#Sleep deprivation tw

[avastar-thelastfirebender]

[REBLOGS > LIKES]

I really, really REALLY wanted to put this scenario down on paper for a while.

Character Warnings: Timekeeper Cookie, Roguefort Cookie (Pursuit of Lost Time)

TW: Early Stages of memory loss, gaslighting(?) and manipulation, severe sleep deprivation, nightmares

Other notes: In my fanon, Cinnamon is Roguefort's little brother. Remember this. (Also it's literally 1 AM so no beta we die like goombas)

It wasn't often that Roguefort would remain awake for days on end for anything but a heist. Well, this was a heist, just not one for gems. No, no, the target this time...it was far more precious.

"You're twitching. Perhaps you should get some rest." Timekeeper's voice snapped Roguefort out of their thoughts. Truth be told, Roguefort hadn't slept in days, weeks...actually...what day was it? Something that started with an F? It didn't matter.

"I don't think I've ever recalled you caring for my wellbeing." Rogueforf wouldn't make eye contact. Something in the back of their mind was telling them not to, but they just couldn't place their finger on why, exactly.

"Your moms weren't the ones who said they could help you find the watch, were they?" Timekeeper's tone had an edge of sugary malice to it as she continued to operate the aircraft. She didn't even need to look to know that Roguefort had flinched at the mention of their mothers.

"You and I both know damn well why they didn't." Usually, Roguefort would've done everything in their power to hode their anger. But a lack of sleep, grief, timeline jumping, and a misguided attempt at closure (for lack of a better term) all did a number on their mind. "You said yourself that I'd be able to fix the family if I went with you, so don't even go there."

"I did say that, didn't I? I'm sure Cinnamon is in total agreement with your decision. After all, he looked up to you the most, so I bet he trusted you to make the right choice."

Okay, that was the last straw.

"You know what? I'm going to bed." Roguefort sounded angrier than they woumd've liked, but at the same time they sounded exasperated. Understandably so.

"Yes, yes, goodnight to you, too." Timekeeper feigned a yawn as she heard Roguefort storm off in annoyance. And as such, they would totally miss the little smirk growing on her face as they left.

Roguefort wasn't sure how an entire guest room could fit in an aircraft, but they had learned to not question Timekeeper's bs a while ago. They wouldn't feel themself flopping down on the mattress, they wouldn't feel their eyes closing. All they'd be able to hear before drifting off was the sound of their own voice humming Für Elise. They knew it made Cinnamon happy...they just wished they could remember why...

~

When Roguefort opened their eyes, they were in a dark, empty void. It wasn't cool or echo-y like voids in sci-fi movies, just one where Roguefort was truly alone.

That was when their eyes landed on Cinnamon.

"Cinnamon...hermanito....is that really you?" Roguefort's voice was shaky with tears and desperation, but Cinnamon wouldn't say a word, only continuing to stare at his big brother.

"Cinnamon...it's me!" Roguefort was met with more silence.

"Hermanito...please..." Silence. The silence made Roguefort feel something they couldn't describe. They just knew they didn't like it.

"Cinnamon...Cinnamon, come on! S-Say something, damn it!" But Cinnamon wouldn't say a word.

"CINNAMON!"

~

Roguefort sat up in the bed with the speed of a rocket, breathing heabily as they tried to regain their bearings. They had definitely had nightmares in the past, but this one felt different. Roguefort sighed, knowing there was no way in hell they'd be able to go back to sleep now. With a sigh, they left the guest room and returned to the main control panel, unsurprised to see Timekeeper still there.

"I thought you were going to bed?"

Roguefort hesitated.

"I'm not tired." They sat in the passenger side of the control panel, seeming determined and bored at the same time.

"We need to find that damn watch."

[gamegem92]

Hana: If you don’t sleep, how will you function?

Cula: I run on three fuels: spite, anxiety, and of course, tomato juice.

[another-whump-sideblog]

do you think you can do 9 from the scared whumpee prompts for anyone? :3

I sure can! @whump-in-the-closet mentioned wanting to see more stuff with Ray, so I’m going to knock out two birds with one stone, but let me know if you want this prompt for one of out main trio and I’ll write that as well.😁

9) “No more. Please… just for today.”

