#And just blanked hard on what I was doing!!!

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[freakassfemme]

if you dfw cheating tropes i respect that #fuckrealcheaters 🥺 but cheating on your boyfriend with abby and she's jealous and possessive and pissed off at you for even initiating but OH.. she wants you so bad she's not even pushing you away.. i fear i need it

not a player but i’ll still play w her [drabble, 18+]

warnings: mean! abby, cheating, oral sex (reader and abby receiving), light slapping, degradation, NOT PROOF READ!!!! wc: 1.9k a/n: answering old asks woooooo yahooo! n e ways I went for mean abby I hope everyone is chill with that. me well I'm chilling legs open 4 it

♫ playlist: long way 2 go (cassie)

"What the actual fuck are you doing?"

Abby's words were harsh, cutting through the music with a rough palm on your shoulder, shoving you away under the dim lights of the house party. Her drink sloshed over the edges of the red solo cup, spilling onto her hand. She grimaced, setting the cup down and shaking off her hand as she continued to stare at you in disbelief. When you didn't respond, she raised her eyebrows, scoffing.

"Hey, is anyone in there?" She snapped, growing more irritated. "Or are you just acting like a fucking douche for no reason?"

The truth was, Abby had no idea what had gotten into you, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. One second, you were rambling off about your fuckass boyfriend, about how he was pissing you off for the umpteenth time, but Abby had actually felt a twinge of sympathy this time (alongside her usual annoyance with the topic).

She'd been responsive when your eyes began to water up, pulling you into her arms like any good friend would. Or, at least that's what she told herself.

That's what she told herself when you looked up at her like a kicked puppy, clinging to your best friend like you couldn't stand to breathe air that hadn't been exhaled by her first. You were good. friends. Point blank period.

So why the fuck were you kissing her?

In the blink of an eye, you had closed the gap, slamming your plush lips up and into Abby's, locking your arms around her so tightly that when the taste of alcohol on your lips sent red alarms finally off in her head, she had to forcefully pry your fingers off of her, and Jesus fuck, she was pissed.

It was pretty hard to be this upset, especially when the waterworks really started and people began to stare. Your eyes pooled over, flooding over the rims and down your pink cheeks in a way that made Abby feel like the dick. She had to remind herself that she wasn't in the wrong -- she was mad at you.

She couldn't be mad at you for kissing her. God, she'd spent so long with her fingers in her boxers, toying with her clit to the thought of just running her tongue over your neck that she almost couldn't resist kissing back. But you weren't kissing her to kiss her, you were kissing her because you were mad at your boyfriend, and you were treating her like every straight girl in the fucking house, getting sleezy and expecting her to open up her lab for experiments the second one of you bitches licked the rim of a bottle of vodka.

"What's your problem?" You snapped back. "You've been staring at my tits all night!"

At least that much was true. Abby hadn't able to avoid catching a few glances of your low cut top the whole night, especially when she's leaning over you and playing the part of the dutiful gal pal. Still, she blushed, even though she couldn't deny it.

"You're not like that!" She countered, going right for the throat to dodge your accusations. "You've got a fucking boyfriend, dude."

You scoffed, sniffing and wiping your face. You gestured stupidly around you. "I don't see no fucking boyfriend around here."

"You don't go for girls," Abby said pointedly, knowing that arguing morality with you would be useless at this point, especially since she could almost guarantee your 'boyfriend' was off playing the same card on some chick in a bar.

"I'm going for you."

For you

For you

You

You

I'm going for you, Abby.

The words ring through her head like church bells when you've got your fingers in her hair, grinding down on her freckled nose like your life depends on it.

She hadn't even been able to resist when you'd noticed her pause, soaking in your words. She wasn't nice, per se, calling you a bitch, a cunt, a fucking player and every name in the book while you backed her down the hallway, grunting the insults out between your mashed lips while your painted nails dipped into her boxers.

"Come on, Abs, what are friends for?"

Friends. Skipping rope and braiding hair and playing dolls. Pushing the little buttons to see what noises it makes, toying at your entrance with her tongue to coax little whimpers of her name from your lips. It was basically the same thing.

You were practically floating above her, your thighs shaking around her head in a way that convinced her you hadn't been taken care of nearly this well in a long, long time. Her large palms groped at your ass, pulling you down harder, faster, in a way that would have you worried she would suffocate if you weren't holding on so desperately to the headboard of the random bedroom you two had crawled into.

"Mmpf, fuck, Abby!" You cried out, tits bulging out of that black lacy bra that really wasn't giving pathetic and heartbroken BFF. It was giving slutty, it was giving whorish, and she told you so when she shoved your face down to her cunt some time later.

"You're a fucking slut," she growled, hands wrapping your hair into a handle. You whined from your place between her legs, kneeling on the ground. Abby was mean, angry, she was pissed. "Trying so hard, huh? You've got no idea what you're even doing, sweetheart."

She leaned her head back, letting out an annoyed puff of air as she looked up at the ceiling, then down at your pitiful attempt. God, you were pathetic, on your knees and whoring yourself out just to get back at your shitty ass boyfriend. She felt sour for giving into it, for letting herself be a toy in your cat and mouse game with him, but she also felt some sort of sick satisfaction in knowing she was going to make her mark on you, fuck you until you were too used up to go back to him. Until you could only beg for her to break you in over and over.

"You're lucky I like you, shit — it’s not his fucking dick," she reprimanded, an almost light slap to your cheek stinging your pretty lips into action. She groaned in annoyance, pulling your face away from her. "God, you're fucking dumb. Come here."

With her other hand, Abby pinched your cheeks, and ordered you to poke your tongue out. When you did, she shoved her thumb into your throat, flattening it. You gasped, instinctively going to wrap your lips around the digit.

She was too quick, shoving your face back into her core, your still-pursed lips wrapping around her clit in a way that sent a satisfying buzz through Abby's body. She let out a soft moan, a sadistic smirk spreading on to her face. She lifted her hips up, grinding into your face well beyond when you began desperately gasping between her thighs.

"There you go, there you go," she murmured, hissing out a sharp breath of satisfaction. "Put yourself to some use, huh? If you're gonna learn, you're gonna learn baby."

[moonlightrafe]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ 18+ MDNI

The sun had began to set and the temperature had finally dropped below the 70’s on Kildare Island. The weather change had everyone feeling festive— kooks and pogues alike. Enjoying the slight change of weather, you had your window open as you were getting ready for the evening.

Your boyfriend, being the wonderful decision maker he was, decided the best time for you to meet his family would be at their annual Christmas party.

You were dreading it, of course. You hadn’t heard anything particularly good about The Cameron’s, especially Ward.

Desperate for their approval, you spent all afternoon trying to figure out an appropriate outfit. Red felt too predictable, anything with fur felt like you were trying too hard, sequins were too much.

You ended up choosing a black mini dress with a white trim on top, paired with black stockings and matching pumps. The dress accentuated your curves wonderfully, but was still modest.

If the Cameron’s had any doubt that you had class before meeting you, you hoped that at least your choice in outfit would help to change their minds.

Once you heard the engine of Rafe’s truck in your driveway, you gave yourself one final look in the mirror before heading out to him. This was it, no turning back now.

The strong scent of cigarette smoke and Rafe’s Dior cologne hit your senses as you opened up the door. He looked and smelled delicious.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, offering a shy smile.

“Hi, you look great.”

“You too, babe. Wow.”

