#this wasn't inspired by anything specific i'm just fucking tired
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#hot take apparently#but#people are allowed to interpret characters differently#but also#it's not vagueposting for someone to post about opposing (or even negative) interpretations of a character on their own blog#someone disagreeing with an interpretation is not a personal attack on people who feel differently actually#and we would all do better to internalize that#instead of accusing everyone of personal attacks against the 'other side'#and even if someone's opinion is inspired by disagreeing with something someone else said#it is STILL not a personal attack against anyone as long as their focus is a breakdown of the character and text and not a personal slight#just let people interpret things differently#they're not being mean to you just because they hate a character#and as long as they are not being actively racist misogynistic or homophobic (which are accusations happening WAY too much around here)#then get over it#fandom discourse#911 discourse#i guess#this wasn't inspired by anything specific i'm just fucking tired
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ComfortSwiss!Reader
Inspired by @skele-bunny
Nightmares of your days in the pit had become regular, espically when the moon was full, and glaring down at you from your window. A multi-ghoul wasn't natural. You're not natural. Words of the pit followed you topside. Nothing, no one could shake them.
Tonight was no different. You had taken to walking in the halls at night. No destination in mind. Just walking. Restlessness followed the darkness of the night. It was too similar to the darkness of the pit. You silently cursed not having the element of fire. That could at least keep some of the darkness at bay. This time you had wandered down a different hall, not paying enough attention to your surroundings, but the scent that lingered in the hall, was strangely familiar, a mix of varying scents. The ghouls den.
You blinked at the realization and then turned to head back, before realizing you didn't know how to get back to the ghoulettes gen. The Abbey had been built like a maze. "Fucks sake," you whisper, rubbing your face. Instinct told you to go to Mountain's room, knock, and ask for help. He wouldn't mind. But you didn't want to wake him up. So instead you looked around. A warm flicker of light came out from under a door, you stepped closer, and the familiar smell of cedar embers, and leather. A scent that's so distinctly Swiss.
You don't think about it, but in the blink of an eye, you're standing in front of his door, your hand raised to knock. But what if I'm bothering him? What if he doesn't want to help? What if-
Your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening, and Swiss' cocky smirk appearing in front of you. "Well, well, well... Look who's caving into the lift of the 3-week intimate ban."
Your brow wrinkles in confusion. "Huh? No... that's- that's not it," you whisper, your voice shaky.
Confusion flashes across his face for a moment. It's rare to catch the multi ghoul off guard. He takes a moment to study you, like really study you, and notices the bags under your eyes, the way you're slumped slightly, the tired skittishness about your appearance.
"Can't sleep?" he guesses quietly, his demeanor softening.
You nod slightly, but avoid the reason why. "I just need help getting back to the ghoulette den. I- I can't sleep at night, so I walk, and I just got lost this time. I don't know how I ended up here, or how to get back. And the dark feels constricting."
"Too much like the pit."
Swiss' words are quiet, a silent understanding flickering in his eyes.
"Yeah..." you mumble, your arms coming around you as if to protect yourself in a bear hug.
"Why can't you sleep?" he asks softly.
"Memories of the pit keep coming back."
"Ah, I see... Anything specific? Or just the pit in general?"
"The pit, and the disgusted looks, the whispered words, the shunning just because I was a multi," you whisper. "A disgrace."
His eyes soften and he pulls you into a gentle hug. "I know. Some people can't handle the idea of multis. They think we're freaks. They think that we're just abominations in the flesh. I've received the looks too."
"How did you get through it?"
He sighed. "You don't want to know."
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to know."
A pause, before a quiet, ashamed mumble. "Sex. S'was the only way anyone showed affection."
"Oh." What else could you say to that?
"But you didn't, did you?" he murmured. "You didn't sell your body to feel that."
"No," you breathe. "I didn't."
"Good."
"I still hate it. I hate that every time I close my eyes, all I see are the looks. That all I hear are the whispers. Even if I know I'm not alone. I hate that you went through it too."
He tightens his grip around you ever so slightly as he holds you close, his voice soft and comforting in your ear. "I know. But listen to me. It's over now, okay? You're with us now. You're with me. And I swear to you that nobody is going to hurt you or call you names. You're safe. You aren't a disgrace. You aren't a mistake. You're as beautiful as the stars, darling. They can't see that you're worth more than they are combined." He whispers the words he wishes someone had told him years ago. The words he needed to hear. Even now. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to be haunted by the past. Okay?"
"If I'm safe, why can't I sleep?" You whisper into his chest, as his arms tighten around you.
He lets out a soft sigh and begins gently rubbing your back with a hand, the other still holding you close to him, trying to comfort and soothe you. "Memories can haunt you. I know that all too well. But you're not going to let them win, okay? You're stronger than they are. Do you want to sleep here tonight?" His voice is soft as he gently kicks his door open a little wide, letting the light from his fireplace and the candles lit across the room, seep out into the hallway.
"I don't want to intrude," you murmur, looking down.
He tilts your head up to look at him, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, you wouldn't be intruding, okay? I'm offering. Come on, you need to get some sleep. And I know a way I can get you to sleep if you trust me."
"How-"
He chuckled softly, a cheeky grin on his face. "Come on. You'll see. But first, you gotta trust me. I promise no funny business. I just want to help you get some sleep. Just let me change the sheets."
A small laugh falls from your lips. That's a promise you never thought you'd hear Swiss make. Espically considering all the times you've seen him bite the other ghouls, playfully of course.
"Okay," you whisper.
He smiles a soft and genuine one. One you've only seen him give Aurora when she brings him his favorite pastries. You walk in hestaintly as he moves to the bed, and strips it before quickly changing the sheets. When you offer to help, he tutts, and waves you to go and sit on one of the couches, telling you that it's not your mess. It's everyone's mess but yours. You can only sigh and comply, moving to sit on the couch. Not that the couch would be any cleaner.
He changes the sheets quickly, tossing the soiled ones down the laundry chute and putting clean ones down on the bed. He grabs fresh comforters from the closet and a few fuzzy blankets, arranging them carefully before fluffing his pillows.
"Come on. Lay down and close your eyes. I got this okay?"
You get up and carefully climb onto the bed, settling near the edge, nervously.
He chuckled a little bit and shook his head at your position, his hand going to grab your waist as he carefully pulled you closer to the middle of the bed. "You seriously want to try and fall off? Scoot closer, idiot."
You huff out a breath but allow him to move you, relaxing as his normal lighthearted demanor comes out again.
He smiles, a satisfied sigh falling from his lips as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you against his chest. This other hand went to gently brush through your hair, his voice soft and gentle. "There we go. That's better, right? Just relax and close your eyes a bit for me."
He watches as your eyes slowly flutter shut, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. Then he shifts slightly, adjusting so that he's on his back, and your head is on his chest, his heartbeat thrumming against your ear. "Good. Just like that. Now just listen. Try and match my breathing, yeah? In and out. In... out. Just focus on it."
You do, and the combination of his soft voice, his hand in your hair, andhis heartbeat in your ear, lulls you off to a peaceful slumber for the first time in weeks.
It doesn't take long for this to become a daily tradition. Swiss clears his nights for you, aranging for his fun to happen well in advance so he can change the sheets. The rest of the pack notice, but no one comments on it. Not when Swiss seems to have found a piece of himself again. No one dares to break it.
