#I am incapacitated and I hate it

[suchawrathfullamb]

Saint Hannibal/Devotee Will tale

It was a slow descent, or perhaps an ascent, depending on the eye that beheld it. Will Graham arrived at the monastery as a man burdened by his own trembling mind, the fever of his visions mistaken for affliction. But in that place of stone and candlelight, his ailment became something else: a gateway. The monks saw in him what they had seen in others before—a fragile soul, writhing in the hands of God.

It began with the visions. Saint Hannibal, the Devourer of Shame, came to him in dreams first, his face luminous with something more than holiness. There were whispers in the corners of the cloisters, the murmurs of the faithful who spoke of the saint’s secret teachings. Will listened. He listened until listening was not enough. He followed the traces left in hidden texts, in faded frescoes, in the subtle ways the monks averted their eyes when speaking his name.

Saint Hannibal had chosen a devotee before—Clarice Starling, the woman buried beyond the eastern wing, her grave unmarked save for a single alabaster relic clutched in her still hands. It was there that Will found it, a smooth, ancient thing, cool beneath his touch. He brought it to his lips. The first time was reverence. The second was indulgence. By the third, he understood that ecstasy was its own form of worship.

When the monks found him writhing before the altar, his back arched, his breath labored, they called for exorcism. But Will did not fear their rites, for he had already been touched by his saint, already purified in his own way. The body is a threshold, he knew this now. The heat overtook him, a pleasure so complete that it burned, and the world around him swayed, the monastery bending into something else. He fled, chased by holy men with their books and their prayers, down into the catacombs where the air was thick with incense and rot.

The tomb was waiting. Saint Hannibal lay there, just as Will had seen in the depths of his mind—not as dust and ruin, but as he had been in life, perfect and whole, his body radiant beneath the stone. Will wept. He kissed the bones that were not bones, pressed himself into the corpse that was not a corpse, and in that union, he ceased to be merely Will. He became something else: lover, acolyte, sacrifice. His final breath left him not as a gasp, but as a prayer.

By the time they found him, he was draped over the remains, his body cooling against the relics of his saint. In the flickering torchlight, the monks saw only madness, desecration, possession. His devotion became legend, his name lost beneath the weight of condemnation. But deep in the catacombs, where the air never stirred, something watched. Something listened. And somewhere beyond the veil, a spirit smiled.

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Bleh

[ziracona]

I’m actually I think maybe more mad about the treatment Ethan got in that film. People talking about him like he’s James Bond and I will not stand for it. He’s never disrespected or diminished a female agent and he’s NEVER let a GF die not even in MI2 which was so bad it was retconned (unless I guess you count MI OG?? Like I wouldn’t but). He’s just nice. Benji has played damsel in distress more than anyone in the series. Furious they would even TRY to paint him that way.

[strawberrysweater]

i hate having a bodyyyyyyy

[lokisgoodgirl]

Delicate [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: As Loki recovers from injury - he needs the sweetest balm to heal him: you (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Fluff. Avenger! Loki x Female Reader. Description of injury (no blood) In my feelings.

Your fingers trail down the centre of Loki’s sternum: tender, purple splotches soaked into his skin like dye. They've barely faded in the month that’s passed. His trademark ivory skin is like a storm cloud and, if you watch for long enough, you’d swear it ripples. He holds his breath, face set in stoicism, lips pressed together in a thin white line.

He forces a pained smile against his cheeks. “Good as new,” he lies.

“Bullshit,” you reply.

Loki releases the breath, head falling back against the pillows.

“I hate this,” he mutters. A month ago, almost to the day, his torso was nearly decimated when he jumped on a huge explosive meant to kill the entire team.

Not just the team, you remember. The city.

He’s lucky, they say. But it’s more than that. His magic was strong — it was strong enough — but only just. There isn’t an inch of him that hasn’t been healing these past weeks: no inch un-hurt.

Well, that’s not true…there was an inch that escaped unscathed. Nine, actually.

His powers re-generate the damage with every hour that goes by — but Loki’s never been one for patience. “I feel useless,” he snaps. “What good am I to you like this?” You stroke hair back from his face, and his blue eyes slide to meet yours. “You deserve better, darling,” he says seriously. “You have needs — I insist you take your pleasure elsewhere. Lang, Barton, Rogers, even..."

His gaze drops, and he looks up under a fringe of ebony lashes. "But someone inferior to me, that is all I ask.”

You almost shove his shoulder in reprimand before stopping yourself. He sighs again. “We can’t go on like this: you fellating me with dutiful care, and me unable to reciprocate.”

He glances at you with such weighty desolation that you almost burst out laughing as he says, “I feel like my brother — it’s terrible.”

And that does it. Your vision blurs as you pick up a pillow and bury your face in it: cackling. “What?!” he sniffs, affronted. “I have been incapacitated of my greatest boon.”

You surface from the pillow, tears of laughter smeared down your cheeks. “Greatest boon?!?” He gestures to the hard-on pitching the covers with a wilting sigh.

You trail a finger down his bicep on the side nearest you: the side that’s almost healed, but you don’t think he’s noticed. His skin is pure, pale velvet from his shoulder to his hipbone like a tan-mark.

“It doesn’t look incapacitated to me,” you say, eyeing his crotch, knowing what will happen. But you can’t resist. There’s something undeniably erotic about having him like this: needy, frustrated, a little insecure. A short puff erupts from his nostrils. “You can’t go on top: too painful. I can’t go on top: too painful. On my knees? Reverse —?” You place a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth. “I love you, Loki,” you whisper, feeling the skin shiver beneath your touch. “I don’t want anyone else- sex or no sex. I’d wait forever if it meant you healed, but…I think I know something that might work.” Loki’s face immediately tilts to you and his features flinch with the sudden movement. “But!” you say, pressing a finger to his lips. “You need to do exactly as I say, and if it hurts…we stop. Agreed?” With your finger pressed to his mouth, Loki rolls his eyes, and you smile. “Good.”

