#I wish to inject these words into my bloodstream

[cheez-cuits]

SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCREAMS SCRE

Season 4 spoilers!!! But to keep it vague (and a snippet and more spoiler-y summary under the cut), basically a 3.6k oneshot exploring what MK could’ve been thinking while fighting! Takes place during s4e7 Pitiful Creatures.

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[freedomfireflies]

Bite Me*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun

The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire.

And you wish you could feel what he felt.

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Easy…easy, sweet dove. Need to relax for me. Can smell how nervous you are. Take a deep breath, hm?”

Shaky fingers gather in front of your stomach as you nod nervously. Staring up at your boyfriend with anticipation and remorse. “Sorry, I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, reaching up to brush some hair behind your ear. “There is nothing wrong with you, darling. It’s chemical. You’re meant to feel nervous around me. It’s nature’s design. To keep you safe.”

You nod again, catching a glimmer of light from the sharp tooth peeking out from behind his lip. “I know, I just…I wish it would stop. I wish we could just be, you know? Without me being so…”

He studies you for a moment, a look of adoration on his face as he hums again and cups your cheek. “I know.”

You nestle into his touch rather contently before he begins to smile, now dipping down to nudge his nose with yours. 

“If you want…I can make the bad feeling go away,” he whispers with a slight purr. “Can make it all better again.”

Hopeful, your lashes flutter. “Really?”

He nods once. “Mhm. Just wanna help you, dove. Want you to feel good.”

And now you understand what he means, the thought sending a spark down to your toes. It’s rare he feeds from you. After all, he considers the act to be degrading and disrespectful. He only ever feeds from animals or blood bags unless you’ve specifically asked.

But the truth is, you love when he feeds from you. For a plethora of reasons, one of which being the overwhelming sense of need and dependance on him that follows. Or the way his eyes grow darker and his entire demeanor changes. How much stronger he becomes feeding on human blood, specifically the blood of someone he loves.

But another reason lies with his fangs. The venom that becomes injected into your bloodstream, forcing you to feel whatever emotion or desire he feels. 

It’s a trick used to lure and calm his prey into submission while he feeds, but you find another use for it. Because if he’s filled with serenity or anger or lust…you feel it, too. You feel him. Only him.

And it’s your absolute favorite feeling in the world.

His other hand now reaches for your neck, fingers gently tapping the sides of your throat. “Just say the word, darling. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You feel your chest deflate, all the air evaporating from your lungs as he slowly urges you back against the wall. Bracing you there as he awaits your decision.

He knows what you want. And he knows that you’d tell him otherwise. 

Your fingers tangle in the dark shirt on his chest, desperate to keep him near you. “Do it. Please.”

He tilts your head back, letting his lip curl up until his fang is revealed. “Are you sure, my dove?”

Another fervent nod. “Yes. Please, Har…please, need to feel it. Need to feel you.”

He leans closer, letting the tips of his sharp teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your throat. Right above your pulse point. “Gotta be really sure, darling. Don’t want to hurt you. Or lose control.”

“You won’t,” you exhale, feeling more confident than you sound. “Know you won’t.”

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind if he did. Even in his darkest moments, he remains your fiercest protector. Never allowing anyone to hurt you.

Not even himself.

You feel him breathe against your neck, perhaps preparing himself for what he’s about to do. Or maybe he’s indulging in your smell. Reveling in the realization of what he’s about to do. What he’s about to taste.

Then, almost as if overcome with a surge of confidence, he bites down – hard. Enough to break the skin and allow his venom to travel into your system.

It’s instantaneous, the feeling. The way your muscles dissolve into jelly, the way your mind fills with a certain haze, and the way your stomach begins to coil.

It’s overwhelming, but it’s him. And you whimper as his other hand falls to your hip to keep you steady, making sure you remain upright and in his arms.

He waits a moment or two to make sure the venom has taken effect before he slowly retracts his fangs and pulls away. You know if he’d punctured you any deeper or kept the sharp teeth inside of you any longer, the taste of your blood would have driven him mad. Tempting him beyond reason until he began to lose control.

But he knows his limits by now. Knows exactly how far he can push himself around you, and you admire him for it.

Your legs shake as you slump against the wall, held up by his grip as he studies you carefully. Looking for signs of remorse or panic.

He’s learned a trick for sucking a majority of the poison out of your system – if it were to come to that. And while it’s tricky and tedious, you know he’d do it in a heartbeat if he felt you were in danger or if you regretted your choice.

Instead, you simply smile at him, and nod languidly. “M’good, Har,” you assure him. “M’so good.”

He seems to exhale a grateful breath, thumb stroking your cheek gently as he now glances over your wound. “I need to clean it—"

“No,” you whimper, keeping him close. “Not yet. Don’t go yet.”

He chuckles, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “All right, dove. I’m here. How do you feel, hm? You feel calm yet?”

You nod again before your lashes flutter. “Yeah. Calm, and…and happy, I think?”

He hums. “I imagine. You do make me happy.”

“It’s strange, though,” you admit, brows furrowing in thought. “Feels…heightened. Or more potent. There’s this…this yearning. This need for something.”

He regards you for a moment more. Curious and seemingly amused by your confusion before suddenly, your eyes snap to his.

You suck in a sharp inhale – something akin to a gasp. “Are you…are you horny?”

You expect his surprise, but all you find is smug fascination. “Well,” he begins slowly, letting his knuckles graze delicately beneath your jaw, “the term horny is a little juvenile. And it could never even begin to describe what I feel for you.”

He steps closer, lips ghosting just above yours while you feel your breath hitch.

“But…yes,” he whispers, glancing down at your mouth with a smile. “I suppose I am. Can’t exactly help it, darling, can I? When you look…and taste…and smell so goddamn divine.”

Another whimper bleeds from your throat as he begins to guide you away from the wall and toward the bed just to the left of you.

“Tell me…how does it feel, dove, hm?” he murmurs, touch strong yet determined. “Do you feel me? Feel how much I need you?”

This nod is quick and zealous. Because you do. It’s all you feel. This desire to have – to take and ruin. In the best possible way. It’s a similar sensation to the lust you already feel for him. Your hunger to explore the dangerous but loving man you call your own.

“Yeah?” He’s grinning like a mad man at the way you so quickly fall apart. “Can I tell you a secret, darling?” 

You whimper pitfully as you gaze up at him.

Lowering his voice, he tightens his grip. “When I’m with you…I always feel like this.”

With that, he nudges you down to sit on the mattress before surging forward to press his lips to yours. Kissing you so hard, you feel dizzy. It’s perfection. Like quenching a burning flame. Like taking that first drink of water on a hot day. Fixing a desperate need – succumbing to a craving. 

And it feels as though this kiss fixes every one of your problems. Because it does – he does. Breaks you and puts you back together again all in the same moment. It’s almost addicting. You feel insatiable, hands disappearing into his curls as you yank him down until his chest is flush with yours.

The two of you roll and writhe around on the bed for a minute or two before he leans back to offer you air. He knows you won’t take a moment to breathe otherwise, and his smug smirk merely worsens the ache between your thighs.

“Not so nervous now, hm?” he muses.

You hook your leg around his hip and attempt to grind yourself against his thigh. “Please…”

“Please what, dove?” He presses his lips to the base of your throat, trailing them down your sternum and toward your chest. “What’s it feel like, what do you need?”

But you don’t have any answer for him. Instead, all you can do is stare at the stunningly generous man as he works his way down your body. As he unbuttons your shirt and kisses over the swell of your breast. 

The stain of your blood from his lips smears across your nipple before he takes it into his mouth. Sucking and licking at the tender skin while he kneads the other one in his palm.