#swiss ghoul#ghost ghouls#ghost band#ghost band headcanons#nameless ghouls#ghoul headcanons#swiss ghost#fluff#a little angst#soft swiss#for fics fics
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hood wrap
OK so when I bought my boring silver car i was like "i'm gonna find some art and put it on a hood wrap and then my car won't be so boring" and then of course i did not do that.
but this past... whenver that was, my mom came to visit and on THREE SEPARATE OCCASIONS with several people in tow I tried to get into the WRONG SILVER CAR. Once it was a Crosstrek, understandable mistake. Once it was a fucking, Honda something. Like not even close! Ugh. And everyone's standing there and I'm clicking my clicker and all three times I look in and i"m like "that's not my stuff in the center console" and then I turn my head and there's my car, two spaces down, blinking forlornly at me. WHOOPS.
So I've got to get off my ass and actually do it, get some art and get this fucking hood wrap put on, because my car is Too Anonymous.
So the first step is, I'm gonna commission Sass to draw me something amazing. I already figure, two figures at least, some kind of action pose. A dragon and a unicorn maybe. IDK. No background, just some kind of gradient. A rainbow color scheme. This is all fine.
But i need some inspiration for what to request, so I'm just putting it out here. My original inspiration was "sick wizard van" but i don't want a wizard because people are going to keep trying to assign that to a specific fandom and i don't want a Fan Van, I just don't want to be tied down like that. i want something Generic Fantasy.
So anyway if you've seen any art like that or are stricken with any inspiration, please send me inspiration pictures or breathless descriptions of your awesome idea, so I can get this commission together. (I meanwhile have to research what kind of resolution and dimensions a hood wrap needs to be printed to, so.)
I need it to be kinda SFW and not anything that's going to inspire cops to persecute me or offend family members and all; i know i'd said "titty wizard" but honestly i should probably not put titties on my car just because we live in a society and i don't want to be tired about it all the time. Hence probably sticking with non-anthropormorphic figures.
though, i *could* have a smaller-scale titty wizard riding the unicorn into battle or something, if it wasn't the main focus of the composition. That of course makes this three figures rather than two but I can afford that, LOL, if I'm doing this at all. which i AM. so.
(gandalf big naturals in the background in morvran's baltimore robe)
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shiny new toy
(felix catton\reader)
chapter four
details: a saltburn inspired short story.
content warning: profanity, explicit sexual content, and mentions of abuse (physical and mental)
warning for this chapter: this chapter depicts explicit sexual content. if you are not an adult, DO NOT READ!!! the aftermath of physical violence (da) is also contained in this chapter.
MNI 18+
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The first thing I registered was the cold, hard floor beneath me. It did little to comfort my injuries, but it was the only proof I had that I wasn't dead. And that was surprising, considering the last thing I remember was Eric preparing to slit my throat.
A myriad of voices rang from somewhere nearby. I vaguely recognized them, but I was already gripped by the darkness, which promised to drag me back to a peaceful slumber.
"Damnit, Farleigh. I specifically told you and Venetia to keep an eye on her."
"I did! It's not my fault she wandered off."
"And why the fuck didn't you follow her? Christ, mate, this is exactly why I needed you to watch her."
"Well, she's your fucking toy. Why the hell weren't you watching her?"
"Don't call her that. It's not like that this time, and you know it."
"Oh, do I? Because so far, it is. Tell me, Felix, when will you grow tired of treating people like objects? Because I-"
"Enough. If you say one more word, I will personally ask my father to withdraw his invitation for you to spend the summer at Saltburn. Where will you go then, hm? You'll have to shack up with one of the teachers here you've blown."
"Fucking hell, will you two shut up? Your bloody bickering isn't going to help us find Iris. I'm going outside to check the yard. Farleigh, why don't you come with me? You, little brother, can search the rest of the house."
Silence filled the air before footsteps vibrated in different directions. A door squeaked before someone above me said my name in anguish.
"Iris? Jesus, what happened?"
Warm hands braced my upper body and rolled me onto my back. It took immense strength to crack my eyes open, but I was glad I did because I saw the one person I wanted more than anything.
"Felix?" I whispered through bloodied, cracked lips.
"It's me, darling. I'm here," he said, falling to the floor and pulling me onto his lap. I whimpered quietly and buried my face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent.
Felix consoled me, tightly wrapping his arms around me to ensure my safety. "Shh, it's ok, love; I've got you."
"Damn, what happened to your face?"
I weakly craned my neck to see Farleigh and Venetia standing in Marcus Ackerly's bathroom doorway, looking equally shocked and disturbed. I suppose Eric did a number on me for people to regard me in such a way.
"Shut it, Farleigh," Felix uttered lowly, coming to my defense. "I'm going to take her to my room so you two can return to your previous activities."
Felix stood with me, still cradled against his chest, and murmured words of comfort as my sore body protested against the sudden shift.
"Feel better, Iris," Venetia said as we passed her and Farleigh, still hovering by the door. A small smile graced her face, but Farleigh's remained unreadable. I smiled feebly in return before relaxing against Felix as he carried me away from them and out of the house.
The walk to Felix's dormitory was quiet, and I anxiously studied his expression. It was one of stone as he tensed his jaw and ground his teeth.
"Felix?"
His face immediately softened as he looked down at me, concerned. "What is it, darling? Does something hurt?"
Technically, everything hurt. But I didn't want to say that out of fear that I'd worry Felix even more.
"I was wondering why you looked so mad. Did I do something wrong?"
My thoughts were spiraling out of control, and I wondered if I was burdening him too much. After all, he was taking me back to his room, so I had, without a doubt, ruined his night. I'm sure he would much rather spend his evening with a woman who hadn't just got beaten to a pulp by her crazy ex-boyfriend.
"No, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," he assured me. "Someone fucking hurt you, and it kills me that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there to protect you."
"No, don't blame yourself, Felix. You were busy with Ollie-"
"Exactly, I was busy entertaining the pathetic fantasy of a fucking lunatic and not staying with you like I was supposed to," he growled.
"What are you talking about? What happened with you and Oliver?"
"It doesn't matter now," Felix responded briskly as he kicked open the door to his room.
He delicately sat me on his bed and put an arm on either side of my legs, caging me in. Felix's head dipped between his shoulders, and he took a moment before speaking to calm himself.
"Iris," he started lowly, almost inaudible. "Who did this to you?"
When I didn't respond, he lifted his head, and our gazes clashed: earthy brown against forest green.
"Who did this to you? Who fucking hurt you?" His anger was rising, and I knew the only way to subdue him was to give him the answer he wanted.
"Is it who I think it was?" he pressed. "Was it that piece of shit who wouldn't leave you alone?"
"Yes. It was Eric," I faintly confirmed as tears blurred my vision. My throat threatened to close, but I forced myself to continue.
"He was mad about the text. He'd been watching us all night, and then when he saw I was alone, he chased me into the bathroom and cornered me there, and-"
"Fuck," Felix swore harshly under his breath.
I wanted to say more but refrained when he dropped his forehead to mine.
"I need you to know how fucking sorry I am, darling. I never intended to abandon you like that. I should've known that Eric would try to pull something like this."