Ray reminds themself over and over that this is for their sister’s sake. This is worth it. No matter how exhausting, how painful, how frustrating, it is worth it because their sister will survive and live a full life. They chose this. They agreed to this. This is worth it.

Orchard is not someone they would ever want to be a servant to under normal circumstances. At first, it wasn’t so bad. They’re familiar with cleaning and cooking and the other stuff Orchard has them do, and they’d found that once they’d gotten stuff down to muscle memory, it was meditative and relaxing so long as Orchard wasn’t around. They were even starting to get quick and efficient enough that they had free time to do other things, until Orchard noticed.

“We must find something else for you to work on.” She said. “Our deal didn’t include free time. You are to be my servant until the end of our agreement, and you will only be allowed breaks for essential functions of keeping you alive. It’s a waste of a deal, otherwise.”

Orchard had Ray rearrange her small library alphabetically by title. It was monotonous, but not so bad.

The next day, when Ray finished their assigned chores, she had them arrange the books by color.

The day after, Orchard had them organize the books by subject. This… is just busy work. Orchard just wants to make sure they don’t have any time to themself. Because that would be ‘a waste of a deal.’

When they finish, they start getting ready to go to bed, but Orchard interupts them. “I didn’t say you were done for the day. I changed my mind. I want the books in alphabetical order by author.”

“Yes, Orchard.”

It takes forever. Ray’s exhausted and their back hurts and their fingers ache. Still, there’s a small thrill of accomplishment when they finish and know they could finally get some sleep.

“Servant.” Orchard stops them before they even leave the library. “I liked it better when the books were ordered alphabetically by title. Fix it.”

It’s been too long since they last ate, and they can’t stop their hands from shaking. It feels nothing like when their hands shake from happiness.

They smile wide. “No more. Please… just for today. I have to sleep, I’ll be so slow and perform poorly without sleep.”

“Are you making excuses?”

“No, Orchard. I’m asking to be allowed to sleep, so that I can be a better servant to you.”

Orchard looks them up and down, eyes cold. “Once you finish reorganizing them, I want you to check every page of every book for rips or other damage.”

Ray’s vision blurs. This is for their sister. This is worth it. They chose this. This is for their sister’s sake, no matter how exhausting, how painful, how frustrating.

“Oh, and Servant? Don’t get any of your tears on the pages, or you’ll be punished.”

[all-the-gory-details]

Whumptober Day 11/12

Animal Trap / Captivity / “No one will find you.”

Red / Insomnia / “I’m up, I’m up!”

Sorry, life has been shitty, combining these two days cause I couldn't bring myself to write last night.

TW: Non-con touch (Not sexual), stress position, sleep deprivation, blood, broken nose, restraints, torture

Georgia sat curled up in the corner, trying not to think. Casey still hadn’t come back from his ‘client’, and she couldn’t help being worried about him. She hardly knew him, but it didn’t matter. He was kind to her, and that was enough at the moment.

It didn’t help that Felix was pacing the room, back and forth at a slow pace, fists and jaw clenched tightly. Georgia had a feeling that if they were acting nervous, there was reason to worry.

When the door opened again, both heads snapped up, anxious to see Casey and his condition, but when Alexei walked in, he was alone.

He smiled at the way Felix froze, tense like a spring forced to stay coiled, and at Georgia’s wide eyed, deer-in-the-headlights stare. Whatever had been causing his bad mood earlier, it was gone.

There was nothing but delight and curiosity in his face when he walked over to Georgia, crouching in front of her. He reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, but she flinched back, hands flying up to her chest in an attempt at protection.

“Ah ah ah,” Alexei chided, “stay still.”

When he grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the face, she couldn’t help pulling away.

Alexei sighed. “Still so much work ahead of us,” he remarked, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry, though, we’ll get started today.”

Without another word, he grabbed Georgia’s forearm and pulled her to her feet, before grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her towards the door.

Felix stayed frozen in the middle of the room, as much as they wanted to protect Georgia. Finally, when the pair had reached the door, they took a step toward Alexei. “W-wait, don’t do th-”

“Shut your mouth,” Alexei ordered. He paused, not bothering to turn around. “Another word, and things will be much worse for your new friend.”

