#like someone really lonely and longing for human warmth and connection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forsworned · 11 months ago

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No One Noticed ft. Hesh Walker

Synopsis: Feeling lonely and disconnected, you find solace in an online gaming forum where you meet Hesh, a war veteran who secretly works as an elite member of the Ghosts task force. Despite Hesh's initial tough exterior, he's soft for you and bonds through shared gaming experiences, late-night texts, and calls. Eager to bring their digital connection into the real world, You're convinced by your newfound virtual love to fly to his city to explore a potential relationship. Will your connection flourish or go to shit?

Warnings: Canon Game Violence, Canon Violence, Sexual Content, Phone Sex, Sexting, PnV sex, Cunninglingus, Blowjob, 9.8k words

Author's note: This song makes me so emotional and who better to write this for than my love, Hesh

If you could change anything, it would be your soul-sucking day job. Typing away at transcripts behind your desk is tedious, mind-numbing, and downright exhausting. You glance at the clock—it finally reads 4:30PM. A sigh of relief escapes you as you save your work and close the tab. The hum of your old office lamp and the clatter of your keyboard are the only sounds breaking the monotony. Your eyes ache from the screen's glare, and the cold air in the office makes the warmth of your couch even more inviting.

Ping!

The chat pop-up lights up your dim screen, and you feel a sudden rush of serotonin.

MyDawgRiley99: Your day been as shitty as mine?

A soft laugh escapes you as you read his message. Since joining a gaming lobby with a group of military guys during a late-night Fortnite session, you've found yourself playing with them almost every time they invite you. You never really pried into their daily lives; you were just looking to unwind. And yet, some nights, one of them would linger after the others had logged off, not to play, but simply to talk and unwind.

And over time, you began to savor the sound of his voice, finding comfort in its deep, resonant tone. You bite your bottom lip before typing away at your keyboard:

CtrlFreak: Seems like we're both in the trenches today.

As you're about to close out the tab, his reply bubble immediately appears, and you feel your spirits lift.

MyDawgRiley99: Long day at the office?

You scoff, shaking your head. Maybe you’re sharing too much with someone you’ve only met online, but you think to yourself, If he's half as sexy as he sounds, it should be okay, right? Right??

CtrlFreak: Like you wouldn't believe. I'm two seconds away from losing it.

MyDawgRiley99: Well, let's try to fix that. Same time?

You glance at your stack of requests and exhale sharply. Falling behind on deadlines and getting chewed out by your boss isn't your idea of relaxation, but for one night, just one freakin' night...

CtrlFreak: I really shouldn't...

MyDawgRiley99: Just one match?

You snort softly. You know what that means. One match turns into five, with hours of talking in between while you sit in the lobby. Sometimes, others join, and it’s nothing but a constant roast session that leaves you craving more genuine human interaction. It’s a vicious cycle.

CtrlFreak: I'll think about it. MyDawgRiley99: Haha, I'll be waiting for ya.

You shut your laptop and press your forehead against the warm alloy. The constant burnout of your job leaves you unfocused, fatigued, and jittery from all the espresso shots you need just to stay awake.

But you decide to join anyway. He immediately joins your party the moment you load into the lobby.

"Almost thought you wouldn't hop on tonight." His voice comes through your headset, instantly relaxing you.

The corners of your lips curl into a smile. "What can I say? You've tempted me."

He chuckles, and it's flirty, light, fun, and easy. In this moment, you want nothing more than to relish the escapism that comes from the unknown soldier on the other side of your screen. Amidst your grueling workday, his voice is like a coolness that soothes your burning heart, pulling you from the depths of mundanity into a world where conversation flows as smoothly as his laughter.

You tap on your controller, trying to control the strange desire stirring within you. You have no idea what he looks like—or what any of them look like, really.

Truthfully, you never bothered to ask for names. You referred to each other by the first initial of your real names. His being 'H.'

"You wanna talk about it?" The sound of him munching on chips comes through the speaker, causing you both to laugh. "My bad."

"All good. Nah, I'm just burned out." You readjust yourself on your sofa and lean back against the cushion, closing your eyes as you savor the sound of his smooth tenor.

"I get that. Trust me."

You feel that smile returning. "Right, right."

"Well," he begins, playfully defensive at your casual dismissal. "I'm just sayin'—"

Your laughter echoes through the headset, and he sighs, the smile on his face growing at your teasing. "Always gettin’ me worked up."

"You fall for it every time." You retort. Your mirth fades, and it's quiet for a moment. You tap at your controller again, playing with the joystick as your heart begins to race. There's almost a need to ask him to reveal himself to you. After all those nights dreaming about him, you find yourself yearning to know what he looks like.

"So," he clears his throat, shaking you out of your mild daze. "um, I don't want you to feel like you have to, but..."

You sit up a bit, feeling your throat go dry at his sudden change in tone. You can literally feel the tension through the connection.

"Well, I'm just kind of curious about, you know," his voice holds hesitation, an eagerness to pry. It creates a charged silence between you. The playful teasing shifts into something more earnest, and you can almost hear the curiosity in his tone as he tries to find the right words.

"Uh huh," you playfully taunt. You can tell where this is going, and you can't help but feel exhilarated at the thought of finally knowing what he looks like.

He chuckles, and it sends a thrill up your spine. "Uhhhh," he awkwardly laughs again, and you join in. The smile on your lips stretches broadly across your face, making your cheeks sore.

"I mean, we've been talking on here for months, so I'm just curious about how you look, you know?" He sighs. "Aren't you?"

You giggle at the apprehensiveness in his voice. "Seems like it's been weighing on your mind."

"Something like that." He clears his throat. "Obviously, it can stay this way. No pressure."

You scratch your head, feeling trepidation seeping into your bones. It isn't a now-or-never moment. You could simply say no or maybe another time, but you feel this irresistible pull from him. You think that even if he isn't the most attractive guy, it's not the end of the world...

"Okay." You simply say.

"Really!?" He exclaims, and you laugh at his enthusiasm. It's endearing, really. It's the lack of a social life that's really doing it for you. You think that maybe if you started going on Hinge again, you wouldn't have this problem of getting emotionally attached to men in Fortnite lobbies. But all of that falls into the back of your mind as you return to the present.

You're a bit tentative, but the words naturally come out. "Sure, I'm curious too." You breathe out, fiddling with the wire of your headphones between your fingers. There are dents from the hours you’ve spent on your console, talking to him during the late hours of the night.

"Yeah?" The way he says it sends a thrill up your spine again. You just know this man is sexy. Dammit.

"Yeah." You reply, almost reluctantly, as you walk over to your desktop and pull up your Discord server. Your cursor hovers over the video chat button, but he pings himself in, and you reflexively close the tab.

"What the fuck?" He laughs, and you crumble at his reaction, hiding your face in your hands.

Your heart pounds as you feel warmth crawl into your cheeks. "I'm sorry!"

He's still laughing at your reaction. You can't tell if it's because he thinks it's funny how quickly you exited or if he finds you as endearing as you find him.

"Are you shy?" He asks, still chuckling. You swallow thickly, not wanting to answer immediately. It's been far too long since you've been in the dating scene, and you’ve forgotten the simple pleasure of face-to-face flirting, reading the micro-expressions of the person across from you. To you, it was like a game—analyzing the strain on their face when you talk about your interests instead of your kinks, the bounce of their thighs when you're not throwing back sexual banter, or the way you check to see if they bear their teeth at you when they smile. It was easier knowing he was just a voice, but now it seems like he's reeling you in for more, and you find yourself struggling to say no.

You didn't want to deal with the high highs and the low lows anymore. The boring simplicity of a quiet relationship is what you craved, but a military man? That's tumultuous, grueling even. You didn't want to go back to nights of crying yourself to sleep over a man who refused to take your calls or reply to your texts because of their emotional distance and lack of therapy. But you're craving attention, and he's so willing to give it to you.

You groan at his reaction. "Fine," you grumble as you open the chat again and nibble your lip, lingering over the tab that shows he's active.

"No pressure," he teases, a hint of mischief in his tone. It's daring, and you’re no coward. You click the tab, joining the video call, and your heart races as you wait for it to load, stripping off your headset.

And then there he is, swaying in his gaming chair, his face lighting up when you enter the call.

"Oh shit," he grins, and you cover your mouth to hide the joy in your expression because he's fucking hot. The grittiness of the webcam blurs his handsome features, but you can still make out the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his viridian eyes, and the darkness of his short-cropped hair. He strokes the stubble on his cheeks, not even bothering to hide his obvious attraction. He's brunette, rugged, and attractive enough to make you want to buy a lottery ticket because you can't believe your luck. "What's up, girl?”

You feel the color drain from your face at his tone, and you quickly wave in the most awkward fashion. He looks even more amused. You realize you're not used to being looked at this way by men, and your shyness catches him off guard. "What's the matter?"

You shake your head. "N-nothing," you stammer, fiddling with the wire again. The momentary distraction of your desk lamp is all that keeps you from looking at him directly.

"Come on, don't be shy now," he coos, smiling so widely that it almost makes you want to melt into your chair.

You stare at the small thumbnail of yourself on the screen, feeling somewhat more exposed than you're used to. After a few seconds, you finally allow yourself to look at him again.

"I don't know," you laugh. "I wasn't expecting you to look like that."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, and you catch a glimpse of his dimples. "What were you expecting, then?"

"An ogre," you joke.

He throws his head back, laughing. "Damn, you really had no faith in me." he jokes back, and you're both nervously giggling at your first video chat. It’s awkward in all the right ways. The tension between you increases, but it’s different now. The curtain of anonymity you both sought on this platform has been lifted.

You shake your head, still bashful from his handsomeness. It irritates you. One hot guy gives you attention, and you're falling to your knees.

"Not one bit." You tuck your lips into your mouth, and he leans his chin on his palm, admiring the details of your face. You're just not ready to admit your attraction yet. You’d rather let it linger in the air, maybe make him pine for your compliments.

There's another pause as the playful banter fades into a softer, more charged silence. The tension hangs in the air, neither of you quite sure what to say next. You chew your lip, still somewhat unsure of how you want this to go. But before you can overthink it, he speaks up again.

"So... maybe we could meet up sometime?" His voice is tentative, like he's not quite ready for your answer.

You blink, taken aback. "Oh, um," you bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your shoulders. "That sounds cool."

His smile widens, and there's something almost boyish in his excitement. "Yeah?"

You nod, giving him a shy smile. "Yeah."

"Alright then," he grins. "Let's see where this goes."

He sways in his chair again and grins. "So, did you wanna talk about it?"

And that’s the start of long conversations over the phone—your actual phone—after he asks for your number, and you coyly give it to him. More often than not, he's testing the limits of your humor with dark memes, sending you selfies and mirror pics in his uniform that you shamelessly drool over, and FaceTiming you during his night shifts to keep him company while you sprawl out on your bed.

In his downtime, he shamelessly fists at his dick at the mere thought of you. Those pretty lips on his leaking tip, licking up the precum that oozes out and coats the plushness of your flesh. He wonders how you taste, what makes you moan, because at this point it’s obvious you’re both really into each other. Neither of you wants to break the ice—you simply enjoy the flirting and the cutesy banter. He loves the way you giggle at his stupid jokes and how you seem to show a little more skin the more calls you have.

Like when you get up from your seat, and instead of wearing your usual sweats, you’re now sporting a pair of curve-hugging plaid shorts and a flimsy tank top with straps that are always slipping off your shoulders. And it’s painfully obvious when he flares his nose playfully at you and glances away. Maybe there’s a subtle gesture of him adjusting himself, and you throw your head back, not bothering to hide the delight in your laughter.

"You know what you're doing," he quips, drumming his fingers on his work table.

You lean back in your chair and fiddle with the squishy cactus stress toy, stretching out the arms and letting them go with a pop. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," you chime with a giggle.

His eyes fall on your braless figure, cleavage spilling out of the V-shaped collar, tracing the outline of your nipples that peak through the sheer fabric.

"Yes, you do," he insists, gripping the hem of his compression shorts as they strain against his throbbing dick.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye. "And what's that?"

He doesn’t miss a beat. "Being a sexy little vixen." His eyes roam your body again, and you hide your burning face. God, his directness was always so sexy to you. He never bothered to hide the way he felt. Especially when he would heart every selfie you sent him, throwing praises your way like you were the only woman in the world.

"You're not foolin’ me," he presses on, grabbing his planner and clicking his pen as he begins to jot something down.

Your curiosity piques. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" He provocatively glances up at you. "I’m writing down the dates that I’m off."

"For?"

"When I meet you."

Your eyes widen at his boldness, and a shy smile graces your lips. "Meet me?" Your heart picks up its rhythm, and you’re trying your hardest not to get too giddy about it.

He taps his metal pen against the paper, leans back in his chair, and licks his lips. "Is that a problem?"

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward about meeting you. Fuck, he looks so damn edible when he manspreads, looking nonchalant and relaxed. He can sense your yearning but also your hesitation.

He leans forward again, sincerity coming easy to him. "Look," he begins, wanting to comfort you, to assure you he won’t take advantage of you, but he knows it’s a privilege to be in your presence.

"I know you’ve probably heard this a million times: 'You won’t get hurt, you can trust me.' And I know it’s an absolute luxury to even exist alongside you."

That makes you blush. It’s so easy to tell that he was raised right.

"But this," he gestures between the two of you, "I want to know if it’s real. There’s only so much I can tell from behind a screen."

You understand what he means. The essence of a person—their aura, their charisma—is so much more tangible and real when you meet them in person. Seeing their quirks, their habits, feeling their energy. It’s different.

"I know you know what I mean."

You nod. "I do." You lick your lips, searching for the right response. There’s really no doubt in your mind that you want to meet him. I mean, for God's sake, he's mouthwatering. The way his abs peek out from under his loose shirt when he stretches, the playful way he flexes his taut biceps, his calloused hands hardened from war and long hours at the gym. He's just delectable all around.

But are you willing to take the leap?

Somehow, you're still asking yourself that as you peer out the window of the airplane. Your ticket is paid for—first class, with all the accommodations…it’s like a dream.

The landscape below is a patchwork of rebuilt cities and scarred land, signs of a world that has been through hell but is clawing its way back.You can’t help but wonder if this is a glimpse into the future you’re stepping into. A life beyond the screen, in a world where the remnants of war are slowly being overtaken by new growth, where hope is becoming tangible again.

The plane touches down smoothly on a newly restored runway, and as you step into the terminal, you’re greeted by the sight of soldiers, workers, and civilians mingling in a place that once might have been a warzone. Your heart races with anticipation, nervousness, and a hint of something deeper. This isn’t just about meeting him—it’s about stepping into a world that both of you are trying to find your place in.

