#better than having to deal with the feeling of my bones being carved into (metaphorically)

[orcelito]

Unfortunate for me it seems like I have another night in the straitjacket ahead of me (double arm hot pad event)

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

AN EXCHANGE OF MEAT

Late valentines day ZADR drabble, extremely nsfw, takes place in the #izspacetrash universe NSFW 18+ Warning: Petplay, Zussy, Choking, Power play, Power theft, Over-stimulation, flirtatious bullying 

Back on Irk, coupling is illegal. It’s a big deal for humans because they can’t name a rock without forming an emotional attachment, for Irkens however, there’s no reason for the law to even be in place. As a species we have evolved past the need to interact with others. Every individual in the empire has the potential to be a sturdy, self sustaining island unto themselves. We’re built better than every sentient stain in all the known everything!! We have YET to encounter anything that even compares to our size and MIGHT. The last fertile cluster of Irkens died out a thousand decades ago. Every irken is cloned and easily replaced if not functioning at maximum capacity.

So, the desire to do more than indulge yourself is...low. There’s no reason to involve another irken in the matters of ones…..self congratulation.The practice of an EMOTIONAL and spiritual coupling fell out of favor long before we learned to control our natural impulses. 

If this is all true (and it is), how can I feel so much for the vicious neanderthal that calls me his? Dib was working on one of his drones as I sat in the dark pocket of the lower bunk bed, the bed itself built into the wall of a home on wheels. Dibs white rectangular fat assed Arr Vee was parked behind a dunky doughnuts so that we could stay out of the sightline of main roads and siphon power to recharge the vehicles battery. See, the outside of Dibs roaming home looks like any other shitty old caravan. In fact, it is more like Dib’s own mobile base. The battered shell outside the chrome and black and blue innards of the crisp sterile mobile lab are no more than a clever disguise. An infuriatingly smart trick. It’s a trick wrapped around stolen Irken technology and it’s to our collective benefit that everything stays hidden. It’s more comfortable being a prisoner, knowing that Dib has become secretive of his most prized belongings. Legs crossed, back pressed to the wall, chin in hand I was thinking my thoughts. 

My hand drifted down my neck to trace the soft top edge of the lined matte black metal collar locked around my neck. I felt at the difference in texture between the soft barely there fuzz on my skin and the smooth cool metal. It had been locked there for thirty one days, ten hours, six minuets and eleven seconds. It’s some fluke of nature that Dib is as smart as he is. At one point in my career as an invader I theorized that as  humans grew taller, their brain shrunk to make up for the increase in body mass. With Dibs lineage, this is less so. As an adult he is only more cunning, more dangerous, more cloyingly obsessive, more driven. He neglects his sleep to work. He works with the single minded diligence of an Irken researcher. His drive to excel in his field transcends the greasy smelly differences between our kinds. The efficiency he commands my own technology with rivals that of a practiced PAK technician. He’s studied the things I left behind on earth for 14 of his years, and it shows. With a single steady bare claw I traced the shape of the emblem embossed onto my collar tag. Dibs skull shaped symbol, displayed in shiny silver across the front of my neck at all times. An unnecessary humiliation that marks me as one of many stolen treasures. I feel its shape on the bare pad of my finger and silently kiss my teeth, stung by the reality that Dib thought of it first. If the world was just, if things made sense, things would have been flipped, things should have been different. If I really am the more advanced life form, I have no excuse for his subjugation. Thirty one days, ten hours, seven minutes and forty fucking seconds.

From my dark hideaway I could see him, hunched over his desk with the posture of a scoliosis king. A bright white desk light illuminates the front of him and reflects off the cobalt blue shine of his protective eyewear. The blue strips of emergency LED light that mark out the floor area catch the underside of his form, and stripe the wrinkles of his sloppy mechanics smock in toxic blue slivers. Through the gap in the curtains in front of him, I could make out a flickering yellow street light. Dibs sigh broke through the silence. He set down his tool and leaned back in his chair, away from the open shell of the drone he’d been repairing. I watched him drag a long fingered skeletal hand back through his greasy weird hair, and watched the unruly sprig of bone and black people fur spring back up as his hand passed it. “You’re quiet.” The human announced, obviously. Before he could twist the rotating chair around to face me I let my hand fall into my lap and folded both hands neatly together. “My brain is loud.” It needed no explanation, but Dib had demanded the cause. Slouched back in his chair, I watched him copy how I had my fingers folded into each other. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and crinkled his sweaty brow. “You’re thinking? You’re capable of thought?” He’d lick his loathsome incisors and grin. “Damn, I’ll have to correct my notes. I thought the metal parasite on your back did all that for you.” “IT’S NOT A PARASITE! I TOLD YOU! It’s as ME as the rest of ME!” The corners of Dibs eyes crinkled with delight as he watched me retrace the fact. “MY PAK stores the thoughts of my brain jelly- it’s not responsible for my depthy, nuanced original thoughts. It’s all to my benefit. Your simple animal mind can’t BEGIN to perceive the archives of information, understanding and theorizing, locked away between my two magnificent thought centers.” On my knees at the side of the bed, I pointed to my skull, illustrating the thing Dib wished to understand but could never fully unravel. He reached up to peel the lenses of the goggles from the hollows of his eye sockets. As Dib deftly replaced them with the large circular frames of his glasses, he spat noise at me. “You’ve beaten that dead horse to a pulp, Zim. I don’t think your PAK is any different than a circuit board hardwired to the brain of a roach. You’re just as animal as I am. Only, your issues stem from being part evil cyborg, and mine stem from trauma.” Sunny as a blistering summers day, he grinned at me. Smugness radiates from him like pulsar blips, and my innards are assaulted by tight gripping trembles. I tense my core muscles to keep my tymbal from rattling at the slightest provocation. With my antenna pitched slightly forwards, I can smell the pheromones on his sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, raised my chin, curled my lip at him to flash fangs. “Tch. Zim is no creature. You’re the animal here. You have the technology to advance yourselves into a race of space faring monstrosities, and yet all you want to occupy yourselves with is the pursuit of earthly pleasure. Your kind construct elaborate rituals just to try and rutt against each other. It could be so much simpler!!!” Dib scratched his chin, nonplussed. “Yeah, I never really got all that either. We do have dating apps and that can simplify things if you don’t account for catfishing, and people who straight up lie about themselves just to get their dick wet.” I grimaced at the mental image of a wet human phallus. I re-contextualized the image in my head and imagined the organ as Dibs. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sooooo… what? As you get older you stop exchanging meats, and instead swap false personal information?” Dib laughed, quick and dry, brimming with unearned superiority. “Oh, fuck- what you mean like what we did back in grade school?” He sat up, leaned in closer to me. Elbows folded on his knees he hunched closer. I could smell his breath on my antenna. Coffee and sugar and bacteria filled my senses and the stalks flicked quickly backwards at the olfactory intrusion. “Yeah I don’t really know why we did that. I have a theory it’s all metaphorical, some kind of mind manipulation game the government was playing with kids to get them to associate “love” with “flesh”. I mean, you know what “meat” alludes to, right?” My face screwed up as I searched my brain for obvious answers. “MMHhn. HHHMN. Pain? Obviously, pain. Emotional...badness.Maybe hormone tampering. Disease?” Dib was already getting out his phone, snickering to himself as he does when he knows something I do not. I kept going. “Death? Blood? Salt? Disgust? The inevitability of the cycle of consumption? How you’re all doomed to be slaughtered by a greater predatory force?” “No. No- what?” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back up at me. I wanted to rip the piercing out of it. “No. Shut up and look at these.” Dib held out his portable telephone slab to me and on it I saw a digital gallery of meat related memes. The phrase “beat my meat” was prevalent. There were photos of hammers pounding sickly off grey slabs of deceased pig muscle, and a man dusting a sprinkling of salt or spice over a carved rib of bovine corpse.

My head pulled back, giving me the appearance of multiple chins of disgust. My gut churned as I turned my head away. “Why would you show me those??! THEY’RE REVOLTING!!”  

Dib frowned, irritated, and put his phone away. “The “meat” those memes are talking about? It references human JUNK- y’know, genitalia? The memes aren’t talking about actual dead farm animals. And, that’s what I’m saying.” He put his large warm hand on my shoulder and continued, sure to hold my eye contact as he put the curl of his thick broad thumb against my cloth covered collar bone. I tensed my guts to keep my tymbal from rattling. “The government has skool children trade literal meat, so we get the idea early on that we’re supposed to exchange our "meat" with people we're attracted to. So that way, we learn to breed, and the men in power get more workers and soldiers and grease for the wheels of their self destructing machine.” My eyes flicked to look at his hand- the long pale olive fingers, the beaten fight scarred knuckles. My gaze then returned to Dibs humorless expression. “That’s a… problem?” Dib groaned, he rolled his eyes, he took his hand off my shoulder. 

It slid down to my hip, his free hand mirrored the motion  and I was lifted up from the bed and onto my humans lap. He held me there and growled at me in frustration. “YEAh! Zim! It’s a problem! If people are going to have sex it should be their own choice to do so, it isn’t something we should be culturally brainwashed into accepting! And we don’t NEED to do it! Some people are asexual- some people don’t want children and-” Dib rambled, on and on, laying out the injustices of an archaic capitalist system reliant on the breeding whims of its workers. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the argument was fueled by Dibs xenophilic leanings and revulsion towards his own kind. I gave less than a quarter of a shit about the very political tangent my human was going off on, but I did like how Dibs lap made for a nice sitting surface, and how the heat of his angry body felt against my skin. As Dib spoke I smoothed out the front of his damp black wife beater absentmindedly, my expression unmoved. As my hand rested in the center of Dibs chest, I patted him, I then mock pouted at him. “Poor Dib, how he’s been rejected by his own kind at every turn. How hard it must’ve been for you! Brainwashed into needing the fuck, harassed by the need for fuck with noooo options for how to obtain it!!”

That got him to glare at me, and my spine tingled for it. I grinned as he countered; “You’re missing the point.” And I kept going. “Addicted to the unknown feeling he can never hope to attain, his vile monster meat might have shriveled up without the wetness- like an unwatered flower! Like a rotting length of carrot! Like a bundle of seaweed on a beach, growing drier and nastier the longer it’s left alone, collecting nothing but mold and botfly eggs and-” Dib grabbed me by the throat. His hand closed around my throat. He gave a warning squeeze as he told me to shut up and I peeped in response. 

Lowly, my tymbal rattled. 

Dibs narrowed angry eyes softened as he caught the surprised chirp of arousal. 

The words on my tongue stalled at the tight curling of his long fingers as they overlapped my neck.

“Even if that was how things worked, I’m not at risk of that anymore, am I?” 

Dib looked at me with a gaze that implored an answer, and I shrugged coyly. As he frowned and squeezed harder I gagged, my stomach fluttered and a chirp rattled out of me far clearer than the first. 

"Mhhn. That's what I thought."

Dib hummed, his human purr was deep and infuriating. He used his free hand to shift my placement on his long thigh, so that I straddled his thigh as he choked me. My eyes began to water as he raised up his knee and gently bounced my vent against his leg. 

There is nothing playmates can do for eachother that a squidgyblit cannot also achieve the end goal of. However, being choked while your nemesis grinds your pleasure center against his leg hits differently. 

I moaned with a grimace. I scowled at him as he drew another choked out squirm from my body. Unpleasant as the sensation of constriction around my throat was, we both knew the short term strangulation wouldn't kill me. It was a comfortable routine and Dib continued his gloating games. 

"You think you can resist all this? You think you can resist the urge to get absolutely wrecked- by someone who's going to lovingly put all your pieces back together when he's done? You need me as bad as I need you, you fucking moron."

He’s wrong. I don’t need him. But, his games are so amusing, they’re so entertaining. It’s such a thrill to be obsessed over. If he ever knew that, it would all go to his head. As bad as he already was, there was ample room for things to get worse. Dib pressed his fingers up underneath my jaw and held my mouth shut. My growl came out as a choking sound, I tried to open my mouth wider and he put his free hand on my shoulder as a threat. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk right now. Why don’t you show me what you want?” I glared, I tried to hack out a rebuttal, but he didn’t want that. Pink heat spread across the skin of my face plate, I chirped and ground my slick vent slowly against the black jean fabric of his thigh.  In doing so, I inspired an unhinged smile to pull across his gaunt snout.

He released my throat and my posture bent, towards him as I gasped. My throat opened back up, and my PAK hummed softly as it began to replenish its oxygen reserves.

Dib patted my warm cheek with his hand. “That’s a good boy.” He mocked softly. I was well within my right to bite him. His hands settled on the bone of my hips, I watched his eyes pass over my head and point towards the bunk behind me. The curious gentle twitching of my antenna caught the heat of his words as they stood on end, and I lifted my chin to glare up at him. “Is that really what your brain was being so “loud” over? You’re still angry about our arrangement?” My lip twitched, it’s downwards arch could not have been more dramatic. “HOW could I not be mad about it? You know better than ANYONE what a powerful beacon of mayhem my existence is- that I can be controlled by someone as misshapen and weasley as you is a blistering amount of shame for Zim- full offense.” As I spoke his fingers laid over the small of my back, he rubbed along my tense lower spine and his gentle ministrations forced my aggressively postured antenna to lower. “Oh, full offense taken. But I know you’re happy about it. Deep down, somewhere in your cold blooded brain, there’s a tiny Zim just glowing over how it feels to be fully appreciated. You’re a hideously evil space terror, I can’t take that away from you by loving you. And I wouldn’t want to.” The heat in my face wouldn’t stop, the fluttering sickly feeling in my guts wouldn’t go away. Like knotted strings being unwound or spider web being gently tugged by a trapped fruit fly, the vibrations of his words unwound my nerves. I had to look away from him to speak, the weight of his useless human affection was too heavy to bare the brunt of head on. It was blasphemy that something a horny ugly alien said to me could mean more than the approval of any tallest. “MMMhhNNG. Stop making words.” I growled politely. Dib chuckled without malice, he curled in over me to press his lips to the crest of my skull. “You love serving me.” “Phheh. Zim loves nothing.” “You love what I’ve done to you, Zim. And I can prove it.” Dib lifted me up to move us onto the bunk bed, and bumped the front of his proportionally massive head against the shelf of the top bunk. “Fuck-ow,” “HAH!”

I reached up to hit the button on the bottom of the shelf, and the top bunk folded up against the wall behind it. As the mechanical components hissed, Dib rubbed his five head. “Yeah? That’s funny? You think your master getting brain damage is just hilarious don’t you?”

“If my “master” (I used my fingers to make mock air quotes) is dumb enough to turn his brain to garbage when we aren’t even under attack, he’s not showing mastery over anything, is he?” Dib dropped me out of his arms and onto the bed, I landed with a yelp of surprise though the impact came painlessly. “HEY!”

