@hellsurvivr ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

ㅤㅤ❛❛ can we skip the pointless chatting and do something that isn't on the same level of fun as watching paint dry? you're boring me. ❜❜

@isbrilliant

“am i uh. are you sure i’m uh. qu-qualified?” there is an awkward laugh that comes from him then. sure, forrest is used to being in some amount of danger himself, but it typically doesn’t affect other people. this actually matters.

@eldritchblcst, heather: ❛ did i say you could come? ❜

　　　　the whine that escapes him is downright pitiful, heaving breaths escaping him as he drips from his cage. arms tremble slightly, palms pressed heavily into the mattress. naked on his hands and knees as she sits in front of him far more clothed, clearly the one in control. her fingers laced around the loop in his collar, barely being touched at all being more than enough to push him over the edge. he couldn’t stop himself, but of course she knew that. she’s beyond familiar with how easily he falls apart, has made the most of how quick he is to get riled up. it’s something she’s had plenty of fun with, something that clearly isn’t about to change.

　　　　« i’m sorry, baby. » practically whispered, voice almost lost in the sound of his panting. he knows what role he’s playing, falls into the role with ease. the position he’s in, the collar, the way his tongue hangs out. it flows naturally with her. and they both know his quick finish means very little, the pair constantly playing with denial and overstimulation rolled into one, this will be no different. hands grip the sheets beneath him, whimpering quietly as his head raises to meet heather’s gaze, wordlessly pleading for her to give him more, even if he may not seem like he can take it.

@sndrps ... for mac

"y'want me to lift that?" he's glancing at the box now. it looks heavy. probably full of something for behind the bar, and probably something mac has carried a million times before. but he recognizes this as what it is: a test. and a sign that charlie has been bragging about him. which is sweet.

"how come?" and maybe he should just go with it, but he can't help but poke and prod. just a little.

@quarrei: sender kisses top of receiver’s head.

A YEAR IN CAPTIVITY, entirely on his own aside from the distant sounds of laura in her cell or travis around the station. max had never felt such loneliness in his life, had never become quite so aware of how much the people in his life meant to him until they were taken away. he’d always been a physical guy, spent half his time wrapped up in his dads arms seeking comfort, so to be on his own in a concrete cell for so long, going through the most painful and distressing thing he’d ever experienced, was beyond difficult. getting free hadn’t been easy, and clearly neither had the nights transformations. no one was supposed to be at camp, this was supposed to be safe. he wasn’t supposed to come to with the taste of blood still lingering in his mouth.

he’d cleaned himself up, dug out whatever clothes he could from the duffel bag in the treehouse. it’s not his first choice of outfit, but it’d do. seeing his friends again after so long felt indescribable, the looks of shock and relief on their faces a momentary reprieve from the pain. that is, until he realizes that a couple of faces are missing, can see the way they all hope for their friends to return. his stomach sinks as he thinks about emma, how she’ll never come back because of him, how he has to break the news to everyone. but before he can think it through much his eyes are meeting ryan’s, all the worry in his mind quickly dropping away.

they both move quick, desperate to get to each other as if they’d never get another chance. a few seconds ago ryan probably thought max was dead, so it’s understandable. arms are around ryan in a heartbeat, clinging desperately as his face is buried in ryan’s chest. it doesn’t feel entirely safe, he’s not sure anything will ever truly feel safe again, but it feels better. it feels that little bit closer to normal. he relaxes a little, though he’s sobbing into ryan’s shirt, overwhelmed by everything and just grateful to see him again.

his sobbing only gets louder when he feels the kiss to the top of his head, such a little thing yet it means so much to him. it’s proof that this is real, that ryan’s here, that he’s safer than he’s been in a long time, that he’s cared for. he trembles in ryan’s arms, tightens his grip. he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to communicate it all. he looks up, wide tear-filled eyes meeting ryan’s, but no words come out. he wouldn’t know where to start. so his forehead falls against ryan’s chest again, a breath of relief escaping him as he accepts that he’s finally free, he can finally go home.