You arch from the mattress, desperate to disappear into his strong frame while he chuckles darkly and allows his fangs to reemerge. 

He uses them sparingly – not as a weapon but as a toy. A tool in the game of your lust.

The sharp edge pricks your skin, enough to make you gasp his name and tug on him harder. He smiles a bit bigger and carries on with his quest. Moving down your stomach and toward the waistband of your pants.

Cold, nimble fingers pop the buttons free and tug the fabric down your legs. Revealing your trembling thighs to his hungry gaze. He looks at you like you’ve been served to him on a platter. But not in the way another vampire might.

No, Harry’s look of mesmeric adoration lies in the idea of your body. In the warmth of your cunt and the soft skin of your legs. In the way you draw him in, the way you hold him, clench around him.

It’s hard for him to feel most things these days. 

But he always feels you.

He settles his body near your ankles, providing him the right angle and amount of space to spread you open and study you.

His thumb reaches for you. Pushes into your clit before dragging down between your folds as you gasp.

His expression reveals nothing. No inkling as to what he’s thinking but you know his mind is running wild with ideas.

He finds your soaked little hole, circling it once before dragging the wet substance back up and through. 

“Shh,” he coos, taming your desolate cries. “It’s okay, dove. I’ve got you.”

“Har,” you whimper, fingers itching to reach for him as he settles onto his stomach. “Please…”

You can see the reflection of light on his fangs. The way they extend past his red, swollen lips and ghost above your skin.

He nips at your hip a time or two – a slight sting that dissolves into something excruciatingly pleasurable – before he dances his mouth down. Torturing you with what’s to come instead of simply giving it to you.

“You smell divine, darling,” he purrs, groaning deep within the back of his throat. “Just might kill me again.”

You’d laugh if you had the strength, instead peering down your body at him with a desperate need. “H, I need��need—”

“Need me, hm?” He exhales a gentle breath across your clit and it’s so very cold. But it makes you jump, a new wave of arousal seeming to soak the sheets beneath. “Need me to make it better, yeah?”

You nod swiftly. “Yes…yeah. Hurts, Har.”

“Hurts?” he repeats with faux sympathy. “Oh, dove. Bet it does. Bet it’s all achy.”

Your head moves on its own accord, and you feel your stomach quiver when his cool hands curl around your thighs, keeping them spread.

“I imagine,” he whispers, returning his eyes to your pussy. “Cause I know how much it aches for me.”

He dives in, tongue lapping at your warmth and wetness without mercy as you cling to the sheets and arch from the bed.

His arms fold over your hips, keeping you pressed down and pliable to his intentions as he begins. Licking, sucking, and nibbling at certain spots – but never the spot you need him most.

The tantalizing edge of his fang grazes your soft, sensitive cunt. Sometimes harder, sometimes softer. But always impatient, desperate to feel you anyway he can.

Truth be told, you suppose he enjoys feeding on you this way just as much. In fact, this is what he claims is his nourishment whenever he’s feeling weak and unwell. One taste of your pussy and he’s a changed man.

He has you every day. Makes sure you’re at his beck and call – which you already are, anyway. 

If he’s working, if he’s cooking, if he’s reading. He merely gives you a look and calls you by that familiarly loving nickname, and next thing you know, you’re sitting on his face.

The stretch of your muscles is almost distracting, but not nearly as distracting as his groans of pleasure. The way he curses to himself as he swallows you down. Nudging at your cunt with his mouth like you’re the best meal he’s ever had.

And then…those perfect lips find your clit. He sucks, and moans, and you cry out his name. Grasping onto his hair in a futile attempt at stability and more.

He lets you tug him closer. You imagine – if he were still alive – he’d be suffocated by your pussy. Which…he’d probably enjoy.

As it is, he continues his ministrations almost mercilessly while you squirm beneath him and attempt to buck up against his tongue.

“I know,” he whispers, almost soothingly, and it feels like a vast contrast to the way he forces you into so much pleasure. “Know, darling. Can hear your pretty, little heart racing. Try to breathe, yeah? While you still can.”

You suck in a greedy gasp, eager to obey, as you focus on the sounds coming from between your thighs. It’s sinful and sensual and it echoes around the room until it’s all you hear.

“Doing so good, babydove,” he murmurs, glancing up just long enough to see the first tear slip from your eye. “It’s a lot right now, I know. I know, but you can take it. Always do so good for me. Let me see you cum, yeah? Let me see this pretty pussy cum for me.”

And you want to more than anything. Chasing the need in your own belly along with the need from his venom. The combined rush of ecstasy that makes stars explode across your eyelids as more destitute sounds fall from your tongue. 

His hands suddenly slip beneath your back, forcing you from the bed as he repositions you and nearly pulls you right through him. 

Large fingers grope the tender flesh of your ass as he holds you against his mouth and sucks the sensitive nerves between puckered lips. 

“Tell me,” he ushers softly, a golden hue to those vivid eyes watching you closely. “Tell me how bad I need you. Tell me how much I love you—”

“Har,” you gasp, trembling in his touch. “Can’t…can’t…m’gonna cum, I…please—”

“Try. Tell me. Tell me that you feel me—”

“I do,” you whine. “I do, I feel you. Feel you, Har. So good. It’s so good, please—”

“All right, darling. You gonna let me taste you? Need to taste you, darling. Can’t live without it—”

“Harry—”

He pulls away just enough to raise his hand and smack it down your cunt. The cold metal of his ring catching your clit before two more spanks are laid in succession.

You moan loudly – almost undone by the eroticism itself – before he dips back down, and grazes the delicate bud with the edge of his fang.

You feel him slip a finger inside. Pumping you once – twice – before he adds a second. Wanting to fill you and finger-fuck you to the edge as quickly as possible.

It hits you then. Overpowers you and knocks the wind from your lungs. 

You fall apart in his hands, against his tongue. Moaning and whimpering as your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head. It feels as though you cum twice as hard – perhaps a result of the venom or the symbolism of his need for you. The way your taste has satisfied his thirst.

“Yes, yes…there you go, that’s my fucking girl.” His tone is rough but riddled with lust. He groans like he’s never been filled with so much devotion. An anxious almost obsessed sound that drags your orgasm on at least a few seconds longer. “Give it to me, dove…fucking give it to me—”

“Harry—” You gasp his name like it’s the last sound you’ll ever make. Tears building in your eyes before they cascade down your warm cheeks. 

Ever the sadist, Harry works you through until your cunt is throbbing and far too sensitive to the touch. Despite your cries and whimpers for mercy, he carries on. Thrusting, licking, and sucking until you can hardly breathe.

Eventually he releases you and leans back. Perhaps able to hear the erratic racing of your pulse beneath your chest as he now works to hush your anxious mewling.

Crawling up your body with care, his fangs retract, and he buries his face in your neck to keep you still. Pressing his chest to yours in an effort to help calm you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “It’s okay, dove. You’re okay. God, did so fucking good for me, darling. Always taste so good, make me so happy.”

You tiredly grasp onto his arms, needing to hold onto him just as tightly as he’s holding onto you. Wanting to share in this moment as he smirks against your throat. 

“You okay?” he asks you now. “You’re nervous again.”

“No, I’m…I’m okay,” you assure him through a pant. “I just…it feels so good. So…heavy, you know? Overwhelming.”

He chuckles softly and pushes up onto his elbows to get a good look at you. Thumb finding your cheekbone as he traces the delicate curve of your face with great adoration. “Are you saying I overwhelm you?”

You nod, smiling giddily as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. “In the best possible way.”

