. I should have allowed you the chance to become something more than a corpse. I’m sorry. But I hope you and I can make peace with it, somehow. You can’t be back, my love, whose name sounds like [blue canary in the outlet with the light switch who watches over you make a little birdhouse in your soul], because I will not give back the ground I have bled for, but I do think I can find a better place to lay you to rest. You might never be able to walk Tacoma’s shores, but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you three feet deep in Orange County.

    I know it will never be enough. I’ll still try anyways, because I have to. Because who else will? But I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I miss you dearly, and I am fiercely glad we are not the same anymore. I still hope you’re well, somehow, behind me as you are.

Love,

Love,

Love,

Me, Whose name sounds like

[Say I’m the only B in your bonnet make a little birdhouse in your soul]

#poetry #prose #new writeblr #the trans experience #from between the gaps

[mneiaifics]

Throne of Glass Fic: A Gift for Ideas

Ship: Dorian Havilliard/Erawan

Summary: Instead of offering up herself to Erawan, Maeve gives him something far more tempting. Dark Kingdom of Ash Morath arc AU.

Warning: Mind Manipulation

XxXxX

“Can Erawan be seduced by anyone?”

He could have sworn disgust flitted over her pale face before she said, “He can.”(1)

Dorian stared at himself in the mirror, relying on his magic to keep his pulse steady, breathing even. The black robes Maeve had set upon him were lovely, contrasting with the bronze of his skin, which itself she had suggested dusting with a fine sparkle.

“You hand me over and gain more of his favor while I gain enslavement,” he muttered, feeling more like a courtesan than a king.

“I have spoken to him more since first we met, his motivations are not so simple. And he has not seen this version of yourself, has not witnessed what you are becoming. He will be most pleased, enough that you can keep your will.”

Fool that he was, he had assumed up until the last moment that Maeve meant to seduce Erawan. “He has little interest in Queens,” she had dropped, as she proffered the garment woven from her own magic.

“I would think he had little interest in humans,” he had replied, then stalled at her answer.

“Oh, come now, we both know why that won’t matter in your case.”

Now, he tugged one last time on a piece of jewelry Maeve had adorned him with and stood from the vanity. He hid a grimace, looking himself over once more, before following her out of the room.

The plan was reckless, hopeless, suicidal. Erawan hated him, had every reason to shove another collar on him and keep him as a mindless pet. Or, at least, he’d more or less confirmed that when Dorian had posed as Vernon. As long as someone kept the keys from Erawan, kept him from reuniting with his brothers, he would hate them.

That Maeve insisted differently should mean nothing.

But they needed his key. They needed into Erawan’s tower.

”You know who I am, what I am. Tell him I have come, with a gift.”(2)

One of the guards broke off and entered the tower, returning soon after. Dorian had only moments to second guess the plan again before the door opened. The wind and rancid smell hit Dorian all at once, forcing him to brace himself with his magic, cold wrapped around his core.

“We have a meeting tomo–” Erawan cut himself off when he realized Maeve was not alone. His nostrils flared, his oily power reached out to encompass Dorian, poking and prodding, as if searching for how to break n spell set upon a servant. “A marvelous illusion, sister, I was not aware you were so well-acquainted with this one.”

Dorian looked at Maeve, who had something like triumph glittering in her eyes. She set her hand on his head, leaning close so her lips were brushing his cheek. He gave a flicker of his eyes away from her, a hint of disgust at the intimacy that he knew Erawan would spot.

“Dorian,” he breathed, lips stretching into a sharp smile. “Here to return to your proper place?”

He tilted his head up, to the side, a move that both looked like he was focusing on Erawan and moving away from Maeve’s touch. “I have…overestimated the grace that certain individuals are capable of giving.”

This was no different than the excuses he’d fed Maeve and he knew she believed them, but she didn’t know him. Perrington had known Dorian all his life, might see through him where a stranger, even one with access to his mind, might not.

Instead, Erawan gave him a knowing look. “We tried so hard to warn you, but you always did have to learn things the hard way, didn’t you?” He held out a hand with a graceful swoop of his arm, palm upward in offer. “What a gracious gift, sister. I will enjoy it to its fullest.”

Dorian set his hand in Erawan’s, saw Maeve begin to speak, and then he was through the door, which was already closed behind them. Erawan encouraged him to follow, never releasing his hold on Dorian’s hand, his magic encircling him like some constricting serpent, though wary of the sharp edges of ice within him.

“It is so difficult, forced to ally with those we can never trust, isn’t it, little king?”

“Then why do it? She’s not much use anymore, is she? She reached too far and lost her own kingdom.”

“She’s insufferable, but she is family.”

They reached a bedroom. It was…just a bedroom. Nothing wicked or magical. Most importantly, no collars that Dorian could spy. It felt like Erawan, though, like darkness and death, and a Wyrdkey as well.

He’d been right. It was here.

Now he just had to find it and somehow get out of there with it.

Erawan’s grip on his hand changed and he brought it up to his lips, brushing over the back of it. The cool touch of the smooth skin made Dorian shiver, an odd feeling resonating within him.

“I am surprised you wish to deal with me. When Maeve first informed me, I thought it was naught but a trap.” Dorian raised his eyebrows, meeting Erawan’s stare with a look he hoped was every bit as cruel as the Valg could give.

“If you had faced me as an enemy, I would tear you apart, leave the tattered remains of you to the princes for their fun,” Erawan breathed the words as if they were meant to be seductive. “But here you are, voluntarily returning, admitting your foolishness.” He reeled Dorian in with his hand, their fronts pressed together. “A child must be allowed to make mistakes, after all.”

“You collared me,” Dorian reminded, barely managing to keep his temper.

Erawan scoffed. “Your father did that. If I had been there, I would have taken my time with you, made sure to educate you as you needed. But your time with an occupant wasn’t without its benefits, was it? You learned so very much…about pain, about pleasure, didn’t you?”

The memories came unbidden, his mental walls slipping just enough for Erawan to glance within and know he was right, that some part of him had broken under the prince’s attention. His power leaked into the room, hints of frost forming on the windows.

A noise sounded from nearby–the bed, Dorian realized, eyes widening as he spotted the outline of a human form. “Here I thought you’d want me to yourself,” he managed.

“Oh, Dorian, don’t be jealous. You outshine that creature.” Erawan slipped around him, pressing his chest to Dorian’s back, and encouraged him to step towards the bed.

There was a woman, frail and hollowed out, her arm pulsing with dark veins. She resembled Kaltain, he thought, her dark hair cascading about her like a halo, though her skin must have been darker at some point before growing pale as death. A collar rested around her neck, gleaming with hideous intent up at Dorian.

She had the Wyrdkey within her.

He would need to distract Erawan long enough to slice it from her arm and flee.

“Maeve made it sound as though you were uninterested in women.”

Erawan chuckled, cool breath brushing against Dorian’s ear and making him shiver. “It’s just a human, Dorian, I have found some idle enjoyment in its body, but no more than any toy could give me.”

He glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of those golden eyes. “And I? Am I not also simply a human toy?”

“You still haven’t realized it, have you?” He was spun around, pushed back, his knees buckling as they hit the bed and suddenly he was sitting on it, beside the woman, Erawan looming over him. “You’re so beautiful, Dorian. I had always wondered why you captured my attention so often, despite myself.”