@pctrkor,    heather    :    “ you can’t even say that and look me in the eyes. you’re clearly lying. just tell me the truth. ”

　　　　he knows that this is all far too much, that they have to do something to put a stop to his mothers abuse, but its terrifying. the idea of this all coming out, the truth becoming public knowledge, it makes him want to be sick. but this isnt about him. at least, that's what he keeps telling himself. this is about her, she's the one in trouble, she's the one that's on trial. but they - and anyone else paying attention - know without a doubt that kurt is the key to this. it's kurts testimony that will make or break them, his time on the stand determining how their future goes. his parents have been rather intense about their stance — kurt is unwell, incapable of taking care of himself, and manipulated by heather, she had been the violent one, she started all this. his mother has said nothing about his broken arm except that they're lying about it. kurts not sure if she intends to blame it on heather or call it some kind of accident, but neither is something he wants to hear. he already knows anything she says will feel like a punch to the gut, will tear him apart in front of an audience.

　　　　her words make him sigh, face scrunching as his head shakes. he doesn't know how to handle all of this, knows that realistically he has no choice, that he has to protect heather no matter what it did to him. it's just difficult to think about what happens next, knowing that everything has to be aired out — even if he'd spent his entire life so far doing everything possible to stop that from happening. « i just— » he's not annoyed, but he sounds it. just stressed, frustrated. his arm is still in plenty of pain, his mind a messy place as he tries to work out how to say what he feels. « i don't want to.... go on the stand.. i don't— i can't— » he sighs, looking up to meet her eye, only keeping eye contact for a second before looking away again, guilt gnawing at his stomach. he’s well aware that if he backed out it’d be like a death sentence for heather. 

　　　　« i mean, i— i know we don't have a choice, i just— » he chews his lip, practically turns away from her. he goes on the stand and she discovers plenty of horrors that he'd never told her, will without a doubt see a different side of him than she sees now. « there's... you don't know as much as you think you do. » it comes out a little harsher than he intended, but for once an apology doesnt immediately stumble out of his mouth. there's too much going on in his head, he barely even notices his own irritation. within a few days his dirtiest secrets will be shared with the world, the worst things to ever happen to him will be debated over and argued. he's absolutely terrified that if he completely falls apart on the stand that his parents will take him back, that heather will go down for this. he's certain that if he does something wrong he'll ruin her life, and the fear and guilt of that is eating him alive.

@mieczlw    :    pulls   into   a   bear   hug.      “      love   you,   kid.      ”

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐃𝐀𝐃   𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄   has   always   been   his   top   priority,   much   like   miecz’s   priority   had   always   been   keeping   jason   safe.   miecz   had   far   more   opportunity,   the   redhead   naturally   finding   himself   in   dangerous   situations,   but   jason   was   okay   with   that.   while   he   still   felt   weird   accepting   his   father’s   protection,   he   liked   that   he   rarely   if   ever   has   to   do   anything   to   protect   him   back.   but   when   he   does   have   to   protect   miecz,   he   doesn’t   go   easy.   he   doesn’t   remember   much   —   just   the   flames,   the   red   hot   heat,   the   feeling   of   tears   staining   his   cheeks.   he   didn’t   realise   the   ‘tears’   were   actually   blood,   that   he   hadn’t   been   crying,   that   the   overwhelming   nature   of   it   all   had   come   out   a   different   way.   then   it’s   all   hazy.   he   remembers   his   dads   arms,   falling   into   them,   hearing   miecz   talk   but   not   knowing   what   he   was   saying.   and   then   it   all   went   black.

when   he   properly   wakes   up   he’s   at   home,   the   boy   cleaned   up   and   safe,   though   the   air   was   tense.   he’d   woken   up   momentarily   a   few   times,   but   he   had   really   needed   the   rest,   had   slept   for   almost   an   entire   day.   he   jolts   awake,   hands   clutching   to   the   fabric   of   the   couch   beneath   him,   immediately   seeking   out   his   dad.   his   heart   pounds   in   his   chest,   nerves   overwhelming,   familiar   setting   doing   little   to   calm   him   when   his   father’s   state   is   his   top   concern.   but   he’s   quick   to   find   miecz,   even   quicker   to   push   himself   to   his   feet   and   race   in   his   direction.   jason   stops   short,   checks   for   injuries,   wants   to   make   sure   he’s   not   at   risk   of   hurting   miecz   by   touching   him,   but   before   he   gets   a   chance   to   really   look   his   dad   over   he’s   being   pulled   in.   being   held   so   close,   so   tight,   is   already   overwhelming,   but   his   dad’s   words   are   what   hits   him   hardest.   a   small   sob   escapes   him   as   he   grips   tight   to   his   dad,   burying   his   face   in   miecz’s   chest   as   he   thinks   about   just   how   close   he   came   to   losing   him.   grip   only   grows   tighter,   as   if   terrified   that   letting   him   go   would   make   him   disappear.      “      love   you,   dad.      ”

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

and if i said culling game players nobara kugisaki and nanami kento what then

02.