With his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed Dibs hands flew over my body, grabbing and groping, pulling off boots and leggings, striping me of the new uniform I’d been given, replacing dark blue cloth with an expanse of green skin. There was ample evidence to suggest Dibs need was as urgent as my own, from his feverish actions to the telltale tenting at the front of his tight emo boy pants. He needed me. I gave a quick shiver twitch at the feeling of air on my exposed skin, and hissed at him. He pinned my chest down with one hand, and sneered at me as the other cupped over my pelvis. “Your standards are way too fucking high for someone who screws up constantly.” I grinned at him with challenging eyes as my legs folded up and opened. “Where would your challenge be if I lowered them, Dib?” His middle finger split the wet slit of my vent open. He traced the sensitive pink interior and I had no choice but to draw in an afflicted breath. The finger slid deeper, he brushed the base of my wriggling dwarf ovipositor, and the distraction sent my antenna fully back. “You, crave conquest.” I crooned, distracted. Sensations continued. I felt the shivers of pleasure in the back of my teeth, my tymbal rattled with quick twitching clicks each time his middle finger teased the inch length of my pink wiggly hot button. “You don’t know what I crave, Zim.” I cackled, light and airy and I gripped the blankets beside my face. I bit my lip and looked at him. His thumb slid into my slit and he gently pinched his fingers around my “dick”. I gasped sharply. I kicked out a heel as he pressed firmly enough to make me whine. I could not help how my eyes wanted to roll back into my skull at the continued friction, but I swear I caught the reddening of his cheeks before vision became meaningless. I do know. I chirped, I moaned, I rubbed my cheek into the soft blankets stained with floral detergent as the tingling feeling of goodness rolled from my loins up the rest of my body. I felt good, and I made it LOOK good. Dib likes to watch me writhe, and in return he  rubbed over and over, again and again he rubbed, till it seemed I was breaching a new level of tingly bliss with every passing second. “But, I know what you want, don’t I?” I groaned in disagreement, his fingers stalled on my sex, then his thumb rubbed small twitching strokes at it’s base. I trembled all over at the teasing agitation, and breathed out hard. “MHn, you’ve… got AN idea, of it.” Dibs motions were less practiced as he set out to release his tube steak from it’s denim cage, but he didn’t move his hand from the source of my sultry keening sounds. He wouldn’t, I had been so SO fucking good to him. Letting him work uninterrupted without a single complaint of boredom. I hadn’t tried to attack him in DAYS. It was a personal best record at the time. I was overdue for a reward.

“UHM, EXCUSE YOU??” Dib took his hand out of my vent and I sat bolt upright on my elbows, glaring at him in a sex flushed daze as I watched him inch the clothing down his nearly non-existent ass. “I WAS BUSY. Who said you could STOP?”

He pushed me back down, grabbed my leg and sharply fixed himself between my open thighs. “I’m not stopping, you know I’m not stopping you shrill shitty bedbug.” It spiraled into more routine. In the act of copulation I could always count on the sensation of his fingers sliding into my orifice to pull it’s tight walls steadily open. I could feel all the bumps and ridges, the rough calluses, the finger pad curling around my core and pulling delicious sensation from the thing inside me that made my guts twitch and tremble and rattle like a sack of angry crickets. It didn’t take much. I didn’t need long, and he wasn’t willing to hold off from indulging in the ambrosial clutch of a wanting Irken tunnel. I groaned as he withdrew three of his fingers from me, pulling with them a thin strand of pinkish slick that broke and collapsed over my cleft. I trembled, I hissed in disgust with myself as Dib aligned the head of his extraterrestrial shaft with it’s destination. As he looked down on me, he commanded. “Beg.” “What?” My head cocked, one antenna lifted while the other lowered, my hand reached up to wipe the pearling sweat from my brow. “Really???” He ground his length into the gooey mess he’d left my vent in, I grit my teeth as my tymbal rumbled. “Yeah. Really Zim.” “Mhgghh.” Eyes closed I tensed as the friction of dick on dick action swayed my compliance. “ Plleeeeeaaaase.” “Please what?~” I tried to scowl at Dibs goading, but his grinding made me bite my own tongue. “You have to say it, pet. I won’t give it to you unless you ask properly.” The nickname is a scorning stinging wound that burbles and pops like a pollution born wound, it feels like a hot sudden burn, it catches me the way his fingers do when they clamp around my most intimate points. In the most pathetic of tones and volumes, I answer my mate; “Please, please fill me with your cum, master Dib.” I was rewarded by a hand coming to stroke across my skull. He cradled the dome of my head and caught one of my antenna stalks between his fingers. With the same care he gave my cock, he gently strokes the black hairs to reward me. “Good boy. Good bug.” When the rutting commences sense tumbles out the window in a broken screeching fury, like an escaped chimp on meth, like a rat on fire making a break for water. I lose my fucking mind to the reactions of my body. The vehicle rocks under us with the power of Dibs mighty  thrusts.He fills me so deeply with his oversized ovipositor, I can feel his pulsing want bulging against the skin of my stomach at full hilt. When he finally spills in me I am so wound up that I have already hit my climax twice over. I snarl, I lean into him and the lips I have put to his salty skin part so I can taste his sweat on my tongue. My jaws open wider, and as Dib grunts, at the height of his peak, I bite hard enough to puncture his fragile skin on the edge of my teeth. The red taste of metal is smeared over my lips, on my tongue, over the pasty tan palette of his shoulder muscle. Dib hisses air in through his teeth. “You couldn’t- you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His panting breath stalls his words, a red tinted smile spread across my fuck drunk face. I licked my lips as I replied, and watched a thin trail of human red meet up with the black fabric of his shirt and diffuse into it. 

“No, no I couldn’t.” I hummed back at him. In the state of high endorphine swing I am not fully myself. Everything was brighter, lighter, more exciting. A hazy happy drugged exisence takes hold of me and sways me to Dibs whims. As he pulls out of me, he sighs with a shivering buzz. “Then, you’re not done yet.” In a matter of minutes Dib is redressed while I remain naked, wrists and ankles shackled to the four rectangular points of the bunk via metal shackles that the walls of the Arr Vee spat out. I was only just beginning to come out of my fogy mental state when my human retrieved a black blunt vibration wand from a drawer of tormenting devices. Over the following hour I grew more and more delirious as Dib wrung my body out for increasingly mind crushing orgasms. Things stopped having meaning, Dibs taunting words lost their sense, and I rattled straight through to my bones. That I could not pull my limbs in towards myself and protect my body from the assault of sensation had at one point been disquieting, but then and there, it encouraged me to let go of my resistance. I had let go of my fruitless delusions, I had given myself up to Dib, and Dib did not stop till I was crying with the intensity of multiple peaks.

It made up for everything else that had happened. The blinding beacon of his smothering affections absorbed me in it’s garish embrace as he unshackled me from the walls. He cleaned me, he held me in a folded blanket  till the shaking of my overwhelmed body stopped. My prickly insults bounced off him like harmless pebbles of sand.  The Dib stroked over my antenna, groomed them with the sex scented oils of his fingers, the Arr Vee reaked of the smell of our sins. Accepting Dibs terms of affection is illegal, but I’m defective anyways, aren’t I?

[cupcakemolotov]

Back to You

Anonymous said: How do you feel about time travel?  Also I hope your shoulder feels better.

A big thank you to @goldcaught & @klarolinedrabbles​ for all of their help with getting this finished. And assuring me that this plot wasn’t too convoluted. For the anon who gave me the prompt, so sorry this took so long! hopefully 14.5K of fic makes up for the wait?

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Non-Canon Compliant, Time Travel, Mentions Murder & Torture, Blood Sharing, Hurt & Comfort (kind of), Bondage.

The lobby of the hotel she’d staggered into was ridiculously fancy. Shivering, Caroline ignored the side eye she received from the closest bellhop, as his frown was the least of her worries. Around her the marble floors amplified the soft murmur of voices, and for a moment it was like stepping into a different world. 

Which wasn’t an entirely inappropriate metaphor.

Gaze sweeping the lobby, she sighed in relief and made a beeline for one of the large, fake fireplaces. The blizzard outside had been a seriously unwelcome surprise and she was super underdressed for the weather. The tumble she had taken into a snow drift when she’d crashed back into reality had left her annoyed and wet.

Winter sucked. 

Thankfully she was wearing a jacket, but while cute, it was meant for a crisp autumn afternoon. Apple picking, hot chocolate with too many marshmallows. Pumpkin carving. Not this winter hellscape. Her boots were totally ruined, being neither waterproof nor practical for six inches of snow. Her toes were wet and freezing, her hair damp, and she was shaking like a junkie who needed a hit. 

Although that wasn’t entirely from the snow. 

Crowding close to the faux-fire that still produced heat, she set her teeth and took several deep breaths. Not for the first time did she mourn her inability to meditate. A little inner calm would have done her a world of good. Instead her bones ached, her skin buzzed, and she felt like a single misstep would her send her carenning back into the void. 

God, she was so fucking thirsty. 

Time travel was honestly the worst. No one really thought about the after effects of being tossed into the future without a by-your-leave, the way your body took time to catch up to reality while your bones tried to go one way and your brain another. She wasn’t sure a human would survive the experience; being a vampire barely left her equipped to deal with the spell. 

But vampirism wasn’t a fix-all. Not for this. It should have kept her from feeling the effects of the bitter cold and damp hair, but she felt frozen down to her bones. Everywhere the cold had touched her skin, she’d broken out in goosebumps and the chattering of her teeth wasn’t entirely from the shock of being deposited in the future. Nothing really worked right after a skip. Her monster was there with its furious hunger, but her body needed time to catch up to things like not being bothered by the cold. So she shivered next to the fire, bones rattling with reaction to both cold and magic, and cursed the witches who had cast the spell.

Holding her trembling hands to the heat, she bit down on her lip when something pinged against her senses. It wasn’t an awareness, not truly, but she had no other words to define it. Bonnie hasn’t been able to describe what the sensation was supposed to feel like it or even if there would be one, but it seemed like she was in the right place afterall.

Good old Bonnie. Always right when it mattered most, no matter how wrong Caroline had hoped she’d be. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned some of the side effects of her curse, because this help she’d arranged? It had the potential to go wrong in all the worst ways. 

Not that Klaus or her best friend had listened when she’d argued with their plan. Bonnie’s work to isolate the components of the curse that had left her as an unwilling time traveler had finally started to pay off. If only she hadn’t decided to use that knowledge to tie her to Klaus. Caroline had a sinking feeling that some of her carefully kept secrets were no longer going to be quite so secret in a few hours. He had been nosey before she’d started disappearing for years at a time. If their last argument had been anything to go by her little problem had only made his paranoia worse. 

Rubbing her face, she sighed. She had no idea how much time she’d lost this skip. The raging storm outside kept her from finding out too much information, and she’d always found it difficult to pick out immediate changes if the skip was less than ten years. There was no point in asking someone for the date when she’d have answers to her questions soon enough.

Klaus was here, and would likely be looking for her very soon, if he hadn’t already started. She’d been promised that he’d know when she was close. Bonnie had said those words as if they should have made the situation better. It’d been a bit of a shock honestly, but the years she’d spent gone had apparently brought the two to some kind of careful truce. They didn’t particularly like each other, but they’d learned to tolerate and that was more than Caroline had thought would happen short of the apocalypse.

That awareness pinged again, softer this time, and she turned to look at the elevator banks. She still missed the old fashioned ding, hadn’t really adjusted to the near silent opening of doors, but she hadn’t needed it. Not with Bonnie’s magic insist on her skin. But the sight of Klaus, rumpled and intent, hit her low in the gut. 

It had been just a little over a week since she’d last seen him. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but that hadn’t stopped her from missing him. Caroline had no idea how long it had been since he last saw her. The week of silence between them had been deliberate, an attempt to let tempers cool, but whatever time had disappeared in her skip had not. In the week she’d spent stewing, she hadn’t found the words to explain to him or Bonnie why she was so pissed by their bright idea. 

Logically she knew she needed help. This curse was no small thing. She and Bonnie called her disappearances skips, as if she just jumped ahead and everything was fine, but nothing with magic was ever that easy. And there was nothing fun about it. She should have been grateful that Klaus and his endless network of witches and favors was there to help her. That he’d come looking when he’d realized something was wrong. But she had no idea how to say what she was upset about without it coming out wrong. And Klaus would take it whatever she did say in the worst possible way, his anger and insecurities grinding against her own. And yet despite all that, a part of her was thrilled to see him. 

He was dressed as if he’d planned on going out or just returned, his suit pants and dress shirt still neat. Clothing fabric had changed over the decades, but Klaus always wore everything well. And the hint of leather at his throat, the way his shirt fit the width of his shoulders was as tempting as he’d always been. 

Klaus didn’t give her much time to secretly ogle him. His gaze found hers almost before he existed the elevator, the edge of his iris going pale with his wolf. For a moment he paused, as if absorbing her shivering presence, and then Klaus was swiftly crossing the distance between them. 

“Caroline,” Klaus said once he was close enough, his eyes taking in her damp clothing and annoyed expression with a quick sweep. “My apologies for the weather, love. Had I known you’d be popping in, I’d have chosen something a bit warmer.”

She bit the side of her tongue to hold in the acerbic comment that wanted to escape. His apology was genuine, but the very reason why he needed to make it pissed her off all over again. His mouth twitch higher on one side as he easily read her expression and her eyes narrowed.

Instead of commenting, he reached for her hands, expression intent. His skin felt amazingly warm against hers and she nearly shuddered at the contact. Post-time jump always left her achingly sensitive to touch, and she usually tried to avoid it until she’d settled back into her skin. Feeding the shakiness of her bones with blood and sensation had proven to be a bad idea. There were other ways to remind herself that she was real, but the knowledge that she couldn’t hurt Klaus, could ask for nothing he couldn’t give was a heady temptation that twisted her stomach into knots. 

Klaus’ gaze briefly narrowed as he read her reaction, but surprisingly he chose not to comment as he tucked her arm through his and ushered her towards the private elevator he’d just come from. He was hybrid-hot against her side, and she forced herself to ignore the crawling need to plaster herself against him and let the heat and muscle of him sink into her. 

“Still angry then?” He asked lightly, dragging her out of the turmoil of her mind. “I suppose that’s fair. It’s been what? Two weeks or so for you since our last discussion?”

“Argument,” Caroline corrected as they stepped inside the elevator. “It’s been a week since we had an argument. And since I was just dumped into a giant pile of snow, I’m really not inclined to be forgiving.”

“I’d expect nothing else.” His hand squeezed her arm, voice lowering. “Your jump was just a little more than four years this time. You just missed New Years, I’m afraid.”

She appreciated him ripping the band aid off, but it still sucked. She loved the Holiday Season. Klaus, she knew, didn’t celebrate the way she did but he’d dropped more than one hint over the years that he’d make an exception or two for her, if she wanted him too. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d noted her love of the season, but the quiet sympathy in his eyes shook her a little. 

“Of course I did,” she finally muttered. There was no point in pretending she enjoyed missing chunks of her life. Not with him. “Anything else?”

“Nothing of great import,” Klaus said. “I’m sure your friends will fill you in on the banality of their lives soon enough.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “They aren’t that bad.” The ones that were left, anyway. 

He made a low, noncommittal noise and studied her face with an intensity that left her wanting to fidget. “You need blood.”

“That can’t be a surprise.”

Klaus’ head tipped to the side, all teasing gone. “Does the amount of blood you need post-skip change with duration? You’ve avoided saying.”

The elevator doors opened softly, and Caroline tried not to flinch at the unexpected movement. Glancing away, she briefly bit her lip as she took in the extravagance of his hotel room and internally winced at the thought of her soggy boots on the fancy flooring.

“Caroline.” The demand in his voice pushed at her temper, and she bit her tongue to hold in her acerbic response. Picking a fight because she was still pissed at a fight that happened four years ago for him wouldn’t solve anything. 

“Sometimes,” she said finally, shoulder lifting in a shrug. She glanced at him to find his gaze had narrowed and that maybe he hadn’t let their last argument go the way she thought he had. It figured. Still, he held out a hand to keep the doors open so she could exist when they tried to shut, and she took his silent suggestion.

Caroline stepped into the warm room with relief, gaze scanning the space for any immediately noticeable changes. Nothing new that she could see, but nothing that could really anchor her to the present if her mind started to wander. Except the fireplace. There was a fire already crackling, and it had been years since she had seen one. She’d thought wood fires had long gone out of fashion, another one of her childhood mementos gone before she was ready. 

The privilege of the super rich, she supposed with a faint smile. Heading for the closest couch, she sat with a little sigh at the squishy softness of the cushion, and determinedly reached for the zipper on her the first boot. Behind her, Klaus prowled around the couch. Caroline tried not track him, but he was distracting when he decided to decided to take up space.

