#the no energy to do anything but be a slug sucks
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ive tried to fight it but I, sadly, must admit defeat and accept my fate
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*I'm sickly today*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
#jay says stuff#i dislike being sick#the coughing sucks#the sniffling sucks#the no energy to do anything but be a slug sucks#slugs are cute tho so ive got that going for me#sickly sickly slug#catwaaah.jpg
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febuwhump '24: 17. hostage situation + frisky february '24: 07. drugged sex
series: crimson history (the war dog) / rating: explicit
trigger/content warning: dehumanization, it/its pronouns for a person, aphrodisiac drug, explicit sexual content and underage dub-con
The Dog’s body feels too warm, hot in a way It can recognize it’s from arousal.
But the… but the Dog doesn’t get aroused. Sure, Its body reacts to Master’s touches, to her hands knowing where to caress and where to prod to get a reaction out of her toy. It gets warm, It gets wet, and there’s that relief that It know means an orgasm (at least, a weak orgasm that always seem to amuse Master).
This feels a lot more like what the girl feels (willingly or not), and it feels wrong in a way that makes the Dog more uncomfortable with the concept of being arousal for any reason than because, well, the Dog’s aroused. The clothes are too tight, too hot, It wants to rip them apart and find any relief. Just a little touch down there, any relief to clean the fog in Its mind so It can think of how to escape – the Dog knows better than to think Master will come save It when It has been trained in how to escape any possible situation.
A noise catches Its attention, a woman enters the room. The Dog would blush and avert Its eyes if t was supposed to have actual reactions and everything. She’s starkly naked, carrying a small bag on her right hand.
“I heard you’re obedient,” the Dog nods, being compliant usually meant It gets hurt less. “Interesting. I know you can do impressive things.. are you feeling warm?” Another nod. “Don’t worry, it’ll pas soon enough. Feeling slug-ish too, I supposed. It’s a nice cocktail. Mostly a tranquilizer – it’s make a normal girl enter a comatose state, you passed out for not even an hour. And some, what can we call it? Aphrodisiac. Said to work wonders in hybrids like you.”
She steps closer, Dog can smell her sweet scent, hints of arousal, it sends shivers down Its back. The woman doesn’t hesitate in putting her foot against Its crotch, takes all of the Dog’s self-control to not hump on it.
“My friend expected you to be male, you see, she has this kink that involves being bred by a demon spawn. Not even the strongest sex spell can make you fertile in such an unnatural way. Not permanently, at least,” her foot move from Its crotch to Its chest and pushes the Dog down, to lay on Its back again. “Will you bite me if I take off the gag?” It shakes Its head. “Good puppy.”
Don’t call me puppy! Jessica screams in her cage, in the back of the Dog’s mind.
The gag is taken off none too gently, the woman wastes no time in placing a knee on each side of the Dog’s head and lowering herself closer to It’s mouth. The Dog takes a second to know what to do, that’s not a position Master has ever shown it.
“Don’t worry much, this is a fairly normal hostage situation. We’ll hold ya until the Head Magician of that barbaric cloven of yours come to take what’s hers. It’ll be pretty pleasant for your, being a sex demon at all.”
It's not pleasant if you’re going to rape me! Jessica never growls and fights like that when it’s Master doing anything. It’s normal, with her, she sees us as basically her wife but make it yug and obedient. It’s not a random woman. Does she even care that this is not only rape, but rape of a minor? Dog keeps staring up, answers in Its mind. It just a toy. A weapon. Jessica huffs but stays silently.
The woman tastes weird, It thinks, a lot sweeter, a lot gentler, than Master. (Master has decided to change Dog’s diet once their intimate training started, said something about taste, It imagines the woman has a better diet than It – not that It has ever actually tasted Itself.) Master has taught It how to do a respectable job when eating pussy, so the Dog tries Its best. Licking and sucking, the woman moans louder as It pushes Its tongue as deep as It can – definitely deeper than the average human.
There’s energy around them, an alluring energy, pulling It closer and closer to it. The woman smirks, pats Its head (feels too nice, It hates to like it).
“A little half-incubus,” she says. “Come take It, you’re supposed to feed off sexual energy.”
It knows, the urge’s constantly there when Master wants sexual services, but It has been whipped and burned more than enough to know that letting instincts rule Its service, Master will keep punishing It like a bad dog.
But the woman keeps looking at It with understanding eyes.
The ropes snap easily, the woman yelps when the Dog holds her thighs, keeping eating her out, and turns them around. It’s careful enough to not hurt her, reaching with an arm to not let her fall hard on the ground. She’s more than light enough that it can offer support with one hand. She looks surprised, than pleased a the Dog eats her out with vigor, like she’s the best thing that It has ever had.
She might be.
She might just be the first to give the control to the Dog .
(In the cage, Jessica laughs, see’s inherently more animalistic, more dominant, and she definitely enjoys having control in this situation even if she’s stuck back thee.)
Fingers enter the equation, curled. The Dog can feel the drug in Its bloodstream, making It want to get Its own pleasure too. However, the urges are to make Its partner cum first and then maybe have some to Itself. The urges are fine with not getting Its own orgasm at all.
Energy expands and the Dog can feel it burning down the paths were magic turns from and to Its core and the woman convulses in an intense orgasm, it’s more than enough to burn off the rest of the drugs.
But the Dog wouldn’t mid to stay hostage here for a little longer.
#febuwhump 2024#febuwhumpday17#frisky february 2024#dub-con cw#dead dove fic#whump#whump community#whump blog#whumpblr#lady whump#whump writing
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(In)humanity
"You claim to feel pain."
"I do feel pain."
"You also have said numerous times that you don't mind being shot."
"I said I don't think much of it. I'm still gonna try not to. If I could get shot and just feel the pain without taking any physical damage, I would still try to not get shot. It sucks. I just... Don't let getting shot stop me, don't let the idea of it keep me out of places, so on and on. My shields and armor are strong, so it takes a few blasts to get through, most of the time I'm only gonna take some bruises and a little heat. There's this gap between running away and Sunny patching me up and my shields returning, that's when... Oof. Nothing left between me and a lead slug-- can I swear?"
"You may."
"Stop encouraging her!"
"I think to annoy our mutual friend, I may even challenge you to add as much vulgarity as possible."
"Light, noooooo..."
"I would fall real short of expectations, I just say fuck a lot."
"A pity. You will learn."
~
"Hope so! I was talking about getting shot directly-- Fuck that. It's like lava if lava used my hammers! You can feel it ripple through everything! And I'm still too tough to die right, so they have to do it twice, maybe hit my head properly. I hate that shit!"
"The damage to your body as your shields break is different, somehow?"
"It's like being beaten eighty percent of the way to death, and then the last twenty is gone pretty fast? Not that being beaten to death is great or anything, but the alternative is getting shot or burned."
"Have you ever considered attempting long term survival?"
".... Can I make a joke?"
"Please."
"I told you before, I've been alive for a whole week straight."
"Ha!"
"We've joked about it, but it's only jokes. I would get bored. Sunny would, too. Even if we quit fighting, I'd go do stuff that got me killed."
"Hmph! For instance?"
"She's crushed herself with falling debris because she moved the wrong support on multiple occasions."
"That. We've already decided we would try and clean up Earth and lay some global networking, and maybe mark off radiation zones, so on."
"Remind me to tell you why I love that idea later."
"Has there ever been an injury or death traumatic enough to stop you?"
"Probably... Delay. Never stop. Not yet."
"Your voice bears a distinct waver. Is Sunny threatening again?"
"Yes."
"Do not interfere."
"She keeps trying to lie when she feels her humanity being challenged."
"Oh? I wondered why someone practically unstoppable would claim otherwise."
"I... Have no idea what that even means. What?"
"I'll explain later. Stop giving the answers you think you're supposed to give."
"... 'kay. No, I haven't been so wounded that it got me to stop for more than a regroup. I have given up before, but I came back after I found a new weapon or armor piece or mod kit or whatever."
"Are there any particular injuries you can recall?"
"Ummm... You'll have to be more specific, it's all kinda flashes but nothing special."
"Are there sensations associated with healing?"
"It's usually--wait, by Sunny or just Light in general? I can heal with mine."
"Can you?"
".... You know, I was just fine telling you about dying on the field but for some reason, talking about my Light feels awkward?"
"Hm."
"Uh... So, I can heal myself because... Solar energy is generative, and the energy can be used to hasten growth."
"What are you quoting?"
"My roommate. He called Arc traveling and Void destructive, too. Parallels to subatomic shit. He loves these theories."
"Is he correct?"
"I couldn't tell you. It comes naturally. He has to overthink everything. My fire is warm to me and burns the shit out of everything else. I like my fire's heal, but it doesn't relieve pain like Sunny's. It's... warm."
"That's the only word she ever uses."
"I see."
".... I am really really trying here to come up with a way to do the analogy thing... Like my heart's on fire in the best way. Warm like your sleeping bag if you fold it right, like a hot bath on aches. I can feel stuff growing back, kinda, but more like the fire is filling in the gaps until the meat can come back."
"I see."
"Sunny's heals are cool. Ice compress, wading in cold water when it's hot, letting cool air under the blanket. It's. Dry....? Like a med hall?"
"Have you ever been in a medical ward?"
"Not for me, but they smell like nothing and it feels like anything I cut there wouldn't bleed."
"This is inaccurate, but I take what I imagine to be your meaning."
"Yeah. But so, it feels more like it's being cleaned and repaired. Numbed, stabilized, cleaned, and restored is what it feels like."
"Interesting. Do you have a preference?"
"...."
"Don't lie."
".... I wasn't gonna..."
"Stop lying, too."
"... The fire...."
"Why?"
"Dunno. It's warm."
"Hmph!"
~~
Hard Questions
New Angle
Honest
Radio Chat
Scripted Questions
Battlefield
Fear
Enlightening
More like Interrogation
(In)humanity <-
Underlying
Ghost Affection
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How would Ruki react if he and the maid swapped places for a week? Perhaps some Vampire!Jas and Butler!Ruki headcanons?
Vamp!Jas & Butler!Ruki Headcanons
TW: Rukijas, excessive simpery, self-indulgent bullshit.
Unlike her master, Jas doesn’t consider herself the sadistic type at all. Emotionally, perhaps, but never physically. The most she’d do is give a little nibble for fun, but she would just use her vampirism to coerce Ruki into being her butler. As in, “be my butler or have your blood sucked,” though she would say it in a cheerful and excited tone.
Not only does she have no desire to hurt others, but she doesn’t see a reason in doing so, even if her master-turned-butler has threatened her many times. It’s not stemming from altruism, though, it’s more so she absolutely despises seeing Ruki and her loved ones in general suffer.
Now that she is a Vampire, seeing this new Butler variation of Ruki has awakened the simp in her (lmao). The idea of him wearing formal attire and offering her tea is just too adorable to pass up. It doesn’t help that she’s enamored with tea parties and dainty floral-patterned silverware either.
Even in her demonic form, Jas wouldn’t dare to try anything funny on Ruki, knowing full well they will switch back to their regular forms after a week. She figures if she steps out of line even as a Vampire, the first thing he will do after the week is over is kill her for treating him poorly. If she wasn’t absolutely obsessed and in love with him, she would totally use this week to end his life, but this is not that kind of story.
As a Butler, Ruki’s duties consist of surprisingly ordinary and feeble tasks. All she wants is to enjoy a cute tea party with him every day of that week for a total of seven times. Each one will have a different theme to her liking (i.e., the aesthetics of the porcelain, the flavor of tea and scones complementing each other for that day, etc.) and she always requests for Butler Ruki to join her.
To elaborate on the tea party preparations, basically Vampire Jas would request for Ruki to cook all the food and pastries she has a craving for. Chicken salad sandwiches, creamy soup, berried scones and whatnot. Especially scones. She doesn’t care how unhealthy Ruki finds them to be, she wants her scones and she wants them now.
Unfortunately for Vampire Jas, however, tea will not suffice. She needs blood to survive this week as well, much to her disgust. Ironically enough, she doesn’t enjoy the idea of consuming blood given her history of anemia. Especially the idea of deteriorating due to a lack of blood. It reminds her of when she was helpless and felt like she was slowly perishing, unable to muster enough energy for even the most basic of tasks.
As much as possible, she would rather not return to those days of endless slumber and relying on others or slugging along the wall just so she can have enough support to walk to where she needs to be.
With that in mind, she orders Butler Ruki to purchase a shipment of blood that she can drink when the time comes. While this is a very tame way of living as a Vampire, she’d prefer not to go anywhere near others. Hugging already sends uncomfortable chills down her spine, so why would she prey on unsuspecting people when that would require close contact?
Once the shipment of blood arrives, there are days when Jas just drinks it like a normal beverage and other times in which she would prefer to consume it in some rather risqué ways.
After opening the bottle, she would order Butler Ruki to remove his suit until he is wearing only his undergarments. The threat is, if he fails to comply, she will tear off the garments with her fangs herself. Saving himself the embarrassment, he reluctantly agrees.
First, she pours a little of the life essence onto his shoulder, watching it cascade along the indent of skin near his clavicle before sucking it off his flesh, running her tongue along the red stream.
Moving further down his body, Vampire Jas would pour some blood over his abs as well, watching it trickle between the sections of muscle even if he doesn’t have the most built form. The indications are enough to allow a beautiful pattern of red to adorn his stomach, to which she laps up immediately.
⚠️ NSFW BELOW: 18+ ⚠️
As Vampire Jas travels lower down his body, she finally flings Ruki’s underwear off and drizzles the last remnants of blood from the bottle onto his member. He swears he can see her pupils shaping into hearts.
Needless to say, she will begin sucking him off like there’s no tomorrow until there’s more than just blood to swallow.
At the end of the day, however, being a Vampire is just more tedious than anything for Jas, but she finds this week-long dynamic entertaining nonetheless.
“What do you think you’re doing, you idiotic maid? I can assure you once everything reverts to normal, I will punish you unlike ever before. You will wish you never saw a tea cup ever again by the time I’m through with you, much less broken ceramic of any kind as I scrape it along your flesh. Now that’s how you draw blood without your fangs. Shall I demonstrate all the various ways you can do so, starting with the knife? Look forward to it, pet.”
#diabolik lovers#ruki mukami#mukami ruki#ask#rukijas#mchallwrites#ruki and admin shenanigans#(( now i hide 🏃♀️ ))
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Episode 6: Hidden Depths
Wow okay I feel like there it a lot to unpack with this episode from uni to the high plains monster and what this means for ascension to well everything. I’m just gonna start off with how the short begins. So the gang are following Uni just like we left off with the last short and he is little oblivious to everything but he’s having a good time
Look at him he’s just hopping around and helping the gang out not even aware of what’s going on. I absolutely love him so much!! So they get to a tunnel that’s blocked, they unblock it (I know enriching stuff right now) but then Eli wants to see what Uni can do. Trixie isn’t convinced that he can do anything but Eli says he knows Uni special. Which he definitely is
Skipping the high plains monster for second we come to the main event of the shorts which is that Uni turns all of the slugs into babies. And if I can just gush for a second look how cute they all are. They’re just so tiny and I love that they are still in they’re megamorph designs and colors despite being little babies. I’m just so excited to see what baby slugs look like because they have shown them before in the show but never really went into depths. Like I know I won’t get any answers to my big questions about baby slugs but it’s still nice to see them like this instead of that little brown one that was in the original show
Now back to Uni he’s the only one that didn’t get turned into a baby so Eli decides to use him to fight against the high plains monster. What’s interesting is that in the picture you can see that he has a little fire on his chest and considering he transformed into Burpy maybe that’s how he uses their powers.