A slow, twitching, hope crawls up Loki’s expression as you move your hand and slide down the bedsheets. You lie on your back, lifting your hips and shuffling the shorts down. Loki says nothing, but his erection strains against the covers and his eyes dart from your eyes to your hips as the panties make a slow descent down your thighs. “Gods, I feel like a virgin again,” he murmurs, and his fingernails scrape against the bedsheets. He can’t quite make a fist — not yet — but if he could, he’d be doing that sexy clenching/unclenching thing where the veins in his hand stand out. Arousal slides between your legs and you make a show of drawing a finger through it. It’s a risk, you think as you raise it in front of you and rub the finger against your thumb. But you know every part of Loki, and he needs this. And now, if you’re careful, he can. Your finger, slick with your arousal, hovers close to Loki’s mouth and he opens, letting you dab it on his tongue. A dirty moan rumbles from his chest, and his eyes roll back like he’s tasted heaven. And maybe, for him, he has.

He's begged you over the past few weeks since he woke to let him touch you, to sit on his face; but he's been too delicate for that. Turning him down has been unbearable. He has a tough time controlling himself once the two of you start, and you couldn't live with yourself if you made it worse — but the lightened skin on his side is new. And it's good. “Roll on your side,” you whisper, grazing the finger down his shoulder. You press gently into the meat of his bicep. “See? It’s not bad, right?” His eyes light up. “Shhh,” you soothe, guiding the god to face you. His face contorts, a grunt slipping through his teeth. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls before the words 'maybe we should wait,' can even shape your tongue.

Loki positions himself on his side. His cock is straining against his stomach: flawless and pale against the backdrop of indigo abdominal muscle.

You kiss him a final time before curling against him, facing the wall. His cock slots perfectly between your ass-cheeks. Loki’s breath shakes against your neck: hot, quick. You hope he has his eyes closed; you hope he’s savouring every second of this as much as you are. As much as you relished the swell of his cum inside your gentle mouth over the past week since he’d recovered enough for you to show him how much you love him — this is different.

And fuck, you’ve missed him. You need this, both of you do. “Nothing fancy,” you whisper as you reach between your legs and cup the thick of his girth. Traces of pre-cum web against your fingers.  

“I don’t know what you mean, darling,” Loki croons. But beneath the bravado, his voice wavers.

The tip of his cock slides against your cunt. “We’ll need to be slow. I won’t be used to you after a month.” Loki’s chest shakes against your back with silent laughter. That must hurt, you think, but he presses a kiss into the curve of your neck. “Slow…I can do,” he says, before sucking a tender bite into the skin. Loki edges his hips forward, the crown of his cock nudging at the rim of your slit. You circle your hips, capturing it, pushing back just enough for your body to welcome him with a short pang of delicious pain. There’s an audible slurp as you take him deeper. You’d almost forgotten how good he feels inside you — almost.

“My love,” he croaks into your hair. You slide halfway down his length, and still. Loki pants gently, and you turn your face to his. “I fucking love you, Loki,” you breathe, “more than anything,” and his eyes grow wider. Those peaked brows sharpen as you sink to the base of his cock: ass meeting the flat of his toned stomach. He flinches. “I’m sorry.” You reach back and cup his jaw. Loki nuzzles into the touch. “Don’t be,” he says, tilting his hips back before burying inside you again with a whisper of, "I've missed you." Pleasure spreads beneath your skin like liquid silk. It’s everything: being in his arms; Loki buried in the deepest parts of you as his heart beats between your shoulder-blades. The ridges of his cock tug your neglected walls, an itch only he can scratch, and your fingers tighten against the bedsheets while his pretty gasps of praise caress your ear. The heat of his skin against your spine is electric. Loki’s hand slips over your waist, cupping your breast, brushing your nipple. “Be careful,” you whisper. But Loki’s kisses work down the curve of your shoulder, lingering on the angle of the blade.

His forehead presses against your skin: moist, warm, alive. Tears prick your eyes at the sudden, unwelcome, memory of when you thought you’d lost him forever. “I love you,” you moan again, and again, and again as he sinks in and retracts with each slow chant of the words.   Soon, you cum. And then, he follows. And Loki heals with each breath which makes your chest rise and fall while you slip beneath sleep: safe in his arms.

Tags in comments ❤️

A link to my Masterlist is here

[bibridlizzie]

did lizzie ever kill anyone in legacies (who she didn't know would come back)? i just started thinking about it and it's very possible i'm forgetting something but i don't think she did?

[nathaslosthershit]

Passenger Princess Piastri (OP81)

Summary: Oscar hates driving outside of F1, you are sick of driving him everywhere and have tried everything to curb his obsession with being a passenger princess, but you may have stumbled upon a new method of making him get behind the wheel. (Aka Oscar's wife finds a new upside to her pregnancy)

'Oh having a husband who races cars for a living must be so nice, you have a built in personnel driver!'

Unfortunately, you are dating Oscar Piastri, a man who has trained in the art of guilting you into driving.

It was always something new, 'I don't like driving on the streets in anywhere but Australia', 'i have been driving all weekend, can't you just take the reins this one time', 'I know it is summer break, but you look so hot behind the wheel, I just want to appreciate my pretty wife while I have her with me'.

And you gave in, every time. It got to the point where he didn't even ask, just happily hopped into the passenger seat while you'd sigh and get behind the wheel.

But it had to to end. Oscar's reign as passenger princess had turned into a passenger queen, and you were going to force him to abdicate.