Grinning himself, he leans down to capture your lips with his. And it’s soft and slow and an oddly angelic end to such a devilish evening.

“Har?” you whisper, lashes fluttering shut as you nose your way under his jaw.

“Yes, dove?”

Your kisses trail below his ear, making his fingers flex. “You know what I think?”

“What's that, darling?”

You begin to smirk wickedly as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and tug him closer. Allowing the edge of your teeth to finally make contact with his skin.

He stills.

“I think it’s my turn now.”

Just wanna put in a quick note and clarify that even though she was feeling a bit of his horniness and desire, she was still very much horny all on her own HAHAHA this was 1000000% consented to from beginning to end from both parties!

Also vampire!harry is so fun?? And I loved this?? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

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Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[danosrosegarden]

HIIII ELIII !!! firstly THANK YOU for all the work you do for danonation… you are our strongest soldier !!! 🙏🙏💕💕💕 secondly, i’d like to put in a request for the anniversary celebration !!! <3 if i could may i get glitz + edward nashton? i love that lil freak … maybe something with creepy mutual obsession? i need him to know i’m just as obsessed with him as he would be with me …. THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAH !!! ^_^

it's hot and we rot - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW)

elijah's anniversary celebration: post three!

✨ glitz prompt: give me a character, and i will write a nsfw piece for them. ✨

{contains: male masturbation, public masturbation, underwear thievery, sub edward, and general mutual creepiness and obsession.}

♡ Sharp, grimy talons of guilt pierce through his heart and spill the thick, gushing blood all over each time he finds himself back in the bathroom next to his cubicle. Edward Nashton knows that there's nothing good in what he's doing. There never is.

♡ But God, does it feel right. Sorry. He really shouldn't tell you that, it might make you uncomfortable, he knows. But he thinks it's something you should know. An inky black secret too revolting and shameful to keep to himself. A slowly swirling python of perverse glee wraps itself around Edward's sweat-slicked body as he pulls your underwear out of his pocket: the carnival prize he'd won for himself last time he was over at your apartment.

♡ He hears your voice swimming around in his head as he wraps it around his cock, already slick with precum and throbbing a harsh, blushing pink. That's disgusting, Edward! I trusted you, I let you into my home, and that's what you do when I'm not looking? You're a fucking freak, you know that?

♡ Jesus. He's already biting down hard on his cracked lips so as to not alert his coworkers. It's all a rolling ball of sharpened knives, a blazing firecracker of intensity...the thought of your horrified look and cruel, venom-laced words spat into his face. The idea that somebody in the office could walk in at any moment and accidentally catch sight of him through the spaces in the stall doors, crimson-cheeked and leaking all over his tightly-gripped hand.

♡ His mind runs chaotically wild as he pumps himself, the fluorescent light above his head humming a low, growling buzz. You. He wants you. He doesn't give a fuck what he has to do. He'll beg for scraps. He'll whine and plead. He'll get on his knees and pray. God, he just wants you.

♡ Heat. It rushes through his body, injects itself straight into his bloodstream. He feels the white-hot warmth tingling deep in his gut as a high whine slips from the slits in his clenched teeth. It feels dirty, what he's doing, but that's part of the charm. He feels appalling, painting his hand with thick dribbles of cum in his workplace bathroom while thinking of your acidic, outraged insults, but he cannot stop himself.

♡ Maybe it's for the better that Edward doesn't know how deeply you want him, too. He's hardly able to be around you as is without the sickening thoughts infecting his brain...if he knew you reciprocated, he would never be able to calm himself down.

♡ For sure, Edward would explode if he knew about the picture of him you kept in your bedside drawer. You took it on your Polaroid while he was over one evening, destressing from work. His smile is crooked and his hair is ratty, but that was the picture. The picture you held tight in your hand when you masturbated and whispered his name into the hot, blanketing air of your bedroom. The picture you stared longingly at when the aftershocks subsided. My precious boy. Sweet angel. I wish I could ruin you.

♡ Edward stuffs his prize back into his pocket and washes his hands with a sheen of light sweat dusted across his forehead and a heavy coat of shame wrapped around his shoulders. He knows deep down in the depths of his heart that you're far too good for him. He'd actually much rather be the loser moaning and writhing to the thought of you than risk the friendship he'd somehow managed to obtain. At least he'd gotten away with his gross thievery. Nothing more, he promised himself. There is no going further.

♡ He also knows deep down in the depths of his heart that there was no stopping the enormity of his depraved desire. It was famished and on the hunt for any fragment of you it could find. And if only he knew the same hunger lived within you, chronically clawing at your gut, demanding more, more, more. God, if only he knew.

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Envenomate

azul's diet includes salad dressing and the blood of his enemies.

azul x reader

cw: mild blood, biting

also on ao3

gift for @boundlessentity 🐙🧡

1

“I learned some cool stuff in bio today.”

Azul glances up at you as he takes a bite of his salad. “Hm?” He has too many manners to talk with his mouth full.

You have a habit of eating much faster than him. Probably why you get the hiccups so often. But hey, food is meant to be enjoyed. “Yeah, like, all octopi have venom in their spit.”

He chuckles and dabs at his mouth with a napkin, then takes a sip of water. “‘Octopi’ is not a word.”

You scoff at him. “That’s your takeaway? First of all, language snobbery is classist. Second, I will die before I use ‘octopuses’ as a noun on purpose. I will accept ‘octopods’ as a compromise but it’s on thin ice.”

He merely smiles into his glass of wine. “What else did you learn?”

“Uhhhh.” You glance up at the ceiling like the air overhead holds the answers. “You don’t actually have tentacles, just arms?”

“Correct. I do, in fact, have arms.”

“Shut up. Also you could get eaten by a shark.”

“So could you.” He spears the last few leaves of arugula on his fork and swirls them through the lemon pepper vinaigrette. One of Vil’s recipes that probably cost him one of his eight (ten?) arms. “This does not sound like a terribly informative class.”

“Can we go back to the poisonous spit?”

“Venomous.”

“Whatever. Does your therapist tell you you deflect this much?” You take the last two pieces of bread and load them up with olive oil and salt.

“I am merely ensuring you do not commit false information to memory.” He repeats the napkin-and-water-sip ritual. “For something to be poisonous means that it causes damage by being ingested, inhaled, absorbed, things of that nature. Eating a puffer fish, for example.” His eyes take on a different cast as he gazes at you, though he rests his chin atop his hands with his elbows on the table, a tiny concession to the side of himself with fewer manners. “Venom, in contrast, is injected into the victim, as it must enter the bloodstream to work. Merely touching it poses no danger, assuming no other toxins with adverse effects are present, or the surface is not already compromised.”

You just sort of blink at him. “Is it, um…like…has it touched me?” One hand hovers over your mouth as your fight-or-flight response helps you vividly imagine what it would be like for your face to go numb with a deadly neurotoxin. He wouldn’t do that.

Though the hunger in his expression suggests otherwise. You really wish he would quit this diet nonsense.

“Perhaps.” Another laugh ripples out of him. The sound makes it feel like you’re underwater even though you’re in the dining room. “What would you do if I said yes?”

You have the abrupt, terrifying mental image of him climbing onto the table and crawling towards you, knocking all the plates to the floor, licking his lips and holding you captive with too many arms, watching you squirm until he bites you and you can’t move anymore.

Then his face lightens and he laughs cheerfully. “I am joking, my love. Besides…you would have noticed.” Another smile, another sip of wine and then water. Vil said it helps to cleanse the palate of any lingering acidity to preserve one's smile.

How reassuring. “This diet is messing with your head.” You aim your bread at him. “You need more protein.”

