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sleepyfan-blog · 4 months ago

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Hunger and Thirst

Author's note: This is the second part of the Warp-cursed Guillilman fic. Original idea by @men-want-me-fish-fear-me. Masterlist is here.

tagged: @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @wolf-tail @men-want-me-fish-fear-me

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please ask

warnings: male lactation, non-consensual body modification via magic, discussions of medical experimentation, drinking questionable fluids, please ask me to tag something if I've missed it/something bothers you

summary: Four aspirants sniff out something delicious to drink. Afterwards, Asterios updates his gene-sire on the fallout of that.

“Do you smell that?” Mekanilus asked his best friend and Brother, leaning into the other boy’s slightly larger form, his body aching from the most recent surgery that he’d gone through. It was an honor beyond honors to be in training on Maccrage’s Honor, of course.. But still, the young aspirant hoped that one of the Medicae would come by to give them the all-clear so that he and Aklesius and the rest of their squad of Ultramarine-Aspirants would be allowed to go back to their shared barracks room to try and sleep off the worst of the surgery pains. If things followed according to the previous patterns, their physical training would be lighter until their surgical wounds healed…

But that meant that they would be drilled more ruthlessly on the logistical side of being an Ultramarine. How to fill out forms properly, different terms of address to the endlessly different kinds of nobles and other important kinds of officials within the Imperium. How to out-think one’s opponent and of course, how to uphold the honor of the Ultramarines, Ultramar and their Gene-sire.

“The burning-chemical smell? That’s the stuff that they use in order to keep this place clean.” Aklesius answered with a tired yawn, shrugging the shoulder that Mekanilus was leaning on “Oi! Don’t lean on me! I hurt everywhere too, and your additional weight makes me hurt more.”

“I know what that smell is. I’m talking about the new one. The sweet-creamy smell. Can’t you smell it? It smells like food and I’m so hungry…” Mekanilus grumbled, smelling the air again. His mouth was watering and he swallowed down his spit, his stomach grumbling loudly.

“What are yo- oh! I smell it too, now.” Aklesius answered, taking in a deep breath in through his nose. “Maybe it’s what we’re supposed to eat?”

“You mean the chalky tasting nutrient paste? That doesn’t have much of smell at all.” Jupitalin huffs, shaking his head a little.

“Maybe we’ve graduated to better tasting food rations, since we survived this round of surgeries?” Amik offers, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Hopefully. I wonder why the medicae suddenly ran off? It’s not like the emergency alarms went off, which would mean that the ship was under attack… and I don’t think anyone was scheduled to come back from a mission today…” Mekanilus sighed, yawning and stretching as much as his surgical wounds would safely allow before he stood up and followed his nose to the source of the wonderful scent, his squad-brothers following close behind him.

The four aspirants found themselves in one of the medical labs of Maccrage’s Honor. The source of the scent was some kind of milk, set on one of the counters in collection jars, for reasons none of the four aspirants could discern. It looked like regular grox-milk. It smelled better, though.

“Well, I dunno about you three, but I’m going to try it.” Mekanilus stated, walking across the lab and up to the collection jars. His hands were shaky from the painful surgery he had been out of for less than half a day, but not so shaky as to spill the bottled milk. It’s scent was even more intensely delicious when the lid of the bottle was off, and it’s sweet and hearty taste is easy for his pain-cramped stomach to hold. He drains half of the bottle before offering it to Amik, who is a step and a half behind him. “Here, try this. It tastes good and I’m already feeling better.” Some of the pain had gone away, and his breathing was already easier.

“... Are you sure that we’re supposed to drink this? It… There’s probably a reason why it’s in one of the medical labs.” Amik asked, staring at the milk in the jar, taking a small and cautious sip. His eyes lit up and he drank several large mouthfuls. “I changed my mind. This is really good!”

Aklesius has grabbed a second container of milk and drains half of it, before handing the rest over to Jupitalin as the other two talked. “Maybe it’s a new formulation of liquid rations? It reminds me of grox-milk.”

“Except Grox-milk tastes grassy. This tastes a lot better.” Jupitalin answered after taking three huge gulps to finish off the container. He put the lid back on and placed it back where Aklesius had taken it from. “Wow, whatever is in that stuff, I’m feeling a lot better. How are you three doing?”

“I’m feeling a lot better.” Amik answers, a broad grin appearing on his face. He over-stretches a little as he places the empty bottle back on the Astartes-sized counter… But finds that his stitches don’t ache in protest of the movement. In fact… His pain has faded almost entirely. “Like… A lot better.” He reaches up to cautiously prod at the surgical bandage, to see how his body would respond.

Before he can do so, however, Mekanilus gently grabbed his hand, stopping him from doing so “Hey, I know that I’m also feeling like no pain, but they told us not to go poking at our wounds while they heal. We should listen to them.”

“So you were listening, at least to part of what I told you. Did you forget that you were also told not to wander off from areas that you were explicitly told you were allowed in?” The Ultramarines chief apothecary rumbled, a small frown on his face. “What are you four doing in this lab?”

“We smelled something delicious, and since enough time passed after our surgeries that it was time for us to eat, and we were all really hungry, we found something to eat. Or… Err, drink, I suppose.” Aklesius answered, pointing to the two empty bottles of milk “We each had half of a container of that milk. It’s really good. The pain is almost gone and I’m full of energy - we all are. Sir!” He remembered to address the older Ultramarine as sir somewhat belatedly. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

“... You did what?” The chief apothecary asked, a flash of emotion crossing very quickly across his face before it went to a neutral frown once again. “Why would you drink something you found in a medical lab?”

Oh. Uhm. He kind of had a point there. “Because it looked and smelled like milk, sir? And I had a tiny taste before I drank half of it sir. It didn’t taste bad, nor did it trigger the poison eating gland so I figured it was safe to drink.” Mekanilus answered, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“... And all four of you drank half a container of this?” The chief apothecary asks, looking each of them up and down assessingly, icy gray eyes narrowing a little.

All four Aspirants nod “Yes sir.” They know better than to lie to a superior officer, even as uncertainty and worry begins to gnaw at each of them.

“Jamis, Meloc. I need you two in here now. Right. The four of you are going to come with me and will submit to a full physical exam. If you are dismissed, you are to report to the medical bay at the beginning of your next waking shift, and will do so every day until I instruct you otherwise.” The chief apothecary ordered, calling in two more of his fellow medical professionals. “The substance you consumed has… Comes from a unique source, but… Could potentially be very beneficial, if what the tests I have run on that substance hold true.”

“Yes sir…” Each of the four aspirants answered with an obedient nod, following after the chief apothecary, uncertainty pulling at their hearts.

“My liege, here are the results of the test that we have performed on the… Substance you’ve been able to produce for the past week. Additionally, These are the reports on the four Aspirants who got into the medical laboratory that held the liquid and each drank half a bottle of the substance.” Asterios reported to his Primarch, setting down the reports on the other’s desk.

Guilliman’s eyes looked up at him, from where he had been studying recent battlefield reports on the eastern front against the Tyranid fleet, along with the reports of Eldar raiders and T’au encroachment. One of his hands had come up to rub absent-mindedly at his aching chest. He was currently out of the Armor of fate - as its additional bulk and weight caused his nipples to constantly weep the warp-cursed substance into his body-glove, and while the recycling system within the armor dealt with the liquid in the same way it dealt with his normal bodily fluids… Guilliman had decided to instead wear more casual clothes. At least, while he was upon Maccrage’s Honor.

The Ultramarine blue toga was made of reinforced clothing that could withstand small to medium lasgun fire and every kind of bladed weapon available in the Imperium. But the cloth was much lighter against his aching chest, and its removal while he rid himself of the fluid that collected in his pectoral muscles was much, much easier than getting in and out of the chest plates of the armor of fate over a dozen times in a day.

“Thank you for the reports. I thought that the tentative trials on the effects of this… Substance with others was to start with the captive renegade astartes held in the brig, not with aspirants of the chapter?” Father asked as he set down the report he’d been reading through and reached out for the lab results.

“As I mentioned earlier, sir. Four aspirants snuck into the laboratory that held some of the fluid you’ve been secreting. They apparently could smell the scent of the fluid and were drawn to it, my lord.” Asterios explains, keenly aware of the fact that his gene-sire was juggling much and may not have caught all of what he had said the first time that he had said it. “And as you can see, based on the results so far… The… Ah… Substance has high nourishing factors for Aspirants. Based on not only how the four aspirants were fairing before they consumed the… Substance, and after, along with how they compare to their peers, after they have been taking the substance for several weeks.”

“... I see. Have there been any signs that the substance potentially weakens the mind or will to the effects of Warp or The Arch-Enemy? Do they show any increased risks for potential mutations?” Guilliman asked. He remembered better the… Encounter he had with the entity that had gifted him with the ability to create breast milk in the first place.

Roboute found himself in a light and airy temple. Beautifully painted frescos depicting scenes of life, birth and the creation of such for animals, plants and humans scrolled across the walls. Despite the graphic nature of the artistry, it was surprisingly tasteful. Sunlight, golden and warm shone through the colored glass on the eastern side of the temple.

Flowers of every type and description grew in carefully maintained planters that surrounded the circular antechamber that Roboute found himself on the outer edges of. In the middle of the large room was a tall, radiant figure whose face was obscured by the burning golden sun behind them.

He did not know how he came to this place, and the air had a thick, not-quite-there quality to it that his dreams… And occasional visions of places that never quite were, or once had been did. The being in front of him shone with a lavender-pink light.

The lord-commander of the Imperium cleared his throat and asked “Where am I? Who are you? Why have I been brought here?”

“Peace, Son of Anathema. I mean you no harm, nor your sons, nor the mortals aiding you. You did me a tremendous kindness, by routing the ever-hungering swarm from the worlds I care for. You work so tirelessly, and have so many children to care for. I cannot do much, but I give you a small gift. The ability to feed the many sons you care for.” The Lavender-pink entity murmured, walking towards Guilliman.

“And if I refuse this gift?” The Regent asked, taking a half-step backwards before viridian vines bound his feet and legs in place, his arms locked behind his body.

“Come now. I can see into your hearts. You dearly, desperately wish to provide for those whom you love. To eventually live a life of peace and prosperity. While I cannot grant you that, I can grant you a measure of ability to nourish and strengthen your many sons.” The being murmured, their voice a sweet-hypnotizing choir of birds and bells. They reach out and touch his forehead in benediction, even as the ever-burning golden sun flares bright and hot, searing some of the outermost plants.

The entity sighs, shaking it’s veiled face “Your Father is quite possessive, Son of Anathema. But as I do not seek to harm or kill you, He cannot reach me in the seat of my power. This blessing I bestow upon you, Roboute Guilliman, Thirteenth son of Neoth. Of Humanity. Go forth and feed your children.”

He had blinked and found himself again in the ruins of the world that he had been fighting with his sons by his side and the astra millitarum supporting them. He had thought it a hallucination, or a brief, waking dream as he had been waiting for a report and had closed his eyes for a couple of moments to center himself as the last of the Tyranids had been killed and burned.

Roboute was… Fairly certain that had actually happened, given the sheer volume of fluid he was creating. While not enough to feed every single Astartes who claimed to be of his gene-line, he had filled enough containers to have roughly three gallons of the fluid available for consumption every day, since the fluid had started to leave his body. The primarch hoped that the fluid volume would not increase, as his chest and nipples already ached quite a bit as it was.

“I see. Please continue to monitor the four aspirants along with the rest of their cohort. If it proves that this… Fluid does continue to have such a marked positive effect upon them. I…” Guilliman sighed. It felt ridiculous to say outside, but if these results held true, he couldn’t ignore how useful the substance would be in lowering the rates of surgical rejection and mortality rates of aspirants “May authorize wider-spread use of the fluid in assisting the Aspirants, at least in the days following their surgeries, to better increase the odds of successful implantation and integration of the new organs and glands into their bodies during the process of becoming an Astartes.”

“... If I may speak frankly, my lord?” Asterios asked, waiting patiently for his lord father’s response.

“Yes, you may.” Father responded with a small wave of his hand.

“I feel that to do a proper study, more aspirants would need to be put on the warp-enhanced breast milk, sire. That way we would have a larger sample size, as four individuals is not nearly a large enough for a proper medical study for a substance like this.” Asterios paused for a couple of moments, steeling himself before charging onwards. Courage and honor. Even as his Primarch watched him with an inscrutable face and Sicarius vibrated silently at his left shoulder “I would also recommend we send samples off to close allied non-Guilliman line Marines for study in how their aspirants respond to the fluid as well, if possible. I would not inform them of… Of the precise origin of the fluid of course. Merely that it is an experimental supplement to be used in testing to see if it is beneficial to aspirants during their transition to Astartes, my lord.”

“... While your suggestion has merit, I am unsure if there will be enough to do a full medical study for multiple chapters of astartes. I am… Also concerned that… As this… Ability to produce breast milk was forced upon me by a Warp Entity, that there may be… Darker or Chaotic long-term effects that off-set the short-term positive benefits that we are currently beginning to see.” Roboute answered after several long moments of contemplation “There is also the fact that none of us are certain how long the breast milk can last before it sours. Or if it is Warp-touched to the point where it cannot be affected by normal bacteria. Which would raise other concerns.”

“As you say, my lord. Do I have your permission to do a study on our own aspirants, my lord? I will ensure that all proper safety protocols will be followed and ensure that they are monitored spiritually by both a chaplain and one of the Librarius.” Asterios asked, waiting patiently for a response.

“... You do.” Guilliman answered, sighing internally. If the warp-milk truly could do what the initial results were saying it could… It would lower the rejection and death rates of Aspirants significantly… At least for those of his own gene-line.

“Thank you, my lord. I will send you weekly updates on how the participants of the study are doing, until they become full battle brothers. Or their autopsy reports, should they fail the process, my lord.” Asterios murmured, saluting his gense-sire. He paused to pick up the filled containers of warp-milk at the edge of the room before leaving. He would ensure that it would be a double-blind medical study for the aspirants involved, to hopefully not skew the data one way or the other.

