#Cw claustrophobia

[maomango-doodle]

Long gone...

Yippee! Here's my comic for @trigunreversebang! It's a Midvalley-centric AU idea I got to work on with the amazing @littlebirby >:D They wrote a captivating fic for it, check it out here!!

[conspicuous-clown-car]

pushing boundaries

[ladybyakuya]

| BLIND + IZUMO HARUICHI.

+cw. — izumo haruichi x f!reader, coworker to lovers, oblivious pinning, flirting, confession, description of panic attack, claustrophobia & coping mechanisms, forced proximity, fluff, angst, character study, smut ( kissing ).

+wc. —3.1k ( shocker )

+syn.— last summer Izumo Haruichi came under your radar but this summer he has managed to get under your skin.

+notes. — part of ‘HELP WANTED’ mini server collab hosted by @interstellar-inn | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @dear-koi @qichun @violet-turning-violet

The refectory of the office is oozing with ruckus this afternoon. It is not unusual but today it is just unbearable. The compartment plate in front of you is still filled with rice, curry, and salad as when you started eating your lunch. The line for the food is still alive; people are gossiping, taking food onto their plates, gossiping, taking spoons and forks, chopsticks— the sound of utensils clanking against each other one after another or sometimes all at once in sync is bugging you today. Your ears should be used to it by now after working for two years straight but it seems like a bother today. It is awfully loud in here. Everything is, even the heat.

Among this hustle and bustle, the only sound that bothers you the most is someone’s voice. It is faint to catch on from where you are sitting but the voice keeps coming to you in bits and pieces, like ebb and flow. Sometimes it is there and sometimes it is not. Sometimes your ears pick up on it but sometimes not and when it does not, your heart waits for it, even searches for the sound to reappear. And the heat is just making it worse. You can practically feel the beads of perspiration cascading through your cleavage as you search, waiting for the voice to turn up again. The air conditioner is on though, and the fans are working perfectly fine but with this kind of crowd, and heat in the dining place is at par with some blast furnaces.

“Well, I can take you there sometimes if you want,” Izumo states as one of the new interns, sitting diagonally to him, places a dumpling from her plate to his. Aoi Kaguragi, Izumo Haruichi, Reno Ichikawa, and Iharu Furuhasi are sitting at one table but Izumo is the most disconnected from them. 

“No. No. Haruichi-san, it’s fine. I can manage.” The girl sitting beside him pleads. A group of four girls who joined as new interns have occupied the table beside them. There is just a slit of partition between the two tables. Most tables are for a group of four people, but cubicle tables are cluttered together to make the team bigger, and better to establish a good workplace culture to some extent. 

Izumo expresses his thanks with a sun-kissed smile to the girl who just gave a dumpling to him, without asking. You make eye contact with him for a second but it's awkward. Aoi's nose shrinks. It acts as a distraction from Izumo’s azure gaze. Aoi stuffs his mouth with the dumpling Izumo just received out of disgust earning an alarming glare from Reno. Izumo does not even bat an eye to it. But the girl protests, “Hey. . .” Aoi glups it before saying, “he hates dumplings.” Iharu is busy eating his lunch. This guy . . . he woke up early, made breakfast for himself, got so busy and immersed with cooking that he forgot to eat. So, he is eating quietly. Reno keeps telling him to slow down but who is he? His dad?

“Well, wouldn't it be easier if you could get some directions and details?” The girl looks confused so Izumo divulges. “I live around there. So, yeah I could get you in touch with some agents if you want,” The girl looks at him with so much hope as if she has a chance to ask for the moon. 

“Oh my God. Really? Thank you so much Haruichi-san,” she chimes

Oh Fuck! Here it comes. Aoi, Reno, and Iharu share a look as you get up. The clank of your spoon was a little too loud to be ignored. Okonogi asks, “You didn’t even eat today too. Are you okay? Do you wanna leave soon today? I can finish your work if you want . . . ” 

“No. Kono-chan. It’s alright. I don’t feel hungry. I will eat when I feel hungry,”

“Yeah, gallons of coffee and tons of cakes,” Kikoru prompts without missing a beat. Your shoulders sink at her statement. She is not lying but gallons? Tons? That’s surely an exaggeration. You take your plate and as you walk past his table he gets up. Please let him not run into you. . . please god, please.

“Going to share the rest with your boyfriend?” He grabs a bottle from its designated section. You watch him walk, pick a bottle, and then come back but he halts in front of you blocking your way. Of course. Why didn’t you expect that? You should have taken a different route. 

“So what if I’m?” you squint your eyes at him since his Adam’s apple shift. Now, that’s different, unlike other days. Your eyebrows jump. Teasing each other is as easy as breathing for you and him. So, you just give in to this golden opportunity. “Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single, Haruichi-san,” you snicker emphasizing ‘Haruichi-san’ since you have already been granted the authority to call him by his name but sometimes it is just amusing how he hates it when you do not use it; even if he specifically said that you can call him Izu-kun or simply Izumo. He just wanted to get included in your league of people; the people who you have given a nickname. It's almost like adopting a puppy.

Izumo rolls his tongue inside, along his bottom lip too quickly to pinpoint his frustration. He is pouting now. His hand proceeds to his nape scraping his hair for a moment in the hope of seeking some respite from this heat. Why does he even keep his hair long? Why not just cut it? Or put it in a bun. Your eyes go to the bunch of interns who are eagerly watching you two as if you are big stage actors. “My flirt game isn’t bad, . . . he trails off and then sighs. His hand swings back in his pocket as clarifies, “It’s just that . . . the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.”

You scan the group of interns at his valor display of vulgarity. Girls must find it hot, don’t they? That’s why he does it, isn't it? Good for him! He has an audience now. You bet they are practically swooning. Aoi’s face is a sight to behold. Iharu has given up. Even Reno has his head tipped down while holding the bridge of his nose. He is not someone who loses patience easily except Kafka Hibino, his mentor and co-worker.

“What a loverboy.” You opined to him before your gaze switched back to the girl who was trying all the ways to get his number. Yeah, it was very obvious especially since she was practically rubbing herself on him since the day she joined. How do people do that? Get hooked onto someone like the twinkle of a star. That too in this heat. It is hard enough to keep coherent behavior, thoughts, and habits intact but now you have another problem, Izumo Haruichi. He is being spectacularly annoying today. 

You look at the girl before saying anything. You will probably be doing her a favor. 

“don’t waste your time on him, he is going to break your heart, girl.” 

The spoon from her hands falls on the dish splashing a little bit of soup on her dress. People have already started to look at this table by now. 

“You’re just jealous,” the girl sneers back.

You part your lips forming an apology at the tip of your tongue but you realize the damage you have done. She hurriedly tries to clean herself with a napkin to avoid eye contact. 

You should not pick on people’s emotions like that, however small, however meek it may seem to you, it's a lot for them. What’s with you today? This is not like you. This is more like  . . . Haruichi. He has this habit. Maybe it's starting to rub off on you simply because he is now working with your team on this upcoming project.

Izumo has always been like this. Flirting with girls, leading them on, giving them hope, and then, breaking their hearts. Does he realize that? The hurt he leaves in his wake? He is like a swan in a lake leisurely swimming in the evening that attracts ducks, influencing them to be like the swan, elegant and beautiful when there is a surge of fresh batches of interns; every year. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it backfires.

His flirting is not limited to just girls. That’s how he became such close friends with Aoi. But then again, it is not exactly flirting. Could it be he is unaware of how he carries himself? Nah! That’s too much of giving him the benefit of the doubt or maybe has managed to charm a part of you. Yeah! That would happen in any case. He picks up on people’s emotions really quickly and does not hesitate to call them out. It’s a nasty habit. 