Regret had infiltrated his voice before the tone became more confident. "Over my dead body, will that asshole ever come near you again."
"Felix, please, don't talk like that," I begged, shrinking away due to the topic of his death. It was something I found too utterly painful to comprehend.
"I'm sorry, love. But I'm serious; he will regret ever touching you."
"What are you going to do?" I asked, nervous that Felix would try something stupid and risk his safety. Eric wasn't worth it.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything," Felix mumbled as he traced a bruise on my cheek.
To signal that the conversation was over, Felix stepped into his bathroom. A moment later, he reappeared, holding up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a small towel. "I'm gonna clean you up, ok?"
I nodded my head, earning a smile from Felix. He doused the towel in alcohol before coming back to stand directly in front of me. "This might sting a bit. Just squeeze my hand if it hurts."
Biting my lip, I grasped his empty hand and was comforted by his touch.
Felix began working carefully over my face. I did my best to mask my discomfort, but when it became too much, I squeezed his hand, and he promptly leaned down to kiss my head before whispering, "You're doing so well for me, love. I'm so proud of you."
He finished cleansing the gashes on my face before moving to my hands, arms, and legs, which were covered in minor cuts due to the broken glass from the shattered mirror.
"Almost done—just a few more minutes. I gotta make sure these don't get infected. I need my girl healthy."
My girl
The simple phrase had butterflies erupting in my stomach. They flew widely around, and I knew there was no chance of me calming them down.
"All done," he announced, giving me one of his gentle smiles, which I'd grown to love so much.
"Thank you. For everything. If it weren't for you, I'd still be passed out at Marcus' place."
Felix's face hardened, and I knew he was recalling what it was like to discover me bloody and bruised.
"When I found you, for a moment, I thought I had lost you forever. I can't even begin to describe how fucking terrifying that was. The mere idea of losing you is something I can't bare. I need you, Iris. I need you."
His eyes were frantic as they searched my face—for what, I'm not sure—but his stare added an intensity to the air and charged it with something neither of us fully understood. But it was enticing and intoxicating.
Felix held my face between his hands, and I reached up to cover them with my own as I promised him softly, "I'm here, Felix, and I'm ok."
He tenderly kissed my forehead, and his hands, almost hesitantly, settled on my waist. He paused for a moment to analyze my reaction before placing another kiss on my temple. Gradually, Felix worked down until his mouth was under my jaw. In a daze, my head lulled back, giving him access to my neck.
It didn't take him long to find my sweet spot just below my ear. He bit down briefly before darting his tongue out to soothe the area from his assault. I moaned breathlessly and gripped his shoulders, needing something to stabilize myself.
Felix's hands dug into my hair, pulling at my scalp and eliciting a whine from my throat. "Felix, please. I want you."
He withdrew his face from where it was settled in the crook of my neck and appraised me with blown-out pupils. "Are you sure? You've been through a lot tonight, love and-"
"Felix, I need you." I interrupted, echoing his words from earlier. My desperation oozed off me as I stared at him, wide-eyed and pleading.
Felix was quiet for a moment before he nodded and traced a finger over my bottom lip. "Ok, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of my girl."
He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine agonizingly slow. I tilted my chin up, attempting to close the small gap between us, and he chuckled under his breath.
"Such a desperate girl."
Before I could reply, Felix firmly pressed his lips to mine, causing my thoughts to evaporate. My tongue slipped easily into his mouth, resulting in him groaning lowly. The sound traveled right to the spot between my legs that throbbed with immense need. I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him closer. But even with Felix tightly against me, I still craved more. I drew back just enough to grasp the top button of his shirt. "Off," I commanded.
With a lazy grin, Felix stepped back and nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. He took his time shedding the material, and my eyes drank him in each second he revealed more of his toned chest.
Once his shirt hit the floor, Felix reached for his belt buckle. The clang of metal caused my legs to snap shut and my thighs to rub together in search of friction. Felix raised a brow at me. "My needy girl looks like she's going to cum just sitting there."
I pouted at him and reached my hand out." I wanna to do it."
Felix stared at my fussing nature before approaching me so I could touch him. "Ok, baby. You can do it. Be a good girl and unbuckle my belt."
I ruefully smiled as I wrapped my hands around the brown leather, tugging it away from his waist. I then made quick work of unzipping his jeans and dragging them down his thighs before he took over and kicked them off so they joined his shirt's place on the floor.
My eyes grazed Felix's body in silent reverence. I was convinced he wasn't a human but, instead, a Greek God carved meticulously from stone; he had no flaw in sight. I lightly raked my hands down his chest before he took hold of them and placed them in my lap. I was momentarily confused before he began fiddling with the hem of my top. Then, his intentions became clear.
Felix pulled my shirt over my head, and he immediately gaped at my breasts that were spilling out of my bra. He wasted no time in ripping it off and tossing it aside.
"Beautiful," he murmured before he leaned forward and used his tongue to swirl over my right nipple.
"Oh my God," I breathed, raising my hand to curl around Felix's neck, urging him to continue.
Felix dragged his tongue along my chest, between my breasts, and down my stomach until he reached the top of my skirt.
"Stand up, love."
I groaned in protest before Felix harshly twisted one of my nipples. My core pulsed painfully as my eyes widened in surprise.
"Let's get one thing straight," Felix said, placing a hand under my chin so I had no choice but to meet his stern gaze. "When I give a command, I expect obedience. Do you understand?"
With glazed-over eyes, I nodded my head. Felix observed me as he ran his tongue over his lips. "That's what I thought. So be a good girl and stand up."
"Yes, sir."
The words left my mouth before I realized it, and Felix's face darkened. "Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me."
I rose to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. He grabbed my hips, turned me around, and placed a hand on my back, pushing my upper body down. My cheek met his soft comforter as I felt my skirt ride up.
"I think this is in the way," Felix drawled as he eased down the zipper of my skirt and pulled the garment from my body. I turned to see his reaction as he took in the black lace panties I wore, the only clothing I had left.
A string of curses left his mouth before he delivered a sharp slap to my ass that left behind a stinging sensation. I buried my face in his bedding and pushed my hips back.
Felix pulled my panties to the side, and I felt cool air hit my pussy. "You're fucking drenched, and I haven't even touched you yet," He said, running a finger through my slick folds. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"
My arousal began dripping down my legs, and I moaned when I felt his tongue begin to lap it up. He licked up my legs and stopped right at my glistening entrance.
"Felix, please," I whined.
"I know, darling, I know," he mumbled, placing his hands on my ass and spreading me open. A soft cry left my mouth at being so exposed, but it was apparent I loved it due to the juices that ran from my pussy.
Felix's tongue drew tight circles over my clit, and I couldn't stop the whimpers that left my mouth. He eased his finger past my swollen lips, and I clenched around his thick digit.
"Fuck me, please, I begged.
"If you want me to fuck you, you need to first cum on my face, Ok?"
Felix's words made my brain short-circuit, so I only nodded in response. He tutted at my reaction before withdrawing his finger and slapping my pussy. "Use your words, darling. What do you say?"
"Yes, sir," I cried.
Seemingly satisfied, Felix lightly pinched my sensitive bud between his fingers as he started fucking me with his tongue. I gripped his sheets tightly as if they were my lifeline.