#my writing #warhammer 40k #roboute guilliman #ultramarines #ultramarine aspirants #cw male lactation #cw non-con body modification via magic #cw discussions of medical experimentation #cw drinking questionable fluids

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nanda-writes · 11 months ago

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Paternity Test

“I think my dad is a demon.”

“Not unheard of.” Carlos, the exchange demonology student, replied.

Liz frowned.

“I'm serious. My mom never talks about him and now there's this weird… spirit thing, following me.”

“Do you feel hot?”

“What?”

“Hot, angry, headaches, skin reddening?”

“No?”

“No signs of a hellspawn then, you're clear.”

“Come on Carlinhos, help me here, you're the only one from that weird magic uni I know.”

Carlos sighed.

“Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It all started 3 months ago.”

I had just arrived home from school. Mother sent me a message saying she wouldn't be home but lunch was in the fridge. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw Mom in the kitchen, frying rice. (my favorite!)

When she noticed me walking in she turned to me with the brightest smile I ever saw on her face. She rushed me to the table saying I should eat my lunch before going to work. And that's when I started to notice some weird stuff.

First of all, her fried rice didn't taste the same. It wasn't bad, but it didn't taste like mom's fried rice.

Second, she would not eat with me, just… stare. It freaked me out. She kept smiling while looking at me, and when I asked if she was going to eat she said:

“Oh no, human food give me stomach aches.”

She said that with a straight face, I didn't know whether to believe she was joking or not.

Once I finished my food she stood up and gently held me by my shoulders. With tears in her eyes she said:

“My daughter, my beautiful daughter.”

Do I need to say that's not something my mother does regularly? She continued:

“I missed you so much.”

And kissed me on the forehead.

It was at that moment I heard the entrance door being unlocked and the distinct voice of my mother saying:

“I'm back early sweety, did you eat already?”

My “mom” froze.

When my real mom finally reached the kitchen, they stared at each other for a moment.

“You again?!” My real mom yelled, throwing the shopping bags on the floor “I told you to leave us alone! Get away! Go! Go!”

She was slapping my “other mom” in the back and rushing her out of the house. I remember the pitiful look on my other mom’s face, she was silent as she left the house.

When I, rightfully, asked my actual mother what the hell just happened, she said we should talk after my shift, so I went to work. When I got home that day, she simply acted like nothing ever happened! She's gaslighting me to this day!

***

“Oh!” Carlos interrupted “Was it that day? The one you were so tired you thought your hand was turning gray while working the coffee machine?”

“Yeah”

“Hm…” he squinted his eyes at her “Crazy, sorry, go on”

***

And then I started to notice weird stuff happening.

First, suddenly I noticed a strange aura on the snake that always follows me around…

***

“Wait, wait, sorry again, the hell you mean the snake that follows you around? Are there even snakes in this region?! Isn't Ireland a snake free country?”

“Yeah, I didn't notice at first, there were plenty of snakes in my hometown, I hadn't realized they weren't common here.”

“And you were not worried that a specific snake followed you around?”

“It wasn't a venomous one, it's a milk snake, cute, like a pet.”

“Holy Shit.”

“Can I?”

“Yeah sure, go ahead.”

“Okay so…”

***

There was this weird aura around it.

Out of nowhere the snake tried to curl around my leg so I grabbed it gently, I looked at its face and I shit you not — I recognized it! The way its mouth stood… it looked like it was smiling, the same smile my “other mother” had at that time!

No need to say I dropped the snake and ran away.

Three days later my math teacher started acting weird as well. You know, don't you? Mr. Walker hates my guts! But suddenly he was being very nice to me. He wouldn't complain about my lateness anymore nor scold me for sleeping in his class. A sudden change of heart was weird but I wasn't complaining. Until I noticed.

His smile. He would always smile at me, with the same smile.

The same as the other mother. The same as the snake.

I wasn't having it.

After school, I cornered him in the parking lot.

“Who are you and what did you do with Mr. Walker?!”

He looked surprised for a moment.

“What do you mean, Miss Ferreira? I'm Mr. Walker.”

“No, you're not.” I rebuked “Mr. Walker can't pronounce my last name for shit. You're not him. What did you do?”

He smiled. The same sly snake-like grin.

“I believe we should discuss this in a place a bit more… private.”

“I'm not going to your fucking second location, you weirdo.” God knows what he had done to Mr. Walker. I wasn't risking it. I watch true crime documentaries, I'm not dumb.

He looked genuinely hurt. Maybe I was being rude. But fuck politeness.

“Maybe you could… choose a place and time? So we can discuss it properly. I swear your teacher is fine.”

He looked pathetic at this point. I was starting to feel bad.

“Okay…” I said and gave him a place and time.

***

We met at a diner. It wasn't late, I had just gotten off work. The sky was gleaming orange on the horizon, streets busy with workers heading home. It was fine. I was fine. I was not nervous. Not a bit.

I wiped the sweat out off my hands as I waited for him.

He showed up. At the exact time we planned. He had the same big smile on his face, it felt… silly.

“I'm glad you chose a more isolated seat,” he said to me and winked, “Let me show you a trick.”

And then the man wearing Mr. Walker's skin suddenly wasn't anymore.

I'll spare you the details of the transformation, but you know how snakes shed their skin? Yeah. That's what happened.

The new… person in front of me was very pale, although their skin had red and black spots all over, very androgynous also, and very lanky. Their hair and eyes were black as the night sky, I could not see their pupils, but I was sure they were slits and I just knew that if I touched their skin it would be cold and damp. The smile was the same though. It felt… comforting, for some reason.

I was shocked of course. And disgusted. Not by their appearance but the “trick” was nauseating to watch.

They grabbed my hands. As I expected, cold and damp.

“Lizzzzz…” they said “I know this is weird, but it's been 17 years and you need to know the truth.”

My mouth dropped to the floor as he said:

“I am your father.”

***

18 years ago, Maria, my mother was living in the Bahian Caatinga. She lived a simple life. Not so good, not so bad. Her parents wanted her to have a good education, so she went to the capital to study biology in college.

Mother had a special interest. Growing up in the caatinga she was used to seeing and handling a fair share of regional snakes. But what most people thought as just a regular inconvenience was her deepest passion.

She loved snakes and would never let her father kill the ones that sometimes sought shelter in her house. She would always hold them carefully and release them back to the wild, leaving the old man to pout and rant “They'll just keep coming back!”.

And that's cute, right? I'm all for helping the local species but… it caused her to receive some… unusual attention.

Suddenly, — no matter where she went — there would always be a snake around. She didn't notice at first, after all, what are the chances? But it was the same snake every time. A male milk snake, very common in the area but, That's weird… she thought, yet, what could she do? Even if she was superstitious, wouldn't that be a good sign anyways?

She got used to it eventually. And everything was normal. At least until St. John's day.

It was during the June holidays. Her village was going all out for the festivities that year: colorful banderoles from pole to pole, stands of all types in the street, the laughter of the children in their costumes filling the air together with the winter smells of corn, peanut, stews and alcohol brought by the cold breeze, the music never stopped, from the sanfoneiros at the plaza to the home speakers blasting all genres of music.

It was night, but the village shone as if the sun had never set.

It was during the festivities that a strange man, who later claimed to be called Conrado, approached her.

Extending his hand he said:

“Care for a danssssssce?”

Oh, he must be nervous, Mom thought, how adorable. And took his hand.

The dancing leads to flirting, and that leads to kissing, and kissing leads to… well, you know.

He promised to go see her the next day, at the cathedral by morning. She accepted, of course, after all, she had to explain that she had a boyfriend in the city… oopsies. But when she went there… there was no man, only that same snake that always followed her around.

And that was when he realized, and oh boy was she pissed.

Seriously? A snake demon?! A STALKER SNAKE DEMON?!

The snake did its best to be understood, to explain itself. But it could not talk, so I guess it didn't work.

What made Mom angrier was the fact that she didn't get her period the month later… neither the next month, nor the nine months that came after. And then I was born.

Years later, when I was… uh… five? she moved to Ireland — the only place with no snakes she could think of — to further her education, claiming I would also be safer here.

It took a while for “Conrado” to find us, most specifically, me. But he is very happy he did. He's been watching over me ever since.

***

“Wait, you said she had a boyfriend back in the city?” I asked.

“Hm? Yessssssss… I didn't mind though…”

“That means I could also be his daughter.”

He gave me a sad look.

“Yessssss but, I feel you aren't…” He looked even sadder. “But you musssst have notisssssssed, right…? That you are different.”

“No. I didn't.”

Was my skin a little weird? Yes, but I'm a teenager. Do I have some speech impediments related to s and z sounds? Yeah, but lots of people have it too! Was my sense of smell stronger? Yeah, but that's not out of this world. Was I a bit stronger than normal for my build? Yeah, well actually no, y’all are just a bunch of wimps.

He looked at me with the saddest expression I ever saw on a man, he looked… pathetic. Exactly my mom's type, that I can't deny.

“Okay, then…” he sighed, “but if you notice something… anything, you can call me, alright? I'm staying in the woods next to your house, just scream into a tree and I'll find you.”

He was about to leave, but then realized something and turned back to me.

“Also, take this,” he handed me a rock with a hole in the middle “You might not be my daughter, but I still want Maria's kid to be safe.” aw

And he left.

***

“And that’s it.” Liz finished her story with a sigh. “He can’t be my real dad, right? I would have noticed it…”

“Liz,” Carlos said in a deep voice “Did you notice that you didn’t blink a single time in this conversation?”

“What?”

“And that your hands and arms have camouflaged themselves on the table?”

“What?!” Liz looked down and sure thing, the color of her hands was completely changed, blending in with the table. Liz's mouth was on the floor.

“Also, everyone thinks I am enrolled at a regular university, no “weird magic uni”, for the institution is spell protected.”

Liz was flabbergasted “Then how? I…?”

“Only special humans or magical beings are able to know the truth about the university.”

“...”

“You should call your dad.” Carlos said “Also, you're almost finishing high school, right? I think you'll be getting an email soon…’’

“I… don't I need to apply first?’’

“The mystic arts university works differently, it's more like they come for you, no application needed.”

“I… I'll get going.” Liz stumbled.

Needless to say, a certain snake was very happy that evening. And feelings aside, Liz could not help to feel relieved to have a uni waiting for her already, admission exams were such a pain in the—.

#original #mystical uni shenanigans #writeblr #writing

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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 years ago

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A New Beginning #19: Food

Masterlist | AO3

Content: Blood (for the sake of feeding), injuries/wounds (for the sake of feeding), begging, starvation, forced feeding (kinda?), vampire whumpee.

Ryker is seven in the first section and 15 in the second, but no actual whump appears for him :) Feel free to ignore this chapter if that's not for you.

“...You drink blood, right?”

Carlos glanced over at Ryker from his spot on the floor. He’d be lying if he said the question hadn’t taken him aback a little, particularly coming from a seven year old. The boy, however, seemed unphased by the topic, draped over the side of his bed with his favourite squishy toy in his hand.

Eventually, the vampire settled on a tentative nod. “Vampires drink blood, yes. Does… that scare you?”

“No!” Ryker rushed to assure him, and Carlos was not above admitting that the small tightness in the pit of his stomach released itself the moment he said it. “‘m not scared. I just- I never see Mom or Dad give you any blood, ‘n’ that makes me sad because you deserve to eat like the rest of us.”

“You shouldn’t be sad,” Carlos quietly protested. As sat up and struggled to cross his legs beneath himself, Ryker climbed off the bed and rushed to sit on his lap. “Did you know that vampires are also immortal?”

He heard a small gasp. “Really? That means you can’t die, right?”

“Mmmhm.” Carlos let his chin come to rest on the boy’s head as he leaned back against his chest and dropped his toy to play with the vampire’s long, lanky fingers. “Blood is optional for us. We… we could go forever without eating if we wanted, but it doesn’t feel very nice.”

The boy tilted his chin up so they were looking at each other. “What does it feel like?”

“Have you ever gone a long time without eating? Does your tummy ever start to hurt when that happens?”

Ryker responded with a nod.

“Well, that’s what it feels like for us.”

For a moment, everything was silent. Ryker continued to fiddle with Carlos’ hands and was obviously pondering the information that had been given to him. Carlos was curious as to why it had suddenly become a topic of interest.

“Would you like some of the blood that’s inside me?” the child offered after some time. His voice had gone quiet and he still had his eyes trained up on the vampire, curious to hear his response. He looked as if it was just the first solution that he could think of, not something he’d fully considered. “I don’t want your tummy to hurt all the time, ‘n’ I have plenty o’ blood to go around!”

Much to his own surprise, Carlos’ response was instant and firm. “No.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not your problem to worry about,” the vampire shook his head. He tightened his grip around Ryker’s waist and offered him a strained smile, ignoring the sudden aching in stomach as he thought about what it would feel like to finally sate his hunger for the first time in years. There were a time where he would have done anything for even the tiniest drop of blood. However, as he looked down at his small friend, he realised that would now be a lie.

“...I’ll survive without it.”

Truth be told, the child looked as if he wanted to protest more. Carlos felt guilty, looking down at his saddened face as he struggled to understand why he wouldn’t accept his help.

No matter how guilty he felt, however, he was confident in his answer. Ryker was off limits to himself or anyone else, and he’d make sure every vampire in the state knew it if that’s what it took.

“Okay,” he eventually mumbled.

Though he tried, Carlos couldn’t resist asking as he watched the boy shut his eyes and lean further into him. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he shook his head, and after some wriggling he stood up and wrapped his small arms around the vampire’s neck. Carlos didn’t hesitate to hug him back. “Not mad at’chu.”

Carlos gave a rare smile. A small but genuine one that was hidden against Ryker’s shoulder as they hugged. He knew he didn’t deserve such kindness. Not from Ryker, not from anyone.

That didn’t change how nice and warm it made him feel inside when he was treated like an equal.

Despite Carlos’ initial refusal, Ryker continued to offer as the years went by. Every couple of months, they’d have the same conversation over and over again, and with each conversation the answer was always the same.

“I can survive without it. It’s okay.”

It was the only thing Carlos was determined to say no to, no matter how much the human insisted and how many disagreements they got into as Ryker got older and more aware of how much his friend was suffering.

Sometime around Ryker’s fifteenth birthday, however, the boy began to notice Carlos struggling more and more with everyday tasks. He was struggling to even get out of his pet bed at times and couldn’t clean or do anything Ryker’s parents expected him to do, which inevitably resulted in punishments the vampire didn’t deserve.

Ryker was sick of it.

It was late one evening when he finally managed to find time to drain some blood into a cup. An extensive amount of research had been done behind his parents’ and Carlos’ back over the past several days, and he was hoping that with the blood already there and ready, Carlos would see no reason not to accept it.

Once it was done, he covered up the wound with a bandage and pulled his sleeve down before sneaking off to find the vampire while his parents watched a movie in the living room. Really, the only risk that came with doing this was knowing there was a chance that his parents might find out. They were so unbelievably against feeding their poor vampire, and they certainly wouldn’t be happy knowing their own son was the culprit.

It came as no surprise to him when he finally found Carlos passed out on the bathroom floor after being told to scrub the bottom of the shower. He carefully placed the cup of blood down on the edge of the sink and helped the vampire to sit up straight again, letting him lean on his shoulder for support.

For a moment, he wasn’t even sure whether he’d actually passed out or if he’d just fallen asleep until Carlos managed to force his eyes open for just a moment to see what was going on around him.

“Hey,” the human greeted quietly. “‘s okay. Just me. Sit up and lean against the cabinet for me, please.”

There was a small whimper as the vampire tried to obey. “‘m sorry,” he whispered, shakily slumping against the cabinet doors as Ryker reached up to grab the cup. “Pl’se forgive me.”

“I’m not Mom and Dad,” Ryker gently reminded him. He pressed a hand to Carlos’ chest to hold him there and used to other to manoeuvre the cup closer to his lips. “Listen, I need you to drink this, okay?”

There was a quiet protest. Pale, bony hands reached out to push the cup away from his face, but Ryker had the upper hand this time.

“Drink it,” he repeated, firmer than before as he pushed the vampire’s hands down with his free hand and tilted the cup upwards just enough for a trickle to slip its way past Carlos’ chapped lips. He wasn’t surprised to see that the small drop was enough to send the vampire into a craze. Before too long, Carlos had taken the cup into his own shaky grip and downed the entire thing, a few drops dripping down the sides of his face and along his neck.

With a small frown, Ryker used a damp face cloth to wipe his neck down before his parents saw.

“It’s okay,” he whispered the moment he saw Carlos start to cry. “I made this decision on my own. You don’t need to feel bad. How- how do you feel?”

The vampire handed the cup back to him the moment he was done licking the last of the contents out of the cup. “Better. Tha-ank you. Thank you. I haven’t- haven’t felt this full in so long.”

Ryker offered a smile and placed the cup back on the sink, running a hand up and down Carlos’ shoulder. A part of him wanted to apologise for forcing him into drinking it, but after seeing how much better he looked already, he figured it’d been worth it.

“Good. Consider me feeding you a ‘thank you’ for all the things you do for me, okay?”

Much to his delight, Carlos didn’t protest this time. He simply nodded and slumped back against the cabinet again, seemingly just enjoying the moment of relief from the constant pain in his stomach.

He’d have to do this more often, Ryker realised. Carlos didn’t deserve to go hungry every night.

@alexkolax @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @whump-things @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @choppedflowermuffinchild @whumpdreamz

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump tropes #whump ideas #whump scenarios #vampire whumpee

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blackhakumen · 11 months ago

Text

Mini Fanfic #1183: The Ex King and The Glamorous Succubus (Super Smash Bros Ultimate X Darkstalkers)

9:34 a.m. at the Smash Town.......

Cloud: (Yawns a Bit While Driving a Silver Segway on the Sidewalk) Okay, It's not nearly fast as Fenrir back home, but I don't mind it honestly. This is nice. (Turns to his Passanger Behind Him) You enjoying the ride back there, Tif?

Tifa: (Playful Salutes to Cloud While Holding onto Him From Behind) Indeed I am, Captain Handsome!~

Cloud: ('Groans a Bit') You mind not calling me that throughout this trip?

Tifa: (Starts Pouting) And why not? You are the captain of this joyride, you know? (Leans Over to Close With a Very Seductive Smirk on her Face) And a very dashing looking one at that~ (Gives Cloud a Kiss on the Cheek)

Cloud: (Gently Boops at Tifa's Nose) Hey-ey-ey, hey, no cute, loving affections until this ride is over. (Turns Back to the Sidewalk Road) You'll distract the driver if you keep doing that.

Tifa: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fiiiine, I'll put it on hold for now. (Playfully Pokes on Cloud's Cheek) Just know that you now owe me a lot of kisses after this, mister.

Cloud: (Playfully Rolls his Eyes a Bit) Don't worry. I won't forget.

Tifa: Better not. Though, I gotta ask: What made you wanna take drive us around on your segway in the first place?

Cliud: (Simply Shrugs) I never got the chance to test drive this thing since De gave it to me for Christmas back at New Donk City months ago, so I figured now would be an opportunity to do. Also, I....(Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth While Blushing) Brought you here with me cause.....I want or whatever.

Tifa: (Smirks Again) And because you love me?~

Cloud: ('Sighs in Defeat') And because I love you......

?????: Cloud! Tifa!

Cloud stops driving his segway as he and Tifa both look up to see the Former King of Dreamland, Dedede, calling for them while pushing his custom Wheelie Cycle in front of them.

Dedede: What y'all doing out here?

Tifa: (Smiles Brightly at Dedede) Morning, De!~ Cloud was taking me on a morning joyride~

Dedede: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) On a segway??

Cloud: Yep. Figured I finally take it for a spin for the day. Liking it so far by the way.

Dedede: (Smiles Brightly) Heh-Hey, my man! That's good to hear! I'm glad y'all having better luck out here than I am right now, that's for sure.

Cloud: (Raises an Eyebrow in a Bit of Confusion) Why you say that?

Tifa: (Starts Getting A Tad Bit Concerned) Did your Wheelie broke down or something?

Dedede: ('Sighs Heavily') Yeah, it did......And right at in the MIDDLE of the damn road too! I was....(Points Cloud and Tifa Forward) Alllllllll the way over there when it first happened, had to run for my life the moment I saw traffic coming in from all sides. Now look at me: my feet is aching, I'm all sweaty and tired....(Starts Hearing his Stomach Growling) And now I'm hungry. Right on cue too.

Cloud: Not for long. (Points Dedede to a Breakfast Dine-In in Front of the Three of Them)

Dedede: ('Sighs in Pure Relief') Oh thank you Lady Palutena, I don't have to search all around town.....(Grabs his Chin While Thinking) But do I have enough money for it though?

Tifa: Mind if we tag along and pay it with you?

Cloud: (Turns Back to Tifa) You wanna eat already?

Tifa: (Turns to Cloud) I feel like now would be the perfect to do so, you know? Plus, I'm pretty sure you need to eat the most considering all the driving you did.

Cloud: (Crosses his Arms) Pass. I don't get hungry as easily as you two- (Eyes Widened as He Suddenly Hears his Stomach Growling Very Loudly)

Tifa: (Giggles Softly)

Dedede: (Raises an Eyebrow While Smirking) You were sayin'?

Cloud: (Sighs While Facepalming Himself) Let's just go in the damn dine-in already......

Minutes Later at the Breakfast Dine-In.......

Dedede: Man...(Starts Eating his Food While Speaking) I dunno what y'all are about. ('Mm.') I can look after myself just fine!

Cloud: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face While Sitting Next to Tifa in their Table) Quit talking with your mouthful, De.....

Tifa: (Already Has. Worried Yet Firm Glare on her Face) We know you can take of yourself, your majesty. Truly. But you can't be too careless around that Morrigan chick. Not even for a millisecond!

Dedede: Okay, now you're being little dramatic. (Finally Swallows the Food He Was Eating) Y'all seem to like her little sister just fine.

Cloud: That's because we got to know her more in person as more time passes. We barely met the woman and the only thing we know about so far is that she uses her charms to take advantage of any new prey she encounters.

?????: Ohhh my!~ (Giggles Softly)

Cloud: ('Sigh') And speaking of which.......

The trio turn their attention towards a waitress with long, teal hair walking towards their table while swaying her hips from side to side.

??????: Are those three familiar faces I see before me?~ (Smirks Very Seductively at Dedede in Particular) And a very handsome former king happens to be one of them?~

Dedede: (Immediately Recognizes the Woman in Front of Him) Morrigan! (Clears his Throat Before Taking Off his Helmet and Flips his Hair Around Before Smirking Back at the Succubus) 'Sup, baby. Didn't know you were working here.

Morrigan: Yes, it's one of my many part-time jobs I've been taking as of late. The trips to runway shows aren't exactly cheap, you know? What brings you here in this fine establishment?~

Dedede: Oh you know? Just having breakfast with pals, chattin', thinking about you- (Immediately Corrects Himself) I-I-I mean! Thinking about how.....good you look in that.....waitress dress of....yours? (Forms an Awkward Grin on his Face)

Cloud: Smooth.

Morrigan: (Giggles Some More) Ohohohoho my!~ You are such a sweethearted man, dear~ I thought about you as well.

Dedede: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprise) about have?

Cloud/Tifa: (Equally as Surprised as Dedede) You have?

Morrigan: (Happily Nodded) That's right~ I had a nice time talking to you at the mall on that night. It was such a shame that it was cut so short at the time.

Dedede: (Starts Rubbing The Back of his Head Back and Forth) Yeah, sorry about that. Had to continue lookin' out for the family and whatnot.

Morrigan: That's quite alright, dear. Family is most important in the globe after all. (Starts Writing Something Down on her Pad) Though, I do hope we could make up for loss times one of these days. (Rip a Paper Out and Give it To Dedede)

Dedede: (Looks Down at the Paper in Front of Him) Wait a second......(Eyes Widened at the Realization) You're giving me your phone number!?

Tifa: ('Gasps')

Cloud: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Shock) Holy shit.

Morrigan: (Giggles Some More) Goodness!~ Is it really that surprising that I'm giving you my number?~

Dedede: Considering my long, embarrassing history in the dating scene, I'mma hafta say so, woman!

Morrigan: (Giggles Yet Again) Well, surprise!~ I want to know more about you, your majesty-

From the Back: OI! WAITRESS! FOOD'S READY TO BE SERVED!!!

Morrigan: ('Sigh') Atlas....It seems our lovely chit-chat will have to be cut short. Again.

Dedede: You want me to write my number to you just in case?

Morrigan: No need. I'm already wasting enough time as it is. (Smiles Softly) But please, do text me once my shaft is over in the afternoon. I'll be sure to give you my much needed attention soon enough~ (Makes a Kiss Sound Before Leaving and Waving Goodbye to Dedede) Cio, for now, Former King Dedede~ Ohohohohohoho!~

Dedede looks back at the paper: the very first time he has ever received a phone number from a very pretty lady, since......forever. The offer was so amazing that it causes him to form a big Grin on his face and start laughing wholeheartedly until....

'A-HEM'

The former king turns to see the couple in front of him. One his pouting at him and the other still has a deadpinned look on his face.

Dedede: Y'all still worried about me, aren't ya?

Cloud: I'm more surprised if anything. And slightly proud of you, actually- (Felt Tifa's Bumping His) But yeah. We're still worried.

Tifa: (Simply Nodded) Mmhmm.

Dedede: (Sighs Before Placing his Hand on his Chest While Raising the Other One Up) Look, I promise and swear that I'll be cautious around her going forward

Tifa: (Pulls Out her Pinky) Pinky Promise?

Dedede: Girl, I don't have a pinky. (Takes Off his Glove, Revealing his Fingerless Hand) See?

Tifa: Oh. Right. Well.....We'll just form a promise hug and it could NEVER be broken. Ever. Cloud, get in on this too. This is group effort.

Cloud: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fiiine......Bring it in. (Gets Pulled into a Group Hug Before Noticing Something Outside) Uhh....De. Don't panic, but......It looks like your Wheelie is getting towed away.

Dedede: WHAT!?

Dedede immediately got up from his seat and rushes himself out the door with Cloud abd Tifa following behind.

'Door Opens'

Dedede: NOOOOO! (Got Down on his Knees and Watches in Despair as his One and Only Wheelie is Being Towed Away) I was going to fix it all over again too damnit!! Now, how else am I gonna get home!?

Tifa: Welllllllll

Eventually..............

Cloud: (Sighs While Driving the Segway Very Slowly Now that Dedede is Riding on Tifa's Shoulders) Not the outcome I was expecting, but whatever.

Dedede: (Looks Down at Tifa) You sure I ain't too heavy on ya, Tif?

Tifa: (Smiles at Dedede Reassuring) Positive. I have carried lots of heavier stuff on my shoulders the past after all. Though, I do hope you know that this means that you will have to come back to our training session starting this week, right?

Dedede: ('Sigh') Yeah, I know.

@bestpony666

@cyber-wildcat

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

@caleb13frede

@theweebmaster31

#super smash ultimate #darkstalkers #final fantasy 7 #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #king dedede #morrigan aensland #segway ride #cute romance #humor #fluff #cloud x tifa #dedede x morrigan (?)#edited

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the-brainrot-central · 1 year ago

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Headcanon's for mpreg Kira who doesn't even know he's pregnant? 👀

OOOOOHHHH GOOD ONE ANON

I’m so so so so SO very sorry it took me this long to answer but here:

For one, I think he’d notice he’s a little moodier and more aggressive than usual, probably snaps at his coworkers without meaning to and thinks “shit what’s wrong with me? I’m usually more in control of my reactions…I guess I’m just sick or vitamin deficient”

His back aches a little bit but he doesn’t think much of it

He REALLY starts to think something’s off, however, when he eats a St. Gentlemen’s sandwich and gets violently ill afterwards—-they’re his favorite! Dude doesn’t really eat much else, so he’s really upset that he’s grown averse to one of his only safe foods, not to mention it fucks with his routine too—now he’ll have to find something else to eat for every lunch.

OOOH imagine if the smell of his “girlfriends” suddenly becomes overwhelmingly strong…not the decay, but the chemically formaldehyde smell. As where he used to not mind at all, now he doesn’t bring them out of the fridge as much because the smell alone is enough to spoil his appetite and, at worst, make him throw up

One day, when he’s in the shower, he notices his belly is a little…rounder than it used to be, though not by much. He’s a little worried by this, and decides to start working out four times a week instead of two, do stomach crunches, and to cut back on sugar intake, because surely it’s just weight gain…right?

I imagine Killer Queen would somehow know before he does—it’s got this “sixth sense” almost, a sort of eerie intuition about its user; it can tell he’s contracted an illness before Kira himself even feels sick. It doesn’t know exactly that he’s pregnant, per se, but it smells something….fishy about him. His stand smells a sudden, weird shift in his hormones come about (I like to think Killer Queen has lots of cat-like traits as well as the bomb stuff—-heightened smell and hearing, aversion to loud noise, licking its paws and grooming etc).

Killer Queen starts manifesting more of its own accord and “investigating” kira—giving him the “sniff down,” like when your dog knows you’ve been out petting other animals, and it rubs its face up against his stomach sometimes, because it can feel a sort of unusual energy radiating from that zone. Kira finds it a little strange but doesn’t mind—his stand has been affectionate and physical before, so he assumes it’s just typical behavior

Eventually, after the first trimester, Killer Queen starts feeling the baby within itself, too, in a weird way—like a sort of presence in its body. Sometimes Kira will find Queen just holding its stomach gently, rubbing it back and forth, it’s head tilted curiously and it’s eyes attentive. He’s…a little weirded out by this behavior, and doesn’t really know what to make of it.

Unfortunately, he can’t really directly “communicate” with his stand (and he usually has no real need to, in the first place—it’s an extension of himself, so their thoughts and feelings are pretty in touch with eachother/similar, Killer Queen occasionally comes up with ideas kira wouldn’t have with just his brain power alone) so he’s left sort of guessing what it’s strange behavior could mean

#yoshikage kira #kira yoshikage #mpreg #jjba #jojo #jojos bizarre adventure #mpreg au #mpreg thoughts #headcanons #mpreg headcanons #anon submission #thanks anon!#lovely anon #anon ask #send anons #killer queen jjba #killer queen

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astoldbyaja · 5 months ago

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The Blossom surrounded by Fire - Ch. 35 (Warrior AU- HBO MAX)

My legs were numb, my muscles in both them and my stomach were sore. I sighed gently hearing the door open. I wasn’t worried about who it was, because I knew who it was. Zing entered, no shirt, pants only with two bowls of what looked like chopped fish and rice. He gave his usual grin.

“Good morning.” he cooed as I sat up. He stopped in front of me and handed me the bowl, a pair of chopsticks atop of them. I gave a small smile.

“Thank you.” I replied before moving to place my feet on the ground and eating quietly. He sat beside me eyeing my body.

“You know you should get used to waking up in my bed. When the Fung Hai win that tournament you and I will be spending a lot more time together.” he said. I could easily ask why he was so hell bent on having me around anyways either for medical services or this, but I already knew the answer. It was for power of course. I knew the minute he laid eyes on back at Chao’s place he was itching to do something to me. Maybe I should be glad it was just this and not painful torture.

“You’re very confident in yourself.” I replied.

“Why shouldn’t I be, my men won’t fail me.” he said with a huff. I nodded before continuing to eat. Zing’s smirk slowly fell as he stared at the body harness still intact.

“Your old master make you wear that?” he asked. I looked at him and then my body before nodding. “So, you really were a slave in the south.” I nodded once more.

“Yes.” I replied almost casually, as if I no longer cared. He nodded slowly. My stomach hadn’t fully woken up, so I began to set the bowl down, however Zing gave a low grunt and I looked at him to see him holding his hand out to me. I gave it to him, and he tossed the food in with his. I got up and after steadying myself a bit I moved to grab my cloak. It even hurt to bend over a bit. Everything ached.

“You know there is just something about you I can’t put my finger on. Something that just makes me want to lock you in my room and fuck you until I can’t move my body anymore.” he said. I tied the cloak around my body.

“Get in line.” I said before turning to face him now. He was smirking, cheek full of food.

“I like this morning version of you.” he said. I just looked down some taking a gentle breath before looking at him.

“I’ve returned the favor to your tong. I’ll be going now.” I replied moving to the door.

“Is it your innocent eyes,” he stated suddenly making me pause in front of the door, “that make dangerous men want you? Is it your strange ears that twitch when you’re deep in a dream? Is it your seductive body that makes you irresistible even to the lowest of men? Or maybe it’s because you’re colored, beautifully kissed by the sun that make even white women envious of your existence.”

I shivered at his words for a moment.

“Maybe if another colored girl comes through you can give her all the attention, you’d give me.” I said.

“No woman is as beautiful as you.” He said. I finally whipped my head to him with a frown.

“Why are you saying such things! It’s bad enough you can have me whenever a scheme of yours works, but now you play these mind games with me! You just see me as another whore, only my skin color is different.” I replied. He smirked leaning back some.

“Funny, I don’t ever recall wanting to impregnate my other whores.” he said.

“Obviously some sick fantasy of yours!” I said with disgust. He shrugged carelessly.

“Obviously, but I’m not the only one with this fantasy of mines, am I?” he purred. I stiffened at his words before turning and leaving his room. Fuck, it hurt to even walk. I left the empty casino and quietly moved through alleyways until I was back in Long Zii territory. I sighed with great relief, feeling so tired. As I made it to my home, I noticed the door was cracked open. I was tense, wondering who had the nerve to break into my home. I entered slowly, my eyes roaming the room until I made it to the kitchen to grab one of my knives. After doing a quiet walk about the lower floor, I moved upstairs and checked my room first.

Another sigh of relief left my lips as I saw Li Yong getting dressed.

“What are you doing here, I almost stabbed you.” I replied placing the knife on the dresser. Li Yong slowly turned to me a warm smile on his face.

“I figured I’d be here for when you return. I had hoped you would be back last night. Wishful thinking.” he said calmly approaching me, eyes softening on me as I looked up at him. “Are you alright?”

I nodded slowly and looked down at his chest before just letting my body lean into him, letting our arms wrap around each other.

“My heart and body will always come back to you.” I said into his chest.

“And you will always have my heart and body waiting for you.” he said into my hair. I slowly pulled back and looked up at his gentle eyes. He leaned in to try and kiss me and I turned away.

“No. I feel gross. I don’t want any of him to touch you through me.” I said with a shudder. So instead, Li Yong peppers my face with kisses, still pecking my lips once, twice, thrice now.

“I don’t care about him… I only want to touch you. Always.” he said with warmth in his tone. I looked at him with a soft smile before leaning up and finally letting his lips meet mine. They were soft and light, although I know they can be just as vicious when dominating my mouth.

After I scrubbed last night’s events off me, I started to wonder just how much influence I had when it came to some of these men. Would they fight for me, kill for me? I scoffed. Maybe Li Yong would- no. If any tong leader wanted me dead, I would be. Bolo would kill me, Li Yong may hesitate but would kill me, and Zing would most likely kill me while he’s on top of me. I needed to get out of my head, out of this world for a while. But how?

I was in one of my long robes, moving downstairs. Li Yong was at the door, and we smiled at each other.

“I made you some tea the way that you showed me with the peacock flower in it.” he said. By drinking the seeds, leaves or flowers of a peacock flower it would help induce a miscarriage. I nodded.

“Thank you.” I replied and he gave a curt nod.

“Will you be in the area?” he asked. I nodded.

“I will be visiting my patients today. I shouldn’t be too long.” I replied and he nodded taking my hand and kissing the top of my palm.

“I will come by tonight.” he said. I nodded and watched as he left my home. I gave another gentle sigh before moving into the kitchen where a cup of tea was sitting. I grabbed it and took my time drinking it down. The taste was always so stale, but I drank it, nonetheless.

I gave myself an hour to unwind and collect myself before leaving the house and going into the busy streets of Chinatown.

Normal POV

Amaka was in a pale blue dress with white flowers and vines all over the dress. She was even wearing pearl earrings. Her hair was shiny and soft, and the sun kissed her skin. Block by block, she moved about the different stores and homes unbeknownst to her of the eyes watching her.

“My god, she’s even dressing like them.” Dodger said with disgust.

“What do we do, the Carrington’s are going to want a report of the status of their slaves being alive or dead.” Roman replied.

“We could just wait until she’s alone and then grab her.” Tomas replied.

“It ain’t like any of these chinks would try and stop us.” Dodger replied.

“Let her play in her imaginary world a bit longer. We need to monitor her full routine first, see who she knows and whose a threat. If she’s dressing like them, then that means she has allies.” Butch replied.

“Why don’t we just pay someone to grab her. I guarantee those Irish fucks would swallow a cock if it meant making enough money to feed their families.” Roman replied. Butch scratched his rugged chin in thought before smirking.

“I think that’s a mighty fine idea.” he said lowly.

Amaka’s POV

The streets are always so busy. Everyone is doing what needs to be done to make a living, to survive. I looked up the street at the pond thinking how is it that our words are so close yet so divided? I felt my stomach grumbling already and I knew I needed food. I went into the closest tea and rice shop. I did not know the owners very well, and they actually pointed their noses down at me from time to time. Strange, I never really minded it, mostly because I was used to it from the outside world. Strange enough it felt like a relief to be looked down on if only for a short moment.

I ordered some rice and chicken and then paid. As I waited, I noticed men in familiar black and red coming in and I just kept my head down. I did not want to deal with any of them right now.

“AMAKA!”

I jump from the excited voice, and I look over at the familiar face of an onion.

“Hong. Hello again.” I said. He gave a big grin.

“I thought I would see you again sooner than expected!” he said happily. I tilted my head.

“You hoped you’d see me again?” I asked. He nodded with a matter-of-fact look on his face.

“Yes.” he said. I blinked almost unsure of what to say before I looked him over seeing the suit he wore and smiled.

“I like your outfit.” I said which made him gush some. “Your chain really gives it your own style.”

“Really, you like it?” he asked. I nodded and he chuckled.

“Well if I’m going to be a hatchet man for the Hop Wei, I need my own personal style that says: I’m Hong and I kick ass.” he said. Another Hop Wei member entered before finally, Bolo entered. I looked away some knowing he had seen me. Bolo tensed and then looked at Hong.

“Let’s go onion, we don’t have long before we make rounds.” he commanded before quickly leaving the shop. Hong nodded catching my look.

“We should hang out sometime.” he stated. I looked him over with caution.

“You’re Hop Wei, I’m Long Zii.” I reminded. He nodded.

“You’re a healer, I’m a scrapper until my official initiation. I haven’t been here very long, but I know of a place that I think you would enjoy.” he said. I arched a brow at him.

“A place I would enjoy. Not a lot of places around here that openly want coloreds in their businesses.” I said thanking the old man as he gave me my food.

“True… but in this place you can get out of your world for a bit and just be whatever you want to be. There is no color.” he said. I looked at him with a deep yet curious gaze. Could such a place like that really exist here?

“You would trust me, a stranger of a different tong, to just take me to this place? Why, why be so kind to me?” I asked. He gave a childlike look leaning over some.

“Because it looks like no one has been kind to you for a very long time.” he replied gently. I stared at his eyes intently, looking for any deceit but I couldn’t find it.

“ONION!” Bolo snaps. Hong grabbed a bowl of food and waved at me yet again another happy smile on his face.

“Bye Amaka!” he said joyfully.

“Bye Hong.” I said watching him leave.

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growandrecover · 1 year ago

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My doctor told me that I have 1-5 years to live if I don’t recover from my ED. But I’m still scared to recover. Any suggestions on how I can start?

Hey, anon.

Let me start off by saying how sorry I am. I can't imagine how scary that must be. I'm rooting for you, and I truly hope you can recover and live a long, happy, and fulfilling life. I have faith in you, and the entire recovery community has your back. You can do this.

If you're able, I'd find a therapist or try to get into a treatment facility. You can certainly do things on your own, but the best option (if it's available to you) would be professional help. Treatment takes a while to get into, so if that's something you're able to afford, you should start doing research and look into that now. I know it's scary, but it'll save your life.

If those things aren't possible for you, don't worry, you can still get better.

First of all, you're going to need support. That can be anyone (who doesn't have the same perception of food that you do- no Ana buddies), and if you don't have anyone, I can help you if you'd like. Someone who can sit with you while you eat, either on the phone or physically, to both distract and encourage you to make sure you're eating. If you're having trouble, this person could redirect you or simply just listen.

The most effective start for me was challenging my fear foods. I've mentioned this one specific thing before, but it was the very beginning of me getting better. My therapist asked me if I could try to eat a few M&M's since I love sweet foods. I was completely opposed, but my mom had me start with 4. That seemed impossible, and I was terrified. How could I eat them? Didn't she know what they would do to me? But I remembered how much I missed my favorite foods, and facing your fears is one of the best ways to overcome them. I'm not going to lie, even though it was 4 M&M's, I was upset about it afterwards. This will likely be difficult for you, but keep in mind that there are millions of people who have been in your shoes and will continue to be in your shoes. They have recovered, and so can you.

I'd also recommend adding more food to whatever meals you're eating. If you're not eating three meals a day, suddenly jumping to that might be hard for you to maintain. If you eat one or two, maybe add a food group to whatever it is you've prepared. I'm assuming that you've probably cut out at least one food group, and if that's correct, try adding the least scary thing. So for example, if you don't eat fats, you could add cheese, nuts, avocados or whatever you feel like. If those are fear foods for you, maybe just eat more of your fear foods if you can. Eventually you can add another meal to your day, and another, until you're eating like most people.

Some people in my treatment group had to drink Ensure. It was an easy way to add calories to their daily intake without eating any extra. That might work better for you.

Just a heads up: Your body may not react well to this. I got stomach aches every time I ate, and had frequent headaches as well. There's also something called Refeeding Syndrome. I'd advise you to look into this before doing anything, as it's deadly. A big perk of having professional help would be them keeping an eye out for this. If you can't get professional help, you should talk to your doctor about it and how you can avoid it.

If you're someone who overexercises, uses (or abuses) laxatives, purges, or engages in similar activities, you need to cut down on that as much as you can bear. Maybe instead of exercising for your regular amount of time, you could reduce it to that amount of time a few times a week or just a little bit (I'm talking like 30 minutes or less) each day if you can't do the first one. If you use or abuse laxatives, tell your doctor immediately. I'm neither a psychological or medical expert, so I don't want to give you advice that could hurt you. The only thing I can say with certainty is to drink some Powerade or Gatorade (they have them in zero cals if you're afraid to drink stuff with cals) to replenish the electrolytes you're losing. I don't know that much about purging via vomiting, but try to limit how many times a day you do it.

If you're on any kind of pro-ed social media, get off of it asap. Watching shows or movies (or even reading books) that encourage them should be put on hold as well. If you have any pro-ed friends or family members, I'm not going to tell you to cut them off, but you need to set boundaries about what you talk about with them. If they don't understand that, then maybe you should reconsider the amount of time you spend with them. I'm not trying to be mean, I just know how difficult it is to have people in your life encouraging something that's horrible for you.

I really hope at least some of this was useful to you, anon. If you need to talk or have more questions feel free to send me a message or another ask.

What you're about to do is scary, and it's okay to be scared. But you're stronger than your ed and you can recover from it. I have the utmost faith in you. I wish you the best of luck, and I'm sending you so much love ♡

#asks

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inevitablemoment · 2 years ago

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“say something.”

Word Count: 695

Warnings: Stillbirth/miscarriage (at 24 week gestation), starvation, eating disorder not otherwise specified, toxic family, body image struggles, marital estrangement

Fandom: Bright Lights, Big City

Pairings: Jamie Conway x Vicky Allagash

It feels good to slip back into this fandom after almost a year. I love this movie so much, and it deserves more love. This is actually a snippet from a future fic of mine, Brighter Than The Stars, following Jamie and Vicky’s journey to parenthood. As evidenced here, it’s not an easy road, but they will get there.

I recommend listening to “The First Cut Is The Deepest” by Sheryl Crow while reading this.

Enjoy!

————————

At first, Vicky thought that it would be a relief to finally be home. Now, she just wished that she was back in that damn hospital.

She still looked pregnant. Anyone who passed her by on the streets probably would place her at four months... if she had left the house at all. Hell, she hadn’t even left her bedroom.

Her stomach kept cramping up, sending her back to that horrible early morning with more effect than any time machine could have.

But sometimes, it was replaced by the hollowness of hunger. The kind of hunger that one would have from not eating anything in days.

Whenever Jamie tried to bring her food, she would only eat a few pieces unless he prodded her to eat more.

Any time she tried to sleep, she would either be greeted by a more macabre sight than what she had woken up to, or dream that she had miraculously given birth to a full-term baby that was waiting for her in the room across from hers.

And even though she asked Jamie to make sure that everyone knew to just let them grieve alone, Vicky's sisters and Irene had come on a so-called "condolence call."

While Phillipa’s attempts at consoling her were the most human that Vicky had ever remembered her eldest sister being, Leslie kept asking questions that a woman of her age (not to mention married with children of her own) should have known better than to ask, as well as lobbing passive aggressive remarks towards Jamie.

And her mother... well, Irene was still Irene.

Distant. Uncaring. Truly did not give a shit.

Vicky lifted her head from her pillow when she heard the door opening, seeing Jamie walk in.

He looked just as exhausted as she did, she realized.

Guilt curdled up in her empty belly as she thought, And because of me.

She turned away in shame. Despite the fact that she couldn’t keep their daughter alive in her womb, he was still worried about her and taking care of her.

Jamie carefully approached the bed, taking the hand that bore her wedding rings into both of his hands.

“Hey, Dottie,” he whispered.

The warmth of his hands over hers and the tenderness in his voice threatened to make tears well up in her eyes.

“Please... say something...” Jamie begged quietly. “You haven’t said a word all day.”

Vicky dared to look up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice sounded a little raspy from both not being used and from crying.

“I’m... I’m fine,” she said.

Liar.

"How's your stomach feeling?" Jamie asked.

“Fine,” she repeated, cringing at how she sounded like a broken record.

And then, she cringed again when she saw that her husband didn’t believe her.

"Come on, Vicky, you have to eat something," Jamie begged. "I can hear your stomach growling from the next room."

Vicky could feel another hunger pang coming, but she ignored it.

"I just... I don't feel like eating anything," she mumbled, despite the very obvious rumblings of her belly. “Just... please... I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted.

As he climbed to bed next to her, she turned onto her other side, wincing at moving so suddenly. Jamie's hands wandered over her belly, beginning to massage at the skin that was still stretched out from twenty-four weeks of pregnancy.

Vicky tensed up.

She knew that he was just trying to relieve the empty, hollow ache that came with an empty belly, but she wondered if he was hoping that he would somehow feel a kick, like she often did over the last week.

She flinched away from his touch and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if to protect herself.

“I don’t... I don’t want to really be touched right now,” she told him.

She could feel him withdrawing his hands away.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “I... I understand.”

He sounded... hurt.

And scared.

Instead of their usual spooning cuddle, they fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed that night... the both of them hoping that they wouldn’t let it turn into a habit.

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haevnlii · 2 years ago

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♡ these are just random thought-dumps, don't mind me

ignore typos i dont care anymore

Lately I've been experiencing abrupt and sharp pains in my chest and sometimes probably even my lungs unless it's still just my chest, just the whole thing this time --- more often than I used to. My breath's been stopping more and more as well. I also noticed I've been having no appetite much more? I usually did but it's happening much more often and it's not even 'cause of my sensitive stomach right now. Today food doesn't even sound very nice, even though I'm hungry and need to eat because I'll get a bad migraine if I don't.

Yesterday I fell "sick" out of nowhere with a bad tummy ache that eventually transitioned into nausuea with a migraine, and I couldn't even sleep because of it; I kept waking up and feeling it just,, come back. I gave up on trying to drink anything because I felt like opening the fridge or like trying something cold, or even like certain tastes ig? would make me feel worse-. The entire time, my breath's been stopping, maybe even every few minutes? Weird... I'll just take it as respawning stuff since I'm going w/ noticeable pain anyways, and if not, well shit; I hope it kills me anyways 💀 I don't feel any better today, it keeps coming and going, and it's really annoying.

Ah, anyways, I decided it'd be better I be bedridden to respawn. 🧍‍♀️💪🏻 With that, I also have a subliminal for that I'm creating specifically for death respawners. I'll give more information later, I guess. I already have the info-doc prepared, it's just to work on the affirmations when I have the energy.

Oh, and, quick random experience I guess? The other day I was just lying down when I suddenly felt my body zoom through the air with intense visualisations behind my eyelids. I thought if I stayed still and focused on the sensations, then maybe I'd end up in sleep paralysis which I could use to reincarnate — but instead I ended up going through, two? dreams/dream scenarios. I was aware of the fact my body was falling asleep, I was aware of everything else, I just never realised I wasn't awake anymore and that small experience already transitioned into a dream. If I just thought a little deeper into things, I'd be sure to end up lucid though, AAAAA- fuck.

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sinvulkt · 2 years ago

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Angstpril: 23. FAILURE - slave past

@whumpril - 23. Bloodstains

One day, the governor second, Följare, gave me a shock collar controller. “For self defense,” he said. to denote your station, I heard. I knew he wanted me to use it. I didn’t. Not at first.

(I was a slave just like them, so why would I?)

I hated eating at the cantina. It was always busy, noisy, and the food was never good. Everytime I entered, conversations shut down and the word traitor was passed around. But despite my promotion, the governor had never assigned me another place to eat, and so I continued the journey towards the mines everyday to eat.

Then the day came when I barely stepped into the room that a massive twi'lek blocked my way. “This is the slave cantina.”

“I know,” I answered.

I tried to move forward, but the twi’lek stood his ground. “You don’t understand. This is the slave cantina.”

I gritted my teeth. “Let me pass.” The collar around my neck was proof enough I was a slave.

He shook his head. “No place left for traitors here, sorry.”

I forced my way in, only to be thrown outside. My ribs cracked under the force of the blow, and I curled on myself. Dust gathered on my too-well-groomed feathers, and I knew I’d be punished for it when I went back. Standing back up hurt. I would have bruises tomorrow.

A hard object in my pocket was irritating my side, and I took it in my hand. It was the shock collar controller. I glanced up. The twi’ lek was still blocking the entrance, and had turned around to loudly laugh with the people inside. On the back of his neck, I could clearly see the numbers SN.314.

My stomach growled.

I entered the twi’lek slave code into the controller. Pressing the precious object in my hand, thumb at the ready, I called out.

“Let me pass.”

The twi’lek laughed. “No.”

His body tensed and he arrogantly rolled his shoulder. Anger churned in my chest, muddling my mind. There was no doubt who would win in a fight. Sadly for him, I never intended to play fair.

I held the controller in evidence.

“Let. Me. Pass.”

The twi’lek eyes widened. “It’s a- how did you get that?”

“She is bluffing,” someone said behind him.

I scoffed. They’d learn whether it was real soon enough.

This game was stupid. If I asked the governor second for food in private, he would likely give it to me. It would make us both win time, and avoid dangerous disagrement. But I had always eaten at the slave cantina, despite being dodged and glared at as if I was the worst of the plague, and to lose that privilege… to be pushed aside as if I wasn’t one of them, as if I didn’t share the pain of my freedom taken away from me… It made the fire in my veins burn.

Fear now haunted the twi’lek’s gaze, but he kept his place in my way. “Go search for your food elsewhere, Traitor. I’m sure your Master will take care that his favorite pet is well fed.”

I pushed the button.

The twi’lek collapsed, twisting under the electricity short-circuiting his nerves. It was impressive, in a way. A tall, grown man suddenly reduced to a whimpering mop on the ground. It was exhilarating.

A group of slaves left the cowering sheep to try to steal the controller from my hand, but a simple jump took me in the air, out of their reach. I smirked, untouchable. I was out of their league.

“Stop,” someone said beneath me. “Stop.”

It took me far too long to understand the person was addressing to me. “Sinvulkt, stop!”

A rush of clarity cleared my head, and I complied, releasing the shock button. I knew that voice.

The twi’lek’s cries finally ceased, replaced by harsh panting. Everything felt far away, unreal, as if it was only a vision created by the Force. But the burned smell reaching my nostrils and the pulsing ache of my side assured me it was all too real. I looked down to see who had called me.

A zabrak was pressed against the twi’lek unconscious body, glaring at me with a hate-filled gaze. Död, I recalled. One of the other failed Jedi Initiates. Our eyes met, and a shudder shook my spine.

“You will never be a Jedi,” she seethed.

I hissed back, fire rekindling in my veins. My thumb traced the controller. Did I know her numbers? I had to. My thoughts were lost in the tempest agitating my body, and I hovered around the edge of the devastation I had caused, trapped between the urge to lash out and the numb horror of what I had done.

In the end, the buzz of my communicator decided for me. Someone at the palace was demanding me. Even muddled by rage, my mind remembered all too well the pain of disobeying.

“Nor will you,” I threw back at Död.

I flew away from the scene, rushing to the palace.

(The fear of being late was not the reason for my fast wingbeat.)

Död’s word rang in my mind. You will never be a Jedi. The words had been thrown in anger, and meant to hurt. I didn’t know if my reputation preceded me, if the two other Failed Initiates knew how much I had yearned for that title, or if it was just a threat thrown in the wild. But Död had it right in the nail.

I couldn’t deny the truth.

I would never be a Jedi.

Not because I would die a slave, never to see the Temple again, or because I had been sent away as a failure in the first place. No, I would never be a Jedi, because I hurt a harmless man for my own satisfaction. Because the dragon in my chest was roaring, asking for more and more as my skin crackled under life’s blows, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it consumed me.

Because I wanted for it to consume me. I knew the governor second wanted it, too. I knew the other slaves expected it to. And for an instant, as my thumb pressed on a slave controller, it had.

The dragon should have felt satisfied. I should have felt pleasure, at getting the never ending hunger satiated. At getting revenge. And yet, as the fire finally died down, as cold replaced the burning anger haunting my veins… All I could feel was the bitter taste of ashes, and the heavy weight of chains.

#angstpril2023 #starwars #fanfiction #day 23 #failure #whumpril2023 #whumprilday23 #bloodstains #the amazing adventures of excentrics jedi #taaoej #sinvulkt fics #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic

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amnotaqueen · 6 months ago

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He Puts Hot Pepper In Our Son's Mouth

Today, I gave our son pizza for dinner along with sliced cucumber and a fruit cup. My husband hates him eating pizza. I went to my bedroom to try and relax a little bit and left my son to eat dinner in the dining room while his dad was in the kitchen to keep an eye on him. After a while, I suddenly heard my son crying and fussing like he was in pain. Of course, I get up and run out of my room to see what is wrong with him. When I see him, I asked him what is wrong. He is crying and pointing into his mouth, and saying something like 'daddy put it here.' Then he runs to the kitchen and gets a cup and fills it with water from the fridge and starts to guzzle down water. Seemed to me like his mouth was burning. He recently lost another tooth, so when he was pointing into his mouth saying that daddy put it here, it made me think his dad gave him some of his ground red pepper and it got into that sensitive cavity in his mouth. All this time our son is running around crying, screaming, and scrambling for water, my husband was not even looking at him or me. He had his back to us while he cooked at the stove. I saw his bag of ground red pepper on the counter top.

I asked my husband what happened. He ignored me. I asked again. He didn't answer. Then I asked why he was acting like that, why he couldn't just answer a simple question. Then he blurts out that I should ask him, as in, I should ask our son what happened. I had already done that and now I was asking the adult who was left to supervise him at the time. He told me I was out of line for asking him what was wrong with our son. I told him that there was nothing wrong with me coming to him to ask him what happened and that it was the thing a normal person would do. He feels hyper defensive and offended when I question him in any way. But I told him that if my mom was the only one with our son at the time of his crying and screaming, that I would ask her what happened just as I was asking him. If I walked into his school and heard him crying and screaming, I would naturally ask the teacher what happened.

My husband refused to answer the question of what happened. His behavior is suspicious and his reactions are bizarre and uncalled for. Only people trying to hide their guilt refuse to answer questions, get overly defensive, and start making accusations that don't make sense. He has given our son hot pepper before. I and others have told him it was cruel to give our young son a spoonful of hot pepper. Nigerians eat spicy food; it is very hot pepper, not mild like your typical black pepper. Narcissists don't care about the viewpoints of others because only their viewpoint matters.

My son complained of stomach ache for a little while after ingesting the hot pepper. I thought he was going to throw up but he did not. He only had to have a bowel movement. I monitored him and stayed with him in the bathroom holding a trash can in front of him in case he puked while on the toilet. His father remained unconcerned, cooking his food.

When our son came out of the bathroom, he said, "Daddy, my stomach hurt." My Husband said to him coldly, "You just used the bathroom, did you not?" I told him that he is always trying to point out areas in which he thinks I'm doing something wrong. And I truly mean that he ONLY looks for what he thinks I am doing wrong with my son and never sees or comments on anything he thinks I do right. As far as he is concerned, I do nothing right. So, I told him he should look at himself more and see what he should work on. I told him that his son told him his stomach was hurting to get some empathy, some compassion and was met with his typical cold, indifferent attitude. He ignored me, of course. Our son said to him, "Don't give me any more pepper, daddy." My son was ignored by him.

I suppose he gave him hot pepper because he considers it to be something that would counteract the pizza my son ate. He thinks the hot pepper will 'flush out' the poisonous chemicals in the pizza. When he gives my son things to eat, it frightens me sometimes. Because one time a couple or few years ago, I let him give me something that made me very sick. I was eating dinner and he just came with a spoonful of something, telling me that it would help cleanse my system. The moment whatever it was touched my tongue, I became sick, nauseated. All night, from around 6pm to early the next morning, I was sick with diarrhea and severe stomach cramps. I was doubled over in pain and I pooped until there was no water left in my colon. In the morning, I was dehydrated, dizzy, and weak. He went to work in the morning like everything was fine. He was not concerned about me. He told me it was doing what it was supposed to do. I think I probably should have gone to the ER. His Nigerian cousin who is like his sister was laughing when I told her about it, like she saw something humorous or cute about my husband giving me something that gave me severe diarrhea and severe stomach cramps. She became a nurse in the United States. She of all people should know that the situation I was in was not cute or funny. She is one of his flying monkeys, enablers who makes sure he behaves as a narcissist without consequence. In fact when I showed her the pics of bruises my husband put on our son a year and half ago when he spanked him, she didn't respond like a loving, concerned auntie. She responded like an enabling flying monkey who doesn't want to speak against her narcissistic relative so that he can continue to do narcissistc things and abuse his family in narcissistic ways. After all, as she herself said, "He is not hurting ME." As in, it's OK if he hurts other people, as long as he isn't hurting her (or her daughter) and is helping her in some way, she is plenty willing to overlook his cruelty. She also is a Nigerian Jehovah's Witness.

As I was saying, I don't trust my husband giving our son any of his 'remedies'. He could give him too much of something like he did me. He likes to give him things when my back is turned as well, because he doesn't want me to question him about anything. He will give him garlic cloves and chunks of ginger to eat. Garlic can be very strong and can induce stomach ache and vomiting. I'm afraid he is going to give our son something that makes him sick and I won't even know what he gave him. I myself don't take anything from him again. But he feels he can give our son whatever he pleases whether I agree with it or not. Once my son was eating pancakes or something like that and he gave him some type of seed that made him throw up a bit, the texture or taste of it made him vomit. While I cleaned up the vomit and was trying to make sure our son was OK, my husband was sitting there, quietly, coldly, and indifferently like he had nothing at all to do with it.

#bad marriage #narcissism #emotional abuse #narcissistic abuse

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valiantsuitcaseskellington · 11 months ago

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Having a period when you don't experience cramps like other women do is kinda weird but also a little funny in retrospect.

Like the crazy emotions are most definitely from the period itself, but it's also gotta be from the pain right? But how I experience it is a little different, and highlights other behaviors more.

Like, my stomach feels like a pit, like there's a gaping whole there. Not like there's a wound, but that something is missing, or moved and I'm not used to the change. This is obviously because I'm used to the Blood that was built up and is now suddenly ejecting away, ofc. The problem is, I also end up having way less of an appetite, and I eat A LOT, so it's really noticeable. Like, I eat cuz I don't care about appearance or any of that shiz, and I probably should care more, but still. Suddenly I gotta force myself to eat meals because even though I am most definitely hungry, I don't got an appetite. My stomach growls, I feel my stomach give a slight pang, but my brain still says that I don't gotta eat food right now if I don't want to. That I don't need to. And that's kinda a let down, and annoying.

I also... think? I get even more jittery, both physically and emotionally, but Aldo I become more... unable to focus on work? Or maybe that's just me and whatever autistic I am(not diagnosed, but peer reviewed by people or are. They say I at least, most definitely have adhd). I also get these emotional things when I'm not on my period, so idk??? But I think the more jittery thing is a symptom?

Oh! And on the subject of pain, instead of getting very painful cramps, my current pain amplifies. I got minor backpack, mainly becomes annoying when I try to sleep. On my period? It bothers me so. Much. I'm sitting in school chair being miserable pressing my back up against the chair trying to get my back to stop hurting, putting my legs on and off chairs and moving about, its the worst. I mean, if I get a cut the pain won't amplify, it's just aches. And mainly my back pain now that I think about it.

All in all, I got it really good compared to other girls. I often don't realize I'm on my period until my underwear is already ruined, and I don't want to spend my parents, and eventually my money on birth meds to regulate it cuz I see no issue with it. And I never plan to have sex so:/

#periods #period talk #period cramps #menstral cycle #menstral cramps #loss of appetite #period blood #adhd #asexual #asexuality #periods in relation to being asexual #birth control

0 notes

ltadoriyuujl · 4 months ago

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you know what time it is

His fingers grope at every warm and suddenly limp part of you, trembling through the pleats of your red dress to pull your hips nearer, to cup your cheeks again– your jaw, to press hard at the flow of blood from the faucet your own blade made from your ribs and cry wordlessly when your firelight eyes contort first then dim with the pain. Bakugou shields your body with his on the bloody dancefloor, “Y/n!”

sigh i love when men are in the pits of desperation

How did you know?

spidey senses that tingle when bkg is in imminent danger (its shocking how many times theyve gone off)

Enji should be executed if he is not killed tonight, for keeping his family so prisoner in a palace where doors open only inward.

shakes head OSHA could have saved them

The old doctor winces as she is spirited through fleeing coats and gowns and armor, through the smoke, and startles at every immolating shriek in every scalded throat. How many has he killed? The fire smells familiar before it smells like flesh. The yolk of Fuyumi’s heart breaks on Uraraka’s shoulder.

slaps Takoba this bad boy can fit so much trauma!

He has to fight. When Bakugou dares one more glance you are the ache of the last dragon in his friend’s arms. His fingers linger on your stomach, the lift and fall there where fire is meant to be and he is ten again, on the battlements, watching you lose spar after spar in the muddy bailey below.

this part made me think of the bit in the last chapter that was like he'll die for his friends and you can't let him and i momentarily became so insane i had to put my phone down and pace my room

Not one lick of fire slips from him.

just useless WE HAVE TO STONE HIM

One wrong move, you’ll hemorrhage, you’ll burn, worse, you will crawl out of paradise to get up and fight for him if he doesn’t get you out now.

sighs dreamily he knows us so well

You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are the only one of Jeanist’s recruits soaked in mud. You are gone. Bakugou is a boy watching you always.

literally invented love like CMON

He is the one who shot you. He is the one who dragged you to the sea. The blue mage is dressed for a ball and catches himself easily in a landing against the filthy ballroom floor. He is the douse of your bonfire heart and your prince will have his head.

shakespeare couldn't come up with anything so romantic if he wrote nonstop for 100 days and nights

“You’re just flammable, princeling,” he coos in his dark suit. A blue flower stands sadly in his lapel, “I am ignition.”

dabi i don't like you so i could never give you a 10 but you did eat with this

Bakugou did not die the first night in Takoba because you, soggy with river water, trembling with cold, kept him behind your back– pinned him tight to the ground– when the fires started. He didn’t die in the gardens because you would pluck him from hell if he tried. Not even his own champion moves so quickly.

insanity4insanity this food is so FUCKING GOOD

“How does it feel to learn? The easiest part of this whole night was paying Takobans to kill you.”

literally gasped out loud THIS CRAZY FUCKING KINGDOM

Bakugou has never been able to escape from love. At every turn, he is held hostage by it. It is his friends yapping about their days, their fears, their anger, it is worry and exhaustion and forgiveness. You are the only one of which he couldn’t draw a perfect map.

he cares so muchhhh hes made of loveeee katsuki the man you are i adore you

“You’re so fucking chatty.”

TALK YO SHIT BABY LET HIM KNOWWW

There’s nowhere to hide in Takoba. The ghost smokes from every rotten seam high above the crowd and flames lap his lips in frustrated exhales. His nightblue suit cannot withstand him. There’s nowhere to hide, not one crack for the bugs, not for maids, not for mages and Bakugou’s eyes go wide when the ghost begins to breathe fire.

very off topic very irrelevant but this reminded me (in a very roundabout way) of my descendants fanfiction and now i want to pick it back up so sorry to everyone i promised a second chapter

You are beautiful above him, eyes the color of arson. You are greed like he’s never seen. You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are finally victorious with a guttural cry and a squire pinned in mud beneath your staff.

marriage isnt even enough their bones need to be fused together or something man

It would have killed him too, had the heat off his skin not melted the metal to its hilt in your fist.

literally said DAMN out loud

“You rotten,” he gasps, face full of you, “horrible asshole.” Bakugou glides, over ice and under fire that has lost its mark in the new chaos. Pieces of window sink into jackets and coats and flesh. Salt suddenly plagues the fresh air, chill from the goddess. He holds you as tightly as life will let him.

love confession if i've ever heard one

“You’re welcome.” He shakes his head and you with him, smiling, “Don’t go where I can’t see you, Highness.”

theres nothing to say you see it

Traitors are caught in the cross as the mage makes to kill his family. His horrible family. His horrible father suddenly offers red fire up just as high as his wife’s melting wall. The king’s face is still hollow but light licks his edges and the mage is thrilled for long enough to forget about you.

welcome back to keeping up with the todorokis. in this epic season finale, dabi achieves the dreams of eldest children everywhere: traumatizing his dad back

You think he tries to reach for you, "And we're going home." You think he really does mean it.

if dabi doesn't blow Takoba off the map Mitsuki just might

Your prince is calling your name. Explosions shower the path you’re carving through the ballroom with golden sparks. It was a decent party. Peruro– Bakugou, your prince is a wonderful dancer.

every time katsuki is called "my prince" a year is added to my life

It cannot exist all at once, he is not the surface of the sun, he is in pain. He begs and bargains for his magic. He is a monster but he is much more easily killed than you. The only horror here is in how badly Takoba hates its king and how easy it was to ensure no one came to help him.

can't even blame them tbh

Fire only dreams of touching you.

all i could hear was sonic going YOURE TOO SLOWWW

Bakugou carries you deeper into the bowels of Takoba among his fleeing friends. He keeps you safe in strong arms and you no longer plan on dying.

sniffles we've come so farrrr....truly the slowburn of ever

thank you again pomme cant wait for the next one

𝟏𝟖 | 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He glows like fairylight at every place sweat pools. You don’t realize he’s carrying you, running, sprinting, because you don’t realize how much blood you’ve lost– how many pieces of you Takoba took on your warpath."

cw reader does her job detrimentally well, mortal wounds and soulmates cradled in pools of their own blood. ambush from an undead mage and the carnage that follows. descriptions of violent burns, be warned. rage, revenge, sparks unleashed in anguish, the muddy little girl who loses spars in the bailey and un unshakable harrowing greed. a second ghost crashes the massacre, halo of the moon 6.6k

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The second your blood waters the dancefloor, baubled lords and ladies stumble backwards and through a crowd half–too drunk to realize something has gone wrong and half-too whelmed by music still howling. The ball devolves at impossible speed.

Bakugou pulls you onto your side and underneath of him faster than you’re able to slip down the spear towards the bite it carved from the floor. It’s nearly the length of your arm, it’s meant to fell boars, it’s meant to be hilt deep in a monster at the bottom of the sea and you are meant to be dancing, pretty and red in his arms. His hand jerks behind you to burn the blade from its shaft without taking his eyes off the rhythm your shocked lashes flutter. With a single singed fistfull of spark, the wood splinters, it panics, it clatters to the ground.

“Eyes,” he is still, not calm, beside you in a white suit that laps your blood hungrily up its hems. His fingers grope at every warm and suddenly limp part of you, trembling through the pleats of your red dress to pull your hips nearer, to cup your cheeks again– your jaw, to press hard at the flow of blood from the faucet your own blade made from your ribs and cry wordlessly when your firelight eyes contort first then dim with the pain. Bakugou shields your body with his on the bloody dancefloor, “Y/n!”

“Get clear,” you murmur into his palm as your head drops to the marble.

Shrieks and glass shatter the air when the first blue candles melt in clumps from a chandelier. Bows die on their fiddles. The ballroom might be a graveyard already for all your prince knows– for the terror that sounds off in every direction– but his captain’s blood feeds the prowling dragons of his jacket and you are the only person here who cannot die.

When Uraraka throws her princess over her shoulder the masses succumb to chaos. “Cover the throne!” Aizawa cries, Queen Rei! Majesty! Open the doors! Raise the alarm! Soldiers struggle through the sudden current of fleeing guests to reach their royals at the back of the room. Glass shatters, pearls burst from snapped jewelry when hundreds of people threaten violent stampede and you are right to hate crowds. Shuzenji.

“Y/n!” Kirishima cries. Shuzenji, the doctor. Bakugou’s gaze flies up towards the panic, he prays through the chaos with eyes the color of treason. He keeps you near with useless hands the color of heartbreak. “Attacker on the catwalks!” The champion shields both of you with the width of his shoulder but Bakugou isn’t paying enough attention– he isn’t– Kirishima’s saying something and your eyes have closed.

“What happened?!”

“Y/n!”

How did you know?

Agony from every direction. A burnt cackle floats above the clamor like foam. There is a ghost at the party. He walks unwaveringly forward through servants that startle and shove past each other and he tilts his head to muse over panicked ants in their pretty glass box. The ghost shakes out his throwing arm with a smile. Every now and then he makes a candle drink its wick whole and catch blue on curtains or a fleeing gown and that makes him smile too.

“Katsuki!” Mina screams over you but her prince is frozen between kneel and rise, staring, begging through the seagreen throngs. He needs the doctor. He knows he knows he knows he knows. You lost consciousness too quickly. You whisper to thunderstorms. You prefer rye. You– you’re– he– Bakugou’s breath doesn’t come. If you are moved wrong once from the floor you will die. The ghost is bored.

There is a shriek worse than the others when a woman and her teal silk slip go up in flame from heel to crown. Not far ahead of her, two men choke as blue fire blankets melt their tongues to their throats.

Any order the guards had maintained falls away under threat of cremation. The delicately dressed masses panic to every corner of the room and even more begin throwing their bodies at the unmanned elven doors. Enji should be executed if he is not killed tonight, for keeping his family so prisoner in a palace where doors open only inward.

None of you should have come to this place, he shouldn’t have allowed it. A blue comet arcs overhead and Mina throws her friends under a wave of her hand and the shield of her magic, “We have to move!”

Bakugou’s breath doesn’t come til it does, because as his champion makes to lift both him and his red captain off of the ground, the Todoroki Champions come harsh into focus. They defy the crowd, Shinsou soaring, Deku crackling black, Uraraka– she carves escape from the wall of people climbing over each other at a crack in the doors, with her princess over her shoulder and the doctor small under her arm. Breath becomes thunder.

You are scooped tight into his arms before he can explain to Kirishima, in tears, or Mina or Sero armed above them, as their prince cradles his wounded captain like porcelain and bursts from the ground.

“Kat– wait!”

It is the death of a prince sixteen years ago, it is Rei’s final smile, it’s Aldera’s first trip to the sea, it’s a curtain of white hot stars that shine brighter the closer they burst in their warpath. When Bakugou lands he takes Uraraka with him, hard against the pearlescent wall.

She drops her princess before she is crushed by impact or runners, and growls, but the body in Bakugou’s arms keeps her from striking. “Get her out!” He roars, again pressing the weak bundle of you into her chest at the edge of a cannibalistic crowd. A bloody spear juts from your bodice like a lighthouse. Your fingers still twitch in pain but your face has gone slack and your wild braids fall without purpose over your prince’s sleeves. A child shrieks. A woman throws her daughter above the chaos and through the pathetic opening in ballroom doors and goes all up blue, arms still outstretched, behind her.

The champion isn’t given a choice. Fuyumi’s trembles as she wretches Uraraka’s arms around you, “We will!” princess promises prince. Shuzenji is steadied on Fuyumi’s back and Bakugou has never seen the old woman shake; she cannot look at blue fire. He keeps the women and you now with them, tight against the wall inside his chest and not one of you questions why you haven’t gone up in flames, only when.

He cups Uraraka’s face in a blood-soaked hand but speaks to the doctor, “Keep her alive.” And rips his cape from his shoulders with the other, “No one’ll hurt you. Won’t get close.”

His hands are the last thing to leave you. The fireproof cape is fastened over Uraraka’s shoulders with Fuyumi holding tight close behind and your blood ensures victory because his hands are warm with it. Strings of flowers pop as they succumb to fire, violins wheeze in the heat. He has to fight. When Bakugou dares one more glance you are the ache of the last dragon in his friend’s arms. His fingers linger on your stomach, the lift and fall there where fire is meant to be and he is ten again, on the battlements, watching you lose spar after spar in the muddy bailey below.

The Alderan prince is airborne faster than any mage might follow and he fires five missiles at the catwalks through a clenched fist. At the height of his arc he twists to face the stubborn doors in collision. Kirishima and Kaminari are busy below him collecting wounded Takobans to pile behind Mina’s growing greengrey shield. Sero and Shinsou cut through the air, flying like acrobats on ribbons between the chandeliers towards the mass of armored guards at the back of the room. Aizawa backs the queen against her throne and beside him, the king stares without moving. Not one lick of fire slips from him.

Bakugou hits the doors and the shrieking masses at exactly the same moment, foam and teeth to pull him under. They will kill themselves to escape, they will kill each other. Silver nails dig into whatever flesh is nearest for purchase over thighs and shoulders. The bodies never stop. Bones break unmistakably, wigs and shoes succumb to flame almost at random, the laughter– Bakugou fires every pearl of sweat on his knuckles down into the marble he is pressed against and the new destruction creates enough space underneath to breathe. One wrong move, you’ll hemorrhage, you’ll burn, worse, you will crawl out of paradise to get up and fight for him if he doesn’t get you out now.

Deku fails at every turn to keep the Todoroki prince behind him against the great window of starlight. The champions are smart to keep their royals far apart, the prince thinks as he digs his fingers into the only marble seam in all of Takoba. Magic the color of greed, pink, white, orange, and gold, detonate the lower hinge of the ballroom door.

The crack of escape becomes a maw as the door, fifty feet, buckles over itself and slips to the side supported only by its highest mechanics. “Go!” He cries under the crowd, he pulls lords to their feet, his jacket is ripped from his frame, he lifts the wounded through to safety, he tackles diplomats before they are hit by blue comets and he remembers to breathe when Uraraka erupts through the thinning throng in her armor, barely grazing the floor as she soars from the ballroom and into the chill of the entrance hall outside. Fuyumi grips her cape and the doctor with it and all four of you are launched by magic into the night.

You are safe in her arms. You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are the only one of Jeanist’s recruits soaked in mud. You are gone. Bakugou is a boy watching you always.

The ghost pouts over the guardrail before he drops from it. He is lean like his mother. His white hair tickles the collar of a blue suit as fire bursts forth under his feet to slow his descent. “Begging your pardon, Majesty.”

Everyone but the king, comes to terms with horror. Enji freezes where he stands with arms outstretched in commanding order among his men, and flame dies from him on the stairs of the throne. His wife is quick to her feet, silent. Natsuo does not move. Confused Alderans are the only actors in the room for just a moment.

“Attack!” Aizawa barks. The second the master’s eyes fall on the mage, his fire dies beneath him and gravity snaps that lithe beautiful body to the ground. Bakugou erupts alongside scattered soldiers. He catapults from the elven doors on magic every violent calculation of fireworks. He is the one who shot you. He is the one who dragged you to the sea. The blue mage is dressed for a ball and catches himself easily in a landing against the filthy ballroom floor. He is the douse of your bonfire heart and your prince will have his head.

“You don’t listen,” the mage drawls. His suit jacket is the blue color of dusk, so dark it would be black if he weren’t framed by the night sky in the window behind him. He raises a lazy arm towards the guards mobilizing from the throne ranks like it might be the easiest thing in the world to order their surrender. Who wouldn’t submit to such delicate blue eyes?

A flame rears from his open palm. The mass of it could rival any dragon and the heat kills sixteen soldiers so quickly they cannot make a sound. When the light dies, armor hisses in puddles and bone. “I have a question,” he clears his throat. There’s no time for Bakugou to pivot in the new chaos. The prince releases pressure from his fists to slow ascent and clips warped weapons from how close he hugs the floor.

When eyes fly to master Aizawa he is suddenly wrestled between his queen and his own soldier who means to kill her, no longer watching the mage. The Takoban soldier drives a blade through his master’s arm and only falls when he is slit by Aizawa’s knife. The damage is done. Forces rush to pull the traitor off the platform of the throne, but they are grappled in turn by the surprise of more traitors in their own silver uniforms. Soldiers who eat and sleep and live and love together, begin to kill each other and Aizawa is as far from focused.

Why!? Bakugou seethes as his feet hit the wall in front of him. You would know, you would see it. He retches his head against gravity and stars shoot from his fingers towards the back of the flame mage, but their hidden attack– the chain of explosions they’ll make upon contact– let loose before even getting close.

“You’re just flammable, princeling,” he coos in his dark suit. A blue flower stands sadly in his lapel, “I am ignition.” Again the bombs detonate five meters too far to do damage in the waves of heat that reach from him in every direction.

Some sort of peace is found in the ambush. The guests have either fled from or hidden in the reaches of the ballroom. No attacks touch the undead mage and to his horror, Bakugou realizes that every other mage in the room is struggling against a new civilian enemy.

Cowering dancers pull weapons from their blue silks and strike at the soldiers attempting to help them. Kaminari hardly pushes Mina down fast enough to avoid the mace of a lady who was dancing only minutes ago. Shinsou is trapped at the base of the throne between treasonous soldiers, corpses, and suddenly armed diplomats and Master Aizawa can’t be seen– he’s been struck– the king does nothing, Bakugou doesn’t understand but you would.

You fire weapons into crowds. You remove unpleasant guests from his mother’s council. There’s no room for shame when you have never been wrong. You creep into the battlements at home to watch the stars and not once in twenty years has there been an intruder at the castle. Bakugou did not die the first night in Takoba because you, soggy with river water, trembling with cold, kept him behind your back– pinned him tight to the ground– when the fires started. He didn’t die in the gardens because you would pluck him from hell if he tried. Not even his own champion moves so quickly.

On the debris scattered floor, Bakugou considers strength. How much of his invincibility is not his at all? And how much of his complete and total inability to think now is yours too?

“Your sweaty guest could tell you all about this one,” the ghost tuts. The elegance of his stride almost distracts from the scars that rot and steam under his cuffs. He rummages in his sleeve, the silver buttons glow with heat, and twirls a vial between long fingers. “Call it derealization. How does it feel now, Master? How did it feel Alderan? To have your magic sucked and twirled down a drain out of your reach with just the nick of an arrow? The twist of a little knife dipped in an even littler bottle?” He pivots when a fallen beam catches blue in proximity to his stride and leans closer towards the throne in the clearing he has made around himself. “How does it feel to learn? The easiest part of this whole night was paying Takobans to kill you.”

Whatever solutions Bakugou had come up with for the confusion of this hellnight, evaporate. “Eijirou!” He shouts. His champion flies unheard over marble towards the ghost and all his blind spots, skin splintered like armor, when his prince’s voice cracks over the din of combat, “the girls!”

His attack might have hit. Kirishima, out of all of them, can withstand the most heat and he hates to reveal his friend’s position, but something so much worse is surely happening. Uraraka, surrounded and suddenly swarmed by assassins disguised as diplomats fleeing fire. You, cold in her arms and patrolling guards not quick enough through the maze to help her. The fact– the horror of a thought that scant castletown staff might have already fallen to the mage’s infiltrators.

Kirishima abandons his path towards the mage and dives under the incoming strike of a turncoat soldier. Newly armed with a broadsword, he careens through the crack in the great ballroom doors and into the dark of the castle, understanding his prince all too clearly.

“Do you want to know why?” Ash drips cruelly from the stitching along the ghost’s jaw, “Why the king returned home– who sent for him? Aren’t you curious?” There is something so smothering in his whine, like sadness will suffocate every person here before smoke. “Doesn’t anyone want to know why I need Alderans? Or do you already know? Clever boys. You already know what will happen when the prince that you promised the world you put down, claws his way back from hell to kill the heir of the Aldera. Of course you do,” he sucks his teeth, Natsuo goes white beside his mother who hasn’t made a sound. The queen keeps her son behind her even as her soldiers struggle to keep traitorous daggers at bay in a sea of noisy silver.

The ghost raises his hands again, right towards your calculating prince and left towards the royals on their frozen thrones. King Enji stares, unblinking. Rei’s hands fly from her sides and trace frost through the air.

“A beautiful, unwinnable war.”

“Touya!”

“Mama.”

Two Todorokis regain themselves. As flames scream out from the mage’s fingertips, Rei’s incalculable wall of ice splits the room in two. It cracks marble, shatters chandeliers, it butts the ceiling and grips through the stone so hard that dust plumes from the weakened foundations. At the same time, the youngest Todoroki, and his champion, burst into the open air, rocketed forward by his own frozen and rising pillars. Bakugouwinces as he ricochets through Takoba’s new obstacle course. His skin chaps from violent heat and shocking cold.

Shoto makes an egg of his undead brother, cased all in ice as he flies past. Deku isn’t more than two seconds behind him and in a flash of black light, the casing shatters like the person inside couldn’t possibly remain in anything but pieces. Unsatisfied, two familiar ribbons jolt over Bakugou’s shoulders. The three of them shoot higher together into the night, between and against the pillars of ice and the playground they made of the party. Sero is faster. He smirks, bloody, in the clearing Mina made for the injured. His magic reaches through obstacles, over his prince and whips like bandages around the ghost’s broken prison.

“Heel, Blasty!” Kaminari grunts because every fighter in the room realized at once that the mage’s fire would always be stronger than his brother’s cold. The cracked pieces of ice become water in an instant and when Kaminari lets his magic loose up Sero’s ribbons, that same water boils. Cracks of lightning blind the dim room lit only by moonlight and sad stray blue candles.

Bakugou’s magic punches him to the ceiling. His burnt white vest and a tattered shirt glow, the sweat down his neck, at his jaw, down his sides, sting and pop and crackle. Starfall, yeah?

Before the scent of burnt flesh can drift out to sea, the prince bears his weight and magic down on the place the mage should be in smoking tatters. If this ghost is the reason you stare down dark corridors, Bakugou is the reason you never rest. Mage or prince, he won’t forgive either. He lands in a dehisce of pink and golden sparks, “Fucking die!”

“In due time.”

When the prince detonates, the mage holds him close. As Bakugou hangs he thinks of Aldera.

There are too many days without sun in the summer, and too many without thunderstorms in winter. Your prince loves spring best, wet and warm. Which is your favorite? He cooks like staff in the kitchens when the chefs away to have their babies; there is always a baby being born in Aldera. It balances out all the idiots that get killed in the forest. Did Jeanist send you on patrols too? To keep clueless hunters away from the unicorn nests? Does Eijirou know? Does Kaminari gossip with you in the potions pantry? Does Sero joke with his captain like he does with his prince? Who do you tell about your life? Mina? The queen?

Your prince detonated five meters too far to do any damage because the mage is ignition. The mage holds him up by the jaw, dazed over the lip of the platform of ice. “Now you finally know,” his long fingers trace the air around the prince’s chest where flammable sweat bursts without permission from proximity to blue heat. He jerks and grunts in the mage’s grip, “how that destructive magic of yours feels. They called me destructive too, s’ why my father tried to have me killed.”

Bakugou’s fist bursts from his side in his concussed haze but the mage, the ghost, the undead prince, heats the fingers holding his face up to scalding and on instinct he clutches at his captor’s wrist instead.

“And so I perfected destruction. I am sorry that you have to die– and that your little red thing got in the way the first time.” He grins as Bakugou thrashes against the ice, half blinded by his own unwilling sparks and half deaf from the wringing of his misfire. “My friends and I make such an unfathomable fortune from this little elixir. Enough to raise an army for hire, enough to bring down every magic-blind kingdom– maybe derealization will hit Aldera after you die. Maybe it’ll be dripped into the queen’s favorite ales as she wages war for her dead son. Wouldn’t it be beautiful? Watching the continent that relies so much on its odd affinities be forced to take up clubs and spears like animals? A world without magic.”

The mage pats his unmarred breast pocket where the vial lies. In flashes Bakugou is flush to your body on horseback. The poison beats through his heart in place of blood, just enough to steal his sparks and not enough to kill him. He is weak but safe in sunsoaked blankets beside you. You don’t need magic.

“You’ll take me there princeling. Your head will start the war that kills Takoba.”

“You’re so fucking chatty.”

As long as you’re alive, the world doesn’t need magic. You’ll show them. You’ll teach them. Bakugou’s frame begins to tremble with sparks as the last white skin under the mage’s grip burns to the muscle. He has a lesson to teach first, his very last one.

“Katsuki!” There is a guest at the cursed party. When Aizawa soars into the mage’s range behind flying blades he snatches the back of the prince’s collar, dipping, ducking, half-conscious, and clear off the edge of the platform. The fall of the guest’s blood is the only sound she makes.

The sudden plummet shocks Bakugou’s consciousness into some semblance of function, the Takoban master’s arms around him, and together they crash into the bodies piled below to break their fall. A sea of battered soldiers, Deku, Shinsou and all his armor– collectively wheeze under the weight of impact.

Queen Rei is not fast enough, her son is not fast enough, their ice doesn’t fly– his Alderans– Mina is battered among wounded civilians and traitors alike, her magic withers. Sero and Kaminari, the last soldiers, Natsuo, his father, weeping lords and ladies– the night sky shines back in Bakugou’s eyes.

The image is framed by it, stars, always. A blue mage unleashes hellfire from his jaw to start a war. The body of Aldera’s Captain, blades and arms drawn close to her face, launches off the catwalks like she might have learned to fly, like she might be a dragon.

Your silk dress is torn at your knees, the bodice ripped to tatters, and your prince’s cape is woven in strips around your chest and the wound there. Your body arcs with the promise of a deadly impact. You hang in the stars the moment that time freezes for him, like a painting his mother would wear. The hunter is caked in her own blood. You are beautiful above him, eyes the color of arson. You are greed like he’s never seen. You are ten years old in the bailey on a rainy day and you are finally victorious with a guttural cry and a squire pinned in mud beneath your staff.

“I can’t take more than you have Y/n. This could kill you.”

The cape does its best to bandage the leaking wound under your shoulder. Your halberd and its marksman missed your heart, missed both lungs, and still punched you through the collarbone, blade doused with poison.

“How badly do you want to live?” The doctor had asked, fingers trembling. One hand clutched the spear your body pushed out with two rounds of recovery magic.

War hummed outside the closet Ochako used to hide you. How did you ever have the energy to dance peruro? “Will is dwindling,” you’d groaned back. You reached for the princess who nodded in her silly beautiful ballgown and took up your hand with her mother’s ferocity. The three of you held your breath in the dark. The sky would learn to kneel.

Your first dagger bends inside the mage’s back as it hits bone and the second is swung and retched like sunrise, through his throat. It would have killed him too, had the heat off his skin not melted the metal to its hilt in your fist.

The ghost makes a point to grasp you tight when he reaches over his shoulders and snatches up silk. He doesn’t forget to warm his hands up to branding. “Monkey–” he gasps at the exact same moment as the great ballroom window shatters behind you both into thousands of violent shards. You snatch something before you go, tucked away inside your bandages. Red feathers punch through the immediate chill of midnight sea air and you are yoked into much more temperate arms.

Captain Hawks beams above you, “You called?” His lips form the words you can’t hear over his speed and you are all too quickly tossed, wound yowling, out of his grip and over a bridge made of ice. The hands that catch you this time reek of caramel.

Clingy, you swell. Landing is the worst part as always. Your prince hits the far edge of the throne area on sparking boots and swerves circles on their heels until the momentum dies enough to let him straighten. Blood trickles from one ear and the skin at the underside of his jaw is burnt and bubbled in the shape of four long fingers and a thumb. The hands under your thighs won’t release you. Not without a promise. “Get out,” he breathes, “disengaged, run.”

“You’re welcome.” He shakes his head and you with him, smiling, “Don’t go where I can’t see you, Highness.”

Rei catches the threat before you do and her ice pierces the back of a man in blue satin racing closer with a longsword in hand. It is a horrible thing to jump from your prince’s arms. Shuzenji was right, your heart might not make it. Your prince crowds you away from screams of fire and the threat of veiled assassins, but he is bleeding all over his fine clothes. His chest threatens to burst from its vest and send its sun-shaped buttons out like birdseed. It’s impossible to focus over the whip of wind in the now-open ballroom above the sea. You’ve lost too much blood.

“Old man!” Captain Hawks screams over every hellish iteration of flame mage’s attacks. His blue fire, horrifyingly, is searching just for you. Red wings swoop, the captain is a swallow hunting for a perch, “Wake up! Your Majesty!”

The king’s men have done well to protect him. They have swarmed his giant useless body to keep attackers away, they have fallen at his feet in droves and piles while he stares through blue fire. Shuzenji was much the same, frozen at just the sight.

“King Enji!”

“Please!”

The blue mage’s voice creaks like a campfire. His body is losing the fight with his magic and you have never seen something so horrifying. Obviously the nightblue suit is magic, but his flesh blacks like meat in patches the longer his fire rages from mouth, hand, and chest, “Well?” Orange light crackles just slightly at the sound almost a voice, “Father?”

The awful syllables are punctuated with flame. The last chandelier shatters, the queen and her son choke on the heat thrown towards them before they can react. Traitors are caught in the cross as the mage makes to kill his family. His horrible family. His horrible father suddenly offers red fire up just as high as his wife’s melting wall. The king’s face is still hollow but light licks his edges and the mage is thrilled for long enough to forget about you.

Defense is bleak. Kaminari can only electrocute so many turncoats before the puddle of champagne he’s using as conductor dries up. Mina is barely conscious; she’s been hit by something, and Sero makes as many trips as possible with a bruised Shoto to evacuate unconscious guests before he comes back for his friend. There’s no way to tell how many traitors were among the ranks of the castle tonight. It’s impossible to count how many remain, hiding under the guise of injury, and how many have snuck deeper into the castle to wreak the mage’s havoc. Bodies litter the floor.

“Eijirou?” Your prince whispers as he both keep you tight behind him and traces the path of the king’s errant flames. Enji’s fire arcs like the crash of waves into a melting, smiling mage alone above the dancefloor.

“With Uraraka and the princess.”

Aizawa never got back up. Deku carries him out the crack in the doors alongside his prince and the last of their refugees. Instead, Shinsou is the general leading Takobans through their ranks to retrieve their royals. Not a single reinforcement has come from the depths of the castle besides a bleeding foreign captain.

Bakugou nods and instead of threading a path of escape through your fingers, you watch him. You reach for him.

Hawks abuses blindspots like a demon and primary feathers become blood red swords faster than opponents can counter. He’s not fireproof though, and the mage must know because the winged captain hasn’t been able to land once since arriving. Blue and red flames wash overhead, spurred by the air off the sea through the broken window and mers if it’s not colder than death when you’re not dodging meteors.

“Highness.” Your hands catch the swell of his temples when he turns to face you. He is even more the Sun soaked all in blood and his brows are desperate with thought. “No one’s coming.”

You think he tries to reach for you, "And we're going home." You think he really does mean it.

You nod in the shadow of debris he’s tried to hide you in before you move away, before you smile, before you command the sky, "Yessir."

Sharp under his right arm, you drop, pinch the wrist of the silent assassin behind him and drive forward until her elbow breaks. The next seaglass woman doesn’t stand a chance. She throws a punch towards your bandaged shoulder and with all the momentum her body contains, you wrench your palm under her chin and over her head. She’s gasping on her back just in time to avoid the canonfire your prince releases to cut down the men with their weapons raised to you. He’s hiding injuries. You shouldn’t be faster on the draw in this state.

“Cover Shinsou’s retreat!” The sun will obey you. You call back as his face falls. Does he know? How hard it is to leave him here– do you hide your heart properly? Did you do a good job?

It is exciting to be alive again. Traitor-soldiers fall to your simple defenses. The joint lock of a wrist or shoulder and a brief stint with the air over your back is enough to keep men down. Training you mastered at ten will bend a kingdom to your will. If the flame mage needs Alderans for war, he will fight for you, you will do, and the others will have time to escape. Your prince is calling your name. Explosions shower the path you’re carving through the ballroom with golden sparks. It was a decent party. Peruro– Bakugou, your prince is a wonderful dancer.

“Captain!” Your Alderans hold shock like water out of a sieve. The three of them stare after you, Mina slumped with an arm over Sero’s shoulder, Kaminari with his arms raised in attack ahead of them. It feels so good. The mage’s soldiers attack anything that moves, you’ve always hated it here, and it feels good too, to strike them. You don’t need a weapon, you couldn’t properly hold on in this state. The last pieces of your halberd smolder between corpses. The air is a tangle of limbs in your wake. You are Aldera’s Red Captain, back from the dead. Attackers in blue silk fall under your dancing shoes.

King Enji finally takes an offensive step and claps his hands to bring two crashing plumes of fire together on either side of the mage as he dances down the last of Rei’s ice. The force of the impact is purple and white out the window over the sea. The castle must be breathing fire, must look like a dragon from the town below, like Alderans were invited to the party.

You relieve a man of his shortsword and only regret for a moment, turning tight and running him through with it. The meat of your shoulder weeps with exertion.

Shinsou will force the queen and her family through the crack in the ballroom door, he has her under a shield now, racing. Your friends will follow, Hawks– he– the captain hits the ground like a horrible beat of thunder in your path, his wings singed in both red and blue. You jerk your head back to the war of flames overhead.

The blue mage takes advantage of the shadow of the catwalks in moonlight and his father fires indiscriminately upwards. Ceiling crumbles. The overwhelming scent of the ocean pulls in howls and gusts of wind through the shattered holes in the room. If you were stronger you would tackle the ghost back off the cliff into the sea.

“Y/n!”

“Fall back! The king– he’ll–!”

No one else can tell just how badly the ghost is melting. When you struck him, nothing burnt. You could cling tight just like the night in the gardens. The heat only came to his skin when he needed it to– to burn your prince, to catch your knife. It cannot exist all at once, he is not the surface of the sun, he is in pain. He begs and bargains for his magic. He is a monster but he is much more easily killed than you. The only horror here is in how badly Takoba hates its king and how easy it was to ensure no one came to help him.

“Touya!” You scream over the boom of crown molding cracking the floor to pieces nearby. You heard it from the queen, “Prince Touya!” Tight in your fingers and high overhead, you hold the vial you plucked from his breast pocket.

Suddenly his father is much less interesting. Blue fire and a midnight suit dive for you but you have studied dragons. You lurch behind the closest mountain of debris because marble does not conduct heat well; it hardly even wilts as blue bears down on it from every sweltering direction. You crouch through hell, through the screams of your name, through the mage’s last breath and dive out of cover the second his magic pauses for air. The king is quick to charge across the floor now that his son has landed and the stolen vial is tucked back tight between your bandages.

Pearl hot flames lick your silk hem and you hardly leap to the platform of the throne fast enough to avoid either fate, red or blue, mage or king. The dance peruro is destructive. You twist out of the path of a thrown dagger and roll when the floor gives out beneath your shoes. Fire only dreams of touching you. You are soaked in the warm puddles that remain of Rei’s wall, and up again. Run, to every corner of the room, make the mage look for you, and let the blind king kill everyone in your way.

The last Todoroki clears the crack in the elven doors under Shinsou’s orders. It was a beautiful, horseshit party.

Stars every color of the rainbow pour like tears through the fire of the night as a soldier takes you off your feet. They are wild, face burnt from ear to nose, and their blade would have driven through your throat hard enough to shatter if Bakugou hadn’t hurtled them out the window and into the sea. He glows like fairylight at every place sweat pools. You don’t realize he’s carrying you, running, sprinting, because you don’t realize how much blood you’ve lost– how many pieces of you Takoba took on your warpath.

Whose turn is it to apologize?

There is cheering, someone calling you think. When flames lick the prince’s heels he covers your head with a magic-calloused hand. You’re bleeding onto his pretty clothes and Shuzenji was right.

The prince vaults over a falling chandelier with magic on the balls of his feet. He’s faster than before, he’s not growling or screaming, but he’s still alive under the hand you press to his chest. You knew he’d follow you. You think you’re at least owed one or two chances to play general because in just a few more jerking strides your prince, and you against him, break clear through the elven door as if from guns. The last two Alderans almost free.

You aren’t awake to note the path refugees take through the castle. Not awake to share Shinsou’s anxiety around every corner or to count the bodies in the halls. Bakugou carries you deeper into the bowels of Takoba among his fleeing friends. He keeps you safe in strong arms and you no longer plan on dying.

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#annotations #also pspsps pomme you should ask me about the fic im working on rn :)

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