He’s waiting for you just outside the baggage claim, leaning casually against a pillar. The grittiness of the webcam is replaced by the crisp reality of his presence. The sharpness of his jawline, the vividness of his eyes, and the way his uniform fits him perfectly—it all hits you at once. You realize that you weren’t fully prepared for how striking he’d be in person.

The moment stretches between you, just like it did during your video calls, but now there’s no screen to hide behind. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if he’s trying to memorize you all over again. And then, with a grin that sends a shiver down your spine, he steps forward.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower and more resonant in person, sending a thrill through you.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your cool, but the way your voice trembles gives you away.

His grin widens, and he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch is electric, sending sparks through your body. He notices the way you react and chuckles softly, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.

“You’re just as pretty as I imagined,” he says, his bluntness making your cheeks heat up.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you manage to tease, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He laughs, a sound that’s warm and genuine, and it eases some of the tension between you. He leans into you, enveloping you into a warm embrace and you easily return it as you snake your arms around his neck. The smell of his aftershave engulfs your senses and you relax into his touch. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, withdrawing from you to grab your bag effortlessly as he leads you toward the exit.

Outside, the air is fresher than you expected, a sign that nature is beginning to reclaim the earth. The city around you is a mix of new constructions and old ruins. It’s almost nothing like the California you remember. He leads you to a sleek, black SUV and opens the passenger door for you.

As you settle into your seat, you glance at him as he climbs in, feeling a mix of emotions. This is the man you’ve spent hours talking to, flirting with, and getting to know through a screen. Now he’s here, real and tangible, and the chemistry between you is undeniable.

He catches you staring and smirks, reaching over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice soft but with an edge of excitement.

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yeah,” you nervously avert your gaze and nod. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Hesh nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “So, here’s the plan,” He hands you the aux cord. And you grin as you take it from him. “We’re gonna head back to the base,”

He sees you visibly stiffen. “But,” And you raise your brows waiting for him to continue. “We’re going back to my place after we check you in.”

You let out a sigh of relief and he laughs, as he watches you plug your phone in and shake your head.

“Come on, you know that I live off base.” Hesh occasionally glances over at you, as if making sure you’re comfortable while you shuffle through your playlist. He seems to be the picture of calm, but you can sense the underlying tension that lingers between you two.

You say nothing and end up settling on a song you both love (mostly you).

You should stay real close to Jesus Keep that bottle at your hand, my man

He chuckles at your pick, and reaches over to hold your hand. A wave of comfort washes over you. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m Lana coded for the hundredth time.”

You giggle at him and sit up a bit. “You are!”

He shakes his head and lets the song play, humming along to the tune and you’re actively burning it into your mind. It’s something you want to remember every detail of. The way he squeezes your hand while the other is on his steering wheel, tapping his finger at the steering wheel. How thick his dark lashes are, how pretty his viridian hues are when they peek over at you to make sure you’re real and not a figment of his imagination.

As you approach the base, the outer level is a standard Marine military facility, with its usual array of buildings and vehicles. It’s not completely unknown to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been on a military base. Military personnel pinlines the large metal gate and one of the guards approaches the vehicle as Hesh fishes out his ID.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Hesh says as you pull up to the guard. “I’ll have to check you in at the visitor’s center first. They don’t let civilians past this point without clearance.”

You nod, trying to hide your nerves as he pulls into a parking lot near the visitor’s center. He senses your apprehension and turns fully to you, gently grasping your hand. “Hey,” He reaches out to cup your chin, and your breath catches in your throat. His earthy green eyes are trained on you. “God, you’re so pretty.” His fingers gently trace your chin, and you fluster under his fixed gaze. “We’re gonna be outta here in no time, and we’ll spend the whole week together, m’kay?”

“Okay.” You squeeze his hand back, and he brings your wrist to his lips, placing a yearning kiss to your skin. It feels as if it were searing to the touch.

Hesh escorts you into the visitor center, a space designed for civilians to wait while military personnel handle their business. He gives you a reassuring smile before heading to the more secure parts of the base. You watch as he disappears into the maze of corridors, leaving you with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After what feels like an eternity, Hesh returns, his face relaxed and his eyes bright. “All set,” he says, offering you his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You take his hand, and he leads you back to the SUV. The tension between you two is almost palpable, but it’s softened by the warmth of his touch and the promise of time together away from the base.

The scenery changes to one of a regular suburban neighborhood. From the white picket fences to the restaurants that line the streets to the long lines of cypress and palm trees, you wouldn’t even know the difference.

“Oh my God, there’s a Taco Bell!” You point out and Hesh laughs at the incredulousness in your tone.

“Yeah, it’s like any other cookie cutter neighborhood.” He turns into a cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of the biggest home on the block. It’s a mediterranean style home, classic red roof tiles, a stucco exterior with metal work accents. There’s personal touches of greenery, succulents in various sized terracotta pots, a handful of olive trees and wildflowers that maze around the stone path.

“This is cookie cutter!?” You exclaim, as he helps you out of the vehicle. “You have a sweet crib.”

He smirks at you, carrying your suitcase with one hand and your hand in the other. “Just wait til you see the inside.”

And somehow the interior is much more obnoxiously cozy and earthy. It’s truly a delight to be in a home where beachy tones of seafoam green, turquoise and cerulean are the main color scheme. It really makes you feel like you're on vacation.

“...and if you’re really down, we can go to the beach…[name]?” He calls out to you and your wandering eyes land back on him. He grins at you, closing the space between you two. “You listenin’?”

“Not really,” You shamelessly admit. “Your place is lovely. Like something out of a magazine.”

He chuckles as he moves past you to climb up the winding staircase with your carry-on and suitcase. “Play your cards right, and this could be yours, too.”

You turn around ripping out of your stupor, “Huh?”

“Nothin’.” He softly snorts, and you follow him the stairs as he shows you to his room. He gives you the option of the guest bedroom or his. You notice little things around the home that paths the walls, small trinkets, memorabilia and photo frames of family members. It all looks different in person, even if he’s given you a house tour over FaceTime.

Peeking into his room, you notice how everything is neatly organized, band posters of Creed, Papa Roach and the like are hung up on his forest green walls. A diffuser runs on his nightstand and it smells like something between sandalwood and amber vanilla. He’s taken all the necessary precautions to make you feel homey.

“Your room.” You smile at him, and he’s more than eager to please. The conversation flows just as easy as it does in person, even as you tell him to turn around while you strip down to get into your bikini.

He promised you all the beach time you could get, and despite the minor jetlag that nags at your slightly foggy mind, you were in the mood to sunbathe. Bonus that you get to show off your summer bod and Hesh is more than willing to peel off his shirt for some much needed skin-to-skin. Even if he can just wrap his taut, tanned arm around your waist to claim you, he’s just happy to be in your company.

“So, what about the others?” you cock a brow at him, as he flagrantly eyes your figure while you build a sandcastle.

He shakes his head and scoffs, viridian hues trailing down the exposed parts of your skin. “Others?”

You tuck your finger under his chin, signaling for him to look at you and not ogle your body. “Yeah, your other teammates that we play with?”

“Oh right…” He gets lost in your eyes and the way they softly crinkle when you smile, followed by the melodic sound of your laughter and he can’t help but to laugh with you. “They don’t need to know you’re here. Besides, they’re preoccupied.”

You tilt your head. “With?”

He pauses. There’s vacillation behind the earthiness of his eyes. A certain type of secrecy that goes beyond the typical confidentiality that comes with being in the military. “Just stuff.”

“Okay,” You shake your head, not wanting to interrogate him. In the past, he had mentioned that a lot of the things he does out in the field require the utmost discretion and you’re not one to scruple around and find out.

You’d done enough research and background checks to know that he was a military brat, a veteran, has a dog named Riley (whom he misses terribly, but had to go on an op with his brother, Logan), and is oddly passionate about sourdough starters. He’s always open to answering your questions that don’t revolve around his work, which again you’re not entitled to know but you couldn’t say you weren’t the least bit intrigued.

The rest of the day plays out like a dream. Not a single one of your vivid, maladaptive daydreams could touch this. From the way he carries you to the waters of the Pacific Ocean and you cling to him with sea salt in your hair to the way your first kiss sends a thrill of pure electricity up your spine as the sunsets. His lips are soft, plush and salty from the water, and his fingers and hands are as calloused and rough as you had imagined them.

And you literally can’t get enough of him. Especially when he just can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Seriously, like you need a crowbar to pry them off because he’s attached to the hip. Of course, he lets you go when you need to rinse off the beach from your skin in his shower, but he can’t help but let his thoughts wander. Your wet, naked untouched body just standing under his enclosure he’s installed in the backyard like you’re waiting to be ravaged by him.

Because dammit that’s what you want. To have him slip in, wrap his strong arms around your waist, pebbling your nipples between his fingertips as he kisses at your neck and bends you over--

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna wait here for as long as you need.” He sarcastically remarks over the sound of the running water. You giggle at the playfulness in his tone.

“Oh, I’ll take all night, baby.” You scrub at your skin with the loofa he gave you, watching as the soap becomes sudsy white foam that covers your body. And he accidentally gets a glimpse through the cracks in the bamboo casting and--Lord have mercy on his soul. If it weren’t for the body wash he’d given you from earlier, you’d be all exposed to him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He mutters, sitting on the nearby bench just outside of the shower, fiddling with his drawstrings of his swimming trunks. It’s a failed attempt at trying to quell his dirty thoughts of you and keep his wandering eyes away from the little opening he can see you through.

You swallow thickly as you exfoliate your back, but your arms are sore from trying to get back into shape before meeting with him. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to propose…

“You wanna wash my back for me?”

There’s a pause. The weight of your words and the heavy silence is agonizing, leaving you in regret and pre-dejection.

“You sure?” He says a bit too quietly, and you hear the sound of his feet shifting against the sandstone.

You lick your lips and nod. “Yeah, I mean only if you want to…”

He chuckles, “don’t have to ask me twice.” And you hear the scuffling of his feet hitting the grit of the sandy covered stone floor. You hold your breath as he pads on the bamboo panels over to you, and you hear the distinct sharp inhale the moment he gets a full glimpse of you. You feel your shyness overcome you knowing you are now completely bare to him, but the sound of his wet swimming trunks being casted to the side makes you flinch.

His warmth and his scent casts a shadow over your mind as he envelops you with his arms, taking the soapy loofa from your hands. You can feel his heart drumming against his chest as your shaky breaths mingle for a bit, but the bristles scrub at your upper and lower back preoccupy your mind. You can feel how he squeezes the soap down the swell of your ass and gets to work again.

“I said, my back.” You susurrate, half turning to him and he smirks.

“My bad, should I stop?” He presses his lips against your shoulder and peeks up at you with dampened dark lashes. You shudder at his touch. It had been long, too long. His touch is making the pyre in your lower belly ignite and you can’t help but lean your weight against him, exposing your neck to him. “I need you to use your words, sweetheart…”

You whine at his pressing need for verbal confirmation. “No, don’t stop.” He hums against your skin and he gently exfoliates over the peaks of your breast, concentrating on how they pebble under his touch. He experimentally thumbs over the hardened bud, tweaking it between his fingers as he kisses the sweet spots on your neck. It’s a pleasurable feeling that leaves you tingly and throbbing.

You can feel his hardening length pressing against your ass and you gently brush your fingers against it, and he reflexively bucks his hips. “Eager, are we?”

“I could say the same for you!” You chirp, and his laughter reverberates against your back. He gently takes your chin to face him, and he glances down at your flustered gaze before softly latching his lips to yours. His hands, however, do not stop moving. They’re roaming over the expanse of your breast, squeezing at your thighs as he continues to kiss and squeeze you.

It’s fucking hot the way he can’t help but intermingle his moans with you, whispering your name as he finally slips his fingers between your thighs. And you glance up at him with a half-lidded gaze, lips parted and scrunched brows.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He’s totally melting under your fervent gaze, and the sweet, sweet feeling of your velvety folds against the rough pads of his fingers.

“Oh, fuck…David…” You gasp, lolling your eyes to the back of your skull. His dick isn’t even in you yet and yet, his fingers are doing more for you than any other man. It’s so easy for him to work both of his fingers into you as he uses his palm to rub at your clit.

“My God, you are so wet.” He croaks, thrusting his fingers into you, past your g-spot and to press against your cervix and you collapse against him when you feel your orgasm practically jump you. He feels you spasm against him, walls fluttering against his fingers and presses his lips against yours again, taking in every one of your little moans and gasps.

And after you’ve caught your breath, there’s a flash of amusement that takes over his handsome features. “I didn’t think you’d cum so quickly.” He tenderly kisses your shoulder, and then your cheek and up to your hair. You feel your cheeks burn, silently cursing him for his agile fingers, but the humiliation is over in seconds when you turn your body to press flush against his.

The kiss is electrifying, adrenaline shoots through you and you’re craving more and more of him. His lips part from yours for an instant and he tucks the dampened strand of hair behind your ear.

“Not everything all at once, sweetheart.” He grins, and your jaw slightly drops at his taunting. He bites his lips at the disbelief in your expression. He wants to ensure that you know that he’s not in it for the quick fuck, that you’re more than that to him. That he’s more than happy to please you, but the sex part. He wants to wait a little. Make sure that you’re really comfortable and you’re not feeling like you’re being coerced into it.

You sigh as you surf through the 1000s of channels he has on 70 inch plasma screen TV while he takes a long ass piss. Like seriously, this man drinks water by the gallon. But you’re content. You’re sitting on the end of his bed, clad in his Nike hoodie that sits oversized on your body and he’s quietly admiring you from the bathroom door way. He’s wondering how he got so damn lucky.

He silently treks over to where you’re perched over the bed, and squats in between your legs, snaking his strong arms against you. His eyes hold an earnest expression, “I can’t believe we met over a Fortnite lobby.”

And that causes you to giggle and rehash all the late night matches you’ve had together, how he’s listened to you pour your heart out to him about all of your troubles and even Venmo’d you a handful of times out of the kindness of his heart.

He watches how your eyes droop, and how any minute you’re about to knock out cold. And soon he’s ushering you under the covers, snug as a bug under his cotton-linen sheets. He joins you from behind, the scent of you is overwhelming and he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. The floral, musky scent of your shampoo is interwoven into your hair paired with your soft snores, easily helping him drift into a deep sleep.