"So good," I mewled loudly. It occurred to me that I should probably be quiet on account of the other people living in this building, but the faster Felix's tongue worked in and out of my pussy, the less I cared about who heard.
"Are you going to cum for me, love?" Felix asked, replacing his mouth with his fingers. Two of them eased into my sopping core and curled down, hitting a spot that had me practically sobbing my answer.
"Yes, sir."
Right as I came, Felix introduced his tongue back into my opening and fucked me through my climax. His thumb roughly worked my overstimulated clit as I gushed all over his face. Felix wasted no time in lapping up my juices, and I couldn't miss the way he groaned in appreciation when doing so.
"Such a good girl, cumming all over my face, just like I told you to."
Felix's tongue lazily traced my entrance, but my overwhelmed state caused my legs to give out. I was thankful when he caught me.
"It's Ok, darling. I've got you," he said soothingly as he picked me up and gently laid me down on his bed. My head hit his pillow, and I gave a small sigh of contentment.
"Oh no. Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet." Felix said, leaning over me. His gold chain dangled in front of my face, and I watched it slowly swing back and forth, entranced.
I snapped back to the present when Felix's fingers wrapped around the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs. He threw them over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on me.
"Do you know how long I've thought about this? Having you naked in my bed, looking up at me with those big eyes, just begging me to ruin you."
"Then do it, Felix. Ruin me."
My reply had him peeling his black boxers off of his body and revealing his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum. He stroked himself a few times before reaching across the bed and searching his nightstand's top drawer. He pulled out a small, silver package, but I plucked it from his hold, surprising him.
"No, I want to feel you," I whispered.
Felix hesitated. "Are you sure? I know we're both clean, but-"
"Felix, I want to feel you, even when you cum. Especially when you cum."
My face heated at my admission, but I'd used my fingers to fuck myself too many times, thinking of Felix driving into me, raw and deep, before cumming right at the edge of my cervix, claiming me completely.
"Jesus," Felix breathed, closing his eyes. "You're going to make me cum before I'm even inside you."
I bit my lip as I watched him spread my legs and stare at pussy, hopelessly clenched around nothing.
"What a pretty cunt. All wet and swollen. Just begging to be stretched with my cock."
Felix lined himself up at my entrance, nudging my clit and causing me to whine impatiently. I bucked my hips, silently pleading for him to fuck me.
Finally, he entered me in a long thrust; I turned my head from side to side as unintelligible words left my mouth. I knew his size was impressive, but nothing could have prepared me for how my walls stretched to accommodate him.
"It's Ok, sweet girl. I know," Felix said as he circled my clit, giving me pleasure to combat the pain.
"You're so big," I cried, breathless.
"But you can take it, darling. You can take it for me."
Felix's praise caused me to squeeze around him, and I watched his face tense. "So fucking tight, "he groaned. "So fucking perfect for me."
After being able to take all of Felix without much discomfort, he slowly drew out before thrusting back in. My back arched, and he took the opportunity to pinch one of my nipples. I mindlessly moaned and wrapped my legs around his waist so I could take him deeper.
Felix soon found a steady rhythm in which he fucked me. Our cries clashed in the air, and through my hazy vision, I threaded my hands in his hair, dragging his mouth down to mine. Our tongues danced together in a passionate kiss, and it only drove me higher toward my inevitable orgasm.
"I'm close," I gasped.
Felix smirked, driving into me harder. "Yeah? You gonna come around my cock, sweetheart?"
I openly wept as Felix wrapped a hand around my neck, applying pressure to just the right spot.
"God, you're just fucked dumb, aren't you? My girl only knows my cock and nothing else."
"Please," I cried. It wasn't a descriptive word, but Felix understood what I needed.
The pressure around my neck increased, causing a light-headed sensation. Felix pressed his other hand on my lower stomach, causing my eyes to roll back and my mouth to hang open.
"That's it, pretty girl. You're doing so well. You're gripping me like a fucking vice."
Felix's words drove me over the edge. My cry was guttural, and I clenched around him, causing him to omit a low groan as he reached his own climax. He thrust in one final time, coating my walls with his seed in thick, hot ropes.
Eyes closed, I fell into a satiated state. My body was numb, yet I could feel every single nerve ending. I was barely awake as Felix pulled out, whispering soft words of praise the entire time. "You did so good for me, my love. I'm so proud of you."
As I registered his words, a faint smile crossed my lips. I glowed under Felix's compliments.
I heard him walk around his room before feeling him spread my legs. But this time, it was to clean me up with a towel.
Eventually, a blanket was draped over my body, and Felix pulled me against him in a warm embrace. I rested comfortably on his chest; his steady heartbeat was the perfect lullaby that lulled me to sleep.
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chapter index
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
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66 with shaymien please
number 66 on the spreadsheet is from this list of prompts the prompt you generated in specific is: drawing circles and patterns on their chest
linked on ao3 || read under the cut || 6.3k, rated E
summary:
[ Tweet from Damien Haas @DamienHaas on Dec 7, 2023 at 6:27pm reading: "Hey y'all, I know it's a streaming night, but I've been a very lucky fellow with some really cool stuff going on this week and am therefore extremely tired. Think it's best I listen to my (actually kinda dizzy at this point) body and sit this one out. 😬👍" ] || or, shayne comes to check on damien.
Check your front door. It's a text from Shayne, so honestly, it's not as weird as it could be. He's just standing in his kitchen and trying to make himself focus for long enough to make himself something actually good to eat and not just order takeout for the third time this week, so it's not like the front door checking is interrupting anything important. Still, he takes his time making it through the apartment, not rushing in the hopes of not aggravating his already irritated joints. This always happens when he doesn't sleep enough. He overdoes it and then his body tells him all about it like he wasn't there the whole time. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
It's never easy to remind himself that he's just an animal. That he's doing his best. He pulls open the door to something he does not expect for some reason, like Shayne's mother-henning ass hasn't always been like this. Virgo man motherfucker. Psychology degree asshole. Damien hates how warm and cared for the hovering always makes him feel, how it makes him feel so close to something that he still doesn't know how to ask Shayne for, even as long as they've been friends.
He leans against the door frame, tired but as happy to see Shayne as he always is. "What are you doing here, Shayne?" he asks, not really harsh but not as nice a tone he would typically take with Shayne either. Guilt immediately stirs in Damien's stomach, but Shayne just pushes past him, not lingering on it in the slightest. He has two grocery bags hanging off his arm like a middle aged mother of three, his hip cocked out when he turns around to look at Damien completing the image. There's a moment of silent communication, Shayne looking at him with that irritating (incredible, incandescent, inspiring) optimism and Damien looking back with fatigue dripping from every piece and part of him.
"Dude, I'm sorry, but if you say on fucking Twitter that you're so tired you're dizzy, me not coming over is not how this is going to go down," Shayne says, shrugging his shoulders. He claps his hands together once and moves through Damien's apartment like he owns the place, no regard for whether Damien actually intended for him to stay or not. Something warm sits in Damien's chest at his insistence, but really, he can handle himself. It's been a good little while since he and Shayne lived together, and he's been totally fine. Mostly fine. Adequately fine.
He's gotten medicated and he thinks that's a good start.