You found yourself unable to stop your nerves, anxiously bouncing your leg until Rafe suddenly slammed his palm down on it, gripping at the flesh of your thigh.

“Baby, you gotta chill, aight? It will be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” You snapped at him, your nerves getting the best of you.

Without another word, he just pulled off the main road into a random lot, quickly putting his truck in park.

“What are you doing? We’ll be late to the party.”

“Relax, can I not admire how gorgeous my girl looks? Fuckin’ stunning,” he all but snarled at you before running his palm along the upper part of your thigh— his touch more gentle than the minutes before. You let out a sigh at his words, your cheeks flushed at his compliments.

His large hand made it’s way up, skimming your ribcage over your right breast. You let out a small moan as he squeezed it harshly, kneading at the sensitive flesh. Anticipation pooled in your belly.

You let out a gasp as he forced your thighs apart.

After he hitched your dress over your waist and pulled your stockings and panties down in one swoop, he left you no time to protest; Rafe worked not one, but two fingers inside of you. Quickly finding your most sensitive spots. Your body trembled as familiar heat started to bloom within you. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. The thrill of possibly getting caught added an exciting edge to it all, heightening your senses and making every touch more intense.

With each thrust of his fingers, fire burned within you. As his slender fingers worked their magic, pleasure radiated through your body, causing your breath to hitch and your toes to curl. Your mind went blank as you surrendered to the intense sensation, reveling in the pleasure.

You moaned loudly as your orgasm ripped through you. Rafe watched intently, his own jaw slack as your cunt clamped down around his fingers, soaking them in your release as you did so.

“Feeling better?” he asked, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Yes,” you giggled shyly as he pulled his fingers from your core, “thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied, as he brought his digits to his lips, sucking your release off of them.

“Now, would you relax? I promise they’re going to love you,” he said before pausing for a moment, “not as much as I do, of course.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He had never told you he loved you before.

“Rafe Cameron, did you just say you love me?”

“Something like that.”

You playfully hit his arm before leaning in to kiss him.

“Well… I love you, too,” you mumbled between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Something like that.”

[astronicht]

prompt if you’re willing and if you’re nastyyyy: rosquez and lies…..

incredible theme best theme. THANK u <3 <3 <3 (caveat that i am tortured by the knowledge that i'm getting some paddock shit wrong in here, i have yet to osmosis my way thru it all, mea culpa)

It’s only nine at night, the summer sun just set, and the paddock is not yet silent. It has grouped instead into little pools of light: most of the motorhomes are lit up behind blinds pulled down on windows, and past them one hospitality suite is still open like a distant island in the dark. Motorhome generators hum loud. The air feels light on the skin, the way it does in the mountains. When he was younger, Valentino never had to sleep in the mountains at all. It was all so easy in the thin air.

He could use a few hours tonight, or tomorrow morning. He can sleep through several practices, frankly, and be up for qualifying instead, because that’s what retirement buys you.

Valentino feels his way silently down the steps of his own motorhome, under the cover of the hum of the generators. He could use his phone flashlight except he left his phone inside. Ah, well. The rough treds on the metal steps bite at his feet through the thin soles of his converse. Once he’s away he stops trying to be silent. His keys jangle in his pocket as he walks.

Pecco is parked next door, Ducati red, lights out. Valentino passes quickly, angling towards the brightest island of light. A few motorhomes later and he passes Marc’s, windows dark, everything quiet. He doesn’t pause.

Honda is the one with hospitality still open, which is good, because Honda hospitality has pretty good espresso. And they mostly let Valentino in, now that it’s Luca’s team. But he likes to think a little bit that not everyone has forgotten that he was here first, before Marc, and before Casey.

There was a crash, earlier — not Luca — and presumably everyone at Honda was up late doing repairs. He wonders how the bike is.

The door swings open and everyone looks up, but no one tells him to head back to his own hospitality suite, which is after all closed up tight for the night. He can easily break in, since the alarm company calls his phone first, but not much point.

Valentino surveys the knots of people at tables while he walks through to the counter station. It’s a mixed crowd of Honda people and hangers-on. Luca isn’t here. Alex Marquez is, however: deep in discussion about football with a mechanic. He looks up and meets Valentino’s eyes, probably by accident. Valentino makes a point of smiling at him. Gets his espresso in a to-go cup and starts to walk past.

The mechanic next to Alex Marquez is Ducati, not Gresini. He says, as Valentino brushes by, “Vale, did you come from the motorhomes? Is Pecco still up? We wanted to see if we could catch him and Marc about something before the morning.” He looks apologetically at Alex, who can’t know the details of Ducati strategy any more than Valentino can.

“Pecco I think no,” Valentino says slowly, stopping, little cup hot in his hands. “Early night. And Marc—” his eyes flick to Alex, who is utterly blank-faced. “Maybe you know better? His lights were… on, I think.”

“He’s up at the pit lane doing some data review, last I heard,” Alex says. “But I think he was going to have an early night.” He is looking very hard at Valentino.

The mechanic is nodding. “Yeah, that’s what I heard too, I just wondered, you know, if you’d seen Pecco.”

Valentino nods and leaves. The dark between the lights of the track and the lights of the motorhomes is wide and deep. The mountains in the distance show up dark against the light pollution from Spielburg.

He creeps back up his own motorhome steps in the dark. Slips the key in the door. It’s dark inside too except for some low light from near the front, where the bed is pulled out.

“How is the data review going?” Valentino asks once the door is shut, amused. “You didn’t even leave your lights on in your motorhome.”

“Why would I do that?” Marc asks from Valentino’s bed. He emerges a little from under the duvet. “Did you get coffee? I didn’t hear you go.”

“You passed out,” Valentino says dryly, proud of it. “I was quiet, like a cat. Ah, have you seen my phone?”

Marc silently raises a hand, Valentino’s phone in it.

“Ah. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” says Marc, “I don’t know your passcode.”

The phone is, of course, handed to Valentino unlocked.

Valentino closes the screen and tosses it to the side, puts a water glass in the sink, doesn't bother with the dirty coffee cups. Picks up a dishcloth.

Marc says, "What are you doing?"

Valentino huffs and fumbles open his jeans. Marcs hands are already reaching for him, out of the dark. He has to bat Marc away to pull his jeans down careful of the zipper. His soft cock and balls are bare beneath, no underwear. It was just a quick trip. Marc's come is still drying on his stomach, in his pubes.

"Come on," Marc says, hands on Valentino's hips. "Come on." And then his mouth is hot on Valentino's messy cock, Valentino's jeans still around his thighs. It's too sudden; Valentino gasps, open-mouthed, stumbling. Marc, merciless, sucks.

[hrrtshape]

hi Emma,

I wanna ask what the void state is? please and thankyou!

✶ EXPLAINING THE VOID STATE.

the void state is basically a state of deep consciousness where you feel empty but in a powerful, limitless kind of way. like, imagine your mind being a blank canvas—completely detached from the outside world, just being there in pure stillness. no thoughts, no distractions, just you chilling in this black, endless abyss of potential. it’s where people say you can manifest literally anything because there’s nothing holding you back.

⭒ ˚ ₊ ⋆ WELL, EMMA, THAT SOUNDS FANTASTIC! HOW DO I GET THERE?

people usually do meditations, affirmations, or breathwork to hit the void state. the key is to relax, focus inward, and let go of all the noise. you’re basically tuning out of this reality and into your inner space.