Dorian went as he was pushed further onto the bed, worried at Erawan’s mood. He watched as long, manicured fingers reached out, picking up a lock of the woman’s limp hair and sliding through it.

“Dark haired and so willful under their obedient demeanor,” Erawan murmured, “but never who I truly wanted.”

The odd thrumming inside of Dorian contrasted with the sickness building in the pit of his stomach. Erawan had known him since he was a babe, Dorian himself was only a few years into his majority, had he truly been lusting after him for so long?

“I hope you do not think I will allow you to shove a wyrdkey under my flesh.”

Erawan dropped the woman’s hair, attention fully focused on Dorian. “Have no fear, little king, my plans involve no pain you will not enjoy.”

He would counter that, would claim he wanted no pain at all, but he wasn’t sure if Erawan would somehow see through the lie. Or perhaps all Valg, and their descendants, enjoyed such things, as he and Manon had.

“Do you want it? Do you want me?” Erawan was looming over him, so close to real touches, and the shadows of the room seemed to surge around them until Dorian couldn’t even notice the other person there.

“Please,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Please, Erawan.”

Even Valg had their weaknesses, watching Dorian beg him certainly spurred Erawan onward, their mouths crashing together. His nails felt sharper, tearing into Dorian’s skin, and he responded on instinct, biting harshly. Oily Valg blood filled his mouth and he had to fight not to gag. Erawan did not move away and Dorian breathed harshly through his nose until he couldn’t anymore, until he had to swallow.

It felt slimy, sliding down his throat, heavy and cold in his belly, but he was quickly distracted by Erawan’s wandering hands.

The passion igniting inside of him didn’t feel like he’d had before, he could not describe it in terms of lust or fire. Instead it was a rightness, a clawing need from the deepest pits of himself as Erawan licked the blood from the cuts he’d made before continuing lower, taking all of Dorian in his mouth.

His orgasm, when it came, was no relief, he needed more, his own fingers twisted into talons as he grasped at Erawan, begging in earnest. And Erawan gave, taking him with such exquisite pain that Dorian forgot it wasn’t pleasure.

He lost track of time, if days had passed outside the room he would have no way of knowing. There was only Erawan, whose body twisted between what Dorian could see and what he could perceive, who shoved torn fingers into Dorian’s mouth so he could suckle at the blood that dripped from them, who filled Dorian in every way, over and over again.

When their coupling was finally over, Dorian lying sprawled across Erawan’s body, he spared a thought to Maeve and if she’d really not known to warn him.

“She would not, she never allowed my brother so close,,” Erawan assured him, and it took Dorian long moments to realize he was responding to a thought and not spoken words.

He sucked in a sharp breath, stretching out the senses that were beyond the physical, finding the sheets of ice that protected his mind…and a crack bored through them, a perfect indentation shaped just for Erawan to access.

He’d filled his mind, too, at the end, stroking him to greater pleasure.

With full access to his thoughts, his memories, Dorian realized with a tinge of horror what that meant.

Erawan smiled at him, his soft amusement filtering through the bond he’d forced into place. “I will retrieve the other keys in the morn. You will face no punishment for a plan that you could have never carried through. My dear sister, though, perhaps needs a firmer hand before I return her to my brother.”

Even with the threat to his somewhat-ally, Dorian couldn’t force himself to worry, not with the lazy contentment that Erawan now enforced in his mind. It was better, he thought, then what Maeve would surely do in his thoughts. And so very much better than a collar, than being a passenger in his own body.

Beside them, the human let out a distressed groan, but they both ignored it, Dorian fading into sleep as Erawan stroked a hand through his hair, whispering of the wonders of his homeworld that Dorian would soon experience.

XxXxX

I didn't even know where I was going with this until I got there lol I had about three or four other endings I had thought of, but this was the one that got written.

The title comes from a Maeve quote, chapter 73 of Kingdom of Ash, "The collars are one of his more brilliant creations. Neither of his brothers was clever enough to come up with it. But Erawan—he always had a gift for ideas."

(1) Direct quote, Chapter 73 (2) Slightly changed quote, Chapter 73

#dorian havilliard #erawan #ship: erawan/dorian #theme: valg dorian #fandom: throne of glass

[with-love-from-hell]

Recovery

Commission by @fickleminder

Character prominently featured: Satan

F!Mc, written under the name Kirana and she/her pronouns are used. Descriptors for this Mc are also used (e.g. hair color, mentions of blushing/skin tone indicators)

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Context for the fic request here and here. TLDR: this is written in the aftermath of a kidnapping. 

WC: ~6k

CW: Kidnapping, depictions of various trauma responses (e.g. insomnia, nightmares/night terrors, flashbacks, panic attacks, anxiety, mild restrictive eating, dissociation), some depictions of blood/gore

Want to commission me? Information on commissions can be found here

The moisture in the air is hanging thick- making it difficult to take a solid breath. It’s hot- hotter than the hell that she had become so accustomed to- no...this was different.  The intense humidity causes sticky beads of sweat to trickle down her brow as she squirms, trying desperately to evade whatever force was pinning her to the ground. Unlike last time, she is able to see and hear what’s going on around her- and while she initially thought that would be better, dear god its somehow worse. She can move around somewhat, but the attempts to wriggle herself flee from her invisible binds get her nowhere.  

...why was this happening again??

In the midst of her desperate squirming, a distant growl and the sounds of scuttering across the dark room put a newly formed fear into Kirana’s chest. Her movements falter as she stared into the darkness around her. Imprinted scents of the rancid smell of the beast’s breathe against her face manifested, causing her to gag. It was the worst smell she had ever encountered by far, and was made 10 times worse when it mingled with the scent of iron from her own blood... 

And the blood...Oh, there was so much blood...

As the movements draw near, Kirana’s attempts became more panicked, more desperate. The moment she saw the beast’s jaw unhinge in the dark- somehow appearing directly above her in mere seconds- she let out a horrified scream that could probably be heard throughout the entirety of the Devildom. The terror in that moment seeping through every inch of her as she felt the searing pain of 1000 suns scorch her body.

...

Kirana bolted upright in bed, finally able to jolt her body back to reality. Her chest heaved with every uneven breath, trying desperately to savor each one- as if she’d never breathe again. Then came the nausea, the pounding headache, the unstoppable tears. She gripped herself tightly as the horror-stricken cries pushed forth, the only sound coming through her slightly parted lips being soft whimpers and stuttered breaths. She tried desperately to reassure herself it was just a dream, but the efforts seemed fruitless as the horrific images continued plaguing her mind.

“Kirana?” 

A deep voice through the door echoed through her head. At first, it almost sounded distorted, taking on a quality much like that of her kidnapper. It took a minute to process that source as her brain came down from the panic, but upon realizing it was Lucifer, she breathed a sign of relief. 

When she didn’t respond verbally, the eldest brother let himself into her room. Through the door, she could see the worried faces of the other 6 brothers, each trying to steal a peak into the room to ensure she was okay. She locked eyes briefly with Satan, noticing the pained expression on his face before the door closed off her view of him. 

Why was he looking at me like that? 

“Are you alright?” Lucifer sat on the edge of Kirana’s bed, searching her eyes for signs she was in pain. 

There was no doubt he had heard her screaming from the awful nightmare, but Kirana tried to play it off as just a fluke. She gave him a weak smile, that was very much unconvincing of her well-being. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” 

In reality, Kirana was everything but fine. It was in her nature to be more passive and try to brush past upsetting things. Hell, she did it with most of the brothers during the first few months she had lived here. But since everything had calmed down and there wasn’t much left to be worried about, she really didn’t want them to thing anything was really wrong with her. 