Maybe the little yellow beam that he shoots causes him to like store the powers in himself which would make him a pretty powerful slug if he can store the powers of multiple slugs. So we know the slugs are suck as babies for how long we don’t know but I’m gonna bet that the way the slugs go back to being adults is that Uni has to release his powers??? Like I’m not entirely sure but if he can call them up on his chest there must be a way to give them back. Maybe with a different colored beam.
Also if Uni was ghouled does that mean all the powers that he has from Eli and Trixie’s slugs are ghouled too? I know he stole the powers of the hop jack’s from episode 4 so can he use their powers now? I mean we have to find out later at some point but now let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the high plains monster
Or Eels as Eli apparently calls them on the slugterra wiki. Not sure why that’s the name he thought of when he seems them but okay Eli go off I guess 😅. Yeah unfortunately I had to look up what the hell this guy was on the wiki because I’m not at the episode it comes by night. I know that’s like it’s debut episode but I don’t really care about spoiling it for myself since I did recognize the monster as soon as it showed up. I just couldn’t remember anything about it so all of this comes from the wiki so bare with me.
So the high plains monster is a beast from the deep caverns which might be confirming my theory that ascension means like coming back up from the deep caverns. It’s the only being from the deep caverns that can pass through the barrier that guards slugterra from the darkbane of the deep caverns. When it does pass through the barrier loses it’s physical form. This means it has to suck up the energy or life source from any living creature like people or slugs. And apparently it’s weakness is light and fire.
I think what strikes me the most here is that it doesn’t have a physical form when it comes into slugterra but it looked like it did in ascension. It tripped Trixie and Burpy bounced off of it when Eli shot at it. Now I’m not sure how it worked in it comes by night but I can assume if it said no physical form it’s kinda like a ghost. So anything that is shot at it would go right through it. So the only way that it could have a physical form is if it sucked up a lot of slug and people energy or, here is the big one, the barrier is open.
I think the barrier being opened is the most likely answer and this would explain why blakk is back why the eel (I can’t with that name it doesn’t even look like an eel 😂) has a physical form. This could be huge for the show because if Blakk can come back then that means Will can come back too. But it also means the darkbane could as well. I don’t know all of this is speculation but if anyone else has any other ideas about this I would love to hear them
#slugterra#slugterra: ascension#half of this was me looking at the slugterra wiki which is quite detailed actually#like it has almost every cavern that was name dropped in the show which is pretty cool#also shout out to who is updating the episodes for slugterra: ascension
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fuck it vent post
im not trigger warning this, read it at your own risk
It's long and I've been spiralling so have fun if ya do read it? Idk man. It's 2 am as I'm editing this to say it's a long ass post. I started writing this at 1 am so that says something I guess.
I fucking hate kids. Like so fucking much. Growing up I wanted kids, I thought I could be a good parent, less fucked up than my parents were.
And I know now that yeah, I could probably be a great dad. I'm great with kids, I have a three year old little sister who adores me, and multiple younger cousins that love me, and multiple of my friends younger siblings love me too.
But I now as an 18 year old hate kids, and I don't think I can love them again.
I don't want to hate kids. I don't want to. I want to be a good person who likes kids and can have kids but I fucking can't anymore.
I've had to watch my little sister so often, and like yeah I know that's a normal part of being an older sibling but I wasn't an older sibling until I was fucking 15.
When my little sister was born I fucking loved her with my whole heart but every day I have to watch her or babysit I grow to hate her a little more. It gets worse when I also have to watch these two other kids who's mom works for my mom.
I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE BABYSITTING THEM MY MOM IS
But every fucking day this week my mom was out and ended up coming home late to watch them so I've been watching them for like an hour every day, and yes an hour isn't a long time but I WAS WATCHING MY LITTLE SISTER FOR HOURS BEFORE THE BOYS COME OVER
AND THEN THE BOYS ARE FUCKING EXCITABLE KIDS (and there's nothing wrong with this but I've been dealing with a very excited three year old for hours at this point so I already don't have the energy for this shit) AND SO THEY'RE RUNNING AROUND AND HURTING EACH OTHER AND NOT FUCKING LISTENING WHEN ANYONE TELLS THEM TO FUCKING STOP
But I'm so good with kids that everyone around me expects me to be a fucking parent when I'm an adult and when I tell the truth and say that no I fucking hate kids and can barely stand being around them for more than thirty minutes I'm treated like a fucking mad man or a monster.
Like not only did I never want to have a biological child because mental health and physical health issues run in my family but now I don't want to have them at all
Do I blame my little sister for this? FUCK NO, if anything I blame my mother.
I used to love kids, I'm fucking great with kids, but I fucking hate kids now, and I wish I didn't but I do. I'm so tired of people treating me like crap for hating kids when they love them, like I'm so sorry my experience with my baby sister and every other child I've met has been terrible and I now see children as little screaming germs that literally can't give a fuck unless it's gonna affect them in any way. I'm sorry I said something that warned you of "kids aren't sunshines and rainbows, they can suck sometimes. Kids are people too and not just little dreamy meat slugs. That baby you're dreaming of having as an adult will grow up."
In short I can't fucking do it anymore. I've been watching kids all week and I'm fucking spiraling because I fucking hate kids now when I used to love them and I haven't been able to do a semblance of basic fucking self care because they sucked out all of my energy and its one am rn and im sobbing about how much kids exhaust me and how much i fucking hate myself.
Sorry adding more because I fucking can
I'm so fucking tired like I can't fucking sleep, if I'm sleeping im not getting there until three am and then I'm waking up at five, and then again at seven but when I wake up at seven there's no fucking hope to get back to sleep
So not only am I watching a bunch of screaming children, I'm watching them while sleep deprived and just praying for a fucking break from all the noise so that I can maybe MAYBE take a nap, because even when my mom does finally get home and take over I'm still exhausted and the walls are still thin and I'm just grasping at the straws of my fucking sanity praying for a chance to fucking rest that isn't talking to my favorite person because while yes talking to him does help a lot I can't fucking rely on one person to hold up my sanity.
I'm exhausted and the only actual break I've been able to scramble for is talking to this one person but that's not enough and I'm tired and I'm so fucking close to cutting again and I don't want to cut again but I know it would give me some sort of relief because it hurts.
It all fucking hurts. I'm tired and drained and I can't do it anymore. I just want it to stop hurting I just want some actual fucking sleep
My only solice is knowing that I'm going to my dad's house because I still do that 50/50 split custody thing Ive grown up always doing, so I won't have to be around any kids until Christmas, and then I go right back to Dad's after. Even if I fucking hate my dad I can at least take a fucking break at his house.
AND TO ADD ON TO THIS I FUCKING HATE CHRISTMAS
THAT'S RIGHT THE GUY WHO LIKE A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR AGO DID A HAPPY LITTLE POST ABOUT A CHRISTMAS TRADITION IN MY FAMILY HATES FUCKING CHRISTMAS
BECAUSE CHRISTMAS MEANS GETTING IN THE CAR AND SEEING A BUNCH OF FAMILY I HATE AND BEING UNCOMFORTABLE AND WATCHING PEOPLE WHO SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED WITHIN A HUNDRED FEET OF ANY SORT OF ALCOHOL GET DRUNK
IT MEANS SEEING MY GRAMMIE WHO SHOWS CLEAR FAVORITISM TO ME WHICH I HATE BECAUSE SHE SEES ME AS A MINI SKINNY VERSION OF HER IT MEANS DEALING WITH MY BROTHER GETING SALTY AND BITCHY BECAUSE GRAMMIE'S FAVORITISM HURTS
IT MEANS BEING AROUND MY STEP DADS FAMILY WHO I MET WHEN I WAS 15 AND ONLY GIVE ME OBLIGATION SHIT
I DONT WANT THE GIFTS I WANT TO BE IGNORED AND I WANT TO GO FUCKING HOME BECAUSE I HATE YOU ALL
Ive tried turning Christmas into this fun positive thing by drawing things to give to my friends because I love them and like I've been using it as a sort of excuse to spoil my friends in any way I can but I fucking hate the holiday, it'll always be a terrible terrible lonely soul crushing holiday for me.
There has never been anything quite as lonely as sitting in a room full of family, that you hate or you're scared of or God forbid fucking both, and knowing that you'll never have that normal loving experience of a happy Christmas.
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Discontent
Monthly, weekly almost, I become discontented or numb. Am I stuck i n some hedonistic cycle? Where I can only be happy about stupid things that don’t matter? When little thing doesn’t work out, or somthing small inconveniences me and I’m a stupid cranky mess. Even if I tell myself “it’s ok this is a small inconvenience” It still takes so long to get over it. Am I so programmed to have instant gratification that when I cant fix my problem immediately I become depressed mess. It’s an instant gratification problem. Real change takes time and being impatient makes the time seem longer when you dont want it to be. QUIT BEING IMPTATIENT!!
HOW DO YOU STOP BEING IMPATIENT? I guess thats my next step. In the past I stop being impatient when I give up. But I dont want to give up on genuine change. I have this stuck feeling again, like when I ws depressed in college. Shit. Am I depressed again? (Yeah I slipped and fell into it) I might be. Probably am. I broke out of it last time by pursuing a major life goal and doing shadow work. In the past I the shadow work over my childhood trauma. Now I have to do the shadow work about who I am, what I want, and the life goals to achieve it. That’s what that book I bought is all about. It’s just feel like this inner slug that hasn’t been there before. Even in the past this slug I could easily shake off. The slug has turned into a leech sucking the energy and drive to do anything. Even to be happy. I want things , but can’t find the drive to pursue them. I am stuck in the rat race with the desire to get out, but no drive to make it happen. Then there are my health issues that could be adding to all of this mental confusion.
Let’s be honest, my health is shit. I eat Ike shit, I need to work out more and regularly. Again, there is desire to change but no energy or motivation to do it. There is almost a strong desire to give up. It’s not really there yet, but it feels like suicide. Giving up on all that is good for me and letting my stupid cravings win. I almost desire laziness and gluttony. There is an addiction to feeling stressed out and like shit. i know I have a weird confusing addiction to feeling Like shit. I DONT WANT IT ANYNMORE!!! I stat to work on it , i feel kinda better then I crash EVERY TIME. I CRASH THE CAR OF DESIRED CHANGE EVERY TIME. THIS IS WHERE I FAIL. I FAIL MYSELF CONSISTENTLY. FUCK THIS FUCK THIS FUK THIS FUCK THIS FUK THIS FUCK THIS FUCK THIS FUCK THIS FFFFUUUUKKKK TTHHIISS. I was afraid of failing other people or so long i now have a strange addiction to failing myself. If I fail myself there is no failure left to inflict onto others.
I cant get into the car of change anymore. I just crash. I dont kow how to drive the car of change, but damnit I’m gonna walk. It will be slow. It will be slow.
Change. Will. Be. Slow. But I cannot give up or be impatient and quit. That is failing myself and the life i feel called to I live. I want this cycle to end an a new cycle to begin. Its time. I need to still give myself the grace to fail/make mistakes AND pick myself up and keep going. Life starts new things and tries to begin change
SOOOOOOO MANY TIMES!!!!!!! It’s at the point where I am exhausted. Maybe thats why I want to give up. I m exhausted from trying so many times. How d I find the encouragement within myself? Do I hve a community that supports me? I think so.
Ok
GOAL: My fist goal towards change is to finish reading my happiness book and alll of the other supplimental work it has with it. It like a college course. Happiness 101 damnit.
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I have this thing called depression which really sucks because whenever I have time to do what I want and the energy to do what I want I have no motivation. So I just sit like a useless slug in my house and do nothing.
But not today - I’m gonna get up and dress in something cute and do my makeup for no reason and write my book and go out and try to do something. Anything. At least I’d like to.
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09/07/2022
i feel bad i'm not writing at this much. probably a good thing though? that i'm too busy (or maybe too depressed) to be cathartic and ruminate on the internet.
things are going okay. my meds have been the same for a while, and they seem to be working, i still feel like i'm mad all the time.
still struggling with just not wanting to do anything. instead of being on autopilot, i'm on manual mode all the time. almost every action requires some kind of thought or intention and it's exhausting. when i come home from work, even though i'm doing better and i'm considerably happier, my instinct is to go straight to bed. i have to consciously decide to brush my teeth, wash my face, do anything good for me before bed. my job is easy and most of the time i'm just sitting down and collecting deodorant, but getting ready to come here feels like a funeral dirge. seeing moises & liv is the only thing i really care about anymore. even doing things i enjoy is a pain. and not even in a depressed way, just a low energy, bleh way. i have interest, just not motivation, i guess?
i should probably stay on top of my adderall prescription, that might help me not be like this at work. some days i'm hypomanic and i feel like a person and i get things done and don't feel like a slug.
my therapist says i'm very self aware, which is true, and i know that. i can usually figure out on my own, or already know, why i act/think/feel the way i do, and work out the root cause eventually. why i keep doing things is what bothers me. no matter how many times i tell myself "not again", it keeps happening, i keep repeating myself. i probably need a hobby. i've been trying to read more, go on walks, do things that are enjoyable, etc. i should probably at least go to the library to read, get out of the house when i'm not at work. yesterday i went to the trail and took a 20 or so minute walk after work, nice enough, a little warm for what i was wearing, though. i should probably do more things like that every day and not sporadically. in re: everything is manual. even when i force something to be a habit, if i break it for one day, it's more effort to get started again. it makes me feel lazy, which i know isn't true, but it still feels like it. lazy and weak and not worth the trouble.
it's supposed to be cool again this morning after work, maybe i'll go for a walk again. listening to a podcast makes it more bearable and not so boring, even if i do like being outside. at least i can get in my 20-30 minutes of exercise every day. work on adding something instead of taking it away, isn't that what you're supposed to do? to make real changes? and i can hatch my pokemon eggs while i walk. i've been trying to add better things to my diet instead of taking away - i've been pretty consistently eating a greek yogurt a day and a protein shake (finally found a good one that isn't super gross), i try to make a smoothie often enough. i've been better about showering/getting clean. i know that being clean will make me feel better, at the very least, so even if it means getting a little less sleep, i should shower. if it costs me 20 minutes in bed but i feel a lot better, it's worth it. trying to do things like that.
getting things done around the house is hard sometimes with spending all weekend with moises and then working at night, but slowly making progress. next thing is probably the master bedroom, have to devise a plan to get the carpets clean, they're too dusty to use my good vacuum. probably going to end up using the air compressor to agitate the dust, use the central vac to suck it up and then get the grimy shit out with the upright. get all of mom's stuff put away, get all the cobwebs off the walls and ceiling, and put sheets on the bed so it doesn't look so depressing. next project might actually be the dining room? not sure yet. dining room is more noticeable, i guess, so maybe that first. i need to post the piano on marketplace, i'll pay someone to take it at this point. first i should probably put away the christmas ornaments, i need to get those special bins, though, where there's an individual space for each one. i'll probably get impatient and just use cardboard ones, though, it's easier. i started working on the halloween ones a week or two ago, and finally got rid of all the cans in the basement. slowly but surely.
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Monster House
Trigger Warnings: Claustrophobia, mentions of self-hatred, self-degrading voice, panic/anxiety attack, mentions of blood and gore.
Summary: after Geralt lashes out at you and leaves you alone in a house, you have an anxiety attack/panic attack.
