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heich0e · 5 months

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(part 2 of emperor!sukuna)

It's dark, and so terribly silent.

It's not the kind of quiet you find comfort in. No peace, or tranquility, in the stillness. The silence is tense, like a breath you hold until your lungs begin to burn. Like time itself has frozen.

Two red eyes watch you from the shadows.

Vicious. Hungry.

You wake with a start.

"Noble guest!"

Your head whips to the side, only to find the young handmaid who had been assigned to serve you kneeling at the edge of your bed. Her hair is tied, as ever, into two neat knots on either side of her head, but her endearingly lopsided fringe still hangs down over her worried eyes.

"Miwa," you breathe, and perhaps it might be in relief if you had the right to feel any. You lift a hand to your chest and feel the way your heart is racing under your ribs.

"Are you quite well, Mistress?" she asks you in concern.

Miwa is a young girl, no more than twelve if you had to guess and, though occasionally her manners fail her, she's dutiful in your care. You're fond of her in your own way. Grateful for a face in your chambers that doesn't mean you harm, or reproach.

"Yes," you say quietly. Barely a whisper and even less truth. "I'm well."

Your eyes sweep around your quarters, and suddenly you have a thought.

"What's the hour?" you ask her. It's night time, you're sure of it. Late if you were put upon to wager. "What brings you here so late?"

Miwa's eyes slip away, like she suddenly has trouble meeting yours.

"Miwa?" you ask again, more insistent this time.

The young girl fists her robe in her small hands, her head hanging slightly.

"It's the Crown Prince, Mistress."

Your chest feels tight.

"Yuuji?" You sit yourself further up in your bed, your sheet slipping down to pool in your lap. "Is he well? Has something happened?"

Miwa looks up at you with eyes that glisten in the soft light of the lanterns around your room, her lips pulled into a tight line.

"I know you and the Crown Prince have become good friends, Mistress," she says to you quietly, and you're surprised. You didn't know that anyone was aware of the little Prince's visits to your quarters. The girl's nose scrunches up. "Which is why it upsets me that the head of household forbid the staff from telling you."

"What's happened to him?" You feel panic in your veins, hot and quickly spreading, in the wake of her words.

"He's ill, Mistress. Fevered. The poor thing has not had the strength to leave his bed for some two days now."

You rip your blankets from your lap, throwing your legs over the side of your bed. You stand quickly, ignoring the way your blood rushes to your head and makes you feel dizzy.

Miwa stares up at you in shock from where she kneels at your feet.

"Come," you tell her firmly, extending your hand down towards her to help her up. "Take me to him."

Miwa knows her way through the Emperor's palace in a way so familiar that you could never hope to memorize the paths similarly yourself. You wonder how long she's been serving in the royal household to be so intimately familiar with every corridor, path, and passageway. She manages to take you all the way across the expansive property, from your own court to the one in which he Prince resides, without being seen by another living soul.

The two of you pause, pressed close together in a narrow passage covered by a tapestry.

"Will there be guards inside?" you ask her, keeping your voice low.

She shakes her head emphatically.

"The guards are outside the door. This is an entry that the servants in the Prince's household use. I assure you he's quite alone in there—his maids are away to take tea since he's resting, and the court physician has left him for the night."

You nod slightly.

"If I hear anyone coming, I'll fetch you," Miwa assures you, and you know she is sincere.

You lift the edge of the silk that covers your small hiding place, and step into the Crown Prince's quarters.

His room is not wholly dissimilar to your own—a realization that only makes you feel a little ill as you realize just how out of place you are in the place you've been confined. On the other side of the wide room is an elevated bed, and there in the centre lies the small form of the Prince.

His round cheeks, though always somewhat rosy, are flushed a violent scarlet with fever. His skin is pale and waxy, and is dewy with perspiration though his little nose is ice to touch. His chest rises and falls in shaky exhales, and his lips—parted as he gasps for breath—are dry and cracking.

Your heart rends at the sight of him.

"Miwa," you call quietly towards where you know the passageway to be. When you get no response you dare to repeat yourself a little louder. "Miwa."

Her head pops out from behind the fine silk weave.

You wave her over to where you kneel at Yuuji's bedside.

"Mistress, what is it?" she asks as she approaches.

You look down towards Yuuji, brushing some of his soft blush-coloured hair back from his sticky forehead.

"How long do we have before the maids return?" you ask her.

"They often take longer than they should," she says, rolling her lip between her teeth. "They bring wine to the guards outside and overindulge in their company. The head maid of the household often scolds them for it."

You feel a pang of resentment towards the women who fall short in their care for the little boy before you. You ache upon the realization of his neglect.

"I'll need hot water, and cloths."

"Pardon, Mistress?" she squeaks, watching as you roll up your sleeves.

"Hurry, Miwa," you brush off her effort to clarify, peering up at her with resolution in your eyes. "We haven't much time."

You scoop the small boy up into your arms, carrying him over to a nearby window. You open it as quietly as you can with him in your grasp, and then settle in on the floor as the cold night's breeze rushes in. Miwa appears soon with a basin of warm water and the cloths you requested, her eyes wide as she sees the way you cradle Yuuji in your arms, smoothing your hand along his back.

"Bring it here," you instruct her, and she does as you say. She sets the steaming basin before you, and the cloths just at its side.

You shift Yuuji in your arms.

"He needs the steam to help clear his lungs and break his fever," you tell her carefully leaning the sleeping child face-first above the basin. "Place a cool cloth to the back of his neck, and drape another overtop to trap in the vapours."

Miwa doesn't argue, quickly doing as she's told.

After some time passes, you remove the cloths and shift Yuuji towards the window, his head cradled in the crook of your arm like a babe.

"He needs the dry, cool air now," you tell Miwa as she watches you curiously.

"Mistress, you know a great deal on how to treat a fever," she remarks quietly, ringing out another cool cloth in case it's needed.

You hum, eyes glued to Yuuji's sleeping face. He's breathing a little easier now, his skin a bit less sallow. You dip your finger in the cool clean water and dab it lightly upon his lips to moisten them.

"I have three little brothers," you tell her quietly.

"Really?" she gasps in surprise. "I had no idea!"

Of course she didn't. No one in this land knows anything about you. At least not anything true. They know only what hateful rumours have been circulated through the court, and nothing of your person nor your character.

"Do you have any siblings, Miwa?" you ask her in turn.

"Two older sisters, Mistress," she replies.

"And are they too employed by the royal household?"

"They work at a teahouse just outside the palace, the nicest one in the city!" she says proudly. "They have many noble customers who they attend to."

You smile a little, though it's feeble. You know the kind of teahouses, and the kind of customers, she speaks of. You also know just what attending to them means.

"They must be proud to see their little sister working at the palace," you remark.

She huffs a little. "They still treat me like a child."

You laugh a little, reaching out with the hand not holding Yuuji and ruffling her fringe. "You are a child, Miwa. But there's no harm in that, nor is there any question of your capability in spite of it."

Miwa's cheeks flush pink and she looks away shyly, though undeniably pleased.

"In any case," you note, "my older brothers are the same as your sisters, though I'm long grown. I suspect that treatment never changes."

Her eyes go wide. "You have older brothers too?"

"There are six of us in total," you tell her. "The two eldest sons above me, and then three more who are not yet taller than yourself. The youngest is around the Prince's age, in fact."

You stare down at the six year old in your arms. He looks so much like his father, a man you've come to so deeply resent, but you're helpless to the affection you feel for the little boy. You find yourself holding him a little tighter without thinking.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you say to Miwa quietly.

"You've taken excellent care of his majesty," the maid replies. "He looks much improved in such a short time."

You're grateful that you helped care for so many brothers that you have the kinds of skills needed to help in a time like this. Though the muscle memory seems to ache all the same.

"Come," you pick up Yuuji and move to return him to his bed. "The Prince's maids will return soon, shut the window and remove any trace of our having been here. We should depart."

Miwa hastens to erase any lingering evidence of your presence in the Prince's quarters, and you tuck Yuuji carefully back into bed. As you draw his blanket up to his chin, the little boy stirs for the first time. His eyes, bleary and unfocused, search unseeingly as they open. As though too heavy for his weary body to muster the strength to lift, his eyelids flutter closed again soon. His hand, clammy and small, finds yours.

"Mama?" his little voice croaks, though you know he's unaware of what he's said—too far from the periphery of proper consciousness to even remember this moment when he wakes, you're sure.

You place your hand gently on his forehead, over his eyes.

"Sleep, Yuuji," you whisper to him, and his body slackens as he obeys.

You and Miwa depart soundlessly, the beautiful silk tapestry over the servants passage slipping back into place behind you as you take your leave. The way it swings is the only evidence left behind in your wake.

On the other side of the room, cloaked in the shadows away from the soft light of the lamps, a ruby-eyed stare narrows.

The emperor laughs, but there's no mirth in the sound.

#sukuna x reader #jjk writing #jjk drabble #writing #emperor!sukuna

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starzwithapen · 4 months

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⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

#starzwrites #WORKING ON VIVA REQS RNNN ^w^#this was already in our drafts since silver wrote it so Im posting jt rn while i work on Viva stuff yippeee !!!#trolls #trolls x reader #john dory x reader #trolls john dory x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert

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life-is-more-than-just-a-game · 3 months

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♠️ Lustful Glances ♠️

A/N: So, ehm. Actually, this was a request from an anonymous sender, but since Tumblr spun yesterday and the question is no longer there, I have to write it as a normal text now, for better or worse. 😞

I hope the sender reads it anyway and likes the little story! ✨

Characters: Chishiya

POV: fem!reader ; Smut!

Warnings: NSFW, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with sexual content and when you are under 18 years old!

I've known Chishiya long enough to know what he's like. Unlike most people I've met at the Beach, Chishiya is not only a rather quiet and introverted person, but he's also a person who doesn't think twice about drugs, sex and alcohol. He lives his life in a sober state and doesn't have any great lust potential that makes him want to sleep with someone on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. He can be proud of that.

However ... these are sides of his personality that most people are aware of. To be precise, it is no secret. Well, but because of the relationship we have with each other, I have knowledge about him that people around me would define as ... unbelievable.

It's days like these when Chishiya can show a different side of herself. Where he is no longer just the quiet and well-behaved little guy he usually presents himself as. It's hard to believe - but it's true: there are days or moments when even he throws all rationality overboard. Especially at times when his testosterone level tries to play a few tricks on him.

What do I mean by that? I'll tell you.

Imagine the initial situation as follows: I'm just sitting in my room reading one of the books I've discovered in the hotel library. A little more permissive, considering that the temperature is sometimes unbearable. If I had to define "permissive", I'm sitting on the floor in a pair of shorts and a bandeau, leaning against my bed while eating some snacks that Chishiya brought me after a game he finished yesterday.

The man in question came into the room. We spent time talking to each other, as we do very often. We exchanged new experiences or insights in Borderland- the usual. And although nothing happened between us, at some point I noticed Chishiyas eyes on me.

Later, we're laying in bed together. Next to each other. I keep reading my book and pretend not to notice how he keeps his eyes on me while he tries to just rest and relax a little. But when I see him start to look at me for the third time, I can't just leave it at a hidden smirk. And so I close the book and turn my attention to my comrade, who seems to be a little preoccupied at the moment.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?" It is difficult to say whether he meant this question seriously or not.