Lucifer lifted an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Its okay to still be disturbed by what happened, you know. It’s only been a couple of days.” 

She didn’t really want to discuss the dream with him, or any of the brothers, for that matter. But more than that, she didn’t want to worry anyone. Kirana tried her best to form a more convincing smile, waving Lucifer’s concern off like she was batting away a fly. “Really, It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a bad dream, is all.” 

Lucifer paused for a moment, staring at her. Kirana’s reasoning sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of that rather than him. After a minute of tense silence and Kirana’s aversion of eye contact, he shook his head. “We want to be here for you as much as we can be. We’re all worried about you- especially Satan. Please don’t shut us out if you’re struggling.” 

Wait...especially Satan...? What did he mean by that...?

Kirana nodded. “I’ll let you guys know if I need anything, but really...I’m fine. I promise!” 

He was still not convinced, but also didn’t feel any value in pressing her any further.  “Very well, I’ll leave you to rest then.” 

Lucifer stood and approached the door once more. Before he opened the door though, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Just remember that you do not have to be the sole proprietor of this burden. We want to help when we can.” 

Kirana winced and gave a small nod. As he opened the door, Kirana noticed that the other brothers (spare for Satan) had backed away from the door. His glistening emerald eyes stared into hers from the hallway, as if trying to communicate something to her. Just as she thought she was able to get a read on the silent message he was trying to convey, the connection was lost once again when Lucifer closed the door. After a moment of quiet murmuring, she heard bodies shuffling and the shadows cast underneath her door moved out of view. 

Kirana flopped back down onto her pillow with an exasperated sigh. There was no way she was going to get more sleep tonight, so staring at the ceiling for a bit would have to do until she figured out something to do with her time. Her mind wandered to what Lucifer had said about Satan, and she found herself pondering why on earth the eldest brother singled him out. Sure, he was the closest brother to her, and he was the one who came to her side during the events proceeding the kidnapping...

But what else to that is there? 

Well...not that it was a particularly bad thing that he was extra concerned, I suppose. 

Kirana shook her head. Wait, what am I thinking! The last thing I want is for him to fixate on whether or not I’m okay!

Or...maybe he’s concerned because he knows I like him. 

Maybe...maybe he likes me back?!

No, no...don’t be ridiculous.  That’s impossible!

A soft cough pulled her attention back to the light flooding in from under her door and away from the internal battle her thoughts were fighting.  She noticed one shadow still remained. Faintly, the scent of parchment and ink drifted into her nostrils, providing her with an odd sense of calm. 

----------------------------------------------------

“Kiraaanaaa...” Asmo cooed in his quietest sing-song voice, trying to gently jostle the human awake without drawing the attention of the others in the classroom. “Hey, Kirana! Wake up, sleepy!”

She groaned, reluctantly opening her eyes. Kirana didn’t even remember falling asleep, but given the professor was still going on and on endlessly with their mundane lecture, it was natural that she would- especially given all she had been through. Besides, even if she hadn’t been kidnapped, falling asleep in Devildom History wasn’t completely unheard of. Even Mammon was passed out at his table a few feet away from how dry the lecture was. 

Kirana rubbed her bloodshot eyes, trying desperately to wake herself up. Her voice was raspy with sleep as she spoke. “Urgh...What did I miss?” 

Asmo giggled. “Not much. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy looking at your cute sleeping face!” 

Kirana flushed, looking down at her drool-covered notebook. “Seriously, Asmo...” 

He giggled in response, continuing to stare at her face as he bounced his foot atop his other leg. “You know dear, it’s unlike you to fall asleep during class... and you seem to be much more sluggish than usual...Are you getting enough sleep? If you want, I could-”

“I’m fine, Asmo.” Kirana interrupted him, maybe a little too sternly. “No need to worry.” 

Asmo’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he let it go.

Kirana attempted to process the blurry lines on the chalkboard where the professor had been writing important notes about the Celestial War, but the words seemed to run together and she couldn’t make sense of it. After a minute of trying desperately to focus, Kirana instead decided to look about the room. If the lecture couldn’t keep her awake, she would have to find something else to look at that would, or else she would never hear the end of it from Lucifer...or so she was convinced. 

While she had accommodations for her classes and was slowly eased back in to RAD work, she found herself worried of becoming a disappointment. Sure, the events of that day were rough, but it wasn’t anything that she couldn’t work herself through! The extra help was nice, but part of her felt like taking it was proving how weak she was, and that’s not something she was willing to accept- even if the extra support would have saved her a lot of grief...especially considering she hadn’t gotten more than 2 hours of sleep per night for the past 10 days.  Lucifer even encouraged her repeatedly to accept the help, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was a test of will. She could power through if she just tried hard enough...

Right..?

Kirana yawned, feeling the exhaustion creep steadily within her once more. Her eyelids began to droop, and soon enough she was fast asleep again with her head resting in her palm. Asmo continued trying to jostle her awake when he noticed her drifting off, but she couldn’t muster the strength to be up for more than a few minutes. Obviously, no information from the lecture stuck with her.

Satan looked on from a table toward the back of the room. The concern he felt for Kirana was ever-growing, and he wondered desperately how he could help her. Her fatigue in class was so out-of-character, as she was always very studious and wanted to make a good impression on Lucifer and Diavolo. While he admired her intelligence, he knew that the incident could very well disrupt her studies. But now...she was just so different. What had made Kirana who she was had been slipping before his eyes ever since she returned from the attack- and it’s not like he could even blame her for it. 

Satan himself found his own sanity slowly dwindling as he obsessed over his guilt. He blamed himself for her kidnapping and all of the trauma that came with it, and he was sure she felt the same. He had convinced himself in hindsight that everything that happened was preventable, despite the fact that in reality, it was all truly just simple mindlessness that could have befallen anyone- particularly given the fact that Kirana had been able to hold her own in the Devildom without incident prior to this. 

The urge he felt to protect her after this only increased, and he felt a burning desire to confess to her his attraction, but he figured this would be the worst time to do it. He feared that if his love couldn’t fix the damage done by Kirana’s assailant...then maybe nothing could. Regardless though, he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit back anymore while Kirana wasted away- body, mind, and soul. Her gaunt-looking face, exhausted eyes, pale complexion, and trembling extremities told him he needed to act sooner rather than later. Perhaps tonight would be his opportunity to finally help in his own way. 

----------------------------------------------------

The same musty room engulfed her in darkness. 

The same rancid breath produced bouts of nausea in the pit of her stomach. 

The same crushing binds cut off her access to oxygen and crushed her rib-cage.

The same situation continued its grotesque and endlessly simulation in her slumber until she finally jerked awake. 4 times tonight already. Fortunately, Kirana had become quieter in her stirring from the nightmares, so the brothers weren’t bothered in the wee morning hours in which their rest was the most plentiful. She hated putting them out of their well-needed rest, given they all had such important duties as Student Council Officers. She always felt so guilty when they looked at her with those somber, pitiful eyes. 

She tried to gain control of her labored breaths, crying softly to herself. When would the nightmares end? All she wanted was some peace. But even in the most restful state she had, the image of her captor’s maw closing around her neck still plagued her mind. 

She shuddered. Maybe scrolling through Devilgram will take my mind off things. 

