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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

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Hi! I'm resenting a request, but if you want to do it in an ask format I'm fine with that too.

Male Reader and Tim Drake have been doing a 3 day long "all nighter", to do research on a cold case. With Reader's brain cells basic dead at this point, lays on his stomach, resting his head on to Tim's stomach and wrapping his arms around Tim's waist. Ending up falling asleep, with Tim just trapped in his arms.

Tim walking up Reader later, and confessing he has feelings for Reader!

- OwO

Tim Drake x male reader

Headcanons

Been a while since i wrote something cute like this, so this was kinda refreshing.

Whether you were a fellow hero, a student, or just helping Tim with some kind of research, pulling all nighters was common. Pulling all nighters multiple days in a row was also common, you were very proud of how good you had gotten at staying awake for longer periods of time because of it.

But staying awake longer than 48 hours was hard, as that was the point where the body started performing at a lower level.

So, when you were hitting the 72-hour mark, you were seeing double, and could a barely feel your fingers, and you knew if you tried to stand up your legs would immediately give out under you and send you crashing to the floor.

Tim was more skilled than you at staying awake, so he at least was able to keep typing, even though you both knew it would be gibberish when you checked on it again later.

But even Tim seemed to be drooping, maybe that’s why he didn’t notice you placing your laptop down and shuffling towards him, until you flopped down against him.

Tim gave a small jump as your weight suddenly pressed down on him, making him lift his arm on instinct, giving you an in to crawl in closer to him, pushing him onto his back in the process.

Tim soon found himself laying down against the art rest of the couch, laptop in his hands as you laid your head on his stomach, your arms wound around his waist.

Your entire body felt like lead as you almost melted against Tim, head and limbs heavy as you sigh, letting yourself go limp and letting all your weight press down on Tims legs, trapping him there unless he used some of his hero training to kick you off, which he didn’t want to do.

You fall asleep almost immediately, not giving Tim a choice in being your pillow until you woke up. Not that Tim was complaining, since he had always kind of held a candle for you to some level.

But as you slept and Tim held the laptop above you, unable to place it down without bothering you, he realizes he can’t keep working either. So, with a sigh of defeat, he puts his laptop off to the side and wraps his arms loosely around you, rubbing your upper back.

The rubbing on your back only seems to make you melt even further against him, a soft content mumble leaving your lips as you snuggle deeper into the fabric of his shirt.

Having you sleep against him has Tim feeling giddy, but the 72 hours of no sleep is starting to catch up with him. And having you laying on top of him like some kind of sentient weighted blanket, sleep starts pulling at the edges of his consciousness, and Tim soon finds himself sinking into the comforting embrace of sleep.

The two of you sleep for a long time, as you are both so exhausted after going so long without sleep. The rest of the batfam knows not to bother someone when they are sleeping, as they sleep very little already, so they leave you two alone on the couch. Alfred does leave water bottles and snacks for when you wake up though.

Tims the first one to wake up, used to running on less sleep than you. In his groggy state, he cant help but run his fingers through your hair and caressing your face, just admiring you.

When you wake up, blinking up at him with sleepy groggy eyes, the confession of his feelings just seem to slip from him with no control, Tim barely conscious of his actions until after he’s already said it.

You chuckle a little as Tim blushes and sputters, trying to play it off as a joke. Its only when you scoot up to give him a soft kiss on his still rambling mouth that he seemed to quiet down, blue eyes wide as you lay down on top of him again, with your head on his chest this time.

“I like you too, now sleep, we both need it” you mumble, already out like a light again before Tim can fully comprehend what you had just said, his heart racing and a giddy smile on his face when it hits him.

Tim gives you a squeeze, but let you rest back against him when you mumble, displeased at being jostled like that as you try to sleep some more. A smile does twitch onto your lips when he kisses the top of your head and then your forehead, snuggling closer to you as he closes his eyes.

Maybe sleeping wasn’t so bad when you were with him, he could see himself enjoy it quite a lot actually. Those were the last thoughts he had before he drifted off again, still lacking a lot of sleep, and now feeling more at ease with you in his arms.

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ashsd3ad · 5 months

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# t. fushiguro — eighth world wonder.

word count: 0.8 k

tooth rotting fluff; thoughts about having a kid (toji); reader is referred to as sweet girl and it’s implied she’s mamagumi <3; this is so fucking sappy.

he thought he let it go

he was sure he had left it, everything, behind.

his pride, his feelings, they had been left to die in that wretched childhood house of his.

so why?

why was his heart racing in his chest as he laid beside her, unable to sleep?

—

lay beside me

let’s share the gloominess

hand in hand in the darkness

i feel like i’m holding my life in my fist

her face was smushed in his chest, limbs tangled in an endless knot, skin to skin. disheveled hair framed those angelic features of hers he had grown accustomed to staring at, long eyelashes gently laid on her cheeks in her apparently dreamless slumber.

her chest rose and fell steadily, soft breaths hitting his pecs, penetrating his skin and flesh, going straight to warm his battered heart.

these devils around my bed

are waiting for me to fall asleep

the room was swallowed by darkness, thoughts swirling around his tired mind. toji was never the one to ponder much about his feelings; he acted, he didn’t waste time thinking.

during some particularly silent nights though, he allowed his brain to wander, he allowed his heart to be ripped out of his chest by his own consciousness.

the reality of my nightmares scares me

a knife rips my chest apart

it’s an open heart surgery

he had promised himself to never let the muscle between his ribcage feel again, the mere thought too painful to handle. yet, here he was, cradling her body like it was made of the most precious and fragile porcelain, expertly crafted to look flawless. just for him.

with the door and windows closed

the light can’t get through

but if your caress me i can reopen my eyes

tears dry

every wound stitches itself back together

he had honestly forgotten what comfort felt like for a long time, his body and mind getting accostumed to constant stress, anxiety and loneliness, all self inflicted. but then.. she stepped into his life.

with her soft giggles, lighthearted jokes and sunny smile, and she messed everything up. every wall he’d worked so hard to put up crumbling helplessly under the weight of her gentle voice.

i promise you, i’ll learn

to not hate everything i have

both in good and bad

wether it’s rain or snow

for your name, i’ll kill.

his merciless hands had ended many lives, cold and heartless in the process, but it never came from something personal, at least that’s what he liked telling himself. he was the one who left it all behind, the small satisfaction that came with eliminating a gifted one was just a small figment of his imagination.

so why did his entire body shake in pure fury only imagining someone bringing harm to the little slice of heaven he held in his strong arms?

lay down beside me

let’s share the sun

me and you, hand in hand in the desert

but when you smile, suddenly it pours.

i know who you are

you’re splendid, like your name

such a sweet girl she was, and that’s what he always called her. his sweet girl. if toji had to be frank, it was only fitting.

saccharine voice pulling him out from far more nightmares than he liked to admit, dainty hands pulling him back to slumber, running through his unruly locks.

she was so sweet, the sweetest.

suddenly, he felt her stir in his arms, his eyes quickly darting to the digital clock on her nightstand. 3:45 am. fuck, did he wake her? were his thoughts that fucking loud?

“mhmm.. ‘ji, why aren’t you sleeping?” she said, nuzzling her face into his chest, voice still heavy with sleep.

us, a monster and a little girl

hand in hand, navigating the world

towards a new life, i’m ready

this is the ascent from rock bottom

“don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout that, sweet girl, go back to sleep” he replied, voice gruff and husky, while caressing her back in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

“why don’t you join me, mh?” she readjusted her body, face now in the crook of his neck, trailing chaste kisses all the way up to his jawline.

“don’t wanna you bein’ all grumpy in the morning" she chuckled in a whisper.

my god, what are you?

the eighth world wonder

the gods’ daughter

you who made the impossible happen

gave me my will to live back.

god she was just so fucking perfect.

his hands trailed from her back down to her waist, pulling her into him more. he needed her impossibly close, bodies melting together, never wanting to let go.

that night toji realized he’d marry her, even give her a kid. maybe he could be selfish for once, and make another little blessing for them to share.

and if the world is too small for us

we’ll redefine space and time,

us.

“yeah.. sorry for wakin’ ya doll, let’s go back to sleep, ‘aight?” he squeezed her hips gently.

i love you.

☆

this was inspired by one of my favourite songs!

listen to it here !!

| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORD, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE |

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji brainrot #toji fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #i cried #HE DESERVES RHE WORLD

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kywaslost · 10 months

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Maternal Affections - Grell Sutcliff

A/N: When I tell you I slaved over this one, I SLAVED over this one! @idyllic-affections asked that someone write this for them, and I liked the idea so I decided to give it a shot. Usually, I knock out requests or ideas in one sitting, but this, this piece took DAYS. I worked on it every day for hours and ended up falling in love with this. I really hope yall like this one! And as a reminder, I haven’t read the manga yet so I’m sure there are things in this that aren’t canon at all.

Request: fanfic writers, i NEED you all to write grell PLATONICALLY taking care of a young (16-18 kind of age range) non-binary reaper and being like a mother/big sister figure to them. just... her knowing what it's like. her knowing and truly understanding how much pain they were going through in life, how bad it must have been for someone as young as them to end up as a reaper. her making damn sure absolutely no-one treats them like that again because god knows grell is hard to handle normally; lord forbid someone genuinely piss her off. grell just taking a young lil non binary reaper under her wing, it would be so sweet.

Warnings: mentions of suicide, sh, drowning. Proceed with caution please <3

The line between reality and unconsciousness was such a blur you weren’t 100% sure you knew where you were. The last thing you could remember was sitting on the edge of the dock, looking out over the endless sea. Then the feeling of water flooding your lungs as you slowly lose consciousness. You remembered there being a warm breeze, but now you seemed to be cold. You couldn’t grasp your surroundings, floating in and out of consciousness.

Then there were voices. Your breathing stalled for only a moment, fearing you had been found before you could die. And that’s when you began assessing your physical state. You weren’t in any pain, not like you were before you lost consciousness. In fact, you felt just fine, as if you had only fallen asleep instead of attempting to take your own life. And you were lying down. Did you wash up on shore? Last you remembered, you were too far under the surface of the water to be seen.

“Well, good morning dear,” you heard someone say to your right. “You’re finally waking up!”

You stilled, unsure you wanted to open your eyes just yet. You didn’t recognize the voice, and feared it was a nurse, or a doctor, that you’d open your eyes just to see a hospital room.

“You can open your eyes, you know,” the voice spoke up again.

You slowly opened your eyes, only to groan and close them again when you were met with a bright light. Blinking back the tears that formed from the light, you rubbed your eyes and sat upright. The room you're in didn’t look like a hospital room, which made you feel a bit better, until you realized you had no idea where you were, and the person beside you was a complete stranger.

They had bright red hair, dressed in extravagant red clothing. They sat in a cushioned armchair in the corner of the small room you were in. Their legs were crossed at the knees, and they smiled widely.

“Hello, darling.” There was a slight accent to their words.

“Where am I?” you groaned softly. Looking down, you saw a thin blanket covering your legs, and suddenly you were grateful for the fabric. You fiddled with the hem of the blanket as you asked, “Who are you?”

The stranger smiled even wider, bearing sharp, pointed teeth. “Why, I am the infamous Grell Stufliff, the most beautiful reaper around if I do say so myself.” The reaper flicked her long red hair over her shoulder, looking over to you. “Welcome to HQ. You’ll be spending a lot of time here, reviewing souls and whatnot.”

You were so lost and confused. You couldn’t believe what was going on. Surely this wasn’t true. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of oxygen. Maybe you haven't died yet, but in the process of doing so. But why were you dry?

“You’re confused, that’s common,” Grell said, pushing up off of the chair. “Follow me, and I’ll explain.” She walked over to the door, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. “Coming, dear?” Snapping out of your thoughts, you pulled the blanket off of your lap, tossing your legs over the side of the bed and lowering yourself to the floor. You had no shoes, like you remembered, and you could feel the cold linoleum floor through your socks. Stumbling to the door, you followed Grell out into the hall.