Word Count: 1,676
Paring: DAD!GeraltXFemaleMinorDAUGHTERReader
Request: Hello! Could you write one where the reader is Geralt's child surprise. Reader is in her teens and gets in trouble. Geralt is pissed and grounds her. Reader cannot leave the house. The reader has developing claustrophobia so no fresh air for a while eventually gets to her. Reader starts to have an anxiety attack but doesn't dare go outside for a quick breath of fresh air. Geralt comes home and tries to calm her down and stuff. Thank youuu!!! 🥺🥺🥺
@theichabbieclub
Thank you for the request, my dear, so sorry for the wait. Hope you like it?
“Geralt! You’re being unreasonable. I didn’t do anything wrong!!” You yelled. Your hair was a mess around your face. Dirt smeared all over with some blood that thankfully didn’t belong to you.
“Did nothing wrong??” Geralt’s face to you, now eye level. He had to bend down to be eye to eye with you. His eyes searched yours. You could see the anger, fear, and concern on his face. Something you had only ever seen, no one else got to see that.
He sighed heavily, his hands rubbing down his tired face. He was attempting to calm himself down, knowing he could sometimes be a bit too harsh with you.
“You deliberately left the house after me. You could’ve gotten killed.”
“-But I didn’t.” He sighed, grabbing your chin in his hand making you look at him.
You did leave the safety of the house, even when he said no. You wanted to come with him. It was only a pack of wolves. Nothing he couldn’t handle and you wanted to help, more than anything. You hated not being able to help him with anything, you could never do anything unless he was by your side. He or Jaskier. It made you feel like a burden.
“You’re right you didn’t. But you could’ve. You’re not to leave this house for three days. You stay in here, read the books Yen gave you. Unless I am by your side you do not step foot past that threshold. Do you understand me?” His voice was deep, stern, mean. You hated it when you got grounded. You sighed deeply, nodding in agreement.
“Good. I’m very disappointed in you Y/N.” He stood again, his back to you. Before you could say anything else he was out the door. You had half a mind to follow him but chose to listen to him. His lingering disappointment still thick in the hot air of the cramped house.
You walked to the corner of the small room, sitting down in the pile of blankets. You grabbed one of the herbal books Yennerfir gave to you and began reading. No matter how many times you reread the same paragraph about mugwort you couldn’t absorb the material. You were getting hotter and hotter, the hot summer sun now at its full peak at noon making the small cabin you were in getting hotter. You grabbed your water canteen and slugged it down. To your disappointment, Geralt had taken his own with him.
“This isn’t a house, it’s a shack. With walls enclosing it around me.” You huffed to yourself. Gathering your hair in your hands you tied it back, hoping it would help. But it did nothing. The room began to feel smaller, tighter. The air getting thicker.
Your mind wandered over Geralt’s words.
“He’s right. I’m such a disappointment. He should’ve left me years ago.” Your hot tears began to stream down your red cheeks. You put your hands on your face, holding it tightly, squeezing it as your eyes shut. You tried to not let these thoughts penetrate your head, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were a burden to Geralt. He constantly had to do things for you. You never did anything for yourself even if you wanted to. No matter how hard you tried you always felt like you were only a burden on him.
Your breathing became ragged and harsh as you cowered into the corner. Your body trembled, the walls around you closing in around you as you watched the floor move up and down like a monster’s mouth.
“If you ever need me; scream my name, I’ll hear you.”
His voice echoed through your head as you moved to the window. You pushed the small glass panel open and sat below it feeling the very soft breeze that came through. Your throat felt like it was closing. Your body shaking more as you cried harder, the thoughts of Geralt not coming back for you.
“GERALT PLEASE COME BACK!!!” Your screams echoed off the walls of the house. Your head in your hands as you cried harder and harder, your throat beginning to hurt.
“Please...please...please...please come back Geralt.” Your head began to get heavy as you laid on the hard floor. The door of the house flew open, but you didn’t have the energy to open your eyes, but you knew it was him. His smell was all too familiar to you. His arms quickly grabbed your limp body pulling you into his chest, his hand quickly grabbed your chin making your face turn to him, your eyes still not opening. You couldn’t.
“Jesus Y/N, your burning up. Did you eat something bad??” His voice was full of panic, it made your heart hurt. All I ever do is cause you pain. Your thoughts were filling your small head, making it harder for you to stop crying.
“The house is eating me.” You crooked out. He quickly lifted you, carrying you quickly out of the house. The fresh air instantly made you take in a breath, your tears subsiding.
You could hear the splash of water as Geralt walked into the river near the cabin. He kneeled into the water, using his hand to cup cold water pouring it over your face.
“Open your mouth.” You did as he asked and drank the cold water from his hand. Your senses slowly started to return, your eyes opened and the bright sun made them burn. You slowly moved them around the running water. You could feel Gerlt’s fingers stroking your hair behind your ears as he completely sat in the water, no regard for his clothes. You locked eyes and gave him a weak smile.
“What happened?” His voice was softer than before, it was deep, comforting. Made you feel safe, even in the unsafe world you lived in.
“I feel like nothing but a burden...you never trust me to do anything on my own. It's like I’m a leach to you…” you couldn’t look at him, closing your eyes feeling the cold water rush into your back.
“You're not a leach, you're my kid. It's my job to protect you.” your eyes snapped back to his own. For years he never referred to you as his kid, or his daughter. At least not out loud. He treated you like his daughter. He was all you ever had when it came to parents, other than Yennefer.
His hand gently combed your hair from your face, sitting you up fully, your legs submerged in the cool rushing water.
“If something happened to you, if you died I wouldn’t be able to live in this world.” The smile that overtook your face made him roll his eyes playfully.
“You love me.” You cooed in a sing-song voice as you pointed your small finger at his face. He grunted, rolling his eyes.
“Of course I do, kid. I didn't have much meaning in life before I found you.” Your smile only grew as the big bad witcher gushed about his kid.
“Could you actually say it?” You asked, lifting your head slightly as he washed the dirt from his arms, you two slowly separating, leaving a foot between your bodies as you sat in the water.
“Say what?”
“That you love me. You've only ever said it once. But I don't think you meant to then.” Geralt eyebrows furrowed together.
“When?”
“A long time ago, you had gotten badly beaten by a group of banshees. Yen found you and brought you back with her. She had no one else to help, so I had to. I was barely eleven yet. It was scary, you were all… bloody, and cold. Your eyes were stuck open- corps like.” Your eyes were looking all over his body, and the earth around you. The story was never easy for you to remember, but you never forgot it.
“I honestly hate that I remember it so much, I remember watching Yen cry as she tried her best to stitch you back up. She just kept begging and pleading with ever god she thought was listening to her. It was horrible.” Geral's hand gently held yours, his finger softly stroking the back of your hand.
“I didn't forget it though. You woke up the next day, and I've never cried harder.” You said with a soft laugh.
“I hugged you, too tight and it hurt you. And I said I was sorry and I was just happy you didn't die. And you asked me why...I didn't know why you asked that stupid question. So I just said because I loved you. And you said it back. But you haven't sense. And honestly, if I'm your kid, you should say it more often. Because only telling me after you die really fucking sucks.” This time he laughed.
“I love you, Y/N. More than any father could ever love his child.” his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you held onto him, a smile ear to ear.
“I love you too, fuck face.” he groaned into your hair as he rested his chin on top of your head.
“I'm like this because of you.” You mumbled and he nodded his head, humming softly.
#geralt x oc#geralt imagine#geralt x reader#getalt of rivia#geralt fanfic#witcher geralt#witcher jaskier#witcher yennefer#dad geralt#geralt dad#geralt x yn#geralt x you#witcher netflix#netflix#witcher oc#witcher 3
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at least i have the memory
character: takami keigo | hawks
genre: smut with the teeniest, tiniest hint of angst
notes: for @babyybitchhh & inspired by a dm they sent me at exactly 3:58 am <333. uhhhh is this set in the i can take you there universe??? quite possibly. do u need to read that monster before reading this??? absolutely not!!! this also isn’t the scumbag!keigo i’ve been working on ehehe i just kindaaaa banged this out last night in a bit of a frenzy, so!! why is it always keigo + touya at a house party lately????? | title credit: thinking bout you by ariana grande lmaoooo
warnings: 18+, noncon, drugging, implied stepcest
words: 3.3k
synopsis:
“Here, let me,” he’s saying as he takes you from Touya, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and supporting most of your weight as you lean against him heavily. “Go,” he nods in the general direction of the voice still hollering for your niichan. “Duty calls,” he pauses, and the two men share a look before Keigo laughs easily. “Don’t worry, I’ll put her to bed,”
You’re snuggled up on Touya’s lap when things begin to feel off. He’s throwing another one of those stupid parties, with too many people you don’t know crowding the main floor of your house, one of those dumb parties that you’re never allowed to invite any of your friends to, where you’re forced to share your niichan for the night with all of these dumb people.
“Dumb,” you whisper, mumbling the word against your step-brother’s neck.
He hums a little, breath hot on your cheek. “What was that, princess?”
Your head rolls from one side of your neck, and then the other, then back again, a weak imitation of shaking your head. A soft, nondescript noise sounds from the back of his throat and you try to raise your head, to look him in the eye, struggling with the simple motion.
Because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to keep your head up anymore, whining a little as it falls forward again, forehead resting against Touya’s shoulder. It’s just so heavy; your neck can barely bear the weight any longer, and with a tremendous amount of effort you’re able to loll it back—too far back—or to the side, yet ultimately incapable of holding it up, of holding it straight and steady.
“Oh, I think the princess is sleepy,” Keigo’s singsong voice floats through the air, tickling your ear and making you wriggle. Touya chuckles, sitting up a little straighter as large hands readjust you in his lap.
“Is it bedtime, baby?”
“No,” you mumble, though you’re fairly sure the word just comes out as a petulant sound.
“I think it is,” Touya continues, ignoring your little noises and standing, letting you drop down his body and placing you on the floor gently. You sway a little, vision fading in and out of focus, and try to shake your head again, the motion sluggish and delayed.
Someone calls Touya’s name and he swears softly under his breath, looking towards the voice and then back at you. Trying to blink up at him, your eyelids simply fall shut, your brow furrowing cutely as you work hard to force them back open.
Something isn’t right.
“Goddamn it,” Touya sighs, oblivious to your struggle and raking a hand through his hair. “Princess, hey, look at me,”
I’m trying to, you want to snap at him, frustration bubbling up in your chest as you finally pry your eyes open again, wincing against the bright light of the living room.
Touya starts saying something, but you can’t focus on it, can barely understand him, his voice sounding muffled and distant as you concentrate on purely keeping your eyes open.
No, something definitely isn’t right, but your hazy brain can’t seem to figure out what it is, barely able to form a fucking sentence now, any word you try to speak coming out garbled and near unintelligible.
Keigo’s reaching for you, and you make grabby hands at him, suddenly craving his heat, an abrupt, insatiable need to be close to him blazing through your veins.
“Here, let me,” he’s saying as he takes you from Touya, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and supporting most of your weight as you lean against him heavily. “Go,” he nods in the general direction of the voice still hollering for your niichan. “Duty calls,” he pauses, and the two men share a look before Keigo laughs easily. “Don’t worry, I’ll put her to bed,”
Cobalt eyes dart between the two of you, sharp and analytical. You’re nuzzling your face into Keigo’s chest—God, he smells so good—and he’s chuckling a little, thumb rubbing little circles into your hip. Touya makes a soft noise; a coo, you think, though you can’t be bothered to look, too enticed with Keigo to expend the immense amount of energy it takes for you to move any part of your body.
“You sure?”
“Yeah man, it’s no big deal. I’ll tuck her in and stay with her until she passes out—I know the way she gets,”
And as if on fucking cue, you whimper, little fingers tangling in his t-shirt as you pull, trying to get closer. Christ, Keigo could kiss you right here and now for unwittingly playing your part so goddamn well, for fortifying—validating—his plan that much more.
“Poor thing,” he looks down at you, trying to force the shit-eating grin off his face. “She’s exhausted, can barely even stand—Really, I should get her to bed,”
Touya’s teeth nibble at the inner skin of his lip, cerulean eyes studying your face carefully, half hidden in Keigo’s chest, before he finally sighs, shoulders deflating a little.
“Yeah, alright. Thanks, Kei,”
“Don’t mention it,” he responds lightly, waving a hand dismissively. He glances back down at you, golden eyes glittering, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright kitty kat, let’s get you to sleep,”
M’not tired, you try to tell him as he scoops you up into his arms, but your tongue feels like a slug in your mouth, heavy and wet and slimy and not doing what you want. Keigo chuckles a little at you, tells you you’re cute, especially when you’re like this, and you want to question him, try to question him, but you tongue barely even moves, only wiggling a little in response.
Something soft, something almost cloudlike is placed under you—no, that’s not right, you’re being placed on something feathery, something fluffy, little hands smoothing down the material as your head falls to the side, rubbing your cheek against it.
“You always get a little catlike when you’re like this, didya know that?”
Keigo’s standing over you now, face partially shrouded as he stares down at you, eyes a pair of shimmering topaz in the darkness. Your forehead crinkles a little, lids falling a bit in a poor attempt to narrow your eyes.
Like what?
The question is fleeting, merely floating through your mind for a moment before you’re captivated by the calloused hands sliding up your bare thighs, legs falling open automatically as you whine a little at the sensation.
More.
The word drifts through your mind slowly, languidly, and you swear you can see it in the air, swirling around Keigo’s head, wavering and wiggling a little. A soft giggle slips from your lips, eyes squinting as you watch the fading word, head foggy and feeling like it’s been stuffed with static. But you’re unable to grasp it; it slips away too easily, just passing by, really, just out of your reach—
“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” Keigo’s asking, a smile on his lips, revealing white teeth that gleam in the pale moonlight spilling through your window, sending shivers skittering across your skin.
It doesn’t sound like he expects an answer, not that you’re in any state of mind to give one either way. His hands have pushed your dress up around your waist now, revealing your panties to him as he kneads your hips mindlessly, fingertips running across your tummy, exploring the supple flesh.
“Just gonna make you a little more comfy, kay? Take this pesky dress off,”
He doesn’t wait for any sort of response as gentle hands curl around the hem, tugging the dress further up your body, a tender palm helping you lift your head a little as he removes the garment completely.
It’s cold, and you whine a little about it as you shiver, wanting to wrap your arms around your torso, but they’re too heavy for you to lift by yourself, whimpering up at Keigo who glares down at you with a sharp smile, mockingly cooing at you.
Honey eyes scan your body once, completely, from head to toe, and he sucks in a sharp gasp through his teeth as his eyes roam.
It’s risky—he knows he should probably fuck you with your dress on, or at least one of those cute, expensive nightgowns Touya always spoils you with, or something—but the adrenaline buzzing through his veins only heightens his senses, makes him feel giddy with the thought of Touya catching him defiling his precious baby sister.
The bed dips as he perches on the edge, palms running over your smooth skin, chills forming in their wake. He snorts to himself, skilled fingers tweaking a peaked nipple, the action causing your nearly shut eyes to open again.
“K-Kei?”
“Yeah, it’s me, baby,” he murmurs.
“You stay?”
“Just for a little,” he promises, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. His gaze glides down your bare chest and to the waistband of your panties; cotton, pink—not that he expected any less—trimmed with lace and adorned with a pattern of blooming roses.
“Aw, these are so cute,” he breathes, a smirk spreading across his lips, his thumb caressing your clit through the thin material.
A little whine escapes your lips, body instinctually arching off the bed, hips involuntarily pushing towards his hand, desperately seeking more.
“Wh-What—You…” you trail off, blinking your heavy eyelids, trying in vain to force them to stay open.