And when you wake up in the morning it still doesn’t settle in. Not when you wake up to him sleepily rubbing his eyes and peering up at you with that damn grin of his, not when you’re beside him brushing your teeth over his sink and definitely not when you’re sitting across from him on the kitchen bar as he makes you breakfast with nothing but his grey sweats barely hanging off his hips.

It’s cute. The way you two feed each other pancakes and eggs, and how you share the equal feeling of bafflement when you’re facing each other, unable to undo the heap of twisted limbs. Despite his lack of interest in having you meet his teammates yesterday, he wants nothing more than to show you off. In fact, that’s all he does when he’s holding your hand out in the shopping area, buying you anything you happen to say is cute or that you try on that’s very much to his liking.

He’s getting stopped by soldiers who are also meandering through the streets of San Diego and word gets around fast because soon the crew knew about your sudden appearance all over his Instagram story and the group chat is poppin'.

Logan: No way you flew her out here… Keegan: Kids’, got balls Merrick: I’ll have a word with you when we get back Kick: Wait…who is this again?

“I’m assuming they’re taking it well?”

He hears your musing voice, and he tears away his gaze from his phone screen to look at you with a beguiled expression. He can’t help but be giddy, as he watches you pad over to him in nothing but his t-shirt, coffee in hand as you take your seat in his lap like it’s reserved just for you. And it feels so natural to have you in his arms like this. You fit so perfectly against him and he’s having to dent his skin with half crescents in an effort to ensure he’s not dreaming.

But reality strikes at you again when you realize that even though you are on vacation, you’re still getting email notifications of transcript requests nearing their deadlines. Your mood shifts and he peeks over at your phone screen, taking your hand in his as he brushes the hair from your face.

“Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?”

And that single question is enough to ignite the balmy feeling between your thighs. Your lips instantly find his as you straddle his lap on the love seat, and a small sound of surprise followed by pleasure emits from him, soon finding themselves latching to the side of his throat and he’s threading his fingers through your hair.

You find yourself returning the favor, slipping your fingers under the waistband of his boxers as your tug at his hardened cock. Vulgarities skid past his mouth as he tries his damned best to fixate those pretty green eyes on you, but they right open when he sees you’ve settled between his thighs. Your plush lips against his aching, swollen tip.

A groan leaves his lips as you do nothing but tease him with the tip of your tongue before taking him wholly into your mouth, but he doesn’t want to cum yet. He wants to have experienced you fully. So he’s lifting you off the carpet and laying you on the cushion, spreading you wide and dick throbs at your glistening pussy before immersing himself in it. And God, his tongue is as heavenly as his fingers are. He’s not shy at all when it comes to lapping you up like it’s his last meal, shaking you out so he can get even more of you.

The sounds of his slurping are loud and lewd, humming against your clit right before he inserts his fingers into you and you’re quick to ride out your climax, grabbing at the short dark locks of his hair as you grind against his lips. He doesn’t even move off of you, the sensation of you writhing beneath him as you try to pry him off arouses him, but he obliges when you begin to whine.

He lets go with a pop, your arousal drips down his chin and you welcome him back with a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pushes you further down onto the couch. You don’t want to stop, you crave him far too much in this instance to halt his actions. Especially when you’re realizing that he’s naked now, and you’re left in only his shirt. But his fingers are dancing over your stomach, reflexively dipping in at his touch until he gets to the peaks of your breasts.

The fabric lifts off your body and he takes you in. “You’re seriously so stunning, [name].”

You like that he says your name. Not just some generic pet name like baby, or babe. It means something to you, to him. That you’re not just an object for his sexual gratification and you liked that.

You instantly fluster under his gaze, pupils blown leaving only the remnants of his sage green eyes. “Thank you.” You finally muster up the words after what feeling like forever. He rips his gaze from you and the thought finally comes to him. “Um,” He eyes flicker toward the staircase and then at you. “Upstairs.”

“Right.”

You chew on your lip and the anticipation builds between you as he takes your hand and leads you upstairs, giggling as you scoot on his cool bed sheets, and you feel the warmth of his hard body against yours. He leans over to his nightstand and it feels like a millennia before he fishes out a condom. You peek over to look at the box and the receipt is still attached to it, brand new which explains why he was fiddling with the cardboard for so long.

“Just for me?” You chime and he pokes his tongue in his cheek, trying to hold back his grin while he tears open the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his hardened length. His forearms are on either side of your head.

“You think I’m just out here layin’ pipe? Of course I just bought them.” He bashfully scratches his neck and you can’t help but laugh at his sheepish grin. You lift your head and cup his stubbly cheeks to bring him into a fiery kiss and he quickly returns it, feeling his cocking enfolding at your entrance.

You gasp at the way his length brushes against your weepy folds. “Please.” You murmur between kisses and he dithers for a second, searching your expression for any hint of uncertainty. But you’re all there, determined and in desperate need for his touch.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, and you frantically nod. He chuckles at your insistence and he aligns himself with your sopping core, gently prodding into you until he bottom’s out and you’re both already gasping. The saccharine feeling of being filled up is unmatched, especially when the guy that’s in you is the one you’ve been dreaming about for months.

And you don’t want him to go slow. No, that doesn’t feel like an option right now. Not after how long you feel like you’ve waited for this moment. Overwrought with desire, your fingers dig into the supple flesh of his ass and he lets out a broken whimper in the form of your name. And he seems to get the hint because he’s quickly ramming into you, your hips connect in a frenetic manner, but it’s so so so good.

His viridian eyes are reaming at the sight of your dulcet features quickly melting into a lewd expression and milky moans that spill out from your lips. He kisses you haphazardly wanting nothing more but to make you cum and trust that you’re nearly there. He’s hitting all the right places and his lower abdomen is rubbing your puffy clit in just the right way.

One hand on your hip and the other makes its way to wrap around your throat and, oh God, that look in his eyes and you’re totally done for. His name is clawing its way out from your throat as you feel the maddening rolls of passion drowning your soul with rapture, exposing your neck as you swell with a sigh and falter with a shudder that cascades up and down your body. Kiss after blissful kiss and Hesh feels every ripple in your body. It’s the catalyst of his peak, breaking under the pressure of your pulsating walls and convulsing body.

It’s the warmth of your neck as his teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, your strangled cries, your labored breaths that make it feel like his orgasm was flaring red, white and blue. You watch in awe as all the dewy green in his eyes fall golden like little stars in the sunlight peeking through his blinds. You’re both panting, melting into each other, and laughter spills from your lips as you hold one another closely. And the adoration seeps out of his bones when he notices that he’s springing back to life and you’re quick to respond to his passion.

And you don’t even know how many hours it’s been. Between refueling breaks and trips to the bathroom, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other. You begin to lose count of all the positions he’s putting you in, but you know one thing for sure--it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning.

Hesh can hardly shake you awake. You’re all wrapped up in his arms, sharing the same covers and he breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck not wanting to move from your cozy position. He stares at the ceiling, counting the stars he’s placed in the form of all the constellations he knows. Holding you like this and feeling the warmth constantly spread through his chest when he takes a little peek at you. It’s driving him nuts.

If he were being honest with you right now, he’d say that he’s done searching. That he’s found the one. But of course, he knows that you’re accustomed to the 1-2, hit-and-run, cum-and-go lowly standard of men who have fed you the same bullshit, so he reserves on that.

Your eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile stretches across your cute features, and he brushes away the strays to gather as much of your visage that he can.

“Sleep well?”

“I slept amazing.” You stretch your limbs like a cat down to the spread of your toes, but you feel the dull ache in your muscles and groan. “You must’ve put me in every position imaginable.”

A repentant smile plays on his lips as the warmth sidles into his cheeks. “You never complained.”

“Shut up.” You mimp, and he chuckles at the way you purse your lips and puff your cheeks at him.

Hesh's heart tightens as he watches how your face contorts into one of sadness, the reality of your limited time together gnaws at the both of you. You wish that you could both freeze this moment—just you, him, and the quiet morning light filtering through the linen curtains. But time, as always, marches on, and soon enough, the outside world will come knocking and you’ll have to go back to your boring desk job and he’ll have to go back on his confidential ops.

"You know," he begins, his voice soft, "we've still got a few more days. How about we make the most of them?"

Your eyes meet his, and there's a flicker of understanding. You both know that this time together is precious, and neither of you wants to waste a single second. The romance between you two is budding rapidly and you want nothing more than to cling to him, getting lost in the small blip of time that you will forever cherish.

"I'm all in," you reply, your voice firm despite the lingering exhaustion from last night’s activities. "What do you have in mind?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. "How about a lazy day? We could just stay in my bed,” he caresses the exposed part of your tummy, leaving a wake of gooseberries, “order some take out,” he nips at your earlobe and you sigh at his touch. “and see where the day takes us."

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears and you clasp your arms around his neck. It’s odd. You both feel like at any given moment either one of you will vanish into thin air and you’ll wake up alone in your loft on the other side of the country. "I think that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both fall silent, simply enjoying the comfort of being close. But the weight of the week ticking away lingers in the air, a reminder that this isn't your everyday life. It's a bubble, fragile and fleeting.

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Whatever happens after this week... we'll figure it out, okay?" His heart tugs at the brimming tears in your eyes. He knows you’re trying to withhold all your pent up feelings and he wants nothing more than to help you squash the negativity that holds more space in your brain than it should.

You nod, your hand finding his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, we will." And you mean that.

With that, the two of you settle back into the warmth of the covers, letting the world outside wait a little longer. For now, it's just the two of you, and that's more than enough.

And just as you two had expected, the week flies by like it’s nothing. Days, afternoons and evenings of lovemaking, dancing on the beach, and him expertly instructing you on how to make the perfect sourdough loaf. How you whisper to each other about your deepest, darkest secrets. And he finds himself opening up to you about how he’s always felt like his neglectful upbringing made him slightful resentful and hardened. Oh how the tears flow at the admission that follows.

You learn that Hesh thinks he’s everything that his father is not, how his brother, Logan is the Golden Pony boy but he doesn’t blame him for it. How sometimes he wants to push away his little brother more than anything, but he’s all he got left. Your heart aches at the thought of him keeping all of these emotions pent up, so you listen to him and hold him tight; dewy eyed, tear stained and puffy.

These were the types of memories you wanted to create with your dream partner. It’s whimsical, light yet heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s like eating the most luscious dessert, but its weight holds pleasantly in your stomach.

But it leads you back to where you had initially met. The airport.

The hustle and bustle is muted as the both of you sit next to each other, snugged up as he traces patterns onto your jeans in an attempt to calm you. He doesn’t want you to leave. In his mind he’s already thinking of all the time you’re going to spend in the future--and you?

You’re already withdrawing. You’re thinking that there’s no way in hell that this will thrive. Living in two different parts of the country was not ideal for a budding relationship. For an online friendship, sure, but this easily became more than that.

“Hey,” He nudges you, and your eyes flicker up to meet him. He can sense how your energy has changed, and how you’re detaching from him and he hates it. “Stop that.” He makes you face him and your eyes are distant.

“Stop what?”

His stomach lurches. The doubt creeps back into your mind, and you feel yourself succumbing to the emptiness that you’ll endure when you get back. You’re trying to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak and pain of saying goodbye and he sees right through it. His eyes soften, but he’s determined to shake you out of your gloomy state.

“Stop thinking this won’t work,” he says firmly, continuing to draw the patterns into the fabric of your jeans. “I can see it written all over your face, and trust me, I get it. But we’ve got something here--something real, tangible.” His voice falters just slightly as he racks his brain to find the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this…about us.”

The life in your eyes returns a bit more and he knows he has you hooked onto his words that causes your heart to skip a beat.

“This week…it’s been everything I’ve imagined and more.” He cringes slightly at the corniness of his words, and you can’t help but chuckle a little. He’s being so sincere, and you feel yourself choking up. “And I know we’ve just met, but I feel so comfortable with you.” He rolls his eyes a bit at his own words. “Like I’ve known you forever.” And you giggle again, nodding along with him.

He is right, of course. It really does feel like coming home, and you could get used to that feeling.

“I don’t want this to end, I don’t want to go back to talking behind a screen and twiddling our thumbs, wondering when our communication is going to dwindle.” Hesh says, facing you now. “Look, I know this might sound forward,” Your chest tightens at the earnesty in his expression and his words. “But I want to make this work. Like, really work. Like I want you to be here, with me.” He runs his fingers through his short cropped hair and he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I want us to figure out a way to move you out here--whenever I’m stationed, wherever we need to be.”

You feel a surge of mixed emotions--fear, hope, relief? It’s enmeshing and turning in your stomach. It’s what you want to hear, but you’re terrified.

“David, I…I don’t know…” You croak out, feeling the tears cascade down your cheeks, but he shakes his head and wipes them away.

“You don’t have to decide right now, [name].” he reassures you, and you feel your throat tighten at how donnish he’s being. “I just want you to know I’m in this for the long haul. I’ve found the one,” He softly smiles. “And it’s you.”

And it’s like a freakin’ dam burst or something with the way you’re crying, but it’s tears of real relief. The idea of staying with him to build a life together, it’s not something you went as far as even imagining. Not until now.

“No bullshit, [name]. I’m not up for losing you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you profess, but your voice trembles with the heavy weight of your feelings. “But the thought of leaving everything behind…it’s a lot to take in, y’know?”

He nods. “I know it is,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “And I’m not asking you to do anything rash. I just want you to think about it. To know that I’m ready to make this work.” He squeezes your hand. “Just say the word.”

You let out a shaky exhale, and nod. “Okay.” You laugh a bit as he dabs away at your tears again. “I’ll think about it.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile as he kisses your wrist and then pulls you into a tight hug. The sound of the announcer calling your flight ripples through your little moment and reality sets in again. This time with hope. Hope that something real will flourish from this.

As you pull away and walk to the terminal together hand in hand, you pause to stand in front of him. He easily towers over you and you remember how he looked when he picked you up when you touched down. He cups your face and softly kisses your lips, letting go too soon to place a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Text me when you land.” He caresses your cheek and you nod with a small smile on your face. Your heart aches when he pulls away, his pinky lingers for a second before he lets go, but it’s filled with something new.

His eyes linger on you as you become smaller, boarding the plane and you turn around once more to find that he’s still watching you. His expression is a mix of longing and resoluteness. You wave, and he returns it with eyes full of silent promise.

As you finally step into the plane, you can’t help but wonder if this is really just the beginning of your new life.

masterlist

mini taglist: @milkteaarttime @keegansshark

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izumiphoenix · 2 months ago

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Ascension or Not?