“Am-am I dead?” you asked hesitantly, pulling at the hems of your sleeves. Grell turned around, walking backwards in order to talk to you.

“Well of course you are darling, how do you think you got here?” She smiled kindly, leading you into a busy room, crowded with people trying on different outfits, much like a clothing store. “This is where people go after they end their lives.” Grell beamed at the sight of red, gripping your hand suddenly to drag you over to them. “Now, first thing’s first, a uniform. Most reapers wear black, but really you are allowed to pick whatever you like.” She let go of your hand to flick through the various tops, taking one off the hook and holding it up to your shoulders. “Oh, red suits you so well, darling! Positively stunning!”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Um, I’d prefer a different top, please.”

Grell frowned, but nodded understandingly. “Aw, alright. I’ll help you, and explain more about why you are here.”

As Grell helped you look for a new outfit, she also explained why you were with her, as well as what you are now. She explained the purpose of reapers, what to expect on the job, and the works, such as death scythes and the death schedule. You didn’t say anything, just taking in her words as you tried on various articles of clothing.

You didn’t understand how you could feel so calm. You’d think waking up in a strange place with an unknown ‘human’ beside you would freak you out, let alone finding out you’re now a supernatural being. But death does that to someone, you think. You already felt safer in this new environment than you did back when you were still living.

It wasn’t until you were dressed in your new clothes and led back down the hall that Grell asked for your name.

“Oh, I’m such a terrible woman!” She shrieked dramatically, falling onto you as you walked beside her. You pushed her away quickly, uncomfortable with her touch. She was still a stranger. “I haven’t asked for your name!”

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking at the ground and shrugging. “Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

And it was now that Grell finally took in your appearance. Your slouched posture, as if you were trying to hide within yourself. You let your hair fall into your eyes, and avoided eye contact. You wouldn’t say much when you spoke, and had such a soft voice it was hard for ehr to hear you sometimes. It left her wondering how old you were.

She decided to back off a bit for the rest of the night, calming down in hopes of making you feel more comfortable. She helped you pick out the perfect pair of glasses, and even recommended death scythes. In the end, she had finished walking you through the beginning steps of becoming a reaper, and it was beginning to get late into the night. Grell was growing tired, and she could see that you were as well.

“Every reaper is assigned a trainee from time to time,” she explained, leading you to yet another unknown location. “So each reaper is assigned a housing unit with spare rooms for the trainees to stay until they become fully-trained.” Grell smiled as she pushed open another door and led you inside. “Welcome home! Mi casa es tu casa, as they say.” She opened yet another door, revealing a decently sized bed with a small closet, and even a desk tucked away in one corner. “This will be your room for the next few months. Make yourself at home!”

The next week passed too slowly for your liking. You learned more and more about becoming a reaper each day, and to be completely honest, you didn’t mind becoming a reaper. Sure, you were lonely, and it looked like a tedious job, but it seemed much better than the life you had when you were living. At least here, there was some understanding of pain between everyone.

You wouldn’t admit it, but having Grell by your side almost 24/7 really helped. She trained you hard. Enough to challenge you and leave you sore, but not enough to hurt you in any way. Every night, once you both returned home, she would make your dinner while you showered and changed into your night clothes.

One night, sleep eluded you. You layed in bed for hours, tossing and turning, but you just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. So you decided to get some fresh air. Grell’s apartment had a small balcony, with the entrance in the living room. So you snuck past Grell’s room, hearing her snores from the hall, as you slipped into the living room and out into the balcony. There wasn’t any furniture, so you settled in the corner, leaning your head against the railing.

Breathing in the fresh air, you closed your eyes, letting the gentle evening breeze caress your face. There was a slight chill in the air and you shivered, curling into a tight ball.

“Darling, what are you doing out here?” You jumped, not hearing the balcony door slide open. Shooting your head up you saw Grell standing in the doorway, blanket draped over her shoulders and another one bundled in her arms. “Mind if I join you?”

You didn’t say anything, only moving your feet slightly so the reaper could sit across from you. She leaned over you, tucking her second blanket around you before sitting in front of you. She let you sit in silence for a moment before speaking again. “Is something troubling you, dear?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “I’m sorry.”

Grell smiled kindly. “There’s no need to be sorry, love. Would it make you feel better if I stayed with you?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Please?”

“Of course, darling.” Grell took this moment to analyze you again. You looked so young compared to the other reapers-to-be, and you were so quiet. The more she thought about it, Grell realized that she really didn’t know much about you. She only really knew your name, not your age, or how you died, or what caused you to become a reaper.

“How old were you?” Grell asked quietly, also leaning her head against the balcony railing.

“Hm?” you hummed, raising your eyes to meet Grell’s bright green ones.

“When you died. How old were you?”

There was a moment of hesitation before you answered. “18. I was 18 when I died.”

Grell inhaled sharply. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to die so young.”

You shrugged, closing your eyes again. “I did. I deserved to die. But it’s ok, it’s nicer here.”

Grell placed a comforting hand on your knee. “No you didn’t. No one deserves to be pushed to kill themselves so young.” She received no response, and that’s when the reaper realized that you had fallen asleep. She sighed out of grief for you. She didn’t know how you died, or what pushed you to do so, but Grell had grown fond of you over the past week.

She could never have kids of her own, but she felt so protective over you in this moment, so motherly towards you. So much so that she carefully picked you up, carrying you back to your room and tucking you in. Stepping out only long enough to grab a pillow, Grell returned to your room, making a make-shift bed on the floor beside your sleeping form.

Two days later and you were running off of no sleep. You’d spent the last two nights staring at the ceiling, not daring to sneak back out onto the balcony. By the second day, Grell could notice that something wasn’t right. You were much quieter than usual, and your movements were growing sluggish.

The reaper quietly made two cups of warm tea, bringing them to your bedroom during the early hours of the morning. Knocking softly, Grell slowly opened your bedroom door. As soon as she entered your room, however, her heart sank. Your back was towards the door, but that didn’t stop her from hearing your quiet sobs as you cried into your pillow.

“Oh, darling,” she said quickly, rushing over to the bed. Grell lowered herself to sit on the bed by your hips, then placed the two mugs of tea on the nightstand. “It’s alright, dear. I’m here with you.” She rubbed your back gently as a means of comfort, letting you cry ‘til your heart’s content.

When your tears were reduced to soft hiccups and stuttered breaths, Grell spoke again. “What’s troubling you darling?” she asked softly. “You can talk to me, you know?”

You sniffled, moving so you were laying on your back. Grell brushed the hair from your eyes. You looked like you wanted to speak, but you wouldn’t say anything. With a sigh, you pulled your blanket up to your chin then sat up, leaning against the wall behind you. “I thought that once I die, I would be ok. I wouldn’t have sleepless nights or anything to worry about. I’d be dead.”

“Oh, love,” the reaper cooed. “I understand how you feel. I was once in your shoes. It’s hard to understand the supernatural world while also coping with memories of your past life.”

Tears welled in your eyes again but you refused to let them fall, wiping them away with your sleeve. “Haven’t I struggled enough? I mean, it was so bad I had to kill myself, wasn’t that enough?” You hid behind your hands as you began to cry again. “I suffered for so long, I just wanted it to end.”

Grell slid to sit beside you against the wall then wrapped her arms around you, pulling you against her chest. You let her hold you, stroking your hair and whispering comforting words into the crown of your head. She held you like she’d hold a small child afraid of the monsters under their bed.

While rocking you back and forth slightly, your sleeves slid up just ever so slightly. Grell expected as much, the scars on your forearms showing just how much pain you were in in your past life. She had them too, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her seeing your scars. When you noticed her green eyes staring at your arms, you quickly pulled your sleeves back down, crying harder.

“Honey, it’s alright,” she cooed. “You don’t have to hide them, I have them too.”

After what felt like years of crying, you lay against Grell and she ran a hand through your hair. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact you felt so comfortable with the reaper at the moment, you began telling your story.

“Drowning,” you muttered into Grell’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that dear?” she asked quietly. “I couldn’t hear you.”

You repeated, “Drowning. I drowned myself in the river.” Grell’s grip around you tightened. “I’ve always loved water. It’s so calm and I feel like everything will be ok. It’s a nice distraction. So I drowned myself so I could finally have peace.”

Grell was silent for a moment. “I know you may have talked about it when you were living, and it did nothing to help you, but you’re here now. Whatever, or whoever, hurt you is not here anymore. So if you’d like to talk about it, maybe you can finally put it behind you. And if you tell me, maybe I can help you, dear.”

You rubbed your eyes, putting your full weight against the red-head. You then proceeded to spend the next two hours spilling your life story to Grell. You told her about anything and everything, from how you were treated by the world, to how you felt about yourself. You told her about the time leading up to your death, what your thought process was and how you were feeling during that time. The best part was the fact that she didn’t judge you in the slightest. She only held you firmly, rubbing your back or running a hand through your hair.

By the time you finished your tale, you were practically asleep in her arms. There was so much she wanted to say to you, but she couldn’t bear to wake you, and she couldn’t decide what she’d even say. So she just continued to hold and rock you, resting her head on your own. She was definitely keeping you home for the day. There was no way she was going to risk the other training reapers hurting you, either physically or emotionally, while you were in this state.

For your remaining life as a reaper, Grell took you under her wing. She was unbearable most of the time, you learned after speaking with William once. But you learned how to handle her and her crazy personality. After officially becoming a reaper, Grell requested that she be paired with you, and you with her when either of you were scheduled to work. And when she wasn’t paired with you, she’d follow you, hidden within arms reach at any point in time.

When you were given your own apartment, you were lucky enough to be next door to your favorite reaper. You were still young, afterall, and didn’t fully understand how to live on your own in this new world. You still spent a few nights a week at Grell’s place, especially if you had a particularly hard day or weren’t feeling well.

Once, Grell caught wind of some of the newer reapers talking about you and how you dressed. Oh boy, they began praying real quick when they saw Grell storm over, chainsaw propped up on her shoulder. Needless to say, those reapers were out of commission for a while, and Grell came home so pissed off you had to force her to go on a walk with you to cool off.

Now that she knew your whole story, and just how young you were when you died, Grell kept an eye on you at all times. If you had a bad day and she knew before you came to her, she’d make sure she makes your favorite food for dinner, as well as have your favorite warm beverage on hand. Her quest room was always prepped and ready in case you wanted to stay with her.

If you had to be gone for long periods of time due to work, she’d clean your apartment and do your laundry, making sure everything was clean by the time you returned home. Grell saw you as her own personal child, one she couldn’t have on her own. So she made sure to look after you and take care of you in any way she could.

#platonic #x reader #comfort #black butler #black butler x reader #fluff #black butler comfort #black butler fluff #black butler fanfiction #black butler grell sutcliff #grell sutcliff #grell sutcliff x reader #grell sutcliff x reader platonic #grell sutcliff comfort

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mrwavellswaps · 1 year

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A Life He Never Had - Part 1 (Son’s POV)

➡️ Father’s POV ⬅️

I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to this. Just a month ago I was young, hung and shredded with a fit as fuck girlfriend. Now I’m old, fat, hairy as fuck and no girl whatsoever… And it’s all thanks to my body thief of a gay dad!

It all started a couple of months back when my 51 year old dad finally came out as gay on his birthday after being closeted for so long. Suddenly his and moms divorce made a hell of a lot more sense. Yet everyone, me included, supported him and was happy that he was finally embracing his true self. Little did I know this was only the start of what was to come.

After this my Dad and I would occasionally have chats about how he wished he’d had the strength to come out earlier so he could’ve enjoyed his youth more. Saying things like people my age are lucky to live in a time where we don’t feel as though we have to hide who we are. Of course I’ve never had to, being straight and all, but I certainly understood where he was coming from.

“You know Son. Some days I just wish I could be your age again so I could give myself a real shot at young love and all that.” He said to me one day and at the time I just disregarded as my dad having regrets. But looking back I wish I hadn’t…

Some time after this the two of us were having dinner at his place as we usually did on a Friday night. It was like tradition at this point. Sometimes we’d have some other people round as well like my girlfriend or one of my aunts or uncles. This time however it was just me and Dad. He’d whipped us up some spaghetti and meatballs which was amazing as always before suggesting we sit and watch the game in the living room. He even got us both a couple of beers to drink as we watched… only the more I drank, the more tired I felt. It wasn’t until it was already too late that I started to catch on. My dad had slipped some kind of sleeping powder into my beer!

