#EXPOSED TISSUE TW
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TIS FNAF 3S B-DAY AND I WAS ALREADY HAVING ALICE SPRINGTRAP THOUGHTS SO I THOUGHT ID FINALLY DRAW HER FOR THE PNF FNAF AU. BC INSANE AND CRINGE AS THIS IS TO SAY ABOUT A PNF BASICALLY OC SHE IS DEEPLY WILLIAM AFTON
ALSO STACYS JAW IS SUPPOSED TO BE UNNATURALLY VISIBLE
AND ALSO I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY THAT THATS THE FIRST INTERACTION VANESSA AND CANDACE HAVE IN THE AU PERIOD
#UHHHHHHH THERES A LOT TO TAG FOR HOLD ON#BLOOD TW#GORE TW#SKULL TW#EYE CONTACT TW#BURNING TW#DEATH TW#I MEAN OBVIOUSLY NOT BUT ALSO LIKE. ITS FNAF LOL#ANIMATRONIC TW#DECAY TW#EXPOSED TISSUE TW#BODY HORROR TW#HORROR TW#I THINK THAT SHOULD COVER IT BUT STILL ATT#CANDY-ART#PHINEAS AND FERB#PNF#FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S#FNAF#FNAF 3#SPRINGTRAP#WITHERED BONNIE#MANGLE#ALICE LUOJA#STACY HIRANO#CANDACE FLYNN#VANESSA DOOFENSHMIRTZ#GRETCHEN#BALJEET TJINDER#DREADBEAR
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Hold Me
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
PART 2
Reader has the power to teleport
Summary: Bucky confesses his feelings while stranded on a beach.
TW: Mild angst, fluff, comfort, confessions of love, self-deprecating thoughts, bad joke.
A/N: For those who wanted a part 2, hope you enjoy.
@vicmc624 @loki-laufeyson68 @eat-limes-bitches @classyunknownlover
Y/N woke up, blinking up at the dark sky above. She watched the palm fronds rustling in the breeze, listening to the soft sound of the waves gliding against the sand.
She should be dead.
Y/N shifted with a grimace, her muscles ached and her throat was raw.
She shifted herself up onto her elbows with a whimper, fingers finding the bottom of her shirt and dragging the stained material upwards to expose her stomach.
The gunshot had healed crudely into a patch of red, twisted, painful-looking scar tissue. Y/N let the material fall back into place, digging her elbows into the sand underneath her as she pushed herself up into a seated position with a wince.
She looked around, eyes finally meeting with the icy blue ones that had been silently observing her from a few feet away.
"What happened?" She asked softly.
"I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let you die," Bucky stated, looking down at his hands.
"What did you do, Bucky?" Y/N questioned.
Bucky tucked a hand into his pocket before pulling out the empty syringe of serum, "I'm sorry," He said, holding it out to her.
She took the vial from his hand, examining it carefully before looking up at him again, "Where did this even come from?" Y/N asked.
"I saw it in the sand, must have gotten swept up when you teleported us," Bucky said.
"You saved my life," She stated.
"I'm also the reason you got shot in the first place," Bucky muttered, gaze focused on the sand between them.
He looked up as Y/N shifted, using the trunk of the palm tree to steady herself as she stood.
"You really shouldn't be moving around right now," Bucky stated, standing up and moving towards her, "Sit back down before you hurt yourself," He advised.
Bucky stiffened as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his chest, "Thank you," She said.
Bucky gulped, tears gathering in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.
He had almost lost her today.
Bucky had held her in arms as her blood soaked into his clothing, listening helplessly as her heartbeat slowed.
There was a point when he thought the serum wouldn't take hold, but Bucky was endlessly thankful that it had.
He couldn't imagine his life without her, regardless of how much of an annoyance she could be sometimes.
She was alive. She was safe. And he loved her.
"Thank you, Bucky," She repeated.
....
The pair had decided that Y/N would try to teleport them back to Latvia in the morning.
She needed to rest and heal before attempting to use her powers again, especially after being given the serum.
Bucky had built them a fire on the beach to keep warm through the night. He watched Y/N through the flames, she sat quietly with her knees pulled to her chest.
"How do you feel?" Bucky asked.
She shrugged, "Not really any different. My body is a little sore though, my throat too," Y/N said.
"You were screaming," Bucky said, stabbing a stick into the sand in front of himself.
"I was?" Y/N questioned.
"Yeah, and thrashing around. I held you down so you wouldn't hurt yourself," He said, avoiding her gaze.
Bucky felt guilty, he had given her the serum without her consent and forced her to go through the worst pain that he had ever endured.
Bucky knew how awful it could be to have your ability to choose taken away. Despite her reassurance, his guilt still sat heavily in his stomach like a rock.
"I don't remember anything," Y/N said.
"That's a good thing, trust me," Bucky assured, breaking the stick in half and tossing it into the fire.
"Can I ask you something?" She asked softly, Bucky nodded.
"I know that you don't like me very much. So, why did you save me? Why did you stay?" Y/N asked.
Bucky scoffed, shaking his head, "What? Am I missing something?" She questioned.
"Yeah, you are," Bucky stated.
"Care to enlighten me, then?" Y/N asked.
"I saved your life because I'm in love with you," Bucky said quickly, eyes finding her's across the flickering flame.
"But I thought-" "Yeah, well, you thought wrong," Bucky snapped, eyes dropping to the embers in the bottom of the makeshift firepit.
A tense silence settled over them, punctuated by the soft crackle of firewood. Bucky kept his eyes fixated on the ground, he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Her rejection would destroy him, but he deserved it.
"You love me?" Y/N asked softly.
Bucky huffed, bright blue eyes reluctantly meeting with her's, "Yeah," He admitted.
Bucky watched her as she stood, making her way around the fire and sitting down directly beside him.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
Y/N grabbed his wrist, lifting his arm over her head and allowing it to settle around her waist as she leaned into his side.
"I'm in love with you too. Despite your bad attitude and hatred for my obviously hilarious jokes" She said.
A weight felt like it had been lifted off his shoulders.
She loved him back. She was alive and she loved him.
Bucky smiled slightly, "Your jokes are awful," He said.
"No, they're not," Y/N stated.
"They are," He argued.
"No, listen to this one, I've been saving it just for you... What do you call an alligator detective?" She asked.
Bucky shook his head with a smile, "I have no idea," He said.
"An investi-gator. Get it? Because the-"
Bucky cupped her cheek, pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips moving tentatively against his.
Bucky pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against her's.
"Tell me another one," He said softly.
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x you#falcon and the winter soldier#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes
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Meanwhile with aspen...
TW: gory, gonna get worse in RBs, proceed with caution
Aspen is standing in the corridor of Mictlan’s palace, outside his door. Not many things scare the demon, but the prospect of knocking on the dark stone door has them trembling. It’s been years, so many that Aspen almost wants to forget the idea and leave. They knock before fear can root itself more. They need his help. Three knocks, three seconds apart each. They count the five seconds before the door swings open and he stands in front of them. He smiles, and it’s positively horrifying to Aspen. Really, he’s just baring his teeth, which doesn’t shock Aspen in the slightest. He had always been the viciously cruel type, which makes sense considering the civilizations he watched over.
“Umm..I know its been a while but I need help…and you’re you…”
“Come sit darling, I can see your troubles already but please tell me whats wrong.”
The words would have been sweet were it not for the tone they were spoken in, but Aspen knows him better than to take his words as anything but an underhanded threat either way. Nothing he says is ever truly meant to be kind. He will help Aspen, they know that much, it just wont be for their sake. They don’t bother trying to convince themself that maybe he does care about them. He doesn’t, he never has and he never will. However, he’s their best bet.
“Well…I mean you can see the issue right?”
“I can, did you burn up again?”
“I did…but this time someone tried to help me and he restored me physically but I was still burning and now…well…”
They gesture to their current state, which was…not the best. To put it lightly: their bones were still burning and so all of their muscle and soft tissue had simply detached. To put it less lightly: their normally healthy dark skin was greying and falling off in chunks. Along with their muscle, tissue, and even their nerves and tendons. They were essentially just bone.
“Of course I’ll help you. You’ve always been my favorite child after all. Say, could you help me with something afterwards?”
“…Yes. Just fix it. Please.”
“Not even asking what you’re agreeing to?”
“I have a pretty good guess.”
They sit in their designated spot on the sofa, letting him put a hand over their eyes. They feel the dizziness wash over them, and attempt to lay back. He puts a hand on their exposed spine to stop them from doing so, and within seconds they’re unconscious.
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Lecture
TW: References to medical fatphobia and health conditions.
Your eyes dart nervously back and forth, from one side of the lecture hall to another. Surely they’re not going to see you like this and just sit there? Surely someone is going to step in and help?
But your hopes are disappointed. You’re met, to the extent the audience looks you in the eyes at all, with blank or half-bored stares. The uncaring look of people who see you and the half-ton of lard filling your body as a technical exercise, and little more. The lecture drones on next to you, and after a few minutes, you’re finally able to focus on what’s being said.
“…recall that yesterday’s subject exhibited signs of severe morbid obesity with excessive deposits of adipose tissue almost exclusively at the anterior abdomen. Today’s subject, by contrast—” at this, you feel the lecturer’s gloved hand grasp one of your bulging love handles, squeeze a solid handful, and lift as he continues “—supplements this distribution with deposits throughout the inguinal, gluteal, and posterior thigh regions, and to a lesser extent, in the pectoral and inframammary regions.” You feel one of your tits being lifted as the lecturer holds it in the palm of their hand, pointing out further details with the other. “So as you see, adipose distribution can vary significantly, based on a number of factors…”
The audience continues listening and taking notes. Occasionally, you see two of its white-coated members whisper to each other, gesturing at some point or other on your expansive body. Your mind wanders from the lecture again, and you begin to look around the room, to the extent the restraints on your bariatric exam chair allow. Despite the audience’s lack of direct attention to you, you’re keenly aware of how exposed and on display you are.