It started with little things; not joining him on errands you didn't need to go on, putting so much stuff in the passenger seat he had to sit in the back, not unlocking the car until he moved.

It worked well, but unfortunately he eventually caught on to all of your ways and found loopholes. He'd beg, and beg, and beg for you to go on errands with him, he knew if he could produce a few tears and a line about how much he loves doing these little domestic tasks with you, you'd give in. He would just move your stuff, all of it, or if he thought ahead, stuff so many things into the back you 'couldn't possible expect him to go back there'. He would just wait, and wait, and wait until you unlocked the car, doesn't matter if you had time sensitive plans, he would happily arrive late in the passenger seat, he'd even blame it on you.

This back and forth lasted years, he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, but neither were you.

When your first thought upon seeing the positive pregnancy test was that you were going to milk this for all its worth and make sure the next 9 months + were passenger seat filled for you, maybe you should have reevaluated the situation, clearly it had gone too far.

You felt better though when you saw the same realization hit Oscar soon after you told him the news.

"Yep! You are not getting a free ride for a very long time, honey." You said, giddy at the look of despair on your husband's face.

"Please, come on, don't you think thats dramatic? You are pregnant, not incapacitated."

"You are so hypocritical to call me dramatic! You drive for a living, Oscar, yet you force your beautiful and amazing wife to drive you around as your personal chauffeur! You did this to me, and now you have got to pay the piper my friend."

"Wouldn't I be the piper in this case?" He was trying to distract you with a dirty joke, and damn it almost worked.

"No, because I am playing you, lovie. Plus, I am holding precious cargo now, don't think I won't call your mom or sisters to yell at you if you try to make me drive."

You felt victorious as you saw all the fight leave his eyes. Maybe it was cruel to use your pregnancy against your husband to force him to do a task he hated doing. Maybe it was evil to feel giddy about how you now had a new method of getting him to drive you places. You weren't saying you'd get pregnant again in the future just to win this ridiculous stand-off you two had, but it was definitely an added bonus.

A/N: I don’t know what this is guys I just sat down and wrote something I had no preconceived plans I just knew my Oscar girlies were hungry and needed to be fed

[bruhstories]

Muse II

p.1 && p.3

summary: a knock on your door, an envelope and a dress pairing: viktor x painter!reader && jayce x mel warnings: swearing, angst, descriptions of anxiety and depression, quite a lot of dialogue, veeeery slow burn, jayce being a good friend, canon divergent w/c: 3.7k

a/n: this part is a little more reader-centric, but i will fix that in the third (and potentially the last) part. liking and reblogging is encouraged and appreciated!

"May I leave now?" The bright lights of the infirmary forced Viktor to squeeze his eyes shut.

The doctor nodded, but the nurse gasped, then shook her head. She seemed to want to see him all the time, always finding a reason to stall, to buy time. Viktor never understood why, but then again, he never understood why you wanted him to be your model. 

"I think it would be prudent to run a few more tests." The nurse suggested.

Her name was Sky, and she had been nothing but kind to him. But weren't all nurses supposed to be humane? To care for the sick? Unfortunately for her, the doctor was adamant on dismissing Viktor.

"I'm afraid not, Sky. Viktor's condition isn't improving, but it isn't advancing either. It's as though his condition simply stopped. You're free to go, but please come back if you notice any changes, positive or otherwise."

"Thank you, doctor." Viktor gripped the handle of his cane and left the infirmary, strolling down the streets of Piltover. 

He had been thinking about you, about how the rune you inscribed in his portrait changed him, but his ego brought out the worst in him, and he refused to search for you, to apologise for misjudging you. Besides, you were probably busy with commissions anyway. You wouldn't make time for him after he stupidly, arrogantly tore down your pride.

You weren't busy. 

It had been days since you left your apartment, weeks since you last touched a paintbrush, months since you saw Viktor. Not having a muse incapacitated you, turned off your creativity, destroyed your imagination. You stared at the blank canvas in front of you — empty, just like your mind and your heart.

Abandoning the attempt to paint, you tried to draw instead. Fiddling with the pencil in your hand, you took a look at your previous sketches, desperate to do something, anything. But nothing came out of you. Not a single line, or dot, or sliver of hope. The sudden knock on your door had you recoil and drop your pencil. Expecting your landlord, you swung open the door. 

Jayce stared at you, at your dishevelled hair and the state of your clothes, before he peeked behind your shoulder to see the mess in your apartment. Papers tossed on the floor, clothes piled up on your bed, spoiled food on your table. He hadn't seen anyone so... pitiful. 

"Can I help you?" Your monotonous voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"I just wanted to check on you. Y/N, what happened?"

"Ask your partner." Venom dripped down your tongue as you closed the door, only for Jayce to stop it with his foot.

"Please, let's just talk."

"Why?" 

"That's what friends do!" His warm smile was supposed to offer you comfort, but it only offered you hate.

"We're not friends, Mr. Talis." You tried to close the door again, catching his fingers in the doorframe. The sudden shriek of pain made you violently open it, eyes wide at Jayce who was on the verge of tears. "I am so sorry, I didn't think you'd put your bloody fingers in the way!"

Ushering him inside your apartment, you kicked away the piles of clothes from the chair and sat him down. He winced, watching his fingers slowly turn purple and swollen.

"It's alright, it's nothing." His voice cracked like some prepubescent teenager, and you ran a handkerchief under cold water then gave it to him.

"I'm really sorry, Jayce."

"Aha! You used my name! Ow, shit."

You tried to stifle the chuckle that erupted from your throat, but to no avail. He managed to make you laugh, but the sweetness turned sour.

"Why are you really here?" You asked, avoiding his gaze.