“You’ve never been a very good liar, love.” His voice was soft as he finally spoke, his words sank like blades between them. “Not to those who know you.”

Her head snapped up, eyes hot. “Excuse you?”

Klaus’ gaze was as annoyed as her own. “Why have secrets at all? Particular about this.”

Caroline spluttered. “That’s kind of rich, coming from you.” 

He suddenly crouched in front of her, his movements almost vampire-fast. His hands caught hers, the shock his warm fingers curling around the shaking bone and muscle of hers. She bit down hard on the tip of her tongue to keep from asking for more, to see if his hands on her skin could smooth the void-cold from her sinew and muscle. She needed blood and an hour or so to start putting herself back together, and she wasn’t sure she was going to get it.

If Klaus noticed any of her internal struggle, he didn’t address it. “Your witch has finally managed to collect a fair number of details on the intricacies of your curse. I have several copies of her notes, should you like to look at them.”

She gave him a wary look. “Thank you.”

His head tipped to the side, and the challenge in his gaze was flecked wolf-bright. “But what continues to be a point of contention between her and I is the lack of clarity when it comes to how the spell affects you. The after effects of a skip and the toll it takes. Just how you recover from each event.”

Caroline lifted her chin. “That’s because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And why is that?” His wolf bled through his eyes then, a sure sign of the temper that had left them both shouting during their last meeting. “You’re still trembling. You’ve avoided letting the Bennet witch or me see you so soon after you return. What does the spell take from you, Caroline?”

A jerky lift of her shoulder. “Nothing blood won’t solve. It was only four years this time.”

His jaw tightened at the bitterness in her voice, the line of his cheekbones sharpening. “And the jump that took seven decades from you? What was the price you paid then?”

“Does it matter?” She snapped back. “You and Bonnie have already decided whatever it is, I can’t handle it. It’s why I ended up stuck here. Tromping through a blizzard. Remember that part?”

His jaw jumped. “Caroline.”

“No,” she said tightly. “I’m halfway to being a vampire-popsicle, Klaus. I want a change of clothes and blood, maybe a shower. Not an interrogation.”

For a dozen heartbeats, she thought he’d dig in his heels and argue. They’d already fought over this point more than once, loudly, and while she didn’t want to go over it again, she would. But instead of picking a fight, Klaus stood. Her hands buzzed where he’d touched her, the skin going cold.

“I’ll fetch you a change of clothes, though it will have to be something of mine. Once the storm dies down, I’ll be able to send for more appropriate things for you. Until then we’ll just have to make do.”

He turned and walked away before she could comment and her heart slammed into her throat. Being wrapped in Klaus’ clothes and his scent didn’t seem like such a good idea when she was so out of sorts. Her monster wanted his touch.

Preferably with both of them naked. 

Closing her eyes, Caroline gave herself a moment to freak out before bending over to finish taking off her ruined boots. Then she reached for her hair band, shaking out her hair before tying it back up into a messy bun. She’d learned that small, easily accomplished tasks helped to ground her and right then, she needed all the help she could get. 

For all that she’d lost over a hundred years of her life since this had started, she’d only experienced seven time-skips. And each jump was it’s very own experience. The first time her curse had kicked in, she had only lost a few weeks, and she’d managed it mostly unscathed. Oh, she’d been sure she had gone crazy, waking up in her house but two weeks later than her last memory. She’d had no recollection of the time having passed and the horror Damon had left behind had threatened to choke her. 

She had called Bonnie, frantic, and her witchy best friend had shown up two days later with supplies and her grimoire collection. It hadn’t been until six months later, when she’d lost four years, that Caroline and Bonnie had really started to understand what they were dealing with. For the first time in her life, she’d felt a strange kinship with Rebekah as she’d found herself lost in what had once been familiar. Not that she planned on admitting such a thing out loud, ever. Disappearing for seven decades had taught her a lot of hard lessons. 

She could go weeks and months without a timeskip, the longest stretch had nearly five years, but she couldn’t really live in the time between. Not when she had no idea, no warning for when she’d just up and disappear. Her newly found wanderlust had been forced to take a backseat to the need for safety. She just wouldn’t risk disappearing and leaving everything behind in some forgein country with no way of getting anything she cared about back. 

So she’d boxed up all her dreams alongside her favorite things and promised herself she’d find them again later. And she never intended to tell anyone about how hard it was for her. Not when she saw the toll her curse took on everyone around her - the way Bonnie lost weight and refused to talk about how difficult the spell work truly was. 

She could still remember the look on Klaus face when he’d walked in the door after her reappearance after seventy years. Bonnie had warned her that he’d come looking, but her skin had still gone hot and achingly aware of his presence as his gaze had burned against her. He’d looked at her in such a way, and she’d been absolutely certain it was only Bonnie’s presence and his own iron control that had kept him from reaching for her.

At that point, it’d been years since she’d last seen him and it had absolutely nothing to cool the heat between them. Unfortunately, it also appeared that they hadn’t lost any of their ability to dig under each other’s skin and their tempers had been fast to heat. Klaus had wanted to know all the details of the spell and she hadn’t appreciated his pushiness. He’d been pissed and frustrated, and so had she, but even as they’d shouted at each other, the fear that he’d bite her, that she’d push him too far, hadn’t risen once. 

It’d been a strange way to realize just how much she’d grown to trust him. Decades of silence between them, and she’d still known with complete and utter trust that Klaus wouldn’t harm her in that way ever again. But knowing how felt against under her hands, the way he could move inside her, had left her aware of every movement he’d made in her presence and the occasional spark of yellow at the edge of his pupil had told her she wasn’t the only one. 

She had asked Klaus to walk away at all those years ago for good reasons. But now she was older, less naive, those reasons hadn’t held up quite so well. But she hadn’t really had time to work through those feelings and the changes between them between skips. And having him so close when she was so off balance wasn’t something she was sure she was ready for. Before this, she’d made a point to put herself back into working order before letting him and Bonnie know she’d returned. 

Both Bonnie had Klaus had been suspicious of exactly what happened when she returned, but she’d refused to discuss it. The mix of guilt and horror, the struggle to remember how to be a person? She hadn’t known how to explain what returning was like without making Bonnie’s guilt worse, Klaus’ rage. Attraction and softer feelings aside, being vulnerable sucked. 

A door shut down the hall, and Caroline glanced in the direction Klaus had disappeared. When he reappeared, she bit down hard on the side of her tongue. He’d rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to bare his forearms, and his hair was ruffled, as if he’d dragged his fingers through it several times. Inside her chest, her monster stirred. 

“I’ve taken the liberty to order in dinner,” Klaus said casually, as if he wasn’t watching her with eyes still pale with temper. “You may have my blood or the bellhops, but I’m going to have to insist that you have some tonight.”

Caroline stood and tried not to fidget at his words. Easily accessible blood bags had become a thing of the past during her seventy year disappearance, plastic also going out of fashion, and she’d adjusted to eating from the vein far easier than she’d ever thought possible. But it had been years since she’d drank directly from Klaus’ vein, and the memory of his taste had lingered. 

“Thank you,” she murmured instead of committing either way. 

His gaze flickered over her face and he handed her the clothes he’d brought with him. “I can show you to a room if you’d like to change.”

Caroline sighed as she accepted the tentative truce he was offering. “How many rooms does this place have, exactly?”

A hint of a smile brought out a dimple in his cheek. “A few. You’ll want one with a proper bath, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes,” she said fervently. His smile widened and he motioned her to follow him. The suit he lead her to was pretty, but all she cared about was the tub she caught a glimpse of behind an open door. “Thanks.”

Klaus tipped his head in acknowledgement before pausing. “When you’re done, we’ll talk.”

Caroline turned to face him. His expression was carefully neutral. “Talk or fight?”

His teeth gleamed but there was nothing particular cheerful about his smile. “I suppose that will depend.”

“Klaus…” she started and then stopped, fingers fisting in his clothes in frustration. “It’s not that easy. None of this is easy.”

“Very few things are, love, particularly where you’re concerned. That doesn’t make you less worthy of my time.” He glanced at the bathroom deliberately, and then took a step away from her. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Caroline bit her lip and watched the door close behind him. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled slowly before letting it out again. It wouldn’t be long enough to slot all of her parts back together, but it’d be a start.

-

 She decided on a shower. 

As much as she had wanted the bath, once the water turned off it would be too quiet with hybrid hearing so close by. Instead she’d sat on the floor of the shower and given herself several minutes to quietly go to pieces. She didn’t cry, she refused. But she shook so hard she was surprised Klaus didn’t hear her bones rattling in her skin. 

Once clean, Caroline had bundled up in one of the thick, fancy hotel robes and sank onto a fuzzy bathroom rug and struggled to get a grip on herself. Dinner would be arriving soon and she hadn’t bothered to do more than wrap her hair in a towel, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand up and pretend everything was okay just yet.

Recovering from a timeskip always came in stages. Arguing with Klaus, the forcefulness of his presence had helped with her strange disassociation, but nothing she’d found had stopped her post-skip reaction completely and she’d held the worst of her reaction off as long as she could. But under the hot spray of the shower, Caroline she’d gripped her shins hard enough to bruise and shuddered. 

Her body needed time to recover from wherever she went when she skipped. As best she’d been able to tell, she didn’t spend a year for a year between time in the empty void she only truly remembered in her nightmares. Her vampirism hadn’t strengthened enough for that to be the case, but she was stronger than she should have been if she simply blinked back into existence. So there appeared to be some trade off. And whatever that place was in between, it lingered in the marrow of her bones until she shook it off. 

And once her body settled, finally adjusting to the fact that she existed again, the blood lust would hit hard. Her monster always rose, greedy and grasping and starved. She’d gotten good at ignoring her thirst until she could contain it, but it was unlikely that Klaus would let her use her usual coping methods.  Assuming she even wanted him to. 

Rubbing her face with a shaky hand, Caroline tried to decide what she wanted. Part of the reason she’d pushed back so hard against against Bonnie’s spell was just how easy it would be to let Klaus take the brunt of her problem onto himself. Part of her wanted to use him as a safe haven, and badly. The wild, bloody part of her wanted to dig her teeth and fingers into his skin and leave a mark.

She always had. 

But unlike her teenage self, the logical, human part of her brain recognized that it was a bad idea but for far different reasons. She didn’t fear the his monster anymore, though she wasn’t certain if she’d accepted it just yet. But she could clearly see a time when she might.  And figuring out what that meant, what she wanted from him? It deserved thought and care, two things she wasn’t sure she’d be able to give him until this curse ended.

If it ever did. 

Forcibly pushing that thought aside, she toyed with the belt on her robe. Klaus wouldn’t judge her for the things she’d done to survive. But admitting them? Letting him see all the bits of her she hadn’t completely reconciled to herself would be hard. Particularly when she wanted to do nothing more than slide her fingers beneath his shirt and see if he would use his body to distract hers. 

Just thinking about it, the odds that he slept naked, left her cheeks hot. Even with rooms, walls and hundreds of square feet between them, he would definitely notice if she tried to get herself off, and that was… a weird mix of arousing and embarrassing. Caroline morosely wondered if she could just lock herself in her room and hide, pretending that she didn’t smell Klaus on her skin while she dealt with the aftereffects of the skip. 

The soft knock of incoming room service interrupted her imaginings, probably for the better. Her body was already hyper aware of the smallest of sensations, and thinking about Klaus touching her, all the things he’d murmured against her skin the last time she had let him, would do nothing to calm her heartbeat.

Pushing herself to her feet, Caroline forced herself to put her underwear and bra back on before pulling the clothes Klaus had given her. His clothing was warm and almost unbearably soft, an outfit he’d worn often. Her chest tightened that he’d given her his favorite things. The familiar scent of his skin and his preferred laundry soap was comforting as she rolled the sleeves up. Running a quick comb through her hair, she decided she was presentable and headed out to see what Klaus had ordered for them. 

The room was empty but a trolley was filled with several things she couldn’t immediately identify, but that didn’t surprise her. Food was weird. It was either exactly the same or something completely new. However, it was a plate of French Fries that left her throat tight. Klaus rarely missed the little details, she’d be willing to bet money that there was a bottle of champagne hidden somewhere. Lips trembling into a smile, she flinched a handful, and ate them one by one, letting the familiar taste of fried potatoes settle her as she finished the plate.  

Licking the salt from her fingers, she looked up just as Klaus walked back into the room. As she watched, his tongue snaked out and caught a tiny drop of blood at the corner of his mouth and she swallowed. Hard.

“Apologies, sweetheart. I’d have saved the bellhop for you, but I wasn’t sure how much time you’d want alone.”

His apology had held a hint of heat to it and she was too jittery to do anything but react. Her skin suddenly felt too tight and flushed. “That’s fine. It’s generally not a good idea for me to... eat so soon after a skip anyway.”

The slightly playful expression on his face disappeared as if it had never been. “Why?”

Caroline hesitated and then sighed. He’d been right. What was the point of keeping secrets when they’d come out eventually anyway? She could lie, but that would damage something between them and she wasn’t willing to let the witches who had done this to her take anything else. 

Lifting one hand, she studied the trembling bones of her fingers. “It takes a while to remember how to be me. And when I do, I always remember the vampire first.” She glanced at him, watched him absorb her words, saw understanding flare behind his eyes. 

“I don’t even know how much time I spend in the void.” The words felt if they were pulled from her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut as a shudder ran down her spine at the thought of the cold terror of her nightmares. If she started crying now it would be awful and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Grimacing, she spun away and stared at the cheerfully crackling fire. 

“How old am I even supposed to be?”

“The number of years spent in the void does play a part, though they assume it’s roughly one year for every ten,” Klaus said quietly as he moved closer, his footsteps soft on the carpet. “Though the witch insisted it wasn’t an exact science. You’ve skipped roughly one hundred and ten years. So you’ve gained between twelve and twenty years of strength. Not significant in the long run, but you’d notice the difference in your finer motor skills.”

Caroline twisted around stare at him, her breathing fast. “How do you know that?”

His lips curled, something darkly satisfied in his expression. “I recently found the last of the line who cursed you. They were a fair bit more intelligent than their cousins. It didn’t save them, of course, but we negotiated their deaths and the deaths of their families on what information they could give me.”

She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling her. The violence. He’d not only killed the witches but their families. But in that moment, it paled in comparison to what he hadn’t said.

“They told you how to break this?” Her words wobbled. 

Klaus’ jaw tightened, eyes bleeding into pale gold. “No. They insisted that once the spell was finished, it is nearly impossible to break it. What means that they could offer have a risk of a your permanent death, and that I will not allow.”

Caroline’s eyes burned. “That sucks.”

His head tipped in silent agreement, gaze unwavering as he watched her face. “However, there is a limit to the spell, sweetheart.”

It took a moment for her to find her voice. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails digging into her skin. “What kind of limit?”

“One time skip for each witch who cast the spell, if the subject survives long enough,” he murmured, cheekbones sharpening with temper. “No human has and you’re the first vampire they’ve cursed. I’m told that ten witches attempted to curse the Bennett line, not a full thirteen. I’m still working to confirm that.”

Caroline’s eyes slid shut and she swayed. Klaus hands slid under her elbows and she gave into the urge to touch him that had been nagging her all evening. Stepping forward, Caroline pressed her face into his shoulder and squeezed his waist hard. “I’ve skipped seven times.”

Klaus’ fingers tangled in her damp hair, and his voice was low when he spoke. “I know.”

Shivering a little, she let herself have the luxury of holding onto him. It was easier to absorb what he was saying when she was pressed this tightly against him, the slow beat of his heart familiar against her ear. She’d skipped seven times. 

That meant she had between three and six to go. 

She was halfway there. 