That is how much you know about him, as a co-worker. Outside this office, he is a total stranger to you. So, you do not have to look out for him, worry about being among the swarm of ducks, he might turn into one, or fearing if there hides a hawk among them.

“That’s too much talking for an intern,” Iharu remarks, taking his plate and standing up.

“I agree.” Reno nods his head. “Wait, what?” He is not surprised by Iharu’s statement but rather his wit. Before the situation gets elongated you try to put an end in your way but whether the bow will pierce the heart or the head you gamble on that.

“Yes. maybe you’re right. That was so rude of me. But you see,” you bow your head a little to match her eye level since her eyes are on her plate. “ I don’t go for committed boys.”

Izumo’s face is aghast. What did you just say? He is not committed. He is single. Excuse you, did you not hear him a while ago? 

Izumo looks at Aoi, clearly uncomfortable and frightened by your burst of bubbling behavior. That was odd of you. He has never seen you this annoyed. He has always been like this with you, teasing and flirting around you with other people. Maybe the heat is going in your head today. You walk towards the dustbin to empty your plate before keeping it on a designated table. Everyone watches you as Izumo follows you like a kicked puppy searching for his owner. It’s pathetic.

He is not pathetic . You are just dumb. How can you not get it? How can you not see it? His feelings for you? Well, not that he exactly laid his heart out in front of you but isn’t it obvious? Everybody on his team is aware of it. Everybody on your team is aware of it. Are you really that dumb? Or do you just choose to ignore his feelings? If it is the latter then he is done for. Perhaps, the fear of abandonment and rejection compels him to create backups while at the same time, it gives him a refuge to hide his feelings; keep them protected, warm, and soft; so that he can still talk to you, still be around you, breathe the same air as you.

After all, who would look for a leaf in a forest?

“Fancy a candy?” Izumo chimes as he leans against the door frame of the archive room while you slide the access card to open the door.

“No thank you.” You tartly reply with a poker face. God, he followed you here, which means he is gonna yap for as long as he is here and God forbid he better not talk about what just happened in the dining hall. 

Izumo mumbles to himself, stepping into the room, “Guess I’ll have it then,” with a pout.

“Did the storage closet door lock behind us?” you ask as the bang of the metal door sends jolts throughout your body.

“I think so,” Izumo walks towards the door to check. He hopes that you are not playing any prank or something but then again, who would like to be stuck in the archive room? Especially in summer when the air conditioner is out of service and the fans have been hopeless since last spring. Izumo hears a loud thud. As he turns he finds you curled up in a fetal position on the floor struggling to breathe.

“Oh no no no no” you blabber feeling the dread and anxiety piling on top of your body. It is getting heavier. Seeing you like that, Izumo forgets what to do. At first, his feet move slowly though, then he quickens his pace but finally skids towards you since his calf muscles betray him.

“Breath. Look at me.” His voice is so faint or maybe you are already sinking in the depth of the attack. You know what to do. The tactic to overcome this. But with people around it gets harder. Most people do not know what to do and even if they did they are only aware of the ‘321’ rule since it is easier to remember, faster to execute, and the default suggestion before the medic arrives. Right. Medic. You can call, right? You touch your hips for your cellphone feeling only your skin and clothes. Your phone is at your work desk. Fuck. Your only hope is this guy, Izumo Haruichi.

“That’s not. . . it. you inhale barely but manage to say the next set of words in one breath. 

“That 321 rule doesn’t work on me.”

Immediately, your chest starts to feel heavy. Your head feels heavy. Your breathing is labored.

“Yes, I know. I know.” Izumo assures. His voice is so still, so even that it gathers all scattered pieces on him finally. “54321 it is.” He adds. He tries to make you sit but you are so stiff under the influence of fear that even with his strength he is in no luck. Moreover, he does not want you to treat him as a threat rather than a cane to grab on.

“Identify 5 things you can see,” 

Your eyes roam everywhere, to the farthest point it can see things. It has already started to itch and water. You blink rashly before mumbling. “Files—you inhale a long breath. “cabinets, AC, tables, chairs” 

“Next. 4 things you can touch” 

“The wall,” you say and touch it. You can finally sit up now, leg sprawled on the hot floor. Next, you touch your i-card. “My ID card.” Then your hair clip. “my hair clip,” unfastening it from your hair letting your hair fall onto your shoulders; it's a turquoise one today, and finally his ID card. You grab it in your hand and watch closely, flipping it too to glance at the other side . What an awful picture of Izumo .

“Your ID card.” 

Izumo holds you by the arms. His touch feels cold against yours. The full-sleeve dress is the only barrier between his skin and yours. Your palms clamp around his upper wrists. 

“Okay, 3 things you can hear:” 

“A.C.” 

“Fans.”

“Your voice,”

Izumo nods every time but it becomes slow at your third pick. 

“2 things you can smell.” It sinks in him: how in desperation and hunger you seek whatever you can get.

You take your scented handkerchief out of your pocket. Izumo takes it and holds it against your nose. Your exhaustive eyes look at him. His perfume smells rather too sweet today. You fall into his chest, embracing him. “Your perfume,” You whisper nuzzling against him. He is still sitting with his legs folded. You can hear his heartbeat, yours too. You are alive. You are very much alive.

“1 thing you can taste,” He says in a low voice, like the start of a lullaby. Reluctantly you pull your face away and look up. At this angle you can see his tongue, it’s white due to the candy. Could it be lichi flavored? There is still a bit of it left, peeking against his teeth.

Curiosity cascades into your body like rain and soaks him wet in a fraction of a second. It is an entirely foreign sensation for Izumo: Your lips are plush and soft with no hint of lipstick. The way your fingers press into his chest is unforgiving to his taut muscles creating a sense of pain, but a different kind of pain; the good kind. You are desperate and forceful. Your lips taste like spicy and honey. What did you have for lunch today? 

WAIT. You break the kiss. Izumo is as stunned as you are. His azure is asking why did you stop? You are still holding on to him. How did he know that the ‘321’ rule does not work on you? Moreover, how did he know that you have claustrophobia in the first place? 

Ah! Now it makes sense.

The realization paints your mind like it's high on drugs. Before you can think twice, your hands trail up to his nape enveloping his face. He instantly pulls you into his lap folding his legs one over the other to make you comfortable. He is swift and strong. This time, he is the one to demand first. The candy must have melted by now. It was coconut-flavored. You do not remember swallowing it neither does he but only the feeling of your lips on his, his on yours. He pulls away from the kiss gasping for air. His mouth and nose are cherry-tinted. He is getting an earful from Aoi for sure.

“I have texted Aoi.” His hands recoil back into his pocket from under your shirt. “He will be here soon.”

Izumo looks at the ground. Is it awkward? Yeah! Definitely. Does he want this to get over with? NO!NEVER. Damn him for wanting you. Damn him for craving you even at desperation like this.

You give him a long hum. “Why do you look like a crumpled receipt? It’s not like I will break your heart once we are out of the room, Izumo.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “Still have to thank you for saving my life.” 

You get out of his lap. He blinks hopelessly. Yeah, his suffering isn’t going to end . You still are as dense as a cabbage and so defenseless, so tactless, by god it drives him nuts. “I love you,” Izumo mumbles to himself. Aoi opens the door as you look at Izumo. 

“What did you just say?” Both of you walk side by side as you two walk out of the room. Aoi is still holding the door.

“Nothing” You continue to scrutinize him with your eyes.  “I said, I hate you.”