The angle of the chair allows your wide, doughy belly to spill down your lap and between your knees. It spreads your lumpy, shapeless legs into a split that leaves the bulging sacs of fat on your thighs and calves in full view. Likewise, because of the backward tilt of the seat, your head is also tilted back, bringing your chin level with your triple chins and emphasizing them along with your wobbly cheeks and jowls. Restraints tie your arms against padded extensions on either side of the main chair, holding them in a T-pose that causes the flab on your forearms to hang down in puckered globs and the bulk on your upper arms to pool around your shoulders, further squeezing the fat around your face. It’s a position in which, if there were any doubt, you’re shown off as the thoroughly, completely, and probably irrevocably fattened blob you are.
Eventually, the display screens on either side of the hall catch your eye — specifically, the unfamiliar shape appearing next to some inscrutable pixelated numbers in black and white. Then, suddenly, something in the lecture strikes you and the image clicks into stark comprehension.
“…86% body fat, with the result that additional strain on the musculoskeletal structure produces the characteristic bend in the vertebral column to compensate…”
The ill-defined shape on the screen, viewed through the lens of an MRI machine, is a person — is you. You knew you were huge, of course, but your breath catches in your throat to see your gluttony presented in this way — the cross-section showing the muscles and organs and skeleton of a normal person, but floating, buried, smothered in a sea of white-yellow tissue, spreading out shapeless in all directions. Hundreds of pounds of fat, dominating your body, captured with the indisputable precision of medical imaging. You are an anomaly. A curiosity. A pathology. A disease, needing to be treated.
You barely have time to process all of this before you feel two attendants beginning to undo the restraints holding back your arms and legs. You feel your feet spring forward slightly, no longer held down and now pushed out by the bulk of the fat hanging off your calves and thighs. Your arms fall immediately to your sides — or, at least, as close to your sides as the tremendous piles of rolls fighting your bingo wings and forearm flab for space will allow. You slide down from the tilted half-chair/half-gurney to a standing position, and feel a hot ache radiate through you, your body crying out at your full weight being put on your frame for the first time in a long time.
“We’ll see if we can get a demonstration of mobility. Clearly, physical activity isn’t this subject’s strong suit.” A stifled but derisive laugh ripples through the audience at this first flush of color commentary from the lecturer. You turn to look at the lecturer, standing at the lectern, and they gesture to the far side of the hall. A set of double doors, wide enough for you to go through, with a bright “Exit” sign above them, stand about thirty yards away.
Is this it? Are you free to go? After being fattened and poked and prodded for so long, are they finally going to let you just walk out?
You have to try. Slowly, deliberately, and with a shock of pain at every step, you lift your blubber-laden legs one at a time, putting your bare foot down with a wet-sounding plop, as you work your way closer to the door. You look around from the door to the audience to the attendants, eyes widened almost to the point of panic. You see all the audience now paying close attention to you, many of them looking back with genuine surprise, apparently somewhat impressed to see a person as fat as a small cow able to walk at all. But seeing nobody move to stop you as you continue your degrading waddle forward, you try to pick up the pace. Your flabby arms swing in a wide circle, trying to counterbalance the movement of the vast bulk hanging off your midsection, the belly and tits and side rolls wobbling chaotically with each step forward.
“As you can see, mobility is diminished as a result not just of the added weight, but also the severe limitations on range of motion caused by the excess adipose tissue.”
Barely halfway toward the door, you can hear the sound of your heart beating over the drone of the lecture, pounding as if it’s about to burst out of your chest. Sweat dims your eyes, and the heat radiating from your body — but, it feels like, especially from your florid face — makes you realize how fatigued you already are from walking just this limited distance. Walking this distance — but with an extra eight hundred pounds or so more than you’re used to, you think to yourself.
“Note, too, the compounding effect of the excessive weight and the lack of resiliency in the subject’s cardiovascular and respiratory systems due to a prolonged deficit in physical activity. Blood pressure and body temperature rise precipitously, stamina diminishes, breathing becomes labored, blood oxygen plummets. Hence, the elevated risk of cerebrovascular accident, embolism, myocardial infarction…”
You barely have the energy to feel angry at the lecturer’s patronizing indifference by the time you reach the door. Breathing ragged, soaked with sweat, barely able to concentrate and on the verge of collapse, you stumble into a lean against the door frame, desperate to catch your breath so you can finish your escape. It’s right there — you can reach out and touch the push bar, hear what sounds like street noise outside — but your body won’t let you. Your clouded mind won’t focus, your bloated legs won’t lift, your wobbling arms hang limp by your heaving, flabby chest. Exhaustion and despair rise within you in equal measure as you hear the gurney chair being rolled across the room, feel your body being jiggled and manhandled back into a sitting position, and see the exit doors and all hope of help receding as you’re rolled back to center stage, defeated.
Numb and indifferent now, you offer no resistance, sensing the tube and mask being fitted into your mouth as if watching it happening to someone else from a distance. You utter little more than an involuntary groan of complaint or protest — it doesn’t concern you, any more than does the flow of something cold you can feel pooling in your stomach.
“…typical example has a maximum capacity of barely two to four liters. However, consistent overfeeding with a diet that includes a sufficient volume of fiber at appropriate intervals has demonstrated the ability to reliably expand stomach volume to a maximum capacity of 14-16 liters, with p of .05 in our internal studies…”
The sound of the lecture flows past you, mixing with the buzz of the pump filling you with more and more of the chilly slop, and the low creak of the gurney as it takes the added weight. Your eyelids droop, drowsy with the food and your exertions; and you drift away to sleep, the gaze of the audience trained on the slow, relentless expansion of your tumescent belly the last thing you see before your tired eyes close shut.
Credit to the incomparable Mairari/@hyenaddict for the original post that inspired this story
#feeder fiction#gainerfiction#gaining#ssbhm#weight gain fiction#wg fiction#extreme weight gain#wg story#gainer stories#weight gain story
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day 2, amon: masks
kinktobruary day 2
amon x reader // legend of korra
summary: amon is an enigmatic leader, but someone you would follow till the end of time. it doesn’t bother you that you’ll never see the man behind the mask. really.
tw/cw: 18+ only, minors dni, masks, under the table BJs, not really kinky till the end? more introspective/character study
word count: 1.8K
Amon never takes his mask off.
You’ve grown intimately aware of Amon in one kind of way, in the manners of flesh, in the way bodies can move and fit against each other in different configurations under the moonlight, but he remains as closed off as ever in every other aspect of his life. He remains a man of mystery.
Even now, as you work your hands over his throbbing length, he betrays little beneath the mask. If you weren’t attuned to the unique signs of his arousal—the way his breath catches ever so slightly when you curve your wrist, the narrowing of his dark gaze, the tendency for his fingers to twitch and grasp at something, as if he’s not used to being at someone’s mercy—you wouldn’t be able to tell he was enjoying this. But because you’ve grown used to staring up at those dark eyes and what little of himself he offers during these intimate moments, these are things you can count on. Things that make Amon somewhat less of a figure, and more of a human.
In contrast, you’re bare. He doesn’t ask you to bare yourself to him, but he does ask that you take your mask off. He says it’s so he doesn’t forget your face, but you know Amon. You know his keen eye to detail, his attention to body language. You’re sure that he could recognize you in a crowd.
You wonder if he just wants it to feel less impersonal to him. And maybe part of you hopes that, by letting him see you like this, bared open, he’ll also decide to bare some of himself to you.
Regardless of masks, there is another clear indicator of his arousal—the hard column of flesh in your grasp that throbs at your every expert movement.
He sighs raggedly, and you take it as a sign to lean down and pucker your lips around the head of his cock. There’s not much of a scent to Amon. He smells clean, like soap, with a hint of ruggedness, like pine. When you take him deeper into your mouth, his breath hitches ever so slightly, and he starts making short, quick thrusts into your mouth.
“Now,” he says, and you pull off, substituting your hand for your mouth. Amon is a kind man; when he finishes, he never makes you swallow his release. It dribbles into your fist, and you’re reaching for a tissue.
Then he’s getting up, buckling his pants. All business, no time for loitering. “...Good work,” he says, with the air of a man who is used to giving commands, but there’s a tinge of hesitance, a keen attention to his phrasing, as if he himself is not sure of where the boundaries he’s drawing are.
Nonetheless, as you nod, murmur a thank you to him as he slips out and stands guard so you can get dressed in peace, his hooded eyes imprinted into your thoughts. The image stays with you throughout the day.
—
Amon, you learn, is a man of restraint. Even when he’s hard underneath you, above you, inside of you, he rarely cracks his calm, measured demeanor. And even the cracks you do see are hairline tears in his persona.
The night you started this affair of yours, though, is an entirely different beast. It was a victory for the Equalists, after one of the rallies amassed over a thousand spectators. The movement was growing, your voices gaining more and more traction. Back at the base, there was fanfare, celebrations. You had one too many drinks of Narook’s special mix, and even Amon, amidst the celebrations, decided to indulge in one or two. He caught you in a corridor, and amidst his commendation of the way you’d taken down benders in your last raid, something shifted in the air. At some point, the two of you grinding against each other like teenagers, your mouth nipping at every bit of exposed flesh on his neck... Amon lifted his mask just enough to sloppily press his lips against your neck. You remember the warmth of his lips, like the rice wine warming both your bodies.
While Amon’s goal as leader of the Equalists is to give everyone a fair chance, to level the playing field, in the bedroom, he rarely extends that to you. Amon in the bedroom is a force to be reckoned with, all commands and heated looks, and rough caresses. He has you wrapped around his finger, and all he has to do is glance at you.