(12/? part of “Astarion: In Search of True Self” — [masterpost here])

Trigger warning: Spawn route / Ascension reflection

The Rite of Profane Ascension is the culmination of The Pale Elf’s story - everything has been building toward this: the fear, the shame, the survival instincts, the longing to be seen, the need to finally break free. It’s the most dangerous moment for Astarion - the fork in the road that will change everything.

We’ve already talked about how much Astarion longs to be truly seen. That’s why it hurts so deeply when he isn’t. When Tav misreads him - sees only the seducer, the witty, wicked vampire spawn - it encourages him to stay inside that mask. And he will, because that’s how he survived for two hundred years. But if Tav reaches gently toward what’s underneath, if they speak to the heart of him… he starts to hope: “Could there really be another way?”

The desire to be seen for more than he was made to be is so strong in him that it feels like he is constantly unconsciously searching for it. Not just admired or desired but truly known - it is woven into everything he does. But the tragedy is, the version of himself that he crafted to survive - charming, flirtatious, in control - is so convincing that even he sometimes believes that’s all he has to be. No wonder many players assume Ascension is what Astarion really wants.

That’s why the ritual is so dangerous. It is the ultimate temptation that seemingly can make all his fears disappear, promising eternal power. But it doesn’t free him. It traps him even deeper. Because it is the culmination of Cazador's legacy that he taught him: that power is everything, that it gives you the right to take and abuse, that to be weak is to be worthless and hurt, that vulnerability is pathetic. There is no place for kindness or love in this world.

If Tav helps him to go through with the ritual, it might seem like they’re validating his choice. But what it tells him is: you, as you are - frightened, hurt, still healing but craving connection - are not enough. That the only version of him others can value is the cold, invulnerable one.

It confirms his worst fear, so he clings to it harder.

That’s why, for me, Ascension isn’t Astarion’s "true self." It’s his trauma self - the final mask locked in place by a diabolical ritual, that becomes his new self forever. It's not freedom - it’s losing. Losing to fear. Losing to Cazador’s values. Losing the hope that was beginning to bloom.

But if Tav sees past those layers of defences and stops him - gently, lovingly - it’s not about forcing him to be "good." It’s about saying: I see you. And you're enough, just as you are. You don't need this to be free, to be loved.

That’s why it’s so moving when Tav instead gently reminds him that there is another way, reflecting his humanity back to him. In that route, Astarion finally allows himself to believe he’s more than what Cazador made him: not because he takes power, but because he rejects it and breaks that cycle.

When Astarion walks away from the Rite, it’s not weakness. It’s the first step toward becoming someone he never thought he could be - not a tool, not a monster, not someone else's shadow, but someone who can start discovering his real self. It’s a newfound freedom that finally allows him to start living again.

I want to say something about the Ascended route, too. I haven’t played it myself, only read and watched some bits of it - and maybe I might talk about it more later. But I’ll share just this for now.

For me, Ascension is a very sad and lonely choice for Astaion. By that, he forever separates himself from everyone else, from any genuine connection he could have had with the rest of the world.

Yes, Ascended Astarion still “cares” about Tav - they are still important to him. Maybe the most important person in his world, because he is not likely to let anyone in anymore. But it's not the same - not without that warmth, not when he owns them now. He puts them in the position he once fought so desperately to escape - completely dependent on someone else’s power. He might still be kind. But they are not equals. And I can’t help but wonder how long that kindness would last.

Yes, he can walk in the sun. He can taste food, enjoy luxuries. But without healing, those things are hollow. How long until the joy of novelty wears off? Until the hunger for power inside grows stronger again, forever insatiable? Until it can't satisfy him anymore, and he turns toward the one who cannot leave or say no? Love is not control.

So, for me, persuading Astarion to give up that idea is not forcing him against his nature - it's reminding him of it. Tav cares about him and doesn't want him to corner himself in a choice he might regret later. It's not about moralizing or controlling his choices, but about wanting him to be happy in the long run. If Astarion had made a decision in anger or desperation, its result would have haunted him forever.

That’s why I don’t even like calling it the “Spawn ending.” To me, it’s simply Astarion’s ending. The one where he can finally become who he truly is. Himself.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion #ascended astarion critical #spawn astarion #astarion meta #bg3 meta

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tinytinyblogs · 1 year ago

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Monster

While others may perceive him as a monster, in your eyes, he is anything but.

(Mentioned self-loathing, stranger to lover, gender-neutral) 2,1K words

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest.

Ateez masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The world saw San as a stormy cloud, like a large creature in human form making loud noises. His uniqueness, deeply ingrained in him, was like a red mark on his soul. Instead of being curious, people were scared of him. He is a destroyer; everything he touches ends up broken or injured. His name was rarely spoken, like a forbidden sound in the normal places. He was naturally isolated, surrounded by whispers and avoided looks. Every time he tried to touch someone, it ended in disaster, leaving behind only pain. The laughter he wanted to hear was like a song in his dreams, unfamiliar in the regular world. His heart, wanting warmth, stayed in the cold shadow of being rejected. Every morning reminded him of his lonely existence, and every laugh mocked his silent cries. The world seemed to have created a lonely prison for him, and its key was made from a distorted view. As bitterness grew, San felt a change in the ground beneath him. Whispers turned into screams, and avoided looks turned into full-blown terror. He, who was pushed away, started pushing others away. His pain, fueled by the world's negativity, started fighting back, a desperate plea for acknowledgment and connection, even if it meant creating it through the fires of fear.

The monster in him believed that nobody on earth could be kind to him. His heart was like a closed garden with no space for the difficulties of human interaction. And then there was you—a spark in the lonely landscape of his life. Your eyes, without the usual flinch or disgust, seemed like windows to a world he thought he could never access. When you bent down to pick up his red scarf, a gift from a long-gone mother, your voice, a soothing touch to his troubled soul, broke the silence. "You dropped this," you whispered, the words carrying a melody he'd never heard before. Hesitantly, he reached for it, his eyes meeting yours once again. There was no sign of fear or disgust, just a gentle curiosity. Surely, you knew. You must have. Whispers followed him like crows, a dark group casting shadows on his soul. Yet, there you were, untouched by fear, offering a connection like a bridge across a deep gap. The red scarf, once a symbol of his isolation, now became a delicate lifeline—a glimmer of hope in the overwhelming darkness. Could it be? Could someone truly see beyond the scary exterior and catch a glimpse of the boy he might be? The question lingered in the air, a silent plea resonating between your gazes.

The monster in him, a twisted snake of fear and distrust, showed itself. You, with clear eyes and a kind voice, bravely peeked beneath the damaged mask he wore. A tiny bit of hope grew in his empty heart, but old hurts quickly killed it. He thought, maybe, your innocence was fake, and your kind look just a passing fancy. He couldn't let himself believe in such a cruel trick. The lonely street, covered in swirling snow, matched the emptiness inside him. The freezing cold got through his worn-out coat, but it was the isolating loneliness that really made him numb. Every gust of wind reminded him of his solitude, an unwanted friend in the quiet. Then, a bit of warmth broke through the darkness. A careful tap on his shoulder, a whisper in the icy air. Surprised, he turned to see you standing there, a steady light in the snowy darkness. Your closeness woke up his senses, but your gaze stayed calm, as pure as the first snow. Stuck in your eyes, a captive of your comforting presence, he felt drawn to a part of himself he hadn't explored before. This vulnerability, this dependence, made him feel uncomfortable yet strangely comforted, leaving him angry at himself.

The monster in him woke up, confused. You, offering kindness like he had never experienced. Your hesitant smile appeared as you pulled out a paper bag from under your coat, holding it like a precious ember against the winter cold. With a gentle push, you placed it in front of him, silently inviting him to share. San, cautious but curious, looked inside. In the bag, like a small sun warming the chilly air, was a bread shaped like a fish, its golden crust still carrying the warmth of the oven. Yet, it wasn't just the warmth of the bread that surprised him. As he cautiously broke off a piece and tasted it, a different kind of warmth spread through him, thawing the corners of his long-cold heart. The simple act, the unspoken understanding in your eyes, sparked a glimmer of hope he hadn't dared to nurture. He enjoyed the bread, each bite a small rebellion against the loneliness he had worn like a second skin. The taste – sweet, yeasty, with a hint of the sea – turned into a connection, a song playing just for him. In that moment, the scary part loosened its grip on him, and a crack appeared in the icy fortress he had built around himself. It's cozy, but it's not because of that fish-shaped bread – it's because of you.

The monster in him roared, a basic clash against something he didn't know. You, a guiding light in the chaotic landscape of his life, showed a kindness so real, so different from the harsh treatment he was used to, that it stirred up his very soul. Was this warmth you were giving real, or just another cruel illusion in the emptiness of his existence? Doubt and questions messed with his mind like hungry rats. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the cautious stares of the people around, fear evident as they moved away from the monster they thought he was. But in the midst of his contemplation, a glimmer of hope appeared. It was the image of you, stepping out of the store like sunshine breaking through heavy clouds. He braced himself for the expected – your eyes turning away, quickly passing him, silently confirming his outsider status. However, you looked into his eyes, and everything around him paused. A smile, a real and bright smile, spread across your face, like a flower blooming in the desolation of his lonely world. He stood still, unable to believe it. Never before in his memories had he seen such a sight.

The monster in him backed away, like a quiet puppy retreating after a surprising encounter. He couldn't believe what was happening. You, like an angel in a world full of troubles, were walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. The whispers from the people around, like a mean song, stopped when you showed up, and their fear faded away in the face of your constant kindness. He stood still, stuck in the whirlwind of you coming closer. The city sounds turned into a dull noise, and all he could focus on was you. When you stopped, like a heavenly being in the busy marketplace, the air was filled with unspoken questions. Your hand, like an offering from another world, held a simple candy, a symbol of something much bigger. "Do you want some?" your voice, a melody he never thought he'd hear, floated in the air. His world, full of shadows, couldn't possibly fit someone like you. He was the scary one people talked about in quiet voices, the one kids hid from, the one fear kept away. But there you were, a real embodiment of hope, offering him a sweet treat dipped in kindness. It's sweet, but it's not because of the candy – it's because of you.

The monster in him once like a growling storm cloud, had now become a quiet shadow. However, doubt still stuck around, like a fog hanging onto the edges of his thoughts. Was it real, the warmth and kindness you shared, like a sprinkle of care on his lonely life? He really wanted it – the feeling of sunlight, a sense of belonging. He wanted to believe in you, in the chance you brought, like a fragile bridge connecting his solitude to the rest of the world. So, he began to notice you everywhere. Not actually everywhere, but in sounds like your laughter or in the sunlight like your smile. He took a risk and started talking to you, cautiously at first, like opening a rusty lock, scared that it might make noise. But with each moment he stole with you, each word he shared, the rust started to loosen, and the door to his heart opened a bit wider. Listening to your voice, the stories you told with laughter and vulnerability, made him feel alive again. He wasn't just the scary one people talked about in quiet voices, the shadowy thing. You saw him, really saw him, not with fear but with a kind curiosity that melted the frost around his heart. And in return, he found the forgotten joy of smiles hiding in the corners of his own lips.

The monster in him started moving, a dark feeling of fear twisting in his stomach. The idea of you, the light he wanted the most, turning away and leaving him in never-ending darkness - it was a terror too deep to describe. The silence between you felt like a big gap he really wanted to fill, but he didn't know how. He couldn't take the heavy quiet, so he spoke up, his voice rough with hidden pain. "I'm a monster," he said, the words feeling like a sharp blade cutting through his throat. Your reply, simple but deep, hung in the air, like a rope thrown across the gap. "No, you're not," you said, your voice filled with gentle confidence. He raised his voice, saying, "I am," his eyes teary, letting out emotions he had kept inside for a long time. "I've always been different; people always avoid me. I destroy everything; I hurt people. Are you still pretending you don't know?" he exclaimed, without a hint of a smile, while you sat next to him, watching his inner struggle. "I don't care," you answered calmly. This wasn't news to you; warnings about him had reached you when you first came to town, but you never let those warnings change your view. After expressing your lack of concern, he went quiet, stood up from the bench, and started walking away. "San," you called after him, and he stopped without turning to look at you. "You've never been a monster in my eyes," you reassured him.

It was the monster within him, wanting you like a dry desert wants rain. Even though he tried to keep away, staying alone, your image stayed in his mind like a ghost that wouldn't leave. So, the scary part gave in, leading him to your door without a plan. With hesitation, his hand touched your door, knocking gently. You answered right away, warm and welcoming. There you were, looking beautiful in your soft clothes, a smile on your face like a sunrise. Without saying anything, you moved aside, inviting him in without words. In that moment, under your kind eyes, the scary part inside him did more than want – it felt a strong desire for you. He stepped inside, like a hesitant traveler entering a special place. Your scent, familiar and comforting, wrapped around him like a gentle hug. The scary part, so used to darkness, blinked in the soft light of your presence. You guided him in, offering not judgment but a safe place. And the scary part, for the first time ever, felt a bit of hope, a chance for redemption, just because you let him in. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you," he whispered, and you replied with a soft sound. "No need to apologize, San. Not at all."

And suddenly, the monster in him fall silent as he rest his head on your lap. his head nestled in your lap, a haven of warmth and comfort. Your fingers combed through his hair, each touch a silent symphony of tenderness. He inhaled the scent of you, a balm to his troubled soul. "Can I stay like this?" he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. "Can I keep feeling this… this sunlit warmth from you? Can I just be with you… always?" His hand found yours, resting it gently on your knee, anchoring him to this precious moment. He yearned to bottle it, to preserve it against the inevitable tides of time. "I don't need anyone else," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Only you." A soft smile curved your lips. "Then stay," you breathed, pulling him closer. "Stay here with me, san. You're safe here." In your eyes, he saw not a monster, but a reflection of the man he could be. You treated him with respect, with an understanding that pierced through the layers of darkness he'd worn for so long. And perhaps, under your gentle touch, the beast within him was finally learning to recede, replaced by the flicker of a hopeful future. The monster in him has vanished as he found his home, it's no more.

©Tinytinyblogs

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ohthethingswedoforlove · 10 months ago

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Could you possibly do something with yandere Dalv please?

Of course! Ah, Dalv, surely all that time in isolation did not leave an impact on you and your perception of friendship, right?

Warnings: yandere character; stalking; imprisonment;

For as much as he tries to convince himself that he's better off hiding away in the deepest parts of the Ruins, Dalv is someone who misses companionship dearly.

It doesn't matter if you're a monster living the upper parts of the Ruins or a human who has fallen down, when you accidently crash your way into the lower levels with no way back up, he's bound to find you.