“Just wanna make you feel good, sweetheart,”
And his voice is so low, so soft, makes you want to do anything for him, makes you sure you would do anything for him, anything to get him to continue talking to you in that hypnotic, melodic voice. Eyes finally slipping shut, you give in, and his fingers circling around your swollen clit and playing along your clothed slit feel so good, sending tingling warmth shooting through your veins, a smoldering desire for more encompassing your body.
But then sapphire sears through your mind—burning, blazing, glowing sapphire—and your heavy lids lift again, just enough to make out Keigo’s silhouette.
“Niichan?”
“Shh,” he hushes you as his fingers push the fabric aside, the pads of his fingers swiping along your slit and collecting your wetness, pussy fluttering around nothing eagerly. “Don’t worry about niichan, he’s busy. You want me to make you feel good, don’t you?”
Your head is nodding—slow, jerky movements up and down, up and down—even though you never told it to do that, and you stare up at him with glazed eyes, pupils blown to hell, breathing escaping your parted lips in shallow little puffs.
God, what he’d fucking give for a photo of you like this, quietly berating himself for leaving his phone on the couch downstairs. He’s barely touched you yet and you already look so fucked out, gazing up at him with bliss, adoration, like he hung the moon and painted the stars himself.
Something prods at your hole—a finger, you think, maybe two—and pushes in slowly, Keigo’s dark eyes glued to his actions, huffing out a curse when he reaches the second knuckle.
“Christ, baby, you’re already so fuckin’ wet,” his eyes flick over to your face, taunting smile gracing his lips again. “Were you thinking about this, hmm?” the fingers curl almost vengefully, and you mewl, hips rolling up. “Are you really such a good little slut, like Touya always says you are?”
Humming an affirmative, you whimper out his name, burying your face in the mattress as you pathetically try to fuck yourself on his fingers, grinding against his palm in an almost frantic manner.
He wishes he could take his time with you, wishes he could tease your cute little hole until you’re positively sobbing, cheeks shining with tears and sweat, begging him to just let you cum—you’d look so pretty, he just knows it.
But he doesn’t have the time to daydream—he’s already wasted a bunch of time just staring at you, entranced by the way your lips have been bitten swollen, little tongue peeking out as his fingers curve inside of you, pulling the most adorable moans from deep within your throat, strings of drool dribbling from your mouth, pooling in a small puddle and soaking your bedsheets.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, compliment slipping from his lips seemingly without his knowledge, most of his focus captivated by the way he’s rapidly pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, his digits gleaming with your slick.
His voice is off, you think. It doesn’t usually sound that soft, that hoarse, does it? Fingers curling scatter your thoughts and your back arches, little pleads falling from your lips. You’re not exactly sure what you’re saying, babbling out a steady stream of words that just sound like smothered nonsense to your ears, but Keigo seems to understand, laughing and nodding.
“You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, songbird?”
No, God no, s’not enough, want more, need more, please, please, more, more, more.
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you,” he huffs, but he’s got that smile on, the genuine, easygoing smile, lazy and effortless and so perfect slapped across his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just a little, revealing glossy, sharp white teeth—a more sincere version of the smile you know has broken so many hearts in the past.
Hips are between your thighs now, and you can feel the head of his cock nudging against your hole as large hands force your legs to bend, folding them up on either side of your torso and instructing you to be a good girl, hold yourself open for him.
He didn’t prep you enough—doesn’t technically have the time to, not the way he’d like to, at least, though he’s not sure your greed would’ve let him either way—so it burns a little as your cunt struggles to accommodate his girth, tiny whines escaping your lips.
You’re doing so good, baby, take my cock so well—
The words swirl around in your head, dense and echoing through the space around you, a little pout forming on your lips as you try to place the voice—voices—saying them.
It’s praise you’ve heard before, so many times before, in situations exactly like this one, and your foggy mind has a difficult time telling whether it’s niichan saying them or Keigo. It sounds like both, but…
No, niichan isn’t here. He’s busy, like Kei said.
But the praise, the voices, murmured in the same soft, adoring lilt, makes your stomach churn painfully, something akin to guilt, dark and sour and heavy, taking root deep in the pit of your belly and spreading quickly, beginning to infect the surrounding organs.
The bottoming out of his cock shatters your focus, snuffs out that guilt in an instant, burning it to ash in the fire it ignites, now blazing in your tummy and spreading, higher and higher and higher with each snap of his hips until it rushes through your veins, alighting your entire body as you writhe beneath him, his thrusts working up a steady rhythm.
“One day, I’ll get to fuck you properly,” he grunts, ramming into you hard and fast. “One day, I’ll spend hours eating that sweet lil cunt of yours, one—fuck—one day, I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk,” he’s panting now, getting chatty the way he usually does when he’s close, a truth you’re sure of, even though you’re unable to discern how. “You want that, baby? Huh?”
And the whine you emit, high and needy and broken up by his harsh thrusts, is much too loud; he’s positive anyone standing down the hall—maybe even anyone on the top floor of the house in general—would be able to hear you, a fact that only works to inspire him to fuck more of them out of you as his hips gain speed.
It’s stupid—he knows it’s stupid, it’s reckless, it’s dangerous for the both of you—but he can’t stop, lost all control of his body, his actions, his entire fucking mind, as he pounds you hard enough to shove your whole body up the mattress, basking in the beautiful cries he rips from your throat, mingled with your pitiful attempts at pronouncing his name, coming out in airy little K-Kei’s.
Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, tearing through your convulsing body and splitting it in two as your nails dig into the flesh of your shins, fluttering little hole forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth.
He’s praising you, you think, though you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, your mind gone absolutely numb—everything’s numb, body heavy and boneless as sore fingers unclench from your legs, head hazy and vision fuzzy around the edges.
Your throat feels raw and dry, and you wish you could do something to silence the rough whimpers he’s quite literally fucking out of you, powerless to stop them from leaking out of your lips as your vision whites from excessive pleasure; so much, too much, it hurts, Kei!
But he isn’t paying attention as he grunts in time with his borderline vicious thrusts, breathing rough and erratic as his hands fist in your soft bedsheets—never gripping your hips, always careful not to leave any marks, any evidence of his presence—emitting a low, throaty moan that breaks off into a whine as his hips stutter and then still, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix as his cock pulses, spurting ropes of thick, hot cum and stuffing you full.
He’s panting as he leans down to crush his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, breath hot against your face. You use all of your strength to meet him, mouths slotting together messily, coating your lips in sticky saliva.
He tastes like sunshine—pure sunshine, you’re absolutely sure of it—syrupy sweet like toffee and fiery like spicy cinnamon.
“Oh yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle, shaking his head a little as he sits back on his heels, gentle fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your limp legs. “And what, exactly, does sunshine taste like, songbird?”
“You,”
“God,” he snorts, rolling his eyes while he uses your panties to tenderly wipe away his cum oozing out of you. “Even high and fucked outta your mind, you still manage to be so goddamn cute—it’s a gift, sweetheart, a talent, it truly is,”
Soft giggles bubble past your lips, a few mumbled words sandwiched between them as he finishes buttoning up his jeans, stuffing your soiled panties in his back pocket. Keigo’s fairly sure you’re talking about how tired you are—you always get giggly like this after he fucks the life out of you—so he hushes you gently, nimble fingers carding through sweaty hair as he pushes it back from your face.
“Rest now, angel,”
“Want you to stay,” you pout, and he frowns for the first time tonight, molars grinding together as he exhales a deep, controlled breath through flared nostrils.
He fucking hates it when you do this, when you ask—sometimes beg—him to stay the night, and he swallows thickly, shaking his head and ignoring the pang that sears through his chest, a feeling he’s come to know intimately.
“You know I can’t,”
“Don’t care, wan’you to,”
“I can’t,” he snaps, and his harsh voice feels like a slap to the face, stinging your flushed cheek. Your nose twitches, bottom lip jutting out as your chin begins to tremble, and he sighs, pushing both hands through his hair. “I can’t,” he repeats, much softer this time, fingertips tracing the lines of your face in a tender caress. “I…Want to. You know I do,”
The confession spills from his lips in hushed whispers, entirely without his consent, and he’s not even sure you heard it.
“Soon? Soon, then?”
And you sound so small, so fragile, it nearly breaks his fucking heart. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you no, not when you’re gazing up at him like that, hope and desperation overflowing in your shining eyes.
You won’t remember a thing come morning, anyway.
“Yeah, songbird, soon,”
“Promise?”
Choking back the acidic bile rising in his throat and eroding the back of his tongue, he nods.
“Promise.”
#takami keigo x reader#hawks x reader#takami keigo smut#takami keigo#todoroki touya#aaaaah y’all so sorry i just couldn’t resist making him a leeeeettle bit soft <33#anyway sugar i hope u like it and i hope it makes you smile <33333#it really isn’t anything special; just a lil something yk???#sending u tons of love!!!!!!#tw drugs#tw stepcest
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Everything Makes Sense: The Human Body and Energy
I wrote a thing. It is a very long thing. It probably contains very little information that most people didn’t already know, but it puts it together in a way I’ve never seen it before.
Most of it will be behind the cut but you get the first few paragraphs out here where you can see them.
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Everything Makes Sense: The Human Body and Energy
So you know how you read all this bullshit about “X improves your energy” and “Y gives you quick energy but then you crash” and “Z improves your metabolism” and it all just sounds like words? Technobabble from the world of science fiction television shows?
It may surprise you to know that practically everything you’ve ever personally observed about energy levels makes sense, as do a lot of the layperson observations you’ve heard in your life, and that there are really good reasons why being sick makes you sleepy and why exercising hard on weekends when you’re a slug all week is bad for you, and that all of this is very understandable from a layperson perspective. Or maybe not, maybe you know all this. I’ve spent years knowing all this, but recently it just dawned on me that it’s all interconnected. All the things I know are pieces of an amazing whole.
So I’m going to explain this revelation I’ve had, and when you read it, my guess is you’ll come away thinking “But I knew all that already… but now I understand how it all works together!”
Metabolism
First, let’s talk about metabolism. What is it?
We usually use the term to mean something like “the speed at which my body does the things I’m not consciously controlling it to do.” Like, “I have a really fast metabolism, so food just runs right through me!” Or “I have a very slow metabolism so I have to be real careful about how much I drink.”
To metabolize means for a living thing to process something it has ingested. Metabolism is usually used to mean the process of converting food and nutrients into energy. Sometimes we use it to mean the levels of efficiency or speed at which a body does this, which is where we get “a fast metabolism”. Here, I’m going to try to use metabolism specifically to mean the process by which your body converts stuff to energy.
Life Energy
No, a vampire from an alien planet can’t suck it out of you, but you really do have life energy! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be alive.
The fundamental molecule of life energy, the thing that if it wasn’t there no life processes would be possible because they would not have any energy to work, is a battery called ATP. Its full name, adenosine triphosphate, is a bit of a mouthful, but it basically means that this is a molecule with three phosphorus atoms.
You may have learned in chemistry class, once upon a time, that chemical reactions can be endothermic – they use up energy – or exothermic – they emit energy. Fire is an exothermic reaction; you get it started with heat, usually, but it generates a lot more heat than it took to make it burn in the first place. Your baking soda and vinegar volcano from the science fair a long time ago is also an exothermic reaction. You didn’t put any energy into it to make it bubble like that. On the other hand, melting ice is endothermic. You don’t get any energy when ice melts. It uses up energy to melt.
When ATP releases one of its phosphorus atoms, it becomes ADP – adenosine diphosphate, meaning just two phosphorus atoms! This is an exothermic reaction. ATP turning into ADP is what powers pretty much every single endothermic reaction in your cells. It’s the battery that you run on.
Charging the Battery
Fortunately ADP is rechargeable! An endothermic reaction turns it back into ATP.
The mitochondria do this. You may be thinking, “aren’t they something the lady who wrote A Wrinkle In Time made up?” And you’d be close. The mitochondria appeared in the sequel to A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door. Madeleine L’Engle didn’t make them up, but she did make up “farandolae”, little creatures in the mitochondria, which don’t exist as far as we know. (Although, if scientists do discover little thingies in the mitochondria that let it do its work, they’ll probably name them farandolae because scientists are big geeks.)
Mitochondria in reality are organelles, components of a cell that do work. They’re independent organelles, which have their own DNA and do all their own reproduction. The only other things we know that work like that are chloroplasts, which are only found in plants… so far. (Personally I think being able to photosynthesize from my skin would be awesome and I am eagerly awaiting the day that genetic engineering allows us to put chloroplasts in human skin, but this isn’t a thing yet.)
Mitochondria combine glucose – a molecule made of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, in the formula C6H12O6 – with oxygen, an element that comprises about 22% of our atmosphere, to create carbon dioxide (there’s that di again, meaning two – carbon dioxide is one carbon and two oxygens), water (our old favorite, H2O, sometimes called “dihydrogen monoxide” as a joke about weird chemical names), and enough energy to put a phosphorus atom on a molecule of ADP. Now it’s ATP again! Glucose and oxygen combine in an exothermic reaction.
(Ever wonder why all life on earth depends on the sun? Converting CO2 and H2O into glucose and oxygen is an endothermic reaction. Plants use their chloroplasts to absorb energy from the sun so they can convert CO2 and water into glucose and oxygen. Then animals, like us, eat the plants to get the glucose, and breathe the oxygen. Without the sun, chloroplasts wouldn’t work, plants wouldn’t make glucose, and we’d all starve.)
The Basic Things We Need For This To Work
There are a lot of components going into this system.
The mitochondria need a steady supply of oxygen, but oxygen, being a highly reactive molecule, can’t just float around in the bloodstream like glucose can. (Glucose is iffy too, more on this later.) Hemoglobin, a molecule made with iron, bonds to oxygen and can carry it around safely. Red blood cells are full of hemoglobin. They float in the bloodstream, which goes everywhere in the body. Vitamin B12 is involved in the production of these red blood cells. The bloodstream also carries glucose, but hopefully not too much of it, because glucose is also a reactive molecule and if you have too much, it starts tearing shit up.
The lungs draw in the oxygen that the red blood cells carry, and expel the carbon dioxide. The heart forces the blood to go around and around in this system of blood vessels. The pancreas makes insulin, the hormone that binds up the glucose and regulates how much of it is available in your bloodstream for your cells to take. The speed with which all of this happens can be regulated by thyroid hormone, which requires iodine, and also a working thyroid.
You need all that and a million other things for the system to work perfectly. If the system does not work perfectly, you’re not making as much energy as you could be. That’s pretty obvious.
But here is the thing that’s obvious once you spell it out, and yet, we so often behave, as a society, like we don’t understand it or don’t believe it:
An optimized system still puts out a finite amount of energy at any given time.
If you were in perfect health, right now, you would still have a limited supply of life energy to work with.
We know this. But we behave as if it’s not true. As if we can power through exhaustion with willpower, because being exhausted is a flaw in the system, rather than a really obvious application of the laws of thermodynamics.
What Uses All That Energy?
We also often don’t think about the systems that use those energy, and what they use it for.
The Brain:
The brain is a huge energy hog, using up a whopping 20-25% of all of the body’s energy while awake and conscious (or dreaming – a dreaming mind is as active as a conscious one.) Asleep (but not in REM sleep), the brain still uses about 85% of that, which, lemme do some math here, is 17% if the waking mind was using 20%. A living being can drop to about 50% of that with certain types of anesthesia, but that – the minimum required for a brain to keep a body alive – is still 10% of total energy consumption.
It's not clear how much energy on top of that a very active brain needs. Estimates of how much energy complex and difficult thought consume range from 100 calories a day to 6000! It’s plainly not much on top of basic consciousness, or there’d be no such thing as a fat person doing highly intellectual work all the time, but it’s evident that it’s something.