"Shayne, you know I'm a grown up, right?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he follows his best friend into the kitchen, watching as he pulls groceries out of the two bags he brought in. This bastard. Shayne stacks comfort food after comfort food of Damien Haas onto the counter, almost exactly what Damien would have bought if he had energy to go to the store earlier. There are even some things he would have forgotten or just missed, little candies and a drink and a bag of chips that he loves but never would have occurred to him, but Shayne picked them out for him anyway. Embarrassingly enough, tears prick at the corners of Damien's eyes. Maybe he isn't as grown up as he thought; adults cry, adults cry, adults cry. When he sniffs, unable to help it, Shayne looks over from his bounty with concern.
"Hey, hey, bud, come here," he says gently, pulling Damien into his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. Damien can't fucking help it. He clings to Shayne and just starts sobbing, not really upset but just so fucking tired. He feels like a toddler, crying just because he's overwhelmed, but Shayne is just pulling him closer, making soothing sounds as he guides Damien over to his own couch. He's suddenly but viscerally glad that he has the apartment alone for the night. Shayne seeing him in this condition is bad enough, but anyone on this goddamn planet who isn't Shayne Robert Topp? So much fucking worse. Shayne has seen him through a twelve hour flight to Tokyo, through every bad phase he's had in his adult life, through struggle and thriving and everything between. Now, he cards his fingers through Damien's hair, sitting back against one of the arms of the couch with Damien so close he's almost in his lap.
"'m sorry," he says, muffled against Shayne's t-shirt. Shayne wraps his arms around him a little tighter, pulls him a little closer, and it's so fucking nice. Like how dogs with anxiety are given thunder vests. The thought startles a raspy giggle out of him, a sound like laughter went through the dishwasher.
"No need to be sorry," Shayne says, hands firm on Damien's back. "You should tell me what's funny, though. Letting me in on the joke always makes you feel a little better," he jokes, but honestly? It's true. A joke can be great, but it will always be better followed by Shayne's laughter. Even in public, he can't help the way he looks to make sure that Shayne laughs at things he says, can't help but tune his humor exactly to his best friend's tastes. They typically have a fairly similar sense of humor anyway, but there are some jokes he would never make without Shayne in the room, just because he knows that he could save it and make his best friend laugh so hard he cries. And that's awesome. Unlike the way that Damien is crying into his shoulder right now. Totally not awesome. He does this a lot, extracting himself from the situation mentally so that he can view it through a detached, analytical lens. His therapist says it's fairly typical for autistic adults. Still, Damien's body does not agree with the lack of attention that he'd like to give it. He makes himself fully tune back into Shayne.
"You're my thunder vest," he says nonsensically; it startles some giggles from Shayne anyway, a cute little snort too. Shayne is already being so nice to him, he shouldn't fuck it up by thinking of him like that. That's something that he's pushed down his entire adult life, he can push it down again now. Repress, reframe, repeat.
"Are you a Pomeranian having an anxiety attack?" Shayne asks, voice shot through with that tender humor, that tone he takes when he's trying to make Damien laugh for his own sake rather than for humor itself. He huffs a laugh against the side of Shayne's neck, hiding his face. He can feel himself returning to equilibrium, thankfully not lingering in that teary, fragile place that he can get stuck in sometimes. Mostly when he's overwhelmed. Shayne helps with that, though. Thunder vest.
"Nah, just a really tired dude. Pressure's still nice, though," Damien says, snuggling deeper against his best friend. Shayne rests a warm, steady hand on the back of his neck.
"You wanna get in bed with your weighted blanket and I'll come sit with you after I make you a little snack?" he suggests, making it abundantly clear that Damien's choice on the matter will be whatever they're doing tonight. They hadn't even planned to hang out tonight. Shayne is so ready to throw away his entire evening for this. For him. Damien makes a protesting noise.
"You're comfy," he says, his words so close to a whine that he's a little embarrassed. Shayne chuckles, the hand on the back of Damien's neck squeezing for just a second.
"What, you want me to come lay down with you?" Shayne asks, and it's obvious that he's joking, that this is a bit, but does Damien want that? Absolutely. He wants to be in bed with Shayne, he wants the comfort of Shayne holding him, he wants to fall asleep with Shayne's arms around him. He must tense, or flinch, or something, too tired to keep himself in check and masked, because Shayne pulls him up by the back of his neck, hauling him up just enough to look him in the eye. Still, Damien avoids eye contact. Shayne dips his head, just looking at Damien for a moment. "We can do that, you know. Nothing's stopping us," he says, still so fucking gentle, so quiet it's practically a whisper. Damien still can't make eye contact with him, gaze resting on the calming blue of Shayne's shirt. Everything about Shayne is calming to him. He just wishes he didn't need him so much.
"You don't have to," he says, fist balled in the bottom of Shayne's shirt. Shayne hums, smoothing a hand over his back.
"Well, I don't really have to do much of anything, but you've never been something I had to do, Damien," he says, brushing his lips over Damien's temple before he starts pushing him up, manipulating him physically to move if he can't do so verbally. A wet laugh cracks out of Damien as he gives into the direction, standing and offering a hand to Shayne to help him do the same. Shayne takes the help, keeping their hands linked as he leads Damien to his own bedroom, as if this isn't an apartment Damien could traverse with his fucking eyes closed. He follows anyway, because he would follow Shayne anywhere, and isn't that the truest thing about him, that dedication he's had to his best friend for his entire adult life. He and Shayne have been defined in relation to one another so many times over their years together, and while with most people, Damien minds, in this, he's settled. He's so fucking tired. He really does close his eyes for a long second before they reach his doorway.
"You don't have to," he repeats softly. Shayne turns to look at him, not releasing his hand but just looking at Damien, reading his face and his body language, reading all of these signs he knows better than anyone Damien's ever known. He lifts his free hand to Damien's face, palm warm against his cheek. Damien can't help leaning into it.
"I want to," Shayne says softly, sounding more like a reminder than anything, and really, it is. He knows that Shayne loves him. He knows that Shayne cares. He knows that Shayne wouldn't be here if Shayne didn't want to be, that it's always one hundred percent easier to do nothing than it is to do something, but still. Shayne's hand moves to the back of his neck. "How do you wanna do this, Dames? Your circus, your monkeys," he says; Damien snorts, unlacing their fingers to push at Shayne's chest. He stumbles back a little, the dramatic shithead, grinning at Damien as he sits on the edge of the bed. God, he cannot fucking look up at him like that. Sleepy eyed and ridiculously fond, Damien scratches his nails through the hair at the nape of Shayne's neck.
He clears his throat. It's never been easy to ask for what he wants. Shayne's hands are steady on his hips, too comforting for words. "Can I, um," he starts, stopping himself to clear his throat again. Shayne pulls on him a little, not enough to knock him at all, but enough to keep him in the moment. Damien's not sure he knows how to be anywhere else. "I wanna lay on your chest, dude. Is that, like. Is that cool?" he asks, his speech stunted and apparently his emotions too, fuck. Shayne's smile gets wider before it gets softer- he knows the look of Shayne Topp choosing kindness, and this is one of those times. Shayne lets go of him and lays back, kicking off his jeans before he's scooting up to the head of the bed and looking at Damien for his next cue. He looks pretty against Damien's pillows. Impatient with his hesitation, Shayne reaches for him.