“Did the witches say why they cast this stupid spell in the first place?” She asked finally, words thick in her throat. “Who thought this curse was a good idea?”

“Revenge,” he said softly. “It appears that Abby Bennett has made an enemy or two over the years. She is difficult to find, so they decided to aim for an easier target. One who was less mobile. It was a matter of bad luck on your part, I’m afraid. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She made a low noise of frustration and tightened her grip on his shirt. Caroline wanted to think that the witches wouldn’t have cast the spell without reason, but she knew that wasn’t always the case. Witches were as monstrous as the rest of them: petty, judgemental and powerful. Humanity could be as ugly as it was beautiful.

“What did Abby do?”

Klaus smoothed her hair. “Once she has been brought to me, I will be sure to ask.”

Caroline reared back and stared at him. “Tell me you haven’t tried to kill Bonnie’s mother.”

Klaus’ face was set into unforgiving lines. “Not yet.”

“Klaus.”

His hand shifted to cup her jaw. “Bonnie Bennett and I have come to an agreement about her mother. I will not lay a finger on the vampire so long as your witch lives.”

The unspoken words that Bonnie’s life would not last an eternity ran between them. Caroline curled her fingers around his wrist but could not find the words to tell him to let it go. Whatever Abby had done, it had led to a great deal of bloodshed. It wasn’t a fight she was prepared to have with him. 

Today.

“If you knew the time slips were limited,” she finally whispered. “Why did you keep us tied together?”

To her confusion, his hand slid away from her face and she was forced to release him. But instead of stepping back, he reached into his pocket and offered her what was clearly an upgraded version of her last cellphone model. 

“That’s a phone,” she said inanely.

“It’s yours.”

“Pretty sure it’s not.” She’d had her phone on her when she’d been pulled into the skip and nothing but her clothing and the occasional hair tie ever came back out of the void.

Klaus’ mouth twitched. “I assure you, it is. You’ll find it exactly as you left it. Your friends number have remained the same.”

Caroline stared at it. “And you just… had it lying around?”

“Along with your credit cards, bank account information, ID’s and lock box keys,” Klaus stated calmly. “All the things you’ll need to seamlessly enter back into society.”

She jerked back, eyes wide. “What? Bonnie has all my things. Bonnie has…” her words died at the set of his jaw. 

“Bonnie Bennett is mortal,” he said firmly. “Though she is a witch, and I have put a number of safeguards in place to assure her continued existence, she can die. I cannot.”

Caroline threw up her hands. “That doesn’t give you the right to just… take over!”

He lifted a brow. “Why not?”

“Why not?” She repeated, voice rising in pitch. “I didn’t ask you to do this.”

His mouth tightened. “And why is that, Caroline?” She stiffened at the edge in his voice and he stepped closer, voice dipping, gaze hot. “Four skips. The first was for two weeks. The second was four years. The third was for ten. But it wasn’t until the fourth, when you went missing for seventy years, when I came looking, that I was told what was going on.”

She swallowed at the edge in his voice. “I…”

Klaus caught a damp curl between his fingers, fingering the texture for a moment before tucking it behind her ear. “The truth, love, if you don’t mind.”

Caroline let out a bitter laugh. “If I don’t mind? Do you know how much I mind? How I hate losing so much of my life, the lives of my friends?”

His jaw went rock hard. “And yet you choose to face this on your own. Did you think I would not have helped you?”

“It’s not like that,” she protested. 

“Then what is it like, Caroline? Because you’ve done everything you can to avoid discussing it.”

She glared back at his angry face. “Why does everything have to be a fight with you? Do you think I don’t realize that Bonnie is killable? That every single time I skip, I don’t have to face the idea that this might be the one where I’m in a world where she doesn’t exist?

“And yet,” he said ruthlessly. “Seventy years, Caroline; fifty-five of those in which I was aware of your curse. Then another fifteen, not a full six months after your return. In all my lifetimes, never have so many decades crawled by so slowly.”

Caroline froze, staring at the mix of emotions on his face before they disappeared, closed off behind the iron of his will. He angled away from her, facing the wide windows, and it cut into her that she’d hurt him. Not on purpose, not deliberately, but she remembered the six months he spoke of and the way he’d hovered. 

It hadn’t been suffocating, and she’d known that was a deliberate choice on his part. A text here, a call there. The way he’d shown up to argue with her about movies she’d missed and coax her out of the worst of her funks. Seventy years was hard to reconcile, and Klaus had let her set the pace as she’d tried to adjust.

Then she’d disappeared for fifteen years. 

When she’d come back, he’d been angrier and determined. That time she’d gone almost five years without a skip, the longest she’d ever been left to live her life since the curse started.  Bonnie and Klaus had used the time to research the curse and had been ruthless in their tests and their hunt for information.

It’d been during that five year stretch that Bonnie had first come up with her brilliant idea. Caroline had immediately vetoed it. Klaus had taken Bonnie’s side and they’d fought for weeks over it. Before they could figure out a compromise, she’d been tugged away for seven years, and when she’d come back, Bonnie had perfected the ritual. 

In all those years, it hadn’t occurred to her that the fact that she hadn’t called him when she’d first learned of her curse hurt him. Sinking her teeth into her lip, she started to reach for him and stopped herself. If she kept giving into her need to touch she wasn’t sure she’d stop. 

“It wasn’t… I didn’t…” she shoved her fingers through her hair and ground of her next sentence. “I didn’t want the witches to take another thing away from me. Not one thing.”

Klaus’ gaze narrowed at her words, and he twisted around to stare at her with eyes gone pale. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Do you know what it was like, showing back up in your own life four years later? Four years, Klaus. Except I’d lived none of it. Just a blink and the world have moved without me, like I was a record on the wrong track.”

“Caroline…”

She rushed forward, her words tripping over each other. “By the time I returned, Bonnie had at least figured out that it was a curse. The coven responsible had sent her a note. Did she tell you that? They taunted her.” She struggled to keep her monster tucked away as she remembered the moment Bonnie had confessed her guilt, her eyes wide and damp. That anger that still seethed beneath her skin. “She lets the guilt eat her alive. First Elena, then me. I cannot stand that she thinks she’s at fault for any of this. I refused to let her give up her life for Elena, and I won’t let her do it for me, but nothing I say dents her need to fix something that isn’t her fault in the first place.”

“And me?” He murmured. “Because I assure you, love. My resources outstrip Bonnie Bennett’s considerably. As does my rage.”

“But it’s not fair,” Caroline blurted, shaking her head. “To ask you to come in and cleanup messes that aren’t yours. Should I have called you? Probably. And I’m so sorry you worried. But I didn’t want you to think the only reason I’d ever call you was to fix things and I just…”

Squaring her shoulders, she groped for the right words. This was too important to screw up. Seeing the rage fed by the gouges she’d unknowingly left behind, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Klaus cared. 

“We’re friends. Of a kind,” she started, voice hesitant, cheeks growing warm at just how much they weren’t just friends. “And after that first skip, I didn’t want some stupid spell to dictate when you came back into my life. It really, really sucks. And I hate it so much. But you’re important, and I just… I’m not going to just use you and then expect you to walk away all the time when I’m not ready to give you anything back. That’s not fair and I…”

Her words died as Klaus’ hand slipped back into her hair and he stepped close enough that if she breathed too deeply, her breasts would brush his chest. There was something hunting in his eyes, and she bit down on the side of her tongue to hold in a shiver. 

“Caroline.” 

This time she didn’t manage to stop her shudder, as his thumb feathered behind her ear. “What?”

A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were dark with want. “You think this is important. That we, are important.”

Her toes curled against the floor. “Yes.”

“And,” he continued. “To be clear. You didn’t call me because?”

It was a struggle to keep from fidgeting under his unblinking gaze. “I wanted to call you for me.

Because I wanted too. Not to come in and fix something.”

His free hand curled around hers, and without breaking eye contact, he brought the underside of her wrist to warmth of his mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart. But your concerns are unnecessary.”

She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to stay mad with his mouth so close to her skin. Her monster was so greedy for the feel of him. “Excuse you?”

His smile pressed against her wrist and his gaze dropped to trace the shape of her lips. “It is no hardship, to give you what you need.”

“But…”

His teeth scraped against the veins along her wrist and she shuddered, teeth clicking as her mouth shut. “No. You are still so young, Caroline. I understood what I was saying, all those years ago when I told you my intentions. What it would ask of me. I’m a monster, and I will make no apologies for that, but I have no intention of being yours.”

She sucked in a breath at his bluntness. She wasn’t sure she would have managed it if their positions had been reversed. “I need to learn how to handle my problems on my own.”

His brow arched. “Did you not just claim we are something like friends? If you can call the Bennett witch for assistance, then I see no reason why you cannot do the same with me.”

“Yeah, well, there are some differences,” Caroline muttered. 

His eyes gleamed with amusement for a moment but his face grew serious. “Sweetheart, you cannot have imagined that I wouldn’t eventually notice your disappearance? That I would not worry?”

Caroline flinched and his fingers tightened around hers. “At first, no. It was…”

His brow rose, and he pressed her hand against the scruff of his jaw. Goosebumps trailed down her arm at the sensation, and she struggled to suppress a shiver. “It was?”

“I don’t… the world doesn’t always fit back together right away. It never occurred to me that I’d be gone so long that you’d notice.” She blew out a breath and pressed her lips tightly together at the horror she’d felt when they’d realized the extent of the curse. Klaus tugged lightly on her hand in invitation, and she gave up on keeping any kind of distance between them if he was determined to go over the details. 

“Tell me,” he coaxed once she’d settled against him, her face pressing against the side of his neck. 

“It wasn’t until the second skip that we even figured out what was happening,” she finally murmured. He was silent, but he pulled her closer, arm curving around her hips. He probably already knew all this but the words just tumbled out. “There was no warning or pattern to it. I was here one day and then I… wasn’t. Two weeks. Four years. Ten. In between the skips, I got to exit for a total of six months.” She felt her eyes grow hot and swallowed down the tears she refused to let fall. “I don’t remember the void except for when I dream about it, but it…”

He squeezed the nape of her neck at the hitch in her words. “What happens when you return?”

Caroline was silent for a long moment. “I told you I have to relearn how to exist.”

“But not the details. I want them.”

“Of course you do.” Caroline huffed, but made no move to pull away. It was easier to talk like this when she didn’t have to look at him. Now that she was talking about it, she found that she actually wanted to keep going. “The void takes something from me. It clings. And the worst the skip, the more my first instinct is to drown it out when I’m back.”

“How?”

She felt her face grow hot, wondered if he could feel it. “At first? Blood. Sex. Anything that made me feel like my body was mine again. Now I try simpler things first. I try not to eat until I stop shaking.”

“Does that bothers you?” Klaus asked. “That you’ve needed to take to survive?”

Toying with the edge of his shirt, Caroline considered his question. She wasn’t sure bother was the right word to describe how she felt about the loss of control. The way her body felt like she no longer belonged to it, how she craved sensation to drown out the echoes in her bones. 

It sucked. A lot. But other things were worse.

“I don’t like that I might hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it,” she finally admitted. 

A tug on a curl, and Klaus wound his fingers through damp strands. “Have you?”

“Yes.” The word tasted bitter. “It took me three days to find all the scattered body parts after I was gone for seventy years. There was a group of college kids out having a party and I killed all of them. I just...I wanted their families to be able to bury them whole, well, as whole as I could manage, at least. I don’t remember any of what actually happened. But sometimes I think I dream about it.”

The cold dark of the void and the hunting terror on her tongue. The sick feeling in her stomach and the greed in her bones for more. She always turned on every light in the room after one of those nightmares and opened all her windows, listening for sounds outside of her room. A reminder that she was alive and existed, even when that existence could be stolen from her. 

“The witch who decided to cast the curse is named Jolie.” Klaus said softly.

Caroline pulled back enough to see his face. “What?”

“She lives in a little cottage outside of New Orleans.” He continued, sliding his hands down to the small of her back. Anchoring her to him. “And every time you disappear, I go and pay her a visit.”

“But…” she stammered, mind racing at the hint of menace behind the word visit. “She must be…”

“Nearly a hundred and fifty years old.”

Caroline stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

His head lowered until his forehead pressed against hers, and his voice was terribly intimate as he spoke. “Would you like to know the details of those visits? I hunted Katerina. I allowed her to build and rebuild her life over and over, and I always took her little kingdoms away. Everything she touched turned to ash and dust, because I willed it. But I allowed her to have those years between, so that it would hurt more when I took everything away. I have not been so generous this time.”

“Generous,” she repeated, voice dazed. 

“Jolie’s life is small. Contained. It offers no joy, and in the wake of your disappearances, no relief.” His eyes held hers with unblinking intensity. “It will be centuries yet before I allow her the quiet of death.”

Her mouth was bone-dry as she rasped out a single word. “Why?”

Klaus’ laugh was warm on her lips, but the sound of it was as bitter as her own. “Why? For fifty-five years, your witch and I waited. There was no sign that could be given that you lived, that you would survive what had taken you. No witch I questioned had heard of such a spell, and those who might have helped instead choose to hide.”

The rage in his voice, the tenseness of his arms around her told far more of the story than his words. For seventy years, she’d tumbled through a void and for most of those, he’d waited. Once, she would have thought such a thing impossible. That anyone would choose her, choose to wait though her return was no easy thing. But Klaus had proven over and over that the regard he’d given her when she’d been so young was no fickle thing. 

Her life was all kinds of screwed up, but one day soon she was going to really think about that and her own feelings. What it meant to love a monster. But not just yet. Reaching up, Caroline placed her faintly trembling hand over his heartbeat.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” Klaus said as he straightened. “I do not need them. Not from you. Not about this. But Caroline, I will not go another half century waiting for word of your death. There is nothing I would not do to ensure your happiness, no atrocity I would not commit to keep you safe. But even I have my limits of what I can endure.”

She stared at him, the stark lines of his face. Taking a careful breath, she exhaled slowly. “Tell me why you asked Bonnie to bind us together.”

“The world changes,” he said finally, carefully. “And not always for the better. When I first broached the subject with the Bennett witch, it was to see if we could tether you to a location; create a magical bouy if you will.”

Caroline considered that. “A location? Like a house?”

A tip of his head. “The goal was to find you a you a safe haven of sorts, so that no matter what condition you were in when you landed, there would be no immediate threat. That you could receive whatever help you needed immediately.”

Her fingered tangled in the worn leather of his necklaces. “You’re definitely not a building.”

A laugh, rough and deep in his chest. “No. The spell the witches cast, it only clings to flesh and bone. To alter it, we had to bind it to the same.”

Caroline studied him and weighed his words against her anger that they’d made this choice for her when so many had been taken away. The terror and the horror of coming back to herself and finding the room painted in blood and terror, her monster gorged and so unbearably full. She gave herself just a moment to wonder how it might have been different if Klaus had been there and started to understand his point.

She didn’t have to like it though. 

“I might understand, but I don’t like the fact that you both just decided this without me.”

Klaus sighed. “I can live with your anger, sweetheart. But not your death.”

Her brows come together. “What happened that your being so much more paranoid than usual?”

His thumb traced along a knot in her spine and she struggled not to lean into the touch. “That is a story for a different night, I believe. And I will answer all your questions, though I’m sure you will not appreciate all my answers. But there are a few things you should know.”

Gaze narrowed in a silent promise she wouldn’t forget, she frowned. “Like what?”

“As I’m sure you’ve realized, we expect between there to be between three and six remaining skips.” Something dangerous flickered through his eyes. “I’ll have a firm number in another week or two. But while the witches have insisted there are no set triggers for the spell, Bonnie has been going through the grimoire collection I brought her. She will know more soon.”

“Do I want to know how you managed to find an entire grimoire collection on an impossible spell?”