The Muscles:
We all know about this one. Hard-working muscles use up a lot of energy. How much? Well, swimming, one of the few activities we do that can fully engage the leg muscles and the arm muscles to the same high level at the same time, can burn as much as a quarter of a normal daily intake of calories in a single hour. Most of the time our muscles are not working that hard, but anything more strenuous than vegging out on a couch does burn resources.
The Immune System:
This guy. This guy is the one everyone forgets. The immune system is hard at work all the time protecting you from infections (and, if you’re one of the zillions of people who have allergies or autoimmune disorders, things like cat dander, pollen, and yourself apparently), but when an infection has actually taken hold, the immune system goes into high gear. Most of the responses you experience when you’re sick – nausea, coughing, sneezing, runny or stuffy nose, fever – are actually things the immune system is doing to you to get rid of the infection. Nausea, to expel it through the mouth. Diarrhea, to expel it through the anus. Coughing, to expel it from the lungs, and sneezing, to expel it from the sinus cavities. Mucus, to trap it so it can be expelled. Fever, to kill it, because germs are a lot more sensitive to temperature variation than you, a large multi-celled creature, are. It takes a lot of energy to do all that. Plus there’s white blood cells and T cells and antibodies, all doing their thing.
The Digestive System:
Ever hear the expression “It takes money to make money?” That’s true of life energy as well. The work of moving your food all along the gastrointestinal tract, breaking it down, squeezing and mushing it, making the enzymes to convert it to molecules small enough to get out into the bloodstream, and then pushing the waste out – that’s a lot of effort. There’s no such thing as a free lunch!
The Reproductive System:
Making sperm costs energy. Making a lining for an egg and then expelling it if it’s not used costs energy. Firing up the hormones that cause libido costs energy. And then there’s all the energy burned by the muscles in actually having sex.
Heart and Lungs:
Typically we don’t think of these things as needing a lot of energy because, quite simply, your body’s going to take the energy it needs to run these essential systems whether you want to or not. There’s no re-allocation of baseline energy away from the heart and lungs. But in exercise, when the oxygen demands and the needs of the muscle cells to get more and more fuel increase, the heart and lungs need more energy too.
This is a rough breakdown. You have other systems – we haven’t talked about kidneys and liver and stuff like that – but we’re going to look at these systems in our simplified model.
Everything takes energy. And you have a finite pool of it. Eating more food does not give you more energy – your mitochondria can only work as fast as they can work. If you weren’t at capacity, then yes, food can give you a boost, but it consumes energy first because digestion is work, and if you’re at capacity, any extra calories get stuffed away as fat because extra circulating glucose is bad for you.
By the way, this is why sugar gives you a quick pick-me-up, and should probably be considered a stimulant! Sugar – sucrose, which is basically 2 glucose molecules smushed together, or fructose, which is glucose but in a different shape – supplies your bloodstream with glucose fast, with very little extra work. And it can start doing it in your mouth, because your saliva can break sucrose into glucose and your mucuous membranes can pull glucose into your bloodstream.
But as soon as you start ingesting sugar, your pancreas revs up your insulin production (assuming you don’t have diabetes, or that if you do, it’s type II and not so advanced that you basically don’t have your own insulin anymore.) Insulin, you may recall, is the hormone that keeps circulating glucose levels in your bloodstream down to the levels where the mitochondria can use all of it and there isn’t a lot extra. Extra glucose that nobody is using damages your blood vessels, making them harder and less elastic, which is why circulation problems are a big thing with diabetes, and why my feet are SO FUCKING COLD all winter, not that I’m bitter or anything.
So. You ate sugar, and your body prepared to balance your glucose levels with a lot of insulin. But then all you ate was sugar. You didn’t add fats or proteins or complex carbohydrates in any significant amounts to keep the glucose coming after the initial burst was over. So now you have all this insulin and it went and picked up all the extra glucose and now you know what? Not only is there no extra glucose anymore, there isn’t even enough to keep the home fires burning! Woo, dizzy. Low blood sugar hits the brain hard, because the brain is the energy hog, and feels any dip in energy levels before any other body systems do.
In short, you may have given yourself a quick burst of extra fuel, but in the long run, it may actually make your energy levels drop. And if you ate a substantial meal to go with that quick snack… now we have to send power to the digestive system. And that is why eating more food does not give you more energy unless you’re starving. (Or diabetic, more on this later.)
Energy Trade-offs:
You know the drill. Finite amount of energy. Many systems competing for it. Brain takes the most. So what happens when one system suddenly needs extra?
1. Complex thought shuts down.
I know you’ve experienced this. You’re overtired, or you’ve just done hard exercise, or you have eaten a big meal, or you are sick. You can no longer brain at the levels you expect. Study? Maybe, but retention and comprehension will suuuuck. Math? Probably not. Reading? Depending on how difficult reading in general is for you, maybe this is just the thing, but the topic’s going to be light and easy to comprehend, like fiction, or maybe this article here that you’re reading. Or, maybe reading’s out of the picture. Watching TV? For most people, this is ideal, but if you’re autistic and have an auditory processing disorder and facial recognition issues, hoo boy. Not that I know anybody like that, or anything.
2. Muscles need to be at rest.
Muscles don’t have to move a lot. You could be sitting on a couch. You could be laying in a lawn chair. You’re awake, but you don’t want to move your muscles because it’s hard.
When what you lack to burn your fuel is not glucose, but oxygen, you can get by sometimes. As long as there’s some oxygen. But the byproduct of making energy without enough oxygen is called lactic acid. Which is acid, and it’s in your muscles. Not good! Nobody likes extra acid in places where extra acid shouldn’t be. So your muscles burn. The good news is, the body breaks down lactic acid pretty fast. The bad news is, you may be building it up faster than the body can break it down.
Hard exercise? You’re gonna feel the burn. But you may run into this same problem attempting to walk to the bathroom if you’re very very sick, because all the energy has been re-routed to the immune system, so there’s nothing there for the muscles.
3. Consciousness itself shuts off.
The unconscious brain still consumes a lot of energy, but we’re cutting what we can, and you being conscious is not helping here. Shut down anything we don’t immediately need to use. That includes consciousness.
If you are bleeding out and there’s not enough blood in your body to carry the fuel –
If your blood pressure is low or your heart has stopped working and so the fuel isn’t moving fast enough to where it needs to be –
If your circulating glucose is too low because there’s too much damn insulin –
If there isn’t enough water in the body, so blood pressure drops because blood is mostly water –
If you have a fever, which makes all the chemical reactions in your body go kind of screwy and inefficient –
-- You pass out. You cannot remain conscious because your body has to cut services to keep the whole thing going, and this is how.
Sometimes stupid shit triggers this reaction. Like vasovagal syncope, which can happen from triggers like extreme emotional stress or the sight of blood. Like getting blood drawn (which is probably also vasovagal syncope but seems to have a more physiological basis than some of the other things that can cause it, given that it can occur in people who are absolutely cheerful and fascinated by the fact that blood is leaving their body and not upset about it at all. Not that I would know anything about that, either.)
4. Or, you are highly encouraged to shut down consciousness.
The digestive system is hard at work. There’s no emergency, per se, but this work would get done a lot faster and with less stress if you would just go the fuck to sleep. Thus, “carb coma” or what the cartoon “The Boondocks” called “The Itis.”
The immune system is busting its ass. Things aren’t so serious that you need to pass out. Falling asleep vs. fainting is kind of like shutting down your computer vs. suddenly losing power. You definitely want to go to sleep if the situation is not dire enough to require immediate shutdown of consciousness.
Your body needs to run nightly maintenance. Several systems that operate in low gear when you’re awake need to rev up, and your brain actually needs to do some shit to organize your memories while you’re not recording new ones, and extra energy is needed for the immune system because it’s doing nightly sweeps. Or something like that. We don’t really understand everything that sleep does for us, but we know that if we don’t get it:
- The pancreas doesn’t work right, resulting in getting fat and maybe diabetes
- Also high blood pressure
- Also memories are kind of shit
- Also the immune system doesn’t work too well
We don’t actually know how your brain would operate without sleep if it wasn’t saturated with the “go the fuck to sleep” chemical GABA, which is broken down while you’re sleeping. GABA does a lot of things, but in this context, GABA builds up in your body to send the signal to your brain to stop using so much damn energy and sleep already. And if you attempt to function mentally with high GABA levels… well, you can’t, okay? Your brain is full of GABA receptors that tell it to turn things off. So those things are turning off. How well does your computer run when it's in the middle of shutting down? I thought so.
(Actually we kind of do. There are chemicals that block tiredness. People who use these chemicals can function on significantly less sleep at significantly higher cognitive levels than people who are not on these chemicals. But the stuff like the high blood pressure, the diabetes, the immune system weakening… all that appears to still be happening. Sleep happens for a reason.)
5. Other systems that are highly dependent on energy levels shut down.
- Exercised your ass off? Now your digestive and immune systems have been tamped down because the energy went to your muscles. Eating when the digestive system isn’t working at full capacity results in stomach cramps or nausea. Forcing the digestive system to work when the muscles need maximum energy levels causes muscle cramps. This is why you’re not supposed to go swimming after a big meal – muscle cramps while swimming can kill you.
- Ate a big meal? I bet you are not feeling like having sex right now. Probably also not winning any chess tournaments. And don’t move around too much!
- Feeling sick? Cough, runny nose, sneezing? You’re probably not too hungry. (Especially not when you have a fever. Fevers burn a lot of energy.) You probably do not feel much like having sex. Your muscles ache and you don’t want to move around much. And you are sleepy.
- Feeling randy, baby? You are probably not also feeling hungry.
What Happens When We Game The System?
I briefly mentioned stimulants above – chemicals that artificially reroute energy levels back to the brain, improving concentration and mental acuity, at the expense of everything else.
Well, not literally everything else. Stimulants suppress pain to some slight extent, increase heart rate and blood flow, and make your muscles more eager to do work. Many people report that stimulant use also makes them horny. So those systems are in good shape too. But you know what took a hit? Your digestive system and your immune system. Now, your digestive system… you can feel that immediately. People take stimulants in order to lose weight, sometimes, because they’ll suppress your appetite. Energy rerouting to brain and muscles means the body shuts down digestion. What’s already there will get processed but let’s not add to it, okay?
You did not feel your immune system slow down and weaken. You won’t, today. But maybe tomorrow you’ll get sick. Maybe the day after that.
Oh, but you gotta work, right? The boss won’t tolerate you not coming in. So you stuff yourself full of stimulants – pseudoephedrine, dries up your nose and keeps you awake; caffeine, keeps you focused – and go to work anyway. With energy being forced away from your immune system to keep your brain and your muscles working. That’s not gonna work out well for you, now is it. You wanna pull the military off the front lines to have a parade, when you’re being actively invaded?
Keeping your brain functioning at full capacity, continuing to use your muscles, when you’re sick, will slow your recovery time, because you took the energy away from your immune system to pump it through your brain. Because the amount of energy you can produce is finite, and relatively fixed.
Oh, you can improve some things. Your blood and everything it does, and practically every chemical reaction in your body, is totally dependent on the presence of water, so stay well hydrated. Stock your body well with the vitamins and minerals you need to make all these things function. Are you getting enough oxygen, citizen? Eat food, but with the right balance of carbs and proteins and fats so that your digestive system isn’t overtaxed, you don’t end up with an insulin spike, and you’re not wasting resources. If your system lacked any of these things, then you can improve metabolic efficiency, and your energy levels, by providing them.
But stimulants can’t give you energy. They can make you feel like they did because the energy is going to places where your conscious mind can feel it… but they didn’t increase the amount of energy you have. Resources are being taken away from other areas. Your immune system is taking a serious hit right now. And you can’t feel that, but it’s gonna fuck you up later.
Brains That Have To Work Extra Hard At Basic Stuff
This is a simplified model, but: all brains are full of little modules that do things. And consciousness, ego, is actually pretty bad at most stuff. The little modules that do things are like dedicated co-processors for specific tasks. Spatial processing. Language acquisition. Basic math. Recognizing faces. Managing executive functions.
The neurotypical mind comes with a basic set of things that neurotypicals don’t even realize exist unless they study psychology or spend a lot of time with neurodivergent people, because they all have them. The thing that recognizes faces. The thing that processes sound into speech. The thing that generates speech from thought. The thing that picks up social rules. The thing that can look at letters and figure out easily and quickly how to pronounce them. The thing that tunes in to body language cues. The thing that’s always aware of how loud you’re talking. The thing that enables you to kind of guess how much time has passed. The thing that lets you control what you’re paying attention to. The thing that does basic math.
Many of these little modules need to be trained – language and math and reading don’t suddenly appear in people’s brains, they’re taught – but once trained, the little modules just… do the thing. The person doesn’t have to think about it. They no longer experience any sense of “I’m doing a thing”, it’s just happening.
Not all neurodivergent minds have these things. Many such minds have found a workaround. Use conscious processing power, not black box processing power, because the black box isn’t there, but main cortex is. You can apply intelligence to solve problems like “who is that guy, I know that I know him” and “what are the words those people are saying” and “how do I turn those letters into a sound”. “How do I keep track of how much time I am spending on this?” “How do I make myself do shit that bores me?” We use conscious mind processing power, not the much more efficient black boxes that people aren’t even aware they have.
But what happens when energy is sucked away from the conscious mind, and we’re reduced to vegetating, still awake but without the ability to perform complex thought right now?
If we’re routing skills through the conscious mind, we will lose those skills in proportion to how much we lose the ability to think in general, as energy is drawn away from the brain. And NTs, using the much more efficient black box modules, have no idea that this is even a thing that can happen. It would take far more drastic energy loss for them to lose the work the black boxes do.
Some of us have black boxes that the average NT does not have. I can do complex worldbuilding in my head when I’m so exhausted I can’t talk anymore. There are people who just know the answers to complex arithmetic problems the way most of us just know the answer to 2 times 5. Some people have advanced spatial processing coprocessors that mean they’re almost never lost, because they’re effortlessly creating a map of their surroundings any time they go anywhere, and something in their head is tracking what direction they are in and what turns they’ve made. But some of us do not. Not all of us get a trade, skill for skill. And some of us get black boxes that turn out to be kind of useless. Like, suppose a person more or less effortlessly memorizes the name of every dinosaur ever discovered. Unless they are a paleontologist, when is that going to help?
The important thing to note here is that even a small drop in energy can cause a noticeable drop in an ND’s ability to fake being “normal”, because they are using a less efficient means of computing to perform those skills, and it cuts out on them when energy has to draw down from the brain to go somewhere else.
Spoonies
People with auto-immune disorders are constantly using high levels of energy to do useless and self-destructive shit (not that they want to, but their immune system did not ask first), because their immune system is always on high alert against things like their own nervous system. Overactive immune system consumes energy; body parts taking damage consume energy.
People with cancer or other diseases that lead them to take chemo are burning a lot of energy trying to replenish vital functional cells that the chemo keeps killing. Chemo destroys fast-dividing cells… like white blood cells, and the ones in your mucous membranes, and the ones in your hair follicles. And you can do without hair, but you sort of need your mucous membranes and your white blood cells.
People with fatigue disorders might be suffering from an auto-immune issue, or they might be suffering from a metabolic issue. For instance, low levels of thyroid hormone will cause metabolic processes across the board to slow down, drastically decreasing the available energy.
People with depression might literally actually have a fatigue disorder that manifests in not having enough energy to process serotonin and dopamine correctly. Also, serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine are brain chemicals that do energy routing, having an effect on what the body is putting energy into. Failures to produce enough of those or at appropriate times, or spending energy breaking them down when you still need them, will screw with the body’s ability to deliver energy to the right places.