His words sounded ironic, but his face shows that he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Looking at me ... with those eyes." I smirked at him, sliding down a little and turning on my side to be at eye level with him. "Those eyes I see way too rare, if you'd ask me, Chishiya."

"It was just a gaze", he says, but all I could do was shake my head "no", before sitting up a little again, just to look down on him.

"Stop kidding me", I whisper, "I know how you look at me when you are kind of aroused." It's clear to me. "We know very well that I know that best ..." He gulps.

And with his inability to speak I know I was right with what I'm saying. So I took the chance to lean over him, so that our faces are dangerously close to each others. Yes, I can feel his heavier getting breath against my lips, which makes me smile just a little. Especially when I look into his brown, beautiful eyes, giving me the opportunity to tease him.

"So lustful, babe ..."

"Y/N ..."

"No." I know he wants to deny it. "I saw them. Many times. During conversations. While you were talking to others. In our most intimate moments we share together." We aren't a couple so far- yet we slept so many times with one another. ”The sparkle in your eyes is the same they spread when I kissed your lips so intensely. I saw it when you tried your best to make me as horny as you and the sparkle was there, when you fucked me until my biggest satisfaction ..." While I'm talking, I take the liberty of running a hand over the bulge that has already formed in his pants.

A quiet "Hm~" escapes his lips, his eyes do close in contenment.

”Try to convince me otherwise, love ..."

”No." That's all what he says- for now. ”Please ..."

"Please?"

"Don't ... take your hand away ..." What was that?

Chishiya Shuntaro begs me not to take my hand off his dick? Pathetic. But ... not in a bad way. It ... is arousing ... and I like the fact that it seems to be me who has him - in the truest sense of the word - in my hand today.

"Chishiya ..." Starting to place soft kisses on his neck, I can't help but have to grin which gets wider and wider with every moan he tries to hide from me. „You want me that bad today, huh ...?" Now I peck him a kiss onto the corner of his lips, moving my hand, which rested on his even harder getting cock, making him hissing in pain and desire. "Then you have to tell me ..." Whispering these words in his ear, I'm pretty sure it's giving him goosebumps. ”Tell me how much you want my hand around your cock ... Tell me how much you need me right now and tell me what you want me to do to relief you from suffering ..." Looking him into his eyes while saying all those things, is fun to me.

I love how he just gulps and stares at me completely helpless, not being able to say what I want him to say. And because he isn't saying what I want to hear from him, I grin cheekily, giving him a kind of sadistic "Such a pity ..." and hint at letting go of his aroused member. Nothing he allows. Rather, he's overcome by a "Don't...!" as he grabs my wrist jerkily to stop me from letting go of him. Chishiya even goes so far as to simply guide my hand under his pants so that I have even better access to him. That wasn't what I wanted to achieve, but at least I have him where I want him- he's horny. And wants nothing more than to cum through me.

"Want me to satisfy you, Chichiya ... ?"

"Nobody could better than you, Y/N ...", he says, his words making me kind of happy. "Guess you're not in the mood, b-but I need you ... I ... I need you to make me cum ..." His hips are moving as if he were somehow trying to make himself more comfortable than with a still hand, which only increases the pressure he feels. "I'll do what you want. If you want me to cum all over your face, I will. If you want to swallow my sperm, you can. I'll make a mess out of you but please ... please fuck me with your hands as well as you always do ..."

"Just with my hands?"

"I'd like your cunt more, but- damn!" Guess he wasn't expecting that I gonna start the show.

His head abruptly rests on the back of his neck, just as he had to abruptly interrupt his sentence. Only because I started moving my hand up and down to do him a favor. Still:

”But ...?" I look him into his half closed eyes. "Talk to me Chishiya ..."

"Ngh~ ... but ... fuck ... it's so good ... Y/N ... you make me feel ... so good ..."

"I know ..." I say, "but that's not what you wanted to say."

"I-I ... but ... your hands would be enough for me ..." Chuckles. "A blowjob would be nice, too ..."

"You love it when I suck you out, huh? You enjoy it when you see how my hand getting covered by your sperm and you really do like it, when you see me swallow your whole juice with just one gulp, don't you?" He nods.

"Imagine these situations makes me crazy, Y/N ..." He smiles to me, stretching up a little to indicate that he wants to enjoy a kiss, which of course I give him.

Intensive. Lustful. But above all very passionate. I meaned what I said: we are not a couple yet. But sometimes, making out with him - having sex with him - makes me feel like we are. Our kisses are something magical to me. How he adapts to my rhythm. How he grabs my lower lip with his teeth and starts to gnaw on it playfully. And his tongue ... He can work well with it. He do know so well how he has to use it, no matter what.

And so do I know how skilled I am with just my hands. Stroking him up and down, faster and slower, harder and softer- it mades him moan so amazing, it's music to my ears.

"C-Coming ...", he says and breaks away from the lovely kiss we shared.

A loud groan comes over him while I bumped his shaft, sucking and biting his sensitive skin on his neck, to place some hickeys here and there, after which it only takes a few more movements to ensure that my working hand is flooded with warm secretions. Not gonna lie, felling this makes me kind of proud- it's just:

"We have just started, love." His eyes are half-closed as I say these words. "Pull down your pants, darling, I've got something nice planned for you ..." He can try to hide his satisfied grin, while I was licking my hand clean, but he won't be able to.

And although he is still a little out of breath, as is the case when you have just reached your climax, he obeys. Making myself prepared for what is coming now, I lean over him once again, to kiss his lips passionately. To place kisses everywhere where I'm able to. The corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his ears, neck, shoulder, chest, abdomen ... until I finally reached the point I made my goal. Glancing up to him as innocent as I am lol, you are not I kiss along his lower abdomen, placing some hickeys there, too, further along his cock, at the height of his groin. I can feel how he's moving his pelvis, trying to lead me in the correct direction, but that's not working on me.

"Patience, love ...", I whisper up to him, noticing his left hand on the back of my head, burying his fingers into my mane. "It's interesting to see how easy it is to get you hard again ..."

"Don't say such things ..."

"Why not?", I ask, grinning in a little mean way. "Feeling ashamed because of that? Since when? I thought you like to talk about facts ..." His grip on my hair tightens. "So assertive, Chishiya ..."

"Y/N, please ... you ... torture me enough ... please ... seeing you laying in front of my like that with your head almost between my legs, it makes me going insane ..."

"It really does." To tease him a little more, I finally licked over his blood filled cock with just the tip of my tongue, making him hiss another time. "You really want me to suck your dick out, huh? Would that make you happy, Chishiya ...?" He gulps, trying to find his voice back.

"I-It would ..."

"Sure it would", I said calmly, smiling up to him. "You better enjoy this then, honey ... and don't you dare moving your hips yourself or my head, making me suck you as deep as you want- you know what that means, otherwise, so be a good guy~." With that I start taking his dick as deep with my mouth as I could.

He gives me a loud "F-Fuck ...!" but I don't care about it. I concentrate on the essentials. On his satisfaction. However, I can't deny that I'm not getting horny myself from what we're doing here, which is why I occasionally let out a little moan myself. Good for him, I guess. The vibrations that arise for him must bring a certain something with them. At least, he seems to enjoy it.

This is made clear to me by his increasingly loud tones, which leave his lips uncontrollably. Every time I let his cock enter my mouth - where I lick my tongue over his tip, which is covered by his precum - his pleasant voice comes into play.

"Y/N, I-I'm ..." In my head I already say the sentence: do it.

Come inside me. But I can't bring myself to say it. Admittedly, I don't even want to. I don't want to make him wait any longer and deny him his orgasm, so I just keep sucking and bumping my head up and down, until he finally starts shaking a little and starts calling my name, pressing my head a little down by reflex, to inject his seeds as deep as possible into my throat.

And I swallow it. I swallow every drop he is losing or even pressing out of his shaft, until his dick feels finally empty again. I lick and suck him completely clean- and with a satisfied grin, I let go of him with the aim of lying down next to him again while he tries to catch his breath, watching him.

"And?", I ask, "you feeling better now?"

"Stupid question", he says, but laughs while shaking his head and puts his pants back on, before immediately and unexpected rolling a little over me. „Anyways ..." He looks me deep into my eyes, putting his hand onto my naked belly, which now makes me gulp and him smiling a little evil. "Now it's my turn to give you what you deserve ..."

#chishiya smut #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro #alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland smut #chishiya x you #chishiya x reader smut #chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #shuntaro chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #aib x you #aib #nijiro murakami

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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conservationist au already!? you write so fast dang (what are your secrets) (also it's okay if you want to keep them secret) (mostly i am excite for frog)

here she is! frog au! lol [ao3]

to see us blossom (while the green spreads like wings)

only our feet have been here, that i'm aware of. it's wild and remote and beautiful as can be. i just want to be quiet and love it. let it sink in. i'll be leaving the planet, sometime. and i'll miss it.

— dr. bruce means

'dr. silva,' diego bursts into your office, his hair fluffed and messy, 'i found someone for the expedition!'

'did you... run here?'

'yeah, from the lab.' he gulps a breath. 'i got excited.'

it's fucking awesome that diego, your favorite grad student, is coming on this expedition, but it's becoming a huge pain in the ass to plan — you try your hardest not to feel guilty about why, but it is mostly because of you — and is starting to feel more and more impossible by the day. you don't want to get your hopes up: you don't have that much funding, and it's starting to seem a little bit impossible logistically, even with dr. superion's help. but you'll humor him: 'so who are we taking with us?'

he waits a breath, practically bursting at the seams. 'beatrice zhang.'

'the photographer?'

'she's an experienced climber! you follow her on instagram, right?'

you have gratuitously followed beatrice zhang on instagram for the last four years — for her photography, because it is some of the most beautiful and thoughtful you've ever seen, regardless of the subject matter, but also for the occasional photo of herself, surfing or climbing or behind the camera, particularly delightful if it features her arms in a tank — but diego doesn't need to know that part. 'yes, her work is wonderful for lots of conservationist efforts.' diplomatic, you think, mentally patting yourself on the back.

'and she's hot.'

'i didn't say that.'

diego rolls his eyes.

'anyway, how would we even get her to come with us?'

diego grins. 'i emailed her.'

'what?'

he takes out his phone and shows you her instagram, which, indeed, does have an ‘email’ button, which, obviously, you've never paid attention to before. 'she hasn't responded yet, or her team or whatever, i guess, but i only sent it ten minutes ago. and it went to a legit address and hasn't bounced back, so, i just figured, why not?'

even though, last year, you had had a successful time in guyana, finding and recording a few new species, there are a lot of why not's, really: your GA probably shouldn’t be making these choices without consulting you first, but you don’t really care about that so much as your mobility is more limited than ever lately. the weather probably won't hold so who the fuck knows if it'll even be possible to reach to spot at all. and, plus, it's for a frog. one tiny frog, that may or may not exist — (you're sure it does) — in the middle of a jungle on the top of a tepui that's never been climbed. it's... a little crazy, when you think through it now, way crazier than it had seemed when you wrote the grant for funding last year. most people, even world renowned war-turned-wildlife photographers with insane biceps — especially them, probably — aren't interested in a project like this.