He took you on the simple couch in his office, the legs creaking menacingly with every one of his sharp, efficient thrusts. Efficient. That was how he liked to fuck, much like how he led. But throughout the night, it was a mesh of both efficiency and fervor. Fire and ice. Almost as if Amon himself was struggling with these own urges.
And in the end, when he was grunting out your name, his release drying cool on your thigh, he handed you his shirt to clean the mess. It was a small act, and he said nothing to accompany it, but the way he reclined next to you and your breaths moved in tandem said everything you needed to know.
—
He glances at you from the corner of his eye, just a glimpse, his hand hovering over your head. You always feel small under Amon’s grip, under the hands that could take away people’s bending, that are capable of taking on the Avatar herself, but this time even more so. The Lieutenant drones on and on about the next phase of the Equalists’ plan in this impromptu meeting: the takeover of City Hall. Your own hand is wrapped around Amon’s throbbing, stiff flesh under the table as he takes charge and lays out their line of attack.
While the two of you are usually not this risky, you had little time to prepare, since the Lieutenant and his men had burst into the room just as you lowered to the ground. Amon quickly scooted you deeper under the table, and to all extents and purposes, looked nearly unaffected, if it weren’t for the exaggerated stillness to his form.
A lick to the head of his cock has his fingers tangling in your hair, tightening in warning, his gaze discretely roving over to you. And then, when you slip the head between your lips, he leans forward slightly. The meeting drags on, Amon tightening his grip every so often when your sucking gets too exuberant. Papers are shuffled around, voices rise in argument, and then, as the door to his office open and the members of his task force slip out, he slips you onto his desk, his mouth hard and unyielding on yours. You feel the barest hint of stubble against your cheek, and you press harder against him, but then’s parted from you, his mask slipping back over his chin.
The way his hands maneuver your body to a position he likes is as fluid as water. Almost smoother than the way he slips off both your pants, his girth parting you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.
Something about trying to fuck in Amon’s office while the Lieutenant and his Equalists hover just outside has you feeling more on edge. Each of his thrusts feel like they split you to your very core, and you eventually have to bite down on his shoulder. He groans at the pain, his hips slapping rougher against yours.
“Hold on, I need to tell Amon something,” you hear, just outside his door. As the sound of footsteps draw closer, the both of you still. The air between you stills as well. Oddly enough, you can feel Amon’s muscles flexing, almost imperceptibly, balls deep as he is inside of you. The doorknob rattles, then there’s a pause. There’s the sound of choking, then a howl of pain from outside. Eventually their voice grows quieter, whether with distance or pain, you can’t tell. But it almost sounds as if they’re being dragged away against their will...
“What was—”
Amon silences you by hilting himself in you once more. Your breath catches, and he starts rolling his hips into you with a frenzy. He fucks you hard and fast, almost invigorated by the thrill of nearly getting caught. When he grasps your thighs, dragging you closer to him as he buries his length into you, you cry out. His next thrusts misses its mark, his dick sliding against your mound before his release splatters in ropes onto your stomach. You’re trembling, adrenaline rushing through your veins as his gloved fingers brush against your clit, rubbing furiously to stimulate your hypersensitive nerves until you also reach your end, your entrance clenching around nothing.
Amon pants into your shoulder, his breaths echoing against the hollow wood of his mask, and for one, measly moment, your fingers twitch with the yearning to take it off. You’ve often fantasized about what he looks like. To your knowledge, he’s never showed anyone outside of the Lieutenant. You could picture him—a strong jawline, piercing, intense eyes… but that urge dissipates as your fingers trail across his mask, towards the top of his mussed hair before smoothing it back.
He stiffens against your touch. There’s a pause as if he’s attempting to comprehend the domestic action. When he addresses you, the ice glazing his usual commands is gone, replaced by the lull of waves right before a typhoon approaches.
“We have a rally in ten.”
“...Of course.”
“I trust you’ll make it there alright?” He pulls away from you, his eyes searching you, looking for something Loyalty, perhaps? Your feelings?
You bare them all to him, as you have nothing left to lose.
“Yes, sir.”
As you’re putting your pants back on, feeling oddly dejected, for whatever reason, he stops you with a clearing of his throat.
“After… After the Equalists manage to bring down Republic City, perhaps we can… celebrate.” He hesitates. “In... other ways as well.”
You smile softly. “Yes, sir, I would like that.”
Amon may not be the most transparent leader, but you would follow him through the shipwreckage of the modern bending world. Perhaps he sees you as little more than an outlet, and you;re fine with that, really. You would take what little he offered you and make the most of it, as you had done with most or your circumstances.
And when it came down to it, maybe the man who was inside you was a man who didn’t even know himself, much less was someone for you to attempt to piece together. Still, in those moments where your bodies stayed connected past the cool of his ardor, and he seemed reluctant to leave… He never seemed more human than then.
#amon x reader#noatak x reader#legend of korra x reader#lok x reader#lok imagine#tati writes#not sfw
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Erm could u perhaps do a nsfw fic for havik x gn reader including sadomasochism, knife play, kinda bloody/gory n stuff like that please? Its fine if ur not comfortable with it.
- Let's Get Numb -
tw: blood, gore, violence, sadomasochism
They are alone. Alone with everyone. The decay, the rot , it clings to their skin and the air is rich with iron. Both of them so painted by each other, two masterpieces crafted by expert hands. The method of execution not one with soft strokes. Never would they lay a gentle path.
A paint brush becomes a blade, sharp and stinging. The liquid to color the canvass a rich cherry that pools and pools. What is this canvass? They are.
Nails coated in the tissues and blood mark their way down a back most exposed. Further and further they drag, parting the skin that binds their flesh. A groan, a cry, a scream the pain rocks through their body and their bones rattle.
It all such a delight all such a wonderous display. Havik purrs into laugh, stained eyes admiring his work but this merely the beginning. A licentious tongue wraps around his digits and the raw and untarnished taste of crimson has his eyes rolling.
That very same tongue swipes over exposed teeth before a hand grips a chin. He looks at them then and the crazed gaze he has is reflected back at him.
Hands are upon him now, slithering and searching. A distraction. Teeth are now upon the skin of shoulder and oh how they rip and tear. Blood pools in their mouth, a special treat, and teeth press into flesh deeper and deeper.
Havik seethes through his teeth, a breath sucked in while a face contorts wicked. His hand would push the back of their head wanting those teeth to tear again and again. And so they did while sharp nails scratch at his chest.
Hips roll and buck up into them, his cock sheathed in a veil of warmth. Atop his lap his muse sits, twisting and rolling hips that are covered in bruises. His gift to them and Havik had much more to give.
A bloodied tongue laps at his wound not to soothe but to taste and gather his crimson. Wet, it moves up the length of his aching neck. Up and up until a gore covered tongue begins to swipe over teeth exposed between a mangled cutis.
There is that purr again and he laughs low and grumbled as his partner smears his own blood across his face and mouth. They to not stop there, no not even close. Their tongue pries those jaws open and blood and saliva mingle and now Havik tastes iron.
His hands grip at their hips, and purple bruises are bleached white under his pressure before nails press and rip into them. The feeling of you tightening around his length does not go unnoticed and he scratches at your bruises continuously.
It is then he feels the sharp bite on his tongue, their teeth bursting that wet and fleshy muscle and the blood pours. Drip, drip, drop it runs down his chin, his chest and oh how it burns. He grabs their hair, forcing their neck to be that like a crane and still they smirk with lips coated in dripping blood
The reflection of light is caught on the curve of a blade as he fetches it. That neck of theirs exposed and vulnerable. The chill they receive as that knife's edge so lightly traces down the length of their craned neck has eyes fluttering.
Soon those eyes are wide and their lungs are burning. The tip of the blade cutting across the curve of their jaw. Eyes so manic watch as they yell in pain and Havik wants more more and more. The blade his brought from them and then to him and it begins to carve.
It cuts and shreds the skin of chest wide and deep and Havik laughs louder and louder. His own neck now craned back as he writhes in the joyous agony the two of them create. Lips upon his teeth, hands pulling his hair and yet again their tongues meet while he continues to fuck them raw. They will continue this path. They will carve each to pieces.
'Til they don't feel nothing.
#mortal kombat#mk1 2023#mortal kombat fanworks#mortal kombat headcanons#mk1#mortal kombat x reader#mk1 smut#mortal kombat smut#mk havik#havik#havik x reader#tw: violence#tw: bl00dplay#tw: knifeplay#tw: gore
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i know you got like 37393793749 requests already but HEAR ME OUT BABES.
genesis x reader where he's at banora making plans to revolve against shinra but his (other) childhood best friend still lives there. zack is coming too with tseng and they're planning to 'get rid of the evidence' right??? what would genesis do once he finds his other childhood best friend in banora and would he save them from certain death by the hands of shinra???