You smile. “Yeah! I hate you too.” 

Poor Aoi is still holding the door witnessing the cheesiest corny confession ever.

—

network: @underratedcharactercorner

[artlatrine]

too tight a space, too big a tummy

[whennoonecares]

Okay but: Modern AU for Cody x Obi-Wan, where they live in the same apartment building. Maybe they've shared a couple words before, but I wouldn't call them close.

I'm picturing Obi-Wan as a nurse, and Cody as security for somewhere, but neither job is set in stone.

Because the important bit is: they end up in the elevator at the same time. It stops between floors.

Obi-Wan- having experienced this before and frankly being too tired- sits on the floor. Where Cody- never having experienced this- doesn't freak out as such, but he doesn't feel good about this.

It's a few minutes, the little "Hey, we've phoned the fire department" light comes on, and now it's a waiting game.

Obi-Wan says, "You don't have to stand, you seem tired."

Cody eyes him suspiciously, but sits down.

They get to chatting and find that they'd been in the same brigade, but during different years, let alone all the faces one sees or doesn't while in the military.

It's a nice conversation- keep each other calm, though they weren't overly worried. Maybe nice enough conversation to go for coffee sometime?

[drdt-headcanons]

Nico is incredibly claustrophobic, they do not even like the idea of an enclosed space or not being able to move fully

Given what they said about their dad in the last episode, it doesn’t feel like a stretch to assume they have some scars either mentally or physically

:(

[gabessquishytum]

Everyone is doing trapped in an elevator prompts and every one I’ve read has Dream having the panic attack and Hob comforting him and I love them all…

But I have the reverse stuck in my head and so I’m making it your problem!

Maybe they’re at the same university or something but Dream knows of Hob, this loud brash jock who once tried to buy him a drink at a bar (a mean-spirited joke, surely, the star of the rugby team making fun of the friendless poetry major). He was annoyed the second Hob stepped into the elevator and gave him that wide smile with soft brown eyes…

And then the elevator stops between floors and the lights flicker out and Dream rolls his eyes, prepared to deal with an hour or two of Hob’s prattling as the subtle scent of his cologne fills the small area.

Except Hob falls utterly silent. Dream looks over and sees him sinking to the floor struggling to breathe.

“I’m fine,” hob assures him. He is not fine. Hob has some trauma regarding small spaces. It’s so embarrassing because Hob has had such a crush on Dream and dream already clearly hates him. This is just going to make it worse.

“You are…not fine,” Dream says. It is distressing to see Hob this way. It hurts Dream to see his eyes fill with tears. He kneels beside him calling on all his tactics for soothing his younger sister, Delirium who frequently has panic attacks.

They sit together for two hours and all of Hob’s trauma spills out, how he is an orphan here on scholarship and losing his family made him determined to live his life to the fullest and most joyful every day. Dream holds him in his arms and is forced to realize his impression of Hob was all wrong. And this time, once the elevator is working again, he’s the one who offers to buy Hob a drink at the nearby cafe, because he can’t leave him alone until he gets Hob smiling again.

Love this!! I love it when Hob is the vulnerable one, and Dream gets to take care of him.

Everyone says that Hob is so nice, he's a sweetheart, and despite being a big deal with the sporty kids he has friends all over campus. He gets in fights sometimes but it's always in defence of himself or one of his friends.

Of course Dream thinks that all this is too good to be true. Hob may be sweet and handsome but there must be some underhand reason for all his kindness, surely?

Meanwhile Hob is absolutely bummed that the person he's had a massive crush on since the first semester clearly thinks that he's annoying and awful. Hob (ADHD icon) spent his whole high-school career being told that he was too much, too irritating, too loud. It really hurts that Dream clearly thinks that, too.

So when they get stuck in the lift together, Hob is really really trying not to be annoying. Trying not to breathe too hard or sweat too much. Obviously it just makes him panic more, and he can feel Dream staring at him... and that's when he starts crying.

The next few hours are a bit of a messed up blur for Hob. When he comes back to full awareness he's curled up in Dream’s arms, shaking slightly, snuffling against his neck. Dream is stroking his hair and talking to him and Hob is very much convinced that he's in heaven.

They come out of the lift holding hands, and they continue holding hands in the cafe, and when Hob dozes off with his head on Dream’s shoulder on the bus home... Dream doesn't let go. He's got to admit, he was wrong about Hob. And he can't wait to get to know the boy who's currently snoring into his ear.

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 25 - Flashbacks - Ted Lasso

cw - flashbacks, PTSD, past child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks

Jamie had been working with Doctor Fieldstone on the things that his dad had ruined for him and that caused his panic attacks. But every so often he still accidentally stumbled on something that set off a memory he had forgotten about

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

“Fuck!” Jamie cursed, dropping down onto the moist grass. He didn’t even do anything. He was just running, stopped and was stepping down the curb. His body went down the curb, his ankle didn’t agree with that as an idea and so his body crumpled.

“Shit!” Roy continued the swear word roulette. Before Jamie could think about moving, Roy had his arms underneath Jamie’s and was pulling him back upright.

“I think I’m,” Jamie winced before testing putting weight down on the irritated appendage. “Nope, nope,” Jamie cried out as it buckled again under his weight. He squeezed his eyes shut and let Roy manipulate him. All Jamie’s focus was on making sure his foot did not touch the floor. Until the back of his legs hit on the rear bumper of the G Wagon. The feeling was like a jolt of electricity, piercing through his veins leaving destruction in it’s wake. He couldn’t breathe, his chest was collapsing in on itself. There were hands on him, he didn’t want hands on him.

“Just get the fuck in junior.”

The hands weren’t letting go. He couldn’t struggle. It would hurt more if he struggled.

“We’ve got places to be and you’re the smallest. I’d do it if I could but I won’t fit you hear.” Jamie could feel his dad’s breath on his face and smell the stench of cheap cologne and stale beer.

“I’ll just walk,” Jamie whispered, hands finally reconnecting with his brain to reach up and grip tightly onto his hair.

“Jamie.” Hands gripped at his wrists, trapping him in place.

“Jamie do not embarrass me. If you will not get in there then I will make you. So stupid.” The grip on his wrists was becoming bruising as Jamie struggled in place lashing out with his elbows, his feet, his head anything that would move. But the grip wouldn’t release. The growling of displeasure continued. He was lifted up of his feet and then everything went black.

It was too tight. His dad had said with pride just a few days before that Jamie was a growing lad and would be taller than his dad in no time. That growth spurt height now was betraying him as Jamie tucked his knees into his chest to stop whatever else was in the boot digging into his legs. His head was already throbbing from the hit against the old opened paint can that had been leaking into the boot of his dad’s car for months. It was so dark. Jamie couldn’t even tell if he had is eyes open or not. “You’re lucky mate, kids just ain’t built like they were when I was a young un,” Jamie could hear his dad’s abrasive laugh over the rumbling of the engine turning over.

“Tell you the number of times my old man would take me out and I’d have to sit in the boot as there wasn’t room,” Denbo laughed and there was a chitter of mirroring chuckles from the other occupants of the car.

“Just a part of growing up, George fucking spoils the little leech. Needs a bit of toughening up,” James huffed. Tears prickled at Jamie’s eyes. He pressed his fist against his mouth to bite and try and stifle the pained and scared sobs. He couldn’t be seen crying, not by his dad’s friends, that would just make it a million times worse. He wasn’t some little baby that was scared of the dark. It was his own fault. His dad would have taken off the parcel shelf and there would have been more room if he hadn’t had been a whiny brat. He just needed to get over himself and …

“Jamie, can you hear me?”