'well, the least that will happen is she doesn't respond,' you figure; you don't believe in any religion and life had dealt you quite the shitty hand for a long time, so if there's any balancing it out, maybe this will be a strike in the good column for you. so, 'yeah, you're right. why not?'

it's two days later when your phone vibrates about seven times; you roll over in... some girl's bed? okay, solid night, then, and when you look over at her, she's beautiful and fast asleep. you remember your fifth shot of tequila and vaguely how great riding her dick had been; you find your phone graciously plugged into a charger on the nightstand on your side of the bed, and when you go to the bathroom you see condoms in the small trash can — so, all in all, a success. your back is sore but not terrible and you groan when you see it's only six am, but there's texts from diego and you have a policy not to ignore those, no matter how stupid they occasionally can be.

these are unequivocally not stupid, though, because they start with dr. silva! and then ava!!!!! ava! and devolve into some emojis and then omg oh my god and finally check your email, which is really the only helpful part of that — but they're not stupid because when you do check your email, you see a forwarded message from diego first. it's a cordial reply to the email he had sent to beatrice zhang, from her, it seems, asking politely to be put in touch with the lead biologist on the expedition if possible. which, you remember with the tiniest bit of a happy jolt, is you. you open the newest email, which is, in fact, connecting you and beatrice. she’s already responded, and it’s kind of wild because, from the three short sentences asking if you could set up a video chat to talk more about the expedition or, if she happened to be close to where you were in the world, even meet near your office or lab for coffee, she sounds, well, at least interested. you don't think someone like her — someone who has photographed war, and famine, and wildfires, and, miraculously last year, a snow leopard and her cub — would even respond to something she didn't care at all about.

holy shit, you text diego. you need a cup of coffee, or, like, maybe three cups of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich before you can respond to that email, so you decide to get a move on. plus, it feels unhinged to respond to it from your phone, so you need to go home anyway. you should also maybe definitely shower, you think, as you look at yourself in the mirror: your makeup is a little smudged and your hair is an unrepentant mess. still hot though, you think when you quietly find your clothes and put your bra on, a deep teal that makes your boobs look awesome. thankfully, you were just in high-waisted, loose jeans and a cropped sweater last night, so after you wash your face and get dressed, it's not really giving walk of shame — walk of pride, thank you very much.

you google maps where you are and, thankfully, it's a nice enough morning and a short enough distance that you can walk to your favorite cafe and then to your apartment without having to call an uber. you grab your cane from where you'd left it propped up by the wall near the bed, and then, because you're definitely not an asshole, gently shake your, well, one night stand's shoulder. her eyes are green, and you do remember that much.

'i gotta go do some work, sorry.'

she nods. 'right. doctor.'

well, maybe you're a little bit of an asshole, but it's not your fault that people think you're a very important neurosurgeon or something. you are very important in cataloguing biodiversity, so you just roll with it. 'thanks for a great time.'

she nods with a soft smile, and it's nice to kiss her, gently, goodbye.

'wait, you're meeting with her? here?'

'yes,' you say, mostly annoyed at camila's vaguely unhinged energy. 'she's close by train, so it's better to meet in person.'

'oh my god,' camila says. she's one of your best friends and probably the smartest, most tech-savvy person you know. when you figured out how helpful it would be to have someone operate drones for you on this expedition, you hadn't even bothered to ask anyone else.

'don't you know her?'

'well, sure,' camila confirms. 'i did some drone work for her a few months ago in the bahamas when she was photographing sharks. but, like, she's amazing, ava.'

'well, hopefully she'll say yes.'

'you'll have to charm her.'

'i'm very good at charming hot women.'

camila rolls her eyes.

'i'm also very good at charming people to go find frogs with me.'

she waits for a beat and then relents. 'well, i suppose that's true.'

'come on,' you say, 'help me make a slide deck. i feel like she'd think that's sexy or something.'

'you're ridiculous.'

'it'll work, i'm telling you.'

beatrice zhang in soft wool pants and closed-toed birkenstocks and a crewneck sweater sitting ramrod straight at the decent cafe just off campus near your office is, quite honestly, not a sight you'd ever expected to see, but it is kind of a miracle. or, at least that's what it had felt like, when she had emailed that she was, actually, a few hours away by train and wouldn't mind a day trip to meet in person. you're glad that you wore your best professor outfit today, flared navy slacks that make your ass look divine, and a crisp white button up that you tucked in tight and rolled up at the sleeves, a camel peacoat and expensive loafers that dr. salvius had gotten you when you passed your dissertation two years ago. you usually wear... well, not this — you reserve this for conferences and presentations — but, if looking professional helps beatrice sign onto this project, so be it.

and, well, maybe it's not strictly professional to undo another button as you had walked to the cafe, and, like, you don't actually know if beatrice is gay or not, but you spot her and smile and wave and her eyes get big for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ve got it all wrong: you’re small and young and pretty and, sometimes, people think that disqualifies you from being smart. but then her eyes rake over you and linger, for just a moment, on your chest, so you're probably right. if this helps too, so be it.

you wave and she stands very formally; she clearly recognizes you, which makes you feel a small thrill of satisfaction. 'hey, glad you found it okay.'

'i've had much more difficult locations to navigate before, although the freshman can be a bit scary.'

it's deadpan, so it takes you a split second, but then you laugh and offer your hand. 'i'm dr. silva.' you want to roll your eyes at your title, which you normally feel quite proud of, all of a sudden. 'ava, any pronouns.'

'dr. silva,' she says anyway, and shakes your hand firmly. 'it's a pleasure. i'm beatrice, she/her.'

only after do you sit, a little sprawled, and prop your cane up on the table, does she sit too, and then looks down at the menu. 'do you recommend anything? i haven't had lunch yet.'

'well, if you're like, uh... —' falling prey to diet culture, you think, but you don't know beatrice at all, so — 'wanting a vegetable forward option, their salads and quinoa bowls are okay.'

she wrinkles her nose. you hide a smile in the collar of your coat.

'but their kimchi fried chicken sandwich is my favorite.'

'and the slaw?'

'well, i'm a fries girl.'

she smiles over the top of her menu, just slightly.

'but my friend likes the slaw, and i trust her.'

she nods and sets her menu down, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her hands clasped. a practical smart watch, no wedding band. her full attention is on you and it makes you feel a little breathless.

you're saved from saying something incredibly dumb — you're very, very smart, and you're actually very good at flirting, but beatrice zhang is hot as hell and a certified badass and you also really want her to be, like, your colleague — when your server comes to your table. you both order, and you get the fried chicken sandwich too, even though you already ate lunch an hour ago — diego's always happy to eat your leftovers out of the fridge in the lab anyway.

you're not saved from saying something marginally dumb, though, because beatrice kindly thanks your server and hands over her menu and then looks at you again, fully focused.

'i like your hair,’ you say, instead of, well, anything else. you want to groan and slam your head down into the table, or something, because beatrice's brows knit together and she brings one hand to run through her floppy middle part, short in the back and on the sides, pushing it out of her eyes.

'oh,' she says, softly and definitely confused. 'thank you.'

you're sure you're blushing. 'sorry, i just, like, the last time you posted — you had long hair.'

it's mortifying, the moment you say it, because you can mentally calculate the last time beatrice posted a picture of herself on her instagram, and it was definitely over a year ago.

she also seems to realize this, because her confusion turns to a smug little smile that could probably eat you alive. you'd definitely let it.

'i read about the last species of frog you discovered, when the article came out.'

that was also over a year ago, and you laugh, tension releasing from your shoulders. 'so that’s how you knew what i looked like.’

‘sure.’

to be fair, the article did include a picture of you, muddy and sweaty and overjoyed, holding a tiny frog in the palm of your hand, but, ‘did you google me?’

‘i only take on projects, at this point, that i find interesting.’

‘so you think i’m interesting.’

she raises a brow, a scar that also wasn’t there over a year ago running an inch above it and then straight through, cleanly healed but not faded yet, stopping right on the top of her cheek — thankfully your brain didn't comment on that, even though it's kind of hot too. ‘i think that fact that you've already identified six new species of frog two years into an assistant professorship is interesting.’

'so that's a yes.' you grin. ‘want me to tell you about the project, then?'

she thanks your server when he brings her water and your lemonade of the day, and a coffee, and then leans forward in her seat. ‘yes,' she says. 'i do.’

you tell her about it as coherently as you can: you're sure there's a brand new species of frog — maybe more than one, if you're lucky — on the top of a land mass deep in the forest in guyana. you've secured enough funding to make it happen; bare bones, but still. you have diego and yasmine, your grad students, and michael, another assistant professor in your apartment who's helped you on expeditions before, mostly by carrying a bunch of shit. you've gotten camila — who beatrice is also very excited to work with again — to sign on to do tech work for you. dr. superion and dr. salvius are helping from here.

'so, anyway, i need you to climb the tepui.'

beatrice sits back when you're done, flicks through a few slides on your laptop that you'd handed to her with pictures of the jungle, the cliff face, the budget outlines and logistics and equipment you anticipate you'll need.

'do you know a lot about climbing?'

it's kind — to not assume that you don't; to not expect you to either. you shake your head no.

'i'm an alpinist, for the most part,' she says, 'which means that i climb, well —' she pauses.

'no need to be modest for me.'

she offers a small smile. 'i've climbed eight of the ten tallest mountains in the world.'

hot, you think, but you take a deep breath instead and say, 'that's impressive.' nailed it.

'yes, well.' she blushes. 'thank you. but this kind of climbing is traditional climbing — big wall climbing.'

'oh.' you frown. 'so, you can't do it?'

'i can,' she says, 'and i'd like to. i think i know enough of biology to be marginally helpful, and i can certainly photograph the expedition.'

your heart soars, warming your whole body, and you take a bite of your lukewarm sandwich to hide your smile.

'but i'll need a team. i'm confident that i'll be able to get up the wall, but i'm not experienced enough at this kind of climbing to lead on all of these passes.'

'we might not have the funds to pay much, if you bring on more people.'

she shakes her head. 'i have access to plenty of discretionary funds, so that shouldn't be a problem.'

'that's hot.' well, you tried.

she laughs, thank god. 'i just wanted to make sure that you and your team are okay with me bringing other people on.'

'as long as they aren't, like, shitty, you know. racist, homophobic, ableist. all that stuff.'

she nods, very seriously. 'i can assure you that, while one of my climbing partners is inclined to be an asshole, it's always done with respect toward important identities. she's more annoying than anything. and my other partner is the best person i know.'

'well, other than me, now.'

you can tell beatrice is torn between smiling and rolling her eyes; she does a bit of both. 'and, as far as logistics go, i could easily provide a helicopter to get us in as far as possible. less of a hike.'

it's impossible that beatrice didn't see your cane. 'i have adaptive equipment for myself. i can do the hike.'

but her brows knit together. 'yes, i assumed so: you're leading the expedition. i just meant, for my team at least, the fewer miles we have to bring photography and climbing gear in a jungle, the better. it's heavy, and then we have to do a major climb.'

'oh.' you bite your bottom lip. 'that makes sense. sorry, people suck sometimes.'

'i imagine so.' she looks at you very sincerely. 'i'm sorry.'

you wave her off. 'thanks. it is what it is, though.'

beatrice doesn't try to argue, although you can tell that maybe she wants to. 'anyway, whatever you think will help your team, and whatever will help mine, that falls outside of your grant funds, i can cover.'