He has taken to running one finger around the rim of the wine glass, sending a whine through the air. “Perhaps you are right.”

You wish he would stop looking at you like you’re the protein.

Dating Azul Ashengrotto should have been frightening for reasons that mostly did not involve the man himself.

His line of work, somewhat. His clientele, certainly. But him? He had always treated you differently. Protective. Gentle. Sweet, even, though nobody would believe you for it. What he saw in you must have been special, because you had nothing to offer that would be of any measurable value in return. And not once has he roped you into a client’s contract or put you in danger.

The hell with it. You stand and go around to his side of the table to give him your favorite kind of hug, where you drape your arms over his shoulders from behind and bury your face in his luxuriant hair. He hums contentedly and lays one hand over the point where your arms cross, near what you are pretty sure is the space between his second and third hearts. His other hand finds your hair in return.

“You smell nice,” you mumble.

“You are much too kind.” He turns around in his chair enough to look at you, close enough to kiss but not actually doing it. His eyes drop to your mouth before moving back to meet your gaze. “And much, much too good for me.”

At least he does finally kiss you after all. And it doesn’t even taste like salad dressing.

{1} | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[lixenn]

Vitamin S

*summons @myrmyrtheorca*

Dear Buddy,

light of my heart, namer of OCs, receiver of my ramblings. Not a day goes by where I'm not glad that tumblr has brought us together. I'm lucky to have you as a friend and I wish you ✨Happy Birthday✨ from the bottom of my heart. I hope that there will be some joy on your special day even with the low energy debuff and the overtime (which why TT I will fight your boss in a parking lot buddy just say the word).

In the meantime I'm injecting this vitamin S straight into your bloodstream. May it provide comfort in these trying times 🫡

Once again, this is a manga panel redraw provided by yours truly. The Squ turned out rather soft imo but I'm quite satisfied with the end result. (The water... honestly trying to figure that out might have been the trickiest part and that's with the rendering kicking my ass again)

Anyways, hope it's to your liking 💜✨

Always happy to share a braincell with you.

All the love

Your buddy Lix

[kayzero]

So I had an anxiety attack came up with a theory that if I put forth energy on January 1 then I will sow similar energy throughout the new year—for example, if I don’t sleep at all from midnight to midnight then surely this year I will have more energy in general. (My anxiety takes pleasure in consorting with my insomnia.)

In that spirit, because I want to actually write more Zero Win Game and just write more in general this year (there was an impressively small amount of words written by me overall in 2023), here’s…

A random fucking monologue by Akane that popped into my head while I was waiting for FF7R to download. It has now been an hour and a half since I started that download, and it gave me an estimate of about ten minutes.

…I’m pretty sure I can’t fit this into the Fragment where it originated from. “We have sixty minutes to escape or we all die but I guess we can indulge little miss Reversed Moon Arcana in one of her deranged fucking monologues.” I dunno. If you find yourself reading this aloud can you time how long it takes you?

Actually you know what, fuck it, I’ll shoehorn it in. It’ll be my own little Ice-9 lecture.

(Time yourself anyway I’m curious.)

“Akane, can you tell me what you remember from today?”

…

I remember…

Isn’t that funny? I remember. They said I wouldn’t, but I do, they said they’d be muddled, but they’re clear, I can see them so clearly.

They said they wouldn’t inject me, but they lied. They said it would make me forget—I guess they lied. They must have lied. I didn’t forget, I remember. I can see…

No. I can’t see them. I can’t see it.

I was looking at you.

But I can feel it. I feel it straining, fighting against me, getting stuck—it won’t turn, the wheel has to turn, the wheel always turns, the wheel can’t get stuck, it can’t stop, except when it does. Sometimes it does stop. The wheel stopped. And I had to push it to get it to turn again, WHY AM I ALWAYS THE ONE WHO HAS TO PUSH?!

I feel the moment that I push too far, but it’s not too far, it’s exactly far enough, I had to push you this, far, or else people would’ve just been hurt with nothing to show for it. I know it hurts, but I can’t just stop when it hurts, or else other people get hurt, everybody else gets hurt—so isn’t it better that I hurt just a few people, isn’t it better that I push you not too far, it’s never too far, it’s just far enough to change you forever, shatter your fragile humanity and make you something…

Less. A pile of ash that used to be a scared little sister. Then more. A functionally immortal being that can see and speak into the future, into the past, into a different present where someone was shot instead of spared, a proto-god that can see everything everywhere and everywhen… that used to be a scared little sister.

…Was she scared, do you think?

Her blood was warm when it hit my back, warm like an embrace, like the final embrace she’d ever give to anyone ever again in this timeline, and she gave it to me instead of her soon-to-be-grieving brother.

It didn’t dry. I would’ve felt it if it did. They must’ve cleaned me up. How considerate of our kidnappers, to respect proper hygiene as they force us to kill each other. Don’t share needles! Don’t injest mysterious substances! Don’t walk around covered in the blood of your victims!

God, I can smell it. It’s weird that I can smell it, it’s weird that it’s so overpowering, ‘cause isn’t blood supposed to be odourless? It’s not the blood that’s so overbearing, not really, it’s the iron in the hemoglobin trying to do its duty of carrying oxygen throughout the bloodstream, and it’s the iron that reacts to the oxygen in the air, and there was so much hemoglobin, there was so, much, iron. But it isn’t completely overwhelming, blood is supposed to be odourless, after all, and there’s only so much iron, it only takes up so much of the blood that’s spilled.

You’d wish it was completely overwhelming. I wish it was, at least. Because then it would mask the other scents, the worse scents. The scents of human waste being released upon death—because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you die. When you’re alive, you’re so tense, you’re so clenched, you keep everything inside, you just hold it deep inside, and you never let it out, you can’t let it out, you keep it bottled up forever, no matter what, no matter who—but when you die, the part of your brain telling everything to tense up dies first, and every other part of you forcibly relaxes, and everything comes rushing out, and everyone will know what was hiding inside this whole time.

Assumably. It’s never really happened to me, relaxing is for other people to do once I’m done, not that I’m ever done, ‘cause I always have to push. I don’t get to relax, not even in death.

…I can hear it.

Pulling. Screaming. Tearing. Splashing.

Ends are always so loud.

A quiet death would be nice, I think. I’ve never experienced one before. It’s always loud. Useless pounding and roaring jets, futile arguments and falling axes, reminiscence and splashing water

Yeah… When I’m finally done… When it’s my turn to relax…

I just want everything…

To be…

……

I’m sorry, what were we talking about?

[deadpoets]

☆ playlist explanation in the tags (if you're curious)

[amywritesthings]

THE FREAKING HOUSE SCENE, OH MA LORD HE'S SUCH A HUBBY MATERIAL AND WHEN I READ THAT I ALMOST DIED (in a good way), I AM SUCH A SIMP FOR HIS FINE ASS U CANT EVEN IMAGINE...lets just get baby boi to marry already and live our happy ever after for the rest of our lives 🥵🤌

Before that tho: heheh. I can't wait for the ANGST bc I live for this shit, it's like I need to inject it into my bloodstream to survive and I just know you're gonna do such a good job at it, literally gonna be thinking about this for two weeks until the next update cuz the whole fanfic has me in a chokehold 🤭

That being said have fun at the bachelorette next week and don't forget to take care of yourself! 💕

trust me, if we had a party of simps, you and i both would be in attendance bright and early. this man KILLS me and I'm writing him DKFJDKFDF LIKE... I KNOW LEVI'S A SOFTIE UNDER ALL THOSE SHIT JOKES, and he tries to so casually write it off to keep up his little tough dude persona. but you KNOW that man loves and has a lil domestic kink to him.

i'm so happy that you enjoyed the angst 🥺 wish i could say it looks up from here on out, but if ya know then ya know. (we are in it now, ariana.) i am going to be writing ch16 this week and next, it's the first chapter in a couple of weeks (beyond ch14 which was just a goodie) that i don't already have written out... so i want it to be perfect.

and thank you so much for the well wishes + the kind words about this chapter, seriously made my day!!