"Come on, man, lay on me, let's do this," he says. Damien can't help laughing, tension breaking as he rids himself of his pants and kneels on the edge of the bed, lowering himself down over Shayne carefully. Shayne pulls at him, quick and confident where Damien's slow and hesitant, always compensating for one another whether they mean to or not. Damien curls his fingers in Shayne's shirt, the fabric soft between his fingers. Pulling Damien's weighted blanket over them, Shayne shuffles a bit til Damien is pulled close against his side, finally settling when their legs are slotted together, Damien's knee between his own. Between the warmth of Shayne beneath him and the weight of his blanket across his shoulders, Damien is probably the most comfortable he's been in weeks if not months if not years. He presses his face into Shayne's shoulder.
"Thank you," he says quietly, unable to make himself louder but needing to say it anyway. Shayne's arm tightens around his lower back briefly. Damien occupies himself drawing shapes on Shayne's chest, circles and patterns and just feeling the warmth there, feeling Shayne's heartbeat beneath his fingertips.
"Any time, Deem," Shayne whispers back, rubbing his hand across the small of Damien's back, rucking up his shirt a bit. Damien doesn't even mind the slight discomfort of the bunched fabric for the way Shayne's hand on his skin makes him feel. He doesn't know how to describe it, the absolute safety he feels with Shayne holding him like this and the undercurrent of electricity that flows through it, how the safety and the fog of attraction do not argue with one another in the slightest, but rather make Damien drowsy and comfortable, secure where he lay. He doesn't fall asleep immediately, rather floating in this comfortable place where the sound of Shayne's breathing is the only noise he needs. The fingers of his free hand have trailed just a bit under Shayne's shirt at the jut of his hip. His face hidden, his senses tuned almost completely out. He doesn't even recognize the comfortable arousal for what it is, pooling at the base of his spine.
He doesn't realize he's essentially dry humping his best friend until he's already doing it, and he couldn't say for sure how long he's been doing it, really. Fuck. Shayne catches him by the hip when Damien freezes, holding him in place. Damien's heart nearly stops in his chest. Leaning back a bit to face the music of this actually able to see one another's face, he starts to try to pull back even more, equal parts not wanting to make Shayne uncomfortable and sure he already has. He's held in place with a firmer grip.
"No, can I-" Shayne starts, big blue eyes looking up at Damien with so many emotions it's like a kaleidoscope of sky and sea. "I wanna take care of you," he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the back of Damien's shirt. It's only with the touch of skin on skin that Damien even understands what he's saying, blinking rapidly. Oh. Oh? Oh. Damien clears his throat, gaze locked somewhere to the left of Shayne's face.
"You really do not have to do that," Damien says, too afraid that this is just another thing that Shayne would be willing to do for him but not strong enough to tell him no outright. Shayne's hand is on his jaw again. Fuck.
"I really want to," he breathes, kissing Damien softly on the mouth. If they were younger, maybe this would have been a surprise. Maybe he would have freaked out and shot out of bed and not spoken to Shayne for a couple of days, maybe if they were younger, he would press Shayne into the mattress and take care of this himself, but. They're older now, and even if neither of them really feel fully grown, the growing they have done has been with each other in mind, and Damien relaxes into Shayne so reflexively, so naturally. There's something about your best friend that will always make you feel safe with your heart in their hands. Their kiss is gentle and slow, Shayne's hand holding him steady and Damien's eyes close, safe. It's so fucking safe. The hand on his back pulls Damien forward a bit, just enough to rock his pelvis against his best friend's hip and holy fuck.
"Shayne," he says raggedly, breaking the kiss to hide his face in Shayne's shoulder. Shayne guides him forward again, Damien going willingly this time. He can't help the soft whine that tears itself out of his throat at the new contact, desperate to rut against Shayne's hip til he cums, but too embarrassed to just... reach out and take what Shayne is offering. When Shayne next speaks, his mouth close to Damien's ear, the deep rumble of his voice makes him shudder.
"Go ahead, Dames. Come on," he urges him, pulling Damien to roll his hips forward again; Damien sinks his teeth into Shayne's shoulder through his shirt, not really a choice but an instinct, a desire he simply cannot push down. Shayne gives him a pleased little noise, not quite a moan and not a hum either, really. He encourages Damien forward again, pulling him in like getting Damien off is just as good for him as it is for Damien himself. Damien resettles the weight of his hips, making himself more able to grind his thigh against Shayne's crotch. The other man keens, high and clear, and there's no way Damien can keep going under these conditions.
"Dude, you're gonna make me cum both touching me and sounding like that," he teases, lazy grin pressed against Shayne's skin.
"Are you sure? I could finger you open, fuck you to sleep," Shayne offers, his surely lascivious smile painting the words even dirtier than they are. Damien groans, even his arousal tinted with laughter when it's with Shayne. Holy shit.
"Jesus fucking Christ, yeah, we're definitely doing that at some point in the future, but I don't know if-" he cuts himself off, not really sure why he doesn't want to, but just that he doesn't. He's looking up at him when Shayne's expression softens and he busses a kiss across Damien's temple, pulling him forward gently again. He kisses Damien's head again, hands so careful on his skin, like Damien is delicate, like Damien is precious. He rolls his hips slow, almost tentative, like Damien wasn't the one who started this. Damien's fingers curl in Shayne's shirt; Shayne pushes him up a bit for a second, whipping off his shirt before pulling Damien back down. Immediately overwhelmed by all of the freshly available skin, Damien does the first thing that comes to mind: again, he bites. The muscle of Shayne's peck is fucking satisfying between his teeth, the noise Shayne makes even more so. Even as tired as he is, desperation pulls at Damien, not just to feel good himself but to make Shayne feel good, to be the reason his boy makes those noises.
"Oh fuck, good. Good, Dames. Take what you need," Shayne coaxes him. Heat shoots through Damien at the praise, the encouragement, all of it. He wasn't even really aware that was something he liked partners to give him, really. Praise has never been high on the priority list. From Shayne, it makes pre-cum spill into his boxers. He ruts against Shayne til his breath comes short, Shayne's hand firm on the back of his neck. So turned on, and sleepy, and comfortable, and safe, Damien trails his fingers beneath the waistband of Shayne's, pausing for long enough to look him in the eye.
"Can I?" he asks. His voice breaks a little, lust shot through it. Shayne hums, pulling off his own boxers and then raising an eyebrow at Damien, fingers hooked in to take Damien's off as well. Damien nods, and Shayne follows through immediately, such is his nature. He guides Damien out of his shirt as well, quick and efficient. He's never known Shayne to disappoint him, to take any more time than was needed. With that said, he doesn't expect a calloused hand to wrap around his cock immediately, thumbing over the head with practiced ease.
"Jesus, baby boy," Damien says, halfway between a gasp and a whimper, embarrassing if Damien gave a single fuck right now at this moment with his cock leaking in Shayne's hand, feeling so good and calm and taken care of that there are tears pricking at his eyes again. Shayne cups the back of his head, fingernails scratching through Damien's hair a little harder than before, enough to make Damien press into it.