After that everything was a blur. I was fading in and out of consciousness as he put my arm over his shoulder and walked me to his bedroom. I can’t remember much more than that other than him tilting my head back and pouring some weird liquid down my throat. I think he drunk some as well but it was hard to tell. Either way I blacked out fully after that.

The next thing I felt was dream. A very lucid one at that. I was in the deep, endless void that was lit up by beams of light in the sky that somewhat resembled the northern lights. I remember looking down at myself to find my smooth muscular body fully naked and on display but before I had any time to process I heard someone calling me. Whipping my head around I saw only a could of feet away was my dad. Needless to say he was just as naked as I was which would’ve been more than enough to make me look away in embarrassment had I not suddenly felt my body freeze in place the moment I locked eyes with him. We stared at each over for a moment until a smirk broke out across my dad’s face. He reached out an arm and the very second it touched my chest, our visions flipped. Suddenly I was looking through his eyes, using his hand to touch my former chest. I was looking back into my own eyes with terror as he only grinned at me with glee. And then it all faded to black.

I found myself waking up the next morning and feeling very… off. Blinking my eyes open I looked around to see that I was in my dad’s bedroom for some reason. The events of the previous night hadn’t quite come back to me yet until I sat up. I instantly noticed something was extremely wrong. Not only was I on my Dad’s bed but I was wearing his clothes and my body… even under the shirt and jeans I could tell it wasn’t mine. Honestly I was afraid to look but I had to. I grabbed the underneath of my shirt and pulled it up to reveal something that made me scream in horror. A big hairy gut! But not just any gut. My Dad’s big hairy gut! My suspicion was only further confirmed as I inspected the rest of furry, out of shape body in a panic. I swear I almost had a heart attack when I felt the lack of hair on my head and the thick beard.

By this point I pretty much knew what had happened but I refused to believe it. Even when I looked into multiple mirrors and my Dad’s phone camera to see non-other than his middle-aged face. My world only truly came crashing down when I heard a knock at the door…

“Hey Dad. How’re you liking your new body.” I spun around upon hearing my own voice and what I saw was something impossible. It was me. My body. And if I was in my Dad’s body then that could only mean…

“What the fuck is going on!? Dad is that you?! Why the hell do I look like you!? And why do you look like me!?!? And… what the fuck are you wearing!?” I shouted frantically as he simply sipped on a freshly made cup of coffee.

“Oh this?” He said pointing down at the extremely revealing underwear. “It’s just a little something I picked up weeks ago. Thought it’d look good on this body is all. And damn was I right!” He claimed before turning around and giving what should’ve been my ass a swat.

I was in complete and utter disbelief. Somehow my own father had stolen my body overnight and was now parading around in it like it was his own. Needless to say I blew up at him, demanding that he fix this shit right now and get me the hell out of his body and back into my own. Yet through all my theatrics he stayed frustratingly calm before just flat out denying.

“Sorry kiddo, I’ve been planning this for the better part of 2 years now. Even if I did wanna swap back with you, the stuff I used is a one time thing. Once you swap there’s no going back.” He said as he made his way over to the mirror I’d just been freaking out looking at simply to admire his young 23 year old body and features. “So I suggest you get used to being a fat old man while I turn this body into the sluttiest gay this town has ever seen.” When he said that I had half a mind to beat the shit out of him right there but seeing my own face and body controlled by someone else was too jarring and off putting. Instead I just watched as he smirked at me with such smugness before strutting out of the room and leaving me to come to terms with this new reality.

Since then my life has felt like an endless nightmare. Every morning I get up with the aches and pains of a middle aged man, feeling distraught seeing my Dad’s face every time I looked in the mirror. Part of me also hated how hairy this body was and I would’ve shaved it all off had I not been worried that doing so would only make my fat all that much more obvious. That’s why I couldn’t help but feel an intense streak of jealousy whenever I saw my “Son” walking around the house almost naked just to show off his young fit body.

I resented him even more when he started to change my body for himself. Before all this I’d always kept my face and body perfectly clean shaven as a lot of chicks, especially my girlfriend, preferred smoother guys. That in mind I didn’t mind shaving often if it meant I got to taste my girlfriend’s pussy almost every night. But now that he’s in control of my body he stopped shaving all together, letting my body hair sprout again and even allowing a small beard grow in. I doubt my girlfriend would be much of fan, not that it matters since he broke up with her the first chance he got. “Sorry Dad but this dick ain’t going anywhere near a pussy ever again!” Is what he said to me after he told me about the breakup.

Since then he’s been living here and it’s been absolute hell. I’ve had to watch him bring a new guy home almost every before leading him to the bedroom. After that I can’t even bare to listen. I just either plug my ears with headphones or turn up the TV volume so I don’t have to hear him violating my body with another man. Even then he would still end up telling me about it afterwards. Saying how good it felt to finally get his hole stretched like he’d always wanted in his youth, even if it used to be mine…

I’ve tried to accept this new life but it’s hard knowing all that I’ve lost. At this point I just wish I could have a hot girlfriend again but I’d probably need to find a girl with serious daddy issues if I wanted to get one that was young like my old girlfriend. And even if I did my new dick is old and like half the size of the one I used to have. Safe to say I didn’t get that from dad… speaking of I think I can hear him now. He always likes to leave his bedroom door open when he decides to start pleasuring himself just so he can tease me that little bit more.

God I hate this so much. I hope someday I can find a way to reverse it…

#magic #potion #male body swap #male body theft #identity theft #father and son #permanent #hairy #dad #jock #straight to gay

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kaseyskat · 9 days

Text

i know naddpod c2 eldermourne isn't nearly as popular as other dnd shows but i am pspspsping my followers with this silly little vignette... the sapphics got me bad im brainrotting so hard its so over for me hahaha anyways please enjoy some soft post canon fiarina

"Psst– hey, Fi, wake up."

Fia rolls over, groaning as she is stirred back into the world of consciousness.

She definitely does not feel rested; she can imagine it's only been a few hours since she was nudged into sleeping by a well-meaning Henry. Mister Henry had really taken to his newfound captain position, and though Fia had rolled her eyes at him when he told her that she needed to put her book down and actually sleep, she makes a mental note to thank him later as she rubs her eyes blearily.

In the dim haze of her darkvision, she sees a pair of bright eyes staring down into her, framed by silver hair that nearly glows in the darkness. Even now, after all of this time, it takes her breath away. Fia cannot be upset that she's been prematurely awoken when this is the sight that greets her.

"Is it morning already?" Fia rubs at her eyes, carefully sitting up with a sleepy groan.

"No, no, not yet, but you have to see this." Irina does not seem at all remorseful for waking Fia, and she takes Fia's hand sooner than Fia can process the words, tugging her upwards.

Now that she's more alert, Fia can vaguely make out the sounds of Mister Henry snoring away across the room, and she thinks she can see an outline of someone that might be Mister Zirk, if only because of the shape of the blanket pile in the corner. Almost spitefully, she is glad that she was not the only one that Mister Henry had to corral into sleeping tonight.

Meanwhile, Irina hasn't even changed into sleeping clothes– she is still wearing her patchwork cloak draped around her, still wearing a set of Zirk's trousers and one of Fia's shirts because they haven't had the time or means to get her any of her own yet. They've only been on this trip for a few days, and Henry estimated it would be a few more before they reach the next town on the river for supplies– though, shamefully, Fia is glad that the trip would take this long, if it means Irina gets to wear her clothes for a little while longer.

So lost in her own thoughts, she barely protests when Irina guides her to her feet, and then all but drags her out of the sleeping quarters, up the stairs and onto the main deck of the ship. They had docked for the night so that they wouldn't have to sleep in shifts, which means its far easier for Fia to stay steady on her feet as she is led over to the starboard deck.

Finally, Irina sits down, and she pats the space next to her. Fia drops without a second thought.

"Now are you going to tell me what you brought me here for?" she asks amusedly, even as she glances down at the place where her hand is still intertwined with Irina's.

Irina waits a moment, fidgeting in place with what can only be excitement, and then she points up to the skies. "Look!"

Fia glances up.

Stars streak across the night sky. The legends say that these shooting stars are blessings of the Trickster waving down upon the mortal realm; sometimes, Batilda would bring Fia out to watch meteor showers, telling her about how they were a sign of good luck, that the humans of old times would make wishes upon the stars as they fell in hopes that the Trickster would answer their prayers and grant them their heart's desire.

Fia does not really believe in that story anymore, especially when she knows that the Trickster no longer walks the mortal plane and would not return. Still, she can understand Irina's delight.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Irina says in wonder, and when Fia glances at her, she is staring at the sky with the stars alit in her eyes, an awestruck smile on her face. "I have never gotten to see the shooting stars in person before, this is amazing."

"Beautiful, yeah," Fia agrees, but she is still staring at Irina.

Irina unclasps her cloak, fidgeting with it as she turns it sideways so that she can drape it over Fia's own shoulders. "Here, we can share," she says, and she finally looks away from the stars, catching Fia's gaze. Her cheeks flush a brilliant shade of pink, and she manages a small, sheepish smile. "It is very cold tonight."

"You know I am not bothered by the cold as easily as you," Fia tells her, but she uses the cloak as an excuse to lean in closer, tentatively curling an arm around Irina's shoulders so that they both fit under the fabric. "You know, in the old legends, people could wish on the stars when they fell across the sky."

"Yes, I've heard that legend as well!" Irina laughs, and she drops her head onto Fia's shoulder, curling into her side. "What are you wishing for, Fi?"

"I don't know what I would wish for," Fia admits, and she glances up at the stars as they fall across the night sky. "I already have everything I want right here."

Irina makes a weird noise against Fia's shoulder, but she doesn't say anything else– just clings tightly to Fia's hand, draped across her side, nestled in her cloak as the meteor shower continues.

When morning comes, Henry finds them both fast asleep on the starboard deck, cuddled together and peaceful.

#kasey writes stuff #naddpod c2 #naddpod eldermourne #fia boginya #fiarina #the way i don't know irina's tumblr tag #naddpod irina #this is probably not gonna be the only fiarina fic i write btw #the hyperfixation is hyperfixating

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saorikuhara39 · 1 year

Text

Jun 2023 Special Feature: My Life, My Rules feat. Satan, Simeon

Jun 2023 issue of B'sLOG translation Special Feature: Do Not Violate! My Life, My Rules feat. Satan, Simeon [PLEASE DO NOT REPOST]

What is important in your life?

The important things, the essential stuff, the rules一 Our exclusive Q&A will reveal their important rules, which can be said to be their beliefs! Here’s a special interview program that will help you learn more about them in depth.

SATAN

① Please tell us 3 of your own “Rules” that you think is important in your daily life. Read books, play with cats, and make time for yourself. I would definitely want some time that will not disturb me…… Anyway, it’s not unpleasant if it’s ‘them’ that came to disturb, so I wouldn’t mind. ② Tell us something that you think is absolutely not allowed. Dare to make disrespectful remarks about cats in front of me. I’ll **** and **** your ****. ③ Please tell us your own rules and daily routine that are necessary for an everyday “small happiness.” It’s about gaining new knowledge. Whether it’s a chapter or a paragraph, it makes me happy to know something I didn’t know before. ④ Do you have a motivational message for those who feel unsure about living “their way”? The answer to who you are is not something you go somewhere to look for, or someone will tell you. It’s something that can be found within yourself. However, there could a hint found within a book. The words that benefit you will catch your attention, so why don’t you take a look at the bookstore first?