"I told you, I wanted to check on you. And to ask you something."

There it was, the true reason.

"How did you do it?"

"Dunno what you're talking about." You shrugged. 

"That portrait, it somehow stopped Viktor's affliction from advancing. It's not regressing by any means, but it's keeping him in a stable condition, and I can't explain why. No one can." His forehead creased, unable to find a scientific reason.

"Maybe he got lucky." You simply said.

"Don't be modest, he told me you put some kind of magical rune in it." Jayce scoffed. 

"He spoke about me?" Was all you could think about.

"Yes, but you need to tell me how you did it."

You sighed. His scientific brain could never comprehend the intricacies of magic, the elegant enchantments, or the intuitive spellwork, but you tried your best.

"The Academy of Arts in Ionia trains artists to incorporate spells, runes and sigils into their work. Some can bring their paintings to life, others can use them to deal damage." You looked behind Jayce at the blank canvas. "I can heal. Sort of."

"That's fascinating!" He beamed at you like a child who just got a new toy. "So why didn't you fully heal Viktor?

"Ah, but what would life be if all our problems disappeared? We're all the product of our experiences, aren't we?" You mused. "I can't heal illnesses if people were born with them, I can merely hinder them, stop them from advancing, because even ailments serve a purpose. Would Viktor had become the scientist that he is without his condition?" You quirked a brow, and Jayce frowned, not in anger but in contemplation. 

"So, you could heal my fingers, then, yes?" He nodded, but you sighed again. It was something you found yourself doing quite often.

"I haven't touched a pencil in weeks. I'm useless, as you can probably tell from the state of my apartment."

"Why? Because you don't have a muse?" Jayce asked, and you nodded. "That's bullshit."

"Excuse you?" Your words came out a lot more condescending than you wanted.

"I said it's bullshit. You're a damn artist, you find beauty where others don't. You don't need a muse for that." He scoffed.

"It's not that simple-"

"It is! Science and art are not that different, Y/N! They're both attempts to comprehend the world around us. They require research, analytical processes, resilience. Not a muse." Jayce picked up a sheet of paper and a piece of coal and slammed them on the table. "Draw my hand."

You stared at him, dumbfounded by the sheer willpower that this man had. No wonder he was an innovator. You could've kicked him out of your house, shut the door and never look back, but you didn't. Picking up the coal, you studied his hand first — the length of his fingers, width of his palm, the swirls of his fingerprints. Then, you let the coal glide down the paper, tracing lines, smudging them with your index finger and thumb. Your own fingers were sore from the lack of practice, but you sketched his hand nonetheless, and just as you did with Viktor's portrait, you scribbled a rune in the corner of the paper.

Showing Jayce the sketch, he could feel his numb fingers return to their normal size, the black and blue disappearing by the minute. He knew you could do it, you just needed a little push.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Jayce grinned, but you stared daggers at him. "Oh, before I go, Mel wanted you to have this." He reached into the inner pocket of his cream jacket and handed you an envelope. 

"What's this?"

"An invitation. I hope to see you soon." 

You locked the door after he was gone and studied the wax sigil on the envelope. Red and golden, with the head of a wolf embedded in it. It was too beautiful to tear it open, but curiosity got the better of you, and you used a knife to cut open the envelope, not wanting to ruin the sigil.

Just as Jayce said, it was an invitation to a fundraiser. All of Piltover's finest would be there, and you were asked to attend as a guest of honour, to be appointed the Master of Arts, the head of Piltover's Guild of Artists. Disbelief settled in your mind, despite rereading the same words, over and over again. Every councillor agreed to that, you could tell from their signatures. But you haven't painted in weeks, so how could you represent all the artists in the city? You were a hypocrite at best, a failure at worst. 

And yet, you were chosen for that. Not your colleagues, not someone from the Academy — you. Did you need to prepare a speech? Bloody hell, you did. No one went up that stage without delivering one. But there was time, the fundraiser was only in a few weeks, right? Wrong. Your eyes scanned the words once more — it was three days away. Panic seeped into your veins. You had no dress, no shoes, no speech, no muse.

No, fuck the muse. Fuck Viktor. 

You were still bitter about the last conversation you exchanged with him, but you couldn't throw away such an opportunity, such an honour, for some guy. A very handsome, very clever guy, but still a guy nonetheless. No, Jayce was right — you didn't need a muse. You didn't have one in Ionia, didn't have one when you taught yourself how to draw and paint. You were your own muse. And you needed a damn good dress to impress. 

Forcing yourself to clean the mess in your apartment was easy. But showering and going out wasn't, not when the probability of bumping into Viktor was there. A slim chance, but not impossible, and you couldn’t afford to get distracted. You wrecked your brain trying to remember his schedule, because he never deviated from it. Thursday — he would have a doctor's appointment in the morning, then he would have lunch, and go to the lab. Or was it the other way around?

"Ugh!" You kicked the foot of your bed in anger and disgust. You were disgusted with yourself for even sparing him a single thought — the man who insulted you and your work.

So what if you bumped into him? He wasn't going to talk you, anyway, he made that quite clear when he didn't even say goodbye to you. Ungrateful fucking prick. No more. No more wallowing in self-pity, no more victimisation, no more emotion. How foolish of you to even think he'd see you as more than some dumb painter, that you were his equal in any way, shape or form. It was a facade, a mask, playing the innocent sick man when behind that mask was a god complex.

You found a dress, purple and golden. It reminded you of Viktor, but how else were you supposed to get over him if not by proudly wearing the colours of the enemy? Were you overreacting? Perhaps. Too dramatic? Definitely, but it helped process the pain attached to those stupid colours. Spending time to write a speech also helped take your mind off of him. It gave you a purpose, something you thought was lost.