໒⦂ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑.
notes. hi anon, you’re so real for this request let me slap you with some angst real QUICK — or um, hurt / comfort.. ahem, luckily i finished this part in cc a couple nights ago otherwise i would be clowning🫥 ALSO THE GREAT WAR FR FIT A LITTLE TOO MUCH HERE
genre. angst + hurt / comfort
tw. detailed descriptions of injuries
genesis rhapsodos x gn!reader.
the smell of smoke polluted your lungs as a cough left your lips, eyes barely half lidded.
how.. had it come to this?
the logs holding your home childhood home together began to scorch, crack and cave in on itself — blocking most, if not all, plausible escape routes.
what had banora — or rather, the people of banora — done to earn such a cruel kismet?
sweat trickled from your forehead down to your chin, the heat sweltering —growing even more unbearable by the minute. had your predecessors known an aerial assault like this would befall their homes one day.. perhaps they would have reconsidered their building materials. alas, it was too late for that.
had you caused something to share part of this punishment, too?
blends of warm colors engulfed your vision as you ascended the decaying steps to what once was your chambers. a place of solace, where you would read to your heart’s content and indulge in your hobbies. the stairs that once led up to your happy place now groaned in protest, waiting to wither away into dust.
would there be enough time to evade fate?
the darkened planks snapped beneath your battered boots, throwing you forward onto your knees at the top of the stairwell with a stuttered yelp.
or was there truly no way out, but death?
ash and grime painted the surface of whatever skin you had left exposed, eyes glossing over with tears as the flames kissed your limbs. it was painful, unlike anything you’d felt before, but you told yourself to endure.
what choice was there but to tolerate it?
you wouldn’t trust in help being on the way, not with banora deserted — oddly deprived of its population. the only one left.. had been the mother of a childhood friend of yours.
was she suffering the same as you were? or had she been lucky to make it out, likely not unscathed, but alive at least..?
or.. would she suffer worse? as the parents of your other childhood friend had a few days ago.
such was karma, sadly. but with the mother, stuck in that house alone for years after the loss of her remarried husband, and the later departure of her son going off to join the elite SOLDIER program.. perhaps death was the solace needed to be set free and return to the planet at last, sailing the lifestream in peace.
you forced yourself back to your feet, wincing at the chars and cuts poking through the holes of your clothing. exhaustion was creeping up on you — coercing you into dropping your efforts and allow yourself to be consumed entirely by the great inferno.
but something — a gut feeling — told you it was not your time yet. whether or not that had been a fear of dying or a selfish desire to defy destiny.. remained unclear.
all you knew, is that you needed to hang on and get out.
“almost there..” you whispered to yourself as a reassurance, despite feeling as though your skin had been peeling off. layer by layer, tissue by tissue, melting down into a pathetic pool of residue.
a final stumble towards your windowsill and you nearly breathed out in relief. the casement thankfully had no fallen logs or debris to block your exit, however, the real obstacle would be the drop that awaited you.
grabbing ahold of a stool that once paired with your now destroyed vanity, you lined the pegs up with your window, heaving a breath. “here goes.”
not wasting another second, you drove the piece of furniture into the glass, watching as it shattered into thousands — millions of pieces.
the flames howled against the breeze, growing with fury as you hissed when they grazed your skin.
there was no luxury left for stalling, you needed to get out and fast.
overcome with sorrow, you threw one final glance at your precious, shriveling, home before stepping onto the charred outline.
escape was at last within your grasp, and yet..
your breath hitched, trapping in your throat when you realized how far the fall had been, and no less.. into a field of fire.
..it continued to be so far out of reach.
stay in your home and die with it, or flee your home and die before it — those had been the options that had presented themselves to you. both equally gruesome.
a series of cracking halted your train of thoughts, panic flooding you as the wooden trim fractured beneath your weight.
stripped of a surface to stand on, your hand flew out to seize the splintered frame, eyes widening as you did so.
was this.. the end?
the log crumpled beneath your tight hold, nails clawing helplessly for dear life as your vision began to blur.
maybe.. it was.
not wanting to witness your demise, you squeezed your eyes shut despite the tears that leaked out. it was probably wise to just give in.. and accept fate for whatever it was.
only, it never came.
a feather-light touch caressed your body as a pair of arms secured you against a firm chest, lifting you into the air.
startled, you opened your eyes despite your fears to find a crimson jacket — mixed with charcoal. it.. it couldn’t be.
“falling out of a window, my dearest?” a chuckle seemed to follow as your body was cradled closer to your savior. “you would be wise not to do so while in my absence.. who would be your hero, then?”
had your eyes deceived you amidst the calamity brought upon your homeland? had the fumes gotten to you so badly that your mind had created an image of your friend, now winged, rushing to your aid..
or was it all real?
“ge.. nesis..” you winced, dragging your gaze over to the dark wing protruding from his right shoulder blade before looking up at the ginger. “is it.. really you?”
the former first class SOLDIER regarded you for a moment, an absentminded smile on his lips as he let out a mirthless laugh. “does my monstrous appearance frighten you that much, y/n?”
monstrous? “where did you get that sort of conclusion..? i’m over here thinking this is all.. just a dream, a-and that’s what you assume i think?” you scoffed, reaching a hand to pinch his cheek despite your wounds before closing your eyes. “you are completely mistaken, do not ask me that ever again. you, genesis, are not a monster.”
he stared down at you for a brief second, descending slowly as his boots at last made contact with the ground. “a man who brought discord upon his homeland is anything but a ‘hero’, therefore ‘monster’ emerges as the more suitable term.” the mako-eyed male answered softly, casting one final glance toward his crumbling home — the banora apples melting away with his memories.
knitting your brows together, you lifted your gaze, frowning. “you.. did this?” your voice came out as a whisper, heart trapped in your throat. genesis couldn’t possibly have done so.. it couldn’t have been his doing.
his eyes lowered back down to yours, the sullied smile still tugging at his lips. “indirectly, i suppose, yes.” he affirmed, looking up at the smoke filled sky. “shinra did not take kindly to mine and angeal’s resignation. this, it seems, was their response.” burning a town off the face of the planet until was unrecognizable.
as if it had never been there to begin with.
you gripped his jacket tighter, dropping your head to his chest. “i’ll never forgive them..”
genesis petted your head gently, gaze sharpening. “you would be right not to.”
notes. oki finally finished this, several sittings were taken but here you go anon, i hope you enjoyed it😭 there was not much genesis but he saved the day, um kind of??? maybe.. but yeah🥹
↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask
#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics.#ffvii#final fantasy 7 x reader#ff7#final fantasy 7 crisis core#ffvii x reader#ff7 x reader#genesis rhapsodos x you#genesis rhapsodos x reader#genesis rhapsodos x y/n#genesis rhapsodos#genesis ff7#genesis ffvii#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#ff7 crisis core#final fantasy vii x reader#final fantasy genesis
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➷ Kinktober 2023
Day XXII: Knife play || Nikto
Cross-posted on Ao3.
TW: light bondage, knife play, throat fucking, fingering.
Goosebumps spread across your skin as he scraped your skin with the dull side of the blade, dragging the knife expertly along your body with steady hands, his eyes never losing concentration as the tip pressed closer to your navel, your breathing shallow and slow.
He had you on your back, straddling your body and pinning you between his legs, sitting on your thighs but not putting much weight on you, just enough to keep you still. Your arms were tied above your head, your fingers holding the sheets tightly beneath you as he instructed.
You felt the need to put all your trust in him—he was complicated, so to speak, but that didn't stop you from letting him do it. He had already torn off your panties and bra, your body completely exposed and at his mercy.
He moved away from your legs and opened them, sliding the flat side of the blade between your folds, your breath hitching at the cold metal pressing against your clit. He seemed fascinated by it, moving it away and watching the wetness shine on it, and there was no point in hiding it—you were aroused by it.
Feeling the sharpness traveling through your skin, your heart pounding in your chest, sparking pure fear in you, your stomach churning from the mixed sensations, emotions fighting against each other and blurring the line you thought you had.
With a quick movement, he took the blade in his gloved hands, letting the handle touch your wet folds, playing with it as if it were a common toy, pulling it closer to your hole. He felt almost dizzy-every nerve in his body tingled with the power you had given him, as if you were giving him your life to control and decide.
It stirred something in him—awakened the beast in him, just as you had exposed your neck enough for his fangs to close on the soft and tender flesh, trusting him not to do so. The hilt was already inside your hole, and he couldn't help himself at the sight, shaking beneath him with both fear and pleasure.
A dangerous combination, he had to admit.
He let it in as he lowered his pants enough, his hard cock springing free from its confinement, closing the distance from you and letting his cock touch your lips, obediently taking his cock into your mouth to the hilt, hearing him release a look of satisfaction, relaxing your jaw as he used your mouth as he pleased. He grabbed your head and lifted it slightly off the bed, holding it so he could move his hips freely to pleasure himself.
You let him fuck your mouth at his own pace, grunts of pleasure escaping his throat while still muffled by a simple balaclava, his fingers tangled in your hair while the handle of the knife was still inside your hole, your hole fluttering around, making you feel even more aroused.
Nikto took his time, holding you still as you began to squirm beneath him from the lack of hair, gasping each time he pulled back, only to go back again until he felt your lips touching his balls, finishing in your throat and forcing you to swallow, his eyes staring hungrily at you from above.
He finally lets you breathe, chest heaving and eyes unfocused as he goes back between your legs, playing with the knife inside you as small moans escape your lips, his gloved fingers soon finding your clit and drawing circles over it, trying your best not to make any sudden movements with your legs—it was easier said than done, paying special attention to that bundle of nerves that made you see stars, your hips jerking at the orgasm that washed over you, too lightheaded to realize that he had already put the knife away the moment he saw your legs move too much.
He waits until you've calmed down, unties your arms and cleans you with a tissue, his eyes attentive as he searches for any cuts on your skin, relaxing when he finds none.
You watched as he took off his shirt and lay down on your side, letting you snuggle closer to his chest—he couldn't help his heart beating faster in his chest—and closed his eyes as you both drifted off peacefully to sleep.
#nikto#call of duty#nikto cod#mwii nikto#cod nikto#call of duty nikto#nikto x reader#nikto mwii#cod#cod mwii#call of duty mw2#cod mw
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Why these trendy gross men are predators (astro analysis)
tw: mentions of grooming!
Metroboomin, now exposed as an open and shameless child predator uncoincidentally has a whole Libra stellium that the SN is running through. And it's being activated via Drake's 3H that can be associated with inner-circle connections or (from an artist's perspective) having brief projects with. The SN in Libra during our current cycle is bringing issues of past harm done to victims to light. Another person this immediately affected months back is Jonathan Majors who has his Mercury and Venus in Libra.