His lips curled. “I did tell you the latest batch of witches were more reasonable.”

She probably didn’t want to know then.

“Okay.” She studied a small bead on his rosary, gathering her thoughts before glancing up at him. “I can deal with this. It’s better now that I know it’ll be over one day and I’m not stuck with endless cycles of losing years my life.”

His eyes softened. “I know. But until it does, I will guard what you love, Caroline. Tomorrow, we’ll go through my properties and you can decide if you like one enough to call it yours until this is over.”

She blinked. “Klaus…”

“You can’t want to spend what time you have between skips in a guest room, Caroline. There is the potential for years between them, after all. When the curse is gone, when you are free, I will not clip your wings. Everything of yours in my keeping is yours to take back whenever you wish. But providing you with a safe place where you can live while we wait this out is no hardship.”

“I’ll think about,” she said finally. About all the things he was offering her. He nodded and she took a bracing breathe. “Tell me about the spell Bonnie cast.”

“Your witch is certain it will dissolve with your curse,” Klaus assured her. “And if it doesn’t, it is not a difficult spell to break. Simple is sometimes best, when it comes with magic.”

“And it only does what you’ve said?” She pushed. “You’re now my indestructible magical buoy, and the spell drops me within a set radius of you when we it spits me back out. That’s it?”

His mouth tilted up at the edge. “You don’t trust me?”

She scoffed. “Not about this.”

“So suspicious,” he teased, eyes warm. “It does everything as we’ve told you. The only  additional component is that it allows me to sense you, for lack of a better word. It’s how I felt your return tonight. But more importantly, it means I know that you are alive, no matter how long you are gone. I would know if something went wrong the moment it happened.”

Her heart lept into her throat. “Aware of me how?”

Klaus shook his head. “It’s strongest when you first land. Right now, it’s so faint it’s barely discernible. When you are in the void, it’s softer still. A pulse I must look for to feel, but one I know quite well.”

“Oh,” Caroline said softly, turning it over in her mind. What such a spell would mean and she nodded. “That’s okay then.”

He arched a brow. “It is?”

She gave him a reproachful look. “I don’t want you or Bonnie to worry, Klaus. It’s better for you to know if something goes wrong, than for you to always look at the future and wonder. That I don’t mind, as long as it is all it does.”

“Hmm,” Klaus murmured. 

“You cannot think I’d argue over a way to tell if I lived or died in the void?” She asked in exasperation. “Bonnie, at least, would deserve to know.”

Her fingers tangled in his necklace despite her biting words, and a dimple peaked from his cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do,” Caroline suggested as her fingers brushed his throat. “You should also note that I’m going to be super pissed if I get dunked into something like the Arctic Ocean. No trips to Antarctica when I’m not here.”

“Noted,” he murmured, voice low and warm. His gaze dropped to trace the curve of her mouth, and Caroline become achingly aware of every place they were pressed together. The splay of his hands, low on her back. “I’m sure if it did happen, I could make it up to you.”

Her pulse jumped, and she took a shaky breath. “Do you really want to test that?”

Klaus made a low noise in his throat. “I believe I  have an idea or two that might coax you into forgiving me after such an unfortunate event. But perhaps such a thing should be a surprise?”

The heat in his eyes, the way his thumb had started to trace shapes against the bumps of her spine left her with a number of ideas. But such a thing should not be encouraged. “No frozen oceans, Klaus. Penguins are cute but I don’t want to swim with them.”

“And what do you want, Caroline?” He asked. “You’ve stopped shaking since I’ve had my hands on you, but you must be hungry. Have you waited long enough to take a bite?”

Her fingers clenched around his necklace. “I already ate all the fries.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food.” His smile was sin, and he pulled her hips flush against his. “You should know that I’m willing to satisfy any number of your appetites.”

Caroline curled her arms around his neck and her eyes lingered on his mouth. “I know.”

“Then why the hesitation?” His nose brushed hers, eyes hotly amused. “I remember our time in the woods as being quite good for you. You came for me how many times?”

“Four,” she rasped as his eyes darkened. “And wanting you isn’t the problem.”

“No?”

She shook her head, fingers tunneling through the soft curls at his nape. This she could admit to when it had never really been a secret anyway. “Wanting you was never the problem, Klaus. It’s that I might want you too much.”

Klaus’ smile was a quick, brilliant flash. “Good.”

His head lowered, lips brushing lightly against hers in a clear invitation, and she took it. Fingers fisting in his curls, Caroline opened her mouth hungrily against his. The last time they’d kissed, it’d been rushed. Greedy. A bit of the forbidden mingled with the white hot chemistry that had always been between them. This kiss was slow, just as hungry, but sweeter. He kissed her like he wanted to savor every taste.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt, his palm a brand on her spine, and she complained low in her throat when he tried to lift his head. He smiled, teeth sinking briefly along her bottom lip before he finally pulled briefly away from her mouth. “You need blood.”

She shivered at the reminder, the roughness of his voice. Tugging on his hair to tip his head back, she pressed her lips beneath his jaw, tongue snaking out for a tiny taste. “Are you sure?”

As much as she wanted to dig in her teeth and gorge, she just needed a little assurance that he understood what he was offering. It was probably a little silly, with the hard edge of his cock pressed against her thigh, but her past had left scars. Standing so close, Klaus letting her take her fill of what she needed to slot her pieces back together had helped settle her. But once she had him on her tongue, she was going to want so much more. 

“I’m sure,” he murmured, eyes softening even as he tipped his head just enough to meet her eyes. His gaze ran over her face hungrily, taking in the hint of veins that were just visible beneath her eyes. “Take what blood you need, Caroline. Then I’ll take you to my bed and drown you in whatever sensation you want.”

Her vampire crawled up the surface then, fangs sharp behind her lips. The bright gold of his eyes never blinked and he shifted, offering his neck. “So utterly lovely, your monster.”

Caroline pressed her mouth to slow thud of his pulse, savoring the feel of him before letting herself have the taste he’d promised. Klaus made a low noise in his chest, hands pulling her closer but all she cared about was the taste of his blood on her tongue. Fresh blood was always so good, but Klaus was better. And her monster had been starved for too long. She took her time, drinking deep before letting her tongue run across the rapidly closing punctures, making sure she’d caught every drop.

When she finally lifted her head, Caroline felt better than she had in ages. The worst of the shakes had eased, the chill of the void lessened and what remained was overwhelmed by the familiar blood high and the ache of her growing arousal. When she met Klaus’ gaze, his monster was watching her with the same need as she licked her mouth clean.

“So utterly lovely,” he repeated before his head dipped and he sucked her lower lip between his. Caroline moaned, the sound turning into a gasp as his double fangs scraped her lip bloody. Whining as her blood mingled with the taste of him, she surged against mouth. 

Kissing Klaus had been her very first indulgence of him as a man, and the taste and feel of him had been a gateway drug all those years ago. This time was no different. His hand in her hair, the small noise in the back of his throat as she sucked on his tongue, the way he pulled her closer as he angled her mouth for more. Her head spun, and her fingers fisted in his shirt until she heard seams pop and she still couldn’t get close enough. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair, and eased her head back as he nudged her backwards. She gripped his shoulders, moaning as he dropped open mouthed kisses along the column of her neck. Her fingers gripped his shirt as her butt hit the back of the couch, and he released her hair to steady her.

“Tell me how you feel.”

Caroline tried to grasp his question as one hand slid beneath her shirt, his fingers teasing the waistband of her borrowed pants. “What?”

His lips curved against her jaw and he bit lightly. “I remember everything about our last encounter, love, but you seem particularly sensitive tonight. Is that usual?”

She nodded, breath shuddering as his fingers slipped lower. “Yes. Very. I…” her words cut off as his fingers slid into her underwear, bypassing her aching clit to delve between her wet folds, slicking his fingers. Klaus leaned back to watch her face as he teased her.

“You came so prettily first me on the ruin of our clothes, but I can be so much better tonight. Is it pure sensation that chases away the void, sweetheart or do you need orgasms?” His voice deepened as he pressed a single finger deeper, thumb starting a slow pattern across her clit.

“I don’t know,” She panted, leaning heavily against him as she rocked against his hand. She always got off fast after the first time she fed on her return, but how quickly her body was lighting up for him was insane. Klaus’ gaze locked with hers and she struggled to keep her eyes open and her words coherent as he added a second finger inside her. It was a struggle to find a coherent thought, much less words. “When… when it’s just me, I have to rely on orgasms. And my vibrator. When I have a partner, I haven’t really let any of them...”

She moaned as he hit that perfect spit inside her, words dying in her throat, nails digging into his skin as her vision went hazy at the edges. 

The hand braced against her spine moved to slide against bare skin, and the heat of his palm on her back, the slight scrape of his callouses, was almost a sensory overload.

“Play?” Klaus asked teasingly as he increased the pressure on her clit. 

“Too greedy,” she finally gasped, voice thick. There was more she wanted to say, to admit to, but it ceased to matter as the start of her orgasm rippled through her and she pressed her face into his throat with a cry. The faint bite of his nails against back, the careful movements of his fingers prolonged her orgasm until she was gasping. 

Caroline stayed pressed against him until her heartbeat finally slowed, lifting her head as Klaus eased his hand free of her underwear. She sank her teeth hard into her lower lip as he brought his slick fingers to his mouth, licking the tips clean. 

“I like greedy,” he murmured as he moved to tug at the waistband of her pants in question before helping her ease them down her trembling thighs. “I’d be delighted to give you as many orgasms as you can take, sweetheart, but perhaps we should experiment so that I can be better prepared for your next skip, hmm?”

His hands settled on the back of her bare thighs and she swallowed. She wasn’t sure better prepared would be good for her sanity. But…

“Experiment?”

His dimples were sinful. “How would you feel if I tied you to a headboard? The one in my room should suffice. We’ll see just how much sensation you can handle, what you need, before I wrap my lips around your clit and let you come against my tongue. I’m going to want a much better taste of you.”

She inhaled sharply at his words, her abdomen going tight at the low voiced offer. Fingers sliding into his hair, she debated his offer. “Tie me with what?”

His thumb brushed just beneath the curve of her ass. “I might have a silk scarf or two lying around.”

Caroline snorted and tugged on his hair. “I’m not letting you tie me to the bed with anything that’s so much as touched another woman.”

Klaus bent his head and sank his fangs into the soft curve of her mouth, and she arched against him with a whine. He didn’t take much, a mere mouthful, but he sucked on lower lip into until it stopped bleeding. Pulling back, his eyes gleamed. “I do so enjoy your jealousy, Caroline.”

She spluttered, but Klaus gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her onto her toes. Caroline took the hint, jumping to hook her thighs around his hips. The hard edge of his erection pressed against the damp line of her panties, and she rocked against it. Shuddering at how good the pressure felt, she repeated the motion as he encouraged her with a low moan, hips shifting until she found the perfect angle. 

Klaus’ lips feathered along her jaw, teeth nipping below her ear and her thighs clenched around his waist. His lips curved against her neck, lips chasing the line of her throat when her head tipped back in a silent demand for more. 

“Bed,” she finally managed to grit out. “I want that bed.” His teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot on her neck before world blurred, and she glanced around as they came to a halt. The room was opulent and full of windows, but it was impossible to notice a chill with Klaus pressed so tightly against her. He laved at the hollow of her collarbones, pulling her attention back to him before he lowered her gently onto the bed, encouraging her legs to release him.

For a moment she just stared up at him in the low light, his curls wild from her fingers and his eyes so hungry it was impossible to feel anything but the same greed. Something warm bubbled in her chest, arousal put aside for a single moment as they watched each other. “Hey,” she said with a small smile.

His laugh was soft, and he chased her smile with soft lips. “I adore you like this,” he told her, his inhale against her skin followed by another pleased noise. “My scent all over you; the smell of you hot and slick and waiting for me. I want to taste you.”

Caroline shivered and scooted back to make room for him. That was an offer she wasn’t going to refuse, not when she ached for him. “I thought you were going to?”

His smile was dimpled. “Take off your shirt.”

Her fingers shook a little as she did as he asked before reaching for her bra clasp. He’d torn right through her bra the last time they’d had sex, and just then it was her only option. Tossing it to the side, she ran her eyes along his rumbled figure. 

“Are you going to join me?” She reached over to tug on his shirt collar. “Off.”

He crawled onto the bed, head bent to skim along the flushed skin of her abdomen before skimming one breast before he encouraged to settle deeper into his pillows. Under her heavy lidded gaze, Klaus impatiently worked at the buttons on his shirt. When she reached for the newly barred flesh, he caught her hands and kissed her palms. “Not yet, I think.”

“Seriously?” She complained, fingers flexing against his. “I want to touch too.”

He nipped one fingertip before licking away the sting. “Later, you may do as you wish. But right now, I get to touch you. We have a few theories to test, do we not?”

“You really want to tie me to the bed?” Her woods came out a bit breathless, stomach fluttering with fresh arousal. Instead of answering, Klaus’ smile turned slightly wicked and then he disappeared before returning quickly and holding a long strip of silk the same golden shade as champagne. He crawled onto the bed and draped it across her breasts with a considering look. She bit the side of her tongue to keep from making a noise at the slide of fabric across stiff nipples that the silk did nothing to hide. 

“Yes,” he said softly, his finger gliding a line down her belly. “It’s as pretty against your skin as I’d imagined, but perhaps next time something a shade or two darker.”

“You just…”

His glanced at her face from beneath his lashes, smile turning a touch lascivious. “A bit of silk is easy enough to keep on hand, and I’ve thought you often enough over the years that I might have a hopeful purchase or two lying around.”

“Oh.”

Klaus tipped his head to the side and studied her face. “We can save this for another night, sweetheart. Something to anticipate perhaps, if you’d prefer.”

Caroline thought about it and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I’ve just never tried this before but I want too.”

“If you are uncomfortable at any point, we will stop.” His smile turned wicked, dimples creasing his cheeks. “This particular silk has only been touched by the witch who spelled it. Does that meet your requirements?”

Heat flushed through her at his words and she swallowed. “What else do you have tucked away?”

His chuckle was rough, tongue snaking across his lips. “A few things, but I thought we had agreed that some of them should be a surprise.”

“Surprises are generally not my favorite,” she pointed out, voice holding steady even as he circled one nipple with a fingertip. The rasp of silk felt good, but she wanted his mouth there instead. 

“Oh, I imagine there might be a time or two I could talk you into them,” he murmured, voice dipping low and coaxing. “Tonight I’ll tie you to my bed, but perhaps after we’ve learned just what you can handle, what you like post-skip you’ll let me blindfold you as well, hmm? There are a number of items that can be used to enhance such an experience. Soft, exploratory touches until you’re languid and wet, until your body craves the orgasm I’d give you. Eventually. I think you’d enjoy a number of surprise then.”

Her inhale was shaky at the flutter of arousal that washed through her at his words. “I like to watch.”

Klaus’ eyes gleamed. “Do you? There might be a mirror around here somewhere can make use of later. Right now, hands above your head, sweetheart.”

Wiggling around into a slightly more comfortable position, she settled her wrists near the headboard. Klaus gathered the silk and reached up, wrapping her wrists firmly before securing them up the headboard. 

“All right?”

Caroline wiggled her fingers and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” he murmured gaze trailing down the line of her torso and lingering on her bare thighs. “Tell me if that changes. For any reason, Caroline.” 

“I will.”

Klaus made a noise of approval in his chest, his hands resting on the curve of her inner thighs. She shivered at the sensation of his callouses dragging lightly against her skin as his thumbs stroked upward, but never quite reached where she wanted him. Squirming, Caroline curled her fingers into the silk. “I thought you were going to touch me.”