[junkydrawr]

OK, this isn't much of a scene but I haven't posted in a while. I'm working on a scene with Bunnie so that'll be next.

Anyway, in this scene, this is soon after Snively has let Naugus out of the Void. Naugus used his magic to temporarily bring his generator back online. It tired Naugus out so Snively had him brought to the infirmary.

(image is a SatAM screenshot with a filter, I didn't draw it)

Snively stepped into the infirmary. Naugus lay in the nearest bed.

Immediately, Snively was surrounded by the medibots, their cold hands reaching out to access him.

"Ugh. Get away. I don't need help."

The Head Medi, a robot taller and slimmer than the others, insisted on running a handheld scanner over him. He sighed and allowed it, staring over at the wizard.

Naugus had his eyes shut, an IV running into his hand atop the blanket.

"You do not require assistance at this point, Sir."

Snively pushed past and stood near the wizard's bed. "He still looks rather peaked."

"The patient refused nanites, Sir."

"Huh." Snively wondered why. The microscopic medical robots quickly repaired injuries and illness, with minimal side effects.

He examined the wizened wizard. What an ugly creature, he thought. He'd never seen a Mobian like this before. The mage seemed cobbled together from leftover parts. A horn, a claw, a human-like face but ears like a goblin. I wonder if he's even from Mobius originally. An alien, like me.

Julian's words needled him. Snively, you pathetic fool! You should've killed him! Uncle was right, of course.

He stroked the laser pistol at his side. The Securitybot behind him could make an even bigger hole with that laser cannon. With his eyes on Naugus, he clutched the pistol's grip, starting to withdraw it.

I can't take a chance. You don't seem the type who will be happy playing second fiddle.

Maybe Naugus wouldn't mind, though? As long as he was given a place to stay and do his magical research? He could be a fine weapon against the furballs.

I don't know what his goals are. And he's powerful. A threat. I can handle the flea-bitten scum myself.

He nearly had the gun out, his jaw set, when the wizard's eyes fluttered. He let go of the grip as Naugus peered up at him.

"Small One. You've come to check on me?"

"Yes." A fake smile, but not too overdone. "How are you feeling? The nanites work wonders, don't they?"

"Do you mean those invisible machines, injected into one's bloodstream?" The wizard sniffed haughtily. "I do not trust such things."

Snively didn't bother to surpress an eyeroll. "Or maybe you thought I was shooting you up with something else."

"Are you planning to shoot me up, Small One?" The orange eyes dropped to Snively's gun side.

"Of course not."

"Mmmm. The eternal honesty of the Kintobors." The wizard smiled slightly, showing just a peek of those jagged teeth. "You do not trust easily. But we will benefit from each other. I wish to do my research. You wish to rule Mobotropolis free of rebel resistance. I can help you, and you can help me."

Snively was quiet a moment before intoning dryly: "It's Robotropolis."

"Oh, you have not changed it to Snivotropolis?"

"Gods no. That sounds ridiculous."

The shark teeth showed more now. "You have more sense than Robotnik. I implore you, Small One, give me a chance. You could kill me anytime, I know. But you will be tossing aside what will be a great partnership."

Snively kept his face perfectly blank. His patented poker face. He'd heard the bullshit before. Trust me. Greatness together.

"What exactly is your research going to entail?"

"I am intrigued in testing my magic on the body and mind. Testing my own limitations. If I could borrow some of your myriads of prisoners, of course."

Snively didn't answer that. Naugus must not know their prisoners were all metal-plated.

"And there is still much to learn of the Void. I fear my crystal affliction is not completely resolved."

"You have Robotnik for that first use." Snively smiled crookedly. "If you don't damage him too badly, he'll last you a while."

"Oh, yes. I intend to use him. And he can work for you as well. He can take the daily menial burdens off you."

Snively didn't like this. The acquiescence inside him. Don't be stupid, Uncle hissed in his mind. Eliminate him!

Perhaps he spoke to defy Robotnik. Perhaps there was a chance this teamup could work. Perhaps he was just lonely.

"I haven't ended our partnership. You may stay here, and I will assist your research within reason. And you will do the same for me?"

"Of course, Small One."

Snively sighed. "It's Snively, actually."

-

A/N: that's it for now! I don't really want to post all the Robotropolis Sniv stuff at once because it has some 'plot points.' Lol. Even though a kindergartener could write a better plot than me.

[spicysix]

Steddie Asks!

3 & 10 🖤

thank you for asking!! ♡♡

3. Favorite three Steddie fanfics?

literally the hardest question of all time i have SO MANY but ok. i've decided to pick 3 from some of my favorite tropes and they're in no particular oder! • The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting. by @badpancakelol - timeloop if you know me you know i'm completely obsessed with timeloop fics and they're my favorite trope ever. this was the first one i've ever read, so it is the one responsible for my complete normalcy towards this trope. i wish i could inhale this fic. inject it directly onto my bloodstream. replace my beating heart with it. • You're Divine by @azrielgreen - Kas!Eddie a classic is a CLASSIC for a reason right. the longest fic i have ever read so far probably in my life??!! i usually see +100k words and RUN but i'm so happy i stayed for this one. i spent the entire weekend reading and sobbing in my bed bc this is simply a masterpiece. Little Bit will forever be my most beloved. • New York Hardcore by @grandmastattoo - punk!Steve ever since discovering punk!Steve i have never been okay for a single day in my life ever. rockstar!AUs are some of the best, and i love rockstar!Eddie just as much as the next guy, but something about Steve using his grief/how much he misses Eddie to rebel out and using Eddie's guitar as his own instrument is just...... UGH. DELICIOUS!!!

10. If you had to choose a different era for them, what would it be?

honestly i think the 80's are the best ever for them cause it allows some great exploring of themes such as period-typical bigoting, the AIDS crisis and whatnot. i'm not into things going backwards tbh so if i HAD to chose a diferent era it would be modern times simply bc i'd kill to follow Eddie Chaotic Munson on twitter.

send me some Steddie asks!

[euphorial-docx]

i love it so much when you talk about opev i wish i could take every word and inject it into my bloodstream, its so good to get to know more about this story and these characters! i think everyone should worship your brain cells bc duh opev!!!!!

ehh my brain is not the place to be but i appreciate the worship regardless <3

[danosrosegarden]

Make up sex after Edward breaks out of Arkham and comes to see you? You’re both crying and when he first woke you up reader was all angry and beating on his chest saying you hated him.

i gave my trust, i shed my blood - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (slight NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ mentions of violence, angst/anger and fluff mix, reader gets touched (genitals not specified)}

{word count ♡ ~800}

♡ he did it for you. through every moment of ghostly, freezing cold loneliness, every second of heart-twisting torment, every time you tasted the bitter, gritty coat of betrayal on your tongue, you should know that this was the truth: he did it for you.

♡ life was laboriously stagnant after edward was gone, each day stuck in the same aching, dreary limbo. you wake up, sleep crusted in the corners of your eyes. you forget to shower, forget to drink water, forget to eat, forget to do anything other than stare at the walls in the dark and feel as empty and destitute as a voice called out in a raging winter storm. the world was too loud. your screams were too quiet. what's the point in trying anymore.