Felix took in a deep breath and let it out, slowly. They didn’t say anything else.

“Come on, darling,” Alexei said with a smile, once he was sure of Felix’s obedience. “Let’s get started on your training, shall we?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Georgia wasn’t sure how long it had been. Hours, definitely. Days, improbable. But maybe.

It felt like days. Alexei hadn’t come to visit since he had chained her wrists behind her back and to the floor. Since he gave the order.

No sleeping, love, he had said. Don’t fall asleep.

She hadn’t slept well the night before, and the room was dark, and she couldn’t keep… her eyes… open… any longer.

She opened her eyes to a sharp pain in her stomach, right below her ribs. “I’m up!” she gasped, vision blurry and heart pounding.

Alexei was standing a foot away from her, smiling, as usual. “You are now. The problem is that you were asleep a moment ago. And I told you to stay awake.”

Georgia didnt know what to say to this, so she said nothing at all.

Alexei disconnected her handcuffs from the ground and stepped back. “On your knees, Georgie. Now.”

Her heart was pounding as she slowly pushed herself to her knees in front of Alexei. She didn’t know what was happening, only that it wasn’t good, it was really really not good-

Alexei bent down in a moment, grabbing her by her hair and, before she could even register what was happening, slammed her face into the stone floor.

Her nose exploded with pain, blowing up like a balloon animal. A red one. There was red everywhere, on the floor, on her face, in her mouth. Red tasted like copper and salt and pain, and she spit but it would not leave.

Alexei pulled her up by her hair, and she could hardly see through all the red.

His words were warbled by the blood pumping through her ears. She heard comfortable. And disobedient. And sleep.

Sleep sounded wonderful. A soft pillow to match the painful one sitting in her head, a nice dark room with no lights to hurt her eyes, and deep, comfortable oblivion.

When Alexei hooked the cable to her wrists and adjusted the length, Georgia was forced out of her daydreaming as her arms were pulled back and up and tight, forcing her to stand, to bend over, anything to lessen the pressure in her shoulders.

Alexei smiled at his handiwork for a moment before leaving and locking the door behind him.

And Georgia was left alone to bleed, to cry, to tremble with exertion and exhaustion.

Anything but sleep.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Whumptober Day 2: Insomnia and Crying to Sleep.

Canon compliant. In exile, Tommy's insomnia is bad enough to the point he’s severely sleep deprived. Initially angry at Tommy's inability to do much, Dream softens when Tommy starts crying. Warnings for sleep deprivation, delusions and hallucinations (both from insomnia and a long lasting psychotic disorder), religious delusions/hallucinations, religious guilt, some graphic (hallucinated) violence, abuse, self hatred, self victim blaming, and some internalised ableism.

ao3 link

—— The sun rose from outside the Tnret, painfully bright even with the canvas dulling the overwhelming light. Birds chirped a cheerful warning, a cue that Dream would arrive soon.

Dream, who would blow up everything Tommy had made the past day. Dream, who’d expect him to put in the hard effort to get it back and would, undoubtedly, punish him for failure.

Tommy wasn’t being lazy- that wasn’t the issue. If he was being a fucking leech, Dream would have every right to beat him half to death and tell him how much of a fuck-up and a failure he was, who no one would ever tolerate. And Tommy had accepted the truth now- that he was such a horrible brat that even Tubbo hated him, and Dream, saintly as he was, was the only person who’d ever want to be his friend ever again if he didn’t shape up.

No, Tommy wasn’t being a self-pitying, obnoxious nuisance. The thing was, he hadn’t slept properly in a week. He’d had a handful of minutes, a blissful hour, maybe, of course. You couldn’t stay up that long without a few grasps at unconsciousness without dying, and the universe wasn’t merciful enough to allow Tommy that. And he’d- he’d tried so hard to be good despite seeing shit and feeling like he was gonna vomit and his head being all hurty as fuck. He did everything Dream said like a good kid would.