'that's — are you sure?'

she nods. 'quite.'

'where did you get these discretionary funds?' you can't help asking.

'a bad man,' she says, leaning forward and whispering dramatically. it makes you laugh.

'ooh, did you kill him? warlord?'

'alas, no. my father, and he's already dead.'

'ah.' you snap your fingers. 'well, if another opportunity comes up, you just let me know. i have tons of lethal neurotoxins in my lab. i'm always down to... you know — murder —' you whisper — 'a billionaire. long haul ethics, you know?'

she nods very solemnly, fighting a smile. 'i'll keep that under advisement.'

you fight the urge to ask her for a drink, and you definitely stare at her mouth a little too long, but then you get it together and offer your hand. 'well, partners?'

she shakes it, hers strong and rough with callouses. the thought sends a little shiver up your spine, but you valiantly ignore it. 'partners.'

beatrice invites you, after a few days of emailing back and forth to create an updated budget and logistics plan, to meet at a climbing gym. it's to meet her other two team members first. before you all get together with your main crew for dinner afterward. she'd given you their names, headshots, and very formal bios, which you had kind of loved: lilith, who, according to beatrice's bio, will be the lead climber. when you google her, you find out that she's, like, a world champion big wall climber, so that bodes well. and then mary, another photographer and world class marksman — I know this isn't particularly relevant, beatrice had included as a footnote, but it is quite impressive — and avid climber too.

you're hopeful about it all, and you're hopeful that tonight maybe she just wants to see you alone, and to have you watch her climb. there's, like, a two percent chance you'll physically be able to climb, really, but that's fine. she'd texted you about it, far less formal than her perfectly punctuated emails, so that's a good sign. and she'd posted a recent picture someone took of her — a candid, petting the trunk of an elephant peacefully — on her instagram too. maybe that was scheduled — beatrice seems like the kind of person who would schedule instagram posts — but a girl can hope, you know? you liked it one hour and fourteen minutes after she posted, from the lab's social media account and not your personal one, so you figure you've handled this all perfectly. you're great, beatrice is a colleague, and you've got this.

you're stressed about what to wear to a climbing gym and then to get dinner afterward, although there's probably a locker room or something, but it's fine. you're hot in anything. (or nothing. not that the night is going to go there.) you settle on tight leggings you wear to the gym and a sports bra, a cropped jacket on over. it's, like, cute and femme, but also practical. you brush on some mascara and put part of your hair into a little bun so it won't fall into your eyes, and you pack a spare change of clothes in a canvas tote — slacks and a nice bra and a t-shirt that hugs your body perfectly along with a pair of platform converse and an army-green overshirt — in case everyone else changes before going to dinner.

you grab your cane and head out the door.

if you fall to your death, it's definitely not going to be because of your back or legs. it's going to be because beatrice is in loose pants that seem comfortable for climbing and a tight racerback tank, and when you walk in, she's hanging by one arm on a short wall, just chilling out there, before she seems to decide what she wants to do. she brings her legs up to find footholds and then she's almost upside down, holding onto the wall with both hands calmly and moving so fluidly — a leg stretching out, her chalked fingers grasping onto a tiny hold. there's a delicate tattoo along her right forearm, all linework, and there are scars all over her left shoulder, running down to her elbow from what you can see: some are jagged and some are clean, neat, like surgical incisions. they don't seem to be limiting her progress at all, because she moves over the outhanging ledge easily and then to the top before just letting go and calmly rolling to her feet after she lands without a sound.

the — very hot — woman, lilith, you know from the headshot, sitting on the floor next to the wall, legs outstretched, leaning back on her palms set flat on the ground behind, and looking impossibly graceful while doing it, groans.

'getting stuck that long on a soft V8? come on, beatrice.'

beatrice, to her credit, just shrugs.

'shoulder?' the other woman asks.

'it's fine,' beatrice says. 'just getting back into the groove of your tiny walls.'

'oh, ha ha.'

'8091 meters will really change your perspective. you should try it sometime.'

'no thanks, i'll stick to my world records, thank you very much.'

they seem like they might physically fight, but then they both start laughing. weird, but you fuck with it.

beatrice turns, her hands on her hips, and, like, whew, god fucking bless, and then waves with a smile when she sees you. she walks over. 'hello ava.'

'hey,' you say, suddenly feeling a little awkward: you have not a single idea what you're doing. 'that was pretty impressive.'

'it was not,' the lilith says.

beatrice heads toward her anyway, and you follow. 'you can ignore her most of the time,' she says. 'dr. silva, this is lilith. lilith, dr. silva.'

'just ava.' you look at beatrice with a raised brow. 'please.'

lilith lazily salutes. 'ava, then. our illustrious leader, i hear. beatrice is making me lead a 1000 foot first ascent for a frog?'

'i'm not making you do anything,' beatrice says, and lilith grumbles like a teenager. it's funny, and you decide that you like her then and there, even if she scares you a little. she scares you a little more when she gracefully gets to her feet. she's tall and imposing, with a sharp face and long hair braided back, more wiry than beatrice's bigger muscles, but — you're sure — just as strong.

she offers her hand, which you shake. 'in my defense,' you say, 'it is a very cool frog. we can even name it after you, if you want.'

this seems to amuse her, because there's a hint of a smile on her face. 'i do like first ascents anyway.'

'see,' you say, 'that's the spirit.'

'ava,' beatrice says, 'no pressure, but i thought you might find it fun to try climbing. only if you'd like.'

'i'm, uh —' you gesture a little clumsily with your cane, the tips of your ears turning red. 'not sure that i can?'

'mary is an adaptive climbing instructor,' beatrice says, gesturing over to the taller wall with ropes connected through pulleys at the top, where a strong Black woman with perfectly neat braids and a dark outfit on is sorting through a few harnesses on the ground. 'but if you'd rather not climb, lilith and i are just finishing up. we can show you a few things we've been practicing in anticipation for the route, and then change and go to dinner.'

beatrice doesn't say either choice with any more or less merit, or worth, or importance: they're choices, and they're yours, and they won't affect how much she trusts you or believes in the expedition. lilith is checking her phone, uninterested at this point, and you decide, as you always have, to try.

'yeah, sure. i have no idea what adaptive climbing is, though.'

beatrice smiles and lilith stays on her phone, texting. 'that's fine. i have no idea about ninety percent of what you study.'

'i find that hard to believe. you're a wildlife photographer.'

she hums, softly touching your elbow and then walking toward mary. 'conservationist photography, sure. but i'm not a biologist.'

you make a note that beatrice doesn't really like wildlife photographer as a job title, although she was polite enough to not outright tell you so. 'well, i'm not a climber, so, quid pro quo?'

'ah, but you will be after tonight,' mary says, standing with a smile and offering her hand. 'dr. silva, right?'

'just ava,' you tell her, endeared by the fact that beatrice had probably been very formally saying dr. silva to her team this entire time. you shake mary's hand as firmly as you can and feel immediately a little more relaxed with the confident, easy way she holds her shoulders, her kind smile, her bright eyes.

'beatrice and i go way back,' she says. 'this project of yours sounds amazing. i was excited when she asked if i wanted in.'

'of course i'd ask,' beatrice says, bumping mary in the shoulder, who rolls her eyes fondly.

'well, beatrice said you were promised an adaptive climbing lesson.'

'if you're still in,' beatrice says, 'mary can show you the ropes.' she laughs at herself. 'literally.'

mary groans, but you're delighted. 'well, don't leave me hanging.'

'no. not another bad pun aficionado. please.'

beatrice grins and you sling an arm over her slightly sweaty and delightfully strong shoulders. she stiffens a little, and mary looks to her for a moment, and you're worried you've overstepped, and fast. but then beatrice relaxes.

you step back and gesture between the two of you happily. 'is this our thing now?'

'if trading terrible puns is wrong, then i don't want to be right.'

mary groans. 'not sure why i agreed to this trip after all.'

'we can name a frog after you, if you want,' you offer.

mary perks up. 'really?'

'yeah,' you say, 'sure. i've already named one after myself and given five others the dumbest, gayest names i could think of.'

'i'm back in, then.'

you laugh. 'well, let's rock and try not to roll.'

mary sighs, but beatrice's muffled laugh into your shoulder is way worth it.

Hi Ava, I'll be in town today to get some equipment squared away. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner if you're free. No shop talk, unless you want

you read and reread the text. you'd gone over shitty — expected, but still shitty — test results from an mri at your neurologist's earlier today, and, even though your team seemed to gel the other night, and all of your logistics are much less daunting now that beatrice has covered some of them financially, you had planned to stay home in your favorite boxers and most comfortable hoodie and wallow with a mediocre bottle of wine and good pizza and great reality tv.

but — hey, that sounds sweet. any places in mind?

beatrice texts back almost immediately. I don't know the area too well. You can pick, if you'd like

like, you're colleagues. you're about to be in one of the most remote parts of the world together in five days, with just a handful of other people, for weeks, maybe longer. you're the leader of the expedition but beatrice is, in important ways, a leader too. she's smart and beautiful and handsome and focused. if it's a date, incredible; if it's not, you still want to know her, you still want to spend time in her gentle warmth.

any food allergies/hatred?

she responds, No, I'm pretty adventurous

still, no clarity, but you set a place and time — one of your favorite tapas restaurants with a great little bar and, if it gets late enough, a good dance floor — and then set about getting ready. you eat a banana and take ibuprofen, which hopefully will help you be able to dance without much pain, and then get as pretty as you deem not desperate for a normal dinner with a colleague to be. which, it's you, so you're still very, very pretty, including one of your very best cleavage tanks. you finish your eyeliner perfectly and blow yourself a little kiss in the mirror. for good luck, or whatever. it's science.

'i got tired of it,' beatrice says. 'war photography is...' she pauses, and shakes her head, like she doesn't quite know what to tell you. you're totally sure she's not telling the truth, not really, but you know not to push, to spook her away. 'i could leave,' she settles on. 'as much as i hate the west, as much as i hate american and european, especially british, foreign policy, and its destruction of the world — i got to take pictures, and leave. at first, i thought it was something important i could do, to record the truth. political inherently, anti-imperialist, without being in politics. but, i was in occupied palestine, and, then, after —' she clears her throat, brings her fingers up to ghost over the scar through her brow — 'after. i couldn't do it. they're wars because of my history — our collective history — but they weren't my wars. they aren’t my wars. i can’t photograph them, at least right now. because i got to leave.'

you're horrified that she might start to cry — which isn't horrifying, not at all, you cry all the time, but you're supposed to be having a nice meal with your colleague and you had asked what you thought was an innocuous question about how she got into her more recent conservationist work, but clearly, not innocuous. you're starting to think, with a kind of clarity you very rarely have about anyone, that nothing about beatrice herself is innocuous. even her collarless button down and loose pants cuffed at the ankles — and the way all of her clothes, ever practical, drape with a tailored casualness on her small, strong frame — her easy hair that’s always actually perfectly trimmed and styled, the pattern of callouses on her hands: everything about her is intentioned. she means what she says. she means what she does. she means who she is.