This place is his home, and while some other monsters have decided to stick around as well, he still manages to stay the lonely master of this place.

At first, he avoids you. Any sighting of you has him pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and moving in the opposite direction back into the dark, no matter if you've been trying to follow him around hoping he could help you or if you are still oblivious to his existence.

Eventually, he sees that you're no real threat. Curiosity pulling at his interest, even as a part of him still keeps telling him that he should just go away and leave you be. He wants to be left alone. Then why does he keep following you around?

But you start to leave quite the positive impact down here, all the few other residents taking a liking to you, even Decibat only has positive things to say. And your friendliness leaves him hoping that maybe... Maybe his time feeling desolate down here could come to an end?

When he finally approaches you with a nervousness still clinging to him, he's still beating himself over that this is a bad idea. But when you tell him that you'll be his friend, a warmth he spent so long forgetting comes back to him.

Is this real? Are you real? It's been so long since he had any sort of connection, specially with someone who came from outside these walls.

Maybe it would be nice to have some company again.

Without any help from the outside, you're basically dependent on Dalv's word to be able to leave. But... You don't need to know that yet, right?

Instead of removing the wooden barricade keeping you from the outside of the Ruins, he apologises and tells he doesn't have a way out through his house, not even letting you see it. It was blocked off long ago... Yeah, it's a shame... Don't worry, though! He'll find another way, he swears! He'll help you. That's what friends are for!

So please, stay a little longer?

If you don't question it too much and let him "help", days will start to go by. You get to stay at his house, read through his stories, eventually grow tired of eating only corn or whatever other concoction he manages to make, and explore the Ruins alongside him for any hidden puzzle or fragile wall that could give away to the outside. But you'll never find it.

He feels bad about it, he really does. But he doesn't want to be left alone again. And the outside... Well, isn't it better to stay here? Isn't it safer?

So until you decide to confront him, this will continue. He never realised how much he missed having a friend.

#tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere dalv #yandere dalv x reader #yandere undertale yellow #yandere undertale yellow x reader #tw stalking #tw imprisonment

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mistressarcane13 · 1 year ago

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The Development of Durgetash

Sorry this is really long but the implications of Durge and Gortash's relationship are just too fun not to think or write about.

I think an important thing to understand about Enver and Durge’s relationship and the way in which it would develop, is that they are both inherently lonely people. One killed any person who gave them warmth and love (whether they had any real say in the matter or not), and the other was someone who as been abandoned and betrayed repeatedly by people they trusted. Either way, Durge has only been able to experience the warmth of another through violence, and Enver has only ever been able to put trust in things of metal and gears.

They could not make a real human connection, and as sad as it is at the very least the Durge had a family who had once cared about them, however, Bhaal made it very clear that they would never have that all outside of what he could offer, and if they were to search for it outside of Bhaal or even stumble upon it, all it could ever end in is blood. Enver on the other hand had no foundation of trust with anyone from the beginning, his parents sold him. Then the entry of his youth was spent being abused, beat into submission. Where his developing mind could only ever come to one conclusion, you are only safe at the top, only safe when you are the person who can hand out all of the damage. While it doesn’t excuse anything either of them did, it does give you a way as to how they can internally justify all of their horrible actions.

But then apply all that to how the beginning of their partnership began, both probably intending to manipulate and betray each other at some point, at least in the very beginning. Then what is probably the most terrifying thing happens to both of them, they realize they care. Dare I say I think it takes them both a long time to realize this, both desperately telling themselves that “this was just a part of the plan” in an attempt to distract what has happened.

The one thing I am sure they had both promised themselves they would never do again. I do think Enver had an easier time coming to terms with this, especially after Bane also seems to take a liking to Durge. But there was most likely some catalase in which Durge had an amazing opportunity to kill or betray Enver and yet stubbornly stays by his side. However, Durge lives in constant terror. When will the urge take control, when will Bhaal demand Gortash’s head as a sacrifice? Why does every thought they have that lingers a little too long on Enver turn into a design of his death, and why has this begun to bug them. They had thought they had finally desensitized themselves to this, and yet here they were with this weight in their heart that made it hard to breathe. They haven’t experienced terror like this since the urges first started. And I think, unlike Enver, this fear never goes away. It’s obvious because of the letter but I think they learn how to manage it.

Once they get past that, this is where their friendship really blooms. Two evil nerds, geeking out all the time. Gortash can go on for hours, days, months about his inventions, and there is Durge who hasn’t had a conversation verging this close to normal in so long that they just sit there, happy. Asking questions, and seeing how smart Durge is canon-wise, most likely offer suggestions and theorizing how certain mechanics work. Then there is Durge who has had to turn violence into a craft for survival and likely some form of sanity. Who can probably go on for just as long about anatomy, decay, how every weapon, acid, fire, and anything of the like affects the flesh.

Then somewhere along the line, where they worked together out of convenience, they are now the other persons go to for anything. They are asking each other for advice in contexts where it doesn’t necessarily make sense. And there scheming turns into just conversations of the future. They don’t even notice how casual they have gotten with one another until I’m sure Orin or Sceletius points it out to Durge.

If we apply all this to Durgtash, it does make their prospective relationship the most grueling slowburn anyone as ever seen, in theory.

I don’t think either of them notice at first their feeling for one another. I think they are both pretty emotionally constipated. However, I think Gortash realizes first, I think he distrusts not only everyone around him but also his own feelings to realize something is off. Where as Durge (this I guess depends on how you characterize your own personal durge, but for now I’m talking about og and my own Durge.) I believe has numbed themselves so emotionally it is not going to hit them. Or at least not until Enver suggests something stupid and they fight. Durge has a knife to Enver’s throat (which I don’t imagine is a rare event) and for once they aren’t immediately consumed of thoughts of spilling his blood right there. No, the knife is there to stop Enver from doing something stupid, because Durge is WORRIED. The realization hits like a brick, and Durge in way out of character backs off and leaves. Hoping to stuff the realization back in the box where it could be stored in the back of their mind, but it’s too late. Now all they can think about is how Bhaal will torture them both by having them kill Enver.

This obviously leads to tension, so much tension, that neither of them will address or acknowledge. Both are worried about offending their gods, and at the end of the day, this is the first person either of them have been able to truly care about in who knows how long. Not only could they ruin that, but also the plan that they have been working away at for presumably years now.

I think it only builds of course, the closer they get the more small touches they exchange. Never too close though, never too many. Just enough for minds to slip to other places, only for a second. Though they would never actually… right? They get drunk together just to have a reason, have an excuse for certain behaviors, never taking it too far but minds always wonder.

I honestly don’t think anything would happen for a long while, not until some catalyst. Whether it be a bad injury or a victory, adrenaline takes over, and they kiss. Heat of the moment they will tell themselves and each other. However, the Pandora's box is open now. I think it still takes them a moment to break, anywhere from a day to a week, both too horribly stubborn for their own good. Until the conversation lulls to a stop, and the tension alone at this point would turn anyone mad, and the delusions they have been trying to sell themselves finally snap. No one knows who kissed the other first, who first started ripping at clothes, at this point who cares. It is a passion with teeth and claws, there is blood on their teeth and under their nails. In that moment all their sins mix, gluttony, greed, pride, and lust as they almost try to consume one another, like they are trying to meddle together. As if metal and flesh could ever truly mix.

And I think for a time after, these two horrible messed up people find peace in one another, maybe even true happiness as their plans come to fruition. Enver Gortash, a man who breathed life into metal gave it a heart, and Durge, the person who left cold bodies in their wake by taking last breaths and heartbeats.

They were going to rule the world together, and then Orin happened.

#enver gortash #durgetash #bg3 durge #bg3 gortash

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madamejadex · 1 month ago

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Hi Miss Jade ❤️

I have kind of a weird ramble, but I'm hoping you might have some insight to my situation. I love your blog, and this feels like a safe space to voice this

I semi-dated a boy my senior year of high school (I say semi-dated because we were never boyfriend/girlfriend), but I ended things and I've found it really hard to move on from that period of time. And it sorta seems like we were forced together, mostly by his mother. (And don't worry, nothing concerning happened and he was very respectful of my boundaries)

I know this is a sapphic blog, and I'm questioning that I might be bisexual, but I'm not in a super safe space to explore that side of myself, and it's very frowned upon in my community to be anything but cis and straight.

I've struggled with the idea of even dating anyone since him, and I'm starting to wonder if that could relate to my questioning of my sexuality or if there's just something inherently wrong with me that makes me unattractive. I know I'm not the prettiest, and I'm on the heavier side of the spectrum, but it would be nice to be chosen, even just once.

I'm never approached by anyone, and no one ever asks for my number. I know that road goes both ways, both male and female, but it's so hard to be surrounded by friends who are in these seemingly happy relationships while I just sit on the sidelines.

Anyways, sorry for the ramble, and thank you for responding if you do, and it's not a problem if you don't. ❤️

She/Her. I'm 19, and could I have the 🌅 emoji?

Hi, darling one.

Mmm, I know… understanding our sexuality isn’t always a clear or simple journey. It can be messy, layered, and more emotional than we sometimes expect. And I blame much of that on the world we live in, because here we are, in 2025, and people are still being made to feel uncertain, ashamed, or unseen for simply wanting to love who they love. It’s heartbreaking, really, that something as natural and beautiful as connection should be tainted by fear or outside judgment.

So if you’re feeling a little lost or unsure about where you stand, whether you're bisexual, demisexual, pansexual, lesbian, asexual, or somewhere in between, I want you to know there’s no rush to define yourself. You don’t have to pick a label. And if you do choose one someday, it’s yours to hold gently, not something to use as a chain around your neck.

I didn’t settle into a label for a long time, not because I was confused, but because I hated the idea that I needed to categorize something so deeply human. So take your time, sweetheart. There’s no test to pass here, no gate to unlock. Just your heart, learning to listen to itself.

Now, as for how you see yourself, I want to remind you, gently but firmly, that we all carry insecurities. Even the most confident-looking person has whispered to themselves late at night, wondering what makes them unlovable. I’ve done it too. We’re often our own harshest critics, convinced that something about us is the reason we’re still searching.

But oh, darling… love doesn’t work that way.

In my life, I’ve fallen for people in the most unexpected ways, through a laugh, a glance, a spark. Someone stumbling over their words. The warmth of their voice. The way they shared something so small and made it feel like a gift. And many of the most meaningful relationships I’ve had started not with fireworks, but with friendship. Or a dynamic. Or simply mutual curiosity. It’s never the way we plan it.

So don’t shut the door on possibility. Be open to connection, even if it doesn’t look romantic at first. Sometimes the most enduring love begins with “I like being around you.”

And no, I won’t pretend it’s always easy. There will be lonely days. There will be moments where the longing feels like it fills the whole room. But please, try not to let that ache convince you that you’re unworthy. Because when we believe we’re unlovable, we often begin to project that belief onto the people around us. And I want more for you than that, sweet one. So much more.

So please keep your heart open. Be curious, be soft, and above all, be patient with yourself. There’s nothing wrong with where you are right now. And if you ever need warmth, a moment of reassurance, or just a safe place to land… you know where to find me. My arms may be virtual, but the care is very real. 🤍

xo, Miss Jade

#🌅 anon

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phxntomhives · 1 year ago

Text

"The parade of battlers" analysis

SINCE NO ONE IS DOING THIS??? WHY??? I WILL DO IT

Hopefully my wrong takes will trigger someone and you all will get a decent analysis

Eng lyrics because I don't know japanese are from the official music video! Also warning, English isn't my mother tongue.

Lost in an unacceptable tragedy

An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes

Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and

Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back

Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit

All I want to do is lead a beautiful life

But why can't you hear

Me telling you not to stumble

Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle

Say bye bye to mundane concepts

See how the compensated formless stand imposingly

Their presence is a sight to behold

Rip apart, drag and reveal

Throw away all inferiorities

Even the raw emotions of cursing someone

Take them in like an offering

Just skilled at pretending to be human

Searching for those other than monsters

Like the blue shimmer of

A star of the first magnitude

Far from having enough faith

This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat

Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots

Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now

Everything in this world, there isn't much

Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections

To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld

Though we have prayed and knelt down

Our prayers have been cremated

And ignored with a "So what?"

So kind

A colorless encounter, pupils of glass

Thought they may shatter to pieces,

You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"

You give the finger as you spew poison and let it all out

Scorched, boiling and trembling

A blazing fire from the past still smolders

That remorse still within me

I'll burn and retaliate in full

There is no such thing as eternity, so

There is no ending until all turns to ash

Then why not play

With fire in a refined manner?

No more need for empty rhetorics

Such hollow, scathing criticism

Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing

The parade of the lonely ones has just begun

There's no love, no love, there's no love there

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth

There's just one, just one

In this world, just one person, one person

Question fanatically and

Live the shit out of this world

ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS BITCH IS LONG

ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA!!!

Yana, dear, are you sure this is the intro for the Weston college arc??? And not the blue cult??? LIKE, REALLY REALLY SURE??? My comprehension of text can be lacking in more than one way and I just followed the vibe but... I don't think I am that wrong on some points? You are seeing it too, right?

I feel like the song has a mix of present, past and future along with different POVs and I hope I have been able to separate them well.

The colors are just to show the lyrics and i changed it because pretty.

What I can actually connect to Weston Arc

"Then why not play with fire in a refined manner? / No more need for empty rhetorics Such hollow, scathing criticism. / Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing" Which could very much be related to O!Ciel's pyromaniac episode lol. He didn't forget

"The parade of the lonely ones has just begun" : at this point the "parade of the lonely" could very much be the parade of the bizzare dolls considering the amount of reference there is to them. And it would be nice considering in this case the sentence is right after the stone-throwing Purple house, since the students were "transfered" in the there.

If the previous point is correct then also here, we are talking of the bizzare dolls: "This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat / Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots / Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now". I guess the "echo of the marching boots" could be the sound the dolls made before getting free during the midnight tea party? As for why they don't retreat well, we have seen they aren't exactly rational for now.

"Scorched, boiling and trembling / A blazing fire from the past still smolders / That remorse still within me /I'll burn and retaliate in full": this could be a description of what O!Ciel is feeling in general. His determination coming from everything that happened is still going strong.

Onestly, these are the only thing I can see strictly related to the present and this arc in particular lol. Everything else goes deeper.

Memories of the past

This part will likely make the least sense, because I am still sobbing over the whole past ok.