SET THE MOOD. get comfy. lie down or sit in a cozy position where your body can relax without distractions. dim the lights, grab a blanket, and maybe play soft, ambient sounds (or just embrace the silence).

RELAX YOUR BODY. start with deep breathing. inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4, exhale for 4 (repeat a few times). then do a mental body scan—relax your toes, then your legs, then your chest, etc. until you feel like a puddle of calm.

QUIET THE MIND. focus on nothingness. easier said than done, i know, i know, but try to let go of any thoughts that pop up. some people imagine a black void or empty space to help. if thoughts creep in, don’t fight them—just let them pass and gently refocus.

AFFIRM YOUR INTENT. use affirmations to remind yourself you’re entering the void. whisper (or think) things like.....

"i am in the void.” “i am pure awareness.” “i am limitless.”

say them until you feel it.

DETACH AND SURRENDER. here’s the key—don’t force it. just let yourself be. the void isn’t about trying hard; it’s about releasing everything. trust that you’re exactly where you need to be, even if it doesn’t feel dramatic.

SIGNS YOU'RE IN THE VOID. you feel detached from your body or surroundings. there’s a deep stillness or “nothingness” sensation. you’re hyper-aware, but everything feels quiet.

MANIFESTING...OR CHILL. once you’re there, you can affirm what you want, visualise your desires, or just bask in the calm. this is YOUR moment to do whatever you like.

⭒ ˚ ₊ ⋆ IS IT REQUIRED FOR MY SHIFTING JOURNEY?

the void state is cool and all, but let me be clear—you do NOT need it to manifest, shift, or achieve your dreams. belief, consistency, and confidence in yourself are just as powerful. the void is like an optional bonus round; sure, it’s great if you get there, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. you already hold the power to change your reality through your thoughts and intentions alone. so don’t stress if the void feels elusive—your belief in yourself is enough. always has been, always will be.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 18

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

“(italics)” Indicates that the speaker is speaking in Spanish (unless stated otherwise). This author only knows English, and I did not want to misrepresent Spanish by using Google Translate.

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CH.18

“FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS I LAY DORMANT. WHO HAS DISTURBED MY- Oh hey Fordsy, what’s up?”

“Cipher, I need to project into a different mindscape.”

“I already know who it is, but tell me anyways.”

“My mother, Caryn Pines. I need to glimpse into her memories. She should still be asleep at this time, going deeper into her mindscape will be easier than if she were awake.”

“Oh, wow, your own mom. Aren’t you worried she’ll know it’s you?”

“She’s not a real psychic, my muse. She will be none the wiser.”

“If you insist, let’s hope that isn’t foreshadowing.”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan, this is Ms. Ramirez, and she is the Hypnotherapist I referred you to.”

“Stretch here has been saying great things about ya, ma’am.”

“Hello Mr… Stan? The last name is blank… (I’m sorry).”

“(I'm not offended. I don't know what it is either.)”

“(Where did you learn Spanish?)”

“(Colombia.)”

“Ah, yes. Dr. McGucket, are you sitting in on this session?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And Mr. Stan, you are okay with this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Very well… This dosage of ketamine is based on your height and weight, and will be delivered intranasally. I also adjusted based on your extensive drug history. Normally, I’d consider this dosage to be lethal but…”

“Don’t worry, not dying when I really should is actually my first or second greatest skill.”

“...First or second?”

“Yeah, it’s interchangeable with lying.”

“Try to be honest during this session at least…”

(...)

“How are we going to find her specific memories about Stanley and this… accident?”

“Well Fordsy, her mindscape is structured like a carnival-”

“I can see that.”

“You can. They can’t. Anyways, one of these rides or attractions gotta be based on guilt or grief, let’s start there.”

(...)

“Let’s go back to when you were first on the streets, Stan.”

“...Okay…”

“How old were you?”

“17.”

“How did you start out?”

“Lived… Lived? I was- I was living in my car…”

“Only there?”

“For a few weeks… had a hard time. I caved and went to a homeless shelter but- but only once. Never again.”

“Why is that Stan?”

“...Something bad happened.”

“What bad thing?”

“I… I… I don’t want to-.”

“You don’t have to talk about that specifically, if it’s too distressing for you. Do you remember anything else from the homeless shelter? Was there a reason you went there that time and not before?”

“That one had free telephones.”

(...)

“Okay so we’ve been to the Dunk Tank of Phobias, The Rifle Range of Unrealistic Beauty Standards, The Deep-Fried Food Stand of Excuses, The Carousel of Broken Dreams, The Dime Pitch of Daddy Issues, The Strength Tester of Mommy Issues, The Roller Coaster of Regrets-.”

“Bill, you don’t have to list off everywhere we’ve been, everytime we are about to enter another carnival attraction.”

“You never know when the narrative will pick us up again.”

“I do not even want to know how that reasoning works.”

“Ah- look over here Sixer! It’s the Funhouse Mirrors of Memories!”

“I can read the sign, my muse.”

“Let’s go in here, and wander around aimlessly until we find that specific string of memories you’re looking for.”

(...)

“You needed to use the telephone?”

“I was… scared.”

“Scared?”

“I just… I just wanted to talk to my mom…”

(...)

“Is this the home of Caryn and Filbrick Pines?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“Ma’am, do you recognize this license plate?”

“STNLYMBL… Yes, that belongs to my son, Stanley- is something wrong? Did his car get stolen?”

“Ma’am… You may want to sit down for this.”

“We should skip this part, IQ. You already know what they’re about to tell her.”

(...)

“Can you remember what you wanted to talk to your mom about?”

“I didn’t know what to do… I wanted help, I…”

(...)

“Where… where is everybody?”

“It looks like PTSD Barnum had a mostly empty funeral.”

“That can’t be-.”

*Bill suddenly winks out of the scene*

“Stanford? What are you doing here?”

“...Ma?”

“You weren’t at this funeral, sweetie.”

“Where- Where’s Pa? Where’s Sherman?”

“Shermie couldn’t make it, his son was sick. And your father… He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so he didn’t come.”

“And who is that?”

“An IRS agent.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Ma… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Stanford, I tried to. Every time I brought up his name over the phone you hung up. I thought you knew and… you weren’t handling it well, just like your father.”

“Ma, you can’t really believe Stanley’s dead. He-.”

“You should have known first, Stanford. Can’t you see your bond was severed?”

“...Bond?”

“Your twin bond.”

“That is not a real thing, Ma.”

“You do not get to project yourself into the Astral Plane and tell your Ma what is or is not real here.”

“...”

“I need you to think about your brother - really, really think about him. How much you loved each other, how close you were. And imagine there is a rope between you two… like one that keeps a boat attached to a dock.”

*a rope suddenly appears, with one end fading into Ford’s chest. The other end appears clean cut after a few yards*

“Just as I thought.”

“What is this, Ma?”

“I told you, sweetheart. Your twin bond. Not all twins have it, but you two did. You can see… the other half is gone, it’s been severed. There’s nothing for you to attach to anymore.”

“Th-that doesn’t mean he’s dead! Couldn’t one of us have severed it another way?”

“One of you would have to have enough of a presence on the Astral Plane to manually sever it. I can see you are here, but if you do not remember severing it, it means Stanley would have had to have been the one to cut it. And… your brother never showed me the ability to deeply meditate enough to have a presence here, let alone sever a bond.”

“Ma, he’s not gone-.”

“Oh sweetheart… They never really leave us.”

(...)

“Help with what?”