Kirana rolled onto her stomach and scrolled through her phone mindlessly for what felt like hours, but time seemed to pass at a snails pace. Another symptom of the attack perhaps? Time seemed to almost exist as an illusion to her, even in waking hours. Classes dragged on, and on, and on with seemingly no end as she fought back sleep, and the sleepless nights seemed to last for centuries. 

Each mealtime with the brothers seemed to be the same every day- the same arguments and conversations, the same feelings of exhaustion and emptiness, and the same bland-tasting food.  Ugh...the food. It didn’t matter what was made or who made it, the food didn’t even really seem to have any taste anymore either, so her appetite had dwindled to nearly non-existent. Even Satan making her favorite meal couldn’t bring the excitement of the new and enticing foods in the Devildom back. It all just tasted like...sand? or maybe dirt?

Or maybe it just tasted like nothing. Just as she felt inside.  

Kirana turned over on her side, clutching a pillow to her chest and fighting back another crying spell- the frequency of which also becoming more commonplace as the days dragged on. With each passing hour, she felt more and more volatile in her emotions- becoming irritable at the slightest of inconveniences, and becoming inconsolable over something as simple as spilt milk. Her usual laid-back demeanor had shifted to one of high alert, never letting her guard down enough to be truly genuine with anyone- even with the 7 demons she had come to know and love throughout her time in Devildom. 

Even the little help that she did accept had only done minor damage control. The soft orange light of the lamp given to her by Asmo on her bedside table helped her escape the darkness of her room, but it couldn’t shield her from the darkness that occurred when she closed her eyes. The pendant of protection Satan gave her was always around her neck, but she sometimes wondered if it did truly work given how jumpy she always felt wherever she went. The brother’s distractions helped a little until they became less of a distraction and more of a tool to fuel her dissociation. She began to wonder if this is all there was after the attack, the thoughts sending her into a spiral of hopelessness until the ping of her phone going off interrupted her thoughts. 

Satan:  Is everything okay? 

Kirana:  Huh..?

Satan:  I walked by your room and saw the light on under the door.

Satan:  I assumed you were awake, which is rare for you this time of night. 

Kirana:  Oh, haha. I’m fine. I’ll fall asleep eventually. It was just a bad dream that woke me.

Satan: A bad dream?

Kirana:  Oh, haha. Yeah, they happen sometimes. Not to worry though, I’m okay. 

Kirana:  Anyways, What are you doing awake and roaming?

Satan:  I’m making some tea. Would you like to join me since you can’t seem to sleep? 

Kirana:  It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m okay, thank you for the offer though. 

Satan:  Are you sure?

Kirana: Yeah, it’s not super unusual for me since...uh...

Kirana:  Well, you know.

Kirana watched as the “typing” indicator appeared, and then disappeared numerous times. Anxiety built up in her stomach at the prospect of Satan replying with something very judgmental or dismissive. However, thoughts are pushed away when a knock at her bedroom door makes Kirana nearly jump out of her skin. 

“AH! Uhh-” She tries to settle the high-pitched volume in her voice. “W-who’s there?” 

The door creaks open to reveal a very concerned looking Satan, holding two tea cups with his left index and ring finger. “May I come in? I apologize if I startled you.” 

Kirana nods hesitantly, watching closely as Satan maneuvered carefully into her bedroom. He approaches her bed, sitting on the foot of it after resting one of the tea cups on the night stand next to her.

“I know you said you didn’t care for any tea, but I made you some anyway. It’s supposed to help with sleep.” He commented, taking a nervous sip from his own cup. “I...I know that’s something that’s been difficult for you lately.”

Kirana pulls in her bottom lip and nods, turning her gaze away to stare at the vaguely purple liquid in the small cup. It’s quiet for a moment as Satan remains planted on the edge of the bed, and Kirana leans against the headboard, knees pulled up to her chest. 

Satan clears his throat after a moment, deciding to just go for what he wanted to say rather than overthinking his words or beating around them. “I worry about you, you know.” 

Kirana perks up, attention now fully on the blonde demon before her. A light blush dusts his cheeks as he stares at the tea in his hand, the sweet image producing a small flutter in Kirana’s heart.

“Pardon?” 

Satan snaps his eyes attention up to meet hers, no hesitation evident in his reply. “I worry about you. All the time...Ever since you were kidnapped you’ve been...well...different I guess. And it makes sense as to why you would be. The whole thing was pretty messed up...”

Satan takes a breath, searching her eyes for any signs that she had something to say. Instead, she stared past him, seemingly not wanting to acknowledge what he was saying. He knew Kirana could give Lucifer a run for his money in terms of stubbornness, so perhaps he needed to try a different approach.

“Uh- I know you haven’t talked to anyone about what happened really, but...maybe...you should? You know I’m always here to lend an ear...right?” 

Kirana bites the inside of her cheek and shrugs. She was unsure of how to feel with how candid Satan was being. He had seemingly been avoiding her for the past week or so, so why was he offering to talk now? As if reading her thoughts, Satan continued. 

“I’m not going to push you if you don’t want to...I just...I’ve observed what holding it in has been doing to you, and...and honestly, it scares me.” He pauses. “Perhaps that’s why I’ve been more distant than usual, but I don’t...I don’t want to be. I know you want to do this on your own, and I want to try to respect that, but...I worry that my negligence will result in losing you again.” 

“Again?” Kirana furrowed her brow.. “what do you mean by that?” 

“I...I...” Satan squeezes the cup tighter as his hands begin to tremble. The steaming liquid sloshes around, droplets splashing off the rim and onto his lap as he fought back tears. “It’s all my fault. If I had been there...If I had just paid more attention...” 

Kirana nearly gasped as his assertion. She was now wide awake and her attention now fully on Satan as she leans forward toward him. “What? No! No, it’s not your fault!” 

He shook his head. “It’s true. I was supposed to walk you home. If I had been there, none of this would have happened. I neglected you, and it resulted in something terrible. So, I do understand if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but if you would- please talk to somebody...” 

“Satan, I don’t blame you at all.” Kirana moves her hand so that it lightly grazes his forearm.

Satan shrugged. “Perhaps you should.”

“You’re being stupid.” Kirana scolds, scooting closer to the middle-born so that she could sit side-by-side next to him. 

“Excuse me?” 

Kirana sighs, playing with the ends of her hair. “Look, it was a shitty situation. And clearly it’s still impacting me more than I’d like it to, but...I’m safe now. And you’re the one to thank for that.” 

Satan stared, unblinking at his tea. His silence offered an indication that he still wasn’t convinced. 

Kirana dropped her hair, instead moving to ground herself by gripping her thighs. “Do you even know how relieved I was when I realized it was you who was with me? When I was able to smell you near?” 

He brought his gaze back up to Kirana, puzzled by her words. “Uh...smelled me..?” 

“...Ummm...” Kirana blushes, immediately realizing she should have maybe picked a better choice in words to avoid sounding weird. She sighs, deciding push on. “Well...yeah. I mean...Gah, this is kind of embarrassing, but...I wasn’t able to see or hear, so I could only rely on my sense of smell, and...uh...” 

 At her pause, Satan looked at her with wide, shimmering eyes. “Please...do go on.” 

“Well...you smelled like...I dunno...Ink and old paper.” She paused, feeling her face heat up further in embarrassment. She looks down to the floor as she continues to speak. “It wasn’t really that I realized it was you right away. Like, I was able to figure it out, but I just...I somehow knew the scent meant I was going to be safe.” 