Whatever the reason, if you have a disorder that drains your energy… even if that’s all it does, even if it literally has no other symptoms, having something that lowers your available energy for your brain and muscles makes it literally impossible for you to function at the levels you would like to. Like, the same way it is impossible for a Chevy Malibu to go 800 miles on one tank of gas. The available energy is not there. Either it is going someplace stupid that you’d rather it didn’t, or metabolism itself just isn’t working well.
If you are neither a spoonie nor neurodivergent, odds are, your body’s working at a reasonably high level of efficiency already, so you can get a dramatic improvement when you find one of the few things you lack, and you fill that need. Hydrate? (Everything runs on water) Exercise? (Speeds up circulation, and fitness in general will cause your metabolism to be more efficient) Vitamins? (Sure, if you’re missing some, vitamins are real useful.)
But if the problem is, you’re pouring energy into activities society requires you to engage in but your brain cannot do them easily and efficiently, so they cost you a lot more than others; if the problem is, your body is wasting a lot of energy on an immune response to things that shouldn’t need an immune response; if the problem is, there’s a food your body can’t break down, so you’re eating enough to feel full but never getting enough energy from it; if the problem is, your metabolism is lacking something esoteric that almost everyone else has enough of, so it’s nearly impossible to figure out what’s missing… exercise and hydration and vitamins will not help. Or, they may help, if you were lacking them, but they won’t fix the problem.
Expecting you to just push through a lack of energy through willpower is a total misunderstanding of how the brain and body work. You cannot do what you don’t have energy to do, and if you route energy to your brain or muscles to accomplish something that requires really pushing yourself, you are taking it away from somewhere else. Probably your immune system. So you’ll get sick. And then you’ll be even more overtaxed.
It’s amazing the degree to which ignorant people think that all bodies literally work the exact same way. (And yet many of these ignoramuses think that people of a different race are somehow completely different from them in some fundamental way. Make it make sense.) What’s even worse is the number of doctors who believe that the only way bodies can malfunction are the ways they happen to know about, so anything outside their experience is fake.
But if you understand how complex the system is and how variable the things that can go wrong with it are, and you understand the role of energy, and energy distribution, in the body, it becomes obvious. You can’t force yourself to do what you don’t have the energy to do without taking it away from somewhere else.
Weight and Energy
There is no question that it’s possible for a human to get to a place where their weight is a severe drain on their energy levels. But very few people are actually there.
Muscle is heavier than fat. But muscle does the work of dragging the weight of a body around. A body with good muscle tone – fat but fit – is in a much better position, in terms of energy production and distribution, than a thin body with weak muscles.
Fat actively helps with energy conservation in the cold. A fit fat person – someone whose musculature is strong and healthy enough that they have no difficulty moving their own weight – has reserves to burn in the event of a disorder that consumes so much energy, it inhibits digestion. (To be honest, so does a weak fat person, but they’re losing energy every time they move because they’re too heavy for their own muscles. But this is true of physical weakness in general.)
Not everyone can be fit! Exercise, if you recall, is one of those things that burns a lot of energy! If you already have very little energy, you’re going to have a very hard time exercising enough to become fit.
All of this is normal. It’s natural. It makes sense. Why would being fat automatically make you less healthy in all situations than someone thin? Being underweight is correlated with a significantly shorter lifespan than being overweight.
I’m Gonna Talk About Diabetes Here
We’re told over and over that there’s a giant health crisis among Americans of increased obesity, and this is causing diabetes.
Bullshit.
Consider this. Diabetes is a disorder where you don’t produce enough insulin, but many Type II diabetics got that way because their body massively overproduced insulin to the point where they wore out their pancreatic cells. Remember when I said insulin takes circulating glucose out of the blood stream and stuffs it somewhere safe? You know where it stuffs it? Fat cells. Doctors have been telling people that being overweight causes diabetes… when we know for a fact that diabetes is caused by insulin resistance, a condition where the cells don’t respond well to insulin, so insulin levels go up, and the body’s ability to produce its own insulin is worn down by heavy overproduction. Do the math. You had high levels of insulin production for years because your cells were resistant to insulin? Insulin stores sugar in fat cells, as fat? Gosh, I wonder if the condition that led to your becoming diabetic happened to be the exact same condition that caused you to get fat!
In a case like that, losing weight wouldn’t do jack shit for your insulin, but changing the way you eat so there’s less circulating sugar in the first place would, and this would cause you to store less in your fat cells, which would cause you to lose weight. But it’s not the weight loss that helped you. You couldn’t solve your problem by cutting calories, because calories didn’t get you into this position. High levels of circulating glucose did. Exercising super hard and going on a diet and actually losing weight – which would be hard, because super high levels of insulin storing all that sugar as fat, and yet your blood sugar is still high because your cells don’t respond to the insulin, but let’s say you pull it off – that does nothing. Maybe you see an improvement in your symptoms because eating very little produces very little circulating blood sugar… though now you’ve got some other symptoms. Namely, no energy. And any improvement you experienced is temporary, because you’re addressing a symptom, not the problem.
Doctors know that insulin stores sugar as fat. Doctors know that diabetic people with Type II generate higher and higher levels of insulin as their body tries to compensate for not responding to it, until finally the cells give up and the patient needs to take artificial insulin. And yet, somehow, we are still hearing “fat causes diabetes, lose weight and you won’t get diabetes!” There’s a disconnect here.
Overclocking
I’m going to talk about something as dangerous as fuck here.
When your body’s natural systems are not regulating your blood sugar, and so you can have greater than normal levels of sugar in your bloodstream… this can make the pie higher.
Remember I said you can’t increase your energy levels by adding more fuel, because the mitochondria can only work as hard as they can work? Well, that’s not completely true. Mitochondria can apparently work harder than that, if they have access to more sugar. It’s just that more sugar is destroying your circulatory system, resulting in damage to your retinas, the nerves in your hands and feet, your ability to regulate the temperature of those extremities, the speed at which you can grow back skin in an injury, and, oh, pretty much everything else.
Get to a certain level of blood sugar and you feel like absolute shit. But in the range between that – higher than you should be but lower than the levels you can actually feel bad in – you have more energy.
This is fucking awful, to be honest. Everyone wants more energy! Energy helps you get shit done! More energy to the brain makes your brain work better.
And you want the sugar. You want the high glucose. You don’t know that’s what you want, but you know you crave sweets and carbs, and when your glucose is high (but not too high), it’s a stimulant. You’re awake, you can focus, your mental energy is good. Cut down the way they tell you that you need to, when you’re diabetic, and now you’re sluggish and depressed.
It’s killing you slowly but not doing it is depressing and hard and the slow death isn’t causing you any significant amount of suffering, until it does, and then it’s too late.
Sugar is a drug and you’re addicted. But it’s food. There are no regulations to protect you from eating all the food you want. There is no social opprobrium in general against sweet foods or carb-high snacks. (If you are fat you might suffer from this, but thin people are allowed to eat whatever the fuck they want, and honestly if you’re fat you will probably catch shit for eating a nice big steak, which is a lot better for you if you’re diabetic than a piece of toast.)
You’re overclocking your brain, the same way gamers overclock their PCs to get higher performance. Except that when they melt their CPU they can just buy a new one. You are not buying a new brain anytime soon.
I Am Not A Doctor
I didn’t go to medical school. I did study biology at the graduate school level, but no medical degree.
But everything I’m saying is backed up by pretty much any source I look at. It’s just that the conclusions that I’m drawing, while they are logical outgrowths of the things I’m saying, are for some mysterious reason not the conclusion that people who go to medical school are drawing.
Bodies are all different. Bodies are very complicated with many interlocking systems. Many, many things can go wrong with bodies. Far more things than science is fully aware of yet. Therefore it makes perfect sense that if someone is tired all the time for no good reason, there is a good reason and we just don’t know what it is. If someone can’t easily do a thing another person can do, that is absolutely normal and expected, unless that other thing is something that falls into a range that most humans can easily do. Then all of a sudden it becomes impossible to imagine that a human couldn’t do it? Bullshit. We don’t understand the brain perfectly.
It is absolutely normal that when a person’s energy levels are high, they have the resources to accomplish things they cannot do when their resources are low. The notion that if you’re disabled, there’s a thing you can’t do and you can never do it and that is the way it has to be, is nonsensical. Yes, of course some people are disabled in that way. If you have no legs, then no matter how much energy you have, you will never have legs. But you might be a lot better able to tolerate uncomfortable prosthetics when your energy levels are high.
“If you could do it today then why couldn’t you do it yesterday?” I don’t know, Karen, why couldn’t you vacuum your carpet after you’d been working all day, when you were pushing that vacuum around with no trouble last weekend? People can accomplish more when they have more energy. Doing things consumes energy. Once your energy is consumed, the fact that it can only replenish at a finite rate means you have to wait to get more. While you’re waiting, you can’t do stuff, because stuff takes energy, that you don’t have, because you used it up on other stuff. What part of this is unclear?
Being fat is a symptom of underlying conditions in most of the diseases that it’s correlated with. It’s not that being fat is unhealthy, like losing weight would make you healthy again; it’s that it is a symptom of your disorder that shows up before the more definitive symptoms do. It is possible to improve your health by exercising and changing what you eat, and sometimes, this may result in weight loss, but it wasn’t the weight loss that improved your health. It was becoming fitter (more muscle) and eating stuff that isn’t poisoning you because some of your metabolic pathways don’t work. If you don’t lose weight, you may still be getting healthier.
(I suspect it’s actually true that being fat will damage your joints. You’re putting more of a load on them, so it makes logical sense. What doesn’t make sense is to say that being fat causes diabetes and high blood pressure when we know for a fact that overly high levels of insulin cause both being fat and diabetic, and overly high levels of blood sugar cause high blood pressure, heart disease, and general circulation problems, so. Um. All of these things come from insulin resistance? That is the problem? Not the weight, that’s a symptom?)
And sometimes, sugar is an addictive drug. If you’re feeling self-satisfied because you’re not an alcoholic, and you don’t smoke, and you’ve never taken an illegal drug, but you can’t do without your blueberry muffin in the morning and your ice cream after dinner… stop feeling superior to people addicted to illegal substances or well-known vices. The only difference between them and you is that you got addicted to a substance that will kill you but that is safe for most people, and because it improves your mood and your productivity, capitalism is more than happy to let you indulge it until you drop dead.
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you did the mini fic way i loved you (which was amaaazing) but how about champagne problems where remus says no to sirius' proposal because he gets spooked by a couple of purebloods :(
~Notes: Nonny babe! I can’t believe you made me write such angst😩😩😩 This isn’t quite that but I hope you like it anyways🥺🥺 ILU!!!
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A Reblog Is Worth The Sexiest Bottle Of champagne! | The Way I Loved You FIC | Send Me A Prompt/Song??💜
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“I’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, I am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in here.”
—L.M. Dorsey
.-
When Remus’s father leaves for the final time three weeks before his tenth birthday, his Mam spends only two days in bed before she drags out an old bottle of Dom Pérignon and pops it open, pouring them each a glass with a smile the wrong side of worn as she beckons him forwards with an indulgent bend of the knuckle. “Come along, mon amour. Just this once, just to say farewell.”
As he thumbs the skinny tumbler bubbling with the amber liquid that’s been his mother’s favorite ever since growing up in her Northern French town on the outskirts of Paris, Remus wonders if he’ll ever forget the words his father spewed before leaving— the declaration that they must be cursed if their first child turned into a monster and their second came out stillborn. Wonders if he’ll ever forget the livid, borderline murderous expression that spilt over his mother’s delicate features before she screamed at him to leave for the final time. Wonders if he’ll ever not feel so weary— So destitute.
“’S all just champagne problems mon petit lapin,” she says in that airy way of her’s that somehow still radiates a knowledge beyond his reach. “None of it ever matters, not truly. Not ever.”
Remus eyes the dark circles smudged against her pale skin, and the way her caramel curls fall limply from her bun. She’s always been the most beautiful woman in the world through his eyes but he now thinks she might be the strongest too. So strong that she’s sitting there, right in front of him in their small kitchen— and she’s pretending that her tiny son, her first and only born, hasn’t brought absolute ruin to her life that should’ve been buoyant and lovely for such a pretty, quick witted Muggle girl.
“Yes, I know Mam,” he says instead of the truth, because if he’s being at all honest he’s always been a bit of a coward and a bit too desperate for some semblance of normality.
.-
It becomes a mantra of sorts to Remus as he stumbles into adolescence. He calls every inconvenience in his life, champagne problems, and drinks the hurt away in a secret nook off the astronomy tower that he purposefully left off the map he and his friends had created with a sheer pulse of brilliance and adventure and a need to leave their marks on this stupid sodding castle. A castle that’ll inevitably kick them out on their arses from it’s relative safety with such cold indifference. A castle that will soon be brimming with a new generation of students sullying the same spaces, same corridors they once spent their days laughing and jeering and frolicking about— creating mischief in it’s hallowed halls. The one and only time that Remus was able to hold his breath and wrap himself in warmth he never knew and will never know again, not ever in the same sort of youthful ignorance— One that he only feigns to hold when around his friends because he thinks he’s never been young, not the way they are. Remus reckons he aged a century and a half after the bite and a century more after his father had left, and then a millennia when his mother was diagnosed with third stage breast cancer when he was a fresh fifteen. A death sentence dressed up in bows of apology by the doctors and shiny wrapping-paper of potential hope if the aggressive treatments they employ make a difference. And soon enough the ever green that was his juvenescence will turn brittle and gray and awash with memories of hopelessness, only adorned sparingly by memories of Peter’s quiet companionship and James’s affable grins. Lily’s easy laughter and Sirius’s searing snogs. Instances of respite that were eventually drown out by the shitty Wizard champagne he’s able to finesse after sucking off the twenty something who works night shifts at the Hog’s Head.
But it doesn’t matter.
All of his issues are inconsequential at the end of the day; from a paper cut, to his worst transformations to the time his first boyfriend sneered at him with pure distain after he had snubbed his wanting to go further subsequent two months of furtive touches and inconspicuous dates. It’s all just a load of shit, a collection of champagne problems just like his Mam had said all those years ago.
Even that incident the morning in fifth year when he found out that his best friend— the boy he would’ve done just about anything for, anything only just to see him smile— had weaponized his most hated form. When Sirius nearly made him into a murderer, into a beast, when he nearly proved true the self fulfilling prophecy that every werewolf is as dark as creatures can become. The charms of veelas, combined with the insatiable cravings of vampires and the wily natures of goblins. When Sirius had nearly turned Remus inside out, made him everything he hates.
But no. That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. Because paper cuts heal, and the full moons set, and James hexes a legion of boils to sprout up all along Quintin’s face. And at the end of the day, he’ll always love Sirius first and last and the very most. He’ll always forgive him any indiscretion because when Sirius’s hand— soft palms and callus fingers— caresses his side, Remus feels close to whole, close to alive, close to something real. And God Remus loves him so much it aches in his chest and creeks in his bones.
So when he comes back to Hogwarts the night after his mother’s funeral— two months divorced of that incident, two months of painful quiet and empty arms and heart wrenching need— Remus lets Sirius collect him into his embrace, and lets them cry together under the canopy of night fall, and when Sirius begs him to come back to them, to forgive him, to let him inside the most protected nooks of his mind once more, all Remus says is “yes,” and “All right,” and “I never stopped.” He doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t think he’s ever ben there’s in the first place, doesn’t think he’s ever been here or anywhere. He doesn’t tell him that sometimes it feels like he’s some faded sepia photograph come to life in the form of his too skinny body and too large eyes and too gangly limbs. He doesn’t tell Sirius that he doesn’t think he’s ever been anything meant to last on this plane of existence, but he does let Sirius kiss him and hold him and fuck him because it’s the first time since Sirius left Grimmauld back in December the he looks something close to at peace. And Remus knows that he never wants to be someone who makes him frown with that protruding vein on his temple. Someone like Sirius— Someone so beautiful, so vivid, so alive— deserves a life painted in technicolor. And Remus refuses to be the person to drain the vivacity from his every breath. To scuff out his lust for life.