Jamie froze in place. That wasn’t one of his dad’s friends. It was too soft, too caring to be someone that would associate with James Tartt.

“He’s stopped the biting, that’s something right?”

Roy? Roy was here? But wasn’t there? Where was here?

“Jamie I need you to open your eyes for me?” the nice voice, not Roy, asked. But Jamie couldn’t do that. He shook his head slightly, too worried about hitting the paint can again to do it further. If he opened his eyes he would just see the darkness and Roy and Not Roy would go away and he would be trapped and alone again. “Jamie, you are on a side road near Richmond Green leaning up against the wheel of Coach Kent’s car. If you don’t believe me you can reach out. Just move your right hand off your lap and you’ll feel the tarmac.” Jamie shook his head again. No matter what the nice voice in his head was saying he couldn’t move his arm because it would hit something and what if it was the bolt cutters?

“Jamie, could you try? I’m, I’m starting to get really fucking worried mate,” that was Roy Kent that time. Jamie would know that voice anywhere. But Roy Kent was worried about him, why was imaginary Roy Kent worried about him and asking him to move his arm. But despite that his arm moved seemingly of it’s own accord. It stretched downwards and collided with a rough, bitty surface. It did feel like a road.

“There you are Jamie. See what that feels like. Focus on that feeling and open your eyes.” Jamie rolled a loose piece of the fine rock over his fingertips. His eyes did inch open to look down at the piece in his hand. It was dark grey and jagged and despite the prickle, felt good in his hand. He wasn’t in a car boot. He was sat on the side of a road with a very concerned Roy Kent holding out a phone with Doctor Fieldstone’s face peering back at him. “Are you back with us Jamie?” Doctor Fieldstone asked and that was enough to start the torrent. Sobs ripped their way out of Jamie and poured all over the pavement like someone had taken a knife to him and just started ripping things out.

He could faintly here Roy thanking Doctor Fieldstone then a hand settled on his knee. Roy could surely feel the small flinch at the contact but he kept his hand there, a settling weight. It was easily identifiable as Roy Kent’s hand, not anything that could be kept in a handyman’s car boot.

“I just want to go home,” Jamie choked out through his tears.

“Ok then lad. Let’s get you home. You wanna choose the music?” Roy offered, opening the passenger seat door with his free hand and leaving it there inviting for Jamie. Jamie nodded, that would help. He could do this. He wasn’t scared of cars. He could get in the passenger seat like the passenger princess Roy always muttered about him being and he could annoy Roy with his music selections. He could do this. This wasn’t going to be another thing ruined by James Tartt.

It was the topic of an emergency session with Doctor Fieldstone the next day, another trigger that Jamie hadn’t been aware of. Another thing ruined by James Tartt Sr. But when he stood a respectable distance away and saw a loving uncle lift a fantastic little blonde veterinarian for wild animals to sit on the edge of the boot so he could clean a scraped knee, Jamie felt like it might be one he could fix.

[3lectricinsomnia]

Adventure gone wrong (more details below cut)

When he was 16, he got trapped after part of a cave collapsed on top of him. He was under there for hours until his family managed to break through and pull him out. He was hospitalized and in a coma for a couple of weeks.

This incident is one of the reasons why Eris’s soul bonds with him so quickly

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day two

Prompt: Solitary Confinement

Prompt from @febuwhump

Tw: violence, claustrophobia (explicit), blood, general brutality, strong Whumper, (if I missed anything lmk, sorry I’m tired)

P.S. — the pronouns for both characters is male, it might get patchy sometimes but just from the outset, okay enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

A hand curling into Whumpee’s shirt and hauling him  out of bed in the dead of night was his wake-up call. Whumpee eyes shot open in the darkness, panic seizing his chest as he seized the wrist of the hand, his legs hit the floor but turned to jelly, his bare feet finding no purchase.

“Wha—!” Whumpee cried in alarm, legs kicking uselessly at his attacker. The hand in his shirt bunched the fabric and another was on Whumpee’s hip. The next thing Whumpee knew they were weightless until his back thumped into the wall across the room, winding them, as they fell to the ground with a dull thud and a gasp.

Whumpee had only got his hands under him when they got a kick to the ribs. It lifted Whumpee’s body off the floor, before another more forceful followed. The impact sent Whumpee back into the wall gasping, his head knocking off the wall leaving him  dazed.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Whumpee?” Whumper’s voice said from above Whumpee, fury hidden behind the eerie calm of his voice.

“Wh—” Whumpee gasped, the words catching in his throat. Whumpee coughed trying to clear it which gave Whumper another reason to kick him in the ribs again.

Whumpee wrestled his arms down over his ribs trying to protect him futilely, but Whumper just kept kicking. The final kick stomped down on Whumpee’s back as they tried to get to his hands and knees. Whumpee hit the floor with a pained oomph.

Whumpee coughed pathetically, rasping in breaths to fill his lungs but every breath felt like a dagger in his chest.

A hand balled into the back of Whumpee’s shirt and started to drag Whumpee out the door of his room into the hall. The fabric of his pyjama bottoms sliding easily across the hall, mixed with the lame sounds of Whumpee’s feet screeching across the wood trying to get to his feet.

“Get up Whumpee,” Whumper told him without letting Whumpee go or slowing enough to let Whumpee get to his feet. Out of sheer will Whumpee pushed themselves to his hands and started half crawling on all fours. Half crawling, because Whumper would pull him at the worst times and Whumpee would slip and have to start the process over again.

Whumper dragged Whumpee to the stairs and didn’t slow or push Whumpee down like Whumpee thought they would. Instead, Whumper dragged Whumpee down the stairs and when Whumpee twisted in his hold Whumper let go and Whumpee tumbled half way down them.

They landed with his back against the railing, mouth open in a silent scream at the fire of pain that raced through his ribs and chest and back. They stared up pathetically at Whumper as he descended, the moonlight and shadows painting him  more like a monster than a man.

Whumper crouched down, catching Whumpee’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching him until Whumpee cried out.

“Look at you. Pathetic. To think I had a bit of respect for you, if I’m honest, that you would even dare to fight against me.”

“Fuck you—” Whumpee said, but his jaw groaned at them, and all that they managed was “uck—ou” but still the sentiment was there.

“Don’t worry, Whumpee, we’ll get that nasty defiant streak out of you yet. I’ll never give up on you. You have too much potential to let you go.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee’s face then sent a swift punch to his cheekbone. Whumpee’s head whipped to the side with the impact, crying out. Whumper’s fingers captured Whumpee’s chin and tilted his head back to stare forward. Another swift punch to the cheek and Whumpee gasped. Whumper stood in one fluid motion and kicked Whumpee down the rest of the steps.

Whumpee landed starfish on the ground, his head bouncing off the ground and rattling his brain. Whumpee grit his teeth when Whumper bunched a hand into the back of his shirt again but Whumpee was ready this time and was already pushing themselves up to his feet.

Whumper yanked him the rest of the way to standing and then shoved him forward.

“Atta boy, Whumpee,” Whumper praised as Whumpee stumbled, catching themselves to stop themselves from falling again. Whumpee strode passed Whumpee, practically skipping as he said, “come along Whumpee.”

Whumpee froze when Whumper opened the door to stairs that led to the basement. Whumpee’s legs were like lead as they approached the door, and looked down to see Whumper grinning up at them. Whumper tilted his head at Whumpee, tsking him for lingering by the door.

“Come now, Whumpee, this isn’t the time to be brave,” Whumper said in his smooth, condescending voice. “You don’t want to be in more trouble than you already are, do you?”