SIMEON

① Please tell us 3 of your own “Rules” that you think is important in your daily life. Sleeping and waking up early, having three proper meals a day, and light exercising… I guess. Sometimes I make a morning call to 'them’ instead of an alarm clock. I’m looking forward to hearing their voice in the morning, so I ended up waking up earlier than usual. ② Tell us something that you think is absolutely not allowed. Hmm…… I think there’s a reason for everything, and I can’t think of one in particular… Oh, I can’t forgive someone if they hurt someone I care about. Is it a bit different from 'my own rules’? ③ Please tell us your own rules and daily routine that are necessary for an everyday “small happiness.” I guess it would be about tasting tea. It’s my habit to delve into something. For example, what kind of process and how many people are involved in making this quill pen? So, when I drink tea, I just want to relax…… I make a point to spend that kind of time consciously. ④ Do you have a motivational message for those who feel unsure about living “their way”? I don’t think you need to think too hard. If you choose what you feel comfortable about, then when you look back, you’ll be your 'own way’. If you want me to listen to you, you can come to me anytime.

#おべいみー #obey me #obey me jp #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me translations #saori k translations #translation #translations #b'slog #b's-log #bslog

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maelstroms-blog · 1 year

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Another dabble, this time Hob shows Dream the delights of going to sleep.

The lord of dreams lay wide awake, how ironic. He lay in the, albeit, comfortable double bed, staring up at the ceiling. Though the room was shrouded in darkness, he could clearly make out the pattern in the light fixture above him.

He sighed, glancing over at his partner. Hob lay on his back, shut away from the waking world and fully immersed in the Dreaming. A sudden pang hit Dream in the chest.

Jealousy.

Watching someone else experience his creations filled him with pride but sometimes he wished he could experience it for himself. He had only ever admitted this to Hob.

He smiled that smile of his, the one that crinkled his eyes and said,

'Well, why don't you?'

Dream blinked.

'Sleep like a human.'

As the silence grew, Hob's smile dipped slightly,

'Do you know how?'

Dream let out a scoff,

'I am the embodiment of the collective consciousness, king of Dreams and Nightmares, of course, I know how.'

Hob looked at him,

'But have you?'

Dream's unblinking gaze wavered, only slightly, but Hob noticed. Hob always noticed.

'I thought so, come with me,' he held out a hand, motioning him to follow. Dream looked at it, the way a king would scrutinze an offering.

The king accepted. The pale, slender hand fit nicely into Hob's calloused palm. They made their way towards the bedroom, Dream quirked an eyebrow,

'Again, Hob Gadling? My, your stamina is to be admired.'

The Dream king would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Hob's reaction. His cheeks flushed bright red and he spluttered a bit before speaking.

'No, my darling, dear, not that, we're trying to relax.'

Dream smirked, watching as Hob opened his wardrobe and pulled out pair after pair of pyjamas,

'Take your pick, duck, I have a decade's worth of pyjamas. Everyone seems to give them out at Christmas.'

Dream only half listened, thumbing through each folded set, his frown growing deeper and deeper.

Hob chuckled, 'Not to your liking, huh?'

He pulled out a rainbow pair of joggers,

'Oh, great, I was looking for these,' he shucked the pair he was wearing, much to Dream's amusement. Then, his eyes found a dark pair, navy cuffed joggers, dotted with silver stars. They were soft, like the clouds he hung in the Dreaming, or Hob's hair.

'Oh, if you like those, I have just the shirt to go with them.'

Searching through the pile, he found another dark item. A blue shirt, large, it would have swamped Dream's thin frame, and on the front, a picture of a large, fluffy cat, sprawled on its back.

'Guess why I bought this one,' Hob smiled, Dream accepted the shirt, never taking his eyes off the cute image.

'These will suffice.'

After he changed, and allowed Hob to take a photo on his mobile telephone. He subjected him to a warm bath, complete with overpowering bath bombs. Hob couldn't stop marvelling at his fluffy, towel dried hair. After that, Hob offered a hot chocolate, though Dream claimed it was too sweet, it didn't stop him from drinking the whole thing.

Once they were situated in Hob's bed, and Dream had been buried in every blanket Hob owned. He went through the step by step process of going to sleep. He lay down flat, pulling Dream to his side. They chatted for a while, about nothing, about everything, and then, with a sigh and a snore, Hob entered the Dreaming.

Leaving Dream behind.

He huffed, trying not to take offence, but it was hard not to when he was left alone, with his thoughts. The darkness suddenly didn't feel so comforting. Dream sighed, the weight from the blankets weighed heavier and heavier on his chest. He thought of all his responsibilities, the duties he was neglecting while he lay there, pretending.

This is foolish, Dream thought, he should just leave and return to the Dreaming, he would find Hob there and explain to him.

Just as he shifted, trying to remove the mountain of blankets, a warm hand sneaked around his waist, effectively pinning him there. Hob, still fast asleep, had turned and burrowed into Dream's side. His face nuzzled into his neck, his breath hot against his skin. This close, he could smell all of Hob, the scent of old books, leather and lavender from their bath.

Dream looked at him, memorising every line and wrinkle in his partner's face. He sank back into the blankets, staring at Hob until his eyes closed.

He yawned, all thoughts of escaping vanished from his mind.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #ferdinand kingsley #tom sturridge #dream x hob #neil gaiman #the sandman comics #dabble #writeblr #criticism welcome

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elementary-my-dear-daddy · 2 months

Note

A lil request, if you're feeling up for it!

sub Logan, who really needs to take a break from working. Mr. Self-Care (dom Janus) catches wind of his precious nerd not caring for himself, and thus decides to help him.

Cue some combination of edging, sounding, and demeaning praise that makes Logan beg and whine and cum so hard he cannot think anymore. Maybe Janus helps clean them both up and some aftercare happens?

Kinda long ask, sorry. Hope you have fun with this!

- 🥒

Safe and Sound(ed)

Lociet (Logan and Janus)

Warnings: Edging, Sounding, Dom!Janus, Sub!Logan, degradation, praise, butt plugs

Read it on A03!

Summary: Logan needs to take better care of himself, Janus knows just how to make him.

“Lo?”

Logan snapped awake at the sound of his name. His neck ached as he lifted his head from its previous resting position on his desk. He glanced at the doorway, noticing Janus leaning forward on his cane and analyzing him with a worried stare.

“You fell asleep?” He hummed.

Logan rubbed the side of his face as he gradually adjusted to his sudden consciousness, “Yes, just for a bit. I was editing-”

“Do you know how long you were asleep for?”

“What?”

“Certainly more than a little nap, judging by the fact that you were still up at 4 in the morning, and that it’s now almost 11. I’d say someone hasn’t been taking care of himself.” Janus teased the last part in a sing-song rhythm as he walked in the room and shut the door behind him.

“How did you know I was up that late?”

“Remus tattled on you,” He pulled Logan’s desk chair out from his desk and spun him around to face him, “Don’t worry, he’s already been suitably punished for waking me up at that hour to tell me.”

Logan was still processing waking up. He stared up at the deceitful side with exhausted eyes behind slightly crooked glasses. His hands twitched to get back to his task, but the thought of having to work through yet another unfinished idea made him want to collapse on his bed. Janus saw this and tutted, going to sit down on the edge of Logan’s bed.

“Logan. You know better. Come here.” He patted the spot on the bed next to him.

Logan didn’t have it in him to argue. Accepting his fate, he stood and slumped into Janus’ side on the bed. The other side was warm and inviting to his too tired body, and when he was guided down to rest his head in his lap, he couldn’t resist.

“Awake at such an hour. You know, I’m starting to think maybe you’d want to be punished. You know your rules, darling.”

Right, his rules. Janus loved to use their power dynamic as a way to get the others to take better care of themselves, his argument being that if his toys didn’t take care of themselves he wouldn't want to play with them. This more or less led to an improvement in self-care across the sides, but Logan was the most stubborn in breaking these rules. He would avoid sleep and meals in favor of his work, and his dom was sick of it. Janus was going to make sure the lesson stuck this time.

Logan shifted so he was sitting up, staring at Janus with a tired expression again, “Jan-”

“Uh-uh, Color?”

“Green.”

“Good. You’ll nap until you’re completely rested and when you wake up we’ll begin, understood?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good boy, now rest.” Janus hummed and pressed a kiss to his cheek, right before sinking his teeth into the skin of Logan’s neck and injecting a sleep-inducing venom from his fangs. Logan gasped from the pain, before his vision dimmed and he fell unconscious on his bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan woke up to the sound of someone flipping a page in a book. He opened his eyes and saw Janus sitting at his desk flipping through a novel and tilting his chair back and forth as he waited. He went to sit up, but found himself unable to get his arms underneath him since his hands had been cuffed to the bed frame. He pulled at his restraints, earning Janus’ attention when the chain connecting the cuffs made a loud clang as he tugged them against the metal of the frame.

“Well,” Janus peered at him, setting his book down on the desk, “How did you sleep?”

“Why am I handcuffed?” Logan asked. Now that he was awake, he also realized his lack of clothing underneath the blanket that was covering up his body, “And naked?”

“Don’t you remember dear? It’s time for your punishment for breaking my rules. You know you shouldn’t be staying up so late to work, and now you’ll have to pay for it.”

Logan blushed, “I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“Save me your excuses.” Janus said as he stood, “No matter how many times I punish you for it, you still seem to disobey me. Just last week I had to edge you for skipping a meal. Two days ago, I had to spank you for working for 4 hours straight with no breaks. Now this.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Logan said, embarrassed by his own behavior. He casts his eyes down to avoid Janus’ judgmental glare.

“We’ll see about that.” He sat down on the bed and pulled the blanket off Logan, exposing his naked form. He ran his hand over the other’s chest, earning a shiver from him.

“How am I being punished?” Logan questioned, biting the inside of his cheek as Janus’ thumb rolled over one of his nipples.

“A little edging.” Janus teased.

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’ ?”

“Your tone indicates something else.”

“Well I don’t want to ruin the surprise!” Janus hummed, “You know that’s half the fun.”

“For you.” He muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Janus removed his hands and conjured up a bag full of all kinds of devices he loved to torture his subs with, pulling out a small bottle of lube that Logan hadn’t seen before. He wasted no time removing his gloves and putting a dollop into his palm. A cool sensation enveloped Logan’s cock as he stroked it, but it was quickly turning into a pleasantly warm heat as he moved his hand over his length. Logan let out a soft moan at the touch.

“How does that feel, love?” Janus asked, teasing the head of his dick

“Ah, good, sir.”

He chuckled darkly, “Good. Enjoy it while you can, slut.”

Logan sighed at the pleasure he was given. Janus managed to work him up easily, but once he was completely hard, the hand was removed. He thrust his hips up in an attempt to chase the feeling until Janus pressed him down into the bed with his forearm.

“Ah ah, just wait, no moving.”

Even with Janus stopping, the warm tingling sensation still enveloped Logan’s cock. He moaned softly at the sensation still stimulating him while the other prevented him from writhing around on the bed. He desperately needed more and let his desires be revealed with a soft plea.

“Sir, please, I’m sorry just- fuck- please touch me!” He whined.

Janus simply watched him, “But you look so needy! You’re so agreeable when I edge you, I could make you do anything if it meant I touched your cock after, hm?”

“Yes, anything, please.”

“So you’ll let me plug you up, use you however I want?”

“Yes.”

Janus shrugged and rifled through the bag again, “If you insist, I think I might do just that then.”

Logan looked over at what items the other planned on torturing him with, noticing some of their more frequently used toys like the butt plug he’d been made to wear most of the day last week. He didn’t recognize the thin metal rod Janus twirled between his fingers elegantly before setting it down beside him on the bed, nor its exact purpose. He would've asked if not for the warmth that still surrounded his cock and kept him hard and needy.

Janus vanished the bag once he had everything he needed and turned to see Logan writhing in his arousal.

“Sir, fuck, please use me!”

“Why don’t we stretch you first?” He offered. Grabbing the same bottle of lube as before once the sub nodded at him to go ahead. He moved to kneel in between Logan’s legs before pouring out more of the liquid onto his fingers and dipping them down to his entrance. Logan whined pitifully at this, begging for Janus to hurry up. He was soon rewarded with a single digit entering his hole, slowly stretching him. He added a second and third before replacing them with the plug. Logan hummed once it had been inserted, feeling full and content for the time being.