There was one thing you didn't like about the dress — it was too modest. And while it wasn't a gathering of prudes, you wanted to find the perfect mix of elegance and vulgarity. Studying the dress that was hanging on an iron hook on the back of your bathroom door, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a slit up its side. You wanted to stop at knee's length, but something possessed you to cut higher, stopping well above the knee. Was it too much? Maybe, but you were about to become leader of an entire guild, and you needed to look your best. Besides, the thought of hooking up with someone at the fundraiser didn't sound so bad. You had needs after all, and you were going to satisfy them.

"There she is!" Jayce spotted you through the crowd of people, with Mel's arm looped around his.

You were glad that they were officially together. Too long they played pretend. You greeted them, deciding to be their third wheel since you didn't know that many people there. The life of an artist was quite lonely.

"I'm so glad you accepted my invitation." Councillor Medarda smiled. She seemed happier, and you wondered what it was like to have someone who made you laugh, who supported you and your work.

"It's an honour, Councillor. An unexpected one, I'll be honest." You quickly snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter. "But I've had something on my mind since I received your invitation. What exactly is the fundraiser about? The letter didn't mention anything."

"Ah, I must have forgotten to write that down." She scoffed. "The University of Piltover has decided to create a new department of arts and science combined."

"Oh, that is intriguing." You pondered the innovative idea. "How will that work?"

"Well, Jayce has been inspired by your talent. He believes that there are plenty of future students with the potential of incorporating both arts and science in their work." Mel said. "He'll explain more in the following days, but for now, enjoy the event."

"Thank you, Councillor." You nodded with a smile. "Are you alright, Jayce? You look impatient."

"Yeah, I'm just keeping an eye on the entrance. Viktor should be here soon." He nonchalantly said.

"Sorry? Viktor?" The smile disappeared from your lips as quickly as it appeared. 

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Jayce avoided looking into your eyes, fearing for his life. He could feel you seething at the mere mention of Viktor's name.

"No. No, you didn't fucking tell me." You whispered the obscene word, not wanting to draw any attention. "What else haven't you told me?"

"Well, um-" He fumbled for words, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. 

"Spit it out, Talis."

"You'll be working together."

"What? We'll be what?" You couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. And it didn't help that you heard his familiar voice and thick accent creeping behind your back.

"Good evening, Jayce. Councillor." Viktor greeted them, but you couldn't turn around. You couldn't face him.

So much for being tough. Your heart was beating against your ribcage, desperately trying to crawl out of your chest and run away from him. The pit in your stomach made you sick — you could actually taste bile on your tongue, and the champagne glass slowly slipped from your fingers as your palms became clammy with sweat. Not even the exams in Ionia made you feel as panicked as he did. But you were a grown woman. You couldn't let him put you down like that.

"Viktor." You articulated his name without an ounce of anxiety in your voice, then turned around to look at him.

You were pleased to see he was just as shocked to see you there as you were to see him — even more shocked to see you dressed so differently than how he remembered. Good. The bastard needed a reminder that you weren't a coward, nor a prude. And it made you consider that he also didn't know you two would be working together. How convenient for you.

"Miss Painter." Venom dripped down his tongue. How dare he be affected by your presence? "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He didn't know. You thanked your stars for that. A shit-eating grin crept on your lips, and just as Jayce was about to open his mouth, you said it.

"Oh, you didn't know? We'll be working together. I'm absolutely thrilled!" You lied through your teeth and Jayce slowly turned his head to glare at you. A minute ago, you looked like you were about to have a heart attack, now you were thrilled to work with him?

"How utterly... terrific." Viktor forced a smile. "No, I didn't know. Jayce, a word?"

"No need, I'll leave you to it. Gentlemen, Councillor." You nodded and stepped away, blending with the crowd, eyes set on some poor man who was about to be your distraction for the night.

His name was Alfred, or Arthur. Something with an A. It didn't matter. He was good looking, with broad shoulders and much taller than you. But he talked. A lot. You politely nodded at everything he said, trying to keep up with the conversation, but anything he said fell on deaf ears. You weren't interested in him, not after seeing Viktor, who looked much better than last time, healthier. He went so far as to adjust his cane to look similar to the one in your portrait — the fucking hypocrite. And even the suit he was wearing was purple. You matched, and your stomach churned at that epiphany. What if people thought you were together?

You rolled your eyes when Arthur, or Alfred, spoke about how ridiculous the idea of combining science and arts was. The desire to pour your champagne in his lap was great, but your self-restraint was greater. Somehow. Paying him no mind, you dissociated, daydreaming of being in your atelier and working on a new painting, of buying new materials, new canvases. Yes, that was much better than listening to Alfred, or Arthur, yap about something his small brain couldn't comprehend. 

Even amongst hundreds of people, Viktor only saw you, and the thousand-yard stare on your face. You were quite obviously bored, and there was an impulse, an instinct to go and save you from the dull conversation that you weren't even a part of. But he couldn't. Deep down, Viktor knew he might have overreacted when he last saw you, but you made it quite clear that you wanted nothing to do with him, and he respected that. It pained him, because he grew used to your presence in the lab, but what could he do? 

He found it comforting that you wore the colours of his suit — of his portrait. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a minuscule possibility that you weren't upset with him anymore. But Viktor wasn't an idiot. He knew all too well that the wrath of a woman scorned wasn't something that passed so easily. And he felt the spite in your voice when you blatantly lied about being thrilled to work with him. Oh, right, he forgot about that when he got lost in your eyes, even from across the ballroom. 

How were you going to work together when neither of you wanted that? Surely you could set aside any grudges, he thought. But could he? While the portrait did hinder his illness, Viktor still assumed that you weren't serious about him being your model. Your muse, even. How could someone like him be the object of your artistic desire? No, that was improbable. Impossible. 