Whumpee swallowed hard, helpless tears pinching at the corners of his eyes. They steeled themselves as they descended the stairs towards Whumper, who, after threatening him had already turned to open the basement door, knowing with complete certainty that Whumpee would follow.

The door was made of steel to ensure it couldn’t be broken down, no matter how hard you tried to claw or punch or scream at it. It didn’t bend, or break, or even flinch sympathetically at Whumpee, it just stood like Whumper: cold, stoic, solid.

Whumpee smothered a gasp when his bare feet hit the cement floor, wrapping his arms around themselves as they shivered. Whumpee stepped further into the basement, dread weighing down heavy on his shoulders.

Whumper… he couldn’t know for sure, right? He couldn’t… Whumpee had been so careful.

Whumpee flinched as Whumper shut the door. The turn of the lock sealing his fate. Whumper hung his overcoat and scarf on the coat rack, he kept the suit jacket on which was good. When he took that off and his tie Whumpee knew they really fucked up.

Maybe he doesn’t know, Whumpee dared to hope. They just stared as Whumper walked around to the wall of torture instruments, eyes and body following every movement.

“Tell me, Whumpee, why do you think I dragged you out of bed at 4 in the morning?” Whumper asked, as his eyes roamed over the many instruments designed to cause Whumpee pain.

“Because you’re a sadistic fuck?” Whumpee supplied sweetly.

Whumper laughed. “Mmm, no, but points for style. Try again.”

Whumpee swallowed, tightening his grip on his arms to stop themselves from shaki— shivering. They were shivering because they were cold.

“I don’t know,” Whumpee said, voice quiet. Whumper looked at him over his shoulder, a coy smile on his face.

“Come on, Whumpee. Tell me again what’s my number one rule in the basement?”

Whumpee trailed his gaze just behind Whumper’s head to the wall of horror, not wanting to look in Whumper’s eyes when he said quietly: “no lying.”

“What was that Whumpee? You’re mumbling.”

“No lying,” Whumpee ground out, angry eyes going back to Whumper’s face. Whumper’s smile only grew as he stared at Whumpee. Then he turned his body towards Whumpee and took a menacing step forward. Whumpee had to fight the urge to take a step back.

“Actually, why ruin a good thing we had going?” Whumper asked, shrugging off his jacket. Whumpee’s blood ran cold as Whumper threw his jacket over the chair that Whumpee had been tied to so many times.

Whumper pulled at his tie, loosening the knot.

“Wait!”

The word was out of his mouth before Whumpee could stop it, fear seizing his throat but Whumper paused and that let some relief flood Whumpee’s body.

Whumper smiled kindly at Whumpee. “Yes Whumpee?” He asked innocently.

Whumpee licked his lips, searching for a tangible reason they asked for Whumper to stop other than to delay the inevitable beating.

Whumper tilted his head to the side, lips forming a pout. Whumpee’s heart slammed against his chest, his mind racing as they tried to form a single reason to stop Whumper.

“Why did you bring me down here?” Whumpee tried. If they tried hard enough they could try and play innocent.

Whumper’s smile left his eyes but stayed on his lips, reminding Whumpee of a stray cat who was killing mice just for fun when they were already full.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Whumpee,” Whumper said simply, a smile in his voice as he undid his tie and left it loose over his white button down. Whumper took a step towards Whumpee and this time Whumpee matched it with one back.

“Whumper please,” Whumpee pleaded desperately. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

Whumper shrugged, matching Whumpee step for step. “It’s never bothered me before that you don’t know the reason.”

Whumpee stepped around the medical table, putting it between them, giving him some space from the predator stalking them.

“Yes,” Whumpee blurted. “Yes it has!”

That caused Whumper to pause. “Explain.”

“You— you,” fuck Whumpee! Explain! “You want to teach me a lesson, right? Lesson 1: the golden rule, no lying right? You can’t just attack me for no reason or— or I won’t learn how I disappointed you, right?!”

Right?

Whumper let out a bark of humourless laughter that could curdle Whumpee’s blood. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, his mind screaming at him to run.

“You know what Whumpee…” Whumper trailed off thoughtfully. “You are right. I do like to teach you lessons. Although, clearly, I need to re-educate on what I constitute as lying. You do remember that omissions count as lying.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip started to wobble, so they bit it to keep it from trembling as Whumper stepped around the table.

“Remind me again,” Whumper said with a step forward, “how did we rectify that situation? How did I teach you about lying?”

Whumpee blanched. “No. No. Nononono,” they protested, backing up as they spoke, hands raised defensively in front of him when his back hit the wall. “No, Whumper please— anything but that, please!”

Whumper grinned, showing his teeth at seeing Whumpee had nowhere else to go. So he took his time in advancing on Whumpee, focusing on the dramatic, really wanting to scare the shit out of Whumpee.

“Oh Whumpee…” Whumper sighed. “Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee,” he said, punctuating each use of Whumpee’s name with another step until he was right in front of Whumpee, looking down on Whumpee with that toothy, wolfish grin.

Whumper reached a hand up to thumb away the tears on Whumpee’s face. Whumpee flinched at the contact. They were shaking violently, wanting to shove Whumper’s hand off him but they didn’t want to do anything to aggravate him further.

“Whumpee, this punishment will go away if you just tell me, honestly why I brought you down here. Hmm?”

Whumpee swallowed the lump in his throat trying to get rid of it, but it stayed stubbornly lodged there making it harder to breathe to speak to think.

They couldn’t give up Hero Caretaker… they couldn’t. They didn’t want Whumper to find him too and torture them. Not after everything that Hero had done for them… offering him the brightest ray of hope Whumpee hadn’t seen before. A way out of Whumper and his cruel contracts.

More pressing was the very real fear of going back into that… that cage. Where Whumpee couldn’t move an inch without hitting the edge, unable to think, or scream, or fight back at all.

There was also the chance that Whumper didn’t know about Hero at all, and if Whumpee confessed then Whumper would get more mad and punish him harsher.

“I know you hate the cage, but if it’s the only thing that’ll loosen your tongue then it’s the only way I can punish you.”

“Whumper please, anything but that,” Whumpee begged. “I’ll kneel— I’ll do whatever you want just pl— ple—”

“Shhh, shhh, sh, Whumpee. It’s okay. This is your last chance. Why are you down here?”

A helpless rush of adrenaline crawled vicious up Whumpee’s throat and they did all they thought they could. They shoved Whumper back and when he was far enough back, Whumpee kicked him  back further and then ran for the wall of weapons.

They had only managed to just grasp a knife when Whumper was on them, shoving Whumpee forward.

Whumpee’s face hit off the wall, but they got his palms on it and pushed back. A hand snaked into his hair and slammed his head once, twice, three times into the wall. Warm blood trickled down Whumpee’s nose, before Whumper disoriented Whumpee by yanking him backwards. It was a harsh pull to the dazed Whumpee who fell straight backwards, his skull hitting off the cement.

Light flashed behind his eyes at the impact. The next thing they knew Whumper was on top of them, his polished shoe crushing Whumpee’s knife wielding wrist into the cement while he rested his forearm against Whumpee’s windpipe not letting Whumpee up for air.

Whumpee struggled sluggishly against Whumper’s hold, gasping without air like a beached shark.

“God, I love it when you pick the hard way, Whumpee,” Whumper sang above Whumpee. Though it was getting hard to see him  with the blackness encroaching his vision. Whumpee felt Whumper pluck the knife from his grip with ease. Whumpee fought back, trying to move but all they did under Whumper was manage a pathetic wiggle.