"Lost in an unacceptable tragedy Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back": We all know the past. The safest bet is that O!Ciel is mourning, but is he? He never had the time to mourn, he moved immediately to revenge and working for the queen. So either this is just to hit us in the feeling, or maybe it's my favourite victim of this analysis: Undertaker. Could it be him? Possibly, but this being O!Ciel breaks my heart more. I am excluing R!Ciel because at the moment of Weston arc his version should not be that complex. And Sebastian is Sebastian.

"Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit /All I want to do is lead a beautiful life / But why can't you hear / Me telling you not to stumble": I feel like this either O!Ciel talking to himself, admitting that he would like to just be happy but still forcing himself to be strong and act to revenge his family. Or, high on copium, the first part is O!Ciel's wishes and the second part is O!CIel using the R!Ciel allucination make himself stronger (I doubt it, but it adds to the sadness).

"Rip apart, drag and reveal / Throw away all inferiorities /Even the raw emotions of cursing someone /Take them in like an offering": I got the epiphany after several times of reading this and yes it's about revenge hatred yadda yadda yadda. But what if, in particular, it's related to the moment when O!Ciel summoned Sebastian? I think it's the only time I remember "offering" being mentioned/relevant in the manga. O!Ciel is throwing everything away for revenge, assuming a new identity. So this could be either O!Ciel talking to himself during that desperate time. Or, just to hurt myself more, him allucinating again a conversation with R!Ciel where R!Ciel is the one that is saying all this. I will go cry now, brb.

"Everything in this world, there isn't much /Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think / Though we have prayed and knelt down / Our prayers have been cremated /And ignored with a "So what?" " : God, this section is killing me. Memories of when the twins were captured, For them and all the other children, it was an atrocious experience, while the nobles were truly thinking they were in the right, that there was nothing wrong in what they were doing. They believed to be noble enough to be above everything and ignored absolutely everything in regards to the children.

Undertarker is not being subtle. Like at all.

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections/To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld: here I am conflicted. Undertaker is sure making selections when he is creating the bizzare dolls "you get to be revived. you don't". But at the same time he is not uphelding anything. He is doing the opposite infact. Unless this is supposed to just describe the Shinigami's role to show how Undertaker is going in the opposite direction.

There's just one, just one/In this world, just one person, one person/Question fanatically and/Live the shit out of this world: we only really see two characters question stuff: O!Ciel with the murder of his family and Undertaker with the Cinematic record ways of working. Now, i don't really see O!Ciel "question fanatically" and "live the shit out of this world", while we can debate about how "fanatically" he is searching for the culprits, how are you telling me he is living his best life? He is surronded by trauma, has to go on a mission for the queen every other day, has to live as his dead twin and in this specific arc he has to act all cutesy and adorable when he hates it. He is far from any best life I am more surprised he didn't become histerical yet honestly. The one that IS living his best life is Undertaker (well... more or less). In the Weston Arc he did say he was enjoying being the headmaster. Plus he could make some more esperiments on Derek&co which, on top of that, were mostly successful! Do you know how much serotonin a succesful experiment gives you? A LOT. TRUST ME.

Bizzare Dolls (BD for short because I am lazy)

Well, ofc they are the protagonist of the animation, they are everywhere in the song too.

"An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes / Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and": Are the BD warm? Idk, but I don't think so? A body is warm when the blood is running because the heart is pumping it. Do BD have a working heart tho? I doubt the original version do, but what about the new and improved versions? Agares could have probably be our best bet but he always wore gloves (even when he was alive) so we don't really know.

Warmth aside, what I am quite confident IS a reference to the BD is the keloid scars. I did a reseach and a keloid scar is a "scar keeps growing and becomes bigger than the original wound. They are developed after a skin injury". The scars we have seen are O!Ciel's scar from when they marked him, or the BD's "surgery" scars?

Ofc it could be just metaphorical about the trauma just keep on growing in O!Ciel. Maybe it's more this one but again, I am take things directly

"Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle/Say bye bye to mundane concepts/See how the compensated formless stand imposingly/Their presence is a sight to behold": cambridge dictionary say that "turn something on its head means to cause something to be the opposite of what it was before". Apparently, there are many things that are the opposite of love, depending on your source: hatred, fear, indifference. I think in this case, since we are talking of the BD, we can use indifference. They aren't moved by real emotions at this moment (Weston arc) and even later, they are probably fake emotions based on fake memories (from the orphanage children but I will not elaborate, other theories have done it better). Fear could also work since well, most people are rightfully terrified of them. Being far away from mundane concepts? I would say they fill this box. And they sure are a sight to behold, nothing against it. What confuses me is the "compensated formless" I don't have any idea of what it could mean

"Just skilled at pretending to be human / Searching for those other than monsters + Like the blue shimmer of / A star of the first magnitude / Far from having enough faith": We are looking at the current arcs here in the first lines. The one skilled at pretending to be human and searching for things is Sebastian (it can't be O!Ciel because he isn't pretending to be human). What he is searching is the headmaster, that we know being Undertaker and it ends up bringing with him, again, the BD. In particular, it specifically mentions R!Ciel. You know what is the name of the biggest star of first magnitude that is currently known? Yeah, you are correct, it's Sirius. And we have known Ciel is Sirius for a while now. As to why the star does not have lot's of faith, do I have to remind you "Dear God, why are you smiling?".

"So kind /A colorless encounter, pupils of glass /Thought they may shatter to pieces,/ You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"": Listen, I have seen a couple of people mentioning "oh it's a reference to monochrome no kiss". But I don't think that's the case, not completely at least. I think this is a parallel of O!Ciel and Sebastian's meeting to R!Ciel and Undertaker. First because one of the people involved is laughing, and Sebastian smirks but has never really laughed out loud, the one that spends his time laughing is Undertaker. Second is the pupils of glass that can shatter to pieces. I wonder if it means that R!Ciel could be using glass balls for his eyes? When we have seen his not-completed form they look pretty empty and they are made of soft tissue, so maybe Undertaker changed the "real eyes" with glass? Idk. The shattering could also indicate the fragility of the BD that are still far from perfect.

There is no such thing as eternity, so /There is no ending until all turns to ash this made me scream Undertaker's BD because we know he needs a full budy for the creation of his dolls and bringing back to life his loved ones. And we know he can't bring back Vincent because his body was too ruined by the fire. So fire IS the only ending in which a person can just die with no possible interference from a Shinigami with resurrection intent.

Tragedy twins

I had no idea of these lines other than, it just fits the vibes. Until I remembered how much Yana likes to mirror the twins.

There's no love, no love, there's no love there: this one is R!Ciel singing. Undertaker may have started to work on the BD out of grief for his loved ones, but it feels like it turned into an obsession.

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth: let's add some angst because this one was not enough. O!Ciel never gets to discover the truth behind the murder of his family before he dies. Maybe we, as readers, can see it. Maybe from Sebastian's eyes. But yeah, we don't have a guarantee that O!Ciel will ever know anything, he could just die with Sebastian being unable to prevent it (either because it happened due to a Shinigami, or maybe an angel or god knows what).

But of course, we can also swap them! O!Ciel was so confident people wouldn't have liked him coming back alive and so started the whole identity swap, so he could still feel like the love he is receiving now is fake, since it's built on a lie. While R!Ciel's truth could now be either the murder or the family again, or the fact that he isn't "real" now. He is a BD, his action and thoughts are based on memories that are likely not his own. He has become a fake, a lie. "There is no truth" because that is a BD similar to him, and not necessary him.

I am exhausted I haven't thought about something this much since my thesis. Yes some of them are quite the stretch, hopefully I will trigger a smart person and finally we get a good analysis. Meanwhile you have to deal with me. Feel free to add your opinions pls, I love hearing theories.

PSA: I have formatted this half on computer and half of phone so idk how weird the formatting is I will check again tomorrow, now I'm tired of rereading it.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji theory #kuroshitsuji theories #ciel phantomhive #I'm tired #I put my soul here #I'm exhausted #But it was fun

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hwnglx · 10 months ago

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hi, would san from ateez be okay with ldr? thank you

haven't read for him in a good minute, but i remember liking his energy.

9oc, 5osw, 5ocrx, lo, knoc, paosw, quoc

hm, see for san it's difficult, because if they're the person of his dreams, like all he's ever wanted, he wouldn't let long distance stand in the way of their love. he's such a passionate boyfriend (to an extent delusionally in love) he wouldn't wanna allow physical distance to be an obstacle.

however, he can also get obsessed with his lovers. like i'm talking, you're all that i see, you're all that i wanna see, let's not care about anyone else and forget about them, you're the only one i want around. he seems to be someone who actively seeks and is in need of human connection, and can often find himself searching for someone to attach himself to, because he can feel lonely by himself. the most precious existence in his life (his love) not being next to him could cause a certain emptiness, and a lack of emotional connection he craves so much. he wants to have quality time in intimate settings, deep late night talks, look them in their eyes and feel their emotion directly. there's a different sort of warmth that comes with someone's presence, that's something he'd miss.

he's someone who really values communicating with his partners. he likes building this emotional and intense bond through sharing their worries and thoughts with each other. he wants to zone in on them, literally have tunnel vision and openly showcase his obsession, but also loves the thought of his partner being equally as passionate. long distance would make him worry and trigger his overthinking. he'd overanalyze their texts, or tone of voice through the phone. stare at his phone for hours waiting for their message. his lover being far away could trigger san's trust issues.

so in conclusion, san isn't very fond of the idea, but if he's head over heels in love, long distance wouldn't make him wanna give up on them. he'd probably have you flown in all the time, or find some sort of way to have you with him no matter the risks. he just wants you next to him, period.

#answered asks #kpop tarot #phew this man is emotional!#the amount of cups i was startled

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madaramikejimajuicyfatass · 9 months ago

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i think madara gets really desperate for any skin on skin contact with his partner ... its mentioned in a lot of the madara fics ive read no matter whats going on with the plot or the dynamics and its kinda stuck in my head a little. he neeeds to be touching them it doesnt matter if theyre just walking around or one of them is actively inside the other, he needs his hands all over their skin, he needs to be rubbing his face into the crook of their neck like some sort of lovesick cat, he needs to feel them touching his hair (whether that be tugging it or petting it), he needs to feel them cupping his face, he needs to feel their warmth against his body, he needs to feel their beating heart, he needs to feel their chest rise and fall with each breath they take, he neeeds to touch and be touched so bad it kills him not to. hes kinda deprived himself of real human connections for so long that the moment he loves someone he clings to them like a lifeline

funnily enough writing this out reminds me a little bit about how newborn babies need skin to skin with their mama

Honestly this ask haunts me like a lover from a past (aka I love this ask so much and had a lot of thoughts about it hence why it took a bit for me to reply).

I mean, yeah, it make sense for him. Madara didn't get that normaly familiar touch, he didn't get that family life. I think it's kinda obvious that he, when faced with what familiar/platonic/romantic relationships, he falls back on what is easier to really comprehend: touch. Gentle touch, a need to be held and surround himself in. It's easier to show affection through touch, words aren't needed, not when you're as emotional congested as him and refused to voice any affections (because voicing it makes it real).

And yes! He's touch starved, and generally a lonely guy—first to run away, unsure of his own place on someone's life. Having that connection, secure, and having someone pry him open and make him feel safe—of course he's going to cling. Afterall, underneath everything, he's still that broken little kid just trying to play pretend.

#also me not somewhat projecting madara with bpd #anon #not really thirst so #asks #madara thinking times #i dont think i put my whole thoughts because anon already said what i was mostly thinking #ily anon #this is my favourite asks

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livingincolorsagain · 2 years ago

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hey babe! my coffee boiled over just so I could send you this so you better answer

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

Oh damn. I’m gonna answer anyway, but damn.

from this list

🤲 for me, writing is a way to express myself, because I’m not really much of a talker. I do often project on my characters, but not so much they’re not themselves anymore. Anytime I find a connection between a character I like and myself, I latch onto it, because chance is it’s not talked about enough in canon, and I like to highlight those little things that make theses little fictional characters more human.

☯️ this is a loaded question. There are many benefits to being a part of something, and having friends who share the same passion and interests. For a long time, I was a writer without any social media, and no friends to talk to, and let me tell you, you don’t realize how lonely it is until you start talking to someone. Also, having friends helps a lot with creatively. I made this blog in late 2020, and I’ve been writing way more since then.

On the flip side, the more you engage with the fandom, the more you’ll see things you’re better off not seeing. Fandoms aren’t always a safe, happy place. Sometimes people like to pretend they exist in a vacuum, like their words and actions hold no weight. They’re so comfortable with being vile and ignorant and hateful and racist, then when they’re called out they’re like, ‘well, there’s no way for me to know better’, which is bullshit and we all know it.

It’s extremely frustrating and tiring, and once you open yourself up to the whole experience, it’s almost impossible to not see this shit, or get affected by all of it.

So, does it create a healthy experience? Not exactly. You have to find the balance and choose the best options for yourself. Blocking is a great option, and I’m not afraid to use it.

💥well, I already put my least kudos’d fic here, so here’s my second least kudos’d fic!

The Chance of You

It’s a bright winter morning, with clear skies and a gentle breeze, the sun a welcome kiss of warmth on Bucky’s cold cheeks, when they meet for the first time.

Personally, I think this is one of my prettiest fics. I absolutely love the atmosphere of it, and how it left a lot of people wanting a sequel.

#thanks for the ask baby 💖💖💖#ask game #saryasy #sambucky

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 months ago

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Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 51

Dorian awoke in a cloud of eternal bliss.

Sitting at the Maker's side should feel like this, he decided. So perhaps he was dead.

But who was he kidding? Someone like him would be doomed to wander the void forever. Mother Giselle insisted and she knew more about this than he did.

Breathing deeply, he felt his lungs fill with air, over and over again, satisfyingly so. So he still had a body.

Peculiar, to feel his body just for something so pleasant. Usually, it was the aches that made him remember. A strained muscle, a bruised bone, the headaches after long tavern nights. Or simply the misery of being alive. Now this was just air. And a light, tingly feeling.

His limbs only slowly woke up, as if they didn't see the point when they weren't sore. He felt another body by his side. The slight pressure of a head resting on his chest. And an arm embracing him. The cause of his bliss. In his experience, the other body shouldn't be here.

Ah, here they came. The doubts. His mind awoke, starting the usual routine of torturing him. Now, he really knew he was alive.

He tried to sink back into the cloud. The other man's heartbeat against his own should've been enough to cradle him back to sleep. Alas, his mind was louder.

He vaguely remembered how they got here. For some unfathomable reason, the man of his darkest desires had begun to kiss him mindless. He had played with him for a while in the library, whereas 'a while' could include an hour or a century, and then brought him here, right into his lair. Where he consumed him, most likely. The memories became blurry here. All Dorian remembered were their lips and tongues clashing in an eternal dance.