"And that's when I said what do you call a woman who has lost 95% of her intelligence? Divorced!" Arthur, or Alfred, slapped his knee, laughing at his own sexist joke, and that was enough for you to regret your decision of approaching him.

"Excuse me, I'm going for some fresh air." You walked away from him as fast as you could.

Stepping out on the balcony, you shivered when the cool air kissed your skin. A coat would've been smarter than a slit in your dress, but freezing to death was better than hearing one more fucking joke about women. You just hoped Alfred, or Arthur, or whatever the fuck his name was, wasn't going to come looking for you. Leaning on the handrail, you sighed. What were you going to do? How were you going to work with Viktor for an indefinite amount of time? There was so much uncertainty about the future, and it scared you. The responsibilities of leading a guild scared you. The changes in your routine scared you. The idea of working with someone who hated you scared you.

The speech! You forgot about the blasted speech, and you ran back inside at the right time. Councillor Shoola invited you on the stage just as you entered the ballroom, and with a fake smile and complaisant nods, you walked up the few steps, blinded by the lights directed on you. Shoola shook your hand, and awarded you with a silver pin — a symbol of your new status as Guild Leader. The amount of people staring at you was overwhelming, but you took a deep breath in and adjusted microphone on the stand. When you looked down at your hands, you were surprised to find them empty. Where were the cards you had prepared? Where was your speech?

Then you remembered the balcony. You had forgotten the cards outside. Shit. Fuck. No matter, you could improvise. Even if your throat was dry, and your legs were numb, you could improvise. You did that before, plenty of times. But the hundreds of eyes that stared into your soul made it impossible to think, to breathe, to exist.

Um, good evening, everyone." You started, eyes narrowed down on Mel, who nodded in encouragement. Licking your chapped lips, you continued. "It brings me great honour to stand here in front of you..." Cringing at the crack in your voice, you found Jayce, who beamed at you, like he always did. That gave you a bit more hope. "...as the new Master of Arts."

You couldn't do this. 

They weren't looking at you, they were looking inside of you. They could see every fibre of your body, every imperfection, every weakness. You tried closing your eyes and pretending they weren't there, but when you opened them, it was worse. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop yourself from hyperventilating. 

A pair of soft amber eyes found yours, and you couldn’t believe how calming they were. Even after the fiasco that was your meeting with Viktor, you still found inspiration in him, and that offended you. 

"We are here to celebrate a marriage." You spoke with newfound confidence stemming from sheer anger. "A marriage between science and art. A sacred union that some find ridiculous, others impossible. I find it a splendid symbiosis of reason and emotion. Too long art and science have mutually excluded each other, and while they both individually progressed immeasurably, their union has the potential to break boundaries, to make new discoveries, to bring people together. I will proudly represent the Guild of Artists in this new and fascinating adventure. Thank you, Councillors, for the distinction bestowed upon me. Thank you to Professor Heimerdinger for allowing this journey to happen. And thank you to everyone who believes in this pursuit of knowledge."

[rotzaprachim]

I tried to run from it, i tried to fight it, and now there’s nothing left to do but let it sit with me. There’s nothing for grief but grief. Nothing for grief but time. But there is no time. Only more grief

this grief is so heavy.

[ineffectualdemon]

Okay I was thinking more about bingliushen taking my kids idea that there is a fourth secondary gender called Gamma which protects their partners while they are in heat and rut and provides comfort. They are aided in protecting their partners as during their partners heats/ruts they produce a toxin in their fangs that incapacitates people. I like to imagine it knocks them unconscious for several hours

The teenagers idea is that they tend to be asexual but not exclusively so

And I was working originally with Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu's Gamma but what if it's the other way around?

So Liu Qingge gets hit with aphrodisiac at the succubus den and goes into heat while the succubus' flee. Shen Qingqiu is u affected by the pollen but not the heat and goes into protection mood

He scents Liu Qingge to calm him down during his heat away from his nest and bites a few people who try to get to the omega

Afterwards they do have a bond as a Gamma and Omega which means regular scenting, cuddling in a shared nest, and even when Shen Qingqiu is wandering he is always home when Liu Qingge is in preheat and through his heat protecting his space and taking care of him

Am omega without an alpha but with gamma mostly sleeps through their heat in my mind but it's like they have a high fever for it

It's similar for an alpha who has a gamma but not an omega

Also I'm going to say their bond bites go on the wrists

So when Binghe shows up Shen Qingqiu smells like Liu Qingge which just makes things worse

While Shen Qingqiu is dead Liu Qingge shows up to fight at the beginning of his preheat once and the fight gets...charged. they never speak of it again and fights don't happen when they are in rut or heat. Which works out because their cycles sync for some reason

They don't think about why

Post canon Shen Qingqiu goes back to Cang Qiong to be with Liu Qingge during his heat if he'll still have him. Liu Qingge of course does want him there.

Which is fine except it's not because Luo Binghe is also in pre rut while Liu Qingge is in pre heat.

Binghe reluctantly offers to delay his rut using his heavenly demon blood but that doesn't work because being near Liu Qingge is overwriting his attempts to delay it

Mu Qingfang is like "usually if a Gamma has and Alpha and Omega they bond with but they aren't bonded with each other the Alpha and Omega usually end up bonded. But what do I know? Anyway figure it out"

So they go home and spend a week getting ready for ruts and heats in separate rooms with Shen Qingqiu attending them both

Only Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge keeping being drawn together and find to their disgust they don't hate each other and Shen Qingqiu is grooming and scenting them both and filling the house with happy pheromones whenever they are getting close which even drives them closer together

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Second ask of the day I am so sorry if I am overwhelming you :(

But I was scrolling through your blog and someone requested Blade with a reader who was like terrified of him that they would not sleep or eat unless forced to.