Drake's placidus Sun crosses back into 3rd house. It also conjoins Pluto (in Scorpio) and is copresent with Venus. This combination on its own doesn't mean anything. But when you add context, with Scorpio as the lens, it has a sinister effect where those you're hanging out with casually for work are also people who have issues. Since he has a Mars that hovers between the 6th and 7th houses in the 'Venusian' decan of Aquarius, imo, it spells out work place misogyny that forms not only camaraderie, but due to Scorpio hiding things in the general 3H of 'early childhood development' is..1+1=2. Meaning.. sharing a hobby (3H) of underage girls being tossed between temporary coworkers or it just being something they all have in common separately.
Mars in the 7H can play out as antagonism towards women in the charts of terrible men. Usually has something to do with the mother. Drake has a 12H Cancer Moon (11H in placidus) which forms watery trines to his whole sign 8th and 4th houses. Water houses hold memory (water--it's absorbent nature) and can link to trauma because they play a role in the emotional parts of us we keep private and are processing or unaware of. In the charts of abusive people, water, imo, plays out as following the rhythmic cycles of trauma because they're motivated by deeply felt (water gets into things) emotional spite. And trines and sextiles allow for it to flow unimpeded. Since those are supportive aspects, it means that the behavior is aided and encouraged. Its occurrence in water houses gives me a visual of it happening, like rivers and motes below things, beneath larger systems or served as connective wave lengths between people like bodily tissue.
The Moon and Jupiter are also in domicile (in their respective homes) in Cancer and Pisces, so this behavior was downright encouraged and he was very at home doing it (could be literal). And they're forming the belly of their grand water trine to his Scorpio Venus. The middle decan of Scorpio is associated with the 6 of Cups and the 6oC relates to childhood or nostalgia in many tarot card pulls. It's what we're holding onto which we're afraid to let go of. You're following me here. In the middle decan between two cards that are associated with not having enough of something or too overwhelmed by choices (5 and 7 of cups), the 6 is where we're happy with what we have and can happily indulge. When you combine this with all of the 'positive' neutral astrological elements discussed, Drake, flat out, has 0 remorse, never thought it was a problem, and knew he could get away with his behavior safely and uninterrupted... until now.
However, as per my last 2 audios about the Drake/Kendrick beef on my Patreon, all of that Scorpio, IMO can lead to paranoia. And in the 4H, unless you are absolutely convinced nothing is out to get you, you will tend to be living like a wild person muttering to themselves off their meds in their house unless you transmute that control issue into something (that isn't a person).
I feel as if he chose to quell that, partially, in ruthlessly controlling and grooming the most unprotected and exploited group of people. Young girls.
#drake#metro boomin#celebrity astrology#astrology#hip hop astrology#this is not limited to hip hop btw it's just a tag so i can find shit#astro rants
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Had the weirdest experience prepping a euro mount today.
The deer was completely missing an eye!
TW: mild descriptive gore
There was absolutely no indication that it was gone, or what happened to it. There wasn’t any damage to the skin or the skull/socket itself, and there was no sign of parasites or insect activity. I didn’t even notice the eye was missing until I was skinning it!
But there also wasn’t any blood or scar tissue inside the socket to indicate either a new or old injury.
It was a completely clean socket, save for exposed veins that feed blood to the eye that should’ve been there.
It saves me some work, but it is a head scratcher.
#the remaining eye was larger than usual too#other than that it’s a normal whitetail#shame it’s a euro and not a shoulder mount#would’ve been cool to have a one eyed buck#anyway#taxidermy#vulture culture#oddities#taxidermist#bone cleaning#deer talks#cw dead animal#tw animal death#tw dead animal#cw animal death#european mount#I’d post a pic but I really don’t want to post raw stuff on here#tryin to keep this blog E for everyone
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Sanctuary
— (Caerwyn & Te’lise)
.
TW// brief descriptions of treating wounds.
.
It was a quiet afternoon in Skyhold’s Apothecary.
The room was alight with the sun’s glow, turning the specks of dust floating past the windows into glittering gold. Te’lise might have admired it, as she admired all simple beauties in the world, had her attention not been so entirely focused on the comatose man currently lying in her bed.
His arrival the night before had been frightening and unexpected, heralded by a pounding at the door that had Te’lise lurching out of bed before her brain had even fully awakened. Bewildered, she had allowed a somber procession of ten Inquisition soldiers to come streaming in, at the front of which her patient was swaddled in a blanket and being gently carried. It hadn’t taken her long to snap out of her daze and into her Healer’s mindset, and she had ordered him to be set down on the heavy oak table in the middle of the room.
What followed was a long, exhausting, stressful night of trying to keep her patient alive. His right hand had recently been amputated after a battle wound had infected it beyond saving, according to one of his comrades, who had been filling her in as she rushed to and fro gathering armfuls of medicinal herbs and supplies. It seemed that the infection had now made a nasty reappearance, throwing his body into a state of sepsis. One of his comrades had found him lying unconscious outside of his tent, and they had immediately rushed him to her.
His name was Captain Caerwyn of Regiment Six, according to his worried companions. If he has a surname, they had no knowledge of it. According to them, he was a fine leader and an even finer gentleman, as well as their friend. It had taken much soothing on her part to convince them to leave her to work. It was clear that they cared a great deal for him, providing only further incentive for her to succeed.
Te’lise had spent the next four hours stabilizing Caerwyn’s condition. She had rubbed Royal Elfroot essence into the skin above his lymph nodes to reduce inflammation, applied cooling compresses to his forehead, neck, and torso, and placed a bowl of steaming water infused with Embrium extract nearby to clear his airways. Simultaneously, she had worked tirelessly at undressing his bandages, painstakingly cleaning out the infected mess that was his amputated arm, removing the necrotic flesh, sewing up the exposed tissue, and finally lathering the angry red skin with a soothing Elfroot salve. By the time one of the soldiers had managed to return with one of the free mages assigned to the Healing Ward, Te’lise had Caerwyn’s wounds cleaned and wrapped with fresh bandages. The mage was able to remove the infection in his blood after that, and he was successfully brought back from the brink of death.
Te’lise had proceeded to stay up at his bedside for the rest of the night and long into the morning, doing everything in her power to bring down his raging fever.
Presently, Te’lise sighed tiredly as she poured a fresh pitcher of water into the wooden bowl she had been using to wet cloths for his burning skin. Her eyes ached, her hands were shaking, and she had a headache that profoundly soured any bright mood she might have had on such a beautiful afternoon.
“Sylaise, preserve me,” she whispered into the silence of the room. “Falon’Din, have mercy. Let me save this man.”
A faint rustling came from the bed. Following it was a hoarsely whispered, “Is this the Beyond?”
Startled, Te’lise nearly upset the full bowl in front of her. She whirled and stopped short as her eyes met those of the wounded man in her bed.
“Oh!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
The Captain blinked at her wearily, then slid his gaze around the Apothecary, taking in its cluttered interior with a hazy awareness. “Where…”
The sound of his voice snapped her out of her shock. “Hush, Serah, you must save your strength.” She hurried across the room to the tall shelf housing rows upon rows of vials of varying shapes and sizes, and selected one that she knew contained a healing tonic. “How are you feeling? Still feverish? Wait – do not answer that. Oh dear, you still seem so flushed… a cooling tonic too, then, perhaps…”
Te’lise shuffled over to the bed with an armful of vials and carefully placed them on the wooden stool beside the bed. When she glanced up, Caerwyn was watching her with the most peculiar expression. She felt herself flush, and offered a sheepish smile.
“Where am I?” He whispered hoarsely, observing as she worked at removing the stoppers of the vials.
“Well, certainly not in the Beyond,” Te’lise said warmly. “You are in Skyhold’s Apothecary. Your companions brought you in last night, when you were in critical condition.”
“Am I to presume… that you healed me?”
“I helped in healing you,” she acknowledged, raising the vial to his lips, “But I cannot solely claim credit for your recovery.”
“And yet you are the one who remains. For that, I am grateful.” He whispered, accepting the few mouthfuls of potion. Te’lise started at his words, and watched in surprise as the skin around his eyes crinkled in a faint imitation of a smile.
She took the vial from him and set it aside, searching his face. “How do you feel, Captain Caerwyn? Is the pain troubling you?”
“What I feel now is a blessing compared to the agony I endured before,” he assured her. “It is only—“
Caerwyn lifted his right arm and stopped abruptly, his face whitening. Te’lise followed his gaze to his amputated limb.
“Your hand had to be removed in order to stave off mortal infection,” she reminded him gently. “According to the Surgeon, it was the only way to save your life at the time.”
“I had forgotten.” He said.
There was terrible bleakness in his voice that squeezed at her heart. Without thinking, Te’lise reached out and gently placed a hand upon his shoulder. He stared down at it, then up at her with the expression of a man who was lost, and did not know how to find his way.
“What troubles you, Serah?” She asked him gently. Te’lise knew what troubled him, of course – she only wanted him to say the words.
Caerwyn exhaled, bitterly tossing his head back against the pillows. “What doesn’t? I am a soldier, a Captain in the Inquisition. I am to rally forces and lead warriors into battle under the Inquisitor’s banner. How am I to do this now that I am – I am –” He grimaced and turned his face away, but not before Te’lise caught a glimpse of the silver lining his dark lashes.
Te’lise watched him quietly for a moment, allowing him the time to compose himself. He was a strong, handsome man, she observed, and there was a gentleness in his face and demeanour that contrasted fascinatingly with his warrior’s physique.
‘What an interesting, beautiful person,’ she thought to herself, and began to speak.