“My life, what to do, where to go- everything. I… I just wanted to go home.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t allowed to… I did something wrong, I-. I don’t remember what it was, but I did something, and I wasn’t allowed back home anymore.”

(...)

“Is she going to remember any of this, Cipher?”

“If you’d talked to her mental projection while she was awake, maybe. But she’s asleep right now, only her unconscious mind will remember. While awake she might just have a feeling.”

“This twin bond, it’s a real thing?”

“Lots of things in the Dreamscape can be real - you only have to imagine it.”

“So this bond is something she made up- that she had me imagine was real?”

“Oh, no, yours is definitely real. At one point, you and your twin both believed in ‘Twinsense’ so much you manifested that connection all by yourselves. Impressive for a pair of twins who didn’t know how to manipulate the dreamscape at the time.”

“And… It's severed. Why is it severed?”

“Your mommy just told you, Fordsy. Either the other end of that connection is gone, or your brother actually managed to come into the dreamscape and cut it himself.”

“I need more data… I need to know how he did it.”

“So, you’re gonna ask him?”

“No. I need more data.”

“That’s what I expected from you, Sixer.”

(...)

“Stan?”

“...Fiddleford?”

“Do you feel yourself coming back?”

“Yeah…”

“Ms. Ramirez left a few minutes ago. Do you remember any of that?”

“Most of it I think?”

“Stan… do you remember saying that you were kicked out of your home?”

“Yeah… I kinda always felt like that was it but I couldn’t put the memories into place. I’ve been sabotaging myself since I was just a snot nosed punk after all.”

“Stan, it doesn’t matter what you did, you were only seventeen, you were still a kid. For Heavens sake, one of your first instincts was to try to call your mama.”

“S’not like we can do anything about it now. And I don’t even remember my mom.”

(...)

“Conference! Conference now!”

“I’m not in the mood for a meeting right now, Fiddleford…”

*Fiddleford drags him to the office anyways and locks the door*

“Fine. What information did you gain from the hypnotherapy session? Any useful data?”

“Stanford?”

“...Yes?”

“Look at me.”

SLAP

“What the-! Fiddleford!”

“You have some nerve, Dr. Stanford Pines. Nerve, and a thumpin’ gizzard for a heart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Lie about what?!”

“You told me that your twin brother Stanley left home when he had a following out with you over your science fair project. But he remembers being thrown out.”

“...”

“So, it’s true.”

“...I didn’t lie, I said he left, I didn’t say it was his choice.”

“I know darn well that we attended the same ethics class, and they made it clear early on that deliberately withholding information is the same as deceit. Now, you wanna share with the class what really happened?”

“Our father had imagined if I had been accepted into West Coast Tech I would have been wildly rich and successful. When we found out Stanley sabotaged my project, he kicked him out of the household and told him to not come home unless if he brought back millions.”

“That is… Awful.”

“I know it is.”

“Then why lie about it?”

“...”

“Stanford. Be honest with me. Or at least be honest to yourself right now.”

“Because I feel guilty about it. Back then- back then I felt justified, I was so upset I thought he deserved it. But then we got older, and the more I thought about it, I realized… it was wrong. I thought-...”

“Thought what?”

“I thought maybe he was always going to strike out on his own, as some act of defiance against- I don’t know, our father? Me? The IRS? Something.”

“You thought you could alleviate your own feelings of guilt by convincing yourself that he wanted what happened? Stanford, he was seventeen.”

“So was I.”

“It isn’t your fault your father kicked him out, you were just a minor yourself. What is your fault is that you saw your brother was an amnesiac and still changed the narrative to fit your own comfort zone. You cannot ask someone to trust you, and not have the common decency to be honest. You’ve been so overprotective, and yet still keep him at arm's length.”

“I am not over protective.”

“Horse feathers! You’ve been over compensating like hell this whole time. He’d still be in the containment cell if he didn’t break out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you implanted a tracking chip somewhere on him.”

“I did not chip him! Every time I tried they just short out for some reason.”

“... What?”

“What is it you want from me, Fiddleford?”

“For you to see that Stan isn’t stupid. You think he doesn’t realize what you’ve told him isn’t properly aligning to what he’s starting to remember? What are you going to do if he confronts you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Some brother you are. You should talk to him before one of you has a breakdown, it’s for your own good.”

“Wow. It is quite annoying to be on the receiving end of that phrase.”

To be continued…

[laswells-ashtray]

Does Nik do anything for John the day after he visits his mother's grave?

The day after visiting his mother's grave John knows he fucked up. The big flashing "you fucked up again, moron" sign presents itself in the form of his head leaning over the toilet as he vomits for the umpteenth time that afternoon. He can see a little blood which means he's been retching hard enough to tear the inside of his throat, again.

Nikolai is being far more gentle than he should be. Instead of treating John like the idiot who fucked up again he's treating him with care. He brought him a glass of water a while ago and John knows there's a plate of crackers with two painkillers next to it on his nightstand.

He spits out another mouthful of bile, leaning back and slumping against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall before the smell leaves him gagging. There are hands on him in an instant, one brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his face as the other wipes around his mouth with a damp cloth.

"Are you done?" Nikolai questions him quietly. He can't bring himself to look in the Russian's direction as he makes a vague noise of acknowledgement. He has no clue and he doesn't feel like moving to test it out.

He can't remember a lot from the previous night and trying only hurts his head more. He went to his mother's grave, he went to a bar and then he woke up and dragged himself into their bathroom to spare Nikolai from watching him vomit on the bedroom floor.

He hasn't been this hungover since he was in his twenties and that morning he woke up on Mac's bathroom floor next to a pool of his own vomit that the Scotsman had been forced to clean. He had never apologised for that incident and he still wouldn't, that was the captain's fault for offering to pay for shots.

The hand that moves his head to the right is far more careful than he deserves. "Do you want to talk about it?" Nikolai's face is deliberately blank and it almost frustrates John. He wants to see the other man lash out at him, call him a stupid wanker and leave him to his suffering. It's the least of what he deserves.

"No. I don't- I can't." John's father would've taken a belt to him for how shaky his voice is, for cutting himself off in the middle of s sentence like that. Nikolai just nods and trails his thumb across John's cheekbone.

He chooses to believe that the reason Nikolai eventually turns his head away is to avoid getting vomit all over their floor and not because he cares but because one is much easier to handle in his current state.

He also chooses to ignore the hand that rubs his back because he isn't sure he can handle crying while hungover as a grown man,

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 9 ୨୧

PREV || 09 Relationships || next

Kanzaki was over at [Names] house working on a project. Korosensei had randomly paired up students for a school assignment. Kanzaki had always been a likable person, but [Name] couldn't help but feel conflicted. After everything that blew over the first year, could the two really be friends again?

Prior to either of the two girls dropping down to End Class, Kanzaki was close with [Name] and Kaho by association. Out of the blue it felt like [Name] became distant for reasons Kanzaki never knew.

"Make yourself at home Kanzaki!" [Name] smiled, she felt a bit awkward having an old friend over, how long had it been since they last hung out here?

"Thank you! And you don't have to be formal [Name], not calling me Yukiko sounds out of place coming from you."

"Really? I've gotten pretty used to saying Kanzaki. But okay, Yukiko?" [Name] gave a stiff laugh, It was difficult to make conversation with each other after so long.

The girls laid a blank poster on the living room table and got to work. For a while it was quiet. They just focused on the project. Kanzaki wasn't willing to ask the questions she was thinking of, she kept it cordial, and opted for mild questions.