But he’d just crashed completely once Dream had gone last night. Woozily, he’d managed to limp back to his bed before collapsing straight onto the floor, but after that, he just… couldn’t move an inch. The bed suffocated him, but when he closed his eyes to sleep, he felt phantom hands nipping at his skin, heard voices indistinguishable but loud, saw colours dancing in front of him with such a bright intensity he couldn’t keep his eyes shut. What little sleep he’d been able to snatch from Life’s cruel grasp had been awoken by horrific visages, loud screams that came from nowhere, agony like a sword through the chest.

And it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to seeing shit. It was normal, he reckoned- he’d been dealing with it since he was little, and no one told him you weren’t meant to do it, so everyone must do it- and so it was his responsibility to deal with. But his exhausted state made it so hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

Prime, he would be in so much trouble. He wasn’t sure of much, but that he was sure of. Dream would have his hide if he just flopped around all day and could barely recall his own fucking name.

He was barely even startled when he heard a “Tommy?”. Usually, he didn’t hear shit; that was fucking weird, but he’d started doing so about a day into his insomnia nightmare experience, and it was strange how quick you got used to that shit. He just buried his head deeper into the pillow, the scratchy, dried blood feeling like ants digging into his cheeks and through his bones. He could have sworn he heard them digging into him, too, puncturing flesh.

That was as real, and as fake, as the sound of Dream calling his name.

The canvas sliding open made a kaleidoscope of painfully bright colours cover Tommy’s vision: blue-yellow and pink-green, and other shades that didn’t exist. He groaned, the words straining against his throat- he couldn’t remember the last time he drank, and he felt like devils were poking at his tongue when he tried to make even the tiniest of noises. Dimly, he thought it might have been a punishment from the Gods, for not honouring the Primes enough.

The figure that entered he vaguely recognised as Dream, yet seemed more like a divine servant, sent to punish him for his sins, the way the light refracted on him leaving a halo, the air humming around him with the faintest sound of church bells. Tommy couldn’t help but stare, unable to focus on the words out of his mouth and instead on the shifting lights obscuring Dream’s mask from view. Like it was too sacred for Tommy to see, censored from a sinner’s eyes.

Prayers formed in Tommy’s throat, malformed and scratchy. The holy words came out distorted in his mouth, the energy it took to say them enough he couldn’t keep his eyes open. It took such an effort to try he didn’t even see the slap coming.

His cheek stung, as if impacted by holy flame, and Tommy yelped, his own voice sounding harsh and heretical. He could barely tell the location of the impact, his whole body aching, as he tried to listen. He was a good follower, and he’d do as Dream taught, or as much of it as he could remember through the confusing hazy fog of his mind.

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice was a low growl. “Are you trying to hide from me?”

Tommy took a slow blink, unsure of what Dream was even talking about. “I- I, the Primes, didn’t I pray? Did- was it wrong? What was the- what? I’m sorry.”

“Tommy, what the fuck are you talking about?” Dream shook his head, iridescent shine through his hair making him harder and harder to look at. “I- are you screwing around? Tommy, do you want a punishment?”

“I- it’s been, there’s been, it’s all been digging in, y’know?” Tommy could not communicate the depths of his damnation, and it became clear to him as he spoke that that was the cause. “I’m sorry, the light, the- the things in my skin and shit, it’s been- I haven’t prayed, haven’t slept, it’s been- are you here to send me away? I don’t…” He trailed off a frustrated huff, tears pricking at his eyes.

Tommy wasn’t sure if the noise following was an amused chuckle or the bells of the Primes. “Tommy, how much sleep have you gotten?”

“Um, like, two hours over the past week, I think? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m just so, I’m just so tired, I can’t even- I’m sorry, I’m-“Tommy cut himself off with a sob, one he wasn’t sure if it came from frustration, sadness, or fear. Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was love.

“Well, then. No wonder you’re like this.” There was a softness to Dream’s voice like an aura of light, and being unworthy in that presence made Tommy cry harder, so confused and feeling sick with himself. “Aww, you don’t have to cry. You’re not in trouble for being unable to sleep or whatever. You should have just told me.”

A gentle hand ran through his hair, lifting him into sitting as the other wiped away his tears as much as possible- a fruitless task, since Tommy was still wailing, but wasn’t that what toiling for the Gods and the Primes was, really? The touch felt like it was draining Tommy’s sin away, taking away the weight that left him awake and leaving him floating in his own brain, finally able to sleep after the tears broke through.