There’s a pause of silence between the two. Satan ponders over her words for a moment, searching for their meaning. Kirana hesitates before continuing. 

“Anyway...I wont just sit here and let you blame yourself for that. You always make me feel comfortable and safe and...and...I’m glad it was you.” 

“Kirana, I-” 

“I’m not finished.” She glances back up at Satan, finding a bit more courage to say what was on her mind. She noticed him staring at her with mist in his eyes, completely unprepared for her bold words. “When I was...or, well- When I thought I was going to- you know...die...All I could think about was you. I was so scared, and thinking about you was the only thing that made me bear through it all...but, I was also worried that I wouldn’t be able to see you again...to tell you...”

Kirana pauses, unsure of how to finish her statement. The confidence she felt begins to dwindle upon realizing that she is pouring her heart out to someone who may not reflect the same emotions. 

Satan inches closer so that their legs touch. “Tell me...what?” 

Kirana feels her face go completely red, bringing her hands up to shield it from view. “Come on, don’t make me say it...isn’t it obvious by now??” 

Satan lets out a soft chuckle as he nudges her hand with his pinky. “Perhaps not as much as you’d suspected...But I can assure you, I share the sentiment.” 

Kirana feels her heart stop and she whips her head up to stare at him. “H-huh?!” 

He pauses for a moment, thinking over his words. “Let me put it this way, Kirana. I haven’t felt fear often in my life, and I do not typically get ‘scared’ of...well, anything really...But never in my life did I feel so much terror as the night you went missing- when I realized something wasn’t right; that you could be in danger; that the state of your being fell on me and I...I could be too late to save you. I was practically sick to my stomach when I realized I had never confessed how I feel about you, and that the opportunity may have been missed...I didn’t want to have to hold onto that anymore.”

He stares into Kirana’s eyes, ensuring the deepest of meaning is held within the deep green orbs. He then takes her hand in his. Kirana holds her breath, unsure of how to even react to such an unexpected confession. 

“I need to tell you now...that I-” Satan swallows hard, nerves suddenly reemerging. “I-I’m desperately in love with you. and I have been for quite some time.” 

Kirana stares at him in near disbelief, unsure of how to respond. After a moment of silence, Satan’s nervousness emerges, wanting some sort of validation that she felt the same. 

“Can I assume you return my feelings?” He searched her eyes for signs of doubt, but saw none. 

“I- yes. Of course” Kirana smiled. Her eyes went glossy as she tried to hold back tears, not wanting to feel further embarrassment by the rollercoaster of emotions she was experiencing. “I love you too Satan...you’re the only one I want.”

Satan felt a wave of relief was over his body. He squeezed Kirana’s hand a bit tighter, feeling a giddy sense of joy come over him. Though, he didn’t forget why he had come to her room in the first place. 

“Well, now that this is out of the way...should I let you get back to sleep? I’m sure the effects of the tea are kicking in already.” 

Kirana bit her lip, looking sheepishly down at the floor. “Actually...Could I maybe stay the night in your room? It would be nice to have someone there...if I have another nightmare.” 

Satan beamed, pleased to see she was finally asking for help. Before he could attempt to reply though, Kirana’s anxiety got the better of her as she blurted out a cushion statement before his words were even out. “I-it’s okay if you don’t want me to. I don’t want to burden you or anything so-” 

Before she could continue, Satan brought a hand up to cup Kirana’s face. Slowly- as if leaving room for her to pull away- he gave her a chaste kiss. As he pulled away, he noticed her face was bright red, eyes wide with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

Kirana felt her heart melt the minute her lips met his. Her flustered state only increased, making her stomach feel nearly overwhelmed with butterflies. 

“You’re more than welcome to join me.” Satan cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of Kirana’s face. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

The pair walked hand-in-hand up to Satan’s bedroom. He was slightly embarrassed by the state of it, knowing he would have at least taken the pile of books off of his bed if he knew Kirana would be accompanying him tonight. Instead he threw them off the bed in a huff, gesturing to Kirana to lay down while he grab some more tea for the two of them. 

Something about being surrounded by the smell of old books and dim candle light, and being snuggled up under a large, soft quilt suddenly made Kirana feel a bit more drowsy. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, only to be woken soon after by the door to Satan’s bedroom opening and closing. Satan approached the bed as she squinted at him through tired, heavy eyelids. 

He let out a soft chuckle at the way Kirana looked, bundled in the quilt so snuggly. “Here you are. Are you comfortable?”

She nodded sleepily in response, taking another sip of the tea that Satan had handed to her. “Yes, I do. I feel very safe. Thank you.” 

Satan hummed. “I’ll always keep you safe, Kitten.” 

Kirana choked on her tea, coughing and sputtering from the shock at being called the sudden (adorable) pet name. Her face reddened once more as she tried to find words to reply. “Wha- I...Kitten!?” 

Satan’s lips lifted into a coy smirk. “Do you not like me calling you that?” 

“N-NO!” Kirana shook her head, changing her words to seem less excited. “I mean...I- I don’t mind it.”

The smirk on Satan’s face only grew the more flustered she became. How cute. 

Satan cleared a space next to the bed, giving Kirana the entire space. He assumed she wouldn’t want him right next to her- or at least she’d be too embarrassed to say that’s what she did want. Regardless, he figured he’d spare her from feeling even more flustered...at least for tonight. 

Just before he was about to curl up in the space though, Kirana’s voice stopped him. “S-Satan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Could you...ah- could you read to me?” 

Satan’s eyes shifted up to look at her. Kirana’s ability to surprise him really left him feeling underprepared. 

“I know it’s silly...but...” She paused, trying to find the words to say. After a short moment, she let out a nervous laugh, feeling ridiculous for making such a request. “It’s just hard to sleep without background noise...and-” 

“Of course I will.” Satan interrupted, not wanting Kirana to go into a self-deprecating spiral. “Just let me find a book.” 

Satan disappears behind a bookshelf, re-emerging with a thin novel. Kirana scooches over to make room on the bed- much to Satan’s surprise- and he nestles in next to her. She rests her head on his chest as he wraps his arm around her, stroking her bare shoulder underneath the sleeve of her shirt. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” 

Kirana nods, humming in confirmation. She nuzzles into him further, tightening the blanket around her body as he begins to read. Within a few minutes, soft snores could be heard coming from Kirana as she breathed evenly against him. Satan continued to read until he could barely keep his own eyes open. He closes the book, leaving it on the windowsill near his bed before shuffling his and Kirana’s bodies to a lying-position on the bed. As if instinctually, Kirana wraps her arms around his midsection, clinging to him like a koala. He smiles warmly, placing a soft kiss to her head before finally succumbing to sleep. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

From then on, there wasn’t a night she wasn’t found in Satan’s room, or he in Kirana’s room. The two became nearly inseparable, relying on each other as Kirana continued to try to heal from the trauma of the kidnapping. With each reassured moment that she was safe in Satan’s arms, she became more and more like her old self again. The nightmares dwindled to a very infrequent occurrence, the anxiety lessened, and her appetite returned, allowing her to begin re-engaging with everyone around her in a meaningful way. 

Satan was almost shocked at how easy it was for Kirana to make friends with other demons after he took steps in aiding her healing. Though, he did notice she only really engaged with them when he was at her side. There was a carefulness still evident in her actions, and he wondered any sort of absence of his hawk-like protection wasn’t contributing to that at least somewhat. Regardless, he saw it better to remain cautious about the others outside his family rather than leave it up to fate. 