"You sound so pretty, Deem. Come on, baby. Take what you need. You're doing so good," Shayne praises, coaxing and encouraging and so, so sweet. Affection drips from him like making Damien cum is just another way to take care of him, and maybe it is. Maybe all they've been doing for years is taking care of one another, maybe Damien loves Shayne more than he's ever loved anybody in his life, maybe Shayne is so deeply beneath his skin that Damien doesn't know where he ends and Shayne begins. Damien drops his head to lean against Shayne's collarbone, hot breath fanning across Shayne's chest is as he thrusts into Shayne's hand, shivers rolling down his spine in droves.
"Shayne," he says brokenly, his voice coming more ragged by the second. Shayne lets go of his dick and Damien can't help the whine that follows, though it turns quickly into a moan as Shayne pulls at him, encouraging him to continue rubbing off against his best friend. The syrupy pleasure of it makes Damien's head feel more thick with sleep rather than lessening its hold on him. Still, he grinds down against Shayne as well, never a selfish lover, but Shayne redirects his motion.
"I'll take care of me later, okay? Let me take care of you right now," he whispers, fingers carding through Damien's hair. Damien blinks down at him, head tilted toward the side and motion stopping all together. "You're tired, Deem. You'll get a chance to touch me, but this is about you. Let me make this about you, okay?" he requests, and how can Damien deny him anything? He tucks his face against Shayne's throat and rolls his hips, obediently losing any and all focus to the sensation of thrusting against Shayne's skin. Shayne's nails dig into his scalp a little harder, reflexive, and Damien bites down on Shayne's shoulder, reactionary. A soft, pleased noise falls from Shayne's mouth and then there's a kiss pressed to Damien's hair, that one spot of innocent affection in the middle of all of this sex and friction sending Damien right off that deep end.
He knows that Shayne is praising him and rubbing his back, hands careful on his skin, but Damien feels a million miles away. Love, love, love beats a tattoo in his chest, overwhelming and cosmic, so overwhelming in fact that it rolls back around to feel like the most natural thing in the world. He pulls Shayne in for a desperate kiss, starting to get a little bit overstimulated but not enough to stop, not enough to know better. Even coming down from the high of cumming on his best friend, Damien knows that this was not the solution to making him more able to actually get to sleep. The need to touch Shayne is buzzing beneath his skin, thick and heavy, obvious and reckless, and Damien presses down onto Shayne with a gentle kiss to his mouth, enthusiastic but careful. Shayne sighs against his mouth, lacing his fingers in Damien's hair. Damien gives him another kiss, but ultimately pulls back to look at Shayne's face.
Shayne tries to push himself back to get up, but Damien grabs onto him, not entirely on purpose but not really an accident either. Shayne raises an eyebrow at him. "I want-" he stumbles over his words, unable to make himself just be honest, even when Shayne so obviously just wants to make him happy. He pushes his face into Shayne's shoulder, sure that the other man is getting impatient with him, but Shayne just cups his face, pulling him in to give him such a fucking gentle look.
"What do you want, Dames? Anything you want," Shayne promises softly, not breaking eye contact with Damien. He can feel his face going red, and he knows that he's flustered and embarrassed, but it's what he wants. He wants to be able to tell Shayne what he wants. He clears his throat.
"Can we, um. I've thought about something, like. A lot. Like at least once every time we've ever sat on a bed together maybe, a lot," he says, finally able to externalize some of it but still unable to look Shayne in the eye for more than a split second at a time. "I'm exhausted. But keyed up. So I'm probably not going to be able to sleep yet so," he pauses again, distracted as Shayne's fingers card through his hair. Though, that's probably just an excuse. "When you're sitting back against the headboard of a bed, reading or what the fuck ever it is that you do," he says as if he's not the most informed person on what the fuck Shayne does at all times, "I want to put my head in your lap. And. Your dick in my mouth. And. Suck your dick but like slow? I'm explaining this really badly, dude."
"Baby, that's called cockwarming, and we can definitely do that," Shayne says with a grin, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks up at Damien.
"Oh, he knows the word for it," Damien teases, happy to be back in the sphere where he and Shayne tease each other. He wants the sex, and he even wants the romance if Shayne wants it too, but he doesn't want either if their friendship would be the collateral. Shayne smiles back, kissing Damien's cheek as he pulls himself to sit back against the headboard as referenced. He leans over to grab the book he had left on Damien's bedside table last time he was in here. That probably should have been something of an indicator shouldn't it be? When was the last time a friend who isn't Shayne was in his room, let alone leaving their belongings in it? He knows that if he looked around, he'd only be able to find more of Shayne's belongings, certain things he owns that neither he nor Shayne are sure of the origin of anymore, and all of that is far too overwhelming to think too much about right at this moment, sleepy and finally getting something he's wanted a long, long time.
"Ian was into researching BDSM for a while, I got caught in the infodump," Shayne clarifies a few beats late, casual. Damien squints up at him.
"Never say Ian's name when I'm about to suck your dick ever again," he says, wrinkling his nose for dramatic effect. It doesn't occur to him that he's just assumed this is going to become part of their relationship, not a one time affair, until after it's already come out of his mouth. He doesn't even have time to start spilling apologies in a deluge, conscious of being presumptuous, because Shayne just raises an eyebrow at him, hands holding and stroking Damien's face between them. The affectionate attention makes it easier to relax, Damien's blinks coming slower, his somewhat elevated heartbeat coming back down from the high. Shayne gives a breathless little chuckle, adorable, and Damien can't help the open adoration he looks up at him with.
"You just said his name when you're about to suck my dick, so really, equal offense," he says, rubbing his thumb over Damien's bottom lip. It presses just a bit and Damien drops his mouth open, allowing the digit to rest on his tongue. It's not what Damien wants, but it still feels far too soon when Shayne pulls it out.
"Shayne." It comes out as a whine, Damien's patience running thin when all he wants it right in front of him and he just... needs Shayne to tell him to actually do it. For some reason. Consent maybe? He's already expressed being okay with this, but it still feels like Damien should wait. Shayne smiles down at him, his expression soft as he runs his fingers through Damien's hair. He guides Damien forward and down, gentle as he controls the pace at which Damien takes him down his throat. That is what he wanted. Everything's already gaining a fuzzy softness, all of his senses tuning down to this one sensation, this one thing. One of Shayne's hands stays resting heavy at the nape of his neck, the other moved to genuinely read his fucking book. He doesn't think this is weird. He doesn't think Damien is weird for wanting this. He's just reading his book. He lets go of a tension he didn't realize he was keeping, his shoulders dropping and a slow breath blown out through his nose. Shayne's nails are dull scratching through the hair beneath them.
"Good, Dames. You're so pretty like this. All sweet and relaxed. So good for me," Shayne murmurs. Damien closes his eyes, swallowing around Shayne's cock reflexively. Shayne's fingers flex in his hair. There's a sweet little gray space that Damien wasn't aware existed in his mind; it envelopes him now, warm and calm, the world only lit by the lamp at his bedside and the world itself small, centered in his best friend's lap. Everything is smaller like this. Calmer. His eyes slide shut. Damien couldn't even hazard a guess as to how long they stay like that, how long he lays between Shayne's knees rapturous, at peace. Shayne's always been his safe place to land. This feels so much like an extension of that idea that he isn't sure what they had been doing in the first place.