♡ you think of the laughter laced within the bumps in the wall, all the memories injected into the picture frames and posters. each snapshot of life with him felt waterlogged and disintegrated now. there was the table you served each other dinner on. he hid it all from me. there was his book of crosswords he'd spend hours lost in each night. he murdered, spilled people's blood, reveled in them pleading for their lives. there was the polaroid taken in the park on your anniversary. grinning, cheeks pressed together, the sun beating down on your faces. he let himself get stolen away from me. he robbed us of the rest of our lives.

♡ you went through turbulent, crashing waves. there were the moments where your heart pumped warm love into your bloodstream, the moments where you thought of his face with a longing nostalgia. there were the moments you wept with your face in your hands, your body quivering and your eyes reddened with the mourning tint of what could've been. there were the moments you'd scream in your pillow until your throat was raw and stripped, the moments where you wish you could see him again just so you had the chance to claw his eyes out and slit his throat. how dare you do this to me. did all i gave to you mean nothing?

♡ you'd had a couple months to come to terms with the fact that you'd only ever see edward nashton again in news reports, which is why when you wake one night to hear the window crack and feel your bed shift with somebody's weight, you scream.

♡ gloved hands smack against your mouth and for some unexplainable reason, you soften against the feeling of the intruder's fingers.

♡ "i can't stay long."

♡ the gasp that comes whooshing like a windstorm out of your throat is instantaneous. he's wrapping his hands around you. he's pulling you in close. it feels completely foreign yet altogether instinctual, the way you reciprocate, like uncovering a time capsule. you want to feel the anger melting away like snow in the sun, but all that's left behind is the slushy, gray resentment. you're fragile; not fragile like a flower, fragile like a bomb.

♡ you shove him off of you. get the fuck away from me. your voice crackles like a thunderstorm, breaks like a tree limb in the lightning. you already feel the warm, shameful tears welling up, the tight-knit knot balling up in your throat.

♡ you missed him. with every blood cell floating through your body, with every wrinkle in your brain, with every eyelash and strand of hair. you missed him with your entire being. but there was also something gnawing from within that wanted to hate. something that craved the snap of bones and the gush of blood. you felt the two collide and battle within you.

♡ above all else, you were tired. dizzyingly exhausted. of missing him. of thinking about him. of waiting for him to return...and here he was. you could finally freefall into an all-enveloping slumber.

♡ edward shushes you through your sniveling babbles. i missed you, eddie. i hate you, eddie. i can't live without you, eddie. please don't go, eddie.

♡ his gentle, trembling touch feels like home. there was that edward you knew; always so anxious to get his hands on you, eyes always so wide with twinkling desire and dazzling hunger.

♡ i can't stay long, he repeats as his hand slithers down between your legs. you can already feel the bliss blossoming from where his fingers brush up against you.

♡ you don't care how long this moment will last; the feeling of his warm, gloved fingers touching your most sensitive areas and the familiar sound of his sputtering gasps bring you back to those moments. the moments of domestic euphoria, the moments where you two were infinite. with those old memories flickering in your gut, it was almost as if this would go on forever.

[maybe-solar-powered-calculator]

☼☼ SOLARs MAGNIFICENT CATALOGUING OF TAGs (!!!!) ☼☼ (all added to the bottom of this post for navigating convenience! like the letter labels in a dictionary!! alphabetical order not guaranteed.)

[ THIS IS HARD TO READ ON LIGHT MODE!! if you opened it in another tab n it showed up with a white background, go here instead! ]

act 1: the sun is a deadly laser (i am, unfortunately, not.) >>> SELF TAGS! stuff that i made! or something like that! .. scribblings on the walls (text posts) // the deranged ramblings and annotations within the confines of my prison. .. solar.png (my art??) // patterns akin to primitive cave drawings. .. hammers this to the top of my enclosure (pinned/info stuff) // warnings, hazard signs, beware of dog, etc

act 2: empty plastic organization bins (chaos abounds in the lair) >>> SORTING TAGS! only my soul knows how i choose the tags for each post. i would say my heart, but that things squishy. bleh .. q (queue) // pronounced "kiu". what is going on with english. do i even want to know?? .. cool graphics tag (nice pictures) // visuals of any sort that i particularly like!! gif shitposts? best art ive seen in my lifetime?? Here Goes .. the divine compels to Art (inspo) // subset of cool graphics that i wish to consume- ahem. to study under a microscope and learn from! .. rattling metal bars with a stick (stimboards or gifs) // trakatrakatraka heheheheee .. bag (bug tag) (insects and insect-adjacent friends) // snails is also buges to me. thank you for understanding .. HSFGDHJ (hsfgdhj) // cackling like the terrible gremlin that i am. no im not good at keysmashes, yes i always use this predetermined one .. see also: hall of fame (fav, the best ones) // i would frame these and put them in my wall if i had the guts to .. see also: fine china cabinet (hehehehe) // things that would go to hall of fame, but for Mysterious Reasons(tm) i am instead snatching to the Display of Shinies .. look at this later tag (remind me to do it..) // useful, interesting, and/or free stuff i want to come back to. sometimes just ideas .. distillate for gender extract (Gender,,,) // i am putting these in. the spirally overcomplicated glass tube thing and injecting the resulting compound into my bloodstream like some sort of wretched hrt .. gnawing the bars of my cage (WOOFWOOFBARKBARK /pos) // (I AM NOT BEING NORMAL ABOUT THIS) - you know how cats nibble the corner of things sometimes. yeah,, .. resonant frequency (something got in my eye ow gimme a sec) // (Squishy Heart is at it again. FEELINGS (ack)!! GET THE BROOM!) .. rules to live by (good advice) // Wise Words from mad prophets. we are on this website after all

act 3: rng (random name generator) >>> SUBJECT TAGS! i like giving silly names to some of them. .. wild metal on the dash (metal sonic!!) // statistically, i purposely go search for them most of the time. sometimes he does be on my dash tho...... .. benrey spotted (beny) // confirmed gamer sightings .. cherry flavored halls (lil hal!!) // id swear there was a black and red type but eh. thats the next closest thing i guess .. hermit crabs and/or traffic cones (hermitcraft/traffic) // yay silly block people doing Crimes!!!! .. tango of the tek variety (tangotek) // you know the one and only .. honkhonk (sky:cotl) // HONKHONKHONKHONK (hi) .. the bl(orb)os (portal) // sometimes a guy is just spherical in nature. sometimes theres many of them! (mostly the cores, but also general portal tag)

act 4: There Might Be More!! I Probably Forgor! I Will Add Them Later!

[m4nd0l0r]

Deviation of Self.

Description: The tarnations of his past are unescapable in every twist and turn. He realizes, it always will haunt him— and be the only way he can survive with everything he oh so desires.

Ship: Sith! (disguised as a Jedi) Five Hargreeves x Jedi! (GN!) Reader (Star Wars AU) (Implied Force Bond between the two)

Word Count: 2.2k+

Author’s note: WARNING! This deals with the topics of death and some form of a character study for Five (kind of) it can be triggering for ppl so please view with discretion!! i finally managed to finish this holy shit 😭😭 writer’s block once again came in to kick me in the ass, sending me to a thousand lightyears away from the earth itself- so that means i’m not sure how angsty this is— anyway i hope you enjoy reading this nonetheless!! (i might write other oneshots for this au- depends on it how it goes honestly SKSK) (if i do, that banner will be overused ASF im not making a new one mark my words—)

Dictionary ( i did say i’d do this so uh even if most ppl would know these info i’ll still add it for the sake of not confusing ppl :D): Force Bonds: a connection between two force sensitives or force users Force: basically the power used by both sith and jedi Sith: dark side users (usual villains) Jedi: light side users (usual heroes) Lightsaber: (we all know what this is cmon now /lh) weapons of force users

(Five is physically and somewhat mentally 18 in this fic!!)