“Did you know that I live with a chronic illness?” She said, and smiled when he looked over at her with a muted flash of surprise. “Indeed. It is a bit ironic, no? A sick Healer? I am also a mage, though most are never able to guess. This is because the illness that I live with prevents me from using magic extensively, for that would require more stamina and endurance than I physically possess. To do so harms me more than it helps.”
“But… is there not magic to…?” He asked tentatively.
“Perhaps there is,” Te’lise acknowledged. “But I have not encountered it in my lifetime. Perhaps I never will. Until recently, I had spent so long dreaming of a day when I could be cured. When I could be ‘whole’. That is how you feel now, isn’t it? You think yourself to be incomplete, because when mere days ago you had two hands, now you have only the one.”
“Yes,” Caerwyn whispered. “I cannot help it.”
“You are not incomplete because you are one-handed, Caerwyn,” Te’lise told him softly. “Just as I am not incomplete because I am ill. Someone wise once told me, ‘A tree does not derive its strength from its branches, but from its roots.’” She squeezed his shoulder gently, and whispered, “And now, just as a man does not derive his strength from his hands, but from his heart.”
She smiled at him as his eyes widened, patting the coverlet with her hand. “Your life will be a little different now, but it is far from over. Should you find the will to do it, you can ensure that your life is as rich and full as any other man’s, even one-handed. You are still capable of love, laughter, and thought. The sun is still shining, and the tall grasses still dancing in the wind. Shall we not enjoy these precious things while we can, instead of lamenting over what might have been?”
“You are wise, Healer,” he finally breathed, his jewelled eyes dancing across her face. “When but mere moments ago I was troubled, I now feel soothed. Can you heal with your words as well as your hands?”
Te’lise tipped her head back and laughed. “I used no magic here, Captain, only sound advice bestowed upon me by another.”
“Such modesty,” he said softly, and there was a tender, inquisitive note in his voice that made her face feel oddly warm. “Moments ago, you called me by my given name. ‘Caerwyn.’”
Te’lise blanched. “Ir abelas… that was entirely improper of me–“
“I took no offence to it, Healer,” he assured her, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I only wanted to know your name in return.”
Te’lise lowered her gaze to the flowery coverlet, brushing a freckled hand over its surface. “My name is Te’lise,” she said softly. “Once, Te’lise Lavellan.”
“Te’lise,” he whispered, and suddenly her vision was filled by leaves dancing in the wind, and the sun’s glow as it bathed the sloping valleys of Alhan’amelan in golden light, the echoes of long-faded laughter caressing her face and falling away.
“I owe you my life,” Caerwyn said now, his eyes searching her face. “And now, I find myself thinking that I could not find a finer soul to owe my thanks to.”
Te’lise flushed and withdrew her hand, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “You are very generous in your praise, Serah.”
Caerwyn cleared his throat. “I apologize. Normally I am not this… ah. Well. ‘Generous in my praise,’ as you put it.”
“Perhaps the medicine has loosened your tongue,” Te’lise said cheekily, and the two of them exchanged tentative smiles.
The months since Solas had left her shattered and bare in Crestwood had all but destroyed her, and her heart was only beginning to mend. But as Te’lise sat at her own bedside now, watching over the wounded man with gentle, jewelled eyes, she felt a knot in her heart hesitantly loosen, and a tender leaf on a barren branch began to unfurl.
In that moment, the world no longer felt as unbearable, and the realization made her smile.
.
New oc :) 👀 the piece features Caerwyn’s pet wolves in the background, Alifalon and Alhannon. I hope to draw more of them soon!
#caer’lise#te’lise lavellan#captain caerwyn#alifalon & alhannon#haverdoodles#art#dragon age#dragon age origins#dragon age 2#dragon age inquisition#haverdoodles oc#digital art#quite proud of this one!
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Watching Through The Window ~ Ticci Toby
(TW: Blood, Car crash, death, abuse, hallucinations, hospitals, fire, swearing, ETC…)
The only thing I wanted was for a family who got along. A dad who wasn’t abusive, a mother who would do the right thing and get her kids out of the crossfire of her drunk husband’s anger, and a sister who would care a little more so we could get out of that house. But in that house the only thing I could do was sit in my room and watch the outside world through the glass pains of the window. I could see the forest that was overpopulated with trees, the clouds that were scattered about though the sky, the neighboring houses of the people who didn’t know what happened within the walls of this house, and the passing cars full of seemingly happy families.
It seems like the more I try to make things better the more I get beat by a drunk bastard who thinks of me as a mistake, the faulted child he shouldn’t have had. Good thing I was born with a nerve defect to where I can’t feel pain. My tourettes are the main reason he hates me, the main reason why he and everyone in this town calls me a freak of nature. It’s not like I had a choice of having it or not. No one really talks to me unless they want me to do something for them, bully me for existing, or if they want the answers to the homework.
That next day mom sent me and my sister to the store. I was watching through the window at the road seconds before my sister, Lyra, lost control of the wheel while trying to avoid hitting a deer. The car flipped and turned but the second we landed I saw her laying on the ground bloodied with glass piercing her body. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital in a stiff bed that was as hard as a rock while some thin sheets that feel like tissues draped over half my body. The nurses and doctors were all looking at me as my body twitched and I tried to move only for the nurses to try and ease me back down.
I yell at them, demanding to see my sister, but as I do I notice there’s a gash through the left side of my face. The gash exposed the left side of my mouth, my teeth and gums. The more I yell at the nurses and doctors that I want to see my sister the more they try to shove me back down so I’m laying flat on that dreaded boulder they classified as a bed. “She’s gone. Your sister, Lyra, died in that crash.” The head doctor told me which made something inside me shatter into a million tiny bits. The next few seconds were spent with the nurses shoving me down onto the bed as I screamed and fully broke down.
The only person who gave me hope for a peaceful life was just brutally killed while trying to keep me safe. If she wouldn’t have swerved to hit the deer, the antlers would’ve gone right through the windshield and I would’ve been where she is now. Dead and practically shredded to pieces. A few days after being constantly pestered by the doctors and nurses I was okayed to go back home. My mom was the only one who willingly visited me in the hospital whenever she wasn’t dealing with my dad’s drunken beatings and pettiness. She took me back to the house, it wasn’t my home. Not anymore. We pulled up in the driveway only to see dear ol’ dad standing in the yard. “He claims to love us but he didn’t even come to see Lyra whenever she was dying! He didn’t come visit me once!” I loudly exclaimed as my tourettes started to kick back up in high gear.
All my mom could do was sigh as she got out of the car and walked around to the side I was sitting on, opening the door and closing it behind me as she practically drug me towards the house. “He’s 13, he can walk by himself.” My dad said before sipping from his nearly empty beer bottle. “I’m 18.” I mutter angrily under my breath then shove my mom’s hands off me.
That night I was sitting in my window sill just like I had done before I lost Lyra. I watched as the street lights turned on from the overgrowing darkness of nightfall but that’s when I noticed a tall pale white man with no face wearing a suit seemingly staring back at me from underneath the light across from my house. My head felt fuzzy before I fell backwards onto my carpeted bedroom floor. I wiped my nose after feeling something dripping from it, pulling my hand away I saw a crimson liquid. It was blood. My blood.
My mom had apparently heard me hit the floor so when she flung my door open like the FBI was raiding the house she instantly rushed over to me and scooped me up in her arms. As she helped me up I looked outside again but only this time the man from before was gone.
Over the next few days something has felt…off. I keep seeing the faceless figure from the other night out of the corner of my eyes, I think I’m going insane. The sound of static and high pitched ringing keeps infesting my ears, the nosebleeds are more common than they should be, and to top it off the drunkenness of my dad only got worse after Lyra’s funeral. It was a Friday night and mom had just gone to sleep after working over time all week to support all of us in the house since my dad only spends money on alcohol and cigarettes for himself. Taking money from mom and refusing to work then coming home and abusing us. I heard that abusive bastard downstairs rummaging around, probably drunk again, all the abusive thoughts of what he’d done to me, Lrya, and mom boiled in my mind and made something snap.
I got up from the seat in the window and went downstairs as quietly as I could since my ticks and twitches caused me to move around jaggedly. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs I saw him, the faceless man, standing under the streetlight outside. I looked at him for what felt like hours before dad’s voice chimed in and broke my concentration, “What do you think you’re doing you brat?! Go back to your room before I give you an even worse beating than earlier! Hell you’re such a freak you can’t even feel it!” He told me but before I knew what I was doing a twitch caused my hand to fly up and pop him right in the face. The sickening crack of his nose breaking still echoes through my mind to this day. Blood stained the carpet and splattered on the wall next to him as he clutched his wounded face. When I turned back to face the window I saw the faceless man was no longer there but at that moment I was shoved to the ground by dad.
I kicked his feet out from underneath him and ran into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the holder. “What are you going to do?! Stab me?” The drunk questioned me but I didn’t answer and only gave him a sinister smile and stalked back to where he laid on the blood covered floor. “I’m t-tired of you and your crap!” I laughed after stuttering due to a tick. All that man could do was throw misdirected punches at me but he only landed one and that was one to my eye that would’ve greatly affected the average person, that’s why I love not being able to feel pain. I didn’t hesitate to jab that butcher's knife 12 inches into his gut. His screams after the metal stabbed him woke my mom up. She rushed down the stairs and began crying and screaming at me. “Toby?! HOW COULD YOU?!” she cried and held my father’s bloodied body.
She reached for her phone, screaming and sobbing that she’s calling the cops. Anxiety set in and I ran out of the kitchen and threw the door to the garage open. I grabbed two hatchets and hooked them both through the belt loops of my jeans before looking at the matches on the shelf above the gas can that was almost completely full. Lyra had filled it up the day before we got into the accident. I was snapped once again from my thoughts at the sound of sirens, I grabbed the gas can and the matches. The gas left a trail behind me as I ran out of the small side door and into the yard.