“Am I not?” He questioned, hands easing her thighs wider. The sweep of his gaze was lascivious, and his one corner of his mouth curved upwards as his eyes met hers. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve fantasized many times of having my very own Caroline-feast, but to actually have you here? I plan on taking my time tonight, Caroline. Last time we rushed, and while the sight of you with leaves in your hair as you came on my cock is one I have thought of often there are many benefits to a bed, hmm?”

His head bent, lips skimming ever so softly along her abdomen. She strained against his hold, thighs tensing at the hint of teeth. A slow, dangerous smile curled against her belly and he hummed in thought. Caroline moaned as he sucked on a spot just above her navel, gooseflesh breaking out across her skin. 

“Klaus, come on.”

He glanced up then, pupils wide against the yellow of his wolf. “I believe I promised you play,” he reminded as he settled against her, the coarse fabric of his dress pants tantalizing against her bare thighs. She curled her legs around his waist but he didn’t let her arch against him, the flex of hips pinning hers to the bed. Instead his mouth settled at the base of her throat, tongue a hot, velvet slide in the hollow between her collarbones. “As much as you can bear.”

His words puffed against her nipple, and the stroke of his tongue was better. He kept the pressure light, a mere tease of heat and sensation, and she arched her back, chasing his mouth. His hum of pleasure vibrated against her skin and her knees pressed tightly against his sides. When he finally lifted his head, he cupped her neglected breast and squeezed lightly, gaze locked on the shape of her breast in his palm.

“More,” Caroline demanded impatiently. “More.”

“I told you I’d give you what you wanted,” he reminded her, tongue a velvet counterpoint to his words. He kept his pace agonizingly slow, each brush of his tongue, the slight burn of his beard against her skin a deliberate seduction of her senses. He chased every twitch, every moan until she was quivering beneath him. 

It was better with him, easier to let Klaus keep her centered than she could ever remember it being with her previous lovers. Her fingers tangled in silk and her body burned for the orgasm he hadn’t let her chase, and she couldn’t feel even a hint of the void lingering. 

“Have you decided?” Klaus asked, gaze flickering to her flushed face as he licked at her trembling abdomen. 

Caroline shook her head, not comprehending the question as he eased further down her body. She unwound her legs, letting him spread her thighs wide as he settled on his elbows. Only the soaked fabric of her panties separated her throbbing clit from his mouth and she wanted them gone. 

“What pushes the void away, love?” His voice was indulgent, breath hot against her thigh before he rested his cheek there, scrapping the sensitive skin red and she twisted her hands in the silk of her toes, moaning. He repeated the motions on her other thigh, gaze returning to her face once he was satisfied by the lingering marks that would quickly fade. “Caroline?”

She dragged her thoughts to the surface. “I think,” she finally managed, voice hoarse with need. “I need another orgasm. To compare.”

His smile was wicked in all the best ways as he snapped the band of her panties, tugging the clinging fabric away from her body. His eyes gleamed gold, gaze dipping. “Do you?”

Klaus didn’t give her a chance to reply, mouth sealing over her clit. Her toes curled into the sheets as he tasted her with a slow drag of his tongue before his forearms settled across her thighs, holding her hips in place as he drove her mad with his tongue. He lingered between her thighs, seemingly content to taste and tease until she was mindless with need. Her gasping breaths went ragged, as the slow buildup gave way to the perfect flicks of his tongue, the suction of his mouth, and her body locked in place as she shouted through her release.

When she finally gained her senses, she watched hazily as he moved to forcefully removed his pants. She was certain she heard seams ripping, a button popping free, but it didn’t matter when he settled between her thighs, his cock hot and hard between them. The sight of his swollen lips, slick from her release and the flush of his cheekbones, the stark need in his eyes, left her craving more. 

“You said I could have what I wanted,” she rasped, thigh hooking over his hip to reel him closer. “And I want you inside me. Right now.”

The expletive that fell from his lips as his cock nestled against her slickness her was gratifying, the way his breathing shuddered against her throat more so. Their combined moans as he nudged inside her was better, and it was all she could do to absorb the feel of him, the way he felt thick and full inside of her. 

“Perfect,” he gritted out, hand sliding beneath her back to arch help support her spine. “Always so bloody perfect.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply, hips starting a slow grind, the drag of his cock torturously good. His mouth was hot against her throat, the edges of his fangs a tease as he tested both of their control. Caroline arched against him, rubbing her breasts against chest as she hunted for more sensation, more of him. Klaus groaned and his teeth scraped her skin, his tongue catching the drops of blood brought to the surface. 

It wasn’t until she begged, his name a babble of words, that he gave her what she wanted, what they both needed. The unexpected snap of his hips, the feel of his hand sliding between them to toy with her clit sent her careening, Klaus right behind her as she clamped around him, the pulse of her orgasm turning the world hazy.

Soft, feathering kisses brought her back to awareness, and she shifted her arms with a faint sound of complaint. A moment later the silk loosened, and she slipped her wrists free, tangling one hand in his hair. 

“I liked both,” Caroline said a little roughly. 

Klaus smiled, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss against her sternum. “I can think of a few more things you might like.”

“Like what?”

His smile grew and he slipped back down her body, his lips dragging across her skin.“I want you to watch this time. And after, we’ll see about finding that mirror, hmm?”

Klaus had been correct. She liked a great many things he suggested that night, until she fell asleep pressed against him, pliant and happily exhausted.

-

Caroline woke with a jolt, breathing harsh in her throat. For a moment, she forgot where she was though she was toasty warm and comfortable. Her half-wild gaze locked with Klaus’ from where she was half-buried beneath him, and her most recent memory returned in a rush. 

Blinking away the remains of a dream she couldn’t really remember, she looked around. “What time is it?”

“Early.” Klaus propped himself on an elbow, but didn’t make a move to shift away from her. “Nightmares?”

She reached up to card her fingers through his sex-fluffed hair as she chased the tendrils of what had woken her. “I don't know.”

His hand settled on her hip, thumb tracing along the shape of bone, and his eyes were intent. “Does this happen often?”

Her lips curved sardonically. “Yes. It’ll smooth out once my mind catches up with the rest of me.”

Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “How long does it usually take?”

She shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be a specific timeline. Sometimes it's a few days, other times I never notice an issue. I did talk to Bonnie about it but she didn’t have much advice. Brains are weird, I suppose.”

He didn’t respond to her attempt to lighten the mood, gaze going distant as he clearly planned something but Caroline found she didn’t mind. It was nice, lingering in bed this way, his naked skin pressed against her own. It wasn’t something she’d have every thought he would want or that she would enjoy with him. It was another piece of a puzzle she really did need to figure out. 

Finally, it was Klaus who broke the silence. “How are you feeling? Do you need more blood?”

Caroline stretched a little beneath him, testing her muscles and ignoring the first stirring of arousal at his offer. Her vampirism had kicked in with fervor after she’d fed from Klaus and today everything felt normal. It was in fact the best she’d felt in years. It wasn’t just his blood, or the amazing sex, but the fact that he’d given her concrete facts. There was a quasi-plan in place that she fully intended to make it something with more bullet points and contingencies, but for the first time since this curse had started, she had answers.

And even if some of them sucked, she had them.

Lips curling, she let the pad of her fingers skim down his check, lingering at the curve of his jaw. “Good. I feel really good.”

A hint of gold brightened his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Did you have plans for today?”

“Not anymore.”

She huffed, but couldn’t quite stop her smile. “I don’t want to interfere with whatever plans you have.”

“None of them were particularly important,” he dismissed easily. “A spot or two of murder, intimidating the local population into remembering whose suffrage they exit on. They’ll still be here once we have you settled.”

His gaze turned teasing, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t move to shove him away. “How lucky for them.”

Klaus shook against her, his laughter near silent, his gaze affectionate when he looked at her. “And what about you? What would you like to do today?”

She needed to call Bonnie, have her tell her all about her research. She was pretty sure Klaus had said something about notes? She was going to read them and make them both answer all her questions until she was satisfied she knew every possible fact. Then she was going to bully him into taking her somewhere warmer, because she did not like snow and she refused to be cooped up inside for whatever time she had until her next skip.

But all of that could come a little later. 

“I want a bath,” she decided. “I bet yours is even nicer than the one in my room.”

“It might be,” he conceded. 

Caroline teased the hint of his dimple with her fingertips. “Want to join me?”

His smile deepened beneath her touch, and something lurched in her chest. They had so much to work out between them, and some things would have to wait until the curse no longer lingered over her head, but for the first time in ages, she felt excited about the future. 

Because this man? She could never, ever tell him, but his plans, his being there? They’d made all the difference for her. They were going to ride this curse out and one day, she was going to have a long talk with Jolie. She’d be around when Caroline was ready for it. She knew Klaus would ensure it. 

But that was a plan for another day. 

Leaning forward before he could answer her invitation, she kissed him lightly, more affection than heat, lingering against his mouth because she could. For a moment, her moved against his his warm and lazy, but neither of them were satisfied for long. The kiss deepened, turned hot and wet quickly, and Caroline tugged him back into the bedding. They were going to totally have bath sex later but she had no problem seeing just how filthy they could get before they left the bed. 

[believerindaydreams]

Okay I know there has to be a Boone/Arcade scene for pacing but this feels like treading water

Oh well, crossing at dawn 2.75 and then I'll be chronologically in order agsin

Boone

Don't know why now of all times, when we've finally sorted out our problems, I start having nightmares.

That time in the Legion, when I'm awake I hardly think about it. But when I sleep it grabs me, I'm wrapped in crimson that's starting to bleed and armed with a machete against men with grenade launchers and rockets.

Not that strange, it's what happened.

I get off the bunk, stealthy as I can manage; Manny's taken the top like always, he's out cold. My wife's fallen asleep on top of Veronica, hands entwined; I'd start wondering about that if the engineer wasn't so obsessed with this train. She's staying out, so the fling is a fling.

Can't complain, that's for sure.

Arcade's in the dining car, reading with his feet up; the place smells like frying fat and sugar.

"What's up?"

"Can't sleep. Didn't seem worth trying any longer."

"Well, I've got something cooking if you're sticking around. What would you normally do to unwind?"

"Practice my sniping."

"Ah. And you can hardly do that on a train, so no wonder you're stressed out."

Guess he has a point. Not many days I've spent without practicing with some kind of firearm or another. "What's cooking, then?"

"Fried Nuka-Cola balls." He's hiding behind his big book now, can't see him. "It's a classic recipe. I'm testing it."

"Can't get enough of the stuff, huh?"

"Followers," Arcade says, peeking over the top of the book, "are interested in all kinds of prewar experiences, valuable or not. Because it takes more than weapon schematics and vault doors to build a society- I think they started forgetting that, towards the end. How to live when your whole life isn't bent towards destruction. The more frivolous, silly, utterly human scraps we can salvage from the wreckage, the better off we all are."

"...so this isn't about your addiction then."

"Well, that too. Any Follower worth the lab coat can spout off nonsense to justify their actions, it's one of the first things you pick up at the Boneyard." He chuckles and tucks the book under his arm. Picks up a kind of metal net and shakes it out, then upends it over a plate. Golden balls spill out, like Manny's dumplings but smaller and less meaty. "Give those a while to cool."

"Guess I'm not going anywhere."

"Great," Arcade says, actually putting the book down. "Because I've- I have missed you, if that makes sense. Far be it from me to ever imply I miss the Sierra Madre, because I most definitely don't, but- you know what, there is absolutely no way of saying this without sounding terrible. That third rum was a mistake."

"With Nuka in it, I guess."

"...yes. Well. I could be even more drunk, but- you know what it is, I had approximately ten seconds to go from the idea of having finally, unbelievably, made a cautious attempt at opening up, to suddenly being the fifth wheel on a cart."

"There's only four of us."

"I'm talking metaphorically- Boone, it's been a lot to deal with. Manny was just that sniper in the dinosaur, Carla I didn't know at all, this is very much a case where I'm late to the party and I'm trying to get to terms with that by consuming junk food abominations and revisiting highlighted passages of the Wasteland Survival Guide. Please don't hate me for realising I'm not even the most important person in your life anymore."

The weird little fried balls are cooled off. I pop one in my mouth- kind of crispy on the outside, syrupy inside. It does taste like a soda, sort of.

"I'm not going to throw you over just because they came back."

Arcade stuffs a ball into his mouth, doesn't speak until he's done chewing. "Surviving the Enclave collapse did not, I'm afraid, do anything for my capacity to trust that a given situation will remain stable."

"...you want to fuck?"

"No. Yes. I would dearly enjoy a prolonged, imaginative and exhausting fuck, but right now I need to get to grips with this before I can get comfortable with you again. Boone, is any of this making sense?"

Wish Manny and Carla were awake, this is out of my depth. "They've told you they're glad to have you along. Don't know that me saying it helps you much."

We're getting through the balls at a fast clip. Saves looking at each other. "Is this because I shot those men at the Freeside gate? You look at me and wonder what other promises I'd break?"

Arcade blinks. Twice. "Not really where I was going with this, but carry on."

"Didn't kill 'em for my sake, when I could have turned myself in. Manny and Carla could have gone back to the Great Khans, they'd be glad to get a good soldier back and she'd stick with him if I vanished. But no way you could have gone with them, with that Legion alliance on the way. Had to make the choice, and I made it."

He slowly crushes a ball in his fingers, opens them up, looks at the dark liquid. "You're saying, cheer up, because I murdered some guards for you."

"Can't make you feel better about the others, because I'm not them. But you want to know if you matter to me? Damn straight you do."

"...I suppose that'll just have to suffice. For the moment."

Comes as a relief, when he quits talking and gets your hands and mouth sticky with soda syrup.

Action's a hell of a lot easier than words.

*****

Manny

Glory be, Veronica should have called it the Love Track. You can hardly move on this train without stumbling over somebody fucking or thinking about fucking or recuperating after the fact.

And I'm not planning to be left out altogether. Third day in I invite Arcade for a roll in the hay. Or maize husks, anyway.

"Why are we here? Cow won't need milking for at least two hours."

"Thought we could get to know each other a little better."

"Ooo-kay. Fine."

He's nervous. Forget the hay, then.

"See, I care about those two idiots out there, bless 'em, but Boone does not do feelings and Carla has been through so many kinds of hell since getting pregnant, I'm amazed she still gets up in the morning. So nobody else is going to ask this- are you feeling all right?"

"Good enough."

Wow. Boone's contagious. "Hey. If I can help, name it. I wouldn't be half as gracious about it if I was the one dumped into a three-way tangle."

"You could satisfy my incessant curiosity, I suppose." He picks up a brush and starts tending Cow; technique all wrong but they're patient animals. "How did you all agree to this, if I may ask?"

"Hmth. Sure you can ask, Boone proposed to her and she turned him down because she didn't believe that he wasn't sleeping with me. He came back to the barracks with a turquoise ring and a broken heart so bad he actually talked about it."

"Were you? Sleeping with him?"

"Not then. But we had done...so next leave, I went to Carla myself, told her it was killing my partner, that if it was me or caps or anything I had the power to change, name it and I'd do it. He'd been so happy with her...well. You met him before he got Carla back."

"I'm not sure I saw him at his worst, even so." Bless the man, Arcade's blushing.

"Could be, I wouldn't know. Well- she laughed and asked if I'd brought a ring too, and I said yes, just in case you wanted one. Nice bit of bone carving, you'd knock that off in a bored afternoon with the Khans. Anyway she suddenly took me seriously after that...she was in love, I was in love, Boone wanted both of us. And she felt better when she heard I didn't go for girls. So I went back, told Boone to try again...went storybook the second time, Carla said."

"Then you were always planning to make a life with them."

"Planning? No. I thought that she'd tell me to find my jollies somewhere else, I'd mope about it for a few months, and head back to the Khans- that was before Bitter Springs."

"So what made you stay?"