Five Taglist: @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen @sunweee @fivelegance @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto @eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths @ghostlycherryblossomwonderland @seconds-not-decades @coolcatlover4 @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-loki-bitch @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula @magicstrange @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid @honeycombdumbass @kazuive @oscarisaacsleftballsack @zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery @wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666 @iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist @trashmouthsahra @crinklypink @halfumbrella @wifeofcamillamacaulay (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

What plagues— haunts the boy like a lifeline that injects through his bloodstream; a river of horror plated right at his wide eyes. Voices, cries spread upon each sleep he takes, dreams morphing into nightmares, and faces become even more obscure with each step he takes. 

Five watches your chest rise up.. and down.. He wants- wishes he could brush even his knuckles softly to your skin, to feel your almost lively warmth. But he can’t risk it— he shouldn’t. 

Another lifeline to watch, to care for. To make sure you don’t fade out like blaring sirens from afar. His eyes were weary, yet he doesn’t stop watching you breathe. Seeing you inhale and exhale gave him comfort- that he was truly here with you— that you were here with him alive. 

His hand clenching through his glove, a horrible noise squeaks out from his fist. He cannot indulge in such, even if it were his key to calmness. Even if he almost lost you— even if he wants to take it, to open the lock for himself to drown into. Into the closeness that others crave from another. 

Was this the reason why others indulged in such things? Why would he hear and see people say that they would die for it— would risk themselves for one puff of smoke- a drop from the same dazzling liquid he wishes he now possesses or a pop from a pill? Just to get a taste of release from reality- through the dreaded bitterness? To access something- that peace they all crave— the very thing his and your own masters hoarded away from them? 

He didn’t bother to try to comfort you from what happened— he could tell you were trying to stray from it, to think of something else. And he respected that— because he does not want to talk about it either. 

The night ended with your kiss on his cold cheek, a warm breeze to a cold evening. He merely closes his eyes, letting it etch unto his mind, your actions almost frail and so weakened from fatigue. 

Breathing in deep, the Sith wishes to reach closer- to not be this far— for serenity to come into his mind, and he knows he will not regret. 

But he knows you would not want that. You do not need that- you need rest, he tells himself. Selfishness was something he cannot afford right now, not when he was already so hours ago. 

As if a root digs into his body, sprouting a seed to invade his senses. He only hopes your dreams are better. Better than the crumpling of flesh Five can’t get out of his head. Crack crack. It goes. 

He then takes another deep breath, his eyes now closing. 

The scraping of his glove to the hilt of his lightsaber chimes to him, as if he was trying to find comfort from it. But silence only rings like a drum in an empty parade. Fatigue rushing through him, from the sides of his head, to his palms— he wouldn’t be so disoriented if he just slept. Five tells himself off— his free hand cups his forehead, trying to lessen the wrinkles forming. 

You hum in your sleep, and he only tiredly smiles from the sound. Rustling is heard as you adjust your head further unto the comforts of your pillow, your hair now strung across the sheet. Whenever you slept quietly- in past missions- like a mouse playing dead under its captor’s whim, it scared him. 

He had to fight the urge to press his ear onto your back- or your chest, just so he could hear your heart pumping- your lungs breathing in and out. 

He preferred hearing it truly from you, not just a dislocated song from the Force, but he decided to settle watching instead- your chest rising and falling smoothly, with a few hiccups and snores. He will take what he can, but he doesn’t mind.

He prefered to hear such noises rather than the deathly quiet. 

Your breathing fades out, he fizzles out from reality, somewhere eerily quiet- more ‘stable’— rather than your tired huffs in your sleep. He doesn’t fight it off- and only lets himself be drowned to those noises- to forget. 

However he does not. He can never forget, he never will. Five merely hates himself— for not being strong enough- that he wasn’t quick enough to be by your side as he needs- wants to be. 

And he couldn’t accept it, rather he searches for another solution- an equation that simply something that he cannot solve nor exists entirely. 

-x-

He could feel the wind flare through his cheeks, as if it were fire and its purpose was to burn him alive. He could smell the scent of rotting flesh- even when all that remained were destroyed droids and the whiff of singed electrical wires- the same stench that bore through his hands as he picked up scraps out of the hands of the fallen. 

“Five..?” You choked out in short breaths. “Shit… shit..” It was hard to take in air— the pain in your chest- blood seeping from your hands, the adrenaline sinks into your veins. Your hand bloody from your own, almost paralyzing you to the point the feeling of your flesh pulsing- trying to stitch itself together when it simply cannot— it was numbing.

“I ‘ll be— be fine-“ You spill out- but he can’t feel his throat open to say anything. Silence only fills his guts, and lingers through the air. Fear takes his thoughts away, and leaves only irrationality. But he wishes he could let out something- to scream out to you that you need to live— that he was here- and he won’t ever dare to leave. 

He knew it pains you, that it cuts you deeply like a gash. He feels it with you— the bond formed by the Force for the both of you has him want to vomit- the pain was burning, sickening even. It made him feel as if he were being lit on fire— The flames eating him alive.

Yet, as you suffer so, you did not scrunch your face nor you let out another wail of pain— you only formed a smile. One that wants him to think that you’re fine with this— that he isn’t losing you. 

He at first thought you were letting yourself calm through of the teachings of the Jedi, to not be afraid of death. But he knows you more than Pogo, you were fearful, paranoid. You do not wish to know what could be beyond this plane of existence. You don’t want to die trying to. 

And he doesn't want that for you either.

He feels— no, hears from the sorrowful chants of the Force. You were fading like mist— your pulse lowers.. thump.. thump… Your own heartbeat trickles out as if your own life force was nothing but dew in the aftermath of rain, the beginning of the end of a storm. 

It was getting slower, quieter— it was terrifying. Different from what he has heard in this fight— It was one that seemingly has him sweat to the point he would feel fear. It was organic, evidence that a real fragment of a soul- a life, was slipping from his hands— and he did not know what to do. 

His master would know— Not Pogo, Not even Reginald who he despised from the Order— but her. She knew what to do, she taught him, before sending him to the Jedi to foil their pathetic teachings. To let the galaxy know that they were nothing but witches who love deceit. 

The Handler has known many things, after all- she has once prophesized an inevitable doom carries itself all over the wasteland. He felt a shiver from his spine, and it wasn’t from the sheer temperatures. His mind could wrap only on apprehension. Palms were sweating, and he was sure his stomach was feeling sick. 

He only sees what will be the only remains of the galaxy. Nothing but the remnants of havoc. Despair has taken out its sickle and planted death across the soil, sinking unto the roots of life, killing the undeserving. But that is how the cycle is, one fails so another could prosper. And those who remain- undiminished- will wilt, like autumn had just passed. 

Stars- he didn’t want to remember- not here, not again— he would rather be elsewhere than come back to this dizzying remnants of that pathetic rock, into that terror that still plague his days. He wished he could burn his eyes off- to never see these, but his mind would not resist in torturing him.

Because the only thing Five can see is the tomorrow his master had prophesied. And even if he would burn his own eyes off, that will be the only thing he’ll be able to remember under his own eyelids. 

He did not want to taint you with the same things she has done to him. The vileness of the Dark Side tortured him, made him bleed and has consumed his entire being that each time he tries to focus on using the Light Side to appease Pogo- he is never sure if he managed to mask the evil from him. 