Soon the police arrived but it was already too late, the house was completely engulfed in flames. “If my mother loved that abuser so damn much then she could burn with him.” the voices in my head told me as a wicked smile formed on my face. The police tried to catch me but I was too quick for them, at least I was until a tree root snagged my shoe and caused me to fall in the mud. I didn’t feel any pain but the way I landed knocked the wind out of me. The smell of fire and burning wood filled my nostrils and when I opened my eyes again I was surrounded by fire. A pair of shoes stood in front of me and as I looked up I saw him. The faceless man from underneath the street light. Static filled my mind and slowly everything faded to darkness.
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Kinkmas - Day 3: Threesome W/ Jaehyun & Mark
Post Date: 3rd December 2022
Content: Smut - NCT Jaehyun x Reader x NCT Mark
WC: 1.4K
TW?: Threesome/ Friends with Benefits/ Penetration/ Oral (giving)/ Creampies/ Overstimulation/ Namenames: Princess
Summary: Tensions are high when you “forget” your presents for each of them, giving them something they could never forget instead.
Masterlist Kinkmas Masterlist Prompt list
“Y/N, open your present from us!” Jaehyun and Mark call out in sync, as you peep your head around the kitchen door.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” you reply, rushing to fill up their cups with mulled wine to enjoy the evening together, watching Christmas movies, having some snacks and just getting into the Christmas spirit.
Well, that’s what both of the boys were thinking that was happening. You hadn’t gotten them anything, wondering what could you give them a surprise that they’ve never had before? Until the almost perfect idea comes into your head, just hoping that they’d love to take up the opportunity.
“Oh wow, that’s a huge box!” You exclaim in surprise, carefully placing their glasses on the table before kneeling in front of the box, reminding them that they really didn’t have to get you anything.
Opening your present, your eyes fall onto many gifs within it, with a paper tissue to protect them all. They really couldn’t get it wrong, with bath bombs, socks, new PJs and some new and the cutest set of mugs possible, with little cats on them.
“Thank you guys, but seriously, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say softly, holding a mug in your hands as they smile, giving each other a fist bump but following with a shaking of their heads.
“We did,” Jaehyun says, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds his head up in the palm of his hands, Mark nodding in agreement and sharing the cutest little smile.
With your idea rushing through your mind, you pick up your present and rush to the bedroom as if to put it away so it’ll be safe, but you take the extra time to quickly change into lingerie before covering yourself with a dressing gown and heading back to the living room.
Your hands shake from nerves as you were unsure whether or not they were going to take like your way of giving them their present, but you really couldn’t hold back. You’ve been dreaming about having a threesome with them for almost 3 years since you’ve known them.
“Oh hey, you changed?” Mark notices, smiling as he sees how comfy your dressing gown was, Jaehyun looking away from the TV to lay his eyes on you.
Pretending to have something behind your back, you walk out carefully, not to “expose” their fake present, “Do you guys want your present now?” you ask with a slight shake in your voice.
Noticing their excited nods, you pause for a second to take a deep breath before untying your dressing down, letting it fall off your shoulders as you lean against the wall, exposing your body covered in the lace underwear to them.
The boys’ eyes widen at the sight, hurrying to cover up the boners that were so obviously prominent through their shorts, “Uhh, you look amazing... Uhm,” Jaehyun stutters, as Mark nods in agreement as both are unable to take their eyes off of you.
Mark is absolutely speechless at the sight, biting down on his hand as he tries to be respectful and look away but it was like he was addicted to the way you looked, similarly to Jaehyun who seemed to be a little more confident than Mark.
“So, is that our present?” Jaehyun asks with a smirk, leaning forward as his bottom lip gets caught in his teeth, watching you carefully as you walk towards them, squeezing yourself between them on the couch, “Not all of it” you wink as Mark thought his head was about to explode.
“Both of us, with you?” Mark asks out of nowhere as you turn to face him, nodding in reply as you lean over him, cupping a cheek in one hand as you place a kiss on his lips, unintentionally making it a lot more heated than expected.
As your lips collide with Mark’s his hand trails up your back and into your hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as he deepens the kiss, his shyness slowly wearing off. Behind you, Jaehyun was admiring the view from where he was, his hands wandering down your sides, settling on your hips before he places butterfly kisses along your shoulder.
Once Mark starts to nip at your lip between kisses, you trail your hand down his torso, and under the restriction of his shorts and boxers, taking his hard, dripping cock out of them to pump him slowly, his little whimpers audible between kisses as your lips never disconnect from his.
Jaehyun starts to toy with your cunt through your underwear, pressing circles on your clit as the fabric causes more friction, so both you and Mark were moaning messes on each other’s tongues.
“May I put it in, princess?” Jaehyun moans, palming himself through his shorts at the same time he rubs you out, making you whimper as you nod, looking back at him with a smile for him to go ahead.
When Jaehyun teases his tip at your entrance, pushing your underwear to your side, you bend down to hover over Mark’s cock, which twitches at the sight of you being over it.
The minute Jaehyun presses himself into you, your lips wrapped around Mark, the both of you moaning, at the pleasure that you were both receiving, Mark a little more than you from the vibrations of your moan on his cock.
Mark’s fingers get tangled in your head as he assists with your pace, as Jaehyun carefully holds your hips, thrusting into you with ungodly power that makes you spit all over Mark’s cock with the air that gets taken out of your lung with each thrust.
The room was filled with the lewd sounds of skin slapping, sucking and moans as well as the smell of sex filling the air. It was extremely hot with the way you had both of them at once, making them whimper and moan inside of you at each end, so much so, that minutes go by and the closer you got to your high, the closer they got.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. So good that I could cum,” Jaehyun announces with a groan as Mark hums in response, “Me too, shit”.
Back yourself into Jaehyun, and using your hand to give extra pleasure to Mark, both release into the warm and wet holes that they had themselves in, your legs vibrating as Jaehyun rides you through your high that followed after his as you swallowed the warm cum that Mark releases into your mouth.
“Shit... How’s her little tight pussy?” Mark hisses after the last drop falls onto your tongue, Jaehyun gently pulls out of you and makes you moan at the feeling.
“Try it for yourself, man,” Jaehyun growls, bending down to nip at your shoulder before switching places with Mark.
“Shit, you filled her up real good,” Mark hisses at the sight of your soaking core, Jaehyun’s cum oozing out of you, rubbing it over your core as he circles on your clit just as Jaehyun did before sliding his cock into you.
You cry out loud at the feeling of another cock filling you up so good as you take hold of Jaehyun’s jerking it as it hardens in your hand. Your lips connect with Jaehyun’s and your moans roll of your lips onto his as he leans over, circling your clit with his fingers, causing extra pleasure as Mark’s hips slam into you mercilessly.
Leaving Jaehyun’s lips, you connect them to the tip of his cock, tasting yourself and his cum on there as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not realising how overstimulated you’d get from having the both of them, combined with Jaehyun’s soft fingers toying with your clit.
It was like the best present that they’ve ever had, and they were unable to control themselves as each movement, edged them closer and closer to cumming. The both of them cursed as they called you princess and complimented how your mouth and cunt felt around them, twitching and growling as they reach their high for a second time.
Just as before, you swallow the cum that filled your mouth and your cunt pulsated around Mark’s cock as he filled you up to the brim, to the point where the cum oozed out of you, dripping down your thighs.
“Shit, that was so good,” Mark says breathlessly as Jaehyun has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, agreeing with his friend as he caressed your cheeks, gently kissing you before wiping away your tears.
“The best Christmas present that any guy could ask for,” Jaehyun adds, looking at his friend as though they’ve just won Christmas.
~
Tags: @scuzmunkie, @ateezreactionsandscenarios, @trashlord-007, @fanfictrashlord-007
#kpop#kpop blog#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#kpop kinkmas#nct#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fanfic#nct imagines mark#nct imagines jaehyun#nct smut#nct kinkmas#mark lee smut#jung jaehyun smut
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I just read your tiny whump academia drabble and 👁👁 boy oh boy do I love little guys being crushed very near to the point of death where they think their bones are bending but I also started thinking hey, i wouldn't continue to trust such a small and wiley pet in a shoebox even if he is a puny nerd, I think the only way to soothe my worries about an escaping little mouse is to make sure it cant move at all shehfh- Or put it in a cute little leash and harness like a domestic rat :3 specifically a retracting leash so you can yank him back with no effort, and it makes them easier to show off for some friends or benefactors~
OKAY UM. OKAY. LET ME GO INTO A WHOLE RANT ABT THE POISONED IVY TINY AU.
tw some nsfw talk, tiny whump, bullying, academia whump, dehumanisation
so idk if u know the context for the story, but bryce is basically blackmailing nate already. nate is being mercilessly bullied and exploited by him in private, while in public nate basically "joined bryce's friend group". bryce has some compromising photos of nate that hes holding over nate's head and basically forcing him to do all of his schoolwork instead of his own to ensure 1. he doesnt have to work much 2. nate cant keep up his own first place on the college leaderboard academically. bc bryce used to be outperformed by him in just this one aspect, and he thought hm... two birds, one stone
so yeah theres already an insane power dynamic going on when nate shrinks. and bryce is like holy fucking shit this is amazing. yes i'll have to go back to doing my own schoolwork but u know what i came to love even more than not working? bullying nate. and then another aspect of it is that..... how do i say this. turns out bryce has a kink for this sort of thing and now hes just horny. theres rly no better way to phrase this. hes not even gay but hes looking at tiny nate and hes suddenly very horny abt the prospect of this helpless little creature who also happens to be his ex academic rival who was already helpless- u get the picture. i wont go into detail but that has consequences. anyway bryce is obsessed w tiny nate. he also has immense cute aggression! hes restraining himself from crushing nate's tiny bones 24/7.