'i started studying frogs with my mom,' you offer. it's true, and you mean who you are too.

she takes a sip of her water and nods in what you can tell is a quiet relief.

'my family is from manaus. my mom wasn't a scientist or anything, she was a bank teller, but when i was little, we'd go out often. she loved the rainforest, so, you know, i loved the rainforest.'

beatrice smiles gently. 'that sounds beautiful.'

you stare down at a croqueta and tear a small piece of it off, let the old ache fill your chest. 'she died, when i was seven.'

'oh,' beatrice says, 'i —'

'— it was a long time ago,' you say.

'sometimes that doesn't make it hurt any less.'

it's permission, to feel how you need to. most people accept when you tell them that and move on in relief, unwilling or unable to give you the space. but beatrice sits steadily. 'i broke my back, during the car accident we were in; we were visiting spain and, well. i had to relearn to walk. it took a really long time, and the orphanage i grew up in wasn't big on good physical therapy or really any care, so i taught myself what i could outside of school, got into university, got good medical care for the first time, like, ever. and i started studying biology. i went back to the rainforest as soon as i could, as a research assistant, and guyana was ... it's mind-blowing, bea.'

she weighs it all in contemplative silence for a moment, trying to decide what you need; what relief she can give. ‘i can't wait to see. i've always wanted to go.'

it is relief, what you feel, to be so immediately seen and understood. 'well, it's not just anyone i'd want to bring to the rainforest. my mom's favorites were always frogs, so —' you shrug, suddenly a little at a loss.

'so here we are, about to go find another.'

you pop the croqueta into your mouth, feel the dull pain in your chest dissipate when you realize you're close enough to beatrice's face to see her freckles. 'i have spinal stenosis, from the accident. it's progressing pretty fast, even with the best medical team, tech, surgeries, all that.'

she nods, like she understands what you mean without making you have to say it. it's a gift, bigger than she probably knows.

'i really want to find that fucking frog.'

'well,' she says, and lifts her glass, 'to finding our frog.'

'you know, it's bad luck to toast with water.'

she frowns. 'i don't usually drink.'

'you're very... controlled.'

she waits a beat and then grins. 'okay, one beer.'

'fuck yeah!'

'one, ava.'

'mhm. whatever you say, bea.'

'i have to take the train back,' beatrice argues — or, at least, tries to argue, because her eyes drift down to your boobs when you take your sweater off. success.

'you can just stay at my place. i have a mediocre ikea couch.'

'i can't let you sleep on your own couch.'

you laugh. 'oh, you definitely get the couch. i need all the good mattress support i can get before i sleep in a tent for a month.'

she smiles, gently and a little sad, but then the moment passes, a kind of grace. 'fine.'

'really?'

the set of her shoulders is looser but still sure, still so, so certain. 'yes.'

'hell yeah!' she laughs. 'shots?'

beatrice pulls a face but you order lemon drops anyway, mostly because vodka seems neutral and they're a good shot for people who don't drink often, sweet and tangy and fun. beatrice sniffs hers first — bold move, big mistake most of the time — but then nods in approval.

'to our frog,' you say, and she clinks her glass with yours. you touch it to the bartop and she follows suit, and then take it as smoothly as you can. it's an easy drink, so you don't have any problems, and she swallows without too much of a grimace. 'okay?'

'it's not bad,' she says, and your whole body hums, probably because of the two margaritas you had with dinner and this shot now, but also because there are freckles stretching across her cheeks and gold flecks in her brown eyes and if you let yourself look closely a tiny split on her lip, probably from the dry, cool air recently.

you shake yourself out of... whatever that was, and you order two more shots; she takes hers without hesitation this time, laughing when you spill a little down your cheek. she reaches a hand and wipes with her strong hand, tender, over the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, and then clears her throat, takes her hand back quickly, although you want to ask for her to stay. but instead, 'come on, bea,' you say, 'let's dance!'

she only groans in a show of protest for posterity, you're sure, because she's very strong and you're very small and when you tug on her wrists she follows you easily.

you love to dance; you have always loved to dance: what little you remember of your mom is full of green, the rainforest and the wall of your living room. she would push back all the furniture to the edges, just the two of you in a small apartment, where you slept in the same bed and ate fruit from the trees outside. she would put on britney spears and jump around with you; she would put on stevie nicks and hold you in her arms, swaying around. she was full of light, from what you remember, always ready to read to you, in portugese and in english; to help you with your math and your handwriting. she cut your food for you and bought you new shoes when yours wore through the soles. she had been a good mom in the way good moms are: happy to hold your hand, to rub her nose against yours, to let you eat the batter off the spoon. you don't remember much, not before the accident, but it had been easy, and beautiful — the mist and orchids and green, all around.

beatrice is a little stiff until you start jumping around, fully out of time with the music, just to make her laugh. and she does, a smile lighting up her whole face. her body is graceful like this too, like it's always somehow known exactly how to move. you wonder, fleetingly between songs, what she was like as a child, if she was as sure and smart and kind as she is now. someone crowds into her space from behind and then you're not thinking of anything other than the tickle of her hair against your cheek as she presses into you, the lilt of her laugh into your ear, the hard muscles of her shoulders and the soft, small swell of her hips when you bring your palms to rest there. you're drunk and she's beautiful, and you've kissed lots of beautiful people when you've been drunk. but she closes her eyes and sways to the beat and it's like the rest of the world falls away. it's like there's only you and beatrice and the cloud forest, above anything else that has harmed and will harm again. there's her gold skin and scars and tattoos hidden under her shirt, the healed slices down your spine, the air between your bodies: sweaty, sticky with spilled drinks, thumping bass, everyone else in this bar. there's only the two of you, and it's a little like you've been punched in the gut: you're falling in love with her. it's easy, right now, to put a name to it all, when you can look at her jaw without reproach.

she opens her eyes and looks at you, a smile on her face, and leans in your direction. it's easy, to bring your hand to touch where you had been staring, to say, 'bea,' as she laughs into your neck, says, 'this is so fun, thank you.' it's hard to not kiss her, but she's ... extraordinary, and you don't want your first kiss to be in the middle of a mid-at-best dance floor after a few shots. you want it to be somewhere beautiful. somewhere you already know; somewhere you're certain she'll love.

'let's go home,' you say, because you had done another round somewhere between songs and she's slightly unsteady on her feet. she nods into your neck and you take her hand.

you walk back to your apartment with her, one arm looped through hers — 'very gallant,' you'd said when she'd offered, and even in the dim light from the moon and streetlamps you had seen her blush — and your other hand using your cane. she had found it for you, tucked behind where you had been sitting at the bar; she hadn't asked anything about why you didn't use it when you were dancing, or why you need it now. you know so many good people and you organize a lot with some of your other friends who work with the disability center at the university, but there is some kind of a revelation about being seen so wholly.

but maybe you're also just a little drunk, because she sways a bit as you walk and her accent is lilting, tender, her hair messy in her eyes. it's probably as soft as it looks; you had lost your hair tie somewhere between shots two and three and you tuck yours behind your ear. you have so many questions you want to ask her but you hold them in because she looks up at the moon and the stars and it's enough, to be here with her. to know her laugh, now, and the way she has hurt too.

it's enough to just walk.

it hadn't actually taken too much convincing — after you unlocked the door and gave her some choices in pajamas, soft sleep shorts and a big cotton crew her eventual choices, and gotten her a glass of water and a few cheddar crackers — to get her to agree to sleep in your bed with you. perhaps it had been because your couch is ... an unknown number of years old — 'listen, bea, phd students make, like, no money, and it was twenty bucks on craigslist three years go' — or maybe, maybe, it's because she just wants to.

you settle in first, listen to her brush her teeth with a spare toothbrush you'd given her, and wash her face with your facewash — that she had frowned at, accidentally rude but pretty funny and, like, fair, you got it from the drug store on the corner and you're sure she has a whole understated fancy little routine when she's not out in the field — and then wash her hands after going to the bathroom. you love sex, so you sleep with people often. you've had a boyfriend before, that you cared about deeply, so there's some parts of intimacy that are familiar to you, of course. but this, beatrice carefully climbing into bed next to you, with her freckles and her eyelashes and the pink of her lips, is different: you're not going to kiss her, not right now. you're not going to reach out and put your palm on her jaw like you want to, or feel the warm skin of her ribs, the goosebumps that would inevitably rise there if you raked your nails across the ridges. you're not going to because, you know, somewhere elemental in you, that you want to know her, and love her, for a long time. you want to take her to the rainforest.

'where's your favorite place in the world?' you ask instead, whisper it into the dark, the soft outline of her face.

she's turned toward you, her hands tucked carefully under her chin; it makes her look younger. 'tibet. the himalayas.'

'makes sense. you and your big mountains.'

'what's the last mountain you... summited?'

'annapurna. it's the tenth tallest in the world.' she pauses, considering. 'are we playing twenty questions?'

her eyelids are drooping. 'i don't think you're going to be awake for twenty questions.'

she laughs softly. 'i want to ask you one, though.'

'hmm. sure. two to four questions, then.'

'do you... uh, well, okay. do you like women?'

it's so awkward, so out of place for someone so sure, that you have to fight the urge to burst out in laughter. but it's also soft, and nervous, her eyes wide. it makes you feel sixteen again, full of possibility. 'yeah, bea. i'm bi. i love women.'

she nods, tucks her hands even tighter under her chin, lets a big relieved breath out. 'cool.'

'yeah?'

'mhm. i'm a lesbian, if you didn't know.'

you want to say you're the gayest looking person i've ever met but you refrain. for the romance of it all. 'good to know.'

she tries hard to wink and fails miserably. you let yourself, just once, just for a moment, reach out and run your hand through her hair. she leans into your touch, relaxes under it, before you fold yourself back onto your side of the bed. 'you have one more question.'

'so do you.'

'okay. hmm. favorite ice cream flavor?'

she laughs. 'that's what you want to know.'

you nod. 'it's very important information.'

'okay.' she thinks hard about it, genuinely. 'mint chocolate chip?'

'that's so boring, jeez.'

'oh, i'm sorry. simple combinations of dynamic tastes is probably too sophisticated for you to understand.'

'okay, ratatouille.'

she tries, a valiant effort, to not crack a smile, but she eventually does. 'okay, my turn. favorite color?'

you let your eyes fall closed and imagine it all, the sharp thorns and the torrential rain and the chirp of the neon blue frog you'd found last time. you think about taking her there. 'green, of course,' you tell her, a promise, a future in the clouds. 'green.'

#conservationist au #conservationist au 🐸#ft butch bea but we gotta have different tags lol but she's here #just ch1 but ch2 is the expedition!#avatrice #avatrice fic #wn #wn fic #frog au #i guess bc y’all love that lol

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is-the-owl-video-cute · 3 months

Note

To be more clear about the situation, as far as I can tell most of the trans women who received that copypasta are very outspoken about transmisogyny, so it's not so weird to see that they would find something more or less saying "I'm diagnosing you with being a radfem, the only cure is me fucking you" to be an act of transmisogyny (the same way if a cis guy told a cis woman "shut up about feminism and let's fuck" it would be seen as... Well definitely not very progressive).

That being said you weren't privy to any of that so it's silly that they keep acting like the way you reacted to a stupid ask targeted at YOU (and only you as far as you were aware) is evidence of bigotry.