He jogs his mind— Not letting panic fully settle in his mind— and cave in rather than logic- than coherence. His hand subconsciously reaches out, and he lets in the dark. 

He is a seed that lives on in this barren dirt. One that sprouted unto a wooden tool; unearthing what could be saved- the weeds that are believed to have dried off, yet are still flourishing; he preserves the things that persist. In that case, it would be resources, plants unaffected by radiation, little rodents, any source of life, he will take it to safety. That is his mission, not from his master nor the order that he wishes he could detest but he just can’t.

He has to help you— save you. Because, what is the point of his power? If he cannot use it for his gain? 

He is again a boy chained to the ideals that were never his- that were injected deep into his mind to harness the deep desires of his master, and those before him. Channeling his anger, his fury— he then heals. 

Watching your flesh stitch itself back together, your breathing stronger than before, and your heart- thank the Force- was beating quicker— 

You were alive, breathing and beating as one, that is all that mattered to him. Your eyes drooped from exhaustion, but he did not mind, you do not need to see his eyes change color from the green you know. 

And as he steadies your resting form by the side, he turns on his back. 

He does not hear multiple pulses, ones that seemingly shakes his mind to the point he would feel guilt once his saber goes through their skin.

He only hears metal wiring, gears clunking unto each other, orders played out all over again in their databases, and the hissing of buffers that gives life to these things— to have each and every one of these disposable fighters be programmed to fight a war it does not know it was born for. 

He spins his scalding blue lightsaber in his gloved hand, readying himself. Lips pursed as his mouth dries- the terrors that sinks into his skin, it is what creeps into his consciousness every moment. 

His pupils- once was verdant— now have grown tired, horrified, it became a sickly yellow, flames- fury tormented his soul, and what used to show his kindness, his true self, has now been clouded with the wrath he has been trained to use against others.

The impact of his blade rang unto the metal plate of the Commission droids. His breath hitches excitedly, an almost surprised grin plastered on his face. 

An electric buzz hummed through the wind, His plasma saber as his source of light- he only sees the material shine of the humanoid creations, his hand raises up high, locked into a fist as he shoves them all to the side, watching them break into little pieces, all sliding off like wet paint splattered onto a canvas. His saber cuts through each of their parts— screws and wires scrunched and charred fall to the dirty ground. 

BZZT! WZZT! The droids cry out— but he feels no sympathy, he does not speak, nor does he try to overthink. You will be fine now, he thinks, you won’t know. Because if you did, he would not know what to do. 

But he sees what you would do. What you would say. It rushes through him like acid on metal, and it sickens him so. 

“I never thought that I..” You would only let other words fill your throat. “.. I would see you become the very thing we, no— I swore to destroy.” 

He forcefully takes him out of his delusion- focusing on the sound of your heart again. It was so calm and collected- and it tried to give him peace. 

But peace is not enough to simmer the madness, after all, Five was no Jedi. 

He feels it swell deep into the remnants of his heart from his own thoughts. The same madness his master told him to hide in order to slip in through the blind eyes of the people. 

He now merely tunes out the singing— the crying of these automatons— the liveliness of the dark Force that rushes through his veins like some sort of bacta salve- and he is greeted with cold, metallic silence as wires burn around him. 

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whump Words Ask Game: Numb :)

Hi just-a-space-rabbit! Absolutely! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

From this ask game

"Whumpee~," Whumper singsonged, "I have something I'd like you to try~."

Whumpee groaned internally. Ever since Whumper had taken them, they had tried every possible way to gain Whumpee's affections. Lavish room, gifts, hugs, soft words, the works. Well, Whumpee wasn't one to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome. There was nothing Whumper could do to get Whumpee to be affectionate. Nothing.

"If it's another outfit, I'm not interested," Whumpee called.

Whumper appeared in the doorway with a hand concealed behind their back.

"Not this time, Pet, though I wish you would wear the things I buy you." Whumper strode closer until they and Whumpee were inches apart.

"I have something different in mind today."

Whumper revealed what they had been concealing behind their back. A syringe, with a very sharp-looking needle.

"I'll pass," Whumpee said.

Whumper laughed.

"your sense of humor knows no bounds, Whumpee. Give me your arm."

Before Whumpee could argue, Whumper took Whumpee's arm and injected the drug into their bloodstream.

"What the heck!?" Whumpee yelled, holding their pricked arm.

"Shhh," Whumper cooed, "calm down, Little Pet, it'll only take a couple of minutes to kick in."

"What did you just give me!?" Whumpee asked, their voice higher than usual.

"There there." Whumper pulled Whumpee into an embrace, "it's just something to help you be more... receptive to my affections."

Whumpee tried to push Whumper away, but they stopped when they realized they were losing feeling in their fingers and arms. A few seconds later, their knees buckled; they couldn't feel their legs. Whumper lowered Whumpee to the ground slowly. By the time Whumper pulled them into their lap, Whumpee's entire body was completely numb.

"Wha' did you do?" Whumpee asked, though they couldn't feel their tongue.

"It's a numbing agent, little Whumpee. It'll keep you nice and relaxed for me, isn't that nice?"

Whumper and Whumpee stayed like that for several minutes. Whumper ran a hand through Whumpee's hair, and Whumpee couldn't even shudder. After some time, Whumper looked at the clock on the wall and gasped lightly.

"Is that the time already?" Whumper said, "it's time for somebody to get in bed."

Whumper lifted Whumpee into a bridal carry and deposited them gently in bed. They climbed in with Whumpee and held them close. Whumpee was sure they had started to cry, but they couldn't feel their tears. Their entire body was dead weight, and there was no chance of getting away from Whumper now.

[hopeless-romantic-inthedark]

here’s to all the people that double over just to try to stop anything else from getting under their ribs to their heart

(points to the sheer chaotic and desperate beauty of despair and)

/confess i’m looking for the cure to a disease as yet undiscovered

he’s gotta be larger than life!

know what they’re searching for,

still fifteen under it all, the age when

my eyes linger[ed] on the swell of each joint under my skin, so much thicker than yours, and the hair, three shades lighter with an inch of grown-out undyed hair one shade closer

and i wish you were here, words spilling like blood, like ink on my skin, like poetry the way the sunburn kisses your cheeks and i wish i could too

bang bang bang!

(here we go)

our love will never end,

waiting for you to

come back again

time’s insatiable eraser and all that,

you’re so poetic like a polaroid,

always fade for me

glass that glows in the sun, won’t you always remind me of what it is to be young

dance alone under the stars with no music and no light and tell me tonight’s a secret

do you know what it means to have a wound that never heals?

i still feel it in my stomach when i read your name.

what a lovely story, the leaves are green and i fall into monochrome

my eyes never used to be blue, isn’t it lucky that

something’s gonna give

your name is written all over my life story and i go back and change it so it’s your real one and not your old one.

i love you.

you’re still probably working

at a nine to five pace

i wonder how bad that tastes

(hope i give you hell, hope i give you hell)

then

a list

of all the poems i’ve ever written.

your name.

and a splatter of blood and paint across the page.

the rest is blank and empty.

i wanna inject that song into my bloodstream and play it till i memorize every note

i never used to have to miss the idea of you this badly, i haven’t heard from you for months

and im afraid all our roses will grow back as thorns

i don’t know if i can survive in this place without you

but i don’t think i want to go anywhere else

a soul that’s born in cold and rain

knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

im so dizzy i can finally breathe but it does nothing

look at you, strawberry blonde

fields rolling on

i used to love it when you’d call my name.