Oddly enough, they were still wearing their clothes.

Who fell asleep in their clothes like that? Did they dress up afterwards or...did it never happen? His mind was happily imagining scenarios. Was it something he did? The last time, there had been no restraint.

Oh, wait. The last time had been an accident. And Solas had been shocked, judging by his behaviour afterwards and the shy explanation he had given him much later. So this... Was this really what Solas wanted? The Breach was closed, however, various rifts still existed, along with his superior connection to the fade. For Solas, he must be irresistible.

Dorian noticed he had lifted his head to get a better view of the other man. His neck protested against the uncomfortable position he had maintained for so long. Ah, there were the aches. Beat into submission, he let his head sink back on the pillow.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed a little, but the cloud was gone for good. He was exhausted from thinking and waited for the inevitable. Solas usually woke up early. This moment couldn't last much longer.

Dorian enjoyed the sensation of his body nestled against him, attempting to engrave it into his brain. The warmth, the soothing rhythm of his breath, his arm around him as if he was a treasure to be kept. With nobody jumping at him and pulling him out of the bed by the ear, he even managed to doze off again.

He woke up when he felt Solas move. Expecting the outburst, he stared at the ceiling. Yet none came. This ridiculous elf just wrapped himself tighter around him and slumbered on.

For no particular reason, Dorian became possessed by the urge to kiss Solas. The elf had simply earned this by cuddling so peacefully. But he was sleeping, his soft lips unreachable.

Dorian realized he didn't have to kiss his lips, though.

Carefully, he moved to look at the head resting on his chest. It was right there. What if he covered that with kisses? Perhaps it was a bit unconventional for two men that accidentally ended up cuddling in bed together. Although what would even be conventional in this situation? He could blame the fade. Solas would understand.

With his half made-up mind, he gently brushed his lips against the elf's head. The feeling pleased him. He went on with every spot he could reach.

Solas sucked in a breath when he awoke. He had been pulled out of his dreams for something urgent, it seemed. Someone kissed him on the head.

At first, Solas was reminded of a different person. Memories from ages ago. Of fingertips fondling his hair. Then nudging him carefully for a kiss, before sending him away. Those moments had been rare. The images were already fading, saved by the few dreams he had allowed himself over time.

And now he was kissed so tenderly again. Without having earned it.

None of this was real, of course. It was a game. A gamble. The body he held. The absurdly broad ribcage. Solas could sense the strong muscles under the samite robe. There was no way this could be real. He would never get so close to one of them. Be kissed by one of them. Still, he proceeded to smile. Stupidly, as he evaluated. Thinking stupid thoughts. Bless the arelanis.

After a while, Solas noticed the kisses had stopped. Well, who would always give without receiving anything in return?

Solas propped himself up on his elbows. His hand quickly found the man's cheek, stroking his caramel skin. Dorian Pavus looked surprised. A little wary, too. Solas knew he deserved his mistrust. He had to do it right this time.

Brushing the other lips, he tested the waters. His touch was welcomed more eagerly than the wary expression suggested, so Solas took him in. Their tongues met, curious and thirsty as they both were.

Solas retreated earlier than he liked to, keeping their foreheads together, as if he could break through the barrier of flesh and bone like this. Dive into the core and burn himself. In the back of his head, he knew what he did was madness. But oh, so thrilling, to deviate from the path. To pretend that there could ever be more. Wasn't there a whit of truth in Dorian's words? How could this beautiful melody be wrong?

Only another kiss could stop these thoughts. The taste of these lips. Solas would remember them forever.

Dorian just took what was offered to him. Solas was clearly broken. There must've been a giant rift somewhere right under Skyhold and soon, Ellana would knock their door down in panic to get them back to work. Yet until then...

He enjoyed the kindness of these lips a little longer, before they would turn to mock and tease again. Feel the warm skin before it would run cold, playing with the thought that some of these touches would remain in Solas' mind. Soften him. Hope was such a flighty feeling, but tickling so nicely in his stomach.

It weakened when Solas stopped, doubts quickly blending in. Their faces remained close together, both gasping as if the short impact had exhausted them already. Dorian remembered that they had paused like this before. This time, it could be farewell. He didn't dare to speak.

Instead, Solas kissed him again. None of this made sense.

He came back to his senses when his lips felt raw. He recalled Solas' teeth scratching their delicate surface. How he managed to pull himself out of this, he didn't know. Solas drew back further now, his eyes sought him. Dorian was surprised to find hunger in them. He assumed it made sense, considering what they were doing. Then Solas blinked, shortly, but Dorian knew he took control over his expression. His features softened. Although curiously, they didn't grow cold. He could only describe them as...well...affectionate? Overwhelmed, he cleared his throat. Then realized in shock how loud this sound was, breaking their sweet silence.

He watched Solas furrowed his brows and turn his head away, as if the noise hurt him. Yet before he could ramble an apology, the elf spoke first. “I apologize. I am staring.” His voice was quiet, almost whispering, and a little hoarse. Dorian had never heard him like this. There must've been something he could do to lighten him up. He had a catalogue of answers for occasions like these. “I would do so as well, if I were you”, he heard himself say. His heart fluttered when a smile formed on Solas' lips. He stared himself at the fascinating flicker of amusement and affection. Perhaps embarrassment, as if he was about to punch him again. Also resistance. He held something back. “Meaning, I don't mind”, Dorian added softer. “Good morning, Solas.”

Solas felt about to break apart. A simple 'good morning' had the power to crush his defences. The insanity of it all. They pulled at the seams of their own existence, and this was what he had to say about it. 'Good morning'. Was it even morning still? Solas had refused to leave this bed when he had been supposed to. Now he had lost track.

But the statement conveyed more than time. It made him feel welcome. Dorian didn't mind being here. Didn't hurry to get out of this room, to do whatever he needed to do. As if nothing else mattered than the man next to him. Solas was falling. “Good morning, Dorian”, passed his lips. And he meant just that.

He stared again. And how could he not take in this profile? The deliberately created sharp lines, the dark brows, the kohl framing his eyes, the black moustache that tickled when they kissed, curled like a smile. Who would want something like this in their face? Humans were incredible. It was a trap, he realized then, drawing his gaze right to the lush lips, where it lingered.

Dorian rejoiced when Solas stared more. Ridiculous elf, feeling sorry for appreciating consummate beauty.

He traced the remarkable cheekbone with a finger before he could stop himself. Solas lowered his eyelids, then tilted his head. Before Dorian realized, the elf leaned into his touch. So he began to massage his ear. What else could he do? Luckily, he seemed to do it right. Solas relaxed against him.

Couldn't they just stay here and do this until the world was either saved or blew up? Ellana was doing fine anyway. She'd soon be Knight Enchanter, what could go wrong?

“Do you know what time it is?”, Solas suddenly whispered, bringing Dorian back to reality. That blasted time. Now it would be really practical to mess with it. Stop it, at best. The sun wasn't shining through the windows yet, so it could be rather midmorning to midday. Still, rather late, considering Solas' usual schedule. This was it, then. Dorian felt a sting in his chest when he told him his assumption. But instead of jumping up, the elf only hummed, with his eyes closed. “Solas?” “Hm?” “Did you hear me?” “Hm.”

“You might...lie back down, so I could reach you better”, Dorian tried, more as a jest. And as if the Maker himself played a trick on him, Solas lowered himself until he lay on his chest. Dorian kept on fondling and stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed by all that sweet nonsense. “I presume that you...find that we may bide awhile?” He couldn't hold back. Needed clarity, for when his heart would be wrung like a mop. He heard Solas suck in a breath. “Forgive me. I suspected that...” He propped himself up again. Dorian regretted to let go of his ear. “I will not delay you any longer.”

When he moved to leave the bed, Dorian grabbed his arm. “Hold up. I thought you had to leave.” “Me?” Solas looked puzzled, as if it never occurred to him that he was usually running back and forth between dozens of tasks. He appeared to ponder, yet found nothing. “What of your research?” “Ah...you know, books are patient.” The tension fell. “So is history”, Solas whispered. Dorian patted the spot on his chest and gave the elf a look he had catalogued as compelling.

Solas couldn't believe this. They were deluded, both of them. Acting as if they had all the time in the world. They didn't. The world was ending. Everything was at stake. And still, in this moment, all that mattered was them. Solas felt grateful. Eternally grateful for these precious hours. He rested his head on the warm body and let the man care for him with his talented hands. His eyes soon fell shut. Even in his dreams, he lingered in this place.

Dorian lay awake for a while, not believing anything that happened. But even his doubting mind needed rest eventually.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve #rarepair solas

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chemdisaster · 2 years ago

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in my lonely arc 💔

Chem has seen this happen before. For three previous games, they sat back and Watched as an entirely different set of players fought against the binding rules of the game. Alliances were made and broken, lives were won and lost, and through it all Chem Watched, and remembered, and eventually started to learn.

Knowing how these things tend to go, they quickly figured out that their best bet was to gather as many resources as possible while they still could. And they made good on that resolve, spending the entire week filling their inventory with anything that could potentially be useful, redstone and iron and the enchanter a comforting weight on the back of their mind.

Now though, as the haze of preparation falls off, they find themselves sitting alone in their Pits, the enchanter warm against their side, wondering if maybe in their will to survive they may have missed something that most people would find crucial.

The Pits, for all their beauty, are a quiet place.

No one really comes down here, other than to grab some glow berries. And Chem doesn’t mind, really! Let them have their glow berries. Having killed every pig they’ve come across, Chem finds that glow berries really aren’t of any importance to them. If their fellow players want to eat a fruit that makes them even more hungry, they can (literally) be their guest.

It’s just...the quiet gets overwhelming.

Sitting alone in their cave, watching messages slowly tick by on their comm—something within Chem aches to hear a voice other than the ones in their own head.

It’s not even that it’s anything new. But walking up the mountain, only to immediately turn back when they heard the sounds of people talking—

It’s like something clicked in their brain.

Oh. They have friends.

Chem doesn’t know why they expected anything different. Not everyone is like them. Not everyone sees making human connections as something secondary compared to preparing for the upcoming bloodshed. Not everyone would spend a week mining, hoping that someone would wait for them, only to surface with the realisation that everyone else has moved on.

(Not everyone prioritises surviving over living.)

Ah well. It’s too late now. They missed their chance.

Exhaling heavily, Chem curls up against the stone wall and hugs the enchanter closer to their body, letting its steady warmth chase away the coldness inside.

They may not have friends, but they have resources. And that’s all they need. The enchanter will do more for them in the long run than any fragile alliance ever could. They don’t need friends.

Friends won’t save their life, after all.

However lonely a life it may be.

#5llsmp #5ll chem #worddisaster #chemdisaster

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magnuslightwoodbane · 2 years ago

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(without you) i’d be gone with the wind

vashwood, 1.9k words, wolfwood inner monologue, pre-relationship, second person pov

read on ao3

You have so many names, and you like less than half of them. Wolfwood is the easiest - you wear that one like a coat, to cover up the rest of you, but you don’t mind it, because you chose to wear it. Nicholas was given to you as a child, and the Punisher affixed onto that like a chain around your neck, dragging you down to the level you belong to, only the solid ground of reality and life keeping you from being frozen in ice for all eternity. The ninth circle, betrayers of special relationships, Judas, Brutus, Satan, you.

You’ve been called Executioner, devil, preacher man, attack dog, Father, monster. Nick is fine. You don’t feel like a Nick, really. Nico belonged to Livio, but Vash said it once, in a dazed state of having just woken up, and it surprisingly didn’t feel like your heart was being wrenched out of your chest, so you let him and only him keep using it. You think that the two of them would have really liked each other, so that makes it okay, somehow.

You’re sat on the hood of an abandoned, broken down car with him, cigarette lit, with only sand stretching out for miles, no matter which way you look. Above, though, the Worms shine and shimmer in all their glory, and you try to pretend that they’re stars. Somewhere beyond them, past the actual stars, somewhere way out there, is Earth. You’ve never felt a connection to it, not really - you’ve barely got any human remaining left in you, you think - but the warm body next to you has you thinking. Vash came to Noman’s Land with the rest of the humans, all those years ago, sure, but the humans at least had a tangible origin point, a home to remember, to honour. Plants come from another fucking dimension . You can’t even begin to comprehend that, how it must be for Vash. And yeah, okay, there are other Plants here, swimming around in great big fuck-off vats, being used by humans to survive, but the humans probably don’t even realise they’re sentient (the thought maybe Knives had a point flashes briefly in your mind here, and you shake it off quickly). But the closest thing Vash has ever had to someone who gets him IS Millions fuckin’ Knives, and that’s just depressing.

The guy might have been cutting your cheques for a bit but fuck me, you couldn’t ever imagine holding him and calling him brother. Couldn't imagine still loving him so deeply the way Vash does, even after everything Knives put him through.

Anyway. Back to Vash.

(It always comes back to Vash with you, doesn’t it?)

Not that long ago, you couldn’t even imagine liking Vash as much as you do, so maybe you just needed to spend a little more time with Knives to really get it. But on the other hand, you would prefer to deepthroat a cactus, as chances are good you would be dealing with less of a prick.

Vash shifts his body on the hood of the rusty metal carcass, and crosses his legs next to you. You can feel the warmth of his leg brushing up against you, far too hot for any human flesh to be beneath those layers of fabric. It must be horribly lonely, being Vash. Wandering, trying to help, being met with fear and hatred at every turn. He must have travelled alone for so long.

And now, he travels with you.

You’d fled the last town you were in with him earlier this evening, Vash having of course stumbled his way into another situation, chased out to gunfire and shouting. You don’t even know what pissed them off so badly this time. Meryl and Milly stayed behind with their apparently innocent demeanours and plausible deniability; you work so well as a unit, the four of you, that you don’t even need to agree a plan of action with them when these things happen - you two run, they stay behind, stock up, and catch up. Plus, it gives the two of them some time alone. You don’t yet know if either has made a move yet, but Milly is so perceptive you don’t believe she hasn’t noticed the looks Meryl throws her way when she thinks no one else is looking. Maybe they already have begun something, and are just so very good at being subtle about it.

He shifts again, and you hear the almost imperceptible hiss escape from his teeth. Your head swivels so fast that you feel you would have broken your own neck had you moved any quicker. You watch as Vash reaches his arm up under his shirt, exposing his tummy - abdomen, Wolfwood, don’t be a child - and the scar tissue that patterns his flesh. His long fingers find their target, and pluck something out, before withdrawing. His shirt falls to cover the expanse of skin and you feel a weird sense of loss. You have no idea why this keeps happening.