Janus smiled at the satisfied look on the other’s face, “Does that feel good?”

Logan nodded, his tired mind lost in the feeling.

“I bet. We’re halfway done, then.”

Logan’s mind wasn’t exactly able to fully process the comment, but he knew something was off. Was Janus about to gag him? Use his mouth for his own means? What else could that mean?

He soon found out as Janus pulled out that long metal rod again. It looked something akin to a medical instrument, but in his state he couldn’t exactly determine the use. When the other put a dollop of lube and ran it along the shaft he started to vaguely put the pieces together.

“S-Sir?”

“Hm?” Janus hummed.

“What is that?”

“This?” He held up the rod, a bit of excess lube threatening to pool at the end and drip off as he displayed it, “This is a sounding rod. It plugs you up all nice so you can’t fully come until I take it out.”

“It’s going in my cock?”

“Doesn’t that sound so delightfully torturous?” Janus responded with a big smile on his face. He touched the end of it to Logan’s tip, dancing it around the sensitive skin, “Color, Lo?”

“Fuck, green.”

“Good boy. Now just stay still and take your punishment like a good slut.”

Janus teased the sounding rod across his dripping slit, eliciting a soft moan from Logan once again. When he actually lined it up and began to press it in, the other let out a cry at the oddly arousing feeling. Little by little, Janus let his cock swallow down the length, allowing him to adjust to the feeling before making him take more and more. Logan felt so incredibly full just when he’d taken about half of it, he didn’t know if it was possible for him to take the whole thing. That was until Janus started to stroke and massage his dick as he moved the rod in further. He became lost in the overwhelming sensations, only able to let out weak gasps and groans occasionally. Finally, the base rested against his head as Janus slowly stroked him.

“Just look at you, taking your punishment so well!” Janus cooed, “How does that feel?”

“S-so full, ah~!” Logan gasped.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes! Yes, feels good!”

“I know, sweetheart, so nice to be full. I think I’ll just toy with you a little bit longer before I let you come from this.” Janus said. He did exactly that, teasing Logan by toying with both plugs at once. He’d pull out the rod half-way before letting go, allowing it to sink back down on its own, which drew out a long mewl from Logan. Then he’d play with the butt plug keeping his hole stretched, rocking it in and out repeatedly, just barely giving the other enough stimulation.

Janus reveled in the power he held over Logan, the other completely at his mercy and taking what he had to give. He gave yet another grin knowing that he was the only one who could properly reduce him to the mess laid out before him. He didn’t keep him this way for too long, just enough to properly tire him out and make him regret his actions from before. Perhaps he’d repeat his mistake, as he so often did (much to Janus’ disappointment), but for the time being, he’d be satisfied with his temporary repentance.

“Please please please Sir please let me come- ah- I… I need to!!! “ Logan screamed as the sound rod sunk into his cock once again, preventing his release.

“Hmm.” Janus hummed in deliberation, “I could…”

“PLEASE.”

He shrugged, gripping Logan’s dick in a tight hold, “If you absolutely insist.”

He pumped his shaft with the hand currently holding it while easing out the rod bit by bit. As he did, Logan felt his orgasm bubbling up. Janus waited, resting the tip of the instrument just at the head of his cock, preventing him from tipping over just yet. Logan whined, high pitched and needy, begging the other for his release.

“I just wanted to see you squirm one last time. Come. Now.” Janus pulled the rest of the rod out and watched as Logan’s orgasm crashed over him. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his body as he came over the hand that stroked his length. His muscles tensed from a well earned climax, little aborted thrusts into the other’s hand the only control he had over it. He pulled at the cuffs until the pleasure, as well as Janus’ touch subsided. When his orgasm finally ended, he was left panting from exhaustion.

“Such a good boy, Logan. Very well done.” Janus said, leaning over to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead, “Let’s clean up and let you make up for all that spent energy.”

The aftercare between the two lasted hours. Once Janus had the two of them cleaned up, he conjured up soft pillows and blankets for them to nap on, praising Logan for how well he did the whole time until he fell fast asleep. He stayed by his side the entire time, making sure he stayed as comfortable as possible. When Logan woke up, Janus forced him to drink his fill of water and have a snack to replenish his energy. And when all his physical needs were cared for, Janus put on a documentary that Logan had seemed interested in.

Logan smiled to himself as Janus wrapped an arm around him. He’d have to fall asleep at his desk more often.

#jamming out #not safe for sanders #nsfs lociet #fics #asks #requests

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whump-card · 8 months

Text

Sunless Lives Part 25: I Will Wait

~1580 words

CW: drugging, noncon undressing, nonsexual nudity, noncon touch, medical whump, forced institutionalization, ED mention, negative self-talk

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~~~

DR MANDAL: I’d like to know how you like the staff and faculty here so far.

M BECK: Oh, they’re great. Everyone’s been wonderful.

DR MANDAL: No trouble at all?

M BECK: None.

DR MANDAL: That’s good to hear. What about the other patients, do you like your roommates?

M BECK: Sure, they’re alright.

DR MANDAL: No issues?

M BECK: We all wake up with nightmares, so it’s not like it’s fair to complain about that.

DR MANDAL: So no issues, but do you like them?

M BECK: I think so. I think everyone here hates themselves so much, it’s hard to connect with other people.

DR MANDAL: That’s very observant. Would you include yourself in that?

[0:26]