Could you write the same for Dottore? I just feel like this would fit him well :D

~🍂 Anon (once again I am apologising for requesting a second time today. Feel free to ignore me)

omg no don't feel bad for multiple requests, i adore every request i get, even if there's multiple in a day :D <3

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against ones will, mentions of drugging, mentions of restraints, mentions of permanently paralyzing someone, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Honestly, it doesn’t bother Dottore nearly as much as it should, but when has he ever been bothered by something this minuscule? Dottore isn’t an overly affectionate person, but he can’t deny the appeal of having someone waiting for him in his bed, it’s a nice change from the usual night spent in his lab, forcing himself awake for another hour. It’s a good change of pace for him as well, even if he has to use force to keep you compliant.

He’ll allow you free roam of the room during the day, certain you couldn’t get past the bars on the windows or the guards outside the door. When night rolls around though, it’s kicked off by a few of his segments coming to get you ‘ready’ for bed. They’ve been instructed to use any force necessary, which often means restraints or merely drugging you. This is so that when Dottore does eventually come around to go to bed an hour or so later, you’ve already had your time to cry and fight, tiring yourself out and making you perfect to snuggle up to.

Of course, he has considered permanently paralyzing you before, but a small, sick part of him likes it when you fight. Dottore enjoys the challenge you put up, so he may on occasion threaten it, among other things, he isn’t likely to actually do it.

There was an extra pep in his step as Dottore left the lab, choosing to let his experiments wait till morning in favor of going to rest with you. Normally he’d be there till sunrise the following morning, but as of late, he’s come to find that he much prefers your company at these hours. You had been extra difficult with his segments tonight, at least that was what they had told him, so they went ahead and administered some ‘medication’ to help you relax. It was a special formula Dottore had made for you and you alone, it was strong enough to keep you incapacitated till morning while also not making you weak enough that you needed assistance in breathing.  Kicking open the door to your bedroom, he was pleased to see you laying there, staring at him with tear-riddled eyes, small wet streaks running down your cheeks from the crying onslaught you had subjected yourself to. Oh dear, if only you knew how much this sight made his heart flutter.

If you never grow accustomed to Dottore’s presence, it’s not a worry, he honestly thinks it’s cute that you hate him so much. His heart is set aflutter when he sees how terrified you are of him, he thinks it’s just so adorable. I mean, everyone already hates him, thousands have nightmares of the things he’s done, but you, there’s something about you specifically that has him hooked. He can’t ever let you go.

[multifariousqueer]

hi love. could u write where felix takes care of fem!reader on her period? currently abt to get mine and i need some comfort lol, mine r hell. if u don’t want to that’s okay<3

Sure!

The morning sunshine blared through the window as your stomach started to sting a familiar sting. You had hoped that it would wait another week but it came in hot and dull as you awoke to the feeling of being wet. Your arm instinctively reached for your alarm clock only to find that you had class in a few minutes and had slept in. A groan escaped your lips as a text from Felix crept its way onto your device:

“Good morning, darling 😀”- Felix( don’t kill me, it was the early 2000’s)

“Where are you?”- Felix

You scrambled to get dressed and put on a pad before leaving your dorm.

The autumnal air brushed your skin as you felt more emotional and stressed. Felix and you had a project worth 3% of your semester grade due today and you stayed up until 12 last night messing around so you forgot to finish it. Tears stung at your eyes as you admonished yourself for not doing a basic task but you didn’t have time to go into a full fit because you were late.

When you reached class, the entire class looked at you as the door creaked open and Felix’s eyed you up and down before realizing that you weren’t okay. You sat down next to him and searched your bag for your supplies before realizing that you left your period bag at home. A period bag consists of : pads, tampons, lotion, perfume, and an emergency pair of panties. Upon the heartbreaking realization, you groaned and put your hands over your eyes and Felix immediately took notice:

“Y’alright love?” Felix said, rubbing your back.

This caused you to break into full blown tears as you got up and left class to run some water over your face.

Felix got up and followed a few minutes later to make sure you were okay:

“What happened?” He asked with genuine concern on his face

“I’m just on my period, that’s all”- you sobbed back

“Do you need anything to get through class?” He asked while rubbing your back

“I just want to cuddle with you and shower and go back to bed” you sniffled

“After class, I promise I will do that for you” Felix spoke

Felix hated seeing you in pain and he hated seeing you cry more. A piece of his soul broke Everytime you cried and he wanted to whatever it took to make you happy again.

Felix walked you back into class with a hand on the small of your back and he sat you down. He went up to the professor and spoke a few words that were unintelligible from where you were sitting and the professor called you over to his desk:

“Ms. L/n, it seems that you are incapacitated and scattered right now so I am willing to give you an extension on the project. Of course, I will have to knock off a few points but it is still possible to pass” the professor said sternly.

“Thank you so much!” You smiled

“Please sit down and try not to disrupt the class any longer” the professor spoke before going back to grading.

“Yes sir” you said.

Felix observed the interaction with a straight face before breaking out into a grin and escorting you back to your seat.

“How about we go back to my dorm after class and finish our project later” he said softly

“Please.” You said, while practically giving him a begging stare

Felix pulled you into a hug before planting a kiss on your forehead and returning his attention back to the lecture. He still kept his hand on your thigh and he snuck glances your way every now and again to make sure you weren’t in pain.

Eventually, you went back to Felix’s dorm and he went to a drawer and pulled out a box of pads. Felix kept his stash stocked ever since he started dating you because he always wanted you to be comfortable.