"Sooo [Name], How have you been?"

"Pretty good, and you?"

"I'm good too."

that was cut short.

Alright next topic!

"How's your family?"

"Same as always, and yours?"

"Yeah mine too..."

Before Kanzaki could try again, [Name] unexpectedly spoke.

"Kanzaki I'm sorry."

"Don't be, we haven't talked in a while so it's natural to be uneasy!"

"That's not what I'm apologizing for." [Name] laughed and shook her head, breaking the troubled look on her face for just a moment.

"I'm sorry I stopped hanging around you."

"Was it… something I did?"

The truth was it was never Kanzaki's fault. [Name] just couldn't take it anymore. Constantly being compared to her by friends, even family.

Kanzaki had always been easy to like, she's popular and near perfect. That's what made her so easy to dislike.

Before she met Karma, [Name] had a tiny crush on Sugino, it was the very beginning of first year and it wasn't serious or even mutual. It was obvious he liked her best friend- that in itself was a hard pill to swallow. But the problem in their relationship wasn’t just over a guy, it was everyone. [Name] couldn’t feel appreciated around Kanzaki, still, it wasn’t her fault.

Karma was the first person [Name] felt unconditionally seen by. It didn't matter how amazing her friends were, because he'd always pick her. That was the feeling she was looking for when she stopped hanging around Kanzaki, though now she sees her methods were unnecessary.

It wasn't like Kanzaki showed interest outside of being friends with Sugino at the time, but all the self inflicted hate [Name] harbored throughout the friendship bubbled over. She couldn't help but feel insecure. Not wanting to take it out on Kanzaki or admit her feelings, [Name] stopped going over to her house then she started talking to other girls at school, then she joined the student council and "didn't have time to hang out" anymore.

"You didn't do anything, I'm sorry for being a bad friend."

Kanzaki's shoulders dropped in relief, "It's good to hear you don't hate me, I'm sure you had your reasons."

"...not very good ones."

"I want to be friends again. If you're okay with it."

A series of knocks came at the door, "I'll get that..." [Name] unlocked the door and it swung open in an instant. It was Kaho, her eyes were puffy from crying. Kaho draped herself over [Names] body.

"He broke up with me! Completely out of nowhere!"

[Name] dragged her friend's dead weight back to her living room where Kanzaki was. Kahos awareness came back to her body when she saw her, she turned her head towards [Name] "What's she doing here?" She didn't mean to come off rude, but she'd always been a blunt person.

"We're working on a project for school."

"Actually we can finish up tomorrow if that's okay with you [Name], my parents want me home soon."

"Oh, yeah that's cool with me. I'll see you tomorrow then- Yukiko." Kanzaki smiled on her way out, maybe this meant they’d go back to how things used to be.

Kaho and [Name] went up to [Names] bedroom. The second Kaho plopped herself on [Names] bed the tears began to flow down. "Everything reminds me of him!"

"Alright firstly which one broke up with you, secondly what are you talking about?”

"Preed broke up with me, and I meant your room smells like cologne..."

[Names] eyes widened.

"Wait, Have you had a guy in here?!"

"No! I just. I got an oil diffuser thingy.."

"Hmm alright then. Anyways Preed was saying he lost feelings. How's that even possible?"

There was a big thud sound from under the bed, and a hiss of pain coming from beneath the bed frame.

"What was that?" Kaho turned to [Name] in concern.

[Name] grabbed her own ankle and made a hurt facial expression. "Ouch… I hit my leg really hard…! Do you mind getting me an ice pack from the fridge?"

Kaho nodded and paced down the stairs. [Name] crouched down and threw the oversized covers of her bed from one side to another to expose whoever was underneath the bed frame.

A certain red haired boy poked his head out from under.

"I could report you to the cops for breaking and entering if I really wanted to.”

He smiled as he made his way out onto the top of the bed and sat down. "You should lock your windows, I'm just testing security."

"Okay seriously why didn't you use the door like a normal person?"

"I left my phone here and I wasn't sure if your parents were home... I needed to get it back so I thought I'd just use your window."

“Here I was thinking you missed me or something.”

“Nah not at all.” He smiled and leaned into kiss her

"[Name] I couldn't find an ice pack so I brought ice cubes..."

[Name] pushed Karma off of her and he fell back onto the floor.

Kaho dropped the ice cubes onto the floor. "Akabane?!"

[Name] panicked "I've never seen this guy in my life!"

"[Name] that's not funny you're gonna get me really reported." He said it wasn't funny but he laughed a little bit. Karma rubbed his head after hitting it for the second time today, hopefully he didn't end up with memory loss after today.

[Name] panicked even more, "Kaho, you've got to keep this a secret! Please?"

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 12- The Shower Task

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I cut open my foot in July when I was outlining this chapter and couldn't shower for a couple days. Was awful. It's also shocking how much a simple cut can bleed. I have a scar now, it's purple and sticks out a little

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

Sleep does its best to evade you that night. Between the unwelcoming unfamiliarity of the guest room to the slight ache in your leg, you just lay there awake. Finally, late into the night you begin to fall asleep. Resting uneasily.  It's quiet all the way out here. A silence only cut into by the occasional bark of coyotes. It feels like as soon as you close your eyes you're opening them again. Valeria sharply knocks on the door and doesn't wait for you to bid her entry. She walks in and sets down a pair of crutches next to you.

"You can't do much with your leg," She starts. "you'll help me around my office."

You rub your face and sit up, feeling as heavy as two and a half bags of bricks. "... Okay." It's not what you want to be doing but your options are sorely limited.

Not only are you supposed to help her in her office, it turns out, you're confined to the office. Having to ask her for permission to use the bathroom like you're a child in school. It seems she doesn't trust you with the important paperwork, so you're stuck reading the official contracts and agreements that need to be signed in order for her to keep her possession of the fisheries and warehouses. The subtle scratching of Valeria's pen makes it difficult to focus on the swimming words in front of you.

"Valeria?" You pipe up.

"Hm?"

"... I think... could you send someone to look through the lab for my notes?" You ask.

The scratching stops.

"Your notes were in the lab when it exploded." Valeria says flatly. You look up from the documents and meet her gaze. She's backlit by the harsh sun shining through the window behind her. Making her shadow lunge imposingly across the floor towards you.

"Yeah." You frown. "Can you send someone?"

"Yeah, I can send someone." She sighs. "You could still cook without them though right?" She asks.

"Yeah." You reply calmly. You're not sure though. You know how to make passible meth, but you'll have to try and get all the ratios right again. You decide not to tell her that. "Just makes me feel better to have them on hand."

Your notes haven't been recovered.  So you've been spending the last couple of nights trying to rewrite everything you can remember. Maybe it's time to move onto a more modern way of keeping notes. Digital notes can't burn in fires, but it doesn't feel right. The first night insomnia has disappeared and you're stuck fighting sleep. Not wanting to stop now that you're going, hand moving faster than your mind. Scribbled out mistakes litter the lined pages of your brand-new notebook. Risk of destruction isn't the only issue with physical notes. It's hard evidence. Or perhaps soft evidence.

Your mind comes to a blank and you resign, closing the notebook and lazily pushing it to the side of the bed. Due to your injuries, your hygiene isn't what it should be. Valeria had taken you back to your apartment for the essentials like she had promised, hair care, bodywash, toothbrush and toothpaste, spare clothes. All you've managed was changing each day and brushing your teeth. You still can't fully stand on your bad leg but it's healing fast. Faster than a fracture should. You're starting to suspect the doctor is an idiot and that your fibula and tibia weren't injured at all. Or at least, not at severely as he said.