.-
The first time Sirius asks Remus to stop gulping down the champagne and gin and Ogden’s finest by the fist fulls, it’s their final night of their final term and after Remus barbs a little too forcefully that their dingy little dormitory is the one place for him after Lily jokes that it’s a madhouse.
“It’s gonna bloody kill you Remus, it’s already doing it for fucks sake. You can’t even walk straight most mornings damn it!” He shouts in the quiet of their room while James and Lily are ensconced in her own bed on the other end of the tower and Peter is off snogging his Hufflepuff girlfriend in some deserted third floor closet.
“All right,” Remus tells him after swallowing down the last of his champagne, words pouring out his mouth like warm molasses and arm slugging languidly when he tosses the empty bottle to the side before patting the empty end of his bed for Sirius to lie down besides him. He doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t have the energy for the shouts and accusations and hurt that they always fling at each other during these more heated moments. He supposes he doesn’t have much energy for anything at all anymore.
Sirius stilts from where he’s looming above him, tongue poised for another verbal lashing. But he must see something in Remus’s face, or probably just feels exhausted in similar ways, because he only breathes in— tension melting from his shoulders— and slinks off his jacket before shuffling into the comforter besides him.
And in the future Remus will wonder whether if he remembers it correctly that it felt like everything was standing on an axis as Sirius rode his cock— slow and steady and minutes that feel like decades. Or maybe he’s just recalling it differently because he realized for the first time that night that for every inch of him that loves Sirius, the other boy feels that same sort of enthralling passion. Only difference is that Sirius’s always been the greedy sort, the once and future king of all or nothing. Remus is the contrary of that. He’s lived with nothing before and he’s perfectly fine with living that way again, had never really expected much from his life anyhow. But Sirius deserves to have everything and Remus knew then— will always know, that he could never give him that.
.-
The year following their graduation is beautiful in that way that transitional periods always are. A turning of an age eclipsed by sunlight and laughter and kisses that makes Remus feel like they’re melding into one another, becoming indelible parts of each other’s very skin and bones.
But it’s also a time when Remus realizes just how helpless his condition has made him, how despite his top marks in no less than seven NEWTs, he’s always just a werewolf in the eyes of the Wizarding world. So while Lily studies in St Mungos and Peter takes up post at the ministry and Sirius joins James in the Auror’s academy, Remus works days at a quaint bookshop with a doting elderly woman who makes him soup when she thinks he’s looking peaky, and a gay night club with a handsy boss that leers at him with an intrusive air and asks regularly if he’s still with that boyfriend of his.
Remus feels like a fraud.
So when he gets that letter from Dumbledore sent to the flat that Sirius insists is their’s but Remus only ever calls his— he replies with a hasty scrawl on the back of some spare parchment, telling him that of course he’ll do anything to help the Order. Tells him that he understands the discretion that’s required of such a mission. He tells his past headmaster that he grew up collecting secrets like school children collected friends, so this won’t be an issue. He doesn’t tell him how it’s a practice so ingrained into him that sometimes even he doesn’t know who the fuck Remus John Lupin is most days, doesn’t know the seams that string him together like a pair of tattered trousers. He doesn’t tell him that he’s only afraid of one thing and it’s his boyfriend’s dedication, because Sirius is the sort who loves unadulteratedly and without conditions. Sirius doesn’t yet understand that the boy who he’s let inside the most intimate parts of him, the boy who he shares a bed with night after night is the same monster a younger him— in a spur of passion— had planned to deploy as a means of destruction.
Sirius doesn’t understand how foolish it is to intwine his life with Remus’s, even if he thinks it’s some sort of challenge, if he looks at it with the romantic lends that he could love the monster out of someone. And it’s positively idiotic to think as much, like Sirius’s tender hands and sweet whispers can be Remus’s cure.
It’s so fucking stupid! And occasionally Remus wants to bash his head into a wall, but instead kisses him with devouring intent before he could.
The owl nips at his finger for the last remnants of the stale biscuit Remus had offered it in thanks and he watches it soar away like he could never do.
.-
The first time Sirius tells Remus he loves him, it’s in the bathroom of the Longbottom’s small cottage— amidst panting breaths and thrusting hips and grappling hands as they try to get one another off as quick as possible before someone finds them in such a compromising state.
Remus has just spent three weeks in a werewolf camp in the south of Glasgow, and came here to find Sirius as soon as he can home. And while they get lost in one another in this cramped loo he forces himself not to think of how Sirius had been chatting up and chuckling with Emmeline Vance.
Emmeline Vance, who is a beautiful blonde witch with vibrantly green eyes and a full smile that isn’t even slightly crooked like Remus’s own. Emmeline Vance who is the pure blooded daughter of the Swedish Minister of magic, and who came here to London because her country has never discriminated against half bloods or muggle borns— even if they brand their dark creatures with tattoos and lock them up in cages whenever they try to speak up against their lack of human rights.
Emmeline Vance who is the perfect complement to Sirius’s dark brooding and pale eyes and charisma that radiates off of him like the leading man in a novel written during the generation of disillusioned artists who had survived the first great war in the Muggle world. And Remus sometimes feels like Sirius’s gaze is trained on him like Gatsby towards the green light he watched every night thinking of his beloved. And sure Lupin and Daisy might be a pair of flowers but one is poisonous and the other is bright with life and Sirius has always been the sort to pick the worst option because he’s a glutton for punishment, and sometimes Remus thinks that’s all he is. Sirius’s warped way of punishing himself for being born into such a fucked up family— fettering himself to a poor, halfblooded, halfbreed, as some sort of declaration that he’s not the heir of the House of Black any longer, that he rebelled against them with every fiber of his being. That he’s the precise antithesis of their values even if he shares the same eyes and imperious air and steadfast beliefs on top of his effortless genius— even if they are beliefs that juxtapose against his family’s blood supremacy.
And Remus hates these sorts of contemplations, hates how they make him feel like a trader to the love between them. But he forgets about it all when he remembers how Sirius glanced up and caught his gaze when he first stepped into the living room, amiable expression morphing to one of pure wanting the second he spotted him, coldly disregarding an extremely glum looking Emmeline, as he strutted towards Remus and dragged him to the only empty spot and kissed the moonbeam scars that litters his skin and calls him beautiful despite it all— Maybe even because of it.
.-
The eleventh time Sirius asks Remus to marry him, it’s the night of Regulus’s funeral, when his limp body was found slashed against the grounds of the Hampshire woods after three weeks of being declared missing.
It’s spoken in a voice that’s so raw and primal and demanding that it makes Remus curl into himself when he hears it, getting lost in the sensations all around him— Sirius’s hot breath skirting the back of his neck, and Sirius’s large hand clenched around his dick, and Sirius’s length pounding into him with such force that their headboard smacks against the wall. And when they’re done, Sirius slides out of him amidst a round of peppering kisses along the ridges of his spine and expanse of the shoulders and on the hinge of his jaw. It feels like not an apology so much, but a plea. And Remus knows that the last year has been rough on them, on their relationship. Knows how difficult it is that Remus has been spending nearly as many nights spying on the wolves as he has in the flat. That Sirius wants to know where the fuck Dumbledore is sending his boyfriend, that he hates Remus only slightly because he’s so tight lipped about it all.
He’s argue that James tells Lily what he’s up to, and Remus would remind him that they’re married, and then Sirius would get a look on his face that’s so betrayed and so pained and so furious that Remus spends the night on the sofa instead— Well he would if Sirius didn’t have a habit to coax him back into his arms with mumbled apologies and gentle caresses and barely their kisses before the night ends.
So Remus lets him do the same now, and he ignores the questions about where he was all this time and shrugs off the way Sirius tries to reason that none of them know how long they have left living, how he wants to spend the rest of his days as Remus’s husband. And he watches Sirius flutter his eyes closed and waits for his breath to even out.
He never tells Sirius that he wants to wed him so badly that it’s cutting against his heart like a knife licked with flames, even if he’s been in love with Sirius for practically half his sodding life. Ever since he had jauntily invited him to sit in the cart with him and a bespectacled lad, along with another that was a bit plump and eager looking.
No. Through all the shouts and begging and sneers of tonight, Remus never dared tell him that. Remus knows Sirius, and if he had said as much, then that would’ve been it for him. Sirius would have fought for Remus with every inch of his being. He would’ve made sure that Remus excepted his love, that he would have utilized the ferociousness and ferocity and indignation that breathes in his every vein and what makes up the marrow of his bones as the beautiful and brilliant and incandescent scion of the ancient and most noble House of Black— would’ve done so until Remus gave into his demands.
Remus promised himself a long time ago that he’d never be the one to scuff out the light that shone in Sirius’s very soul. He’d never watch himself turn Sirius into a burnt shell of anything bright and fluttering and lively that ever existed in the spaces of his ribs and the valleys of his chest. Not like what he did to his Mam— eventually killing her. Not like how he drove his father away because the dread was too heavy of a burden to carry.
Remus would rather Sirius hate him then watch him suffer through that.
Anything but that.
So Remus quietly packs his few belongings in the same trunk he’s had since first year with a flick and swish of his wand. And he pens Sirius a missive that he just doesn’t feel the way he had when they were in Hogwarts. And he tells him that his missions have him traveling all over the continent and it’s too much work to constantly be coming back home. Tells him that he knows about the brunette Muggle boy he had fucked back in August when he thought Remus was fibbing about his whereabouts and he lies that it’s all right because he tells him that he’s been shagging a professor from Beauxbatons named Benjy for the past six months whenever he was sent to France under duress of Dumbledore. Even if the truth is that he refuted his every advance because his love for Sirius will always sing the loudest in his heart.
He sets the goodbye on the dresser that is only piled with Sirius’s things now, and doesn’t let himself sneak one last kiss while Sirius continues to doze. Tries to imprint the image of him— so gorgeous and so so human— in his mind’s eye, hopes he’ll recall the precise slope to the small of his back and the flyaway strands of his ink black hair and how he breathes in two beats longer with every third exhale. Knows that he’ll never memorize just how jutting his cheekbones really are, or how his lashes kiss the top of them with such grace that it’s close to angelic. And he’ll never again feel the neediness Sirius could evoke with his fingers and tongue and cock, but maybe that’s all right. Maybe Remus got his time in the sun and now he has to repent for steeling that snatch of heaven for all these years.
Nothing could’ve kept the flame between them flickering for long, and that’s a truth Remus knows as inherently as his knowledge that Sirius was the great love of his life— But Remus was always destined to either spare him or burn the golden tapestry that made up the picture of Sirius Black until it was nothing but ash.
So he leaves and he tells himself that it’s the right decision for both of them.
~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist~
#wolfstar#REMUS LUPIN#SIRIUS BLACK#SIRIUSXREMUS#REMUSXSIRIUS#MARAUDERS#HARRY POTTER SERIES#I'm sure no one will like this lol#sigh#spilt ink
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An Ending Within--Ch. 17
Chapter 17
It was dark. Rain lashed against the windows. Underneath it all, the whimper of my daughter and the soothing tones of my husband’s voice.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the bed or held my child. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said a word to anyone. The last time I’d eaten.
My eyes burned. Raw and hot from tears. I was empty, hollowed out from the inside. Everything hurt. But I couldn’t really feel anything at all.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest. Sitting upright in the middle of the bed, I stared into the blackness of the room, doing my best to think and simultaneously not think at all. Time had lost meaning. I couldn’t remember what day it was, or how long it had been since I’d run into her backstage at Raw. When my whole being forgot everything except for the feeling of my life slowly slipping away into blackness.
The door opened, spilling slices of stark light across the carpeted floor. I didn’t have to look up to see Seth standing in the doorway. “Are you going to eat?”
My shoulders rose and fell. I didn’t care. I couldn’t make myself care, no matter how hard I tried. Guilt rushed through me, even though I couldn’t gather the strength to deal with it. I hated myself more every second that I couldn’t get myself together.
“Llane, please…” he whispered, stepping closer to the bed. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he was going to sit on the edge of the bed. If he was going to try to put his arms around me, to tug me close and try to talk me out of my depression. I wished and prayed and hoped that he didn’t.
It didn’t matter that I wanted to—more than anything I’d wanted in a log time—there was no dragging my mind through the blackness that still covered me like tar.
I could sense him standing there, waiting, watching, trying to figure out what he could do. I hated that there wasn’t anything that would change it. After another minute or two, he turned and walked away, shutting the door softly behind him.
***
Time slugged by. It raced around the edge of a black hole and compressed into every moment in every history. I’d lost track, and I couldn’t grasp its flow any longer. There wasn’t any meaning left in it for me. And some part of me liked it that way.
It was daytime—the light streaming in the windows was evidence of that—but there wasn’t much more I could figure out. I didn’t know what day it was. My phone was dead, having sat on the bedside table unplugged for God knew how long. An ache settled in my stomach. My vision swam with each move of my head. Moving required more energy than I had.
Noise filtered from the rest of the house. Echoed and reverberated and grew louder as it got closer. The door banged against the wall.
“Alright, dollface,” Jon said from behind me. His voice was almost too loud in my ears. His ever-present frenetic energy made my skin crawl and itch. “I’ve had just about enough of this.”
He rounded the bed and stood over me, his eyes flashing like blue chips of ice. I blinked slowly. He ran his hands over his close cropped hair. “Get up.”
I blinked again. Tried to roll away. Ended up flopping in a contorted position that made my neck throb.
Jon kicked the bedpost with his steel-toed boot. “Sophie Weston Lopez. I said to drag your ass out of this bed right now.”
Movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Seth standing at the doorway, our sleeping two-year old against his shoulder.
The bed jerked again. The sound of steel on wrought iron echoed again.
“Alright,” Jon snarled, “that’s it. I’m sick of this shit.”
He leaned over the bed, scooping me up into his arms and practically draping me over his shoulder. The world tipped and swayed as he walked. He brushed past Seth. I caught sight of his face—part terrible sadness and part complete relief. Sefina shifted against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his neck.
A moment later, I was plopped unceremoniously at the table. A bowl of cereal and a full glass of water sat just a few inches away.
“Eat,” Jon said from right beside me, pointing his finger angrily at the food. “Now.”
I drew a breath. My chest ached with it. I wanted to cry, but didn’t have the tears.
He moved around the table, pulled out a chair. Turned it backwards and straddled it. His mouth tipped into a frown.
“Eat,” he repeated, more angrily than before.
Seth crossed in front of me. I glanced up, met his gaze, begged somehow for him to drag me out of whatever this was. He smiled softly but shook his head. It seemed like I was on my own.
My fingers shook weakly as I gripped the spoon and maneuvered a bite of cereal to my mouth. I gasped in a breath after each bite, even as I felt a little bit of awareness creep in as sugar flooded my system.
Jon wasn’t satisfied until I had eaten every bite, slurped down every drop of milk left in the bowl, and drank every ounce of water in the glass. I felt full and sluggish at the same time as my nerves started to jitter with sugar rush.
“Good,” he said at last. He stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Now get up. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” I murmured barely loud enough to be heard.
Jon leaned forward, bracing his fists on the table. Fire snapped in his eyes. He stared me down ferociously. “Let’s. Go.”