No one was taking her from him again...not without a fight. 

When Lucifer mentioned that the exchange program was ending and Kirana had to return to the human world...of course, he was devastated. 

“I demand you talk to Diavolo and let her stay.” “At the very least, can’t I accompany her back?” “Only two of us can call her per week?! That’s completely unfair!” 

All of his arguments fell on deaf ears, and soon enough, it was time to say goodbye. It was awkward- and sad- to have to give Kirana back to to the realm in which she belonged, but he was able to do so (though not without an extreme reluctance). The first two weeks were obviously the hardest for both Satan and Kirana. Despite texting her daily, he couldn’t wait for his turn to call her at the end of the second week- an arrangement he was able to work through with Lucifer after many harsh words flown from each other’s mouths at who would be the brother to call her first. 

“Heyy Satan.” Kirana giggled into the phone as she picked up the line, seeing the caller ID light up with a picture of him covered in 5 different cats, smiling wide right at her.

He smiled, feeling his heart race at the excitement in her voice. “Hey yourself. How are you doing, Kitten?” 

Satan heard Kirana squeak from the other line, and chuckled to himself at how she still became flustered by the pet name, even after they had been together for a few months. After regaining her composure some, she spoke. 

“I’m doing okay, I think. The first few days were really hard.” She pauses. “I’m getting some more help here. I started talking to some professionals...anyway, even though it sucks a bit that I don’t have you here to help, I’m learning how to do some things on my own so I don’t burden you too much.” 

“You’re not a burden to me, Kitten.” 

Another squeak was heard through the line. “Stop teasing me!” 

Satan laughed. “Stop being so easy to tease.” 

The pair laughed for a moment, before a somber wave of silence encapsulated the phone call. Satan’s heart felt heavy in knowing the next time he would be able to hear Kirana’s sweet voice was not until at least 3 weeks from now. He knew she felt it too, given the soft sniffles coming from her end of the line. 

Satan cleared his throat, trying to find a way to guide the conversation back to a happier place. He couldn’t really think of anything, but the sound of Kirana’s soft voice made him relax some. 

"I...I miss you, you know.” 

Satan could practically hear her blush through the phone. His own cheeks reddened as he cooed the sentiment back. “I miss you too. More than you probably even realize...” 

"You can’t just one up me like that!” Kirana huffed. “No, I miss you more.” 

Satan chuckled. “Well, I’m not about to argue with you on that. Let’s just say we’re both hopelessly missing each other.” 

After another brief laugh, The conversation goes on for hours, until the moon lifts brightly in the sky and the spring peeper frogs and crickets sing their evening melody, lulling Kirana into a state of sleepiness that she finally was able to not feel dread about...but that also meant she would have to stop the conversation in order to rest her weary head. 

“I should probably go...I have a busy day tomorrow.” 

Satan groaned. “I was worried you were about to say that.”

“I’m sorry...” She sighed, feeling bad about having to hang up. 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Satan stretched out, now realizing how long he had been in the same position, but time seemed to go so quickly when he it was with her. “You need your rest.” 

“I wish I could just be back there with you instead.” 

Satan hummed. “Me too, Kitten.”

“Hey!” Kirana squeaked into the phone. “What did I say about teasing!” 

Satan chuckled. “You’re adorable.” 

She huffed into the phone, clearly exaggerating to try to tease him back. 

“and...you’re all mine, right?” Satan bit his lip, wondering how his words will be received.

 She giggled, but he could also hear sniffling from her end of the call. “Yes, of course, you meanie. All yours.” 

The phone call ended with exchanged “I love you”s and, while the passage of time seemed unbearable, they continued on the distanced love that was cultivated despite enormous hardship. That is, until the day the portal opened above the student council meeting by Solomon- when Kirana fell right back into Satan’s lap- and they could pick back up exactly where they left off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#obey me commission #commission #Obey Me! #Obey me swd #shall we date: Obey me #obey me fic #obm fic #obm #obey me satan #obm satan #f!mc #f!reader #obey me f!reader #obm f!reader #obm f!mc #obey me f!mc #obey me satan x f!reader #obey me satan x f!mc #obey me mc #obm mc #obm satan x f!reader #obm satan x f!mc

[kimblewrites]

oc/writing asks for reblog courtesy! whichever WIP you've worked on most recently

The Scream, American Gothic, Guernica, Creation of Adam, and The Last Supper

Thanks for the ask my dude :) answering for The Ego Hypothesis: The Scream: are there any moments in this work that you think could scare a reader? Are there any moments where the characters themselves are profoundly scared?

-> Any scene that involves Ego overheating is what comes to mind for the most overtly scary scenes for the reader and the characters off the top of my head. However, Ego's first time being in a driving car absolutely terrified it.

American Gothic: what's one relationship between characters in this work that you think people wouldn't expect? (i.e., how the people in American Gothic are not married, they're the painter's sister and dentist)

-> Jin and Rinnah have a patient-neurologist relationship. Rinnah also dated Isaac's sister pre-story. I think the character relationships in this story are relatively straight forward and semi-predictable, but I think I've just spiced some up.

Guernica: look through a few of your imagery/descriptions in this work. Are they generally straightforward, or are they more "abstract"?

-> While I try to make certain things straightforward instead of needlessly wordy, I absolutely love abstract and vivid imagery. Going to go ahead and post a quote here that I'm proud of:

The first time he’d seen a corpse was when the old beggar man on the side of the road due west of his childhood home fell over dead in the night. He had remained there at the cross streets all morning, as those who saw his body had looked away and gone on to wherever they needed to be instead. The summer heat had facilitated a rancid, rotting stench, and there had even been some concern from his mother about whether or not he had contaminated the water before the insects and cleanup crews got to him. Jin tried to picture [XXX] like that- bloated and discolored, rigid and soft in all the worst places. The scientist only succeeded in making himself ill.

Creation of Adam: choose one character that is not present at the beginning of this work. How did you introduce them into the story?

-> Most of the characters in this story are introduced fairly early on, but Andrew doesn't come in until towards the end of Chapter 2. He sort of just,, stumbles in on Jin being insane (he proceeds to ask this poor computer science student to do brain surgery on him at like 3 in the morning). Hashtag just intern things.

The Last Supper: does this fic incorporate any symbolism based on religion, theology, or mythology? If so, give an example.

-> ohoho YES, absolutely. The work is very inspired by the concept of "God became Man so that Man might become God". There is also a scene where a theology professor and an integrated intelligence basically have pillow talk about religion. You know that Creation of Adam-inspired picture with the robot hand reaching out to the human one? That's the spotify playlist cover for this work. Can you tell I love theology and religious themes?

Thanks so much for the ask! Keep 'em coming, guys :)

#writing #wip #wip excerpt #writing asks #science fiction #writer #sci fi

[lesren]

Neon Absurdity

“…that I can’t find its meaning?” I mused out.

“Da, that is the point.” He responded simply.

I don’t recall the last time I took this headset off; it was hot I was sure of it; my skin was slick and the air thick. A rancid stench attacked my nostrils, but if I focused solely on only what my eyes and ears told me, I would get lost and the real world would fade away, out of mind. I was tired, I know I’ve been up a long time. My body ached and every breath felt like I was drowning. It was quiet for a while, and I looked around, confusion overtook me, and a haze set in as I stood up. We were suddenly loaded into a phone booth.