The need to clean yourself beyond sitting on the bathroom floor with a soaked rag tugs at you. You want more water, soap. You feel filthy, like you've grown a second skin made of grease. You struggle off the bed, considerate of your leg and ribs and slowly make your way out of your room. Casting a glance into the hallway that leads into the living room. 

In the bathroom you lean your hip against the sink and discard your crutches. Stripping out of your clothes is frustratingly harder than it needs to be, especially with the unnecessary cast. You lumber into the bathtub, struggling with how little weight you're able to put on your leg. It's worse some days. The shower is still wet from when Valeria used it. The water slickens the porcelain. You bend down and turn on the water, flinching at the cold spray of water,  and adjusting it to be warmer. You curse, realising you forgot a rag to clean yourself with. Warm water pelts your back as you contemplate if maneuvering back out of the tub for one is worth it. 

You decide that it is. Getting out is harder than getting in. Your knee almost slips out from under you when you kneel. You swing your good leg over and push yourself to an unsteady stand. Placing a hand on one pale blue tiled wall to keep yourself up right. You reach up and snag a rag. The sound of the shower drowns out all noise as you awkwardly climb back into the tub. Your blood freezes as you step on the curved edge and slip, Slamming into the wall and knocking bottles off of the side. You gasp, feeling a burn in your thigh and leg. You look down, checking it over.

The white bandage along your upper thigh, soaked gray from the water blooms red. The fall reopened the large cut. It dilutes in the water, swirling into the drain. In seconds the bandage has turned red.

"Valeria!" You panic. It heightens when she doesn't come so you call her name louder. The burn in your thigh hurts more than the throbbing in your leg. The bathroom door flies open and Valeria shoves the curtain out of the way.

You can imagine what you must look like right now. Laying in the tub naked getting sprayed in the face by the shower, a river of red running from your leg.

"What the hell happened?" She barks, leaning over and turning off the shower, getting her arms and shoulders wet.

"I fell." You reply sharply.

"Really? I thought you were just laying on your side and bleeding for the fun of it." She retorts. "Come here." Valeria carefully pulls you from the tub, ignoring the hiss of pain as the skin on your thigh stretches.

The feeling of her warm hands along your bare ribs is overwhelming. She doesn't offer you a towel to cover yourself, instead just sitting you down on the side of the tub. Water droplets drip down you and pool on the ground as she retrieves something from under the sink. It's a bucket of supplies. Bandages, stitches, alcohol, scissors.

"You're bleeding all over my bathroom." She says, beginning to cut away at the soiled bandage. You know you are, you can smell the nauseating metallic tang of it. "You tore the stitches, I'll need to fix them." Valeria comments. You wish you were a little more prepared to be seen naked. You wonder what she thinks of the sight. 

Valeria painstakingly takes out and restitches your thigh. Leaving the skin tender and delicate to the touch. She even wraps your thigh in a new bandage. Giving it a gentle pat when she's finished.

"You'll live."  She says. You don't respond, feeling embarrassed. You can't even shower properly without turning it into an issue of some kind. Valeria goes quiet as well. The silence is oppressive and uncomfortable. You're far too aware of the fact that you're naked in front of your boss, who had to drag you from the tub like a wounded soldier and fix your injury for you. She places a hand around your shoulders. "Come on, you need to lie down and stop putting strain on your leg."

Valeria walks you back to your room, arm still around your shoulders, keeping you pressed against her. You feel tired and gladly lean against her. Giving up on caring about your nudity. The white sheets suddenly feel welcoming as you lay in them. Pulling the covers over your body. Valeria lingers beside the bed. Seemingly unable to trust you to settle down without hurting yourself. You're left wondering what else will go wrong this month.

[neon-kazoo]

How the Turns Have Tabled

Hero approached the cell with all the feet-dragging reluctance of someone who was in way over their head. They dug through their pocket for the key, mumbling something about stupidity and youth mortality under their breath. A quick glance through the small window nestled in the door revealed a form unmoving laid out in the corner.

To their minor relief, it appeared their guest was still out cold.

The hinges squeaked as Hero slowly pushed open the door. They watched closely for any movement and saw none, so they continued.

Once inside, they dropped a bundle of fabric at the feet of the sleeping figure and left a plastic bottle and an aluminum package on the ground. They were back out the door quickly and the lock clicked back into place just as fast.

Hero turned away from the door and let out a quiet breath as they moved away.

A few steps in, a creak sounded from behind them.

Shit.

Hero froze, then spoke calmly into the stale air,“The exits out back.”

Lowly, a gruff voice responded, “Not that easy.”

Hero winced.

“Worth a shot.”

By the time their hand shot to their belt and they made to spin around, Villain had already closed the distance. Their knife was knocked from their hand the second it was drawn. The villain kicked it away in the same move he used to grab the hero’s wrist. Hero used their free hand to punch him in the face, landing a hard hit before Villain used his leverage to twist, forcing their arm behind their back and shoving them face-first into the wall.

Hero groaned into the cinder block, “Fuck my life.”

They would not have even realized that they had said that aloud had it not been for the confirmation of a deep but quiet chuckle.

Fingers curled lightly into their scalp as Villain spoke, “Other hand.”

Hero squeezed their eyes shut and offered up their free hand into the borderline-painful grip behind them.

“You want to tell me where the ties are?”

Hero turned their cheek against the wall so their jaw was free to move with the words.

“Second shelf from the bottom, other wall.”

They were lifted from the concrete and pulled backwards to the opposite side of the room. A plastic tie soon zipped into place, pinning their wrists together before the villain shifted his grip to their arm to lead them forward.

“In.”

They stepped through the door into the dimly-lit cell, and Hero scowled at the lock hanging broken off the latch.

“Sit,” he ordered with a shove towards where the crumpled blanket rested on the stripped down cot.

The hero stumbled but did as they were told, settling with their back against the wall and feet planted firmly on the floor.

They watched as Villain dragged in a folding chair, flipping it around in front of him to plant a leg on either side and sit backwards, conveniently blocking the doorway.

“Kidnapping, huh?” The villain begun to question, “Is that what you do now?”

Hero leveled their eyes on the blank sheet that was the adjacent wall in lieu of a response. Villain tilted his head at the silence and leveled a disappointed glare at the hero.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

At that, Hero dragged their gaze slowly to the man in the chair.

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe you walked in here of your own free will?”

“Right,” the villain leaned forward, placing his elbows on the seat back and planting his chin on his palms. “And the lock was for decoration.”

“Obviously, given how easily it broke.”

The distaste shown on the hero’s face suggested that they would be having more than a few words with Masterlock customer service.

Villain grinned almost imperceptibly.

“I must say, this is giving my style, not yours.”

“Yeah, well,” Hero bit their lip and averted their eyes again, “shit happens.”

They took the time to notice all the numerous cobwebs in the room before Villain opened his mouth again.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t moving his tongue to push for an explanation.

“You know, they say mimicry is the highest form of flattery.”

Hero, taken slightly aback, could only find the highly dignified words, “Fuck off.”

Instead of lashing out like the hero had predicted with muscles tensed, Villain simply pointed out, “You’re the one who brought me here. I think I might just stick around and find out why.”

With that, he stood. The chair slid across the floor and into the wall as he pushed off.

“It’s in your best interest to answer, so I’d suggest doing that.”