"You really don't let up with the questions, do you?" Arcade's not bad to look at, that's for damned sure. The distracted way he's brushing his hair back, for instance. But I'm not going to fuck him just because I'm here and he's here. "Cos I still wanted Boone. Because we were partnered and I couldn't have quit thinking about him if I tried. Because they were a couple of star-struck idiots and they were going to need help."

"I suppose you were right about that."

I'd just as soon forget the word Arizona, thanks. "Sure. Who else would have taught them a triple-step to dance at the Tops?"

"You know a triple-step? I thought that only- well, that only Enclave remembered that."

"Khans were from a vault, back in the day. Good exercise, and it's fun."

"Mmm. It shows."

There's a certain hunger the way Arcade says it, couldn't call it subtle. Suddenly I get to come to terms with just because I'm being polite and hands off, doesn't mean he is.

Well. I wouldn't mind being the one who gets chased, just for a change.

[teebster]

Terbish Uyagir/Moks

The Basics ––– –

Age: Seemingly anywhere between late twenties to mid thirties.

Race: Au Ra - Xaela

Gender: Agender - They/Them pronouns

Sexuality: Grey Asexual

Marital Status: Single but not looking to mingle

Server: Mateus - Crystal

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: While carefully cut short and kept even, there’s little care for fixing a slightly tousled look from any wind or sudden movements. No products, and possibly not even a comb to guide these bright white locks.

Eyes: Deep grey, with white rings

Height: as tall as the game would allow the fem au ra model...

Build: Slender, somewhat spindly, with the hint of muscle tone to suggest athletics

Distinguishing Marks: Scars. Terbish’s torso, front and back, in particular is the main focus of their scars, except they don’t seem to be from battle or anything of the sort. They weave, intertwine, form circles and runes. While the focus of these scars is their torso, they do extend just a touch on to their upper arms and legs, which with their tendency to leave their arms bare, could offer a peek. Their scales also seem to be a bit more intensely dark than the standard Xaela, getting closer to a void with an absence of any light than simply ‘black’.

Common Accessories: Often seen sporting some kind of mask, normally bone, but sometimes a simple blind fold or carved wood. Fingerless gloves or hand wraps of some sort with their fingers exposed.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Slight wanderer sometimes known to hunt voidsent with additional whispering of having an odd talent handling cursed or otherwise tainted objects. They tend to have a preference for deserts and going underground. Currently they are employed by the Siren’s Bounty, helping to handle regular bounties as well as anything their personal talents might be of use with.

Hobbies: Whittling/carving small pieces of wood and skeletal reconstruction of small dead birds and rodents, using wood to replace missing pieces and mend cracks and wire to string them up together. Also the general collection of bones. Late night walks. People watching. Eating things they shouldn’t. 

Residence: The Mist since being hired, but their room remains fairly bare

Birthplace: The Steppe

Religion: The philosophical and existential wondering of the meaning of it all

Patron Deity: Nope

Fears: Intimacy, love, genuine acceptance, settling, loss of control, group speaking, vulnerability, forgetting(or worse, remembering)... Mostly social and emotional issues in abundance.

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Negative

Children: N/A

Parents: We all come from somewhere.

Siblings: No

Other Relatives: Nope

Pets: Unnamed Dodo

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious (You may say pick one, but I assure it’s both)

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Themes and more: I try to be very forward and blatant about the fact that this character comes with body horror and isn’t very shy about anxiety and depression being key factors for them. I try not to go into big details however as I don’t want to cause strong discomfort for other players, but want enough information present for appropriate reactions from other characters. This ranges from opening their mouth all too big like a snake, to moving their limbs in unnatural ways. They also can deal with some other basic spooky shadow horror as well. Additionally, Terbish has some memory issues. This does not mean they will simply forget meeting people or anything current, their memory gaps are almost entirely from their time on the Steppe. It’s a large part of their relationships section being bare, and not having a set age listed above. They don’t remember.

What I’m Looking For: Friend shaped beings. People who are interested in building nonromantic relationships. Terbish isn’t a character that is going to vent their insecurities openly and can be a bit of a slow boil to figure out without some emotional leverage to give them reason to be more open. This isn’t to say I’m against romance or romantic tones, but if it happens it’ll happen naturally and with communication. I’m also not looking for pure angst and edge, while I can appreciate some emotional difficulties and darker tones, this character can often be more about working through them to try and remember what feeling normal is like, but that does still mean they have a solid place with this character. Go on adventures, build up friendships, have weird late night talks, be horrified and somewhat endeared by your local cryptid secretly having a heart and many complex emotions.

RP Hooks ––– –

Monster Hunter: Hunting some voidsent? Livestock mysteriously gone missing? Local cryptid spotted? Terbish just might be at the end of that particular search. Is it a complete misunderstanding, or are they genuinely the culprit? Only one way to find out. Alternatively, Terbish has a bit of a knack for finding voidsent themselves. Or maybe they find Terbish. Mysterious Death: Back before Terbish left the Steppe, they used to help map out the caves the Uyagir call home, but as a Moks had some other motives as well. However, their disappearance came with a sudden collapse of part of the tunnels and no one returning from it. As far as anyone from the Steppe that had contact with the Uyagir or Moks may be concerned, Terbish Uyagir/Moks is dead, so what’s up with this ghost walking around so far from home? Worse yet, while they might respond to the right name, recognition seems to be lost beyond that. Weird Aether, Odd Soul: To any perceptive to such things, there’s something decidedly off about Terbish’s essence. It’s not easy to place, but there’s definitely a bit of Void without the whole thing simply being corrupt. Perhaps it would be better to say that anyone looking beyond the flesh would find they seem marbled, like two different things mixed together without fully setting. Very similar to voidsent. Cursed Cuisine: Rumor has it there’s an odd person out there who eats crystals, materia, or even cursed artifacts. Perhaps it’s metaphorical, but either way, it would be a sight, a curiosity, or for some desperate about some form of curse, maybe an answer.

Contact Information/About the player ––– –

My name is Speedie. I can be contacted here on tumblr, as well as in game as Terbish Moks on mateus. I have discord, but I’d rather be asked directly for that information than post it straight to tumblr. I can keep odd hours sometimes, insomnia is a hell of a drug. But I also have my own anxieties, clear communication is really important to me, as much as I love some mystery in roleplay and having answers to figure out, I don’t want to not know how my rp partners are feeling about what is going on and so on. I can also be a bit of a recluse sometimes, but I promise that doesn’t mean I’m not around or interested, I’m just not always the best at reaching out because of it.

[peachyteabuck]

fool outta me [bucky barnes x reader]

summary: bucky and you finally have a conversation about your feelings after you catch him getting jealous about your friendship with thor

pairing: bucky barnes x writer!reader

words: 2080

trigger warnings: some teeth rotting fluff. talk about personal insecurities. allusions to previous and future sexual contact without much specifics. mentions of an unspecified childhood trauma

notes/other: hi hello i know i’ve been writing a lot of fluff n stuff. i will get back to fics abt two or more ppl just fuking rawing each other soon. dw. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

You and Bucky have been dating for awhile. Not a long time, but awhile. You hadn’t officially moved in together yet (you still paid your half of the rent for your shitty apartment), but you still often slept in his room in the Tower. You’ve had sex, but had never gotten too adventurous. It’s good, Bucky and you are happy. You’re in love. No need to push it, no need to talk it further, no need to complicate things.

You’re sitting on the couch, reading some book about the gendered politics of crafting, when you hear a loud crash in the kitchen. The others are all in other places at far ends of the Tower, and you’re pretty sure Natasha went out to get coffee. But any of them in the kitchen on the common floor? Without you noticing? Nope. Not possible.

Good news is, you trust Tony enough to not allow some stray or burglar to come and kidnap you, so you decide to investigate. You keep your hardcover novel with you to act as a makeshift weapon...just in case.  You’re expecting a rat, or maybe some sort of ghost, possibly a dog no one thought to CC you on the email about - definitely not the god that’s been spooked by a a Nutribullet plastic container thingy that’s fallen from a poorly-stacked cabinet.

“Thor Odinson,” you groan, grabbing and gently placing the large smoothie-thing (oh god, what do you call those things anyway? Do they have names?) in the sink. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He looks sheepish as he explains. “Sorry, my lady. It looks like someone in this residence didn’t put…” he gestures to the object. “That away correctly.”

“It’s fine.” You half laugh, half sigh as you go to hug him. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Thor chuckles. “It has! Please, sit back down. I’ll be there in a minute and you can tell me everything I’ve missed!”

You smile, nodding and going back to your place on the extremely comfortable couch. Ever the gentleman, about two minutes later he hands you your favorite mug - a baby blue one with cursive gold lettering that says “flight” with little birds on it- with your favorite tea inside. It’s warm under your hands and provides a relief to the ache from holding the book.

“An apology - for scaring you like that,” Thor tells you as you blow lightly at the steam from the beverage.

Again, you smile. “Apology accepted.”

The conversation between you two flows beautifully. You two talk about this and that: about your writing and his kingly duties. About your new book deal and his universal travels. It seems ludicrous, comparing your lives. But he seems genuinely interested in your life - just as you are his.

Book long forgotten, it seems like hours later when Bucky enters the floor with Natasha and Sam in tow. They’re all chatting about some new upcoming training technique they’re going to try with some of the subordinates. Once they all see Thor, they greet him with the same grand gestures and loud voice they’ve always seemed to use with the equally grand and loud god.

Well, except Bucky. He greets only you and only you with his signature peck on the lips, sitting beside you and pulling you into his chest. He’s showered - thank Gods - and he smells like the body wash you bought him. The honeycomb is calming and comforting, much more so than sweat and adrenaline and whatever else got stuck to him.

“How was the workout?” You ask.

He shrugs when he answers. “Good - the usual.”

You roll your eyes. Bucky may not be able to see it with the angle you’re at, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. “Always so descriptive,” you tease. He smiles, welcoming your chide remarks.

Thor watches the pair of you. You can tell Bucky notices, but neither of you really say anything. He had a habit of staring at things while on Midgard, it became a habit after one-to-many all-too-forward inappropriate questions, mostly made while in public (Why does that woman have a metal bar through her ear? He asked in a coffee shop. Why would anyone want to build a bear, especially little children? He texted you when he went to the mall for a first time. Why does this text end in an eggplant? He questioned when he picked up your phone and accidentally read all of your notifications).

It’s no biggie - at least not to you, so you badger Natasha about her postponing a girls’ night. Bucky, though, doesn’t take his eyes off of the God. He watches Thor with his assassin’s precision, and you choose not to comment.

Soon, your conversation with Thor picks back up. The whole time, Bucky’s muscles occasionally tense. For awhile, you ignore it; You know better than to push anything, so you drop it from your mind for the time being. Later that night, though, you bring it to the surface again as you get dressed for bed and Bucky brushes his teeth.

“Sooo…” you begin, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom.

Bucky spits the black (charcoal was Steve’s new thing, and Bucky’s always willing to be his guinea pig) saliva into the sink. “What’s up, babe?”

You shrug, attempting to remain nonchalant. “What was with you while I was talking to Thor on the couch earlier this afternoon?”

Bucky immediately denies his actions. “Nothing, it was nothing.”

You scoff. “I’m a retired interrogator for the United States Navy. You can’t knock me off your path that easily...James.”

Oooooo, full first names are coming out now. This is getting serious.

Bucky scoffs, too. Yours was serious, though. The one he does is obviously an attempt to mock you. “And I was interrogated for like, seventy years. You can’t crack me that easily.”

You stare at him via the mirror, blank-faced. “Really, you’re pulling the Winter Soldier card?”

Bucky shrugs, finally wiping off his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You don’t budge, metaphorically and literally. “You’re deflecting and you know it.”

He just grumbles something unintelligible and brushes past you, huddling under the thick comforter on his side of the bed and turning off the lamp on his nightstand. Bucky’s acting like a small child who just got told he can’t go over to his friend’s house on Saturday because he has to get up early for Sunday mass. Luckily, the only more stubborn person on this Earth besides him (and Steve) is you.

Plus, you babysat until grad school: you know how to handle petulant children. You turn off the rest of the lights and snuggle into bed right beside him, curling your arms around his middle - just like he loves it. He’d never admit it, but James Buchanan Barnes (World’s longest serving POW, Winter Soldier, Veteran, Avenger) absolutely adores being the little spoon.

When he settles into you, you know you’ve got him right where you want him. “You know, if you don’t want to talk to me, I could just give Wanda the go-ahead to read your mind and spoil all of the pranks you were planning to play on Sam…”

He flips over and gasps. “You wouldn’t…”

“And I won’t!” You assure. “You just have to tell me how you feel.”

“Ugh,” Bucky exclaims dramatically. “Talking about emotions.”

You snort a little, kissing his warm, sweet-smelling shoulder. Damn, you really know how to pick a body wash.“You knew this was going to happen! My mom was a social worker, you can’t hide that part of me for long!”

He growls, then sighs. “Fine. But turn over.” You start to question him, but he cuts you off before a single sound can leave your lips. “I can’t have you looking at me while I say this.”

Listen, you bargain with yourself. You got him to open up! That’s great. Let him do it in his own way. Being the loving girlfriend you are, you flip over and face the wall.

It’s a few pregnant moments before he starts, but when he does - he can’t seem to stop. “Look, I know...listen. I was super like, sauve and stuff...pre-war and shit. Talk to Steve, he’ll tell ya. But being under mind control for a Nazi organization doesn’t really like, help your self-confidence, you know? When I met you, it was hard. I remember you, at that party. You looked...oh god, you looked so good in that velvet pantsuit. And those heels! When Natasha introduced us, I legit almost fell over,” it takes every ounce of all willpower you have not to giggle. You remember that day so vividly: how much your bra hurt, what the champagne tasted like, wanting to jump Bucky’s bones the minutes you saw him. Everything, you remember everything. “And then Natasha threw, like legit threw all of your books at me once we got home. And I read all of them. Several times. It was just...I remember I wrote down all of my favorite poems and like, read them every chance I could get. I just, you’re so articulate, the way you use your voice, the way you write. I was...floored. Still am. I just, you never cease to amaze me. And I remember the first time we slept together, and your dirty talking - god. I wanted to stop fucking you so I could write down everything you said. I’ve just never, I’ve never met anyone who could manipulate the English language like you can.”

You wipe a tear from your eye. God, what a fucking charmer. No wonder you let him get it on the first date.

“You’re so...like, you’re like some Greek statue. Carved from perfect marble and so precious. Sometimes I want to touch you make sure you’re real but I don’t want to smudge you, wreck your beauty. And I’ve always felt like...remember that poem, from your second poetry book. The one about trauma from your childhood?”

You sniffle. That poem, that’s the one he talked to you about on your first date. Normally you felt so uncomfortable when people complimented you, but with Bucky it felt so natural. “That my trauma felt like the jagged edge of a rock at the bottom of the pond; ever present but with no exact location until it was too late.”

Bucky picks up, still facing away from you. “Yeah, I just...I never thought anyone so fucking amazing could love someone like me. It felt like you were a shooting star that somehow fell in love with some stupid cliff’s edge, or some other shitty rock or something. I don’t know. I just...I’m worried that you’ll see me like I see me, and Thor is like...the hottest person ever. He’s just as bright as you are...at least, I don’t know, I remember you and him talking about your writing’s allusions to mythology and I had no fucking idea what you were talking about and I just...I don’t know. I love you, I love you so much, and I’m trying everyday to prove that to you. But I just, I’m not sure how to do that properly, so sometimes I-”

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence. You surge forward, your salty tears mixing with his as you kiss him. Bucky kisses back without hesitation. Both of you are reluctant to pull away, but oxygen cares not one bit about how in love two people are.

“I think dating a writer rubbed off on you,” you whisper, lips still almost touching his. “Because those words...fuck. If you keep talking to me like that, we’ll never be able to leave this bed again.”