“What’s your name again?” I said, looking at them.

“You know my name…” He paused before realizing my confusion. “Just my username is fine."

It took me a moment to move my eyes up and read his username "Смерть.” I wasn’t sure how to pronounce it, especially given my friend's Slavic accent.

“Should I just call you C?"

“Whatever is good." he simply replied.

“I feel like I’ve heard your name before, have we met?”

“Yes…and no.” He simply replied.

After greeting him I looked around this familiar place. The place you load into is a phone booth, and once you exit it you find yourself in a concrete courtyard between four buildings. I start to walk to the only open door, covered with dead TV static, simply labeled "№ 1".

We walked through, to be greeted by large windows to our right, showing the static of a dead TV screen. In front of us was a mirror, showing our avatars. To our left were stairs to go up and explore this world. Above the mirror № 1 showed four symbols * * * *, and a picture of a maze. My mind took a few minutes to understand that I was not in my real body. I looked much younger, though I do not recall what I really looked like. A pale pudgy child with dark hair and too thick glasses. This, I was sure of it, wasn’t my real body. This was just in fact, a bunch of ones and zeros. Though it felt real, it at least fooled my sight and hearing, which was enough that I stopped focusing on it. C had a simple avatar, a pale slim man with black hair and clothes, dark bags sagged under his eyes. He appeared as if he’d never slept. As we made our way up the stairs, we were greeted by a hallway with many apartment doors. Almost everything on the walls was written in Cyrillic, a language I was unfamiliar with.

“Did you grow up in a place like this? I mean, like in brutalist-style apartments.”

“Maybe, other than the strangeness of this world. It gives off a…I’m not sure the English word for the feeling.”

“Nostalgia?" I asked.

“Da.” He replied, nodding his head. “Did you grow up here?”

“I’m not sure…it feels nostalgic, I’ve been here in the real world, but I don’t recall when or why.”

I couldn’t find a solid memory that placed me here, but I walked the yellowed musty hallways and made my way around. I must’ve unconsciously known where to go, we entered this room I call the mailroom. It's six stories tall and has nothing but overfilling mailboxes. From the overstuffed mailboxes low-poly mail drifts down like snow. Seven chairs sit in the middle of the room, surrounding an eighth knocked-over chair, which no matter how much I try to move it, my hand passes through it, unable to fix it.

“Why fix it?” C said

“Because…" I struggled to think of a why. "I want them to all be upright." I settled on.

"There doesn’t always have to be order." C retorted.  I stood up from my hunched position trying to move the chair, my eyes strained and I closed them for a moment, moving my hand to my temple, trying to think through the haze.

"Just makes more sense to have order."

C would just reply with a dissatisfied hmph. He started to walk to the next area, I lagged behind him, upset at the question. Though I wasn’t sure why. We walked for a long time, taking in the world around us. It's interesting to walk through this world, unlike the real world, the impossible can become possible. The yellowed hallways go on forever, mind-bending twists and turns, and a subway train goes up the wall where an elevator is supposed to be. A sight that repeats itself. 

I’m sure it means something, this whole world has too. But I’ve yet to understand it and possibly I never will, and it pains me. C I think notices this as we enter the second area, he speaks up without turning around.

"I’ll never understand why people get upset by those thoughts."

"What thoughts?" I retorted

"Trying to know the meaning of the world. You know you’ll never be able to know it." He said plainly.

"Weren’t you the one that said everything has meaning?"

"Yes, but your efforts would be better spent reconciling the fact that your world is absurd." He replied.

I didn’t understand. I don’t know if I can with this haze. I just accepted his answer for now and kept walking. The area we had just arrived at had a new mirror, I’m older now, but still young. A full curly beard covers my face, and long black hair runs around me. I still wear thick glasses and have some fat around me. Just above the mirror №. 2 displayed, and now the numbers displayed 2 0 2 4, this time through a small heart is displayed next to the numbers.

"Wonder what that’s supposed to mean."

"Life…love, things your kind finds meaning in." C responded.

"Do you not believe in that meaning?"

My question was spoken to deaf ears, he showed no emotion to the question, and he started off walking ahead.

This area was a broken bridge, connecting two halves of a city. A river infinitely far below us cut the city in half, and tall buildings that made the Tower of Babylon seem small were crammed together on both sides. It was raining, but it couldn’t cool my real body, though the sensation still ran over my skin. Rail tracks went over this bridge, and we walked along them, dodging holes in the ground that would have us dropdown. This area had an ambient soundtrack, something all too familiar and foreign.

"Why do you think this world is made the way it is?" I queried.

"You should know."

"How? I barely recall how we got here. Besides, I’d remember creating a beautiful world."

C only shifted and looked at me with a puzzling look and smirked, shaking his head. It left me feeling anxious. His look told me he knew something I didn’t.

Ahead of us, an escalator takes us up into an old office building. Once inside there is a singular desk, and behind it a stairwell. We make our way up, and it takes a while, to the point that I lose track of everything. We eventually made it to where the stairs end. We walked down a hallway till we hit a room with large windows, looking out to a large room. On all sides of this room are other buildings, other than the opposite of us, which is a glowing static screen. It's somehow raining out there.

"So, you don’t think this has some sort of meaning?" I asked as we looked out the windows.

"Maybe…but that’s not for you to know." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly disgruntled, I wasn’t getting whatever he meant.

"Why not?" I said bluntly looking down at him

"Because it is humanly impossible."

"How so? How can it be?"

"If it wasn’t humanly impossible, I’d tell you…I liked you more when you were smaller and accepted my answers." He went on to speak in some Slavic language, I assume mocking my inability to grasp what he meant.

I went back to looking out the window, the reflection of my false body I’m now acutely aware of. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh. I don’t know why I found it funny. But it was. C just looked at me, his sour face sweetened a bit. Maybe I was starting to get it, maybe I was just going insane. We kept walking and I was trying to keep track of the world in my head. Through the turns of the hallways, we should’ve been intersecting ourselves, going back to rooms and hallways we’ve been through. The power of this world is that it doesn’t have to abide by normal rules I suppose. We got to a room with many intricate pipes going to an abstract sculpture. A rhythmic hum played on, and an open elevator greeted us, which we entered. We stood a little close for comfort and I was happy my rancid smell couldn’t fill this space. The elevator took us to the next area, a library.

We exited onto the first floor, we were greeted by a №. 3 and 2 0 4 5. Here an image was next to the numbers, it appeared to be a brain. There wasn’t a mirror here, but I felt older. My hand gently stroked my greying beard, and my glasses felt heavy. There were bookshelves everywhere, slightly taller than me and we walked amongst them. It's one of the few times I’ve been upset at the limitations of technology, I’ve always loved the smell of musty books and the feel of old books.

I got lost for a long time, looking at titles I couldn’t read, and browsing at my own leisure. However, my attention to the books was broken as I looked around. I couldn’t find C anywhere. Though I knew where he’d likely be. Towards where we’d entered there, I’d find the stairs going to the second floor. They were grandiose and wide. My footsteps echoed in the stairwell, bouncing off the granite floor and walls. When I got to the second floor, it was a gallery. It was a maze to walk through, but all images were interesting to look at. Though the art was different than last time, at least I think it was. It was all blurry, out of place, or nonsensical in nature. Some of them depicted brutalist architecture, the insides of buildings. They felt familiar, I couldn’t help but feel I had taken these photos, or painted them, or had I? Something was rising in my chest, fear. I started to run through the maze until I bumped into C.