Hero did not dare take their eyes off his form as he approached. He towered over the low-lying cot, and Hero may or may not have forgotten to breathe as he leaned in.

“Or have you forgotten your position here, now?”

Hot breath warmed their ear and Hero bit their tongue.

“You thought you could lock me up?”

“I…made an error in judgment.” Hero spoke carefully, suppressing a shiver.

Another chuckle had Hero silently begging for a Time Machine. An arm was planted on either side of them, leaving them feeling like a bird in a cage, or an ant under a microscope.

“I sure hope the five minutes of success didn’t get to your head,” Villain spoke with faux pity, lips slightly pouted in obvious mockery.

“I think they took five years off my life, actually,” Hero admitted, figuring it was probably clear at this point how they felt about their decision to… well, abduct the villain.

“It sure sounds like you’ve learned your lesson, then.”

Hero almost cheered when Villain rose back to his full height, out of their immediate personal space. That was, until he continued.

“But really, it is best to be certain.”

“How, exactly, do you plan on being certain?” Hero inquired carefully, not that they really wanted to know the answer. Their heart beat a rapid warning inside of their chest.

Villain tapped his chin thoughtfully before a familiar grin spread slowly across his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got just the idea.”

Worrying did not even begin to cover the fear that sparked in the hero’s chest at that statement.

“Sit tight,” commanded the villain as he sauntered out the door, not bothering to replace the lock or even so much as close the door.

The hero was left to gawk at his abrupt departure from their place in the corner, unable to gracefully rise and follow him with arms stuck behind them as they were.

A few seconds passed, and they slumped as the adrenaline finally started to drain out of them.

They breathed out into the quiet air as the villain’s footsteps receded, “I am going to die so young.”

[saejinniestar]

Crazy, crazy

"Everybody goin' crazy, crazy. Not gonna stop till I'm crazy, crazy."

Dom!Y/N x Sub!Jungkook.

Tags: bp!JK, gp!reader, doing it seven different days(get it, seven??) mind break, edging, holding him against a wall, feminization, girl, this is freaky, name calling(princess, good girl, my jagi), you’re the daddy, voyuerism.

Notes: For @beomiracles I got permission, I am allowed to do this.

Monday

Jungkook, the golden maknae of BTS, the most amazing member of the ‘97 liners. But to you, he was your pliant princess, always ready to be bred at any time. Today he was your pretty house wife, giving you your breakfast in the morning, perfect pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. You finished your breakfast, pushing aside the plate and sitting Jungkook on the table. You took off his shorts and his panties, pushing his legs open, licking up his slit. He whimpered as he felt your tongue push into his hole, licking around and pressing your thumb against his clit. He moaned loudly as you pressed down harder, making him squirt. His slick covering your lower face, glistening in the light. You licked it up, getting the rest on your finger. Then, you got ready and left to work. Jungkook kissed you bye, slick dripping down his legs as you left, you told him something, something flustering, “I want that cunt wet always, it’s mine after all.”

Tuesday

You were looking through old photos, stopping at your wedding photos. But they were pictures of your first honeymoon Anniversary night. Jungkook was wearing a white lace set, a bra that barely covered his chest, a pair of panties that were easy to pull to the side, adorning his legs were a pair of white thigh highs and a lacy garter belt. He looked so pretty in his wedding set, so pretty that you took your time pleasing him. His moans were so beautiful, mewling out his love for you. “Mmh, j-jagi, ah~, feels so good. Don’t ever pull out!” You smirked, thrusting even harder, “wasn’t planning to, princess.” He cried out more as he came all over your dick, feeling you continue to pound him harder, finding your release in this overstimulated body. Once you were done, you pulled out, wiping him off and putting on his pajamas, pressing lots of kisses to his face, falling asleep after.

Wednesday

You woke up, yawning and rubbing your eyes open. You walked to the bathroom but before you could fully open the door, a loud moan rang out. You peered through the small opening, watching Jungkook falling apart in the tub. You remembered the first time you corrupted him. He was nervous about doing it for the first time, but you knew there was nothing to be nervous about. He was so anxious, not knowing what to do or what was happening. How could you make him squirt, how could someone insert their fingers there, he had all sorts of questions, questions you would answer just by touching him. “Kookie, you look so pretty, your tits are so squishy.” He turned red, shaking his head, “they aren’t tits, what’re you even saying?!” You quieted him, kissing him back. You pulled out your fingers, barely giving him time to process when you entered him. “This body is mine, everything on this body is mine, I can call it what I want.” He cried out, shaking all over from your hard thrusting. He couldn’t think straight, his mind was blanking and all he could think about was you. You making his nipples feel good, you keeping his hole filled, you giving lots of attention to his clit, you growling into his ear that one day, you’d turn him into your precious doll. When you got up to move, Jungkook whimpered. You looked back at him, his hands grabbing at you, one hand had a golden ring on it, the other, only wanting you. You knew he couldn’t turn back, he was your desperate wife.

Thursday

He had told you he was going to get a new tattoo, one on his arm. When he came back, he showed it to you. Then an idea came to your head, you’d make a tattoo on him. You grabbed a black sharpie and pulled him to your guys’ room. There was clothes scattered from last night as you pushed him down on the bed. You pulled down his pants and his underwear then you got to work. You started drawing on the side of his hip. He was quick to start moaning out as your arm moved dangerously close to his cunt. You finished, capping the marker and looking accomplished. “W-what does it say?” You smiled, taking a picture and showing him. It was a drawing similar to a womb tattoo but by it said something that would make him faint. “It says ‘Daddy’s princess’.” He blushed hard, covering his face. You moved his hands, kissing his lips and unbuttoning his shirt. You went lower, kissing and marking his neck, making him moan out in pleasure. He laid there as you sucked his nipples and more marks on his body. His thighs were completely wet as you fingered him. “Gonna love you up Kookie, just for me and one day, I hope I really breed you.” He sighed with a moan.

Friday

You had a plan, a plan to get Jungkook to further fall into your corruption. You left behind a set on the bed for him, one that barely covered anything and a dress that worked the same way. But you’d play it off as though he was supposed to put on something different. You’d pretend as though you guys were going to a formal event that was planned last minute. You called him down, telling to get ready that his outfit would be on the bed, or was it yours? You told him it didn’t matter just get whatever was on the bed on. When he got into the room, he was shocked, you had forgotten to put his outfit out and left this instead. He couldn’t waste a minute, you guys had somewhere to be! He put on the lacy, almost clear set, his nipples barely covered and his cunt had almost no fabric covering it. He put on the dress, almost translucent on the top and on the bottom. He didn’t like the dress, it barely covered his wet cunt, ending at his upper thighs and you could see how hard his nipples were. You got up the stairs, entering the room to ask if he was ready. “Princess, I get it that you want me to take you but we have to go somewhere.” He shook his head rapidly, stumbling back on the bed scared. “N-no! T-this isn’t what it looks like.” You smirked, climbing on the bed with him. That’s how he ended up against the pillows with his legs on your shoulders, his cunt creamed and his lips swollen.