Whumper let up on Whumpee’s windpipe and Whumpee gasped in air greedily. Then choked on it and sputtered at the rush of oxygen flooding his lungs.

“A knife, hmm?” Whumper asked, eyes bright as he eyed the deadly edge. “Were you going to stab me Whumpee? Tut tut.”

Whumper slashed the knife across Whumpee’s face and Whumpee cried out, struggles renewed under Whumper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Whumper chastised, pressing the blade against Whumpee’s throat causing Whumpee to still. Whumpee actually stilled.

Whereas before he would’ve dared Whumper to kill him , after Hero he suddenly had something to live. Hero had given him  hope, and now Whumpee couldn’t even call Whumper’s bluff in case he followed through with the threat.

Whumper smiled down at Whumpee. “Look at you. Practically docile. You know what, because you tried so hard Whumpee. Last chance to tell me why you’re here.”

Whumpee swallowed, feeling the blade on his adams apple. “Go fuck yourself, Whumper.”

Whumper’s smile widened. “Good.”

Whumper got off Whumpee, hand bunched in his shirt to lift him again. Whumpee struggled this time. Hard. He hit Whumper’s chest, brought his fist down on Whumper’s hand trying to loosen his hold on Whumpee but it was as if Whumpee was doing nothing. As if he was nothing more than air that Whumper could pass through with ease.

Whumper dragged Whumpee, kicking and screaming, over to the box in the corner, the one Whumpee didn’t want to see.

“You fucking bastard! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Okay,” said Whumper and threw Whumpee to the ground while he opened the door to the cage. It was only the size of a locker but could fit a person in quite uncomfortably. Whumpee had enough room to stand, but not enough room to turn, his shoulders wedged tightly inside. Whumpee tried to crawl away from it, but Whumper caught him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.

“Whumper—”

“In you go Whumpee,” Whumper said sweetly, two palms placed on his chest and shoving Whumpee into the cage.

“No! Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, trying to wiggle themselves free in time to stop Whumper from closing the door but Whumper’s smile was the last thing Whumpee saw before the door slammed closed and Whumpee was left, trapped inside the metal prison.

His nose was an inch from the door, his breathing already ragged and echoing off the cramped metal.

“You know, Whumpee,” Whumper said from outside, voice muffled by the thick metal. “I think I might pay that Hero of yours a visit while you’re in there.”

“No!” Whumpee screamed, tears already falling as they bent their arm at the elbow and banged on the door. “Whumper let me out! Let me out, please! Whumper! Don’t touch Hero! Let me out, Whumper please!”

Whumpee kicked the door a few times, their chest tight and heaving in gasping breaths but they weren’t getting enough air, and oh god the whole time Whumper knew about Hero?!…

If… if Whumpee had just told them they wouldn’t be in here.

Whumpee wheezed, trying to get in breath but it wouldn’t fill his lungs quick enough and when it did it was gone just as fast as Whumpee tried to blink back tears and kick the door down, the pounding of their kicks echoing off the metal, deafening, but not quite as loud as Whumpee’s heart that thundered from their chest and seemed to hit every wall of their prison.

“Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, pleaded, begged. “Whumper please! I’m sorry! Whumper! Whumper! WHUMPER?!”

Whumpee broke down into a fit of sobs, unable to control anything in their body. Their brain screamed fight or flight, and Whumpee would lose a physical fight against the metal that surrounded every inch of their body.

“Whumper,” Whumpee sniffed, banging uselessly against the metal. “Whumper come back, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY FOR LYING, WHUMPER!”

Whumpee didn’t know how long Whumper left them there. Time didn’t seem to matter much when your body was fighting with itself. Eating itself with fear.

It felt like years.

Maybe Whumper would leave them there for years.

Maybe Whumpee would die in that box.

That just set them off again. Screaming, pleading, crying. It felt as if Whumpee went through the five stages of grief on repeat for hours on end, all except Acceptance.

Whumper smiled as they left the basement to Whumpee’s broken voice bargaining with them to let them out.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Sleep Paralysis: Collab'oween Day 1

GN!Reader/Male!Unspecified Creature.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; Maybe feeings of claustrophobia and references to the ocean; Fear of death but no physical harm to reader; Utter helplessness; Cunnilingus/Analingus (you can read as either, I don't specify genitals for reader); Penetrative sex; Creature man has a prehensile pp; 3rd person POV.

Word Count: 2080.

Notes: I'm not doing all of the days, just the six prompts I wrote! Please make sure to check out all of us doing this together: @undead-merman @letstalktea @inkyquince @angrelysimpping Also big thanks to Merman for making the banner and divider and all of their wonderful work on this project.

It gets closer each night. They know as the sun fades, as their eyes shutter closed and the warm fingers of Hypnos keep their lids heavy that it's only a matter of time before the personification of sleep partially releases his hold on them and that reality will blend with their nightmares. 

For months it's happened every night. They awaken without control of their body, not even able to blink, as eyes watch from the darkest corner of their room. It's just a trick of the mind, they know this, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying. 

They'd gone to their doctor. Been referred to get a brain scan by a specialist to ensure it wasn't anything malicious causing the paralysis. All tests came back fine. They were sent home with pills and a regiment to follow. None of it had helped. The only time it ever left was when the dawn broke. Winter was on the horizon. Shorter days. Later dawns.

Then, they'd thought that it wouldn't be able to hide in the dark if there was no darkness. They'd filled their room with nightlights in every corner, left them on as they went to sleep, confident that they'd finally be able to get through the night. They hadn't. The creature cared not for the lights strewn about the room. It was a void of blackness, sucking in the light and refusing to let any stray ray out of its grasp. 

Fine then, it's sunlight it doesn't approve of. UV lamps were bought and installed. Their electricity bill would suffer, so they tried to stay away from electronics during the day to compensate. There was a pile of unread books just begging to be read, afterall. Yet, as night fell and sleep abandoned them once more, the creature remained in its corner. The blue hue of the UV lamps only made it more threatening. Cold, sterile. Dead. 

They couldn’t even sleep through the day. Something pulled at them, keeping them awake even as they lay with their eyes closed in their bed with the room made as dark as they could for the day. Only when the moon was out could they find a fraction of rest.

After months, they found themself getting used to the creature. It was a black blob with (admittedly creepy) eyes - no discernable features, no intent of ill-will it would seem. It just wanted to watch them through the night. 

It just had to move, didn't it? It had to reach a clawed hand it had never seemed to possess before out toward them, its frozen form a threat again for the first time in a long while. The skin (If it had skin) was a black as the void it made; it was hazy due to the smoke that rose from the flesh. The only part of it that continued to move. The smoke. 

Perhaps it was the home. The place they lived was haunted, wanting to torment the poor soul living within. With little money left due to the lamp expenses, they desperately pushed every new lamp into a large box and took it to a car-boot sale. They were all new, but half price anyway. They just needed enough for one night in a local hotel. Just one. To see if it would work. 

Each night that passed as they sold the lamps, the creature got closer. Like it knew. More limbs came out from the haze; the other clawed hand, long seemingly muscled legs, the torso unfurling and appearing to be as large as the rest of it. A beast. A tall beast that could rip someone apart just by strength alone. Still it's face remained shadowed, the smoke dripping down like hair.

Not every lamp was taken, but enough so over the weekend event that they had the money to stay in a hotel. A single bed, no TV, shitty water pressure in the shower. It was only on the first floor but the windows were painted just all the same. At least it smelled clean.

Hope sent them to sleep that night - a tentative hope that was on the verge of snapping as each second ticked by on the old clock on the wall. 