If I don’t follow every trans woman and like all of her posts and read them thrice before bedtime I am transmisogyny incarnate.

Joking of course but on a serious note this handful of people acting as though they speak for every trans woman on the planet? Weird behavior. Especially when using it to not only assume but insist they know my gender based on arbitrary characteristics of what they saw me type on my blog.

I’m going to be fully honest here, I do think the person spreading the copypasta is one of their own clique trying to legitimize a lot of what they assert about TME people as a whole, trans men in particular. I’ve seen plenty of other groups do the same before, not that unrealistic to say it’s what happened here. Especially considering the over the top response to it that I can’t recall ever seeing for any other obvious copypasta trolling before.

Not that I can prove any of that of course. I will say though as a generalized piece of advice to anyone who gets weird messages like that: the only way to win with a troll is to troll. If you respond to them in any way that takes their bait seriously, you’re giving them what they want. They want to hurt and upset you. They want to make you look foolish in a big grandiose and angry response they can show their friends and laugh about. They like having that power over a stranger’s emotions because they really don’t have much else going on.

So you can either ignore their bait and move on so they spend days refreshing your blog and fuming that you aren’t rewarding their efforts with a response, or you can “yes, and” them as part of the joke which instead makes them look foolish because it turns the joke around on them and shows the person they wanted to mock isn’t fazed by their goading. I tend to prefer the latter because it’s more fun. See an obvious troll ask prescribing me getting sucked silly by a nice tboy or two to “fix” whatever politics I have that they don’t like? Lean into the bit, demand and beg frantically for them to show me how to find these tboys to do just that.

There’s no reason to take anyone who sends you troll bait seriously, so why not have a little fun instead of playing into their hand?

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not-so-lost-after-all · 8 months

Text

She thought she knew what she was doing, that they can make a deal with the devil and win again against all odds. Those spawns deserved some peace. Were too dangerous. Dead for so long. Astarion could have had it all - his pain, weakness, humiliation and guilt wiped away in one moment. Even after he carved the runes into Cazador's flesh, their minds remained connected. So she felt it when it happened a few moments later and it was like some dark cold twisted tenticles spreading through his mind. Then he pushed her out of his head so aggressively her nose started bleeding in the red dim light. It took her a few words with him to realize what a fool she was...

---

He offered to turn her almost right away, to her surprise. After all, what difference does it make after everything she's done for him? She frowned, she's not going to be anyone's puppet.

“But this would be different. I love you, isn't that what you wanted to hear?”

(“Everyone's favorite. I love you.”

“Having fun, aren't you?”)

She sighed and took a few steps to kiss him. Astarion started caressing the back of her neck, practiced touches as she's fully aware but she lets him. Then the grasp around her throat tightens a bit and he punctures her lower lip with one fang. She suddenly felt especially dirty and pushed him away. There's an icy numbness around her chest now because yes, this felt exactly as wrong as she expected.

“Isn't it a little late to be peevish, pet?” he chuckled.

---

There weren't many times they spoke to each other but many times it came down to her decission to remain “pathetic”, “human” or “unpolished”. He insisted on her being his spawn, she admited to herself resignedly.

He told her once that he should have turned her in her sleep, that would teach her a lesson. He noticed her widened eyes and drank the pain. Then she returned fire with fire. That night she cried in her bed for the first time in a decade, she didn't even know if it's more out of self pity or a gnawing guilt over what she's done to him.

---

“There's no use in us fighting any longer.” He said that with more frustration than sadness. Her temples throbed, slowly processing what he's saying. “It is for the best.”

“I suppose you can say so when I've done terrible things for you with nothing to show for it,” she couldn't resist but her tone was still as calm as she could manage.

That awful chuckle of his again. “The man of your dreams, the hope of him, is your own worst enemy. The greatest crimes in this world are commited for love,” he almost vomited the last word.

No, that's not it but he never understood that's not what she wanted and she failed to really show him.

(“I can't be what you want to see in me.”

“You already are what I want to see in you.”)

He waved his hand like a magician which she would find amusing any other time. “I know how to play with it and I can't resist playing the hand I know.”

She was stunned for a moment - gods, she knew so well he has sharp tongue but even for him, this was a low blow. It was pointless to tell him she'd go back in time if she could but she sure as hell won't give him another satisfaction.

“Well then,” she cracked a smile, “I hope you'll be happy in your twisted way. Don't think of me when you sink your teeth into someone else's neck.”

“Thank you for everything, darling, and don't think of me when you scratch someone else's back.”

(“Stop it, you don't have to say such things,” she started a bit haughtily but quickly mellowed down. “I already said I'm going to help you. And I know I'm far from being your usual first choice. It's allright, I've never been anyone's first choice.”)

---

She was already drunk from four cups of wine when Karlach joined her at the table at the inn.

“One more cup with me and then we'll call it a night, what do you say?”

She grinned at the tiefling and sighed grumpily. “I suppose the last weeks took a toll on me, that's all. Your glorious leader,” she pointed out bitterly, “will be good to go in the morning.”

“Bullshit. Of course it's him. We can leave without him if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, I can deal with him and we need all the help we can gather. He's going to help, even if for his own gain.”

“Then you're stronger than I would be,” Karlach murmured.

“Not really but for now... lets pretend it doesn't hurt at all.”

She emptied the fifth cup to be sure she will blissfully forget what she lost and what she's done, even for the night.

#astarion #astarion x tav #gods help me im on pain train again #my writing

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wheelerpilled · 3 months

Text

Reminder that if you're pro-israel block me. Dni. Or even if you are remaining neutral!!!!!! 🇵🇸

There is a genocide still ongoing! Read this post before interacting with my page as it's important.

__________________________________________

And no. By supporting Palestine I don't mean supporting Hamas.

I mean supporting the civilians who have been bombed, killed, and displaced by Israeli attacks. The innocents who are being slaughtered. Those who are the victims in this horrific genocide.

___________________________________________

Block me if you remain neutral. I just can't fathom how anyone can remain on the fence after hearing about the one-sided onslaught in Gaza. Stand with Palestine or stay away from my page as you are not welcomed here. Please, if you don't know alot about the situation that well- ATTEMPT to educate yourself! It is not an excuse to remain neutral due to not knowing the extent of the situation. The resources are readily available.

Sorry if this sounds blunt, my intentions are just in support of spreading awareness for Palestine.

_____________________________________________

here is a link to a useful masterpost of ways you can educate yourself about Palestine and support them.

Please take a look.

While most of us sit privileged and comfortable there is a GENOCIDE ONGOING. This is not meant to be rude or come across as aggressive. it is just a fact. Alot of people (including myself) will probably (and hopefully) never have to firsthand experience such horrors that Palestinians are going through. the fact that innocent people, including innocent CHILDREN AND INFANTS are suffering in such unimaginable ways is vile. it's heartbreaking how cruel the situation is.

I am forever grateful that I am not in such a horrible situation and it's so important that we never take it for granted, so please, all of us can contribute in some way shape or form, no matter how small it may seem. Every contribution helps. Even if it's supporting in free ways without donating.

_________________________________________

Remember to DO YOUR CLICK EVERYDAY. IT TAKES A SECOND AND IT IS FREE.

-i understand some people can't donate. But there is no reason not to take a moment to CLICK A BUTTON everyday. Everything adds up and helps.

even if you don't, just remember to engage with any pro-palestine posts you come across in your feed. Please, spread awareness no matter how you do it. Educate yourself and others on what's happening in the world and about the conflict if you are able to.

_____________________________________________

Yes I am aware I'm a ST blog, a show of which has Zionist cast members- I would like to make it clear now that I do NOT align myself with such vulgar and cruel views and neither should you!! I have no respect for Brett Gelman, Noah Schnapp or ANY other Zionists. I pirate any content I wish to watch from big streaming sites and I will not be streaming ST5 on Netflix or funding a subscription that will benefit Zionists. I won't shame anyone for doing otherwise but I advise people to look into alternative ways of seeing content... especially content of which could POTENTIALLY fund Zionists!!!

____________________________________________

That's all, thank you- please remember to stand with and support Palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸.

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #gaza strip #gaza genocide #pro palestine #anti zionisim #free palestine 🇵🇸#i stand with palestine 🇵🇸

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epiaphany · 3 months

Text

So there’s a bit of misinformation going around claiming that Taylor Swift is suing a college student for tracking her jet. This is not the whole story. While I’m the first to admit that Taylor Swift deserves to be criticized for multiple things (including her carbon emissions) this isn't necessarily one of them. Here’s what’s actually happening:

Meet Jack Sweeney. He's not a poor, young college student, which is what many media outlets would have you believe. He's an adult, with an estimated net worth of .5-3 billion, and made the 2024 Forbes 30 under 30 - Consumer Technology list. Notice how all headlines say that "Taylor Swift is suing this college student" to make it seem much worse than it is? It just simply fits their narrative better.

He was not (only) trying to make people aware of her carbon emissions, he was posting her real life location to his 80k followers on twitter. Technically, his twitter does say that his trackings have a 24 hour delay. But still, considering Taylor's many instances of stalking, this is understandably scary. Also, this is not only happening to Taylor herself, but to the people around her as well. Like what happened at Jack Antonoff's rehearsal dinner last year. (Not saying that this is Sweeney's fault, just explaining why Taylor's team would want to protect her and her friends from all kinds of stalking.)

It wasn't a lawsuit, it was a cease and desist. You can read the whole thing here. Yes, a cease and desist is typically followed by a lawsuit if ignored by the recipient, but it is still "just" a warning of potential future legal action.

Also, there has to be ways to track her carbon emissions without posting her location to thousands of people. I know that private jet flights are public information, but it is not easily accessible public information, and him posting her flights to his twitter does put her in a lot of extra danger.

Again, I'm not saying that she doesn't deserve criticism, or that her safety is the only motivation her team has for pursuing this. I'm sure they care about her image as well and don't really want the general public to know just how much carbon emissions she is responsible for. I just wish people would use their media literacy skills before spreading rumors.