“Wait here, I’ll go run you a bath” he said, ushering you to sit on his bed

You nodded in response and pulled out your textbook to finish the project once Felix left. You made a decent amount of headway before Felix came back and shut the textbook while staring at you:

“I told you we’d do this later, y/n” he smirked

“I know but…” you started before Felix interrupted you

“Even in pain, you’re still scholarly?” Felix asked quizzically while smirking at you

“I’m on my period, Felix. I’m not dying” you remarked

“So you don’t want to be cuddled?” He asked

“No no I do!!” You said with puppy eyes

Felix chuckled and took you into the bathroom. He undressed you and did away with your pad before delicately placing you into the tub. He was careful not to scrub you too hard but he wanted to get you as clean as possible. You sank into the warm, eucalyptus scented water and mewled as the warmth enveloped your body. Felix ran water over your body and made sweet comments about how strong you were for enduring your period:

“Look at my princess, so beautiful” he smiled

“Mmmm I love you” you sighed

“I adore you too, darling” he said, kissing your eyebrow before leaving to go to his bedroom.

You jolted a bit as Felix’s absence set in. You opened your eyes and looked around before you heard movement in his room.

Felix was prepping a pair of underwear for you and laying out an outfit for you. It was his old rugby shirt and some old boxers of his that you used as shorts. Felix learned how to prep underwear one day when you showed in “in case of emergencies” and he always prepped yours if you couldn’t. Felix also laid out some chocolate for you and put a stuffed animal on the bed. He went to get you from the bath:

“Where did you go?” You asked sadly

“I went to go clean up a bit and get you ready for bed” he replied

He pulled you from the tub and helped you get dressed. Felix laid you on the bed and cuddled with you. You took in the scent of his cologne and aftershave while making soft noises of comfort against his chest. He grabbed you and held you close and sooner or later you fell asleep in his embrace.

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[nisbanisba]

Happy Sunday! Have some more concussed cat dad fic!

Ramon has gotten over being slighted earlier and has made himself comfortable on Carlos’s pillow, rubbing his face against Carlos’s. “Gentle. Please. I love you, you’re a good baby,” Carlos tells Ramon as the cat purrs and drools and generally tries to make out with Carlos’s ear. “Maybe chill out a little, though?”

“Sorry, am I interrupting? Do you two need privacy?” asks TK, strolling into the bedroom.

“Just as funny as the last fifty times you made that joke, babe,” Carlos grunts.

“I was hoping it would be like a brand-new joke since your brains are all scrambled now.”

“What would be a brand new joke?”

“Uh, babe..” TK begins uncertainly.

“Kidding,” says Carlos, pleased with himself. He may be concussed and beat to hell, but at least he’s still hilarious.

TK rolls his eyes. “I hate you.” He reaches out to pet Ramon, evidently too quickly, because Ramon leaps off the bed and charges out of the room again.

“Bye, buddy,” says Carlos, and turns his attention to his husband. TK is wearing the jeans that drive Carlos crazy. It really isn’t fair that he would do this when Carlos is incapacitated and their child is somewhere in the house. Carlos casually reaches out to cup his husband’s ass. It’s comforting.

Thanks for the tags @emsprovisions @heartstringsduet

Open tag +

@rmd-writes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @bonheur-cafe @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes

@everlastingday

@reyesstrand @theghostofashton @ironheartwriter

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom

@ladytessa74 @three-drink-amy @butchreyes @decafdino o @never-blooms

@sugdenlovesdingle @freneticfloetry @eclectic-sassycoweyes @herefortarlos

@alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye @chicgeekgirl89 @lightningboltreader @captain-gillian

@paperstorm

@nancys-braids @pimento-playing-hopscotch @goodways @literateowl @carlos-tk tk @welcometololaland @henrygrass @rangersoup @annoyingcloudearthquake

[nethnad]

wake up in my shitty dorm room of rassilon of the prydonian academy at 6 microminispans past the eighth hour. the suns are blinding my eyes and it is clear that the temporal powers that be statistically likely hate me specifically for making me wake up this early. roll out of bed to head to temporal engineering with my least favorite classmates beta shrimpma and costco touchdown. however they seem to be having a lovers quarrel (might be related to the diaappearance of our other classmate,,, think his name was buic or something) and as i walk in costco shoves all his textbooks off the table and yells “RASSILONS FUCKING WHACKSACK”, telepathically crippling everyone in the room. i am rendered incapacitated from the migraine for the rest of the day and now have 6000 missing assigmence

[seiya-starsniper]

Ahhhhh it's so difficult to decide which WIP. I'm going with horse girl au shenanigans 🐴💕

@embroiderling

Yammy thank goodness for your because I wrote some new words in this doc 😄😄😄

“No,” Dream says. “I can wash myself.”

Hob frowns, a deep furrow forming in his brow. He gazee drops to Dream’s flank, at Dream’s injury, and Dream already feels himself burning with indignation when the human opens his mouth to speak. “Dream,” Hob says, gently, too gently. Dream hates being coddled, hates even more than he is being coddled by a mere mortal, of all things. “You really shouldn’t—” “I am injured, not incapacitated,” Dream interrupts with a huff, before stomping his feet. He realizes immediately it is a mistake when pain shoots up his side and he winces. “I know you aren’t,” Hob replies, thankfully choosing to ignore Dream’s unintended display of weakness. “But I don’t want you to end up more injured, when I could have helped,” he adds, then bites his lip. “I need to bathe myself anyways, so we might as well not waste the hot water.” It is the flimsiest of allowances, but Dream cannot deny they are both sorely in need of a wash. They haven’t bathed since arriving at Unity’s farm, and Dream understands that humans need to bathe much more frequently than centaurs.

✨WIP File Tag Game✨