That hope snapped the second their eyes opened with the street lights sneaking through the curtains. It was here. Worst of all, it was closer than it had ever been. Crouched on the edge of the bed, tall frame leaning over so that it looked down at them with those bright white eyes. This close it was easy to see that there was no pupil. No iris. Just white. 

Tears welled that they could not blink away, blurring their vision and making the creature even harder to make it. Panic grasped them tightly, their heart hammering in a chest that refused to twitch. They needed to breathe more, to take in deep, filling breaths. But they could only take in standard breaths as their head began to swim. It felt like being suffocated. 

If they could scream, they would. Especially when it moved right in front of them. It never moved when they could see. Never. It was now. That elongated hand reaching down, a claw tracing the path of the tears as they fell down their face into their hairline. Some of the tears fell into their ears. It made them itchy. 

The creature didn't keep its attention to their face. Its claw wandered down their body, pulling the blanket with it as it exposed them to the cold air of the hotel room. Their pyjamas were lifted, their tummy exposed. Would it start there? Rip of their innards and eat them as they could do nothing to watch? 

Slowly, it pressed its hand flat to their skin. The warmth was a surprise. A creature of such darkness should emanate frost, but its flesh bordered on burning as it pressed down. Would it crush them? Would it contribute to the suffocation that felt it was taking hold? 

It would not. At least, it wouldn't yet. Every touch was gentle as it flipped them over, every adjustment it made of their body made for their comfort as their head was turned to the side so that they could breath with their body laying on their front. It didn't feel right. It shouldn't be so gentle. 

The tears from their left eye now fell over the bridge of their nose and into the eyeline of the other. It merged with the other falling tears as they wet the pillow. 

Beside from the ruffling of clothes and the creaking of the old mattress, the room had been silent. As had the creature. No neighbouring rooms made bangs or bumps in the night. A harsh ripping broke the silence. Their clothes. The creature was removing their clothes. Tearing it to shreds with its knife-like claws and discarding the fabric on the carpeted floor below. 

Goosebumps rippled over their skin as the night's air fell on it. The creature's flesh was the only warmth they could wish for - and they couldn't only wish that it would stop and leave them alone. 

It was a coward. Turning them over so that it didn't have to look in their wide eyes as it tore them apart from behind. Taking their clothes as a butcher would a pelt. Taking advantage of their sleep condition, or perhaps causing it itself so that they couldn't run or fight back. 

Such a strange thing, to feel anger after all of that fear. If creatures like this beast could wander the earth, then perhaps their anger would fuel their spirit enough to find a second life after death and seek vengeance on the wretched thing. 

Despite the feeling that they couldn't breathe, they did not pass out. They wished they would, that they could drift off into nothing before they would feel the beast's claws in their back. This mercy would not be for them. 

And neither would the claws. Not as the creature lowered itself, the bed shifting as its long legs came to sit on the floor and its hidden face lowered to the back of their thighs. 

A tongue, long and thick, teased up their thigh until sharp fangs nipped at the flesh of their ass. The tongue returned quickly, flickering as it found its way to their hole. 

More anger. More rage filling their heart as they desperately plead with their libs to just move. Just the littlest amount of movement - a twitch, anything! Nothing would come. 

It kept poking, prodding, lapping away at their exposed hole while disgusting pleasure whispered up their spine and choked their breaths. ‘Stop,’ they tried to beg. To scream it until their throat would bleed. But what was the use? They’d been begging for months and yet no one was listening. If there was a god or even multiple of them, they’d long since been forsaken to this demonic presence. 

There’s a strength to the beast. It lifts them as if it were nothing, their limp body folding as it hoists their hips up and presses it’s face even deeper into their core; that damned tongue flattening and giving a smooth, languid lick that has their eyes rolling back in their head. It should have stopped at this indignity. Why didn’t it just stop there?

It took its fill of their hole, still following with its tongue as it lowered their body back onto the mattress. As if it couldn’t bear to part with them. And sure enough, its stocky form rose over them again, that red-hot skin pressing to their back as something new wriggled and writhed against their saliva-dripping core. It meant to mount them.

One last push. One last demand for a finger to curl, to prove that they weren’t locked away inside of their own body. Underneath its body. A wall of flesh pressing down, closing in and taking away all of the air in the room as their anger slowly drained into sorrow.

That tentacle-like cock of the creature burrowed its way into them, spreading them open and penetrating deep. Strange guttural noises were snarled by their head, the beast having its pleasure while their tears returned. Every thrust of the hips was more like a roll, like a wave coming in toward the beach and retreating once more. It was graceful, powerful, threatening to take them away with it into the depths below. 

How could they swim against the tide without the ability to move? How could they possibly stop the water from encasing each and every part of them, leaving not a single inch of skin dry? 

Their mind refused to wander away, instead it focused on the smell of burning the creature emanated. It grasped onto every touch and grab the creature made at their skin. It couldn’t kick or scream anymore. Just like the body it inhabited. God, they were so tired.

Sweat gathered on their skin, the heat from their creature making it feel like a sauna in the cheap room. Sharp nips were given to their neck and shoulders, fanged teeth having a taste or maybe even marking what belonged to it. Its tongue came back to clean their cheeks of tears. 

Why did it have to feel so sweet? The slow build to the orgasms that hit in waves matching its hips pulling in and out. Its cock moved by itself while it would thrust, slowly undulating, causing their throat to seize from how intensely their nerves lit on fire for it. 

Almost. Almost they were freed from being there. It was exhausting being used so thoroughly, their eyelids were heavy and promised the sweet release of unconsciousness. It never came.

Who's to say how long it stayed on top of them that night. They couldn’t see the clock, couldn’t say when the beast woke them from peace. It stayed until the sun’s rays peaked through the cheap old curtains. But it left with a promise, a lingering hand on the back of their neck as it rose up, thumb rubbing over the freshest bite. It would be back. 

They still felt numb when control returned to their limbs. Felt numb for the rest of the day until night fell once more and that fear built. All they could focus on was the fact that the semen dripping from their hole never cooled in their frigid winter air seeping into the room.

[thegirlwholikesstims]

the buried

with dirt, cave, and coffin stims

🪦 🪦 🪦

🪦 🪦 🪦

🪦 🪦 🪦

divider by @saradika-graphics

[egginfroggin]

hi! i’d be interested in hearing more about the dying of the light AU if you don’t mind sharing any thoughts or details!

Hi! I don't mind, just lemme scrape my brain real quick (so many thoughts).

Honestly, the Dying of the Light AU has been giving me some issues as far as the ending goes, but other than that, I have a few ideas.

This got. so long. so, again, there's a break put in place further down.