He laughs, deep and husky. “What can I say, I’m a changed man. First the loofah and that body wash, then the yoga, now this…”

You bark out laughter, then sigh happily. “If Thor would make you crack like this I would’ve invited him to Midgard a long time ago…”

Bucky jabs his fingers into your side, tickling you. “Don’t even joke about that! I’m trying to be tender here, and this is how you treat me?”

You kiss him again, smiling. “Aw, my love. How ever will I make it up to you?”

He taps his finger to his chin for a moment, then flips you over so that he’s on top of you. “Oh, I think I have a few ideas…”

[nickireadstfc]

The King’s Men, Chapter 7 – In Case Of Zombie Apocalypse, Grab Your Racquets And Run

In which the saga of Gays On Rooftops continues, everyone is too sassy to handle, I cry at some beautiful Andrew/Renee normalcy, and Andreil are Andreil.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy, I had always heard of The Rooftop Scene™ from fandom, but oh, had I been a fool to assume there was just one of them.

Lads, we’re back to being in high places we shouldn’t be, and we’re in for a fun time.

             “Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

             Neil shook a cigarette stick out and lit it. “I’d drag you down with me. It’s a long way down.”

Two sentences into this conversation, and Neil is already being a sassy little shit.

Now this is the content I signed up for.

             “I hate you. (…) Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way.”

             “What about the other ten?” Neil asked.

Perceptive little dude, look at you! Actually noticing stuff Andrew says, I’m so proud.

Also, I’m hoping this was a rhetorical question, because if not I may take my “perceptive” back.

             “I warned you not to put a leash on me.”

             “I didn’t,” Neil said. “You put that leash on yourself when you told me to stay no matter what. Don’t be mad at me just because I was smart enough to pick up the other end of it.”

I want it to please be known that I am resisting about 20 kinky leash jokes right now.

Thankfully, Andrew waltzes on with the conversation before I can utter any.

Good boy.

             “I don’t think it was the money (…) why they chased you so long. I imagine at some point they realized it was far more important to hurt you than to recoup anything they’d lost.”

             “So you stay, but you still won’t hit me.”

Neil has become being such a sassy shit to Andrew, I can’t even tell you how much I’m loving this.

Homeboy takes no shit from no one anymore.

             Despite Andrew’s unfriendly words, his expression and tone were calm. He said these things like they meant nothing to him. Neil didn’t know if it was a mask or the truth. Was Andrew hiding that rage from Neil or from himself? Maybe the monster was buried until Neil crossed another unforgiveable line.

And of course, Neil being Neil, he instantly searches for that line exactly.

Neil and Andrew, pretty much.

             “Good,” Neil said at length. (…) “I want to see you lose control.”

Damn right you do, honey.

             Neil feigned confusion as he got to his feet. “Am I bothering you?”

             “Beyond the telling.”

             “Interesting,” Neil said. “Last week you said nothing gets under your skin.”

OOOHHHHHHHHHH.

Neil, my boy my dude my homie, you are on FIRE today.

Neil mic-drops out of the conversation and gets off the roof – only to be immediately thrown to the ground by the angrier, more vocal version of Andrew.

After several people are needed to wrestle Aaron and Neil free from each other, we find out what exactly has our second favourite twin’s orange boxers in a twist:

             “Katelyn’s refusing to see me or talk to me until Andrew and I get counselling.”

DAMN, GIRL.

I knew Katelyn was badass, but this has just propelled her to the very top of the Takes No Shit Charts.

KATELYN YOU WONDERFUL TOUGH HEADSTRONG ORANGE SUNSHINE, LET ME LOVE YOU.

             Nicky’s jaw dropped, but it sounded more admiring than anything. “Damn, Neil.”

Same, Nicks.

             Aaron shot him a livid look. “Don’t you dare take his side.”

             “Why not?” Nicky asked. “It’s not like you ever let me take yours.”

Shots have been fired, tea has been spilled, Aaron has been thoroughly shut up.

What is up with this team and sassy remarks today, you guys. Wonderful.

Neil reunited with Dan’s crowd, who immediately begin questioning the previous violent (and also German) exchange, as any sane person would do.

             “What the hell is going on?”

             “I’m doing what you asked me to do,” Neil said. “I’m fixing them. (…) If a bone isn’t healing straight, you have no choice but to break it. They’ll be fine.”

Neil has been taking metaphor style notes from Andrew, apparently.

             Matt leaned against the doorframe and arched a brow at Neil. “That’s not exactly reassuring. From you ‘fine’ could mean anything from ‘I’m going to hitchhike across the state’ to ‘I’m beaten to a bloody pulp but I can still hold a racquet’.”

Damn, Matt.

This squad is not messing around today.

Matt, Dan and Allison play a fun goodnight game of Getting Drunk Off Their Asses, and while Neil and Renee clean up the mess afterwards, they have a lil talk about y’know, boys.

             “Thank you,” she said, “for reaching him when I couldn’t.”

This just in: I still love Renee, thank you for asking.

Renee confirms what we kind of knew already: When Andrew started watching Kevin and the monsters’ backs, Renee was tasked with watching those of the rest. She even offered to take Neil when he arrived, bless her heart. But of course, we know how quickly Andrew snatched Neil’s dramatic ass up into his crew.

             “That being said, I tried taking you off his hands at one point.” When Neil looked at her in surprise, Renee affected an innocent look that for once was not entirely convincing. “Andrew refused on the grounds he wouldn’t wish you on anyone except a mortician.”

             “Drama queen,” Neil muttered.

First off – lmao @ Andrew for being the drama queen we treasure him for, and lmao @ Neil for finally commenting on it.

But second – how am I to interpret that not-convincing innocent look? Did she just wanna protect Neil from Andrew and now feels about it, for not trusting her friend enough? Or does she know about Andrew’s, ahem, possible ulterior motives?

I’m betting on the latter. As if Andrew doesn’t talk to her about his crushes during their BFF sleepovers. As if.

In order to avoid his teammates’ bad spirit about, well, everything at the moment, when it comes to warm-up on the court the next day, Neil – surprise! – joins Renee and Andrew on their jog.

A lil wholesome conversation will go a long way, folks, even if that long way just goes around the Court walls.

And what does my favourite Brotp in this universe do on their mighty distinguished Break Walks?

They discusss hypothetical WWIII scenarios.

LOVELY.

Seriously, I love this. This is exactly the kind of wholesome normal best-friends-havin-a-chat content I signed up for, and I can’t believe my poor heart is finally getting what it deserves.

Neil is equally delighted by the Goalie BFFs’ choice of debate subject, and his thirsty ass is immediately back the next day.

And it gets better – today, it’s zombie apocalypses.

ZOMBIE APOCALYPSES.

             Surviving on the run was Neil’s forte, and it was interesting to see how his priorities compared with theirs. Renee stressed the importance of collecting survivors, which Andrew shot down immediately.

Because of course she did, because of course he did.

I LOVE THIS.

Every single thing about this is gold and I want a billion fanarts.

             Neil wondered what he would do if an invasion really happened. (…) Chances were it’d be instinctive to abandon all of them if the undead put in a ravenous appearance. It wasn’t exactly an uplifting realization, but Neil could accept the ugly truths about himself.

This, this is so important to me. Neil isn’t magically over his entire upbringing now that he’s got friends, he’ll maybe always have these instincts his mother put in him, but he’s coming to accept this about himself. He’s being open and honest with himself, even if it means addressing bad emotions and bad truths and really man have I mentioned I love Neil Josten recently.

In other news: Renee is apparently texting buddies with Jean now!

And I’m p sure they allowed outside contact with the Foxy Orange Scum beneath their Holy Feathery Feet, so Jean is probably breaking a billion laws (and maybe risking a few fingers) sending memes to Renee, so props to you, my man. You have my approval to be engaging in contact with my fave sweetheart.

Neil is equally on board with this.

             “I’m hoping she can weaking his blind loyalty.” Neil thought about it a moment longer, then said, “Maybe that’s why Matt stopped betting on the two of you?”

This is either Neil being the oblivious fuck that we know and treasure, or Neil poking the bear.

Either way, good shit right there if I do say so myself.

To close this chapter off – we’re in for another Prime Andreil Deep Talk. This time featuring: Money!

             “It isn’t charity,” Neil said. “It’s revenge. It wasn’t my money in the first place, remember? I told you my father skimmed it from the Moriyamas. If you take some for your car, you’re making Riko fix what his fans destroyed.”

Can your stolen money also fix Riko’s attitude, asking for a friend.

             “Revenge is a motivator only for the weak-willed,” Andrew said.

             “If you believed that you wouldn’t be planning on how to kill Proust.”

OHHHH burn. Did I mention I’m here for Neil Take No Shit Josten lately?

Also yikes. Almost forgot about that guy.

I’m intrigued to see whether he actually appears in this book.

Andrew retaliates this comment by blowing a fuckton of smoke in Neil’s face, which Neil retaliates by breaking Andrew’s cigarette.

Actual fucking children, I tell you.

             “You bought the last car with someone’s death. You can buy this one with someone’s life – my life. That money was going to buy my next name when I ran away from here. Thanks to you I don’t need it anymore.”

Yeah, hi, if anyone needs me I’ll be subtly crying in a corner.

             “Make a new deal with me. (…) What would you give me?” Neil asked.

             “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

             Neil frowned at him, lost, but Andrew didn’t waste his breath explaining.

Ah yes, and here we are back again with Neil being an oblivious idiot. Jeez, boi.

Ily, but use ya brain.

Mirculously, Neil does, but quite differently than I expected him to – he convinces Andrew to give up cracker dust.

Nice, I guess. One addiction less. Kind of anticlimactic, though.

Next!

             Andrew thought it over a minute, then flicked his cigarette at Neil. It singed the material where it bounced off his shirt. (…)

             “I’m going to take your temper tantrum as a yes,” Neil said.

The sass does not stop, you guys.

Wonderful.

If you like what I do here and you want me to continue writing fun things for you, why not buy me a coffee? Every lil bit helps, getting me through uni and all that jazz. Thanks so much!

[ghghdosfi]

when i was 6 i twisted my ankle in PE. this was perhaps my first experience with oblivion. i so consumed by physical pain i considered nothing else. i sat on the floor in the corner of the lunch hall convinced i had broken myself forever. as i tried to rationalise what had happened and what should subsequently happen, i realised one thing: no one could know. despite the swelling and my inability to walk i convinced my mother nothing was wrong. i informed her my limping was an april fools joke as my eyes water and i ground my teeth so hard to cope with the pain i was almost unable to speak. and for four years my ankle continued to hurt, likely as a result of the my medical treatment i deprived myself of at the time. the all encompassing agony of the sprain was replaced with feelings of guilt about lying. for years i wrestled with my conscience, unable to pinpoint the root of my self-indignation. the misery it caused me was inexplicable. i felt trapped and thought constantly of how i could escape the self-inflicted mental and physical torment. i knew how it felt to be suicidal before i even understood my own morality. what a funny little paradox.

when i was 7 i agonised over getting 7/10 on a spelling test. i cried as i felt the weight of failure tugging on every particle of my being. my skin stung, tears streamed down my face and i felt my micro-cosmic world crumble. i kept the extent of the defeat to myself unable to articulate why it was so significant. this was the only assessment i faced where the results were comprehendible to me. the mark out of 10 i received at the end of the academic week was the only unit by which i could rationally decipher my self-worth. in a class of 30 children and in a world of 7 billion people a 7/10 was a bad omen. it alluded to all the failure i would experience for the rest of my life. i thought i couldn’t cope with this feeling ever again, but knew i would inevitably experience it. i didn’t know how to deal with this realisation. i indulged in the same irrational form of self-pity when i achieved 2A*s and and A in my A-levels instead of 3A*s. i didn’t get out of bed for three days.

after years of being plagued by misery which i credited to a seemingly arbitrary situational unpleasantry which invariably changed over time when i realised the thing i was obsessing over was futile, i had a epiphany. these were not reasons; they were excuses i was always going to be dissatisfied and sad, i rationalised these pre-existing feelings by blaming one of the short-comings in my life. i convinced myself if one thing changed i would be happy. but i wouldn’t. the problem was internal. it was at this point i understood the meaningless and dissatisfaction of existence and finally accepted the inevitably of death. this became my new thing was think about. i was saturated with ennui and engulfed by loneliness. i was 9.

when i was 13, things got a bit more cliche. i started worrying about things normal people of my age worried about. like why i wasn’t as pretty as my friends (genetics and poor dress sense), why boys didn’t like me (genetics, poor dress sense and poor conversational skills), why i had sex dreams about girls (hormones and latent bisexuality), academic underachievement (adhd and laziness) and why my parents didn’t understand me (hormones, poor conversational skills and adhd). it was then i began my love affair with self-harm. god she was good. the most bizarre thing was this was at a time when i felt quite comfortable in my cynicism, everyone was depressed, adolescence i was warned was a struggle and i would come out the other side better off for it, with boobs.  

in fact i sit here writing this with the white lines i etched onto my forearms with the optimistic vision of self-improvement now accompanied by a trail of fresh cigarette burns. old habits die hard. to purposefully damage one’s own body defies the voice your head that prioritises survival at any cost. its the voice of your primal nature, that outlasted all of human evolution because it was what enabled your ancestors to live long enough to reproduce. it is a driving force behind every emotion we feel and every impulse we are inevitable to. the message “stay in optimum physical condition at any and all costs” plays through our minds so ferociously and so persistently, it is white noise, white noise with powerful subconscious influence we are not aware of. physically harming ones self for no reason other than for the art of self-destruction itself makes a mockery of it. it feels like a means of escape from our pathetic primality. yes i want to fuck everyone and would be somewhat satisfied to see my female friends, or in evolutionary terms my reproductive rivals, perish (if by perish you mean get fat and started wearing crocs to social events), but look! i carved the word ‘why?’ into my thigh with a razor blade so fuck you, instincts, i subvert you

i was 17 when i first encountered my new muse: ritalin. now she knew what i wanted. i was skinnier, sharper, motivated and i excelled academically. i also punched my brother in the face on a come down and broke his nose while he was recovering from a  bone marrow transplant. hey, the course of love never runs smoothly. finally i could collect my thoughts and articulate concisely and effectively, the downside was this was very addicting. not the sensation of euphoria i felt when it was kicking in or even the feeling of invicibility i experienced when i was able to work for 8 consecutive hours without eating or sleeping. i became addicted to my new found efficiency and productivity. they say ignorance is bliss and i was no longer oblivious to my potential. i never wanted to go back. and when i had to, when the pills ran out, the weight i gained seemed to me the perfect metaphor for my natural lack of self-discipline and wasted ability. with drugs i could be thin, sexy and clever, why should i deprive myself? drugs in general opened me up, alcohol, nicotine, weed, MDMA and valium showed alternative ways to perceive the illusion we call reality. brain chemistry is mutable. why not mute the bits that don’t serve me in any way? drugs are amazing and that’s why they have the power to ruin your life. people who love drugs are precisely the people for whom its best not to experience the enlightenment and mindfulness they give you. people who are inherently dissatisfied with consciousness in its standard form find it hard to step back down to reality.

i’m 19. i think i’ve changed a lot. i haven’t really. this personality has evolved and manifested at different stages in my life in the most predictable way possible. i have a confused and inconsistent relationship with sex. i have a confused and inconsistent relationship with almost every person i know. i don’t have a plan, but i do have a fairly big ego. i don't have any asperations but i do have a lot of scars. i have experienced failure and success sometimes simultaneously, love and apathy often simultaneously and happiness and melancholy always simultaneously.

what can be said for me in the long run? well ‘in the long run we are all dead’

the end seems nye, but ‘i don’t pay attention to the world ending. it has ended for me many times and began again in the morning’