"Wyll is boring" he is the personification of daddy issues. he hides away at a beach TWICE and leaving the tav to go find him because he's not used to having people around who care abt him. he's been running around the sword coast for seven years just killing things and saving people because he got EXILED and chose to prove himself to his father and just help others. he spends his time training kids how to defend themselves. you find out his dad is the ARCHDUKE of Baldur's Gate. he almost drowned once trying to find mermaids. he has a literal devil haunting him that watches his every move. He managed to stop an entire cult of Tiamat AT AGE 17!!!!!!! he loves clowns.

Wyll isn't boring, ppl just haven't taken the time to explore his story and it SHOWS

@americanedpsycho ˖ ࣪ . ��� ♡ ˚ .

ㅤㅤ❛❛ has anyone ever told you that you've got kind of a creepy vibe? because you do. ❜❜

@inspotlight

he has never been a party person, but he is even worse at saying no to people. so when nini asked, the answer was obvious. “are you sure i shouldn’t have like. brought anything.” the last party he had gone to had been a birthday party at age ten. so he’s figuring this all out.

@nickgoodc: ❛ keep your eyes open. ❜ + ❛ mirror. to have sex with my muse in front of a mirror.

nick knows exactly how to drive him wild, knows how to make kurt fall apart at the seams. he’s always read kurt better than anyone else ever could, had always known what every shift in expression meant. that connection had been strong long before their relationship turned into this, kurt can’t remember a time when nick didn’t know him like the back of his hand. it gives nick so much more power over him, makes it so easy for nick to pick him apart and press all the right buttons. like a puppet on a string, kurt will fall into line with whatever nick asks of him. gladly, with no hesitation, the blonde will always follow nick’s lead.

it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, a struggle to actually pay attention to the mirror in front of him. just knowing that the mirror is there is enough of a turn on, actually seeing their reflection only driving him more wild. nick’s voice alone makes him moan, forcing his eyes open, forcing himself to push through the pleasure to do as he’s told. immediately his eyes are on nick’s reflection, on what he’s doing, on every thrust of his hips. fingers dig into the sheets beneath him, mouth hanging open as a string of moans fall from his mouth. every move nick makes pushes him closer to the edge, closer to falling apart. “nick—” gasped out between moans, clearly struggling to keep eye contact. cheeks flush at the intensity that comes with their eyes meeting, always a heavy weight to the way they look at each other. it takes everything he has to focus on what nick wants of him, arms trembling beneath him as his focus shifts from holding himself up to looking into the mirror. one hand leaves the security of the bed, shaking his already weak stability to reach back and hold one of the hands gripping his hips. “harder.”

Me, going through the romance options: Lae'zel is hot, I'll try it out. Ooh, Karlach has a great personality I love her. Shadowheart's got some issues but she's grown on me. Wyll is interesting because I feel like I don't see characters like him that often. Astarion's got plenty of angst, I like it. I'm curious as to how Halsin's bear form would work...ugh how do I choose.

Gale, eating my boots and infodumping about his cat: Do you have a good place where I can die so that I won't murder innocents I'd appreciate it

Me: I want that one

open.

gone with the wind, vanished without a trace. one day at summer camp, the next on the news. max never made it home that day, ripped from his life and thrown into a horror show. hes counted eleven full moons since he first turned, though he knows hes turned more times than that. it’s the unexpected ones, the ones driven by fear, that leave him uncertain of just how much time has passed. he thinks it’s been a while, but he’d never guess a year. some part of him feels like its been longer, but sometimes it feels like just a few months ago that he had the taste of freedom. that taste has come to him again now, escape plan had worked, the monster set free. ending up back at camp hadn’t been entirely intentional, it had just been the only place he’d known how to get to. but the full moon rose and the monster came to the surface, chasing who knows what kind of chaos with his first night out.

now, however, came consequence. with a splattering of blood the sunrise is paired with transformation, naked and trembling boy dropping to the ground where a monster once stood. it takes him a moment to realise the presence of someone else, head raising to see a familiar face. it’s only in this moment that max processes what freedom means, that he can truly go home, can see his dads again. a breath of relief escapes him, though fear still lingers behind the eyes. “hey.” breathed out, as if they’re his saviour, as if this is the concrete proof of being out. he doesn’t truly register their shock at first, doesn’t realise just how long he’s been gone.