We're dragging Kyurem into this, first of all

after Emmet "snaps," you could call it, and completely loses control of his powers, Reshiram amplifies it to the point of halting the ongoing autumn, replacing it with summer-like heat and causing a massive drought that starts to spread out from its epicenter around Nimbasa/Route 4

Once Reshiram's involvement is confirmed, it's decided that the other dragons will be brought into this

Ingo, chosen by Ideals, will pursue Zekrom, and hopefully that will help tip the scales in his favor, helping him root out the deceit Reshiram speaks of and reinstating Truth without Unova crumbling

Iris and Drayden both go after Kyurem, and do eventually find it; however, Kyurem will only help them if they give it something in return

They both wind up being roped into a bond with it, agreeing to give it their time and attention, which it seeks after a long time hidden away from people and its own siblings

The intent is to essentially use Kyurem's ice and cold to combat Reshiram's heat -- winter is summoned against summer, and the result is a sort of flaky half-season, somewhat like spring and autumn at the same time, though the cold is more extreme around Kyurem's location and the heat is more extreme around Reshiram's location

Content warnings for burns, claustrophobia, and possession under the cut! And thank you very much again for the ask, Anon! I hope you have a very good day! ^^

Reshiram is definitely doing some possessing by the way

In Reshiram's defense, Emmet can't be trusted to not run off and mess up its plans, so. yeah

Also, speaking with mortals is far easier when one has the approximate appearance of a mortal so there's that too

Zekrom doesn't so much as possess Ingo as it does reside within him/follow him around. It will speak through him at times, and certainly bolster him, but it rarely if ever just up and snatches his body to go do something

Kyurem does not care about possessing people it just wants a friend and thinks its siblings are being overly dramatic

I somewhat implied it in And Learn, too Late, but the twins actually have a few dislikes/phobias related to their respective Dragons! Ingo dislikes having his Ideals and intentions restricted, and has a mild case of claustrophobia; this is mean to reflect Zekrom's weakness to ground, as being enclosed makes Ingo feel restricted and like he's being put under pressure (i.e., a coffin or being entombed) Emmet's aversions are more prominent due to the strength of Reshiram's gift/influence on him; detecting deceit and lies makes him feel physically ill, and he has a severe aversion to deep water and pouring rain

Drayden and Iris don't really have any issues after they connect with Kyurem, as their dynamic with the Dragon differs from the twins' and their respective Dragons; it's more of a mutual agreement that they're bound to, rather than a direct piece of power being imbued as a gift and a connection

Going off of this logic and that of the above point, I suppose that that would mean that after Ingo finds Zekrom and his own gift is strengthened, he would have worse claustrophobia

Similar to the accident that happened in Iced Tracks, Emmet accidentally hurt Ingo when they were little; only, in this case, it involved fire, and Ingo's clothes caught, leading to pretty severe burns on his arm, side, and part of his jaw; they healed well, but the trauma of the situation combined with him passing out made him forget :< Emmet had no such "luck," he just dead-up remembers ("Dragons, Truth irrefutable, Truth before him, he knew how skin melted," from The Sun in Flight)

Emmet is not immune to his own powers, though the worst damage is done when it manifests physically, such as when he forms flames or embers

Much of the damage that he's unintentionally inflicted on himself comes from accidentally setting his cuffs on fire, burning his wrists and arms, or from conducted heat searing his palms when he's holding something

He doesn't wear gloves anymore

He doesn't leave fingerprints anymore, either

(He's not made to contain so much power, he's kindling for a pyre he has no choice but to light, and only the power of Reshiram itself can keep him safe from its own curse of a gift)

On a lighter note, someone asked in a comment on The Sun in Flight if Emmet wore gloves or not, and if his powers affected his clothes since he can burn things so easily

For the sake of his decency -- and my sanity -- I'm basically handwaving the matter of his powers not just burning off all his clothes as magical interference; if his cuffs caught, maybe it could spread if he let it, but that would also hurt, so he doesn't

This being said, though, Reshiram basically fireproofs his body when its possessing him

And with that being said, I couldn't resist this entirely silly mental image: Reshiram: ugh, mortal's clothes are so restricting, why do you even bother with such a nuisance -- Emmet: IF YOU BURN MY CLOTHES OFF AND MAKE ME RUN AROUND UNOVA NAKED I WILL PERSONALLY STRANGLE YOU YOU STUPID BALL OF FEATHERS

So Emmet gets to keep his clothes (thank goodness)

Thank you, Anon! ^^

[cynicalrosebud]

Kinktober Day 19

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Gags, Mummification, Hoods, Restraints, BDSM

Prompt: Mummification + Sensory Deprivation

Pairing: Ghost x Rumor

The rest of Kinktober

The dimly lit room was steeped in anticipation, the air thick with unspoken tension. Rumor lay on the bed, tightly wrapped in layers of soft, yet unyielding fabric. He could barely move, his senses heightened by the mummification that left him completely vulnerable. A soft penis gag filled his mouth and throat, muffling any sound he might make, while a bondage hood obscured his sight, plunging him into darkness. The only part of his body still exposed to the air was his cock, twitching in suspense in the cold air.

Ghost watched from the shadows, an approving smirk on his lips as he took in the sight before him. Rumor’s body, encased in the snug bindings, looked exquisite and utterly helpless. He relished the power of the moment, knowing that Rumor trusted him completely.

“Ready, love?” Ghost’s voice was a low rumble, but Rumor couldn’t respond, the gag holding back any words. Instead, he felt the rush of anticipation as Ghost stepped closer, the warmth of his presence radiating through the room.

Ghost’s fingers grazed the fabric wrapped around Rumor’s torso, and he let out a soft whimper, excitement coursing through him. Every touch was electrifying, each caress drawing out his vulnerability. The sensory deprivation made the world outside fade away, leaving him fully attuned to Ghost’s hands exploring his body.

Ghost leaned in, pressing his lips to Rumor’s neck, trailing kisses down to his collarbone. The sensation sent shivers racing through Rumor’s body, and he squirmed against the restraints, the thrill of being completely at Ghost’s mercy intoxicating.

“Just relax and let go,” Ghost murmured against his skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. He tightened the bindings slightly, the added pressure making Rumor gasp behind the gag. “You’re safe with me.”

Rumor’s heart raced as he surrendered completely to the sensation, the thrill of being so exposed pushing him further into bliss. Ghost’s fingers danced over him, tracing delicate patterns that made his skin tingle. He could feel the tension building, a heat pooling low in his core, but he knew Ghost had other plans.

“Do you want to come?” Ghost whispered, the question reverberating through Rumor’s body, awakening every nerve ending.

Rumor responded with a muffled whimper, his body aching for release, the pressure building with each teasing stroke Ghost gave him.

But just as Rumor felt himself teetering on the edge, Ghost pulled back slightly, denying him the release he so desperately craved. “Not yet,” he purred, relishing in Rumor’s frustration.

The sensation of denial was almost too much, and Rumor writhed against the bindings, his breathing quickening behind the gag. He was lost in a haze of pleasure and frustration, every muscle taut with need.

Ghost chuckled softly, clearly enjoying Rumor’s desperate state. “You’ll have to earn it, love. Just trust me, and I’ll take you there.”

With that, Ghost resumed his teasing, his hands exploring Rumor’s body with deliberate slowness. Rumor could feel Ghost’s warmth enveloping him, could sense the hunger in his touch, and it drove him wild. The mummification only heightened the sensations, leaving him breathless and craving more.

“Just a little longer,” Ghost murmured, his fingers working their magic, each movement calculated to build the tension even further. “I promise it will be worth it.”

Rumor’s body responded instinctively, the intense pleasure building within him, each teasing caress pushing him closer to the edge. The gag muffled his cries, but his body betrayed him, every twitch and squirm a testament to his desperation.

Finally, with a teasing smile, Ghost pushed Rumor over the edge, the intense sensations washing over him in waves. As pleasure flooded through him, Rumor realized that in this moment of sensory deprivation, he had never felt more alive, more connected, and utterly fulfilled in Ghost’s embrace.

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

stimboard for : q!philza (qsmp) with imagery of caged birds, dark/enclosed spaces, and chains

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[initial-lime]

Y’all ever think about pressure?

Just having an insurmountable weight over you,,,,,,

So. Crushing. At first it’s comforting and then adrenaline kicks in as you realize the weight is so grave you can’t even thrash around.

I imagine it’s much like being a bug in amber, of course amber isn’t particularly heavy but could you imagine as the resin hardens around you in a fit so snug you can’t even open your mouth to breathe,,,,,

Stunning.