(sidenote: I'm sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes or if anything I said didn't make sense. I also know that I don't have all the details (feel free to add any information you have). It's late, I've been at work all day, and I have a headache that's killing me, but my stupid adhd brain won't let me focus on anything other than this so I just have to get it out of my system)

#taylor swift #i also havent written anything in english in ages so im a bit rusty

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tom-bones · 17 days

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hiya. sorry to bring this to you, but apparently that's where the discourse is happening.

i'm M, i hate social media and i've known Nosferatu for roughly 15 years now. IRL. and i made a blog/profile/account/whatever it's called because the amount of dumbass propaganda being spread about them is fucking ridiculous.

they are severely traumatized, suicidal, have a terrible view of themself because of mental and emotional abuse they've endured for years. and they have multiple fucking personality disorders without a way to get to a professional because their mom can't afford it and their dad is a neglectful asshole who couldn't keep it in his pants and decided to abandon them at age 4, doing only the bare fucking minimum since. and trying to get out of even that however he can. their parents flicker between loving and self-centered to the point where they can't fucking talk to them without their anxiety spiking up.

we've grown up together. i know and trust them with my life. they were the one fighting my homophobic grandmother when i came out. they've been my anchor for years before my family had to move abroad for unrelated reasons, which only let us get on calls and text. i've seen them at some really serious fucking lows. and they are hitting one of those right now because some assholes never bothered to communicate with them and blamed them for everything wrong that happened to them on this fucking website. and because you idiots never bothered to actually ask or talk to them, choosing to believe said assholes.

calling them manipulative is absolutely ridiculous. i've been on call with them multiple times, trying to talk them out of hurting themself while they were screaming and crying. i've got a text from their mom, in a rare "loving mommy" moment at 2 AM last night about how they tried to fucking skin their forearm to get rid of their ghost tattoo. a tattoo that they were so excited about, it was like seeing them healed for the first few days after they got it. but you claim it's "suicide baiting" because they didn't fucking succeed? because they were fucking stopped?

there was one person Nosferatu ever manipulated. a teacher in their high school, who mentally abused his students. despite being one of the favorite students, they put themself against him and then managed to make it look like he was being overly dramatic, making him leave the students alone until they finished school. they only time they ever manipulated anyone, all to defend their classmates. but you idiots would rather believe jackasses who never bothered to try and reach out? seriously?

they're autistic and poorly socialized. they're social awareness sucks, especially with strangers. what they saw as "bullying" was just friendly banter to Nosferatu. and none of them ever bothered to message them and fucking say they feel off. they need to be called out, yes, but not like this. simply informing them that they sound mean to them would solve the fucking situation. but no, it's easier to make a big exit post and claim they abused them and manipulated the rest of the group (who can think for themselves, btw) because it fits your narrative, doesn't it? you people will jump at any opportunity to bully someone, and then when they manage to get pulled back from almost ending it all, you claim they're baiting. and when they try to explain themself, not fucking knowing what exactly they're accused of, you call them a fucking narcissist? for a completely reasonable reaction?

and you know what they did after they found out why you all suddenly started spamming them death threats? reached out to the other group in an attempt to explain the situation. and they did so via discord group chat that i watched through a shared screen, trying to calm them down. and guess what, assholes. they apologized, owned up to everything and explained themself to them. and in return, they got acknowledgement, but nothing else. no apologies for painting them to be this evil mastermind, no clarification, nothing. so i'll throw an accusation of my own and say that they actually wanted Nosferatu to suffer. all because they were too bitchy to communicate, and Nosferatu wasn't. they reached out to them, because suddenly after months of not interacting, suddenly people were accusing them of being abusive and making people quit.

i'll throw in another accusation, actually. in the group chat, they claimed they're not quitting because of Nosferatu, but rather the backlash they were getting from anons. but they failed to mention that in the post, just to make sure Nosferatu ended up looking like a monster who ruined everything for them. they wanted you to hate Nosferatu, all because they got the wrong impression and never bothered with talking to them.

Nosferatu is absolutely fucking harmless unless they have an actual reason to be an asshole. they act terrible to people who hurt their friends, such as when you idiot anons starting shit with the Sister Rose person. they do so because it's the only defense mechanism that works with their family and their own abusers. they do it whenever they break down mentally. they push people away. they act terrible to make sure nobody can hurt them at their moment of weakness.

they had to turn off the ask function completely. they had to back out of roleplay. they're scared of talking to anyone because there's a risk you fucking idiots will go out of your way to abuse the person they spoke to or you'll start spreading more lies like you did here. i'm not going to tolerate shit like this about the person who already struggles with their mental state and emotions and who is only finally getting the help they need because they earn their own money through a summer job. that they have to work for 12 hours a day.

go fuck yourselves, all of you. you lead to Nosferatu almost ruining all their relationships out of fear. you made them want to skin themself, and if it wasn't for their mother, they'd be in the hospital because of all of you now. if not dead. you've ruined a hobby, a passion and a fandom they loved so dearly. you made them despise their special interest, because you've made them feel unwelcome. and why? because the people you've been fighting for decided to manipulate you and make Nosferatu look fucking evil.

funny how you all defend actually manipulative people by calling someone who barely interacted with them a manipulative narcissist. if you ever actually spoke to them, you'd know they're not a monster you all seem to want them to be. they're scared. defensive. because they're getting a bunch of fucking accusations out of nowhere, with everyone expecting them to know what happened when they have no fucking clue.

fortunately, i'm gonna be able to come to visit them relatively soon and you bet your sorry asses i will get them to roleplay again. because it made them happy. they would go on about new storylines and how excited they were. i'm not gonna let you take my friend's happiness away like this again, all because you clearly don't have functioning brains and can't think for yourselves.

you're all abusers. you're all bullies. and the fact that you just believed those people without using your abilities of critical thinking is fucking unbelievable. people like you are why i avoid social media. a bunch of brainless assholes, jumping at an opportunity to be pieces of shit to people just because.

PS: learn how to tell apart a fucking character from a real person. they literally stopped using a name and assigned it to their roleplay character just to avoid confusion, and yet you morons still can't tell it apart.

// please read with caution. i won’t add much commentary, but i feel this post is very important to share so people, especially the anon haters, can get a clearer picture of what’s been happening in both nosferatu’s life and the rp community in the ghost fandom. tobias would be appalled by all this. the people who sent nosferatu death threats should be ashamed. you guys claim she’s evil when in reality you guys are acting like fucking jerks toward them. anyways, this post explains itself pretty well. the anon haters need to get a fucking life.

#ooc #tom bones #repugnant #repugnant band #asks

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ghostofacrow · 4 months

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Crow plays Gubat Banwa part 3: Together

I originally wanted to write the next post right away, but the reason I haven't is that I actually got to play with other people for a bit. My regular tabletop groups all got cancelled over the holidays, so I spend the days around new years introducing some of them to Gubat Banwa by putting them into the fucked up meatgrinder fight from my last post. Originally I just wanted to explain the rules while we had some more free time then usually, but we had so much fun we've since started the Sword Devil module - which I'm not going to talk about as much on here because it involves other people and spoilers for the intro module.

I was curious how the same battle was going to play out with a normal 1 gm 3 players setup and a different party composition (Murderglave, Heavenspear and Bladeweaver) and they did way better then I did, despite me controlling the enemies normally. The thunderbolts did really matter and the Murderglave in particular did surprisingly well while being outnumbered, but they still got saved by me forgetting about some of the demon mechanics. Also the 1.6 Patch 1 Update happened inbetween the tutorial battle and us starting the Sword Devil game.

We're trying to play the Sword Devil gmless, which is a bit awkward and weird because we're still following the book, so there is some weird suboptimal friction where we are still following a guided scenario, but we're all aware of all the hidden information at all times because we're reading through the book together, but it's been a fun experience regardless. I'm reusing Haraw for the game, and despite her being meant for a different game originally and none of us coordinating our characters at all, rolling for complications for our group led to us coming up with a whole previous adventure our characters went on together.

Similarly, coming up with the battle maps together led to a great feedback loop of "yes and"ing ideas that I don't usually see in tactics games. On the combat side of things, the update cut everyone's POS in half, so we were really surprised by how quickly the fight ended, our Murderglave and my Flower Balyan both got screwed by the fight only lasting for 2 resounds, even after we spend gaba to add more enemies. Because the Murderglave had to spend most of their first riff crossing a river and I couldn't play off my poison spreading and fields as much as I'd like. Weird opposite problem to what the first fight had, but I'm sure we can figure out how to balance the encounters over time.

But that's enough about what I've been up to, let's see how our Kadungganan are doing since I left them. I'll write the following scene in prose, if there's square brackets in the text, that means I did a Divination roll, the format is [Character Skill Result]. I'm leaning into the random elements more then I usually do here since I don't have anyone else to play off of, but I'll keep the mechanics discussion aside from noting the rolls out of the text.

The blood on Dranreb's hands was drying, clumping his fur together in dark, uncomfortable spikes. The river was right there and it would be do easy to wash it off, but the thought of leaving the shadow of the tree and wading into the water or turning his back to the forest made his skin crawl after what they just went through. He looked at the stranger lying before him. He had barely managed to still their bleeding after they had passed out, but they were still unconscious.

The leaves above him rustled as the other stranger shifted their position. They had climbed up into the tree when the demons attacked and had stayed up there since, and didn't respond to any of his questions. When Dranreb introduced himself and asked the stranger for their name in kind, they had stared down at him in silence before answering "You don't need to know.", and that had been the extend of their conversation. Sometimes he could hear whispers coming from the treetop, but he had soon realized that they weren't meant for him, but the stranger's gun. [Nasirakna Observation Even Succcess]

It had gotten dark before he could figure out a way to transport the unconscious Kawayanon, and Dranreb was about to drift off to sleep, when a gunshot woke him right back up, a jarring, violent intrusion between the sounds of the nighttime forest. "What are you doing?", he hissed up the tree. "Another demon.", the stranger simply replied, their voice flat like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Their eyes were fixed on something in the distance that Dranreb couldn't see from the ground. "I scared it off.", they concluded.

"We need to do something about them, we can't just let them run around the forest like this.", Dranreb said out loud, not expecting an answer.

A choked laugh came out of the tree. "And what are you going to do? You saw what happened when we tried to fight them."

"Yes, we won."

"Look at them." They pointed the butt of their weapon at the bleeding Kawayanon. "They're dying, I wouldn't consider that a victory."

"You don't know that.", he said, but still stopped to check their breath. Still stable. "Where do the demons even come from? There's so many of them suddenly."

"I have some ideas.", the witch answered. Dranreb stayed quiet, waiting for them to explain their ideas, but the follow-up never came.

The ensuing silence bothered him, as unpleasant as the conversation was, it at least kept his mind occupied. So he started talking again. "I still need to bring them to safety so they can heal."

"You mean die in peace."

"Stop it!", he yelled this time. "I don't care what you think, I'm not giving up this easily."

They discussed plans for a while. The path to the coast and Alimpulos wasn't that far, but they couldn't swim through the river with an unconscious, bleeding body, and the forest was more dangerous then usually. There was the Virbanwan battalion was camped out somewhere closer, but he wasn't keen on returning there, and the witch seemed even more put off by the idea. The witch scoffed when he suggested following the river to the next crossing downstream, where it fanned out and became flat enough to wade through. "You can leave if saving someone's life bothers you so much."

The witch took a moment to answer. "I'd like to pretend otherwise, but sticking together does make it easier to get to Alimpulos alive." Dranreb didn't notice that he drifted off to sleep until he found himself in bright sunlight, with a gun barrel poking into his side. "Wake up.", the witch said, standing before him. He scrambled to his feet.

[Haraw Toughness Even Failure]

The stranger was still unconscious, but their bandages hadn't bled through, a good sign that there injuries were less bad then they had seemed at night. Now he had to find a way to carry them. "I can't count on your help here, can I?", he asked the witch while lifting the body over his shoulder. "Listen.", the witch answered, "I accept that I can't prevent you from dragging dead weight around, but at least one of us should keep their eyes open and their hands on their weapon."

This was a good point, which made him more frustrated, but the Kawayanon, in their haze, at least managed to meekly grab onto him, and after he tried and failed to grab his spear and shield while holding onto them, the witch wordlessly picked up his gear. As they started walking, they'd occasionally mumble something that he couldn't understand. The Kawayanon was short of stature, but so was Dranreb, which made them difficult to carry, but he quickly found that he hated stopping more. The witch walked ahead of him and occasionally signaled him to stop, climbed into another tree and kept her sight on demons he could only sometimes see as dark spots in the distance. When this happened, he carefully placed the Kawayanon on the ground, picked up his weapon, hid between the undergrowth and listened to his breath, waiting for the witch to open fire. But the gunshot he was anticipating never happened. The demons passed them in the distance, his unpleasant companion climbed back down and they carried on.