As Tommy drifted off in the arms of the Primes, he vaguely heard a soft “I should do this more often, really.” The words only sounded like hymns in his head, a promise that his holy status had been restored and he was once again in the Primes light.

What was he without that, after all?

[onmitsu-taicho]

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” (Ayame @ Soi-fon)

"Whether I have or have not is none of your affair, Hirako-san." As ever, the assassin's words were blunt and nearly emotionless, while their face never so much as flickered with any emotion beyond its usual blankness. Ayame was, of course, right in her reading of the Second Division's Captain — but hell would first freeze and then thaw again, before Sui-Feng would admit to such a thing. Sleep was a rare commodity for someone as obsessive zealous about their work, whether in training the rank-and-file Shinigami, or in commanding the Onmitsukido. 'Delegation' was a word that hadn't existed in their vocabulary until the end of the War with Aizen, and with the Quimcies on Soul Society's doorstep, it seemed that Sui-Feng had once again forgotten the concept.

"Your only concern, should be my performance on the battlefield."

@hirak0s

[livestosave]

@ein-schnee-sturm from here

It was a scene that felt both familiar, and...not. He'd never been on this side of it, not like this. The other two, yes...he'd never been the adult coming in like this. It struck him, then, to wonder if Lark and Goodkind had ever felt this weight in their chest. The aching desire to set things right...and take care of who they could.

James took a breath, and slowly stepped inside. Instinctively, his shoulders dropped from their usual stiff, straight posture, to fall more naturally and make him a little smaller to the eye. Right now...the last thing he wanted was to be intimidating, or authority right now.

"Winter..." Despite himself, his voice came low and soft, pitched to be as soothing as he could manage. Something to latch onto, even if she couldn't meet his gaze, or even truly look at him. Gods, he could hardly ask it of her, could he? "I'm not asking you to leave her."

No. No, he couldn't. No. He remembered Ozpin too clearly laid out on a hospital bed. Remembered too clearly being in one.

Carefully, the huntsman stepped closer, keeping an eye out in case he was pushing. In case distance was what his student required from him. He wouldn't presume his presence itself was going to be helpful; he knew all too well that it could be quite the opposite.

"Please. The doctor won't make you leave, I've made arrangements. You can stay here...just please, rest." For now...for now, he would let the rest sit. He could say Winter was not to blame until he was blue in the face, but it wouldn't remove the feeling that she was. Nothing could except time and healing.

He would know that too, wouldn't he.

[ein-schnee-sturm]

“You can barely keep your eyes open, go lie down.” - James at Winter, your choice of time period darling

Calling Winter tired would’ve been an understatement. She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes since that day in Mistral, the explosion burned into the inside of her eyelids — and the acid taste of failure eating her alive from the inside out. Logically, the snow leopard knew that it wasn’t her fault, that she had had no way of knowing that the Atlesian embassy would be targeted; and even more so, that Gwenn would be inside. Gwenn, and all of Ilya’s family (those that mattered, anyway), and countless other innocents who had had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the three days it had taken to extract Winter’s Teammate’s — miraculously still living — body from the wreckage, she had been focused on keeping Ilya from self-destructing.

Finding Demeter at the same time had mollified the blond wolf only enough for them to proceed to glue themself to their cousin/surrogate sister’s bedside, much as Winter was still doing with Gwenn. Gwenn’s father Rodrigue visited when he could; her mother Naomi was busy “mourning her son”; and her baby brother Felix had been dragged out, kicking and screaming, by Naomi when he tried to join Winter. All of that had been over a week ago. Winter had kept as uninterrupted a vigil as she could, and she had thought she was fine, if tired… but clearly, she was doing worse, if someone else was telling her to sleep. For a long moment, the soon-to-be Second Year didn’t answer, hands curled into fists in her lap; the claws she could finally grow out biting into her palms. The pain was clarifying, and even though she knew that James would scold her for it, the barely eighteen-year-old needed the anchor… and she had to punish herself somehow.