M BECK: Yeah.

~~~

The intake process was terrifying. Whatever drugs he’d been given had worn off enough for Simon to be awake, but not enough for him to resist as he was manhandled by orderlies out of the car and into a hulking rock of a building - the title of Fort wasn’t just for show. He didn’t have much time to look before he was inside, lifted onto a gurney and wheeled through a dizzying maze of hallways and into a cold room. Broad-shouldered orderlies leaned over him, and started taking off his clothes. One unzipped his coat, while another sat him up. The coat was jerked over his shoulders and off, and dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Then his turtleneck was peeled off, his arms gripped and guided by strong hands. He whimpered and flinched when they touched his skin directly for the first time, and he distantly registered a laugh. His upper half was dropped back onto the gurney and they set to work on his lower half. Someone pulled off his boots and socks while someone else started unbuttoning his jeans. This sent a shock of panic through Simon, he wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t form coherent thoughts either, instead his head was overtaken by wordless waves of fear and shame and embarrassment as they pulled his pants and underwear down. A hand briefly grabbed his ass but Simon couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. Tears slipped out and ran down his temple and into his ear. He couldn’t even move to brush them away, much less stop anything that was happening. Someone whistled when his thighs were revealed.

“Bloodbag.”

“Yup.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.”

A vague figure ran a hand over his ribs.

“ED watch?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll be deciding that.”

The orderlies backed off, and a gray-haired man in a doctor’s coat took over, briskly taking Simon’s vitals and shining lights in his eyes, ears, and mouth. He manually pulled at Simon’s eyelids and jaw himself, and didn’t address Simon as he worked. Then, Simon could only lie there and watch as the worst happened: the doctor received a camera from an orderly and started taking pictures. His face. His scars. The bites. The flash of the camera left Simon blinded and dazed. The doctor barked at the orderlies to flip him over and Simon heard the camera click as he captured his backside as well. Then he was dropped onto his back again, a sheet was thrown over his lower half, and the room was suddenly quiet and empty.

His head flopped to the side on the thin padding of the gurney, mouth agape. Tears and drool slowly leaked out, out of his control. He felt disgusting. Violated. Scared. This had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way Chris would send him to someplace like this. Your boss and your friends were so very worried, Kelly had said - Gina, Amber, and Devon had had a hand in this as well. He needed to talk to Chris. This all had to be some horrible misunderstanding. It had to be.

He wanted Matthew.

He wanted to go home.

Maybe you made a mistake.

Simon drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, but was finally brought back by his stomach growling loudly. He’d lost a lot of his appetite over the last month, but even he could only go so long without eating. He found he could move his arms, and legs, and even slowly sit up. He discovered some thin, scratchy clothes folded at his feet: a long sleeved t-shirt and elastic-waisted pants, both a sickly shade of green, and started the laborious process of putting them on. He felt sick, dizzy, cold, and hungry, and his limbs moved half a second slower than he wanted them to. He had just pulled up the pants and was standing unsteadily against the gurney when the door opened. He flinched back, grabbing the gurney for support. The large redheaded orderly that entered looked him up and down.

“McKenna?”

“Yes?” Simon breathed.

“With me.” He stepped aside and held the door open. Simon tentatively scooted through under his gaze.

“Where-?”

“Left,” the man ordered.

Simon started walking to the left down the hall, but his legs wobbled under him and he staggered into the wall. The large man caught his upper arm, gripping it hard enough to bruise, and dragged him along.

“That hurts, you’re hurting me,” Simon pleaded. No response. “Where are we going?” Nothing. They passed by more doors and under more fluorescent lights, as well as beady-eyed cameras mounted in high corners. The surveillance reminded Simon of Lara’s house, and his heart pounded. He stumbled to keep up. “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday, can -”

The orderly abruptly stopped and slammed Simon into the wall, pinning him there with an arm across his chest that knocked all the air out of Simon’s lungs.

“Don’t ask me for shit,” he growled, “Don’t ask anyone for shit, just do what you’re told, and shut the fuck up.”

Simon nodded, gasping for air. The orderly held him there for a long, threatening moment, clearly enjoying the power trip. Then it was back to being dragged.

After a few more confusing turns, they passed through a heavy security door and into an open room with round tables and scattered chairs, occupied by a handful of other people in the same green outfits as Simon. Orderlies were dotted around the room, observing as patients drew in coloring books and played checkers. It reeked of mildew and sick. Cameras stared from every corner.

“Don’t make any friends,” the redhead whispered in his ear, and released his arm. Simon staggered a couple steps forward, clutching at his aching bicep. Some of the other patients turned in their seats to watch him with languid curiosity.

Simon hugged himself tightly, breathing fast. He didn’t know what the orderly’s warning meant. He didn’t know what to do. He looked around the room in desperation and his heart leapt when he saw the back of someone in pink scrubs - a nurse, not a patient or orderly. The pink reminded him of Tammy at the clinic, and how kind she’d been. He wove through the tables to where she was talking to another patient.

“Excuse me,” Simon tapped her on the shoulder, “I just got here, I don’t know what’s going on, can you help me?”

She turned around slowly, her thin eyebrows high.

“Okay, number one, do not touch the faculty or staff,” she lectured.

“Oh, sorry, I -”

She snapped her hand closed in front of his face.

“Ah-ah! I don’t want to hear it. Who did your intake?”

“I didn’t - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Do you know your room number?”

“N-no.”

She huffed.

“Fine, I’ll look everything up for you. What’s your name, do you at least know that?”

“Simon. McKenna.”

“Thank you.” She strode away, ponytail bouncing, and exited through a security door that she opened with a keycard. Simon watched her go, pressing his knuckles to his mouth.

“That’s Linda,” said the patient she had been talking with - a very tall, very skinny man hunched over a hand of cards. Two others sat opposite him, an older man with a significant tremor and a boy younger than Simon, barely an adult.

“You don’t want to mess with her. I’m Chett, you wanna play cards with us?” the skinny man twanged, and grinned black and yellow teeth in an eerily familiar way that made Simon shrink back.

“S-sorry, no thank you,” he stammered.

“C’mon, sweet little thing like you needs friends!” Chett cajoled, but Simon was already backing away. He found a mercifully empty table and slouched down in the slippery plastic chair to wait for Linda. His heart thrummed and his eyes darted around the room at the other patients still giving him sidelong glances. None of them looked particularly friendly. The orderlies, on the other hand, looked downright hostile. They were all large men, some even larger than Matthew, and they glowered down over the patients like a bank of storm clouds.

Matthew. Simon felt tears spring to his eyes again. Hopefully wherever Matthew was sent was better than this. He put his head down on the table, sheltering under his arms. His mind replayed his last moments with Matthew. Their last kiss.

I’ll come get you.

Only a little while.

It’ll be okay.

You fucking idiot.

Regret started to bubble up in his stomach.

Shouldn’t have gone to the clinic.

He winced at the thought. Matthew, the real Matthew, was back and alive, and he was regretting that?

Worthless.

You deserve to be here.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sunless lives #sunless lives arc 3 #cw drugging #cw noncon undressing #cw nonsexual nudity #cw noncon touch #medical whump #cw forced institutionalization #cw ED mention #cw negative self-talk #my writing

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dragonsarecool · 2 months

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Febwhump Day 27 - Left For Dead

A/N: Needles' hatred for Marty goes one step too far. Set prior to Part I.

The asphalt beneath his cheek was uncomfortable.

Wait, why was he on asphalt? That's a road, isn't it?

Why am I on a road? I'm not a car. I'm not even a skateboard. I am a skater boy...

He flexed his hands, feeling the corrugated surface slide beneath his fingertips.

There was something odd about the road that he couldn't understand. Last time he checked, roads weren't meant to be slippery. Or sticky, for that matter.

Maybe I'm in a pile of oil?

Or a water puddle. A puddle sounds nicer, I think.

He experimented with the substance beneath his fingertips. Not only was it sticky, but it felt suspiciously warm against his delicate skin. Maybe it is oil after all…

His body was being turned over, and a gurgle of pain bubbled in his throat as he landed on his back. Something was pouring copiously out of his mouth and he involuntarily gagged. Am I dying?

A breath entered his lungs, yet nothing happened. That got his attention. Air air air I need air oh my God-

He felt his head being turned to the side, the mystery liquid slowing down as it dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. A wet series of coughs was quickly followed by an uncontrollable urge to vomit. The smell was enough to bring him an inch closer to lucidity, though he knew he was still missing pieces of the puzzle.

He was now conscious enough to register the series of voices whizzing around his head. It sounded like a couple of men, though he didn't trust anything his brain was trying to process at that moment.

"Did you call an ambulance, Steve?"

"Yeah, I got the Burger King kids to do it. Told them the kid looked dead so they should be here any minute."

"Christ, what do you reckon happened to him? Hit and run?"

"Nah, I think he's been targeted. Look at how misshapen his nose is; a car couldn't do that."

"But he's just a kid, Steve! Who the hell leaves someone this bad?"

"Young people, apparently."

"Poor kid. Reckon he can hear us?"

"Doubt it. He's prob…"

He decided that floating in the void was nice.

There was no pain, no noise, no foul tastes in his mouth. It was a pretty nice place to chill.

If anything, he was thoroughly pissed off when he heard the voice again. "Marty?"

For God's sake, people, let me sleep! This is a damn good nap I'm having…

"I know you can hear me, Marty. Hearing is the last sense to go, and usually the first to return."

Wait a minute…who is that? You sound oddly familiar.

"If anything, Marty, you need to wake up so you can tell us which bastards did this to you."

It was as though a switch in the depths of his brain had been flicked. Images and sounds came flooding into his mind's eye, even though most of them were still a bit foggy. His emotions came to life; a combination of guilt, rage, exasperation and fear, all flaring to life at the same time.

Doc! Oh my God, Doc! How'd I forget your voice?!

Damn, I must've hit my head really hard this time-

Needles!

It was Needles, that son of a bitch!

Wait, why was I talking to Needles in the first place? I don't remember being at school today. Is it a weekend?

Why can't they just leave me alone? I don't do anything to them!

The throbbing inside his skull was getting worse.

He felt nauseous.

Someone was ranting about a high heart rate.

Doc, you better go get that dickhead for me.

Wait.

He didn't hear any of this, did he?

Dammit…

Every time he opened his eyes and saw the pristine white ceiling, he kept having to remind himself that this wasn't the afterlife.

Though it wasn't hard to believe he was on the verge with the damn tube down his throat.

He'd found out from one of the nurses that he'd been in a coma for three days, and that he'd surprised everyone when he regained consciousness earlier than expected. Whether that meant they didn't expect him to wake up, he didn't want to know.

The specialists had come around that morning and explained they'd be trialling him off the ventilator tomorrow. It was the most uncomfortable sensation he could possibly think of; all he could taste was disinfected plastic, and he gagged violently if he forgot to relax and allow the machine to do its work.

He gazed at the doorway, disappointed to see it was once again empty. He'd seen more of the medical staff than his own family. Whether he was supposed to be disappointed or grateful for this, he wasn't sure, but he would've liked to have at least seen his mom.

I'll pretend they came by while I was out.

All he knew was that every time he shifted his gaze, he would see Doc perched in the visitor's chair. Sometimes he had fallen asleep in an awkward position, others he was buried in a fancy-looking journal. But he never failed to squeeze Marty's hand and distract him from the pain with updates and prattling on his latest projects.

There was so much he needed to tell people, yet that information would remain trapped in his throat as long as the ventilator was in place.

How Needles and his gang had ambushed him on the way to Doc's lab.

How they'd stomped on his neck and squashed his trachea while stabbing him with broken glass.

The mini-blackouts he'd experienced as the brass knuckles made contact with his face and crushed his jawbone.

The whoops and cheers that had filled his ears while he was drowning in his own blood.

For now, he settled into the warm comforts of the hospital blankets and slightly-understuffed pillow. Gives me more time to choose my words, I suppose.

#bttf #back to the future #whump #fanfiction #febwhump #febwhump24 #febwhump2024

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soospiritualjourney · 10 months

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What led me to this moment now

I have felt not felt the need to openly share the following until now.

Looking back on my life, I can see where I came from. I saw myself as a young girl totally afraid not knowing how to deal with what’s going on, not having anyone to guide me.

Though the eldest of 3, I was a quiet and timid child. I remember episodes when I'd cry at the slightest things that happened and constantly felt a sense that no one understood me. I'd wake up at night feeling a grippling sense of loss. I’d crawl under my parents’ bed in order to go back to sleep.

I had recurring dreams of bus terminals, of sitting on a tree branch (seeing only my hands and arms), staging wars with zombies, and waddling in swimming pools. I also have dreams of drowning in unknown volumes of water and deja vu visions of moments in real time. I see illuminations of beings in my dreams.

As I grew older, sometimes when I was about to fall asleep, all of a sudden, I'd hear someone shout into my ear. In the wee hours of the morning, I would wake up feeling like death was sitting nearby waiting to take me and panicked. On some occasions I'd get this whiff of what smells like rotting flesh following me. I tried whatever I could do to keep that which I do not have explanations for at bay. I retaliated with anger and rage.

Whatever I was experiencing were never processed or talked about. I was part ashamed, part afraid of being different. As I learned to grow past and through painful experiences, each of these experience unknowingly became a spiritual lesson for me. They brought more and more of illumination into my life.

As I begun to develop my spiritual connection, I can see the uncoiling happen - the tightness and rigidity, the hard knot inside me begun to loosen up consistently over time. The ropes of fear was not tying me up in bonds as I walk around in life. In its place there was light, freedom and trust. I begun to trust myself. The trust begun to grow so most of the time it surpasses the fear I feel inside. When I feel fear I quickly tune into my intuition to get solace so my life is not dominated by fear.

I begun to understand that whatever I heard or otherwise wasn’t the devil or something evil in or outside of me. They were messages from the divine reaching out and communicating with me. I saw signs - feathers in the most unlikely of places, on my work table, in my car, between my feet at a swimming pool. I saw frequently repeated synchronised numbers on my phone 1111, 1414, 2222 etc. I notice birds and butterflies around me or outside windows on high floors.

So I grew from a frightened child into a woman who is confident of my abilities, who is not motivated by that primal fear, gaining a strength and a precious belief in myself. This is something I hope for you too as you begin your spiritual journey, that this trust and faith can permeate your being.