You have no time to think too hard about it, though, as between Vash’s fingers is a bullet. A spent one. With blood all over it. That he’d just pulled out of his own body.

And Vash? Well, Vash… he laughs. He grins, sheepishly. “Missed that one, huh?”

You feel like you’re going to fucking explode with rage. You tamp it down before it can boil over, because it’s not Vash you’re actually angry at, more the people who shoot at him without care, whose first response to this angel of deliverance is violence.

Okay, you’re a little angry at Vash too. Stupid noble martyr hero complex motherfucker. “What. The. Fuck. Spikey.” You think you kept your voice level, but judging by Vash’s wince, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up growling it instead.

“Uh. Sorry?” he says. You seize the lapels of his coat and drag him towards you. He yelps in surprise.

“You idiot, are you hurt anywhere else? Why didn’t you say anything?! What the fuck even happened?! Why did you piss them off so badly they shot you? Why do you never do anything to stop- URGH!” You shove him away, not hard, but you need to calm yourself down, so you release him with some of the energy that had just been building up. You look away from him, and spit out the butt of the cigarette onto the sand below, trying to focus on actually breathing.

You’ve run through a couple of the breathing exercises you’d read about in that trashy little book, and just about stabilised your mood, before Vash speaks.

"I know you think I'm naive, sometimes."

He's right. You do. But you're not sure if it's because he actually is, or because you're so twisted and broken in the opposite way. Maybe it’s both.

He continues. "I think you forget how much older than you I am. I'm this way because I choose to be, because I choose to believe in humans and their capacity for love."

You snort. "Even when we're being run out of towns because they're shooting at you all the fucking time?"

"They shoot because they're scared of me. They're scared because of their love for their people. It doesn't matter that they're wrong about the threat being me, really.”

You groan at his self-flagellating goodness. “Well, you’re just a really, fuckin’, good person then. Ain’t ya? Not like the rest of us.” Not like me, you don’t say. The words come out like shotgun blasts, but you don’t spit them with venom, because it’s not an insult, not to him. He is good personified, everything you’re not, wrapped up in a lanky, idiot-shaped package.

"Wolfwood, you believe in a soul, right? In an afterlife, in punishment for those who've done wrong?"

Where the fuck is this coming from? "It's… complicated," you say, because it is. You don't look at him, instead staring straight up at the sky. You think the eternal damnation is here and now for the whole of humanity, but you'll never say that out loud. It might break his heart, and you couldn't handle that, just like you can't handle thinking about why that troubles you.

"Well if you do, then you would have to be a good person too, Nico,” he says, softly, gently. “Because you would damn your own soul a hundred times over so other people don't have to. So I don't have to."

You feel your heart stop, the blood thundering in your ears. You don’t see it, but you can feel the movement, as he pulls up his legs and wraps his arm around them. He rests his head on his knees, but that fucking gaze of his doesn't shift. It burns into the side of your face; you can feel it, stripping you bare despite how desperately you try to rebuild the eroding walls. He smiles, softly; you hear it in his words.

"Nicholas, the Protector."

That makes you look at him. There’s not a single coherent thought in your mind, no biting remarks, and you can feel your mouth gape open, shaping out formless words, desperate to respond, to deny, to lash out, anything so you don’t have to accept this honour that you could never deserve. He chuckles, fucking chuckles, and he grins in that way he does, all teeth and eyes crinkling, and you want to kiss him so fucking bad-

Wait.

What?

Oh no. No no no no no no no-

Oh yes, says the irritating narrator that takes up residence in your mind every time you have a crisis, of which this is absolutely NOT. You want him, carnally of course, because you’re just awful like that, but worse. You want to be a better person, for him. Because of him. You have FEELINGS for your closest pal, Punisher.

Vash leans in while you freak out in your own mind, and your body fortunately has the capacity not to flinch as he gets closer. He rests his hand against your jaw, and cups it gently, thumb sweeping over your cheek and flesh warm where you didn’t realise you were getting cold. His metal hand comes to rest on your leg, heavy and comforting, just like his presence by your side is whether sleeping or fighting. He leans closer, so much closer, and his lips brush your cheek in a small, slow kiss. You feel your eyes slip closed as his breath ghosts your skin, and a whimper involuntarily let out. You have no idea what to do with such sheer tenderness.

He leans back, slightly, and you can hear the intake of breath before he speaks. Immediately, your mind runs through a thousand and one things he could say next, ranging anywhere from and between Psych! You suck actually to have my babies, Nicholas.

“Let’s go set up camp Nico, I am beat! ” is what he actually says. It’s so Vash. It’s perfect. He’s.. no, don’t go there yet. “Okay, Grandpa.” You regain the ability to speak as you hop down, but it only comes out as a hoarse whisper. Vash, to his credit, doesn’t react to this at all. He wiggles instead, like he’s doing a little dance, as he walks away to the spot you found earlier. “Respect your elders!” he sings, and you follow. You will always follow.

You have so many names, and you’ve just been given one more. This one you like. You hope one day that you can earn it, but for now, it is his.

#vashwood #vashwood fic #trigun #LOOK I WROTE SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 3 YEARS #mine #my writing

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beels-burger-babe · 4 years ago

Text

With You Always

***So I really really really love this idea, but I'm going to tweak it just a little bit so rather than only seeing them in mirrors, MC can just always see them when the brothers aren't around. This one is going to take place after they return to the human realm. I'm also going to be using he/him pronouns for the crush that'll be mentioned. I figured since all the dateables in the game identify as male, it'd be a safe bet. Thank you so so much for this creative request @gender-less-lemon (also I freaking love your profile picture. Monster Camp/Prom is hilarious)***

Summary: An average day of high school with MC...and the seven pact manifestations that haunt their vision.

TW: Bullying You were awoken not by an alarm, or your guardian, or even some random noise from outside, but rather a phantom gnawing on your arm. With a groan, you blinked open your eyes and saw just your regular old room, with one minor difference; a spectral red bear was happily teething on your elbow. You chuckled and pet the manifestation, noting the brightly glowing symbol of gluttony resting in its stomach. "Okay, Beel," you mumbled to yourself as you dragged yourself out of bed, pushing the purple translucent calf sleeping on your stomach, in the process. "I hear you." Ever since you had returned to the human realm, you had been followed around by spectral manifestations of the seven pacts that you owned. By the looks of things, no one else could see them, and they only appeared when the connected sin was active or needed, but it helped you feel less alone. You missed the brothers more than you had anticipated. It was more than a little bit of a culture shock to go from being loved and spoiled every day to being the misfit in your high school. Speaking of which, you needed to get going if you weren't going to be late. As you rushed around our room frantically grabbing the things you needed to get ready, the calf-like manifestation of sloth sat on your bed mooing in complaint. You sent a glare over to it as you finished collecting your belongings. "Trust me, I rather stay home and sleep too, buddy. But I have to go." Grabbing some fruit on your way out the door, you just managed to make it to school on time. Now it was simply a matter of surviving the day.

In all honesty, you preferred RAD to high school. In RAD, the subjects were interesting and grasped your attention without any problems at all. You had friends, even outside of the brothers. Sure there were always demons that would talk down about the kid human that clung to the demon lords, but you had the brothers to protect you. It was nice.

Now that you were back in the human world, you had none of that. In fact, you were even more of a misfit than when you were before. The teenager that vanished for a year and came back weirder than before; that was you. At first, you couldn't get people to leave you alone, but once they realized you weren't going to give them answers they backed off. You would occasionally laugh or whisper to the manifestations, which would earn you some more than weird looks, but you didn't care. These weird little ghost-like creatures were one of the only things you had connecting you to the Devildom. They meant more to you than anything else. As you entered your classroom, you had to bite back a laugh at the sight of one of your classmates looking around in confusion as, unknown to them, a golden yellow crow flapped around their head and pecked at the shiny earrings they were wearing. You took your seat in the back of the classroom and watch in amusement as the crow continued pecking at the various belongings of students, causing subtle chaos and confusion. Leave it to Mammon to make your day even when he wasn't actually there. Your teacher walked in and sat down in his chair. "Alright, class. Today we're going to continue with our history presentations. Remember these were subjects of your choice, so I do hope that you can at least pretend to be interested," he sighed and pulled out a clipboard. "Looks like the next person presenting is...MC." You winced and looked down at your notes. The topic was definitely one you were confident in, but to present it in front of your class. What if no one liked it? What if people laughed? What if- You felt a nudge on your arm. You glanced over to see a dazzling blue peacock, straightening its long neck out high as it puffed out its chest. The pride manifestation gestured forward with its head and almost seemed to smile at you. You smiled gently as you felt warmth grow from his pact mark on your inner wrist and stood up beside the peacock. It cawed and began to strut forward, leading the way to the front of the class. The mental image of Lucifer doing the same almost caused you to burst out laughing. You finally turned to the class and held your head up proudly as you began to speak. "My presentation today will be on biblical demonology and the way it has evolved throughout the eons of its existence." It was the best presentation you had ever given in your life. Riding off of the high from history class, the day seemed to fly by. Before you knew it was time for lunch. The bear was back, this time just softly moaning it continued butting your back with its head in an attempt to get you to go to the cafeteria faster. With one particularly heard shove, you were sent stumbling forward, directly into the chest of someone. "I'm so sorry! I'm a total clutz. I just tripped, I hadn't meant to-" you cut yourself off as you looked up and noticed you were looking at your crush. Your jaw snapped shut as you felt your face suddenly become uncomfortably hot. He smiled and waved off the apology. "It's alright. Just an accident right?" Your face became even hotter as you noticed a bright pink rabbit jumping up and down happily behind him. "I- Uh...Ehm...Y-Yeah! Yeah, t-totally an accident. I'm seat so I should go find my hungry. I-I mean!" He chuckled and nodded. "No worries, I get what you're trying to say. Enjoy your seat, MC," he gave you a wink, causing you to squeak as he walked off. You glared down at the rabbit running happy circles around your feet and the red bear that was sulking guiltily in a corner. "I blame you two for this." With an embarrassed huff, you entered the cafeteria and found yourself instantly wanting to walk back out. Everyone was laughing and talking with one another in their friend groups at their tables. Some gossiped eagerly over a magazine. Others sat silently with one another while they gamed or read books. There was even a table where a group of theatre kids were drumming out a soundtrack beat on the table while singing their favourite

songs. You ducked your head down and grabbed a tray of food before moving to the lonely table in the back, doing your best to ignore the giant orange snake that slithered between the tables, occasionally hissing and tripping students. You tried not to think of how you could be just like those groups of laughing friends, if only you were still at RAD. Your heart ached as you thought about the brothers. Maybe you could call them tonight. You let out a heavy sigh as you stood up and went to leave. You had almost made it to the door when a familiar face stopped you. Standing just a couple inches taller than you, surrounded by their groupies, was your tormentor, Taylor. You weren't entirely sure why they hated you so much. You just knew that they did, and that it got even worse when you came back from the Devildom. Taylor smirked with their arms crossed over their chest. "Where do you think your going? You haven't come to say hello yet." You scoffed and tried to walk past them. "Leave me alone, Taylor. I'm not in the mood for this today," before you could get very far, you were harshly onto the floor, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped and glared up at them. "What the fuck?!" The bully just sneered down at you. "You may not be in the mood for this, but I am. You know I heard about your weirdo presentation. Demons? Really? What are you, a satanist?" Their word choice was really ironic, for at that moment you noticed the large, white unicorn with flaming green hair and eyes appear behind them. The beast stomped its hooves and whinnied dangerously. You gulped nervously and looked up at Taylor. "Even if I was, it's not your business. I just find the topic interesting is all." You went to stand up, and therefore force the angry horse with a horn away from Taylor, but were stopped as they placed their foot on top of your chest. "I bet that's why you have all those weird tattoos, huh? What did you run away and join a cult for a year? Freak!" You could feel Satan's pact mark on the back of your neck grow hotter and hotter to the point that you were concerned the manifestation may be trying to summon him. Your eyes widen as you noticed it back up a few steps and point its horn at Taylor. You knew that the creatures normally could do small interactions with others, such as tripping or pushing, but you had never seen them attempt anything so violent. You couldn't just let it kill someone. "STOP!" The cafeteria fell quiet, but you weren't looking at them or even Taylor, you were looking at the unicorn. The manifestation neighed in frustration and jumped around, but obeyed your command. You slumped in relief. Looking back over to Taylor, you found them glaring down at you like you were nothing but a bug. They opened their mouth to degrade you even further when a teacher finally stepped forward. "What is happening here?" You walked over to the unicorn while Taylor fed the teacher a handful of lies. You leaned over to the manifestation and whispered under your breath. "Thank you for trying to protect me, but you can't hurt people. Just leave it be." The creature snorted and nuzzled your shoulder. In comparison to the hectic lunch hour, the rest of the day passed by with ease. In no time at all, you were back home in your room. You had just plopped onto your bed, when you heard a familiar ringtone. You smiled brightly and quickly grabbed your D.D.D. before immediately answering the phone. "Hello?" "Oh, you answered that quite quickly," you grinned at the surprise in Satan's tone. "I was just calling to-" "IS THAT MC?! GIMME!!!" You laughed as the sounds of Satan yelling and running from Mammon came through the other end. There was a yelp, a bang, and a victorious whoop before you could hear the device get picked up by someone. "'Hey MC! How was your day? I hope you didn't miss the great Mammon too badly. N-Not that I've missed you or anything just wanted to know how you're doin' is all." Belphie's purple calf climbed its way into your lap once more as you gently patted its head.

"I miss you too, Mammon. And today wasn't bad. I'd say it was pretty average overall." You could hear Satan growl in the background before there was a loud thud followed by a scream from Mammon. Satan took the phone back. "Just average you say? Nothing special?" You frowned and narrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "No, why?" To your right, the unicorn neighed softly and plopped down beside your bed. "Well, I could've sworn I felt our pact become triggered at some point today and...Well in all honesty I was concerned. We worry about you getting hurt without us there with you, MC." You couldn't help but smile softly as one by one each of the manifestations of your pacts made their way to your bed and laid down. "I know," you replied affectionately. "Though I'm never completely alone. So long as I have my pacts, you guys will always be with me." ***This was such an interesting concept to toy around with. I hope this wasn't too confusing and actually makes sense 😅😅 Thanks again for the amazing request @gender-less-lemon!***

Taglist @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me demon brothers #obey me pacts #obey me requests #teen reader #teen mc #b requests

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