(She didn’t have the energy to follow protocol and think of him as “Headmaster Ironwood,” just then.) As the silence stretched, Winter began to rock back and forth in the chair she had claimed a week ago; it was between Gwenn’s bed and the wall, so the white-haired teen didn’t have her back to the hospital room’s door. Eventually, Winter spoke, gaze riveted to her best friend’s sleeping face — the only part of Gwenn (aside from her fluffy feline ears) that had been spared by the flames and destruction of the explosion, as well as the subsequent shattering of her Aura to keep Demeter alive. “…I am her Team Leader,” the taller feline managed, feeling more wretched than she had in at least a year — than she had since abandoning Weiss and Whitley.

“And I could not keep her safe.”

She hadn’t a clue where Macaria was, either.

[strawbrryrush]

closed starter for jake & ben !! @nightwhispcrs

"imma be so real- I didn't hear a thing you said- but I also haven't slept for-.. what is it 72 hours now? -i am seeing things a man shouldn't be seeing-which was kind of fun at first- now it's scary.. "

[sleep-0-deprived]

can i ask for the yan!roommate's reaction to the reader finding the camera in the bathroom and purposefully jacking off in front of it?

just found out about this blog and i am already hyped we need more subby yans in the world

Yandere roommate imagines (sub Yandere oc) ~!

A/N so the Yandere is just a random Oc you can imagine it as whoever I just needed a name for the fic! And you’re totally right there aren’t nearly enough sub Yandere as I’d like <33

Imagine you just got home from the gyms and all you wanna do is get into your shower you don’t have many other thoughts in your brain, you would have used the shower at the game but you have a “problem”~ between your legs and you knew you had to get home.

Imagine, you’re stripping your clothes cutting the hot water on as the mirror begins to fog up, your cock pressing to your stomach with precum oozing from the slit as you step in the shower running your fingers through your hair letting out a quiet grunt. You notice something from the corner of your eye when you’re looking up at the shower head, confused you reach for it picking it up you realize it’s a camera.

Imagine you already know who put the camera there I mean how could you not? There was only one man you knew creepy enough to wanna watch you shower and that was you’re roommate, and you know you felt a little generous you thought since you were already hard why not give him a show.

Imagine you sit the camera on a bath shelf and start speaking “I know you’re watching me Lucas” you grin as you bend down a little making sure your face was in full view as you use one hand to run down giving your pec a firm squeeze before gripping at your shaft giving one long stroke. On the other end of the camera Lucas sat in his room in the shared apartment nearly going feral when he sees your hand on your cock.

Imagine his face all red laying originally across his bed he soon gets up hurriedly trapping his laptop making sure the door was locked as he shakily grips the device for dear life feeling himself already aroused by the sight of you touching yourself, wanting nothing more than for your cock to be stuffed inside him as he rubs himself up against his matress letting out a few whines of desperation.

Imagine your hand holding your cock pointed straight at the camera giving him the perfect shot of your veins pulsing beneath your fingers while you bite at your bottom lip “didn’t know u had a total creep of a roommate, Lucas?~” you coo hazily standing in the shower the water running down your body down past your thighs with a few heaves meanwhile Lucas on the other hand wasn’t nearly as calm.

Imagine his hands fumbling with his zipper sitting the laptop on his bed as he pulls his boxers down placing the laptop on his pillows in front of his face as he drools, two fingers shoved between his lips with him laying on his stomach removing his fingers with them all coated in spit as he presses them to his rim pressing one finger in moving it in sync with your hand imagining it was your cock inside him as adrenaline fills his head making his body numb to the pleasure only becoming more infatuated with you each second as he murmurs out “y-es~” over and over.

Imagine when you cum you make sure your cock head is pointed directly at the camera lens, wanting him to see your red, angry looking tip when you climax. Your body tensing up intentionally not letting him see the face you make when you orgasm, only attempting to further tease your roommate with what he can’t seem to fully grasp hold of, which is you. “Hope you enjoyed my little show Lucas”

Imagine when Lucas sees that he’s in a whole other world of need, if he was feral before it was like he was a rabbit in the middle of heat because he pulled his hands away from himself with a little gasp while getting up not even bothering to turn his computer off, pouncing on you as soon as you make it to your bedroom with his brain all fuzzy and fast from your menacing taunts pulling your towel off.