You’ll get a sense of how strong you really are and how layers of tension can be replaced by light and how you can expand to the potential of who you are and be of service whenever you possibly can. I strongly believe it can offer you liberation. The stirring of our souls is essential for us to be vibrant and happy beings here on earth. There is no beginning and there is no end. It is all is just a continuation of spirit. Being part of this flow, we can find peace and encouragement so that we can be radiant beings and live that and be everything we possibly can as human beings.

We have to put our foot down and make the commitment. We have to make our path and journey a priority. We only have this time on this earth and to spend it running away, using substitutes to avoid pain and suffering is a waste of our human potential. When we work on the highest timeline and consciousness of our being, we as well as everyone around us benefits—even the people we had to say goodbye to.

It is a choice, every single day.

#spiritual journey #energy work #self awareness #growth mindset #mindfulness #emotional strength #healing #consciousness #energyhealing #spiritual awakening #higherconsciousness #higher frequency #higher consciousness

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candied-peach · 8 months

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ao3: "shake, rattle, and roll" rating: T genre: hurt/comfort warnings: romantic LAMP, seizure aftermath, nonbinary virgil description: alternatively: Virgil has another lesson in impromptu break dancing before waking up on the floor. (lyrics are from watsky "seizure boy")

The first thing that happens is the world goes black You just hear a little snap when your neck rolls back You don't bite your tongue off, or foam at the lips And before you hit the ground there's a moment of bliss

Consciousness returns to them in an unsettling wash of colors and light. Virgil looks up at the ceiling, their eyes blurry as they slowly realize they're on the floor and someone is talking to them. Oh. That's right. Patton-

Patton is there, voice thin with worry. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He asks. Virgil listlessly tries to shrug. Only one shoulder properly moves. Fuck. They concentrate, but their right foot can't even muster a toe wiggle.

"Your mouth is drooping again, love," Patton murmurs. "Can you move your arms and legs?"

"My left ones," Virgil says in an exasperated mumble. If the concern in Patton's eyes wasn't a dead giveaway, this would be. They've had another seizure and ended up on the floor. Their head throbs painfully. They slowly curl their left thumb up in a familiar gesture. Their head is simultaneously stuffed full of cotton wool and set on fire.

"So am I stuck here?" Virgil asks weakly. It's hard to talk with one side of their mouth drooping but they manage, trying to make it out like it's a joke. They have to make it a joke, or they might cry, and that sounds far too painful right now.

"Until Roman and Logan get home," Patton admits reluctantly. "I'm sorry, darling. I just don't want to chance dropping you."

"It's okay," Virgil says, mustering a very lopsided smile. This new symptom- after effect? whatever you would call it- is so annoying. It doesn't usually last terribly long, but it's so inconvenient when it does, and it always worries Virgil that this time, somehow, it will be permanent. It isn't supposed to be. Todd's paralysis isn't supposed to last that long. Hours, really. Maybe even a couple days. But you never want to end up the textbook case study, do you?

Even temporary, it always spikes Virgil's anxiety. They hate feeling like a burden, and that's exactly how they feel right now. Patton props their head up in his lap, gently carding his fingers through Virgil's purple-dyed hair. They need to re-dye it soon, they've got a lot of fresh growth, although they kind of like the look of their roots against the faded purple.

"Do you know what happened?" Patton asks carefully. Sometimes Virgil can remember. Sometimes Virgil has awareness through the seizure, although it's not...it's still impaired, they've discovered, no matter how much it feels like it's not.

"I think..." Virgil trails off. "I dunno," they finally admit. "Probably some tiktok or somethin'." It's hard to talk. Patton seems to notice, because he remains quiet for a little while after that, letting the soothing motions of him carding through the soft strands of Virgil's hair lull Virgil almost to sleep.

A key in the door rouses them, and they look up with bleary eyes from the floor to see Roman and Logan stepping into the hallway. Roman stops short when he sees Virgil sprawled out on the floor, head in Patton's lap.

"Seizure," Patton murmurs, filling the two of them in. "And-" He gestures at Virgil's right side. Understanding dawns in Roman's and Logan's eyes.

"I'm sorry, flower," Roman says softly. "I imagine you've had more than enough time on the floor."

"Nah, thought I'd just live here," Virgil mumbles, as deadpan as they can muster.

It's a painstaking process, getting Virgil safely off the floor. They help as much as they can, considering their left side works just fine, but it's still a blur, a whirlwind of movement and a blinding rush through their head that makes it swim until they're ensconced on the sofa, surrounded by their partners.

"Can you move your toes yet?" Logan asks gently. Virgil concentrates, a frown pulling down the other side of their mouth, then sighs.

"No," they say, grumpy. Patton squeezes them closer.

"That's okay," he says. "It will wear off, it's okay."

"What if it doesn't?" Virgil blurts out. "Sorry," they add a second later. Tears burn their eyes. "I just-" They would shrug properly if they could. They don't know how to share their fears right now, not when it's still going on, not when they don't know when it will end. If it will end. It should end. They have to cling to that and hope for the best, but it's hard. They've read the anecdotes, the stories of people having lingering weakness or other problems. Epilepsy is a bitch and it's one that Virgil desperately wishes they didn't have to deal with. Not now.

"It will be okay," Roman assures them. "No matter what happens. We'll figure it out. Together." Virgil swallows hard.

"Thank you," they whisper. "Love you."

"I love you, too," the three chorus in unsteady unison, before sharing rueful smiles. Patton returns to gently scratching Virgil's head.

"No matter what happens," Patton repeats, a quiet, steady promise that gives Virgil a soft, burning coal of hope, buried deep in their chest.

"No matter what," Virgil mumbles, eyes slipping closed as rest beckons them.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #romantic lamp #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil #patton #roman #logan #virgil has epilepsy in this and so do i #sanders sides fics #📚#ok to rb #peach writes

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princessnotfound · 11 months

Note

😱🫁

😱 Shaking 🫁 Ribs/Lungs

T/W // Whump ahead ! ! ! (little blood mention)

(7/7)

His skin is too hot to process that they are no longer touching him; his body is burning up, in spite of the Devil’s hour bringing chilled winds with it, battering against his bare skin. Through darkened, broken vision, George notices the slightest movement. The scuffling of shoes in front of him. Soft chattering and devilish laughter and his own hushed weeping. Barely holding onto the fingertips of consciousness with his warped, destroyed hands. Begging it silently, please don’t let me go.

Trying to dig his nails into the cracks of the pavement and drag himself out of the alleyway, but the slightest bit of pressure against his shattered fingers sends violent jolts of pain up his arms. His attackers don’t seem to like his failed attempt. A forceful kick tips him onto one side, and another blooms dead flowers atop his stomach, robbing his lungs of all his air. Bruising isn’t enough for the insatiable appetite of heartless devils – he knows all too well, they want to see him bleed inside and out. Until his skin is as vermillion as the imps that ride their left shoulders.

George hopes to whatever divine being that he is hallucinating when he hears another faint crack, when someone’s shoe collides with his side – they may not have his faith, but he would devote his time and belief if they would only just save him. Prove the hand of their benevolence and give distribute the karma of the damned.

These bruises will stay behind for quite some time, that much is simple. No amount of makeup will conceal the ruptured blood cells beneath his flesh. His torso will be lit aflame and his skin will be dyed crimson, for the following months. Beauty flees him. No longer wanting to home a vessel so terribly damaged. Trembling from the frigid cold, from the constant ache, from the fear that the next time he blinks, his eyes will refuse to reopen. There is a final kick to his back and everything stops.

Only momentarily. Fingers comb through the messy remains of his hair and tug his head up to meet the eyes of someone he has never met nor wronged before. Cruelty. George’s face is slick with sick and blood. He hears them clearly this time, even if his eyes roll and slip into darkness, spat hate is vivid as ever, “not so perfect now, are you?” They drop him. His head collides with the floor hard enough to knock him out cold.

In a mess of his own making. Akin to a crime scene. Footsteps shift into the distance and leave death in their wake.

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redheartwriting · 2 years

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Origins - Chapter XIX

[CW: Suicide ideation]

<champi1612> *Rose slices through another pillager, blood spurts, staining his face, his hair. This has been the worst one so far, almost double the amounts of raiders, and it almost seemed like they were determined, hellbent on getting /something/ out of it after so many failed attempts at the village. They were ruthless, to Rose and Quartz and to themselves, they threw their men at the two, wave after non-stop. Rose doesn't even have the time to breath, not even process who or what he's swinging his sword at, not even stopping to mercy kill the dying pillagers, the moment he's seemed to manage to strike one down, another ten is charging his way. Rose raises his sword, just in time to block an arrow flying towards him, but immediately is jumped by three vindicators seconds later.* /Fuck./ *Rose knows he's in a bad spot, there's no cover to his back, but the more he desperately tries to pushes them back, the more dangerous his position become. Too preoccupied and distracted, he didn't notice a desperate charge from a pillager behind him. A loud thud, Rose feels something wet and warm at the back of his head, and moments later, everything goes black.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz is themself surrounded, and separated from Rose. They spin into another attack, slashing some poor bastard's throat out. They pant a bit, having already been exhausted. This was, by far, the worst one they had dealt with so far. And neither of them were fully healed or even prepared, since the cowards attacked in the dawn, when both of them would be asleep. Quartz turns at the sound of Rose's voice, but they can't see him. They breathe hard as they try to fight through evokers and vindicators, ignoring the bad hits they're taking. But then they hear Rose yell. And it does distract them, long enough for someone else to jump on them. Hit with the blunt end of an axe in the temple, Quartz falls to the ground, rapidly losing consciousness. Through the legs of the raiders, they can see them- no* R-Rose... *It would have been a desperate, loud cry. But they were too weak even for that. Still, they struggle, they try to reach for him, they plead in their own language for the dragon to spare him. But their hand hits the mud as they can't fight it anymore. It all goes dark. And the last thing Quartz can think is that they /lost/.*

<ProcellaCor> *It's night when they wake again, to the feeling of paws on them and the sounds of worried chirping. Quartz opens their eyes, feeling like hell, to see their beloved fox trying to wake them* Ginger... *they smile weakly* Come on, at this hour, go bother R- *they cut off, sitting up suddenly. Rose. /Rose/.* No, no no nonononono- *they whisper, scrambling to their feet. It was a nightmare, it had to be, they wouldn't have let them take him. Quartz, with Ginger following them, runs around the whole village. It seems every villager is safe, but they can't find Rose, and when they /do/ find Pegasus, they know Rose didn't just up and run again. He was taken. Tears sting their eyes as they grip with their failure, but they look back down at Ginger nuzzling their leg. They gently pick her up and carry her to the fox pen* Don't worry, I'll come back. *they pet her head as they promise her that* For now, why don't you stay with Addict's foxes? It'll be good for you to be out of the house. *Quartz heads back to said house, just to gather supplies. They will search the ends of the earth for Rose. Northeast, that's all they need. They consider leaving a note for Addict,, for anyone, but they don't know what they would tell them. It's not like any of them would know or understand why Rose was taken, or why Quartz is the one who has to go get him back. They head back down to where Pegasus is, smiling at the horse* I know I'm not your usual rider, but I need to borrow you for a bit. I'm sure Rose will be happy to see you, anyways. *Pegasus does seem to understand, allowing Quartz on his back. Quartz takes off, heading towards the direction of the rising sun and towards the direction of the mountains.* Please hang on, Rose. *they whisper it* I /will/ find you. Just hang on.

<champi1612> *Rose slowly opens his eyes, blinking at what, to him, seems to be a blinding light. It was just the sun setting outside the giant window in front of him. A giant window, a strangely decorated rooms with statues and paintings of pillagers everywhere, he tries to move, but one of his wrists has been chained to the wall, and his ankle shackled. It took him a few moments to process everything, this place, these chains, his growing pain. Rose has been captured. Oh... /He has been captured./ For a brief moment his insticnt kicked him. He struggles and writhes, stupidly trying to get out as his wings move frantically. But he soon give up, having realising that that was idiotic of him, but also partly because of the pain. Sharp, stinging pain on his body means that his wounds have been reopened, either in the fight or because of the way the pillagers manhandled him. Scorching aches on the back of his head, the blow that knocked him unconcious now has dried, crusted blood around it, clumps of blood sticking his hair together. Rose takes a shaky breath, bringing his hand to his eyepatch, fully expecting it to no longer be there, yet still, when he can feel his naked eye, Rose freezes, that's it, he's dead. He was lucky they didn't immediately gouge out his eye and leave him to die, but he's not going to get out of this alive, there was just no way. They know now, they know for a fact now that he's the one they've been looking for. /He/ knew for a fact that he's the one they've been looking for. Even if, by some miracle, he manages to escape, what is he going to do? He can't go back to the village, that is certain, not after this, not after he knows that they will come back to him, slamming every force they have at his village. They'll take the people he love, one by one, until there's none left. He can't possibly be so selfish, he just can't. Rose lets his head hang in defeat, he hopes he die, he hopes they make it quick and painless. He can't deal with the thought of leaving everything, everyone behind, but he can't deal with the thought of not. The door swung open, and two vindicators walked into the room, possibly guards that heard his movements. They cursed at him, saying something about finally finding him, something about him hiding in that village for so long, something about how stupid and pointless his selfish decisions were when he could have just run. They spit on him, they laughed at him, and in their aggression, one of them started kicking him, aiming for his vitals, places that would hurt. But Rose just silently took it all. As long as they kill him, then it doesn't really matter anymore.*

<ProcellaCor> *Finally, /finally/ Quartz has found this wretched place. They don't know how they know, but they know Rose is inside. Quartz leashes Pegasus to a tree, leaving him plenty of apples. It's been nearly a week, a week of traveling, only resting as much as strictly necessary. They unpack one of their supplies, being sure to grab a totem, knowing it could be a death trap for them too. They grabbed some potions as well, chugging them. Strength, regeneration, fire resistance, and finally they just eat a golden apple for the extra boost. They make sure Stellae is loaded, make sure Incaendia is ready, that they have plenty of arrows. They don't bother with stealth, they don't want to and don't need to. And more than anything, they hope Rose, wherever in this dragonforsaken place he's being held, will /hear/ them. Will know they're there, that they've come for him. They charge in, almost immediately causing a commotion as vindicators try to come at them. It's not a problem for Quartz, not really. They're beyond furious. They put their blade to one of their throats. Quartz has no intention of being merciful, of letting any of them get out of here alive. But they'll pretend as they ask* Where. Is. He.