moving on, this also means bryce is incredibly possessive. he's not gonna show it off to anyone, because honestly he already reported nate missing and he doesnt need anyone trying to steal nate or whatever. what he does is he keeps nate in his pencilcase for a while until he can go out and get a little custom glass box with a detachable lid. its very nice <3 it has some padding at the bottom, tissues and cotton and cloth, whatever bryce could find. tiny food and water bowls are separate and never placed in the box, because controlling when and how nate eats and drinks is another aspect he enjoys a lot. the box is shoved in the closet whenever someone comes to visit.
that being said bryce looooooves to mess w nate, looooooves to mess with immobilising him completely w clear tape for example. very fun stuff. loves how exposed and vulnerable nate is. im sure he also makes little DIY harnesses and collars and stuff, basically just imagine him tying some thread or cloth around nate and yanking him around by it. dangling nate from high places it also fun bc he has a fear of heights. the closet is also fun in itself bc nate Also has a fear of the dark! and bugs. which leads bryce to pick up earthworms and shit and lock them in the glass box w nate. hes a menace and he loves tormenting nate so so much.
but at the end of the day bryce doesnt want to kill or seriously harm nate physically. if he threatens a knife or smth, he never rly goes thru w it. maybe the lightest little scrapes. but he mostly stays away from that. hes also afraid nate will one day turn back to normal and he doesnt want a full sized nate running around without an arm or smth. (he does eventually turn back btw but by that point hes so afraid and so conditioned and bryce has told him so much abt how everyone has moved on that hes just like...... ok. i guess i only have u bryce. sure i'll stay in the closet all the time hidden away until you graduate and can take me with you to your cool new house. its ok i'll stay soulless and very obedient as always.)
bryce treats nate like a toy, and nate never gets over it. nate already felt quite dehumanised and humiliated and small and powerless when he was normal sized. going thru that ordeal being tiny and violated and hurt in so many ways just cements it in. he feels like property, he feels like a toy, he feels like he doesnt have a life outside of being bryce's thing. and he rly doesnt. whenever bryce isnt playing w him, hes locked away in a dark place that makes him feel afraid and claustrophobic and honestly as horrible as bryce is, he doesnt have any other sort of life than the hours bryce spends actively teasing and bullying him.
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@prongsfoot-microfic - aug. 7th: pack - words: 642 - tw: blood, gore
I Only Breathe When You Breathe
Sirius felt like he was dragging his breaths through his body, willing the oxygen to enter his blood. His legs burned, but he couldn’t allow them to stop. Not until they reached the barrier. It was only a little further, he could see the shimmer of it just ahead.
He turned, stumbling, to make sure James was behind him. The other man was an arm’s width away. Too far for Sirius’ liking. He slowed his pace, yelling, “C’mon!” and extending his hand. As soon as James had grasped it, they sprinted together toward the iridescent wall of magic, the cries of their pursuers ringing in their ears.
Half his body had made it through when he heard James’ cry of pain, felt his hand slip out of his. “No!” Sirius turned, instinct telling him exactly where his friend would fall. He caught James beneath the shoulders, grunting with the weight of him. He couldn’t look up to see who’d thrown the curse, couldn’t check to see how close they were, couldn’t stop to see where the blood on James’ shirt had come from. Ignoring the screams of his exhausted muscles, Sirius dragged James across the barrier, a red spark of magic exploding against the protective wall exactly where it would have met Sirius’ face a second before.
He collapsed as soon as they were both safe, catching James’ body with his own. The other man laid between his legs, his back against Sirius’ chest, face waxen, eyes closed. Sirius immediately began checking for the wound, his hands shaking as he did so. “James, James,” he was nearly whimpering, his hands covered in blood by the time he found the injury, a gaping hole in the man’s left side. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Sirius panted, his eyes welling with tears. But he needed to be able to see, he needed to fix this, so he swallowed down the panic and forced himself to breathe. “Please tell me you packed it,” he spoke to an unconscious James, reaching into the satchel across his friend’s body as gently but quickly as he could.
Finally, the tinkling sound of glass vials met his ears, and Sirius pulled the handful of them out onto the wet grass. He fumbled through them, ignoring the terror growing in the back of his mind, obsessing over how much blood James was losing with every second Sirius took. When he found the bottle, the drop of liquid in it was nearly imperceptible. “Fuck, fuck, this better be enough.” Uncorking it, he pulled James’ shirt up, ignoring the instinct to wretch at the exposed tissue. With a breath of a prayer to an entity he didn’t believe in, Sirius let the single phoenix tear fall from its container and onto James’ side.
The effect was instantaneous. The wound stopped bleeding, the tissue reforming before his eyes. The hole was so deep, even the magic of the phoenix was not enough to fully restore James’ side, but Sirius finally breathed when the skin closed over the deep crevasse, forming a scar. Immediately, his eyes flew to James’ face. “James,” he said, throat tight, tears returning.
“James,” he said again. It was not a question. It was a demand, even if his voice wavered while stating it.
As though Sirius’ words truly commanded him, James opened his eyes and took in a large breath.
Sirius loudly sobbed a laugh and threw himself over James’ shoulders. He felt James reach his right arm back, placing a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “It’s alright, Sirius,” he said softly, and both their bodies relaxed into one another’s. Sirius was crying now, the tears pouring over with no reserve. “It’s alright,” James said again, and Sirius loosened his grip, bringing their faces to touch. His tears slipped between their cheeks; the two men held each other until they dried.
#my first prongsfoot microfic!! :D#(be nice 2 me pls)#prongsfoot#prongsfoot microfic#my writing#prongsfoot fic#james potter#sirius black#j/s#marauders era fanfiction#the marauders era#marauders fic#marauders fanfic#prongsfoot*
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A BEAUTIFUL FIC I MADE. BASED ON A REAL STORY. TW A LOT OF PISS MENTIONS. ITS SET IN A BATHROOM. I DONT HAVE A PISS KINK. I PROMISE. THIS WAS A SILLY JOKE I MADE ON THE OSEMANVERSE DISCORD SERVER (were insane)
I sat on the loo, wincing horridly at the temperature of my urine. As i relieved myself i realised there was no paper to wipe with. I unlocked my phone and opened up discord, clicking on my most recent server: “Osemanverse!!” in the process. I informed them of my situation with some otherwise inappropriate words of which i got very few sorrowful responses. Allister was concerned for my bowels, and Xini decided it would be appropriate to mention that i am pregnant, therefore it was likely i did need my bowels checking out. I thanked lola, as she was the main one to understand the pain i was in.
I asked if anyone could send me some spare toilet paper via email, and Xini was willing. I sent them my gmail address and waited. Meanwhile, Ro suggested a very disturbing method of wiping, which i did not concede to, the method was to use a stock image of toilet paper and wipe with that, hoping i dont get the liquid in the charging port in the process. They then followed up with that thats what they do when they run out, allister was concerned with this information. Xini emails me an emoji of toilet roll and i respond with a thank you.
When I fully return to the server i find a confused ro, asking why we are emailing things; i respond with the fact i needed something to wipe with, which confuses them more as they say: “so you email it?” and then promptly after it turns out they also need to urinate.
I inform them that i am infact waiting for my rear end to dry and we have a short conversation about my use of the word “loo.” i change the subject by asking if they want a bathroom “check” and dont wait for a response before sending the picture; xini responds disrespectfully with “your bathroom looks dehydrated”
I finally decide its time for plan B, and send a picture of the cardboard roll used to hold toilet tissue and caption it with something along the lines of “contemplating using this.” Xini was not pleased. But soon replied to my afformentioned email with “youre welcome sweet cheeks” i make an inappropriate joke about this, but we continued on.
I soon realised it was the cardboard or nothing, Xini became a nerd and told me about microtears. Allister appeared once more, and wanted to know if we were still on about piss. Nobody replied. I randomly decided to inform them about the time i had to use the cardboard roll for faeces, xini continued being a nerd and informed me not to do that; i was absolutely baffled at that statement because i had no other options, and wondered if she expected me to sit there forever. Allisters statement was worse though, as he said to use my hand. The following part of the conversation was a bit strange as we had a miscommunication where i thought Xini was implying to wipe with my poor dog, Gerry.
I decided it would be a good idea to throw the cardboard out of reach. I then had nothing to wipe with. Ro suggested using a towel. I found another cardboard roll, and xini nerded out once more. Lola shared her own bathroom story, as a new character enters the scene: Oliver! I tell them to catch up with the conversation as they have missed a lot.
I felt faeces coming along, and panicked. I could not go through the pain of wiping that with cardboard for the second time in my life. Allister suggested running to receive the paper but i couldnt as my lower half was exposed.
Finally, a good idea was shared as Ro mentioned using pads, meanwhile they were all concerned on how Oliver allegedly doesnt wash his rear. Allister tells us he eats piss, Oliver claims its his diet. Alli then continues by saying (and i quote) “i swear theres a thing where you shit in a condom and freeze it” “and use it as a…” which concerns all of us.
I decide to start a poll using reactions, the options being to vote either wipe with pads or wipe with cardboard. They both tie. Xini suggests i use toilet roll, likely forgetting that this entire incident was caused because of lack of the paper. I finally decide to use the pads, but by this time my coin slot was dry, then i felt a drip. It splashed into the water, a tear fell from my eye (not really.) turned out…i was not dry. I had to wipe with the pad, and flushed it down, which i shouldnt have done because its not flushable but i wasnt thinking straight. I was free from the bathroom.
tags : @xini-the-octonaut @michaelnotholden @bored-boring-and-tired @artisthedgehog @0s3manv3rse @michaelholdenenjoyer @unknown-leaf @CorryGlover
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