Imagine your night ending with your roommate on top of you his thighs straddling you with his hands gripping your shoulders tightly mewling his lips all parted wide and his eyes half lidded and rolled back glossed over while he erratically lifts himself over and over again riding you harshly even when he feels like his rim is on fire from being stretched so long, you give his ass cheek a slap punching the ref handprint grumbling in his ear “this was what you wanted right?” As you hold his hip tightly grounding yourself deeper inside him pressing to his prostate roughly “then take it Lucas”

[cupcakeslushie]

Finished up some Kendratello AU sketches. Just because I killed off Kendra, doesn’t mean I’m done torturing Donnie.

I figure for the first week of his capture, Donnie could still differentiate between the VR world and the real world, but it got worse, the longer he’d go without a break. Then once he started getting less violent towards her, Kendra would start to play nice. Also imagine that helmet would have to cause some serious bruising and irritation.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i had to

[wvsteria]

@mvsicinthedvrk​: for antonia: 🐻 ---- What are some strange sleep patterns your muse has? Do they sleep a lot, too little, not at all? 

they nearly do not sleep at all. they may stare at a wall for hours until their body drifts off, but it’s never a deep, restful sleep. they’d been programmed to operate at any and all times whenever needed. so any sleep is easily interrupted. though antonia wouldn’t mind it. she’s gone through multiple days without sleep. it’s a hard habit to break. 

🐾🙀😻 — Animal themed headcanon prompts;

[signanothername]

[bjs-dumb-hat]

They eated too much

[bhaalborn]

" -what's wrong with me? " the TADPOLE, for one. the deranged, unbidden thoughts for two. and for the third- the absolute longest streak of shitty sleep that they've suffered through since embarking on this little adventure. they look at astarion- and imagine- wrapping their calloused hands around his pale, unprotected throat. SQUEEZING so hard that his puce eyes pop right out of his head. they're no longer imagining it, but seeing it, the hand-shaped bruises above his collarbone and the rivers of blood pouring down his face, his mouth forming the words, ' why, why, ẅ̶͈͜͠h̴̗̣̰̍͐̊̎y̸̧̠͈̝͑̔̒͒̓'. '

ulysses has stopped walking. that's new. their stomach roils and a SHUDDER runs right through them. there's an excess of sputum behind their teeth- nausea? hunger? they can't decide. they've never had- hallucinations before. thoughts of violence, yes, an overactive imagination, of course, things that they push down so far and deep they haven't spoken a WORD outside it aside from when they offhandedly alluded that alfira's death maybe hadn't been a moment of weakness in regards to their illithid passenger.

their brain SQUIRMS and ulysses reaches up to touch their undereye, as if the worm were mocking them for naivety.

" . . . many things, i think, " their gaze flickers towards the dirt. it's harmless, nothing there for them to hurt, and they refuse to raise their eyes, " but i'll see how long i can manage to keep upright- to save you the trouble, " they smile, all teeth, " my deadweight just might crush you, anyhow. i'd KEEP AN EYE on me, though. i'm feeling a little . . . " they make a nonsensical gesture with their hand, " . . . out of control. "

now, the underdark isn't what astarion had been angling for in terms of a roof over his head, but he certainly isn't suffering it's suffocating gloom quite like ulysses. there was no denying the place was ... strange, nothing resembled the couth civilisation he had grown accustomed to in baldur's gate. however, faint-worthy?

astarion stares up at them with profound disbelief. the spores that linger in the air around them are annoying in his periphery, but otherwise tolerable. while his companion looks to be their usual self, even he had noticed the shift in their behaviour.

“ no, and don't you dare. don't think i won't leave you face down in the dirt, ” he jabs a finger up at the dragonborn with a scowl. of course, he wouldn't actually leave but catch them? either they overestimated astarion's strength, or there was something in the spores that was seriously skewing their perception of reality.

“ what's wrong with you? is it the myconids? ” he sighs, only somewhat bothered that they're potentially going to have to abscond back into the depths of the underdark. as weird as the colony is, they're preferential to whatever mutated beast or combustible undergrowth awaited them out there. “ i'll be the first to say they're as weird as they are grotesque, but you may be overreacting just a little. ”