Saturday

Jungkook had gotten used to the way you wanted him to be, always wet, needy and irresistible. He would wake you up by having his cunt on your mouth, wet and tasty, he’d give you a kiss when you came back home, pulling off his clothes in the process. And at night when he got out of the shower, he’d take the towel off and beg you to take him. You took notice of his constantly needy state, laughing at him for it. You wanted him this way, didn’t you? You wanted him to want you, to beg you to breed him, to make him go insane. “Kookie, you’re being such a good girl for me, so pliant and submissive but being a nympho is no way to live.” He whipped his head around, an angered look on his face, invisible smoke was probably coming out of his ears. “Why you, you did this to me!! Take full responsibility!!” You laughed, bringing him closer to you, putting your hand down his pants, messing with his folds. He sighed blissfully, feeling at ease with your hand where he wanted it the most.

Sunday

You entered the doctor’s office, sitting down with Jungkook by your side. The doctor came in with a clipboard, looking serious. “I have some good news, you’re pregnant Jungkook.” You looked at Jungkook and then at the doctor. “Are you serious?!” He nodded, telling you more things then leaving. You both got to your car, and then you screamed. “Ah, Kookie I’m so happy for you!! We did it, I did it!! My dream came true!” He eyed you suspiciously, “What do you mean you did it?” You stopped with a jolt, looking at him scared. “Yes Jungkook, I wanted to get you pregnant, I wanted to breed you.” Then you jumped on him, trying to take off his clothes. “WAIT!” Then he woke up, breathing heavily and looking around. There you were, sleeping peacefully. He sighed and then went back to sleep, trying to dream a more peaceful dream.

Taglist: @liverspaghett, @aduh0308

[sxckfrxmthxtrxble]

Another month, another very late “hey, new Paranoid Gardens out now.” Comic shop dude also saw me taking a picture, said, “oh. New Gerard Way book! Didn’t even know this existed!” and then walked away without saying anything else, so I’m very incognito and back to having a good day. :)

[missusruin]

ordered my first bjd the other day (!!!) and it probably won't show up for a few weeks/months, but do any doll owners got fave stores for clothes and wigs and whatever else?

[dirty-droid]

So I played through some more dbh last night and woke up thinking, God, there is a good reason Markus and Kara, and their respective companions never got as popular as Connor and Hank. Literally The Bridge is surrounded by the most *do everything for absolutely no reason* chapters, and there's no comparison.

First the Kara chapter wastes your time, she barely gets any small talk in with Luther, then the car breaks down, then you're just doing tiny tasks, doing a shitty sum up of her story so far when Alice asks you to make one up- they could have done something interesting with that story but they chose not to, literally anything specific anything that would function as a parallel to their journey would have actually had some value. Then you barely start a conversation with Luther, where are you maybe get a hint of his personality before we're back to just talking about the plot and Alice, but then it's over again and you meet the Jerries and you learn almost nothing about them.

It is a chapter where you do nothing interesting, and you learn almost nothing about the main characters, for a downtime chapter, I expect character development and get barely a sneeze of it. There is so much room and so much time for you to really push and question your main characters but it just doesn't get used.

Honestly I think the protagonists all could have probably really benefited from the audience getting to hear their internal monologues if they weren't actually going to talk to their companion characters, but even that would just be a substitute for decent writing.

Either way, after that, we come back to Connor and Hank, who do almost no tasks in this chapter, *but spend the entire time TALKING.* They talk to each other in a constant volley back and forth for the entire length of the chapter and it's probably one of the best chapters in the game, it's certainly one of the most important in their story. You spend the entire bridge scene learning more about Hank and Connor's inner worlds, and how they think, and how they feel, you spend the whole chapter learning so much about their perspectives, this chapter is all about asking the hard questions about both of their individual characters, and the tension is high, it's a straightforward chapter to play, and it really fucking feels like your choices matter here, there will be immediate consequences, not just walking through your environment trying to find the right answer, or being dragged through an interaction. It's just plain good.

And then Markus infiltrates the Stratford Tower, and you get the most boring and useless and frustrating chapter in the game that doesn't seem to serve any purpose beyond looking cool. If Kara's last chapter was only to gain sympathy and create some soft and fuzzy feelings, this chapter is only about looking cinematic. This is probably my least favorite chapter in the game, honestly I've just gotten lost on that yellow ass office floor building too many times, even though I'm very familiar with the game now I still managed to get lost again last night.

I will admit that eventually it does become an opportunity to decide between pacifism and violence but that seems to be the only real development for Markus, and it wouldn't have been hard to make that kind of opportunity in another setting. Because we get next to nothing watching him get past the front desk, or from walking around that floor, just some outfit changes and pretending to be a machine and a little more Android hate in the background, Markus is almost completely silent yet again, there is almost no talking with North once she appears. We actually get more about North's personality here than Markus', she just feels like she has more lines somehow, because sometimes she just talks without it being connected to the plot and Markus never does.

This bit is more speculative, but my fiance and I were going off last night about whyyyy did they have to break into the tower? We're never given any reason for what the steps are and why they are important, just usually pretty important in these mission impossible type scenes, they're usually explaining in a voice-over why they are taking the steps that they are taking. But we get no explanation for why he needs to go to the 47th floor or whatever, No explanation for why he needs to change into a maintenance Android uniform, why North was in the stairwell, how Josh and Simon got in, it's all just handwaved, and whyyyyyy they couldn't have just?? Made a recording and then hacked the station's broadcast remotely and basically just posted the speech? I don't know, it's just a particularly frustrating chapter to play, personally, but it isn't strong.

Either way, you've got two chapters with next to no character development, that just have a lot of empty space and time where the characters could have been talking or could have been doing something else, but didn't because the vibes were more important, sandwiching a simple scene with ten pounds of character development and it just feels weird. And once I noticed it, it just made the Kara and Markus chapters look incredibly weak and poorly written... And conversely, make the Connor and Hank chapter look much, much stronger in comparison.

It's like Detroit become human almost needs it's own type of Bechdel Test, just to show how much they fail Markus and Kara. "Do they talk about something that isn't the plot?"

"Do Kara and Luther talk about something that isn't Alice or getting to Canada?" "Does Markus talk about anything besides his speech for this chapter?" "Does Alice talk at all beyond basic communication with Kara?" "Does Markus or his buddies talk about anything that's not the revolution or just Markus himself?"

... They don't pass a lot.

It's just hard to take these characters above simply *likeable* when they just, don't, ever, talk. There's little to no development for Markus or Kara, and because they've just become deviants, there's hardly any character establishment in the first place, they barely even get the chance to just be flat, because if they don't really know who they are, we don't really know who they are.

Connor and Hank's friendship is more functionally the main plot, more so than the deviant investigation, and for Markus and the team, and Kara with Alice, that's simply just not the case, there is hardly any relationship, they're just in the same boat. This is why Connor got astronomically more popular, and why he and Hank have the staying power that they do.

Markus and Kara just don't ever talk, and Connor does. And I'm fucking mad about it. The amount of time that was just wasted in their stories, I could probably take a damn stopwatch to all the moments where there could have been a little something-something, and nothing was put there. It's not to say Connor doesn't get some quiet moments too but he always gets the chance to make up for it.

Even at the beginning of the Stratford Tower chapter, I noticed that they could have had Simon and North talking about something maybe unrelated when Markus walks up, but there's nothing, only silence until Markus comes in with a plan. And of course we know about every time Luther tries to bring up the fact that Alice is an android, only to be shut down and walked away from. It fucking kills me how much time Mark is has the focus of the camera but it's only so he could look cool for a minute, and share no thoughts of his own, none of his new feelings, everything is only implied and then followed by the action where he is only allowed to be the leader of the revolution and never just Markus. There's a tragedy in that, but they could have driven it home harder by *pointing that out.*

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol