#as in like; otherworldly (bc they are insane on their own ways)

[chuchuscoolhat]

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ memory foam ❞

�� ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x fem .ᐟ reader

synopsis ─ soldier boy teaches you how to roll a blunt and then makes you hold it between your lips while he fucks you into insanity. just filth honestly bc this man is filthy and i love it

warnings .ᐟ cussing, light misogyny throughout (i mean,, come on), v light dirty talk, masturbation f receiving, hair-pulling, grinding, edging/overstimulation, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex p in v. i feel like these warnings have y’all opening this fic with a therapist on speed dial. if i forgot anything pls lmk!

word count ~ 7.3k (this was supposed to be a drabble 😀)

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Lithe trails of smoke crept over the horizon of your laptop screen, which called your attention toward Ben’s seated figure at the small, rounded table near the kitchen. You reached to lower your laptop screen an inch—just enough to properly reveal the schemes unravelling beneath your boyfriend’s hunched over frame. You didn’t doubt that he was currently unravelling some recent haul of self-indulgent narcotics because as much as you loved your severely traumatised, addict boyfriend, he didn’t have any other tasteful way to pass time. Well, when he wasn’t ploughing you into the mattress and pummelling your senses into an otherworldly abyss of pleasure, of course.

Ben had slipped into the apartment an hour ago with that dubious, white plastic bag in clutch—no print to identify any luxurious takeaway you’d have killed to plunge into your gurgling stomach. You’d been tempted to ask about it then, but he’d entered with such a thick swathe of broodiness cramping his brows that you’d laid off the interrogation entirely. Though, just by stealing a single glance of the bag in its own, unassuming simplicity, it could have branded itself as some sketchy stash of drugs he’d picked up from one of his regular dealers on the way home.

You honed in on the man of the hour, your unflattering nosiness taking the cake on the mental debate of whether or not you should interfere with Ben’s activities. It was a debate that had never happened to begin with because meddling in anything and everything that he did was practically your brand—no questions asked. You’d once called it a loving obsession, but Ben had called it a hounding cock block on his highs. You’d been quick to rebrand your pestering of him as your own guilty addiction, and he hadn’t had much to say in response to that. He had his addictions, and you had yours—him. Oh, he so must’ve regretted accommodating you into his life.

Your boyfriend’s sharp features were currently kneaded into a focused frown, his head tilted down to where he emptied out the plastic packet onto the table. Your chin perked with sly interest, no further surprise to be unwrapped when you glimpsed a sprawl of paper and herbs. Drugs, as expected, but nothing nearly as hard as his usual indulgences. Your attention flickered up to the blunt currently clutched between his lips—the bane of your existence—before you lowered your focus back down to the table, where his busy hands alternated between segregating the devious mess and popping out his smoking stick to dispel a pull.

You didn’t need to squint hard to confidently label said herbs as weed—once the distinct scent left his lips to shroud the modest apartment and assault your sensitive nose, it was a dead giveaway. You’d never been much of a fan of smoking to begin with, and weed might’ve been the rankest pick of it all, but it’s something you’d gradually grown tolerant of. It’s not like you had much of a say in the matter, anyway, given that your boyfriend had his lips wrapped around a cig almost as often as he had them wrapped around you. It was a relationship that had existed long before yours, so who were you to complain, really?

Besides, this was his apartment, which meant that his guilty pleasures were anything but your business. And you doubted that your complaint would manage a graze of his ears before his cock would plug your lips to shut you the hell up about it. He didn’t much like when you had an attitude about his aforementioned hobbies.

“Ah, shit!” Ben exclaimed angrily around the blunt’s body—a muffled sound that banished smoke from his pursed lips. You watched as he tossed aside the plastic packet, seizing his tempter by the throat as he thudded his palm against the table. “Fuckin’ dickless prick sold me short,” he grumbled to nobody in particular, releasing the blunt for a disgruntled exhale before his lips took to it once more like his next, dire breath.

You plugged your lips at his temper tantrum, throttling a chuckle you knew would be severely misplaced during this fit of his. You couldn’t help it, though. Ben loved to pretend that he was ‘man enough’ to be unbothered by trivial things, but it never took much to get under his skin. The irony was so palpable that you could’ve poked and prodded at it with ridicule. “What’re you doing?” You called to him with an accentuated chirp to your tone—you’re curious, oblivious, not probing.

Ben’s eyes lifted from the table for a second to glance in your direction, where you sat comfortably cushioned against the headboard of his bed. His glare hovered for a few measly seconds, holding no adoration at this particular time. It made you utter a mental damn. At most, he’d give you a wink or a scheming narrowing of his eyes that spoke all sorts of dirty he’d have loved to work you through. But he merely turned back to the task at hand, freeing the blunt from his tightly-wrung lips.

Yeah, women are the moody ones, you remarked mentally. What a chuckle-fest.

The supe gave a hefty exhale, smoke streaming out in a slow gust that told you a somber story of a shit-filled day. His whole demeanour was off-put. A good girlfriend would’ve asked him about it, but a smarter one—like yourself—knew err on the side of caution. You’d long since learned not to pester him about his emotions because, to quote Ben: ‘only pussies hold hands and waste daylight wailin’ about this ‘nd that. Me? I ain’t strokin’ anybody’s cock with some me too bullshit. You gotta act the man and suck it up.’

Yeah, you weren’t going to open that can of worms again.

Without sparing you another glance, Ben jerked his head in your direction. “Get over here,” he demanded distractedly. “It’s ‘bout time I teach ya the hustle o’ this shit.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll leave the lung cancer to you,” you poked light-heartedly, but you shifted your laptop aside to scamper across the mattress regardless. Unfortunately, you were the type to spend any given chance at your boyfriend’s side, and it didn’t matter how trivial the activity was—it was all about the quality time. Ben was overly tolerant of your clinginess, so much so that you almost thought he enjoyed the attention more than you did. But that wasn’t anything he’d ever admit to, were it true to begin with.

You ambled across the open-plan apartment towards his smoke-enveloped figure, and upon reaching the table, you pulled out the chair opposite him to take up his company. All the while, Ben’s attention remained fixed on his concoctions, never once straying from the table to acknowledge that you’d joined him.

“Why would I need to know how to do any of this, anyway? You know I don’t smoke,” you asked once you sat yourself down, hand swivelling through the air to disperse the suffocating haze of the weed, lingering under your nose like an intoxicating fart. You watched his free hand sort the dried and shredded weed into evenly-sized piles with one of your ancient loyalty cards—a card you’d lost a few weeks back. The bastard must’ve nicked it from your purse. And knowing him, he’d probably used it for plenty more than sorting weed.

“No,” he agreed, “but I do. Besides, it’s somethin’ every fine woman such as yourself oughta know. It’s not usually what women waste their time learnin’, but I’m sure I could have ya mastering this shit in no time. You’re a surprisingly quick learner,” he murmured busily, pausing only to secure the blunt between his lips once more.

You didn’t know whether to feel offended at that observation, or to accept it with the knowledge that Ben didn’t usually hand out compliments—even backhanded ones—outside of, well, being inside of you. You dismissed the thought with a flick of your eyes, but soon, you were drawn to his face once more. You could have grown jealous with the amount of time his lips spent wrapped around that paper-wrapped crap, but you’d long since laid off the visuals. He enjoyed your pouting way too much—always finding a way to ridicule you for it.

“Why the sudden insistence that I learn this crap?” You asked.

After a deep pull, Ben retrohaled the smoke off to the side, conscious not to direct it onto your intolerant senses. “Cause it sure hits the spot when your girl can slip you a win after the day’s been a fuckin’ ball-buster,” he mumbled.

“Or,” you countered, head tilting with a pretence of consideration as you watched him sort the piles of weed into small plastic bags. “Here’s a thought—and just humour me, would you? You could make yourself one,” you finished, hands coming forward to fold onto the table as your eyes flickered up to Ben expectantly.

He lifted his head to fix you with peeved eyes, the card’s rim stilling against the last herded pile of weed as his free hand plucked the stick from his lips. “The hell you think I been doin’ all this time?” He challenged pointedly. The blunt’s ignited end pulsed with heat—as if to emphasise his words. “Is it too much to ask that you fix me a goddamn escape after a long fuckin’ day?”

“It is in that tone, Mister,” you scoffed, leaning yourself across the table in an attempt to pluck the blunt from his fingers, but he was quick to catch you at the wrist. Your lip quirked at the force with which he restrained you, your eyes slurring up to his with a heavy, seductive whisk of your lashes.

Ben always caught the intention behind your every act of defiance. He enjoyed it, even, despite the permanent hint of dour in his expression. “Hands off my shit,” he warned, his pretty green eyes drilling into yours to emphasise his point. “Don’t make me fuck the nerve right outta you—you know better.”

You took your lower lip into an amused bite, enjoying the way you so easily seemed to rile him up. Yeah, your boyfriend was a Supe, but it was moments like this that made you feel like you held all the power—and you revelled in it. ‘Nobody controls me’, your ass. You had Ben wrapped around your finger. He knew it, too, he just wouldn’t admit it because what man wants to admit that he’s pussy-whipped? No, he’d rather bathe in denial by fucking you senseless each night, smothering your head into the sheets and coaxing his name from your foul lips so that he felt he had some semblance of control over the way you made him feel.

You succumbed to his possessive grasp, leaning your body further across the table as your head tilted in cheek. “Do I know better?” You absolutely did, and so did he. But part of the fun—part of what made this dynamic between the two of you so riveting, is that you pretended to act stupid, and Ben eagerly indulged it as an opportunity to condescend you and further inflate his toxic ego. And something more.

The supe’s lip quirked in amusement as he glared you down, but the sentiment didn’t reach high enough to mould his eyes into kindness. “Gonna play it like that, hm?” he murmured, bringing the blunt back to his lips before he leaned further into your proximity, his lips brushing against yours with the tease of a kiss. But he didn’t follow through with his unspoken promise. Instead, his lips parted only to huff the smoke directly into your face.

Your nose scrunched at the scent, your free hand lifting from the table to shoo away the smoke. “Ben!” You protested, but his grip on you didn’t budge until the intrusive fog thinned out into the rest of the room. You gave a light cough at being a forced second party to his smoking, and that’s when he finally released your wrist—more like discarded it in a careless toss. You retreated with a huff and sat yourself back down. “Dick!”

“Pussy,” he retorted through a shit-eating smirk, but he quickly came to realise that the amusement was wholly one-sided when he glimpsed your ruffled brows. There were very few times you could have convinced him that his actions weren’t funny. “Ah, come on,” he drawled, attention lowering back to the weed as he suckled on the smoking stick once more. “You know ya love it,” he mumbled.

“Oh, bite me,” you murmured lightly, crossing your arms as you watched him continue his work. You could have chosen to pout a little longer, but you’d have been naive to settle down with somebody like Ben and not expect him to pull a nasty stunt now and again. Besides, you did like him mean. The subtle glow that beamed briefly within the crook of your thighs was testament to that.

“You ever roll a blunt before?” Ben muttered, eyes downturned to where his hands began prepping an irregularly squared piece of paper. The question was sheer stupidity—so much so that you felt the the weight of the frown on your brows as you parted your lips to answer him with far too much eager spunk. But Ben pulled the cancer stick from his lips and interjected without missing a breath.

“Just pullin’ your leg—‘course ya haven’t. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the fuckin’ Mother Reverend of the Church of Holy Smokes.” At that jab, his eyes lifted to yours with a smugness that wound his lips thin.

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, your arms unfolding to rest your hands against the table. “You can keep shitting on me, Benjamin, but let’s not forget just how ancient you are. Once your light’s snuffed out, old man, maybe—just maybe, I’ll consider learning how to smoke, and it’ll be your ashes I probe in that damn ashtray.” Oh, how the roles would reverse.

Ben neglected the piece of paper he’d been gripping and straightened himself from the table. He leaned back into his chair with a gruff chuckle, his gaze raking you over with a light air of amusement. He plucked the blunt from his lips and hovered over the table as he gave a compliant cock of his head—a gesture that said, yeah, I could get behind that.

“Just make sure you put the tray somewhere I can get a good view of your ass,” he retorted with a brisk wink before he pressed the cigar’s inflamed nose into the ashtray loitering beside his hand. “And the tray better not be this ugly fuckin’ thing. Get me somethin’. . . quaint—none o’ this modern day lifeless shit and a half that’s got fuckin’ pussy power or some ball-less, feministic propo shit like that scribbled on the side.”

You narrowed your eyes mischievously. “Only you will demand everything your way even in death,” you chuckled, then you tilted your head inquisitively. “So you’re telling me that if I had to get my breasts casted with clay to make two matching bowls for your ashes, you’d have a problem with that? Is it too modern for you?”

Ben’s brows hoisted up a look of consideration, then his lips pursed with content acceptance. “Baby,” he drawled. “You do that and I’ll be back to fuck you in your dreams every. goddamn. night,” he promised.

“I guess that might help me not to forget you,” you retorted cheekily.

“Damn right,” he mumbled cockily. “Can’t forget a dick as givin’ as this one, anyway—and you’d be kiddin’ yourself otherwise. Little cock-slut like you? You were made to memorise every inch of my dick like a butt-print in a shitty velvet sofa.” He birthed a grin so condescending that it barely left room for you to breathe.

Smug, obscene asshole, you scoffed silently, but you couldn’t deny the truth behind his claim, and you had countless memories to serve as evidence. Ben knew that—it was the singular thing that warranted his sheer audacity to boast. For lack of better words, you flashed him the finger before bundling yourself back up, arms crossed against your chest as a ruffled gesture for him to continue his little project.

He made an amused noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle before shifting in his seat and guiding his hands back to the concoction before him. “C‘mon, take a look,” he urged, plucking up some of the shredded weed between his fingers and gingerly placing it onto the squared paper. He took a moment to prod along the scattered herbs until a coherent line was formed atop the material. “This right here,” he said, prodding the paper, “s’called rollin’ paper. Gotta wrap it around the weed real nice and tight, like the foreskin of a sexually-abstained father of the church. Or some creakin’, ol’ geezer.”

“So like you, then?” You interjected, and you could’ve sworn you heard the snap of his neck as his eyes darted up to scorn you.

“Callin’ me old when you’re the one who can’t walk after one night in my bed is a li’l comical, don’tcha think?” He retorted, eyes lowering to where he rolled his thumb along the ball of his index finger to dislodge the clinging weed scraps. “Man,” he laughed in disbelief. “You got helluva mouth on ya.”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called?” You chirped sarcastically, rubbing your lips together as though smearing some chapstick along the edges. You knew it was a stupid, bratty punch to throw, but you thought it worth it if it would coax any sort of reaction from Ben—and it did.

He glanced up at you from beneath hitched brows, pushing out a chuckle so forced, it could’ve starred the backtrack of some poorly made sitcom. But the faux amusement in his expression was dropped in an instant, his chin making an impatient jut in your direction—like the firm finger of a mother’s chide. “Shut the fuck up and pay attention.”

Your eyes widened in mock as you muttered a “yes, sir,” and turned your attention back to the table, your heading craning with far too much curiosity for your liking. Your eyes trailed every whisk and wander of his skilled fingers as he prepped another paper like the last. “Does it matter how much weed’s in a single blunt?”

Cautiously, Ben moved back to the first paper, his lips subconsciously jutting into a focused pout. It was something he did often without a notice, and you couldn’t help but savour the scene with a subtle grin. It was adorable, but for the sake of preserving the clueless tradition, you never said anything about it. You knew he’d find some way to get butt-hurt over you pointing it out, and then you’d be stuck with him forging some permanent, stoic expression to fend off the horrors of being called adorable.

He anchored the topmost corners of the rolling paper with his middle fingers before grabbing the bottom corners between his thumb and index finger, finally folding the square in half. “‘Bout a gram or two’ll do,” he finally replied. “But the paper’s already sized, so it’s just gotta be enough to fit in it. . .” he murmured busily, trailing off as he focused his attention onto carefully lifting the assembly from the table—determined not to spill any of the contents and further rob himself of the stock he’d been sold short on.

“Now,” Ben cleared his throat with utmost enthusiasm, his eyes momentarily lingering on the wrap before they flickered over to you with a scheme glinting in their green depths. Just what the hell was he up to now? “We gotta wet this baby real good, so why don’tcha stick out that tongue o’ yours for me, yeah? Lend an old man a helpin’ hand once in a while.”

He held the makeshift blunt tenderly between his thumbs and index fingers as he presented it in your direction with an annoyingly smug furnish to his handsome features.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his request. “You do it,” you told him through a chuckle, pressing your index finger against his nearest hand to gently nudge the dissembled blunt back in his direction. “You’re the pro of the fucking cancer sticks, so you show me how it’s done. Like you said.”

Ben cocked his head in slight disappointment, a smirk pitching up the corner of his lips as he withdrew the blunt with a light huff. “To think you’re usually all I can do it myself, Ben, I don’t need your help, Ben,” he mocked deeply, which caused your face to contort with a hint of offence.

“I don’t sound like th—“

“Yeah, you do,” he cut you short, the smirk on his lips playing into a full-blown grin as he drank in your affronted pout. “You and your fuckin’ feminist high,” he scoffed, bringing the paper up to his lips. “Now, stuff it and watch, ‘cause I’m only gonna show you once—and I expect ya to nail it off the fuckin’ bat.”

You hitched a brow at his subtle threat. “Or what?” You challenged.

He left that question unanswered—verbally, at least. But he fixed you with an intense glare as his tongue slipped past his lips to drag a slow, accentuated line along the edge of the paper, and you knew that to be answer enough. A promise—and hardly one of a good time when he was calling all the shots with the intent to punish you. Still, you felt your core jolt at that singular gesture, your thighs discreetly pressing together with the memory of that very movement that must’ve become etched into your folds by now. That teasing bastard, getting you all hot and bothered just for the sake of it.

When he reached the end of the jagged material, he drew the line back up one more time before his tongue retreated back to the concealment behind his lips. He lowered the concoction to the table, gaze still trained on you. Then, with a beckoning gesture of his chin, he said, “get over here.”

You obliged silently, quickly—guided by your arousal more than your own will, if you were being honest. Your chair screeched in protest as you pushed yourself up from your seat and slipped around the circumference of the table towards Ben’s seated frame. You’d barely reached his side when he freed a hand to eagerly outstretch and receive you, his large palm snaking along the small of your back to hook around your waist. He pulled you into his lap, legs spread in a wide v to comfortably accommodate your frame onto his.

As you settled yourself onto his lap, you made a point to dramatically shimmy your ass into the crook of his legs, causing him to grunt as you ground yourself against his prominent manhood. His free hand snaked over your thigh to settle at the tender, inner skin with a warning squeeze, his lips coming to press against your ear.

“Careful, baby,” he murmured lowly—a gruff sound that sent a jolt directly to your already-compromised core. And it was hard to ignore your arousal with the added stimulation of his stubbled jaw grating the sensitive skin of your cheek.

You turned your jaw partially, causing his soft lips to trace a seductive line along your cheekbone. “Always am,” you murmured in return, a cheeky grin beaming through as your gaze flickered down to his lips. Those darn lips. A taste you’d never get sick of, despite your tendency to grow bored of things rather quickly. Maybe you were no better than Ben—a shameless addict infatuated with the highs, only, your highs were being fondled by him.

For a moment, Ben entertained your play with a second of silence, and you were almost hopeful to feel his lips snag onto yours, but instead, they retreated from your jaw and left you in a state of hot disappointment.

“Pay attention,” he ordered, removing the hand he’d burrowed at your thigh to frame your jaw firmly. He turned your head forward and downwards, forcing your attention onto the makeshift blunt gripped in his other hand. His thumb trailed to your lips, kneading the tender skin aimlessly before slipping his hand from your jaw entirely. “Stick your tongue out.”

Obediently, you did as told, your tongue slipping through until you felt too ridiculous to go further.

“Atta girl,” he praised, your waist now straddled by both his arms as he held the corners of the makeshift blunt in his fingers and lifted it to your dangling tongue. “Now, I want you to lick it, just like I showed ya—and don’t crap out on showin’ it a good time, yeah?”

You gave a small nod and leaned your head down to meet the paper with your tongue, starting at the left corner. When the tip of your tongue made contact with the sheet, you could feel the cool, lingering trace of Ben’s saliva. It felt so primal, but you knew that he was enjoying every second of it—you lapping up his taste like an eager mutt, so you decided to give him one hell of a show.

You pressed your tongue against the paper more firmly now, and you began to drag a slow, sensual line toward the other corner, making sure to deliver a quick flick over Ben’s waiting thumbnail. He made a hald-amused, half-entertained noise, but waited patiently as you retraced the line back to the starting point.

Pulling back your tongue, you smacked your lips triumphantly. “All wet now,” you said.

“Bet you are,” he chuckled lazily, fingers moving to seal the paper and twist the ends into a reputable blunt. He brought the finished product up to your lips, urging the nozzle between them. “Be a good girl and hold onto that for me.”

You pulled your lips inward to deny the entrance of the blunt, turning your jaw to reject the offer. “No, thanks,” you said, but Ben wasn’t having it.

You felt his hand stroke up the curve of your thigh before forcing way beneath the hem of your shorts and underwear, where his fingers stroked a rough line through your folds. You gasped at the feel of his cool fingers playing at your hot core, and before you could process his foul play, his other hand was quick to push the fresh blunt between your parted lips.

“You talk too fuckin’ much,” he murmured against your ear, delivering a harsh squeeze to your clit. Your lips tightened around the blunt and you moaned into the smoking stick, eyes screwing shut as your head collapsed back into the crook of his neck. He pressed a hasty kiss to your temple, and you knew that it was more of a branding than a gesture of adoration. You were his to cherish, exploit and discard, all at once.

“What, you gonna tell me you didn’t see that comin’?” he chuckled lowly, the mocking sound vibrating against the crown of your head. “Been actin’ the brat this entire time, just hopin’ I’ll shut you the fuck up, huh? Yeah, I heard ya—loud and clear, baby.”

Your lips tightened around the blunt as Ben brutalised the pace of his fingers between your folds, vigorously toying with your clit like it were the worn strings of the guitar he couldn’t seem to master the tuning of. Your lips tightened around the blunt as his finger prodded at just the right spot, an explosion of pleasure slinging your thighs into a weakened and sprawled mess. All control over your body seemed to retreat as you slumped further into his strong frame, which cocooned you like it were your last hope at survival. Oh, you were done for, all right.

“You like that, huh?” Ben cooed into your ear, his free hand sliding beneath your tank to grab ahold of your breasts. He palmed both in a rough, careless motion, then settled on one with a teasing pinch to your nipple. The combined stimulation of his toying at both ends rendered you so speechless that you couldn’t even salvage a coherent moan, so you laid there in complete arrest, succumbing fully to your boyfriend’s mean ministrations. “What, nothin’ to say now? Not even a fuckin’ please or thank you? I know chivalry died when I was buried on ice, but I didn’t think the women had lost their manners, too.”

In all honesty, you could barely comprehend your boyfriend’s words through your numbed haze. Your vision slurred into darkness as your eyes fluttered closed, your saliva beginning to seep into the blunt’s contents as your lips clutched it like a lifeline. Ben released your breast, but the weaving of his fingers down below didn’t stutter. You felt his free fingers graze both your temples in sequence, where his knuckle pushed back the foremost strands of hair that had slipped the keep of your ears. Your heart fluttered an inch at what you thought to be an intimate gesture—which he gifted very few and far between. But knowing the type of man Ben was should have clipped your wings of hope and had you grounded from the get-go.

Suddenly, his hand trailed through your hair and fastened through as many strands as he could collect. Then, with a smooth roll of his wrist, he twined it into a harsh grip, your neck arching at an angle you couldn’t have achieved out of free-will. A weak protest slurred within your throat, which made Ben utter a sound half way between a low laugh and a scoff—the sound so demeaning it flushed your cheeks red. His exploitation hurt—but at the same time, it felt so good, so much so that your body did anything but pull away from his touch.

“Now this is a view I can get behind—you, all pretty and practically fallin’ apart on my fingers,” Ben murmured, his head lowering to your ear so that the sharp button of his nose nuzzled at your temple. “Fuck, I could take you right here, right now,” he continued sultrily. “You want that, sweetheart? Want me to give you exactly what you’ve been cravin’ all fuckin’ day? All you gotta do is ask. Nicely, you know, stroke my cock with your good-doer attitude. That achievable for a brat like you, hm?”

For all the questions asked, you couldn’t offer one damn answer—not with your lips plugged by Ben’s newest fix. You moved a hand to reach for the blunt, eager to pave way for the word that would lay your urges to rest for the night, but the hand he’d buried between your legs were quick to come up and seize your wrist in disapproval. A hot, disgruntled tut from Ben streamlined your ear, but all you could focus on was the sudden barrenness between your legs, a cold neglect left in the wake of his hand.

You weren’t afforded the opportunity to mourn that loss for long before he had both your palms pinned flat onto the table in front of you, the hand in your hair tugging further so that your upper body became suspended within a ruthless game of tug and war. Only, the two contestants—both his hands—were playing for the same team. Ben’s. The advantage was far from yours.

“Dirty stunt,” he hummed almost admirably, his nose tracing your jaw to place a single, devouring kiss over the arch of your neck. You felt the way his lips lapped at your skin in a large motion, like he craved to garner every inch of you in that single touch. He solidified that point with a harsh nibble, the sort that would pucker your skin for a good few minutes, before he brought himself back to your ear. “You don’t get to use your words for this, baby. Your right to an opinion has been worn out for the day, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough of all your fuckin’ chitchat. You wanna get fucked, you’re gonna show me just how much y’want it,” he husked with a dramatic pause, then added in a low murmur, “with your body. Got that?”

With your head practically immobilised by his grip, you echoed a muffled mhm. Your response seemed to be satisfactory enough because he relented his hold—just enough to relieve your pipes so that breathing came with a little more ease.

“Atta girl. It’s gets my dick salutin’ when you’re all obedient,” he praised. His claim was firmly backed by the bulge you felt growing beneath you. It pressed between your thighs like a brash beckoning, and it was enough to cause all the heat that had dissipated between your folds to re-emerge in full force. “Well? The hell you waitin’ for?” He asked in a tone a lot louder—and firmer—this time around.

You pushed out a clueless noise, which made Ben shift a thigh beneath you. Suddenly, the bulk of his leg was hoisted up between your own, the blunt force striking your core at just the right angle that sent a jolt up your body. You gasped a breathless sound into the blunt, your teeth burrowing into the softening paper, and your eyes screwed shut with the pleasure currently coursing your entire being.

“Get that body o’ yours movin’, or we can call it a disappointin’ night,” he instructed. God, you couldn’t come up short after all you’d endured thus far, so instinctually, your hips began to roll against his thigh at a jagged pace, seeking out the only stimulation you could manage in your stilted position. “Yeah, that’s it,” he cooed. “All yours for the takin’, if you’ll hold out long enough to see fuckin’ rainbows. A lot like bein’ on a high, ain’t it? Got my own li’l addict in the makin’.”

He was right. Actually, you thought this felt a whole lot greater than sniffing a line that would simultaneously have you losing your sanity for a few hours. Desperate whimpers began to stew in your chest, polished with so much passion that the sounds felt saturated, almost animated. And Ben, he was devouring every second of it. You couldn’t glimpse enough of his face to say that, but going off of everything you knew about him, and how mean he liked to get with you, you absolutely knew that you were something akin to his own personal heaven right about now. Oh, he’d forsake every personal belief to follow the religion that was you—your undoing.

Almost as though your body had grown frustrated with all the prolonged teasing, your high came on at a rapid pace that made you chest heave in desperation. You felt the arousal bundle into a tightly-knit ball, just yearning to be yanked at by the singular thread that would make it come undone. But the satisfaction was plucked out of reach within seconds when Ben released the grip on your hair to grab at your thigh, forcing your hips to still against his leg. And just like that, the fire within was snuffed out.

Your lips fell loose in exhaustion, the blunt you’d been so loyal to finally making an escape and toppling into your lap. “Ben,” you pushed out frailly, the disappointment heavy on your brows.

“The nerve o’ you,” Ben scoffed, utterly dismissive of your feeble protest. He released your thigh to dip into your lap, and shortly after, he pulled up with the blunt in clutch, wasting no time in pressing it back between your lips. You fumbled with the paper for a few seconds before you finally took it in, but you knew your boyfriend would have something to show for your disobedience. “Yeah, you are a brat,” he said, the hand pinning your wrists suddenly tightening as he pulled your arms to one side, his other hand hooking around your inner thigh.

In one large and effortless motion, he managed to sling you over his lap, releasing your wrists so that you were able to grasp the legs of his chair for support. You clutched the blunt between your lips a little tighter, fighting the villainous pull of gravity, and stifled a moan at the sudden spank that struck the curves of your ass. The aftermath of that contact had your body contracted with a mixture of shock and painful arousal, air blowing from your nostrils like harsh gusts.

“Fuckin’ quiverin’ already?” He chuckled, his large palm smoothing up the fabric of your shorts until you felt every inch of your ass dimple under the cool air of the room. You felt utterly exposed. “Baby, I’m just gettin’ started with you.”

Oh, you were so fucked.

His palm came down for another assault, this time louder than the last. The raw contact echoed through the apartment, narcissistically suffocating the whimper that rattled your chest. Tears began to hoard along the rims of your eyes, but you blinked enough to scatter the moisture. You didn’t need to give him another kick out of this—some lingering stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

“Fuck, all that noise o’ yours is makin’ me lose count,” Ben scoffed. He rubbed soothing circles over your aching skin, which no doubt glowered an angry red that should have made your boyfriend feel some ounce of sympathy. But then the next words left his mouth, and you knew then that the Supe had no concept of remorse. “Guess I gotta start right at the beginning.”

You braved yourself against the rest of his spanks, your legs drawing together more and more with each touch—not from a place of pain, but from hot, embarrassing enjoyment. The slick within your folds was hard to ignore now, and it seemed to have snagged Ben’s attention because he let up on the harsh punishment, his fingers finding way beneath your shorts and drenched undies. You felt his fingers play at your slick, dragging a line all the way down to your yearning entrance.

“It’s a damn oil slick up in here,” he chuckled, his thumb teasing circles at your hypersensitive clit. “Whaddya say I give her some love, hm?” His finger dipped an inch into your entrance, as if offering a measly taste of his proposal. You rocked your hips back into him as a reply, urgently seeking out the length of his fingers. He gave a low chuckle, and to your shock, actually indulged your plea. Maybe it was your reward for finally playing by his rules.

You weren’t going to fucking question it.

Your back arched by instinct as you felt his fingers prowl into your entrance, your hands clutching the wooden legs of his chair as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The full force of multiple of his fingers should have coaxed forward some fleeting sense of pain, but you’d been so incredibly aroused for so incredibly long that your entrance welcomed him in like an open-house party. He pumped into you as deep as he could, an appreciative grunt leaving his lips as he revelled in your velvety warmth. His other hand came to wrap around the front of your neck, offering some much needed support as your strength began to collapse with each pump of his fingers.

Your whimpers became more frequent and dishevelled as he picked up the pace, his fingers curling at just the right angle. Every. Fucking. Time. Ben knew how to do the job well—a tactic that had you coming back time and time again, begging for more.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he husked out, his own voice slightly abraded by exertion. The subtle breathlessness woven through his words spurred you on even further, making you feel some type of special with the knowledge that he was giving you his all. Just to see you break. Just so that he could put you back together with cherishing kisses.

It only took a few more pumps of his fingers to have your eyes clenching in wait, your lips throttling the blunt as his fingers curled right into your blooming bundle of pleasure. And then he struck it head on, causing an explosion of colour to invade your vision. For a few seconds, you couldn’t comprehend anything beyond your own ragged breaths, your ears ringing with the overwhelming aftermath of your high. You felt your juices trickle from your entrance, and you heard the squelching as Ben slowly retreated from your entrance.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he chuckled with a minuscule, congratulatory pat to your ass. “That was one o’ your best runs yet. Think ya can handle one more round?” Ben murmured, releasing your neck to rub a soothing line down your back. You didn’t honestly think you could, and you felt the way every inch of your body ached in an answering protest, but something else tugged your chin into that subtle permission, and then the Supe had you hoisted up in his arms bridal style as he carried you to the bed.

He laid you onto the mattress rather gently, but the caution was instantly discarded as he flipped you over and tugged your hips sky-high. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts and undies, and he couldn’t have yanked them over the curves of your ass at a faster pace. Your garments were tossed to some other corner of the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as Ben freed his stoic erection. You heard him huff a breath of relief, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him whisk across his shaft with a hasty pump.

You met his eye patiently, making a point to pout around the blunt so that he couldn’t miss the visual image of your dedication to this wretched thing. It made him smirk with satisfaction, a hand coming forward to hook around your pelvis and tug you back an inch. You grunted at the rough yank, turning your head forward as you settled yourself into your folded arms. You felt his tip nestle between your ass before dipping down to glide with ease into your slicked entrance. Both his hands took up firm grip at your pelvis, his large palms fanning across your navel as he pummelled into you with a guttural noise.

“Fuck,” he spat, his length retreating only to return with a force more brutal than a last. His hands shifted across your ass, delivering a hard spank before they slunk up to the small of your back. There, he pushed your stomach into the mattress, and you burrowed further into the material with every possessive thrust of his hips. “You’re just the fuckin’ release I needed after this shitty day—and god, you never disappoint,” he breathed out.

You whimpered in response, pressing your forehead into the sheets as your fingers curled into the bedding. God, this man was overstimulating—he seemed to forget that your frail body was no match for his super-abled one. Or, he simply revelled in that fact. Either way, you were done for.

The blunt’s body quirked against your lips as you practically smothered it against the mattress, but you could hardly be arsed about that now. Ben’s figure came to hover over you, his clothed chest pressing into your back. His hands came up beside your head, frantically searching for yours, and once he found them, his fingers threaded between yours. He held you firmly as he spread your hands out in front of you, trapping you below him as he continued to drive you into the bed. The worn bed frame was creaking so loud that it was almost absurd, and you half expected one of the neighbours to blare a shut the hell up from the top of their lungs. But the only noises to be heard were the gruff moans spewing from Ben’s lips, and your own muffled whining.

The mattress wasn’t anything as fancy as memory foam, but you were sure that by now—with how brutalised Ben’s pace within you was—that the mattress would never forget. You supposed you both had that in common.

──────────────────────

a/n — i’m not gonna lie, i was starting to think this piece would NEVER see the light of day good gawd i think i have commitment issues. anyhoo, if you are a pro at making blunts, mind your business! 😭 i did a quick google search and rolled with it (pun unintended), so if something’s inaccurate you can blame google pls and ty LMAO. i’m just a non smoker girly trying to bring the drug-addled fantasies of loving soldier boy to life, as best as i possibly and very limitedly can. if this fic traumatised you im sorry (also you’re welcome). y’all know the drill, it’s 2 am—if there are typos; no there’s not.

this fic now has a complementary c.ai bot .ᐟ

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

tags — @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts

want to be apart of the taglist?

other works — the boys masterlist

© bluemerakis — do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[slasherflicks999]

new oc/sona yaaaaaay!

oh how i wish i had all those piercings (bridge come back to me💔)

can we guess where his name came from gang (suspiciously username shaped name)

i actually really enjoy his character design and i literally color picked his color pallet from a diagram(?) that shows how a bruise heals and it worked out LMAOO sooo new character design life hack

more info and lots of general yapping about him after the break if you care to read :3 and i yap a LOT i have lots to say about him bc its been a while since i genuinely developed an oc LMAO

cw for LOTS and LOTS of talk of death if you do decide to read! just in case :3

first of all you may be thinking “5’6? short king!” and i will have you know i actually made him taller than i am irl by a few inches LMAOOO whoops t boy swag will do that to ya

anyways the thing about his color pallet being based off of that of a literal bruise IS actually relevant because he is literally immortal and is CONSTANTLY getting injured like all the time. i think conveying info about characters via their color pallets is fun and i wanna do more of it so hehe. plus green and red and purple are a nice combo and it worked out very well :3 also another little note about his design: he’s a very creative and artistic person and i wanted to show that through his clothes being somehow modified and i think i did that well too. trying to properly get back into making actually decent and thoughtful character designs so im proud of myself :3

that being said his immortality causes him a SHIT load of problems. i feel like being immortal would really suck LMAO but more-so i feel like i dont see people do much with the idea of immortality in terms of horror or at least not from what i’ve seen. like im still figuring out his lore but the basics are: he has no clue who his dad is and found out he was immortal at a somewhat young age but literally his entire life he’s been viewed as just kind of off?? like he looks human and for the most part acts it but he just has certain traits that humans…. do not have. his eyes glow in pics like a nocturnal animal’s would and his teeth are suspiciously sharp and he gets weird cravings for raw meat which he can somehow digest perfectly fine with absolutely no issue but he’s not like OVERTLY some otherworldly creature he’s just a little weird. a tad strange even. possibly even kind of unsettling depending on who you ask.

and i like to imagine these are a lot of things that were present in his childhood too, like his mother would wake up to the sound of rummaging in the kitchen and find him at the ripe old age of five just gnawing at a whole raw steak in the dark. he’s just sort of always been like that and didn’t realize it was weird until he was older. (is a lot of this used as metaphors for undiagnosed neurodiversity/mental illness? …..iii dont knowwww :3 (yes) (although not every aspect of him is a total reflection of myself, he is still his own character in many respects lolol))

but in general this ends up causing him all sorts of issues in all sorts of millions of ways. for one he has sort of a fragile sense of self because he doesn’t even know what he is?? he knows he can’t just be a regular old human because of all the previously mentioned reasons and a few more, but that aside he has no idea what he is. he also doesn’t know pretty much anything about how his immortality works beyond what he’s experienced and what the others have told him during the times when he’s “dead,” he has no idea how his aging is affected by it because he seems to be aging relatively normally so far, he has no clue if he will EVER die for good/if there’s any way to kill him, he has no idea how his body seems to heal the most insane fatal injuries as if nothing happened, and much more quickly than a normal human would, he kinda doesn’t know jack shit about himself and it pisses him off a little bit!

it also has just caused him lots of trauma as you can probably imagine. lots of dissociation everywhere he looks

moving on to how his immortality actually works: like i said there’s only so much he knows about it but this is all the info he knows so far. he CAN “die” but all of his deaths are temporary. that is to say that his body will eventually heal and regenerate itself and he will come back. it’s not like deadpool where he can get stabbed in the head and go about the rest of his day like nothing happened, he might be able to keep himself up for a while to fight back or run away but it wont be long before he drops dead for a few days or so. during said time his body outwardly does seem very dead. he’s unresponsive and still and isn’t blinking or nothing and his pupils are blown (which he already has huge pupils but yk), like if you were to just show him to someone they’d be like “yeah that’s absolutely a corpse and also why would you show this to me.” but his body is still alive in a sense, it’s just sort of… yknow when you put a computer into sleep mode?? upon first glance it’s gonna look like it’s off but inwardly things are still going on. his body is still working to regenerate itself the whole time, even if whatever he sustained that “killed” him would very much not be healable or survivable by any normal person. in his POV, he just sort of gets knocked out for a while and then wakes up exhausted and sore and absolutely FAMISHED. like he could easily eat a horse without any exaggeration the boy can eat.

he’s also always been interested in horror and the supernatural and crime and shit and is largely desensitized to that sort of stuff from that + experiencing a lot of different deaths himself bc of the whole immortality thing paired with him being generally reckless when he was younger because what’s it gonna do? kill him? (“what’re you gonna do, jeff the kill me?” -him at jeff moments before being stabbed, probably) he says he doesn’t care but it actually effects him deeply in ways he doesn’t understand for a while. as he gets older he becomes less reckless and doesn’t throw himself into dangerous situations as often.

all that being said he’s not necessarily all that dangerous himself?? he carries his dagger around with him for protection or cutting up meat and apples or woodcarving more than anything and as a proxy he works a lot more as just an… observer. despite his name he’s not really all for the killing people stuff if he can help it unlike many of the others, if anything his name more so refers to the fact that HE’S usually the one getting slashed up. (it’s actually just bc of my username but shhhhhh) but generally he much prefers to be in the background keeping watch or scoping things out or just sort of… stalking people basically. dont ask me how he manages to be stealthy in THAT outfit… he manages somehow i swear 😔

but yknow overall he’s not an incredible threat to most people, the “creepy” part of him being a creepypasta comes a lot more just from how much it would suck to be in his shoes as just a guy who happens to be immortal but still able to experience the pain of death over and over again. he isn’t the creepy thing as much as his entire life experience is LOL. usually he’s just unsettling and disturbing at most.

he also has a VERY complex relationship with BEN in my AU specifically (WHICH RANDOM DISCLAIMER TIME: NOT THE LITTLE 12 YEAR OLD VERSION NOOOOO EW my au’s BEN is like a combo of “fanon” him and behavioral event network he is not 12 years old and i dont want him being shipped with anything NEAR that version of him, ONLY my AU’s version who is 19. im not a freak. 💔 they’re not a couple anyway (BEN🤝slasher -> being aro) but i did wanna preface that just in case bc im not trying to get misinterpreted like that) might write more about that sometime… bc their relationship has a lot of symbolism and complexity bc BEN is my fav character ever period and yes i am gonna write him and my self insert oc as being incredibly deeply intertwined bc i love him and cringe culture can kick rocks and therapy is difficult to get :3 oc x canon shippers platonic or romantic yall will always be safe on my blog frfr

im gonna post more about BEN soon too…. literally working on actually making a proper design for him rn which is mostly just difficult bc i cannot for the life of me think of what to give this freak to wear. i need them to serve cunt but like….. how do i do that 💔💔 that one BEN design i reblogged that gave him the adorable little heels….. absolutely genius………. u know who u are :3

more random rapid fire fun facts about him bc why not: he loves piercings and tattoos and body mods bc they heal so easily for him, he has his tongue split! (NEEEED to do one day actually my dream body mod), his immortality doesn’t seem to effect his ability to get sick which he HATES but when he does get sick it only lasts for a day or so and he’s a total drama queen the whole time, he loves to sew (though only by hand, he’s genuinely afraid of sewing machines) and will patch up or modify clothes for his friends or other proxies if they ask, his favorite kind of raw meat is boar, and his favorite cooked meat is a tie between pork (boar or domestic pig) and chicken, he wears his headphones most of the time bc he loves music and sounds can sometimes overstimulate him, and BEN can talk to him through them because of course he can, he loves animals and actually has way more empathy for them than for humans, and he absolutely LOVES medical dramas and does not care that a lot of the actual medical parts are inaccurate he will eat them up. he WILL be caught staying up until 6am watching chicago med and he will not apologize.

ANYWAY i think that’s about it actually. if anyone actually read all my ramblings…. i love u /p u mean very much to me /p

i WILL be yapping more soon (except probably about the actual “canon” pastas hehe) :3

[goobie-goo]

for the assorted multiverses, i just have harry potter (mom showed me when i was young hhhh i dont interact w it anymore bc loss of interest and uhm. *stares at jk rowling* eugh) and avatar: the last airbender (its the best ever /j)

the only thing i have written down for HP lore-wise is literally “HATES DUMBLEDORE” i mean. you do you. i did a house test for him bc i was bored— he got ravenclaw. not even surprised -> im a ravenclaw. his patronous is a nebelung cat which is funny bc my childhood cat was a nebelung (i have photos if you wanna see) (theyre from 2017 im so glad i have them still)

for ATLA:

THERE WAS AN ATLA PICREW AND IT WAS COOL OKAY? AAABJDNSNJS

dallas to aang & zuko, talking about ozai: you need me to kill that guy for you? 👀 /ref

“i’m gonna say that he’s probably an outlier bc of the world-hopper thing. something like an avatar but not? aang and the others are still the avatar, dallas isn’t considered an avatar. he can control all elements but isn’t an avatar bc he isn’t a reincarnation. the only reason he can bend all 4 is bc of his otherworldly status.” <- dallas also is a part of The Family aka is OP as FUCK! he has powers from that before he came to ATLA’s universe but he only bends the 4 elements and then the sub-types of bending styles (metal bending, blood bending, healing, lava bending, etc.) of the ATLA universe so no one gets suspicious.

cant add anything about Korra bc i havent watched it. im too attached to aang :[

thats really the only 2 assorted universes i have solid, written lore for. hermitcraft is dallas healing, nothing written yet— no ideas. i dont dare of bringing dallas into the DSMP. no way. that would only send him into a relapse. oh right! uhh i did think of some genshin ideas but its not in my notes… its in disc though lemme grab it-

THE FOLLOWING IS COPIED N PASTED!! (was talking about dsmp to a friend that doesnt know dsmp)

had a vivid reminder of one scene from an animatic (i think??) off dsmp wilbur asking (read: demanding) philza to kill him

and i literally forgot it was dsmp— i was just thinking of a crazed face and that person desperately asking another to ruin them through with a sword, while in a bout of insanity and mental breakdown. said sword is held by the other person (the one being asked to kill) and the insane one is basically pressing it into their own neck as they yell and scream to ‘just kill me!’

and i was like. hm. i cant remeber what thats from.

and i open my photo folders and scroll titles and then see dsmp related ones and go OH MY GOD ITS THE C!WILBUR DEATH—

anyways the reason i bright this up is bc i got the random vision of the scene i saw,,,

but w dallas during a breakdown of his. ***(AU bc i would not do anything to this extent)***

like oh my god imagine being the person on the other side of the sword???

i’m thinking genshin maybe. and rn, venti bc dallas and venti are like— BESTIES.

and imagine???

dallas is like: just kill me— *kinda crazy wide eyes and smile but yk also small bit of tears. not a lot,,

venti: *literally in tears* no— no!? dallas, i’m not doing that?!

dallas: this world is better off without me! besides, it’s not like i *won’t* come back!! you could push me off a cliff and break every bone in my goddamn body and *i’d be fine!!!*

venti: no, you wouldn’t be fine!? what the fuck?! im not going to *kill* you!||

or whatever idk i’m not good with writing mentally unstable characters in that way.

(btw venti doesn’t kill dallas, just wraps him up in a hug until the episode passes or whatever while venti cries. dallas apologizes for saying that, even though they both know he wasn’t in the right state of mind bc he still kinda traumatized venti. they tend to walk on eggshells when it comes to dallas’ suicidal tendencies after that— jumping into fights, taking blows for others, no self-preservation, etc.)

anywayssss :p

I WAS GOING THROUGH CHATS TO FIND MORE DALLAS MORE. GOOD NEWS. I DID FIND MORE AHHAAH

was finding music for dallas spotify playlist and got sad over lore again. and then nesquik (their nickname) started grilling me over how okd dallas is ehe

first two speak for themselves i think? the last ome was on the topic of dying and then brought up how The Eyes cannot die. (aether is the name of the male MC)

anywho-

DALLAS LORE!!!!!!!!!!!!

poor gyu :(((((( hes just a little silly!!!!! just needs a big ol hug!!!!!!!!

[ilovesmosh55]

MAJOR POKÉMON SCARLET/VIOLET SPOILERS but man oh man do these games have me thinking!

I’ve seen people bring up the photo of young Arven and Maschiff found in the lab as proof that Sada/Turo really did love him and then seen people subsequently arguing about whether they truly did or not and honestly. I think it’s pretty apparent the professors DID love him. Even the AI is happy and proud upon seeing him again. But like the thing is.

That isn’t enough.

Way too often abusive/bad parents in media are just depicted as callous users who only have a child for their own reasons/gain and don’t actually care. And while that is possible and is the case in a lot of situations of abuse. There’s this idea that if you really love someone you can’t ever truly hurt them and abusers just can’t possibly love their victims if they do what they do that’s rlly unhealthy. Bc a lot of abusers truly DO love their victims but because they’re abusive or neglectful their expression of it is still damaging.

But the SV professors are a shining example of parents who really DO love their son. But that doesn’t make them good parents. They still prioritize work over Arven. They still make him take care of their possibly dangerous otherworldly Pokémon singlehandedly. They still leave him to live alone in that tiny room with only a Mabosstiff to keep him company.

Because all the love in the world can’t fix the fact that they’re selfish. Selfish enough to put INSANE security measurements on their time machines to ensure nothing can stop them. Security measures that override the AI’s developed consciousness and consciences to make them attack a bunch of kids. Including the son in question that they love so much.

And in the end the AIs DO make a sacrifice to save Arven… but it’s still selfish. It’s still fulfilling their selfish desire to time travel, abandoning him forever. All the love in the world couldn’t change the fact that at their core the professors are just too selfish to be healthy parents.

[sassmar]

What’s your opinion on Ronan/Kavinsky <3

oohhhh my gosh um !! i actually LOVE ronan/kavinsky it's so fun and twisted etc etc etc and also i mean. and the dream thieves just did me IN i cannot believe maggie actually did that like ?? the entire book is basically about ronan realizing/accepting he's gay but like, via joseph kavinsky's tragic unrequited love for him?!????!?!! like in the dream world when ronan is like "there's no one here" and kavinsky is like "just us" OH MY fucking GOD actually it makes me a little insane. but at the same time pynch is like. i ADORE adam parrish so much and ronan has loved him since before he knew anything about adam or even himself (!!!!) and they're these weird psychic/eldritch/otherworldly soulmates and everything about them sorta brings me to tears so. it's a little weird to say i "ship" rovisnky cause ?? i think ppl usually seem to view shipping as an endgame sort of thing?? and like i'm not even mad that kavinsky died honestly i'd think i'd be madder if he DIDNT die bc his death was so perfect and breathtaking and just !! the way that mags wants to you to think he's sort of a shallow dick making homophobic jokes etc and then really it's just that he's head over heels in love with ronan and wants to run away with him and he cant bc ronan IS GAY but STILL doesnt love him back so he actually just DIES ie commits suicide with HIS OWN DREAM creature i !! it's like shakespearean jesus h christ

yeah tl;dr the dream thieves is brilliant and ronan/kavinsky makes me a little insane actually but i am basic and still love endgame pynch most of all <3

[fluoresensitivearchived]

ahem. i have a writing question for u icon i've actually had this question ever since i first read ur writing when mia and maya dropped but wasn't sure how to word it and i think i got it bc i need to know since i see it in like ALL of ur work. so uhm.

i notice a lot of ur characters, not just but especially ur protagonists, carry themselves in a very Careful way regardless of personality. it's almost like they're constantly trying to avoid being discovered or something, like they don't belong where they are bc of the people who have surrounded them. i see it in all of them in little ways, i see it in jude and nemoira in HUGE and incredibly touching ways, even ur shorter pieces have this energy.

so, one black autistic horror lover to another, is this a deliberate artistic choice that u make with each story or does it naturally weave itself into ur characters or am i just insane and suck at reading. i must know.

GOSH! Wow, you're really right, everyone does hold themselves so carefully. It is a specific artistic choice; I like for all of my characters to be easily recognizable as neurodivergent, and the very particular 'I am Behaving Like a Person' way I hold myself is a big piece of everything I write. It also is just a natural thing for me. If neurotypical authors always default to neurotypical characters, I must do the same for my own characters. I can't imagine writing someone who doesn't think very carefully about their tone, or who isn't constantly checking to see if they're holding themselves correctly. And sure, some of that is the fact that they're killers with dark pasts or otherworldly creatures, but it's all metaphor.

Thank you for noticing! You've made me EXTREMELY happy!

[sloppykyuu]

I absolutely love your writing 💞 could I please request HeadCanons of punk issei + punk iwazumi ( poly , if you’re comfortable . If you’re not comfortable with poly , you can do them separately if you’d like ) with a soft + somewhat innocent girlfriend ? sfw + nsfw if possible please 💕 thanks in advance 💕💞

I am so in love with this. My two fav boys as punks 😍😍 that’s like a dream come true

Punk Mattsun + Iwa

SFW

- first off let’s start by saying they are so overprotective

- they’re around shifty people sometimes and would literally kill anyone who laid a hand on you

- I lub clichés so they’re the toughest guys you know but are so so soft towards their sweet little girl

- isseis a tease and pokes fun at your short stature , resting his arm on your head, acting like can’t see you it’s all in good fun he loves how small you are

- haji will smack him in the head, especially if he sees that’s bothering you (even if it doesn’t)

- it’s so funny to see this short, innocent looking girl with these big, buff badass looking dudes

- especially seeing them turn from stoic and angry looking to having the softest looks on their face when talking to you

- they would do anything for- someone was mean to you? What’s their address, we’ll take care of them. Want food from your favorite restaurant? Of course baby, order the whole menu. Need someone to cry to? Come here, princess, everything’s okay.

- they’ve found someone so loving and accepting of who they are, you’d never judge them and allow them to be whoever they want to be and welcomed them with open arms and they’ve never been so thankful

- you’re so perfect in their eyes and will gladly argue with anyone who doesn’t agree

- they love introducing you to their ideals and lifestyle and your only concern is them staying safe, never trying to change them

- as much as they both protect you, hajime is really your protector

- an arm wrapped tightly around your waist or hand holding yours in big crowds to make sure you don’t get lost

- holds you so tight to him when you guys cuddle

- when Issei introduced you to him, he was pretty hesitant about the whole relationship thing just Bc his past relationships were never really very good

- but you’ve allowed him to let his walls down because he knows you’d never hurt him

-And he’s so damn in love with you

- they both are

- you met Issei first at a party and he was immediately drawn to you

- so small and fragile looking he couldn’t help but want you to be his so he could protect you forever

- and while he also protects you, he’s the one in the relationship that pushes you past your comfort zone

- and not in a bad way! He’d never pressure you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with

- he just likes taking you with him to do more adventurous things

- like exploring abandoned places, or sneaking into pools past closing time, or skinny dipping with them at some random lake in the middle of the night ya know stuff like that

- silly, juvenile things

- they’re a perfect balance for each other

- Issei pushes you (again not in a bad way I just can’t think of how to describe it)

- and hajime grounds you

- but they’re both the most reliable and comforting arms to crawl into whenever you need them

NSFW

- omg 🥴 I cannot describe how much I want them to—

- anyways the sex with these two is otherworldly

- every orgasm with them is like going to another demsion

- Issei will have your riding his giant ass dick while hajime fucks into your ass

- that’s one of their favorite ways to have you

- they get to fill up both of your pretty little holes and hear the way you cry out for them it drives them insane

- and without fail they have you coming over and over and over again

- sometimes hajime will come home to you choking on isseis cock on the couch, his hands behind his head with you resting between his thighs on the floor, and how can he resist the urge to slap your hand away from fingering your cunt and fucking you from behind while you gag, moan, and drool on Issei

- you’re their little cum dumpster <3

- fucking load after load of cum into your Pussy and ass, shooting it all over your face and tits

- they love seeing you covered in their cum, you just look so damn cute all fucked out and messy

- at parties when you’ve all downed a few drinks (or not) Issei will tug you into a bathroom and just pound you over the sink, does not give a single fuck if you’re screaming he just wants to fuck you

- hajime is a little more reserved and will take you back to the car and fuck you into next week in his back seat

- doesn’t mean he’s any less of a heathen tho, he loves to finger you at restaurants, in the back of friends car, in his own car

- issei’s just a little more bold, he’ll see hajime finger fuckinh you under the table and just say fuck it and crawl under the table and start eating you out, mans just doesn’t give a fuck

- once hajime makes you finish on his fingers Isseis crawling to the back of makkis car and shoves his face right into your soaked cunt

- Makki just sighs and turns the music up

-overall perfect boyfriends especially together! They love you and spoil you so much in your regular life and sex life. You’re so perfect for them and they never want to lose so they’ll never do anything to make you want to leave them

I hope I executed this well because this idea was chefs kiss 😚👌 my fav boys with my fav aesthetic

Requests open!

[ceoofuwu]

𝐈𝐂𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ;; 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟒𝐤

𝐀/𝐍: So, FINALLY I finished this piece and I’m so happy bc it took nearly a month AHAHAHAA (I know I’m terrible) AnYwAy, I think Dabi is “sweet but a psycho”? (yeah sweet inside VERY DEEP DOWN) and... inspired by this... here you go, everyone! <333 Lots of love, stay safe, positive and hydrated!!!

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: As long as you had discovered that place, everything was great. But, at the end of the day, you weren’t the only one to have made that discovery....

𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: hurt/comfort

Tranquility.

Gentle breezes swirling around, fiddling with light hair, caressing an innocent face. Soft moonlight showering the concealed glade, eventually lighting up the night sky.

Serenity.

A reflection of the star-kissed canvas above depicted on the frozen surface before you. The sight seemed to have been plucked out of a fairy tale. Until that moment, not even the thought of a frozen lake serving as a prism to the infinitude of the stars had crossed your naïve mind.

This small fragment of Heaven had been a recent discovery of yours. In need of a break, a relief from all the duties chasing after you in the League, a walk was the least you could ask.

Yet, who could have possibly foreseen the blessing you’d come across?

Wandering around there, watching miracles unfolding before your eyes…. That was by far the most tranquilizing activity you had engaged yourself in.

Complete and utter silence, the moon shining upon this otherworldly scenery in its full glory and merely the humble sounds of nature dolling this fantasy up. The most mesmerizing trait though, was the lake made of ice, which looked exactly like a crystal mirror projecting the star-blown sky. Its glossy transparency was little by little dazing you into attempting to walk on it.    

Well, not that you could blame yourself. You’d always hear people commenting on how amazing the experience was. Besides, you couldn’t help but imagine how mind-blowing it would be to see the stars, those unreachable sparkles of light, under your feet.

Curiosity urged you to take a step farther and bring your delicate body in the edge of the lake.

Would it be slippery? Icy? Smooth maybe?

You wouldn’t know unless you tried.

You outstretched your leg quite hesitantly, with a surge of doubt washing over you, what with this whole novel array of emotions. Your heart had begun to pound insanely fast inside your chest as you were overwhelmed with excitement and impatience but, just as the tip of your shoe brushed the surface…

«You must be one hell of an idiot to throw yourself in a frozen lake without knowing the odds of falling in» a familiar voice spoke behind you, as you felt a strong grip on your arm.

Come to think of it, you never considered the possibility of the ice being too thin to hold you, but…

«Dabi?!» you exclaimed as you turned around and saw your “savior”.

The raven-head immediately let go of you.

«Dude, what the hell are you doing here?! How did you even find this place?!» you asked frantically, shifting your body so that you could face him.

Dabi was looking down at his feet, hands on his pockets, minding his own business as usual and, of course, being unreadable. That lousy attitude of his was getting on your nerves from time to time but, he hadn’t done anything to intrude your privacy during the time of your comradeship. However, his way of acting in certain situations seemed really annoying to you.

His turquoise gaze flicked as it met with yours slowly.

«You don’t own the place, as far as I’m concerned».

Cocky bastard.

He had a point though. It was simply a glade, hidden in the density of the city’s forest. It belonged to no one, which simultaneously meant that everyone could have access to it.

You rolled your eyes, feeling quite irritated by the fact that he was right. It’s not like you had some sort of problem with him, it’s just that you didn’t like it when others proved you wrong.

«I don’t alright but… how did you end up here?» you asked, fiddling with your fingers nervously, genuinely feeling curious.

«Well… I was just… walking the other day and then I found this place… which ended up being to my liking…» he said, his gaze moving around the place and never focalizing somewhere specifically.

You nodded in agreement, «That lake is so… magic—«

«I hate that lake».

You averted your goggled-up eyes to meet your companion. He was standing upright; head tilted upwards, black hair and coat getting carried away by the soft currents of wind, bright cerulean eyes, suddenly narrowing to a dark, nostalgic glare.

You could confidently say that you were witnessing one of the most terrifyingly beautiful sights in your life; the horrific murderer of a man bowing to the one and only indomitable conqueror: the past.

You felt tiny beads of sweat coursing down your forehead in nervousness, searching frantically for something to grasp onto, as the urge to run away took your being over. Dabi was a horribly dreadful man; what made him like this though, weren’t his capabilities as a serial killer but the fact that, you knew so little about him. The unknown is and will always be by far the most frightening thing.

«I don’t like the ice…» he spoke menacingly low, his obscure look still transfixed to the void. You chose not to reply and await his word instead, feeling too self-cautious to find the courage to talk.

«It reminds me of… back then…» he murmured as a twisted smile bent his lips slightly. His stance didn’t alter one bit, standing haughtily against the wind with the soft moonlight steeping his form delicately.

Back then?

«Does anyone know about… back then?» the words slipped out of your lips involuntarily, making you cover your mouth with your hands in embarrassment.

The twisted smile stretched exceedingly, eventually managing to distort his facial features into a sick, maniacal expression. A psychotic laugh followed shortly, echoing in the nightly horizon, bringing out the derangement hidden within his broken soul.

«Back then… is Hell» he retorted coldly, no emotion but aversion, lacing his hoarse voice.

Just how traumatized are you, Dabi?

Silence. Long, comfortable silence. You took your sweet time to process your comrade’s pained words, seeking some way to comfort him. Could you though? Years of trauma was weighing down on your shoulders. You had no idea what he had been through, you didn’t even know his real name, for God’s sake! How could you help someone without knowing even the most basic things about them?

But I need to help…

Taking one swift, curt breath, you plucked up the courage to speak up, «Was it… that bad?» you asked with a cautiously low voice, not entirely sure what to expect as an answer.

Dabi’s slim body shifted immediately, his sadistic grin once again deforming his features, to something truly repulsive and… horrific.

«Bad you say?» he laughed ironically, «Do you even have the slightest idea how it feels to wake up every day and genuinely believe you’re a piece of trash, an unworthy dross?» he raised the tone of his voice taking a step closer to you, «Or to wonder if you actually should have been born?» another step, «Have you ever been rejected by your own family?» another, more infuriated step, «Have you questioned your existence?» he stopped in front of you, looking down on you, his judgmental finger pointing to you, «HAVE YOU—«

Without allowing him to finish another self-distractive sentence, you dived in instinctively, your arms wrapped around his built torso, and before realizing it, you were embracing Dabi in your miserable attempt to comfort him.

«No, I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t share your thoughts and pain with anyone, Dabi» you inhaled some of his scent, «…the more you bottle up your emotions and shut them in, the more drained you’ll feel…» you expected his arms to wrap around you too, yet, it never happened.

«How do you know?»

A hefty sigh of relief jumped out of your lips, «It happens even at the simplest of situations… sometimes when I feel down and don’t let it out somehow, I feel like I constantly have something weighing down on me… something that’s holding me down…» you explained, slowly letting go of him.

When you looked up and saw his clouded eyes, you noticed something converted in them. As if all this psychopathic tension had been replaced by something more… gentle… mundane… and the light smile that grazed his lips accounted for that.

«If you ever want to talk to someone… I’ll be here…» you informed him and carefully strayed, far from that place, leaving Dabi all alone, while he stared at that frozen lake, which brought back so many grievous, icy cold memories…

Hope you enjoyed! Leave a heart, comment, reblog! 💕

[jungnoir]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐛𝐭𝐬;

bts but as witches in a coven. discuss

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧: the supreme

ok not quite but he’s the most experienced in magic out of all the boys

his mother was a witch and she taught him everything he needed to know from birth to adulthood

his whole family is blessed with magic save for a few who didn’t get the gene but every family reunion they all dote on jin and talk about how powerful he’s become and how proud they are of him

the coven house where all of the boys stay is actually jin’s ancestor’s home from a long time ago

the place has brought up witches of all generations and jin was very eager to inherit it

while there’s definitely a lack of witches he’s been able to recruit, he loves his family of six so it doesn’t really bother him

he acts like he’s all serious but in reality he’s always casting spells on the youngins as tests (read: for fun)

jimin: why tf did you give me green skin

jin: if you had been paying attention during lessons you would know how to fix it :)

has definitely said this out of context more than once: ”any witch worth a broom handle knows how to get rid of poisonous snakes! you know back in my day…”

wears the flashiest outfits, but little do people know that they’re all homemade. he has a serious creative eye and seeks to make what simple human designers wish they could (taehyung is very eager to learn this talent from him)

goes all out on halloween with this talent too, creating uber realistic costumes

no he didn’t make a costume out of real human bones that year he went as a scarily realistic skeleton what are you talking about

no graves were robbed in the making of this outfit

if you couldn’t tell, his specialty is in glamours

honestly the guy should just tattoo “i’m a witch” across his forehead, he makes it so damn obvious

he openly practices magic too like it gives yoongi stress pains bc!! there’s still ppl who would very much like to burn witches still to this day!!! where is the self-preservation!!

jin doesn’t care. he’ll burn them right back. checkmate bitch

honestly charms anyone that comes in contact with him which is one of the things he never has to try at

the guys think he uses magic to do it but he’s honestly just, as jin would say, “born with it”

𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢: the right hand man

*namjoon voice* and who do we got here right now??? ˢᵘᵍᵃ!!!

when it comes to magic, yoongi is pretty neutral

an awfully interesting feeling to have given that seokjin has appointed him the heir of the coven in case anything happens to him

he’s not obsessed with magic like tae, hobi or kook

he doesn’t spend his time learning everything about it like namjoon

and he’s not playful with it like jimin and jin

yoongi just… acknowledges it. its like it exists as something he can do and he’s proud but he doesn’t really care if that makes sense

most of his friends outside of the coven are human too and he has no reservations about telling them what he is bc if they cause trouble he is more than prepared to take care of it

they’re usually like “wow so cool! i wish i was a witch” but yoongi really doesn’t care lmao

with or without magic, yoongi is the same: he loves music, he loves making music, and he loves being a musician

yoongi, however, is guilty of having used magic to make his music just right before

sometimes a note just doesn’t sit with him right and it’s driving him insane

or maybe the bass doesn’t hit hard enough

he charms his music in a way that when one listens to it, they feel exactly what yoongi wants them to feel

people are always telling him he has a real gift in music and while he most certainly does, he feels he has to give credit to his magic for helping him along sometimes

but then seokjin will be like “isn’t magic your talent too? aren’t you just exercising it when you charm your music? it’s not like you can only make music well. you should give yourself props for your magic too”

it’s just. weird to him because he’s seen how much magic can corrupt people in much higher positions than himself and it’s Terrifying

he wants to know that no matter what he makes, it’s his and his alone, not attributed to any otherworldly advantage

this just kind of contributes to his need to be as detached from magic as possible

he’s too cheap to buy one of those coffee makers that automatically start brewing at a certain time in the morning and just uses magic to do it instead

“yoongi do you want me to buy you a new coffee maker for your birthday? they have ones that do all the work for you now-” “no”

he has to be extra, okay namjoon

jimin teases him sometimes but yoongi knows it’s all out of love

jimin understands yoongi in a way, and while the others are always like “yoongi you should have more fun with your magic!” jimin is always like “no no no, let him be”

besides yoongi could probably smoke all of them in a battle of magic if it came down to it lol

𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: the perfectionist

HERE HE IS!!! ITS HE

hoseok is probably one of the most talented witches in the coven

hoseok is a perfectionist to a t so if he feels insecure about how he’s doing a certain spell he will do it over and over and over until he’s got it right which makes him a pretty formidable opponent

like even the boys wouldn’t go up against him bc they know they’re just gonna get their ass handed to them

he’s a sweetie tho and very light-hearted and he never lets his power get to his head

he mainly uses it to bother the others tbh

also uses magic to give himself and the boys cool ass hair colors

currently he’s obsessed with this orange he’s got going on

calls it “pumpkin spice” bc it angers yoongi

“it really brings out the burnt sunset hues of a pumpkin ya know? or like a mix of changing fall colors, like golden crisp and warm crimson” “it’s fucking orange” yoongi can be heard chiming in from somewhere else in the house

but don’t get me wrong, hoseok loves himself some yoongi and vice versa

yoongi taught hoseok directly bc yoongi was the one that found hoseok

he was just an average college student and wasn’t really finding a will to live outside of paying off his student debts

he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life and was pretty dead inside, working at a cafe and serving coffee to other dead inside college students when yoongi came in and sensed his strong magical aura

yoongi kinda forced hoseok’s magic out of him by tossing a cup of steaming hot coffee to the floor, causing hoseok to freeze the entire cafe in time, save for the two of them. yoongi told him what he was and the rest was history

now that it’s been so long hoseok still gets upset that yoongi was willing to break one of the cafe’s mugs to prove a point

because of course, when time unfroze, the mug fuckin shattered all over the place what a fuckin jerk guess who’s going to have to clean that up does he really have no respect for retail workers seriou

seokjin also was opposed to yoongi’s method but since it resulted in hobi joining their coven, he can’t be too mad

it was hoseok’s natural ability that yoongi was able to help hone, and when hoseok found a love for it, he took it upon himself to be the absolute best witch he could be

hoseok’s power of stopping time is uniquely his own and he’s worked hard to perfect it

sometimes he just stops time to stop it

hob: *freezes a movie theater right before something dramatic happens on screen* hold on yall I gotta piss real quick

freezing time is also super helpful during *cough* stressful exams* cough*

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧: the scholar

he knows…. everything

not only did he do the reading, he did an 8 page analysis on it and corrected a few mistakes too

namjoon was aware of his witchy nature even from the moment he was a little kid, and his parents were both human and a bit scared for him since they didn’t know how to handle it, but they gave him the option of pursuing magic or not. they made sure to do all their own research into where witches could go to hone their craft just in case

in the end, namjoon grew curious and started reading books about magic and magical things

tho he didn’t actually start using his power until his mid teens

by then he was a bit shaky with it, but he knew a lot and was very determined so he got the hang of it very quickly

rarely uses his magic outside of it being necessary tho bc he’s gone so long without having to use it that he doesn’t rely on it for anything

he also likes to be independent from his magic in a way

while magic is very much a part of him and his being, he doesn’t want it to be like a crutch, you know? his biggest fear is losing his magic, bc he’s heard it can happen

he’s also aware that some witches lose important life skills and miss out on opportunities to build their character bc they’re so used to being able to just magic their way out of a situation

went from student to teacher real quick

teaches the other boys how to properly say incantations

“its levios-ah not levios-ar”

actually?? a pretty scary dude when it comes to using his magic for real

don’t put him in a situation where someone is getting hurt because he will not go easy on the aggressor. the other boys can attest to this too, having been saved by him far too many times than is acceptable in namjoon’s eyes

basically dont fuck with namjoon’s boys or u gon die

does cute things for the boys on their birthdays with magic

one time taehyung was sad that it wasn’t snowing on his birthday so namjoon made it snow for hours

may have fucked up the climate a lil bit

yoongi almost lost a toe

namjoon frequents a library and whenever a lil kid is struggling to reach a book he uses his magic to drift the book down to the little kid and when the kid looks at him in awe he just presses his finger to his lips and winks at them

flirts using his extreme wicca knowledge, of which is either a major turn off or a major turn on. you decide

𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧: the reluctant

jimin loves magic, but it wasn’t always like that

jimin kinda struggled with accepting his magical abilities at a young age bc he was really confused

like why wasn’t he just like everyone else? why did he have to be a witch? why did he have to have magic when he could’ve just been normal?

he often rejected it, never bothering to learn anything even to impress the family at reunions

but as he grew older, his parents grew worried he’d hate his magic and never use it again, putting him in a vulnerable position if his magic were ever to just come out when jimin isn’t in a place to control it, so they let him meet a slightly older witch that could help mentor him

his parents would’ve done it but jimin hardly ever listened to his parents about magic and they wanted to show him there were witches his age that were amazing people and embraced it, that it didn’t take away from jimin’s life but in fact added to it

in comes yoongi

yoongi, at first, really pities jimin

he understands the struggle between wanting to be normal and dealing with a part of his identity that won’t ever go away

where yoongi is concerned, that struggle for him was that he wanted to be himself regardless of being talented in magic. jimin... just hates it

but then jimin starts bashing magic and witches and he’s about to get angry at his parents for trying to force him into being a witch when yoongi just,,, slaps him upside the head

jimin’s shocked and yoongi is just like “respect your parents kid, they’re looking out for you. just because you don’t use your magic doesn’t mean people won’t know you’re a witch. its dangerous for a witch to go around with magic and not know how to use it”

jimin is shocked. he never thought of it that way

jimin feels embarrassed all of a sudden and apologizes and then yoongi cracks a smile and he’s like “no biggie kid, i’m just here to teach you the basics of magic and then i’ll be out of your hair”

jimin finds that learning magic with yoongi is really fun and soon he’s asking to be apart of the coven and embracing being a witch

he becomes carefree with it, like it’s another part of him, and he’s still kinda inexperienced, but he’s learning a lot from yoongi and namjoon

loves playing with temperature

the boys make him freeze their drinks for him, or ask him to heat up some popcorn while they’re all sprawled out on the couch on movie night bc no one feels like waiting two minutes for it to cook in the microwave

makes the water in the shower cold whenever one of the boys is taking way too fucking long in there which is Everyday

also jimin: *hitting on someone at the bar* *makes the room slightly warmer* “is it hot in here or is it just you?”

relates everything he learns back to naruto in some way, much to everyone’s complete and utter confusion

he just really kins the guy i guess

100% owns every single witch pun shirt known to man

“witch please” “witches do it better” “this is my resting witch face”

jungkook: by all means jimin why don’t you just burn us all at the stake yourself

it’s ok tho bc it’s his own little way of owning his identity, and if you want to avoid having your fingers frozen off, you’ll be sure not to step to him any kind of way

𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: the transcendent 

my favorite witch!!! i wrote this whole thing for him

tae is like jin in that his whole family is magical and he grew up surrounded by magic his whole life

in fact, he’s so familiar with magic that he’s kind of sick of it (no he isn’t (most of the time))

taehyung is unique with his magic bc he’s actually able to transcend realms oooh~

the information on how many realms and parallel universes and such are limited as hell so taehyung actively helps broaden that knowledge as he travels, a very Dangerous and Scary job to anybody else

but to him he’s like!! fuck yeah astral projection!

basically, he’s able to put himself into a deep sleep where he moves through different realms, some more or less magical than the others

he’s so good at it that he can project himself into someone else’s dreams too

he’s basically capable of seeing more than most magical beings, and he can perceive spirits easily, as well as being able to actually see a magical aura around someone

so for instance, if a witch who didn’t know they were a witch walked into a bar, he’d know what they were instantly. besides the general intuitive feeling that most witches get, he can see the auras physically, like swarming tendrils of smoke unique to every person

each aura feels and looks different than others which makes it easy for him to point out shape shifters and vampires and werewolves and all the other guys pretty easily

bc of this ability, taehyung also likes to mess with the boys like everyone else lol

“tae, i just saw the most beautiful-” “they’re actually an ogre in disguise” “WHAT”

“man my english teacher is a witch” “she actually is”

in case you couldn’t tell tae’s favorite victim is jungkook

casually tells people he’s a witch just for the #reactions

if you’re wondering, no. nobody in this coven cares about keeping this shit a secret

since he’s more sensitive to dreaming, a lot of his dreams leave him incredibly emotional because sometimes he really is there

he once had a dream where all magical beings were universally accepted in the world and were loved and happy and woke up sobbing into jimin’s lap

also nightmares take a HUGE toll on him so his sleep pattern is fucked for real

usually ends up eating cake with jin in the dining room at four am and talking about life together to get the nightmares off tae’s mind

tae uses his magic on humans in a different way. like he doesn’t prank them that much, but rather manipulates their moods. he tries to charm anyone he comes in contact with to make them happy or to make them giggly

he wants to use his magic for good, because it often leaves a very painful burden on him in turn

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤: the prodigy

honestly i feel like if jungkook was a witch he’d probably be an underdeveloped one, you feel?

he finds out his power late bc either his family didn’t know (they’re all human) or they just didn’t tell him in hopes of him never becoming one

but jungkook is being bullied by some guys in his grade and they corner him after school one day and jungkook gets so frustrated that he just,,, makes them all start uncontrollably burping

as dumb as it is, those kids never bother jungkook again

when he does get a hang of it, jungkook probably uses his magic for fun more often than not

jungkook is recruited by jin for this very reason. he catches jungkook messing with old people at the park on his afternoon runs and he’s like this kid is such a brat. i want him

jungkook is SUCH a fast learner holy shit

he goes to namjoon for every little question, to the point where namjoon is positive he’s become a better witch simply because jungkook has prepared him for any fuckin scenario known to man

he also makes himself float upside down in the kitchen at night so when hoseok comes down for a glass of water he almost pisses himself

“haha did i scare you” 

cue hoseok making jungkook fall down as he mumbles “little shit” under his breath

halloween is his favorite time of year and he likes to pull harmless pranks on the kiddies while scaring the mean teenagers ruining all of the children’s fun

like he sees this guy in a deformed mask holding a plastic knife about to scare a little boy so Jungkook just gives the dude a wedgie with his magic

all the kids are laughing at him and jungkook just smirks

honestly he doesn’t like reading about magic as much as he likes just doing it from intuition/namjoon’s instruction. he’s a lot like hoseok in that he has a lot of natural talent but not a lot of proper training when he first starts honing his ability

since jin yoongi and namjoon are in charge of teaching magic they all hound on him like “did u do the reading”

jungkook maybe glosses over everything and then just over-performs as compensation

they get on him abt it but there’s no lying about it, jungkook is a strong witch on his own

he hasn’t gotten a special manifestation of his magic Just Yet but he only gets stronger as he goes. the more he applies himself, the stronger he grows

[tracies-tales]

Letter by Letter

Dear Arin...

Dan’s pen paused. He pinched the tip and wiggled it as he surveyed his work. He’d written plenty of love songs in his day, comedy variety though they were. Writing out an actual love letter was basically second nature. Although, it wasn’t helping him get his feelings out and onto a tangible page as he’d hoped it would. He’d heard that pouring one’s soul out in words was a way that helped some people manage their emotions.

Looking at the letter again, Dan was pretty positive this had only deepened his infatuation.

It reminded him of everything he loved about Arin. It was filled end to end with the feelings that he tried to convey to Arin every day. Once he’d begun spilling the things he desperately wished he could find the courage to say out loud, he’d found it difficult to stop.

Because this letter also contained his terror.

As much as his heart was laid out in ink, so too was the underlying fear that this letter could mean the end of their friendship. He didn’t truly believe Arin would shun him if he knew how Dan felt, but he knew things would never be the same. Not really. You can’t just confess your undying love for a person and not experience a change one way or another. 

A sigh parted Dan’s lips as he folded the paper and laid it on his chest beneath his hand. Somewhere, deep down, a piece of him yearned to give Arin the letter. The worst that would probably happen was Arin would apologize and say he didn’t feel the same way. Then they would go back to their lives, recording Game Grumps sessions, laughing at dick jokes, doing his best to hide the pain behind a smile.

He shifted to lay down on the Grump couch, utilizing the space while everyone else was absorbed in their own projects. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned into his palms. He tried to get himself to accept the fact that Arin’s gay jokes were just that--jokes. But he said them too often, the inflection of his tone always just lilted enough to make Dan’s heart flutter and his thoughts turn to static. The way Arin’s hand would always linger on Dan’s arm or shoulder, or ass, on special occasions, made Dan unable to help but wonder. 

“Whatcha got there?” Arin asked.

Dan jumped and snatched the letter off his chest, crumpling it into his fist. “What’s what?” he asked, far too quickly to be convincing. He hadn’t even heard the door to the studio open.

Arin’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Ooohhh, secrety secrets?” he prompted as he shut the door behind him.

Dan snorted, unable to help but chuckle at his tone. He figured he might as well play along. “Yes, the tippitiest toppest of secrets.”

“My favorite kind!” Arin walked over. Dan didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced to Dan’s hands as he sat up.

Dan shook a finger at him, “No siree, they’re secrets for a reason, Ar.”

A pout immediately overtook his features. They almost made Dan feel guilty enough to show him right then. “Dannyyy,” Arin whined, sitting next to him and leaning heavily into his shoulder. “Come on, at least give me a hint.”

Dan hated when he called him Danny--it was so damn cute. “Dude, cut it out,” he smiled, ruffling Arin’s hair with his free hand. 

“Not until you tell me,” Arin looked up at him.

Dan pursed his lips. He was distracted just long enough by Arin’s puppy eyes for the letter to be snatched from his grip. “Hey!” Dan yelped, leaning to try to grab it back.

Arin stretched his arm to its maximum limit and leaned away from him, holding the paper out of reach. “Dan, come on, how bad can it be?”

“It’s just stupid song lyrics!” Dan blurted, immediately cursing himself for such a blatant lie.

“You’re never ashamed to show me your ideas for new lyrics,” Arin retorted. However, he relented and shifted back up, holding the letter out. Dan grabbed it, but it felt like some otherworldly force was stopping his hand from yanking it away.

Dan frowned down at it, refusing to meet Arin’s eyes. “I know,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm up with a tingling blush. 

“So...what is it?” Arin asked, his tone much less jovial than it was a minute ago.

Dan bit his lip. He shut his eyes and said, “It’s...a letter. To you.”

That made Arin’s brows knit in confusion. “To me?” 

“To you.”

“So why the hell were you so adamantly against showing it to me?”

“Because, I-” Dan’s voice got caught in his throat. “I wasn’t...sure if I was ready for you to know,” he replied, letting the paper go.

Arin glanced to his hand and back up to him. Waiting for approval. Dan grinned in spite of himself, through all the roiling fear tearing his guts apart; he was touched that Arin was actually double checking to make sure he had permission. Dan nodded, but he couldn’t meet Arin’s eyes. He tucked his knees up to hug them as he heard the crinkle of the paper being unfolded and straightened out. Then Arin began to read aloud, which only made Dan’s grip on his legs tighten.

“Dear Arin, 

Where do I begin? I guess all letters have to start somewhere. So here it is, greatest intro to a letter there ever was. Smooth, Avidaniel

How was I supposed to know? I need to stop starting lines with questions How could I have known how big of a part you were going to play in my life? 

Maybe it was your charming smile. Maybe it was your musical resounding laugh. Maybe it was the way you wanted me, a 38 year old nobody, to be your Game Grumps partner in crime. I don’t fucking know, but somehow you took a hold of me and never let me go.

No amount of words in pen, text, audio recording, or verbal assault will ever be able to quantify what it means to me. What you mean to me. Because, fuck dude, you mean the world. 

You deserve everything you have. I mean it. The internet popularity, the lovelies, the job, you’ve worked your ass off for this. Everyone is so proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I couldn’t be happier or luckier to get to see you shine so brightly. I don’t care that the spotlight isn’t on me--you’re more of a star than I’ll ever be.

Shit, I’m running out of paper already. Curse my own large-print hubris! 

I suppose there is one way I could have summed this up rather than write a whole ass essay about the subject.

What I’ve been struggling to write this whole time, because once I’ve written it I’ll know for sure it’s true:

I love you, Arin. 

Nothing’s ever going to change that, whether or not you do, too. 

You can count on it, Big Cat.”

The silence in the room that followed gnawed at Dan’s stomach like acid. Maybe giving him the letter wasn’t the best idea after all. Was he mad? No, he was probably thinking of the gentlest way to turn him down. The waiting was agonizing, driving Dan insane.

The horrendous ache was quelled by Arin’s arms wrapping around him. They encompassed Dan entirely, legs and all, into a snug embrace. Dan was shocked enough that he forgot to adjust to help as Arin hauled him into his lap. The paper had left Arin’s hand and fluttered to the floor.

A sniffle made Dan turn his head. “Arin? Are...are you crying?” he asked.

“Fuck you, what do you mean am I crying?” Arin laughed, the sound broken up with gentle sobs. “How the fuck am I s’posed to read shit like that and not get emotional?”

“I’m...fuck man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even mean to give it to you, I...”

“So you were just gonna bottle it up like some kind of dumbass?”

Dan blinked, “What?”

“Like I haven’t been hinting this at you for years,” he scoffed. “Years, Daniel! I spent this entire damn time thinking the same shit, more or less.”

Dan was dumbfounded. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes, as well, “Really?”

“Of c--of course really! What the hell do you think I was implying? I was hitting on you but really what I wanted was to bang Ross?”

The curse of the static-brain returned. “Hitting on me?”

“Holy fuck, you really were clueless,” Arin laughed, snuggling his face into Dan’s shoulder. He sniffled again and said, “This is only about a couple years too late, but I love you too, Dan.”

Warmth blossomed in Dan’s chest, and his heart raced with no indication of slowing any time soon. He had succumbed to tears as well, beaming at Arin before he shifted his torso and threw his arms around his neck. When Arin lifted his head in curiosity at the adjusted posture, Dan pulled him into a kiss. 

When they parted, Dan noticed Arin now shared his blush. “I’m glad,” Dan said, unsure that he could manage to say anything else.

They both turned their heads when they heard the door opening to Ross, who said, “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaze drifted to the floor as he noticed the letter. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Dan and Arin said.

cliche? maybe a little

regrets? none

this was inspired by the book “to all the boys i’ve loved before" :) ps i know dan’s 39 i just picked 38 bc idk

edit: this additional little note is to let y’all know i really am taking writing suggestions almost always so if you have ideas or a prompt from somewhere else you want me to tackle, pitch it to me! the worst i can do is say no (and I probably won’t, unless it’s too terribly nsfw) :D

[izzy-mc-fizzy]

Wilburs talking abt his lil gig and that reminds me that I never told y’all about the concert I saw last week!

Me and my pal Ariel went to see a band called Son Lux at a music cafe in Minneapolis. If you’ve never hear of them they had a song in paper towns, one of their songs was sampled by fall out boy and another was covered by lorde, and most recently they were asked to do the music for the movie Everything Everywhere all at Once (they collaborated with Mitski for one of the songs which was really cool)

It was the weirdest concert I’ve been to, and I could not mean that any more positively. Their music in general is very experimental and kinda odd but their live performance dials it up to 100! Ariel’s a music gal and after the concert she told me she couldn’t count their music meaning they were likely playing together by ear which is crazy! Their lighting designer is also insane (happy belated birthday to him btw, lmao) and it made the whole experience feel so out of this world.

The craziest thing was even with the wild music and lights I didn’t get overwhelmed at all. Maybe it’s bc we stole a table so I got to sit in my own space but it actually was a really chill time and I got to fully enjoy the music and experience!

Overall would 100% recommend their music if you’re into really experimental almost otherworldly music. It really does emphasize the fact that music is an art form that can be molded and played with in ways that only the individual can conceptualize.

[sarkastically]

40. "I laugh along but inside I know that it’s true: Being in love is totally punk rock. (quiet kisses are so hardcore)" but! I challenge you to write it in Chirrut's POV >:3c bc there is a *huge* deficit of it

(I’m so glad you asked for this one. I totally wanted to do it and had always been planning to use Chirrut for the pov because it fit him better in my mind. Anyway, modernish AU. Slightly nsfw. Slight homophobia mentions, nothing major. Sexual situations. Mostly fluff.)

They have a tradition for Valentine’s Day:

They both take the day off and spend at least two extra hours in bed, waking languidly and at their own pace, which mostly means that Chirrut wakes as early as normal but lets Baze sleep and Baze, who often sleeps so little, gets a bit of a lie in while Chirrut traces his fingers over his husband’s features and just enjoys the peace and warmth of him in their bed together. Eventually, Baze will stir, and they will cuddle and kiss and whisper hundreds of sappy, flowery things because Chirrut married a romantic, after all, and still has not been able to cure him of the habit. (And he wouldn’t want to, no matter how much he sometimes rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue and chides Baze when he starts fretting about the fact that the table isn’t set right because it’s not like Chirrut can see it. Baze could simply tell him that it’s fine, and he would believe him. But this is Baze, and Baze steadfastly does not lie. He just fusses and worries and waxes poetic all day long.)

Once they manage to pry themselves out of the warmth of their bed and each other, they settle into the kitchen where Chirrut prattles and makes the tea while Baze fixes whatever insanely complicated but delicious thing he has planned for breakfast. From brioche to French Toast to strange muffins to bagels to beignets, Chirrut has tasted everything his husband bakes, and it is all good, to varying degrees. He likes some things more than others. And some dishes require a more strenuous exercise routine in order to keep them from sticking to places that Chirrut does not want. Baze fusses about that, too, about how slim and toned and perfect Chirrut remains while he has a layer of fat stretched over his own muscles that will not shift or move and seems to get worse with each passing year. Chirrut only runs his hands across the expanse of Baze’s chest and thighs and ass (especially his ass, Chirrut is fine with every single bite of brioche going right there) and tells him, over and over, how much he loves it, how attractive it makes him until Baze is flustered in an entirely different way that typically ends with one of them giving the other a blowjob in the middle of the kitchen behind the island but still in front of the full-length glass windows, though they face the sea so Baze only needs to worry about nosy mermaids and birds spying on them. Chirrut has no such qualms and would happily blow his husband in front of windows facing their neighbors if Baze would concede to it. But he won’t. Not even on Chirrut’s birthday. He’s asked.

After breakfast, they shower together, fingers running through the water and over bodies that have changed with time but so gradually that they know each other as well now as they ever have. And Chirrut washes Baze’s hair, which makes him moan and sigh in the way that always leads to more kissing and lingering touches and then if Baze’s knees are cooperating, sex in the shower. This has gotten progressively less common as they age and, admittedly, a little harder, but still good. Just as everything they have together is good.

Sometimes, when Baze’s knees are not cooperating, like today, they tumble out of the shower in a flurry of wet skin and barely thoroughly conditioned hair to take the petting and lovemaking to the bed where Baze is as gentle as always, and Chirrut is all smiles and slow, tantalizing thrusts until he can get Baze wound up enough to be as vocal as he wants him. Baze has a voice that echoes through his body like an earthquake, and Chirrut loves to hear the house filled up with his shouts of pleasure when he hits just the right spot. Nothing makes him harder, nothing makes him come quicker than hearing how much Baze enjoys it when they are intertwined.

Sprawled on the bed, which is wet now so the sheets will need to be changed and then Baze will fuss and swap out the duvet as well and probably open the curtains to let the light in and make sure the mattress dries thoroughly, Chirrut catches his husband’s hand and places a kiss on the inside of his wrist, right over where he can feel his pulse, the strong, firm reminder of that heart that beats, each lubdub of it another moment they have together. The best way to keep Baze from fretting over something is to keep him occupied. So Chirrut kisses and laps and runs his teeth over the inside of Baze’s wrist until he thinks that he could come again from the sighs and moans Baze makes alone, the way his husband runs a hand through his short hair, curls his fingers around his neck, insistent but never a threat. Baze has enough strength to crack cups in two in his hands but is the gentlest soul that Chirrut has ever known. He’s heard Baze cry over flowers that will not grow no matter how tenderly he takes care of them. He’s known Baze to weep about how beautiful he thinks Chirrut is when the sun hits him just right. He’s held his hand while he came undone when his mother died even though she refused to speak to him after they married, a blow that Baze has still never quite healed from.

His love gives people pause on the street, but cups insects in his great palms to ferry them outside rather than squash them. It’s Chirrut people should be wary of and then they never are. Fools, the lot of them.

“Love,” he murmurs, lifting his mouth from Baze’s wrist, and tilting his head in the general direction of where he knows he is based on the sound of his breathing and where he can feel his warmth.

Baze hums in response and the hand on Chirrut’s neck tightens just a little, enough to make him close his eyes and sigh.

“Do you remember our first Valentine’s Day together?”

This time Baze laughs and Chirrut could sprawl out in that warm sound and sleep, like a cat in the sunshine. “That punk rock show, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I hated that. It was too loud and there were too many people. And I couldn’t talk to you.”

“You hate talking.”

Baze does not rise to the bait, and Chirrut is teasing anyway. Baze does not like talking, but Baze likes talking to him. Baze will talk for hours, and Chirrut likes nothing more than to settle his head on his chest and listen to him and feel him talk. The more animated about something Baze gets, the better it is because it changes the vibrations of his voice, makes something flow inside of his chest like a lantern. When Baze talks about him, his endless flowery poetry voice, he always glows.

“I couldn’t hear you. I love listening to you,” Baze says instead of protesting.

Chirrut laughs, and he can feel Baze turn more toward him, his other hand coming to rest on his hip, thumb tracing idle circles against the skin. “We remember it differently. I loved it.”

Baze hums again and the thumb presses into his skin slightly, a signal for Chirrut to continue talking.

“It was our fourth date, I think. And it was strange because I loved you. I had loved you for so long, but it was. I knew your mother wouldn’t approve so I was always hesitant about it, about loving you, about wanting you and letting you know because I was not going to be that for you, I was not going to make you choose.”

Baze’s silence has changed, grown more somber, and Chirrut presses another kiss to his wrist to try and staunch the sadness before it grows. That is something he has to watch with Baze, the man is as full of emotions as the sea is flush with water, adding more just causes problems, people drown.

“There, there, my love. There, there,” he croons, and Baze’s thumb goes back to tracing idly over his skin.

“So I thought I would ask you to accompany me to a place that would make you the most uncomfortable because that would give you a good reason to let me go if you wanted to if you needed to. I know you. You hate to disappoint, but you hate even more to be uncomfortable.” Chirrut stops, smiles, and he knows that Baze is watching him. There is a weighty quality to Baze’s stares. It is like being surveyed by an otherworldly creature; an otherworldly creature that adores you.

“But you said yes. I didn’t think you would. You came. And when the moshing started, you stood behind me, and you wrapped your arms around my shoulders to hold me steady, to make sure that I was alright.”

Baze presses a kiss to his shoulder, a silent urging on.

“I considered decking you for that because I was capable of taking care of myself, and I was used to the punk shows. And then I thought, ah me, this man wants to take care of me. This man is willing to be uncomfortable for me because I enjoy this thing.” Chirrut reaches up to find Baze’s face, fingers tracing over his lips and into his hair. “And that was when I knew that not only did I love you but that I was not going to love anyone else other than you.”

Baze’s voice sounds thick and strained when he speaks, and Chirrut does not need to touch his cheeks to know that he is crying. “Do you remember after the show?”

“Yes,” Chirrut leans forward to kiss him. “I remember. All your soft kisses. So quiet. So shy. Peppered across my skin like you thought I was fragile when I finally managed to seduce you enough to undress me.”

“I was scared that I would do it wrong. Or that you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, no. Never.”

“Do you remember what you said to calm me?”

Chirrut laughs again, slides closer, one leg slipping between Baze’s to apply firm but gentle pressure to his already hardening length. Maybe they will not get around to the rest of the tradition today, after all. Chirrut would not mind. “I do,” he whispers into Baze’s ear before his teeth tug gently at the lobe and Baze’s hands slide around his waist. “I told you not to worry. That you were hardcore. That we were punk rock. You were so startled I thought you were going to shake apart.”

Baze’s finger skates across Chirrut’s lip and then lower, spreading out over his chest. “It was your fishnets that shook me. Not being called punk rock. I was in a cardigan. I was the least punk rock thing about that night.”

“No, dear, our being in love in and of itself is punk rock.” Before Baze can protest, Chirrut slots their lips together, loses his tongue in Baze’s mouth, lets all their sense rush out in the tangling of limbs, the new crescendo of sighs and gasps and moans, the slow building to cries of pleasure loud enough to make him grin the smile that Baze always calls shark-faced.

Afterwards, instead of getting dressed up for a fancy dinner, they order pizza and spend the rest of the night in bed, trading quiet kisses. It is still just as punk rock as it was all those years ago even without the addition of a mosh pit or loud music or fishnets.

[possiblydave]

So after I tried the memory walk for Meenah, which was a bit of a struggle, I decided to try another walk, and, realized I should try for Roxy, since I'd been questioning her for a while. It actually worked and it helped me figure out some stuff!! (reference to drinking below, since I followed canon to an extent)

Strangely enough everything I recalled was specifically first person perspective which - happens for a lot of them but usually I have some conscious awareness of my own appearance as well. but this was extremely first person so I didn’t get a good sense of my own appearance.

 -first thing I recalled is being in my room all alone, looking around at it. It was ... not exactly barren, since it had stuff in it, but it felt more like being in a big white box than an actual room. Super closed off yanno, aside from the door. It was also pretty pretty messy, w my clothes and stuff strewn all over. I took note of the weird wide window on the one side of the room (that one that’s powered -it was dark when I saw it in my dream so maybe it was turned off?) I remember standing and looking around, seeing my computer on the desk, and thinking about how something felt off, before remembering that I’d been drinking, so everything was a little skewed. I had another memory of laying on the floor n feeling that way, idk if I toppled or was just laying around drinking. Both of these memories I felt distinctly unhappy and depressed.

-Next mem was still in my room all alone, but I was messaging calliope? The thing is, though, is I called her callie so idk where that is on the tl - i got super confused too once I realized that. After rereading some of Roxy’s parts in canon though, that’s what happened when she met Calliope in the Dream bubbles, so maybe that’s what that memory was in relation to? 

-I’m not sure if these 3 mems of being in my room are all from one point in time or several. I feel like the first two are from similar points in time but the one with Calliope wasn’t.

 -Next memory I had was vastly different setting. I was visiting Jake on his planet (LOMAX). I distinctly remember I was godtier, and flying up one of the mounds to find him at the top? In fact, I’m pretty sure it was this memory fragment I dreamt about a while back (the one w flying to meet someone, not the one with possibly Roxy). It feels a lot more right to say that was a Roxy memory. 

 -When I got to the top of the mound I found Jake, he was curled up, hugging his knees and crying, I approached him from behind. We were both in godtier, so he had his yellow leotard thing and whatnot. I remember pretty distinctly he had darker, more tan-colored(?) skin, and dark brown, kinda curly hair. he had a lot of scars too, I noticed them on his arm while trying to talk to him (they were like battle scars, nothing bad I don’t think). He never turned to face me so I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I think I saw his eyes were green. I dunno his height either since he was curled up, but he had a sorta stocky build, a bit thicker and more solidly built.

-Jake was crying and upset thinking about all the shit that’d happened to us, especially for him what happened with Dirk and Jane (this is post godtier, so after things w Dirk got fucked up and after Janey blew up at him while prepping for her Bday, among other things). He was too busy staring ahead, while I tried to angle around to see his face. He was so hurt, and sad, and mad.... he was calling himself stupid and an idiot , and when I tried to tell him not to beat himself up over it he kinda got upset real suddenlike, he raised his voice and I wanna say he hit something with his fist? like his knee or something, I’m not sure. (he didn’t hit me at least, but I think it was like, a mix of frustration and wanting to hurt himself. I’m not sure what the gesture was, but it did have me worried about him. :( )

-I kinda backed off on telling him ‘no sweetie ur good ur not bad at all’ or w/e bc I realized he was really upset about everything, not just himself, and I had to admit our gang had been through some....... really bad times. I think I was thinking about the Trickster stuff when I admitted to this, bc my memory switched a bit to looking up and seeing Jane in Trickster mode? I still felt like I was sitting with Jake when I saw this, hence I think I was recalling it.

- I have to admit that Janey was really terrifying to see like that irl, her grin was unnatural and she almost seemed glitchy? Or like shifting in and out of focus or smth, and there was a bit of blue energy crackling around her here and there. She looked kinda insane tbh, and I was so scared when she found me. I dunno about her hair or skin tone bc the trickster mode probably fucked with that (her skin was white, her clothes predominantly yellow, her hair was blue though instead of pink? At least I think it was), but she was chubby, maybe a pear shape body type? She was chubbier than Jake’s build at least. 

 -I tried to recall other things but didn't get much - I was briefly on the lily pad when everyone was meeting up, I tried to see if I could see any of the other Alpha kids nearby, but Rose was sitting in front of me, so I couldn't see past her.  I was super excited though since I was talking to my mom (I called her that in convo though I can’t recall what we were talking about) I didn't get a solid visual for Rose but i feel like she was kinda like a siamese cat in terms of impressions - elegant and sleek and almost otherworldly tbh? I kept getting the impression she had like, a long face, high cheekbones, and silky hair, and was tall and slender, but with broad shoulders. I tried to imagine her as other bodytypes in case I was affected by canon portrayals, but that’s the image that stuck with me.

-I briefly looked over at Dave, who was sitting next to me - I didn’t get a good visual of him at all, but I do know it wasn’t my own Dave tl (I tried picturing it and that felt all wrong.)

That’s where I had to stop, since my memories were becoming less clear plus I had to go do other stuff but? Yeah, some pretty solid stuff. I’m hoping I can find my Jake, since I’m kinda worried about him. Plus I felt really close with him, I think I considered him one of my closest buds after all was said and done. :]

[imtheperfectvoid]

what is delta green? is it like a modern day d&d?

Delta Green’s a bit different than D&D, mostly in the sense that it’s not fantastical and full of dwarves and orcs and stuff.

Rather than being Tolkienian, it’s more Orwellian/Lovecraftian, centralized around the idea that there’s otherworldly forces and dark creatures from alternate dimensions. Like, Cthulu-type shit.

Delta Green is the name of a sort of covert government intelligence agency that’s a little... off the books, so to say. It’s a collection of “agents” who were selected based on their current/past involvement in government (Navy, ex-police chief, prosecutor, etc.) or on their merits and skills (highly-successful criminals, non-governmental engineers, UFC champions, etc.), and they’re put together on a team to find out the secrets behind a natural horror that’s taking hold of the world under our very noses. Everyone we meet must either remain unfamiliar with us or be put 6 feet under. Every artifact, weapon, and item we collect, ultimately, must be destroyed so as to avoid issues. Every bond (a loved one or close familiar not involved in this in any way) must be kept as far away from this mission if we want to keep them safe and alive. Every agent may disclose personal information to one another as they so choose, but we must also keep in mind that every agent is a stranger to every other agent; therefore, disclose at your own risk.

This game also will make your character go insane- it’s literally unavoidable; you’re dealing with outer-dimensional Cthulu-type shit- so tracking your sanity points is a very important factor while playing. If you surpass your breaking point, you will develop a mental illness/ailment that hinders you in some way, but may also benefit you down the road, if the cards fall into the right place (example: Brandon’s character now has depersonalization disorder, and he got into a situation where all 4 players were to meet back at our hotel suite. He was by himself in a library, and he started disassociating and just sat there until we decided to go get him ourselves. Had he gotten into his car like he was supposed to, he probably would’ve died because someone put a bomb in his car engine.)

This does take place in modern day (like, super modern day. Out campaign began, in-game, on December 16, 2016, and will continue to stretch into the future), so no fantastical weaponry or made-up stuff. However, this does mean sick-nasty modified Heelys that can speed-boost and ignite sparks as you skate (again, technically supposed to be more realistic, but we like to have fun).

It is, without a doubt, one of the most interesting tabletop RPGs I’ve played (mostly bc of our wonderful cast of agents and our equally-excellent GM, Nate). If you wanna know more about it, here’s their website.

10/10 def recommend