"Fuck man, watch where you’re going. You could knock someone over." He said

"Hah…yeah," I said, catching my breath. "Wait…ha-ha, you’re funny." I said sarcastically.

C just stared at me weirdly for a few moments, trying to analyze me before he spoke "Yeah…why were you running?"

"I was just running to try and find you man…" My sentence trailed off towards oblivion as we stared at each other.

"You’re scared of it…aren’t you? The truth of it all." 

"No…just… drop it, man." I said

A long silent moment followed while I caught my breath, my lungs ached and filled up with less air than before.

"I’m not scared of the truth…but over the fact that I don’t understand it."

"You will, in due time. We’re close to the end, do you feel it?"  I couldn’t help but nod, a looming fear started to overtake me. Though the haze I’d felt started to diminish.

"Why does it all feel familiar? Are those my photos? I thought this was VR or something." C smirked "You’re starting to see. This world is your construct."

Before he could talk or try to continue this conversation I started off towards a nearby staircase, racing up for a while, and started to struggle. I was scared, I wanted to run from him. I felt as though I had been running upstairs, my lungs felt full of fire. Soon I got to a door which had a sign above it that was green with a little stick figure running to a door. 

Once I passed this sign it all felt familiar, it all felt real. It looked like the reception to a hospital, though squeezed into a hallway. Above the reception, №. 4 is displayed with a cross the four numbers now 2 0 6 7. The walls were painted pale green, and though I know I couldn’t have possibly smelt the smell, it smelt of cleaning solutions. There were cardboard boxes in this hallway, paperwork and such spilling out of it.

I walked forward some before turning back, his footsteps echoed up and down the hallway. The end of the hallway where I entered had transformed and now was a window overlooking the river and buildings. I backed away in terror, but then stumbled into a shoddy hospital bed. My breath was shallow, and my lungs ached for air. I was too tired to fight my way out of this deathbed.

"Want me to push you from here?" C asked as he approached.

"Why am I filled with dread? Why am I scared of what's to come? Why do I fear you?"

"You fear what you do not know." His accent changed, and I could understand him better now.

"I’m not in VR, am I?"

"You constructed this world, to try and understand, to try and find meaning."

"Will I?" 

C just chuckled lightly, "You are human, so it is hopeless." For a long time, we stayed there, while I contemplated what was next.

"Please…I want to see the rest of what I’ve made." I said softly, my voice starting to crack.

C would move to the head of the bed, behind my vision, and begin to push, the bed rattling as we went along. The world here felt unfinished, random almost. A bench curved along the wall, impossible for someone to sit on. A massive hole in the wall shows the guts of the building. Chairs, wheelchairs, and beds were strewn around. Posters on the walls I couldn’t decipher. On and on we went, through corridors until we pushed past a tight door into a new room. A pool was in the middle of the room, beyond it were two tables of sorts.

"What are those?" I weakly asked.

"Autopsy Tables." He replied bluntly 

"That will be my next bed?" I asked.

"Da." He said in a cold voice.

"Why show me this?" I simply responded, which was met with silence.

C would pull me back and we went into the corridor, moving along. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling he wanted me to see its meaning. But why? If he’s trying to show me my mortality, why does he act like it matters? Besides, he said I couldn’t possibly know the meaning anyways. It all felt absurd, like some cruel joke. 

In my thoughts, I missed a lot, only breaking out of it when a cold wind snapped me back. We were looking at a sphere, above and below were infinitely tall pyramids, their tips pointing to a sphere with a quarter missing. Swirling arms like that of a galaxy spread out as far as I could see, orbiting the sphere. The path was narrow, and it led to the sphere, beyond, darkness swallowed everything. I was able to get out of the bed with C’s help and we walked down the path. Once before the sphere I could hear the slow rhythmic beeping of a machine, it sounded like a heart monitor. Tears welled up and my vision blurred.

I walked over, we stood where the quarter of the sphere was missing. A small bed and heart monitor were all that this area held. C would let go and let me wander over to look down upon myself. I looked old, and frail, but a smile erupted across both my faces.

"So why did my mind make this world?" I asked, falling against my bed, looking at myself.

"To try and make sense of it all. To find meaning." He spoke.

"So, what happens next?" I said looking at him.

C would not respond, only to walk over and put his hand on my shoulder in a last act of comfort.

My lungs struggled before I felt them fail. The monitor started to make an ugly sound play and the world started to collapse around us.

"There is a purpose to life." He said, looking at me.

"Isn’t it absurd then…"

#neon #absurd #absurdity #writeblr #my writing #short story #VR #First Short story #first story

[wolf-grimoire]

the potion is always putting down roots. starts like tiger lilies, darts featherlight. onyx or aureate. it's the sacred liquor, where it pools on the sand or stone is changed forever. a lichtenberg religion deep into the memories, deeper still into the future. every drink hereafter will be the gnostic little closet of your keeping. yours and yours alone.

but good drink descends. the base, the body. intoxication that brings one down into the secret ecology of carpets, stains, and of lost objects now granted new terrible significance.

hours too will change. all the hard edges you avoid on their incessant treadmill of glass landscapes. but the relentless onslaught of everyone else's hours will soften in the ardent morning light at last. it's all met its match now.

descends to the fragments of broken scaffolding on the basement floor. whose basement? you find new and manifold things way down here, troubling things. fresh resentments, the stinging or rancid envy of those moments you fear you have stolen from yourself. black outs are no longer black outs but unknowable and violent creatures with a brutality so ornate and meaningless you admire it at times, stare up at the sibylline annihilation and aftermath like it was their codex.

everything written past a certain point is blasphemy.

the absurd places, absurdist ways in which the body will lose all control of its soft parts: pissed bedsheets, schizophrenic implorings to businesses you must now forget, then cops and broken still frames of cops, and the growing pains horrify you most because what in christ's name could you possibly be more of without dying of shame forever over again and thus being dissolved into pure undifferentiated agony? where are the real memories of mothers and sleep and wordless terror before the mother entity's unpredictable rages or those laggardly durations spent in a peculiar twilight consciousness holding a pale to a gibbering poisonous mouth or checking for breathing intermittently and listening to the mouth say soft nonsense things that floated away in the grayness.

no way to know anymore. if your sourceless twilight hallways were honest representations then. Nothing is to be trusted now until that pinnacle of intoxication when the elixir pulls you from the limen where only true insanity and your stillborn selves can go, pulls you for a diamondlike moment into your ecstasy of derangement.

no shame can touch you here. the religion leads only to this, your nirvana, your sacrament and antimatter island in all their judging black seas of time and space. here the lies have built themselves cathedrals and true things, faraway, they fall out at last like bloody shards of teeth.

it's fleeting. sublime embrace with an abyss, but soon any abyss does the trick. You have a suspicion that the ground was solid when you were a child, when you were just becoming someone in the world on your own. but when you remember it you begin to sob and you cannot stop. if its real, you think, I will go crazy because I too am that kid, I am that kid and the dreams they loved to dream into a future are an agony now, a pain truly unbearable for one sober moment. Any abyss will do. the drink always descends

#writeblr #witchblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #fiction #addiction #trauma #writing community #alcohlism #horror #dark fiction #renaissance underground #reading community #authors of tumblr #artists on tumblr