The river became wider and wider, until the finally reached the crossing. Dranreb steeled himself for wading through the rushing water, but the witch put a hand on his chest and held him back. "Not so fast, look."

Confused, he looked out across the water, and noticed the spots were the waves broke. "Fish? They are large for river fish..." He furrowed his brows, noticing their rattling teeth and the steam clouding the other shore. "Yawa?", he asked.

The witch nodded. "We can't wait to cross the river much longer, unless you're prepared to spend another night out here."

What Dranreb had mistaken for fish from the distance were the demons, jumping and dancing in the waves. The river boiled where it touched their skin, their shapes obscures by the steam, only their cackling laughter reaching the shore.

#crow plays gubat banwa #gubat banwa

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caramelstarlight · 11 months

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“Two Worlds One Heart” 🌸The trip to Liyue🌸

Word Count: 2100+ A/N: I beg of you don’t flop- 🙏🙏🙏❤️❤️❤️❤️

(This implies reader is Female near the end! I'm sorry <3 it just happens more towards females and decided I could use it to spread awareness for that. ❤️❤️ Much love to all genders and pronouns.) Depending if you’re using Tumblr or wattpad, the paragraphs will look small or big. DW! It’ll still have the same amount of words.

Chapter under the cut <3

"Why is Beidou keen on drinking right now?" You asked as you both watched her down a bit of wine. "She can drink a lot as much as she wishes. But to be telling the truth I didn't expect her to do so currently." Kazuha replied before looking back towards the sea. "Anyways, what do you do on these trips Kazuha? I rarely see you off this ship or you're in liyue." You asked curious of the man's ways to past time."Well I usually make poems in my spare time. Sometimes I'm playing the leaf, do you think I should add more ways to deal with time?" He asked, waiting for your input. Facing your direction."Well I-I umm." You said as you thought of a way to phrase what'd you'd try to say towards the Kaedehara. "Let me put it like this. What else do you find Fun that I might find fun? I know we both have a fondness for reading as you make poems while I help publish books."

"Well maybe we can do something that you find interesting." He suggested putting one hand on his hip as he watched your tail swish slowly."Oh! I know. What about Genius-Invokation TCG!" You said using a finger to show you remembered.(Like faruzan is always doing. I swear if you thought of us flipping him off I would never.)"What's Genius-Invokation TCG?" He asked, one hand on his chin as he tried to reminisce about hearing it, to no avail he couldn't."It's a card game! I could teach you how to play. You can borrow one of my decks. I'm sure you heard beidou and the crew talk about it. Right?" You asked.

Your direction of view going towards the captain for a brief moment. She seemed to be dueling someone at the moment. "you see those two? They're both playing it. We can go watch their match real quick and then I can show you how to play. It's super exciting to watch! The tables can turn at any moment!" You said, turning your view back to him. Letting them process what you had told. "I'll admit you do have good taste Y/N, it does look fun and enjoyable from here, seeing the expression of both of them they seem to be enjoying it." The Kaedehara stated considering the offer."Alright I'll watch with you. I admit I'm very curious of new things and this is new." He said as you both went up the stairs watching the duel play out.

*After watching the Duel*

"So Kazuha, do you want to learn about the game? Remember I can give you a deck for you to borrow." You repeated the offer towards him. Assuming he was interested to play. "Well if it's from one of my dearest companions, how could I refuse?" He responded, remembering how much you both used to hangout in both of yours early childhood. (Yes ur besties with Kazuha <3)

"Alright. Which deck do you want to use? I have these 5 I can lend to you for a few days." You said opening your casket of tomes, spreading out each deck with your hands. Hands settling between the ends of the board you placed upon the wood of the ship. Eyeing all of the decks you laid down for him. Wondering which one he would choose.

"Hm... I'll take this deck." He exclaimed, looking at all the cards in the deck he chose, confusion hit him. Why were some character cards moving....? "Hey Y/N what magic do these contain-?" You turned your view back up to him. As you looked through your deck, making sure you chose your signature one. "Oh you're wondering why they can move and talk...?" You stated as you put your character of Yae Miko on the field. "Whatever would you do without me" "Well I had enough tokens to by the Dynamic ones. Which can move and talk. If it makes you uncomfortable I can put the regular ones back?" You offered, thinking the Kaedehara was scared by it. "Oh no it's all good, curiosity was brimming through there. Sorry Y/N." He stated, putting his hand on his chest, signaling he was sorry but curious.

"No problem Kazuha. Anyways, who do you want to use first?" You're said, moving a hand forward to the borrowed deck. Gesturing the boy to choose someone. "I think I'll go with yoimiya first." He stated as you put dice into his hand. You can roll 8 of these dice for your characters. You can reroll once to get more that you need. Kazuha I'm feeling nice and happy right now so... why don't you go first?" You signaled it as his turn as you waited.

"Oh btw Kazuha, try to get elemental dice for all 3 of your characters. You may need to switch to a different character." You stated, watching him roll the dices. Beginners luck you thought... he had 2 Omni and 2 for each of his characters. "That's a good roll Kazuha, you may have Lady Luck on your side to get that." You stated, he thanked you in return, using the dice to buff his yoimiya with a bow card. Having her use her skill.

Now it was your turn, rolling 5 useful dice then rerolled the 3 that couldn't be used. Which gave you one more usable one. I can teach Kazuha about elemental tuning with this. As long as he learns how to play I did good. The thought stayed in your mind, as it should be. "You see these two unusable dice Kazuha?" You stated seeing him nod. "Well there's this thing called 'Elemental Tuning.' Which allows you to destroy a card for one piece or die of your current active character." Letting the card dissolve, a die on the side that was geo became an electro one. "Now I can use my Yae Mikos skill twice." Using the skill she summoned lightning kitsunes. "Show them."

Now it was Kazuhas turn. Watching the male with anticipation he used Yoimiyas normal attack. Yae miko took -3 damage and afflicted with pyro. Meaning they had to be careful if they didn't want to lose their dear sisters card first. Giving Yae a sweet madam healed her, giving her 8hitpoints before she'd become unusable. Yae miko casted her skill once more. Having her burst ready. "You see Kazuha? My energy is full meaning I can use Mikos burst. Yoimiya needs 3 before she can use hers." You stated your character switching to Ayaka. Who infused herself with the Cryo element.

Multiple turns passed before you had your whole team of summons ready. Ayakas burst casted a Cryo swirl. Effectively damaging his Ayato. He played a few cards seemingly used his Ayatos burst as well. He caught on quickly on how to play this game. Switching to your Kokomi, Usimg her burst to heal your team while Ayato became frozen. "Kazuha your Ayato is frozen now. He can't be active on the field till the next round." Prompting him to switch back to yoimiya. You used the next turn to heal your party one more time which put them all above 7. Back to his turn he used his Yoimiyas skill again. Now it was your chance to end your turn.

Finally the round ended with you winning. Your skillful summons and using Yae Mikos burst on his kokomi. "That was a close one, you indeed learned very fast Kazuha, I'm very impressed, it took me 3 matches to get used to the rules." You admitted with a slight hint of shame in your voice. The evidence was your tail and face. Both showing signs of slight gloom. "Hey Y/N I know that look. You're a great friend, infacg I'm honored to call your one of my best friends. You're talented and amazing. Look at you having 2 jobs and caring for everyone." He reassured your worry. Making you happier by what he had just told you. Your tail became more ecstatic, face covered with slight blush. You surely didn't think he thought of you that highly. "You reall-really think so Kazuha?" Your mood changed faster than you changing your forms.

"I truly do. Anyways I can see liyue harbor from here. May I ask why you're traveling to Liyue? I realized I haven't asked you where you may be heading all this time. That match was truly amazing, your a great Mentor Y/N." "Thanks Kazuha! Anyways I'm heading toward Sumeru, I'm planning to enter through the Chasm. Do you want to come with me to the chasm? That's if you want to and have time ofcourse." You offered him, thinking about the route, opening your sketchbook as you had it etched inside. "I unfortunately cannot as I have to stay in Liyue for a few days. But I wish you luck on the journey and that nothing happens to you while you're there." "Same to you. I hope nothing bad happens in liyue, I doubt anything will since y'know. The milileth." You stated showing him some of the sketches within the book. "In the meantime why don't I show you some of my drawings?"

"Kazuha I believe this is both of our stops. I just realized... how am I going to go back to Inazuma...? Unless you and the crux can bring me back next week Monday, I have to find a way." You said realizing that's what you'd forgotten to do earlier. "That's alright Y/N we can come get you next week." "Thanks Kazuha you're the best!" "Don't mention it, consider it a thanks as for you helping me during the clans downfall."

Exiting the ship, taking in Liyues scenery you saw it was the same Bustling and warm streets it always has been. Seeing the scenes play around you have you a sense of comfort. Many of them knew you from your previous visit or fame. You're floating back protected by elector at your side and you were ready to go. For some reason though.. when you made it near the Wanmein restaurant a person tried to hit on you.

"Hey there pretty lady with the ears and tail. Why don't I buy you a drink tonight? You seem to be from afar surely you need a place to stay. You can come with me for the night~" The man said eyeing you. "I'll pass sir. Yuck... you reek of lingering wine... you're drunk and not in the state of mind you should be. Sober." You said with disgust, pinching your nose and tail lowered at the scent. One of the moments you wished you didn't have a higher sense of smell. Chef mao watching it unfold, giving glares towards the drunk man nearby. "Listen man, if you're just trying to get yourself in jail. Just go to the milileth." He said, annoyed with the unknown person.

"But she's a goddess certainly! *hic* she has ears and a tail." He said trying to prove he could act like that with no consequences. "Thanks for the compliment but no thanks. If I have to say it again, you'll be arrested and I'll personally deal with you." You said, walking away but he wouldn't stop. Chef mao went to go alert milileths while you glared at the man. Using your powers to stop him.

"You're crossing the borders!" You said as you used your elemental burst. Effectively striking the man with electro, making him stop in his tracks. Luckily for him. You didn't use all of your power and just a mere fraction. Just enough to stop him and let the milileth deal with it. All 5 of your tails displayed to passerby's before disappearing beside your main one. "Over here milileth! This man wouldn't stop trying to bring me home with him. I used my vision on him only to stop him from touching me!" You said seeing the man still trying to touch you. Staying away from the drunk fool.

The milileth escorted him out and you kept going on your journey. Already almost at their chasm. Once you reached it you could finally rest for a hour or so as it's currently 3pm you can sleep for a little without being disturbed and you can continue your journey after you wake up. You took the chasms scenery into your mind, sketching the area and adding details. Before you fell asleep with the book in your hands.

I can finally go to sumeru and with any luck... someone can help me out. I heard they have forest rangers near the chasm so they should be able to lend a hand... hopefully I'm not menacing to them... oh what if I make a bad impression or they mistake me for Miko with her tricks... No, no Y/N this won't do! You'll be fine. You thought towards yourself as you got back up.

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