***
The lights were too bright. Every sound echoed painfully through the empty room. Dust motes danced in the light as Jon half pushed half dragged me across the room toward the training ring in the corner of Black and Brave’s gym. We were alone in the silence.
“Get in the ring.” Jon gave me a firm shove between the shoulder blades. “Right now.”
I fetched up against the apron, folding forward and resting my head on my forearms. Whatever energy I’d gotten from the sugary breakfast had swept out of me in the walk from the kitchen to the car and the car to the ring.
“I can’t.” The words came out in a weak moan. “I can’t, Jon.”
The ring rattled and bounced as he swept in beneath the bottom rope. I could sense him hovering over me. In the next moment, Jon grabbed me under the arms and yanked me up to stand on the apron. He barely gave me time to get my bearings before he hefted me over the top rope and pushed me into the corner.
Turnbuckles dug into my back. I couldn’t quite find my balance. Vertigo made my head spin.
“You can’t?” Jon whispered frustratedly. “Can’t or won’t?”
I whimpered. “I can’t.”
He walked a few steps away and leaned against the ropes. “Huh. That’s not the woman I know. You’re weak.”
Something like shame and anger burned in my chest. My brain wanted to fight him, but my body didn’t have the energy. I didn’t even think I had it in me to argue with him.
Jon paced across the ring, bounced off the ropes on the other side. I watched him with a detached disinterest. Like there was a thick glass that separated me from him. From being able to care.
“You should have stayed out of the ring when Ronda put you down,” he said, his voice stern and cold. “She did you a favor really. All of us. So we don’t have to watch you anymore.”
Anger burned bright in my chest. Every word out of Jon’s mouth was an echo of the doubts and fears that had plagued me from the moment I’d returned to wrestling. They were the nightmares that shocked me awake at three in the morning, sweat making my clothes stick to my skin.
I hated myself for every whisper of those doubts. And God knew, in that moment, I hated Jon for repeating them.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
He grinned, one corner of his mouth tipping upward. “Bringing you back was a mistake. Giving you another title was a pity move. Because they knew you wouldn’t last much longer. ‘Let’s give her one more run, she’ll be on the shelf soon.’”
“Fuck you, Jon,” I snarled back. I balanced myself with the ropes, putting my feet firmly beneath me. Anger boiled in my blood. “Fuck you for every word you just said.”
He chuckled. “What are you going to do about it? You left whatever was good about you in the ring when Ronda almost broke your neck because you fucked up.”
I sucked in a breath and let out a scream that echoed against the rafters. My feet pushed me across the canvas before I consciously thought of it. Blood pounded through my veins. Adrenaline flooded my limbs.
Jon and I slammed into each other in the center of the ring. He caught me by the head, snapping me into a side headlock. His bicep crushed into my ear. Fingers locked as the pressure made me feel like my skull was going to explode.
I wriggled, pain lancing along my face as I squeezed out of his hold. I ducked under and ran toward the ropes. Bounced off, swerved away out of his reach, and kicked out with the top of my foot against the back of his thigh. He swore and limped for a moment. Then he turned back toward me, a playful grin on his face.
“Now,” he said with a chuckle, “are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”
My limbs buzzed with electricity. Being this close to Jon drew out some of that frenetic energy that always crackled when he was around. I felt a smile rush over my face as I crossed over to him, throwing my arms around his waist.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I felt his lips brush the top of my head. “You always know exactly what I need.”
He laughed. “What was it Seth called me—I’m your emotional support Jon.”
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The Quidditch Match: Ron Weasley Imagine
“Eat!” You demanded, a frown tugging at the corners of your lips. Your best friend and long-time crush, Ron Weasley, stared at you in bewilderment as he waved a piece of toast in front of his eyes.
“Eat!? Only to hurl up my breakfast all over the Quidditch pitch!?” He scoffed, his face losing color by the second.
You sucked your teeth, carelessly tossing the piece of toast on your plate, all hopes of trying to get your friend to fill his belly. No matter what you offered, Ron refused. This was unexceptionally unlike him to decline the chance of enjoying a delicious meal. You’ve seen him get nervous before, especially during exams season, but never like this before.
Ron ran his shaky heads through his ginger locks, looking frantically around the Great Hall for a chance to escape. He would rather be in detention with Professor Snape than waiting for the first match of the Quidditch season to start. It seemed as if his classmates' support and kind words of encouragement didn’t make him feel better either. He gave everyone a weak smile, nausea displaying all over his face.
You were desperate to help your friend. You understand anxiety and the tolls overthinking can affect a human’s mind. It always seems impossible at the moment to overcome it until you eventually calm down and collect yourself.
You watched as Ron sunk lower in his spot. Any lower, he would curl right up into a ball. He sighed, snagging two apples from the fruit bowl in front of you, instructing Ron to stand up and follow you.
He blinked a couple of times, confused as to where both of you were going, but as you swung your leg over the bench, he scurried his way over to you. You didn’t say anything as you led him out of the Great hall and rounded a couple of corners until you reached an isolated area.
You sat against the windows ledge, motioning for Ron to do the same. He slowly stepped closer to you until he perched on the edge, staring at your face until he began to pay attention to the outside world.
It was a somewhat cold morning, a breeze dancing lightly around the branches of the tree. Leaves were creeping from a gorgeous green to a burnt yellow, an indication that the fall was approaching. You breathed in, wet grass filling your senses. It was a tranquil moment, the sounds of nature filling in for the silence the two of you displayed.
After a minute of remaining mute, you turned towards Ron, extending your hand out to reach his. He glanced down at his lap, light pink tinting the tips of his ears. You watched as his pupils dilated, waiting for your next move.
“Ron, I’ve watched you go through so much already. From thick through thin, I’ve experienced it all. I know how talented and brilliant you are. Your worst enemy is yourself, Ron, and you need to start believing in yourself as much as I believe in you,” you spilled.
Ron stared at you with parted lips, not expecting to hear your inner monologue. He looked to his side, looking defeated. He squeezed your hand, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.
“You’re right. I know I can do this. I’ve been practicing almost every day. I’m ready for this moment. I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Ron admitted sheepishly, not used to confessing how he felt.
You nodded, giving him a soft smile. “You can never disappoint anyone, Ron. Because we all see, especially me, how hardworking you are. You’re going to step out onto that field, mount your broom, and defeat the Hufflepuffs by a long shot,” you giggled, earning a chuckle from him back.
You reached into your pocket, handing him the apple. “Now eat, you seriously need your energy for this match. You spent all of it looking like you were about to hurl slugs again,” you joked. He bumped his knee into yours, giving you a stern look as you promised to never bring up that incident again.
“Thank you, honestly, I really needed this talk,” Ron said with a mouth full of apple. You smiled wide and leaned over, your lips brushing his cheek.
“Of course, Ron,” you smirked, his cheeks matching the color of the apple.
“Anytime.”
#ron weasly imagine#ron weasley smut#ron weasly x reader#ron weasley#ron weasley headcanon#draco malfoy#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#harry potter oneshot#harry potter text post#harry potter au#quidditch#quidditch match#gryffindor team#gryffindor#fluff#ron weasley fluff#hufflepuff team#hufflepuff#ron weasley angst
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Solid x Reader Barely Bothered 2
contains limey content
Word Count: 1940
-
I made it downstairs to the front door of the base as I saw the captain standing there. Captain Nozel started at me with a blank face of confusion, seeing that I was the only one here when it’s supposed to be me and Solid.
“Hello, captain Nozel.” I gave him a small wave with my normal emotionless face, pretending like I didn’t just knock his little brother out moments ago by sucking the oxygen out of his lungs.
“Good morning, Y/N. Where’s Solid?”
Oh shit. I didn’t think he would ask me that and I don't have a lie to tell him… fuck.
“I don’t know… but when I saw him in front of my door, he did look a bit malnourished… he then passed out and I kissed him to see if he would wake up but he didn’t so Nebra is probably taking care of him…” I lied with the same expression on my face, hoping that my captain wouldn’t think of anything suspicious from me.
“Oh… malnourished? I wouldn’t say malnourished… he ate like seven lamb chops last night.” My captain casually said.
Seven lamb chops… for one meal… chile… these royals are something else. That isn’t my business but I hope he isn’t planning to eat me tonight. I will be empty. But it’s not like I’ll let him touch me anyway.
“Oh… well maybe he had food poisoning…” I said aloud, pretending to think.
“That may be it. I believe you on Solid passing out so I’ll let you go on this mission yourself. I think that you are strong enough to go by yourself.” He continued.
Wow… he believed me? But what if he goes check?
“Thank you, captain.” I bowed at him.
“No need to thank me. You worked hard. Besides that, your mission isn’t really that much, all you need to do is kill a giant serpent before midnight in the town of Hel.” He finished before flying away.
Oh really? Cool.
I made a transportation spell using my earth magic then started to migrate to Hel, the town that wasn’t far from the royal capital. I think that this mission should be quite easy to do. Killing a giant serpent shouldn’t take long nor should be much to think about.
Timeskip!
I just finished killing the giant serpent that the captain told me about. It didn’t take long nor did it take me to use that much mana. All I did was use an earth spell of mine and then it got cut in half and the purple blood started oozing out of it. Poor serpent.
It was time for me to go back when I suddenly felt sleepy. I was confused about why I felt so sleepy all of a sudden when I’m not anemic nor do I have any other sickness.
Why do I feel so sleepy? Was it Solid when I made out with him? No… I didn’t taste any type of poison, I only tasted fresh mint. Or was it an odorless poison only used when transmitted from mouth to mouth?
So many questions are running through my head right now I don’t even know what’s going on. I might just find a tree to fall as sleep at so I can lay my head there; that might be a very stupid and idiotic plan of me but my alerts on are on high senses even when I’m unconscious so I knows going on.
I moved my slugging body towards a large tree and sat down beside. I felt my eyes give into my craving for sleep and drifted off.
I just hope that no one tries to take advantage of my sleeping state or there will be another death caused by me.
All of a sudden, I heard footsteps approaching, I don’t know who it was but I hoped that they were just passing by and not wondering what a woman was doing sleeping in the forest.
“So you think you pull such an act on me and act like nothing happened? Oh, Y/N... you’ll be in for such a big treat tonight.”
Timeskip!
As I am still in my sleep, the feeling of the tree behind my back is no longer there, instead there is a more of a comfortable and fluffy comfort feeling supporting my back. At this, I carefully open my eyes to a room that I am not familiar with at all.
I looked around to see decorated green walls and paintings. I know for a fact that this is not my room, someone must’ve taken me when I was asleep.
Did I get kidnapped? No… this must be the room of a noble or royal- wait… No… don’t tell me… FUCk!
“Good evening, Y/N.” I heard a familiar sadistic voice from beside me. When I turned around, I saw the familiar figure of Solid sitting down on his sofa, giving me that same sadistic smile.
“So I’m guessing that it was you who brought me here while I was asleep?” I asked him with a dead look in my face.
“Correct.” The blue-eyed boy simply replied, still giving me that same smile.
I let out a huge sigh, wondering how my life has gotten so difficult since I’ve joined the squad even though the only problem was Solid himself. He has just made me so annoyed and uncomfortable for God knows how long. If I really think about it, Solid is probably the only one in my existence of living who has broken me out of my emotionless self in a bad way.
I looked down to see that the only thing that has changed from my appearance was that my Silver Eagles robe was gone, everything else was the same. I was a bit surprised by this because I would’ve expected him to strip me completely, knowing how thirsty this boy is for me.
“Why’d you only take off my robe? What were you trying to do?” I questioned Solid. Instead of an answer, the silver-haired royal lets out a chuckle instead.
“I was trying to make you comfortable while you were sleeping, so I was going to change you into one of my shirts but, if I did that, I would’ve completely forced myself on you and that wouldn’t have been good for you nor me so I only took off your robe.”
Well thank goodness I woke up in time. It would’ve been an ugly sight seeing him on top of me, doing whatever he pleases.
“Damn… you really are a sucker when it comes to me, huh?” I let out a groan, not giving him any eye contact right now because of a blush which was plastered across my face because of how embarrassed I was. I don’t know why I was embarrassed because that comment is really fucking perverted. But, should I even be surprised?
“Ha! You are very correct…” I heard Solid laugh, making me look at him. “I am a horrible sucker for you but, can you blame me? You are probably the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, you have the perfect body and the perfect personality. Anyone with common sense would fall for someone like you…” He continued his statement. My face started sweating and began to become more red. I swear, this sadistic bastard will be the end of my emotionless phase.
“I get it… is that what you want from me?” I wondered aloud looking at him with dead eyes this time, seeing if he would get what I’m saying.
“”That?” What do you mean by “that”?” Solid gave me a weird look as he walked over to the bed.
“You know… sex…” I said.
Solid lets out another chuckle but this time it sounded like it had more sadistic and evil intent in it.
“I don’t just want to use your body as my pleasure tool… I want you.” Was all Solid said before climbing on top of me and connecting his lips to mine, automatically using his tongue against my lips, foring my mouth to open.
“Wha-” I was quickly interrupted by our lips fully connecting by the pressure of him pushing himself on me. I felt Solid harshly grab my right leg and put it around his lower back all the while he was still making out with me. His tongue was completely dominating my mouth and lips as I sat there, underneath him, taking advantage of my confused state.
“Come on…” I heard him groan against our lips. “Kiss me back with that same energy you had earlier… take my breath away once more. Make me want to crave you...”
Well, his wish is my command. I will gladly do so.
I used most of my strength to flip our positions so that I was on top of him. I had a full look of Solid’s flushed face, the sound of his pants, and the small sadistic smile on his face. I could tell that this was going to be a long night for the both of us and at this point, I don’t even mind. I have now changed my opinion on this sadistic royal who had broken my emotionless personality; I find his love for me quite creepy but at the same time, I find it very adorable of how much he is a sucker for me. Maybe if I give him a chance I can find a soft spot in his heart.
A small smile finally plastered across my face at Solid’s facial expression. Mindlessly, I snaked my left hand down towards his stomach before it reached his crotch, I felt his phallus touch the tips of my fingers as it twitched.
“I will gladly take your breath away, Solid Silva.”
…
“Wow…” I heard Solid pant as he flopped his body onto mine. “You were incredible…I’m guessing this isn’t your first time?” I heard Solid ask me as he pulled the covers over our bodies.
“No… It’s not.” I breathed out my last few pants before sighing.
“Damn it… I was hoping to be your first…” I heard Solid groan aloud, playing with a few strands of my hair.
“Yeah…about that... my ex-boyfriend was a loser so I broke up with him not so long ago. He didn’t phase me or break my emotionless personality at all so I ended our relationship. And he wasn’t even that good in bed.” I replied, looking up at the ceiling, ignoring Solid’s weight on mine.
“Oh… Was I good?” Solid asked me with an innocent smile on his face.
“I guess. I don’t really experience sexual attraction anyways. It’s not that big of a deal but if you want an answer then I would say that you aren’t bad at all.” I answered him, now looking out the window.
“Heh. That makes me happy.” I heard him chuckle as I just gave him a small smirk in return before focusing my attention on the evening sky which was on top of the Royal Capital.
“Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you mad at me? I finished inside you…” I heard Solid mutter before turning his head the other way. I felt my heart drop to my stomach before realizing something.
“It’s okay. Like I said, I had recently broken up with my boyfriend and I’m on birth control. The effect is still working.” I answered him, yawning out of relief. I felt Solid move over to me, I felt his arms embrace me tightly, I gave in and hugged him back.
“I love you so much. Will you be my girlfriend?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
-*end*
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