<champi1612> *Rose has been thrown into the prison, tucked away in the very corner of the mansion. They haven't killed him, not yet, they're still trying to get informations out of him. As it turns out, they did wanted the power that his eye held, but they didn't really know how to use it, as documents and almost any other traits of Roguetians have been completely wiped from history. Rose kept his mouth shut, enduring days of torturing on end, watching his underfed body wasting away as the pillagers get more and more frustrated with him, using increasingly brutal method. They purposefully, and violent, rip opened his old wounds, they used /searing/ hot metal plates to burn his skin, slowly cooking his flesh from the outside. His wings, they broke each bones, one each day, that's what they threatened him, until it renders his wings completely unsuable for the rest of his life. But The Dragon remains merciless, and She let him lived through everything. He doesn't even have the strength in him to end it all himself anymore, Rose is now barely even a corpse with a beating heart.*

<ProcellaCor> *The commotion, the noise, increases and gets louder. There's angry netherian cursing, the sound of pillagers being slaughtered, of fires being started, crossbows loading and discharging. And Quartz finally gets to where Rose is. They stand under the doorway, glaring down the guards. Their beloved sword, now stained red, in their hand. They look past the guards, into the doorway to the prison, and they see the state of Rose. At first, they're relieved. He's still alive. For just a second, that's all that matters. Rose is alive. They make eye contact with him, visibly grateful. But then the state of him sinks in. Something inside of them just /snaps/.* Close your eyes, my love. *Quartz says it quietly, not sure if Rose even heard them. And they can't hold themself back any longer. They jump on one of the guards, digging their sword into his throat and dragging it down his torso. Once a brute, always a brute, and brutal indeed they are. Another guard tries to attack them, but Quartz just turns and impales him, using enough strength that they lift him from the ground on their sword. They then turn and launch the corpse from their blade, into another guard, sending him flying. It's an incredible show of strength, and a cruel lack of mercy. They're not even trying to kill or get these men out of their way anymore, they just want them to /hurt/. Hurt like they hurt them, hurt like they hurt their love. They don't have much control over their temper in the first place, nevermind in situations like this. They keep maiming the guards, hardly even killing them, just mauling them like a beast. But something pulls them out of their blind fury. Rose's voice.*

<champi1612> *Rose was lapsing in and out of consciousness, both from absolute exhaustion, and the unbearable pain. He couldn't really process what was going on anymore, the voices are barely distinguishable to him, and the words don't make sense, but he know that there is fighting, that there is a familiar voice. Rose tries to at least pushes himself up, getting somewhat of a grip of his surroundings, but all he could manage was a pathetic attempt at standing, and a low, drawn out, painful groan as his body once again tries to fight itself out of unconciousness.* B... Bitte- *Rose can't even form a proper sentence. Please, he said, please end him. Whoever that is outside, he just wishes they will show him some mercy and end him. He just wishes they didn't come here to save him.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz busts the door down, finally getting to Rose. Everyone else in the mansion is dead, and parts of the mansion are on fire. They put a hand on his face, making eye contact. His eyes are so... empty. Quartz feels their own eyes tear up* I'm here. *they put their forehead against his, just gently, just trying to bring him back to reality* I'm finally here. I found you. *they reach into one of their pockets, pulling out one of their potions of regeneration. They don't know for sure if it will help, but it can't hurt* Rose, do you think you can swallow?

<champi1612> *Rose stares at Quartz, everything was blurry, and parts of his vision seemed like it was blotched out, but he can still recognise that it is indeed Quartz, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Why? Why did they have to come? Why did they have to try and save him? Rose closes his eyes, he doesn't make a single noise, not even a sob, just silent tears of defeat. They're going to bring him back, he can't go back, but he can't even run. The tears become bitter, and Rose turns away, seemingly rejecting the potion.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz doesn't quite get it, they think Rose is out of it, not in touch with reality. They don't think he actually knows what he's doing by rejecting the potion* Sorry, sorry, you can yell at me for this later all you want, I promise *they whisper as they bring the potion to his lips anyways, holding it at such an angle that the liquid is forced down his throat. They can only hope his body will know to swallow it so he doesn't start coughing. They put the empty bottle down but they never take a hand off of Rose, always making sure they're somehow touching him. Like they're scared if they let go, he'll slip away, he'll die* I just need you back with me. *they keep their voice soft, still not wanting to scare him, not quite realizing how terrifying they must look anyways, covered in so much gore*

<champi1612> *The liquid chokes down his throat, and Rose coughs, weakly, barely. Still, he turns the other way, unable to bare the thought of facing Quartz, not after everything. After all of the torture he went through, he just wanted someone to finally come end him, but /they/ came. Rose isn't angry at them, more than anything, he's just angry at himself, or at fate. Quartz won't let him lay down and die, they won't let him run, he won't let himself run, he won't let himself stay either. He raises his hand and put it on Quartz, weakly pushing them away. Maybe if he does so, they'll go, or something.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz looks genuinely hurt when Rose tries to push them away* Rose, it's me- *Quartz glances back over their shoulder, but they know everyone in this building is dead now. They slowly take off their helmet, thinking it will help. They don't seem to get why Rose wouldn't want to see them. They think maybe showing him more of their face, their hair, their ears, /something/ will help.* It's Quartz, I- I'm here. You're safe now.

<champi1612> *Rose couldn't response, but more tears stream down his face. They keep making it harder. Rose finally looks up to them, he can't really say anything at all, but something pleading in his eyes as his hand reaches out, tugging on sheath of Quartz's sword. "Please..." He says, but only in his head. Maybe Quartz will show him mercy. Rose is desperate, and he can only hope that they will show him some mercy.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz finally gets it, what Rose wants, what he's asking them to do. They flinch backwards like he struck them, looking just as horrified* N- /No./ *Quartz can't help their tears now, cutting through the blood on their face. They take their sword from their belt and throw it to the other side of the cell, throwing their other weapons too, they don't want to give Rose the chance. They breathe hard, but then they come back over to him. They manage to free him from the binds, catching him when he falls. They slowly sink the floor with him, and they hold him* No. *They repeat themself* Don't- don't make me do that. Not to you. *they hold him tighter* If you want to die, then we can burn here together. But I'm not going to do it myself.

<champi1612> *Rose slumps against their shoulder, and he lets them hold him. For a moment, he considered struggling away, but he has no strength for that, he has no will for that. He just cries silently against their shoulders. He has to tell them to leave, he has to tell them to live. Outside, the fire was spreading rapidly, wooden beams are starting to collapse, not too long now, this place will come down to ash. They must leave, they must go home, take care of the village, take care of Addict and everyone. Rose tries to pull away, gathering his wits and what little power he has left to tell them to go.* Leave... *It was low, weak and hoarsed, but at least it was audible.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz pulls back, saddened by his request. But they gently shake their head* No. *They lean forward, kissing his forehead. More tears fall, but they smile* Te cum morior aut vivo. *They glance back over their shoulder at the approaching fire. But then they look back to him, a hand on his face, just under his red eye, wiping his tears away* We can lay here for the rest of time, if you want. But it's up to you. Whatever you do, I'm going too.

<champi1612> You... Have to... live... *Rose forces himself to get away, leaning against the wall, He still thinks that he can get them out of here, that if he tries hard enough, he can get them to leave, but he doesn't have much time.* Leave... Please... *Rose breaths out, even this is taking a heavy toll on him.* Go back... to Addict...

<ProcellaCor> Not without you. *Quartz moves with him, laying them both down. They smile at him, their hand still on his face, keeping him looking at them* Everyone will be fine without me, us, if they need to be. But I won't be fine without you. *they laugh sadly, and they take something from their pocket, slipping it into Rose's hand. They know he likely doesn't have the strength to even shove an item as small as a totem away. He probably can't even look down at it, only knowing they had put something cold in his hand. And they hold it there, so that they're both holding the totem. Quartz had brought several but well, their free hand was under Rose's face.* Close your eyes. *they whisper as the fire finally breaches into the room* I love you. *it's the last thing they can manage to say that Rose would hear. Anything else is drowned out by the flames*

<champi1612> *Rose reaches out to Quartz, putting his hand on their face, and leans in, placing a weak kiss on their lips. Is this it? Is this how it will end? Tens of thousands of years of the Roguetians maintaining their survival just to end with the last two of them here? Decades of running and surviving, enduring everything that fate forced him through, thinking it was meant to be, loathing the life he's forced to live just for everything to goes up in flames? Is this the power promised by The Dragon? Is this the happiness of all Species? Rose had to kiss them, just one more time, if this truly is the last time. His hand gently pries away from the totem, hoping that they're distracted by the kiss. He knows, of course, that totem can only be a miracle to one. And it will be to him, when Quartz survive to return to the village.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz is distracted by the kiss. Admittedly, they don't exactly want to have to think about burning to death, they know it's going to hurt. But they do just want Rose. They pull him closer, not breaking the kiss even as the fire finally takes them both. It /does/ hurt but they're okay with that. They don't even scream or cry out, they just keep Rose close. Until it all goes dark. Quartz doesn't really know what they're expecting, the dragon, limbo, the nether again, they don't know. But they just hope Rose will be there too. And that's the last thought on their mind as they die for the man in their arms yet again. Him. That they just want him.*

<champi1612> *Rose silently watches the flame engulfs them both, and he smiles, they'll live... that's all that matters, they'll live. Merciful Dragon... Thank you. And he slowly allow himself to slips away, feeling his feathers catching on fire, for once in his life, he feels so warm.*

<ProcellaCor> *The sunlight dances on Quartz' eyes. They make a noise of unhappiness as they wake up, slowly blinking their eyes open. Above them, they see a blue sky. They lift their hand to block the light from their eyes, but notice the small golden flecks on them, as though someone dusted them with glowstone. They slowly sit up, looking around. They do remember everything that happened, but they're not sure if this is... just the afterlife. Or some sort of limbo.* Am I dead? *They stand, looking around at the ashen remains of the mansion. They blink, realizing if they can't be dead, not if they're still here. And the horror of that sinks in* ROSE! *immediately, they look around frantically, looking for him, or, dragon forbid, for his body* ROSE?!

<champi1612> *Rose was right, Quartz did lived, but he forgot one crucial detail, he's a phantom. Though phantomising is usually controllable, it become an instinct, something involuntary, like his heartbeat, in certain conditions. One of them, of course, is extreme heat. Rose couldn't phantomise before, not when his body barely had it in itself to keep his heart beating, but the bottle of regeneration did help, and at the very last few moments, his body phantomised, all the while he was unconcious. Rose opens his eyes to the sound of yelling, this must be heaven, or limbo, whatever form of the afterlife this is, but then he lifts his hand, and it still hurts, he still feels weak as his image phased right through the ash. Rose eyes widen as he turns his head towards the sound to a, at least fortunately, alived Quartz, frantically looking for him.* How... Why...? *Rose stares down at his phatomised form, a bit of tears sting his eyes. He's confused, he doesn't know how to process this, he's still alive, but he doesn't even know if he should be happy about it.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz' head snaps towards Rose's voice. They narrow their eyes, faintly seeing his outline. Tears fall down their face, over the new golden freckles. And then they smile and throw themself at him, trying to wrap their arms around him. At first, they go right through him, falling back to the ground. But his form flickers again and they pull him down with them. Quartz is sobbing and laughing all at once, holding him close. They can't quite get words out, they don't have any. They just hug Rose close, giving him quick kisses anywhere they can, their arms shaking around him but clearly overjoyed that they're, at least, together.*

<champi1612> *Rose is still frozen as he tries to process everything, what does this mean for him now? What is he going to do? Go home? He just must, Quartz wouldn't let him do otherwise. But their kisses eventually softens him, and he leans into them, just letting them hold him, despite mixed tears still falling.* What do I... do now...

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz calms down a bit, though they're still crying and shaking and laughing just a bit. They put a hand on his face, and they lean up and kiss him on the lips, pulling him close. They break it after a moment* I don't know. *they whisper* But I'm coming with you.

<champi1612> *Rose leans his forehead against theirs, seeking some form of stability to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind.* I... I don't think I can go back. But you... You must. *Rose shakes his head.* I don't know…

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz thinks for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. They pull Rose close again* Then come with me. Let's /both/ go home. *their tone betrays some sadness* If you think I have to go back, then come with me. Please, don't- don't be apart from me again. *they look into his eyes* Please, Rose, come home with me.

<champi1612> *Rose stares deep into their eyes, the brilliant purple that he always loved, he can't bare the thoughts of never being able to see it again, to see Quartz again. He leans in close, nuzzling their noses together and sighs in defeat.* I... Let's... Let's go…

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz smiles, though in their mind they know Rose is hesitant. They slowly get up, helping Rose to his feet as well. They smile at him, keeping their hand in his* I love you.

<champi1612> *Rose can barely stand up, and he immediately falls against Quartz.* I love you too... *He turns his head a little, like he's snuggling into the crook of their neck.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz smiles down at him, supporting him* Let me find my weapons in all this ash, and then we can go get Pegasus. He'll be so excited to see you. *they get the weapons shut up I'm tired and lazy and they pick Rose up, carrying him back to his own horse, letting them reunite.* Let's get home. Ginger probably misses us both terribly.

<champi1612> *Rose puts a gentle hand on Pegasus, combing through her mane.* Did Quartz treat you well girl? *He chuckles at the thought of that orange beast, leaning against Quartz.* She'll surely miss you, not me, though.

<ProcellaCor> ...girl? *Quartz looks genuinely embarrassed. They had spent nearly a week with Pegasus, and the whole time, they had been addressing her as a stallion, not a mare. They put their hands over their face, just laughing a bit at themself. They get up on Pegasus with Rose, wrapping ther arms around his waist and letting him take the reigns. They snuggle close to him, though. Just happy he's alive and with them again. That's all that matters*

#origins #word count: 4535 #total word count: 52003

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