Shayne starts reading to him somewhere in the middle of the book, at no specific marker in the story or in the passage of time that Damien can puzzle out. He doesn't want to attribute it to the fact that Damien had been getting somewhat restless, hands bracing Shayne's lower back and nails digging into his skin every once in a while. The sounds of his voice is soothing; it's some old Russian classic, maybe, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky or maybe Chekhov. He's seen the book probably a hundred times, but past registering that it was Shayne's, he hasn't really looked at it much. For this, he's glad that he never picked the book up. The characters' stories mean absolutely nothing to him because he doesn't know who Kostya and Kitty even are, let alone what they're doing, so his thoughts aren't getting snagged on trying to follow the story.
It's just Shayne. He's getting sleepy again, but he doesn't want to go to sleep without making Shayne cum. It's not even the theoretical idea of reciprocation. He knows without discussion that Shayne wouldn't hold it against Damien if he wanted to go to sleep right now. He just wants Shayne's cum in his mouth, really. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, bobbing his head just once before waiting for Shayne's response. Shayne hums, fingers flexing in his hair again before he removes his hand entirely. When Damien opens his eyes to look up at him, Shayne is putting a bookmark in his book, setting it back on the bedside table before returning his gaze to Damien, his hand following quickly to cup Damien's jaw. Damien leans into it but doesn't pull off. Shayne hums again.
"Getting sleepy again?" he asks softly, thumb stroking over Damien's cheekbone. It's barely even a question, really, so Damien just swallows around his dick as a response, figuring it will communicate enough of a message to get his point across. To Shayne, at least. Anybody else and Damien would never have gotten here in the first place, but especially he wouldn't have gotten here in so few words. "You wanna get me off before going to sleep, huh?" his companion asks, this one even less of a question than the one before, but Damien hums in agreement anyway. Shayne chuckles, not something that Damien can actually physically feel, but still enough to make his heart flutter in his chest. The weight of approval is heavy on his shoulders, comforting. Weighted blanket. Shayne strokes his fingers through Damien's hair. "Go ahead, baby."
It's the third time that Shayne has called him that. He's surprised by how much he likes it.
He clears his mind by coming most of the way off of Shayne's dick, playing with the head with his tongue in slow, broad strokes. Shayne groans, his head listing back against the wall above the headboard. Damien digs his tongue into his slit and drops down, taking Shayne all the way down to the root in one fluid movement. Shayne's fingers are laced in his hair again, loose fist just barely pulling. Damien hums, reaching a hand up to press on the one on his head. Shayne grips his hair tighter, pulling tentatively and then much more confidently as it brings embarrassing noises from Damien's throat. The weight of Shayne in his mouth is only made better when Shayne's hips twitch up, just a little bit of pressure on Damien's head keeping him in place as Shayne hits the back of his throat. The sensation makes him choke a little, but it's fucking hot too, Shayne losing that little bit of control to the heat of Damien's mouth enough to have him whining and moaning, desperate to please. Fuck.
"You're so fucking good for me. Gonna make me cum, Dames," Shayne breathes out, a warning that only makes Damien redouble his efforts. Shayne grabs the back of his head, holding Damien in place as he thrusts up into Damien's mouth once, twice, three times before he's shooting hot down Damien's throat. Damien groans and holds Shayne and his cum in his mouth for a second, not wanting to give up the feeling yet. Shayne's fingers stroke through his hair, gentle again, and he did not need to know that this is a way Shayne can be in bed. Certainly not on their first time. This hot and cold of gentle and rough is making him actually dizzy now, not even hyperbolically dizzy but dizzy, in the best way possible. Once he's sufficiently calmed, he swallows down the cum, pulling off of Shayne's dick. Shayne pulls him up and kisses him on the mouth before the taste is off Damien's tongue, pulling him in to taste it for himself.
"Thank you," Damien says as he pulls away from the kiss, not exactly sure what he's thanking him for but grateful all the same. His nose is pressed against Shayne's collarbone, knees on either side of the other man's hips. Shayne pulls him even closer, dropping kisses across Damien's shoulder chastely.
"You did so good, Dames. Love you. Love you so much," Shayne repeats before gentle kisses, his words so comfortable that it doesn't even reek of confidence, but rather a sense of being at ease. He wouldn't be able to count how many times he's heard those words come out of Shayne's mouth, and this time is no different than all the rest, really. Maybe they're doing different things now, loving each other another way, but the love he feels for Shayne? That's been star bright and distracting in the corner of his version for nearly his entire adult life. That's his best friend. Everything else is window dressing.
"Love you," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of Shayne's throat. Shayne presses another kiss to his skin before leaning over to grab a wet wipe from Damien's bedside table; of course he knows where Damien keeps his fucking wet wipes. Have a chronic nosebleed thing and suddenly a guy knows where you keep the stuff you use to clean up blood. Now, there's an air of reverence to Shayne as he wipes away the cum on Damien's stomach, on his own hip, and when he catches Damien looking at him during his perfunctory sweep over Damien's cock, he grins, closing his hand around Damien loosely. He chuckles when Damien lists against his collarbone, a whimper small but detectable coming from the back of his throat. He finishes wiping both of them off and throws the wet wipe into the trash. Damien catches his mouth in a quick kiss. Well, it was intended to be quick, but Shayne is as thorough in this as he is in everything else. Damien can't help grinning as he peppers kissing on Shayne's face, giggles pouring out of both of them. Shayne slips a hand in his hair and holds Damien still, just looking at him.
"I love you," he says again, kissing Damien just once before pulling back again. "Food or sleep, baby? If you just wanna take a nap, I can set an alarm," Shayne offers, shrugging his shoulders. Damien hums, leaning forward to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him again and again. The taste of Shayne's smile beneath his tongue is the sweetest thing to ever cross Damien's lips. Besotted doesn't even begin to cover it. He feels like he's floating. He feels the most settled he's ever been.
"Snacks and blankets in the living room? A movie, maybe?" Damien suggests, resting his temple against Shayne's as they breathe one another's air. Shayne hums in the affirmative, another kiss gentle on Damien's mouth.
"Anything you want, Dames. Anything you want."
#mine#shaymien#shayne#damien#rpf#prompt filled#spreadsheet fill#smosh fic#hope you like it !!#thank u for prompting me <33333#ask answered#anonymous
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Reflection on my practice (for future me)
Hello, so I wanted to do write what has been my practice so far for future me to read and reflect, I discover a lot for myself, so this might be long so please sit and relax.
Catholicism
I grew up Roman Catholic for most of my life, living and breathing on those values, going to Catholic school and going to church but it doesn't really have an affect for me, I didn't feel connected to Catholicism, so I was semi atheist (I didn't know that Agnostic exist) for most of my early teenage years until I was in grade 10, where I was kinda chilling in class, I wasn't interested with the subject so I just pulled out my phone and thought it would be fun to search on tumblr about witchcraft and it really interested me. Everything about it looked fun and maybe I wanted to dipped my toes in the water. Later on I created an account specifically for that! I enjoyed it as a newbie liking the vibes and looked to find Paganism
Kemeticism
Anyone who followed 15-16 year old me will remember I was a Kemetic pagan, I worshipped Anubis and Ra (Along with Heru-Sa-Aset) but I was close to Anubis, I prayed to him after my dog died which did started my path to paganism where I now just denounce myself silently as a Catholic. I prayed and gave him offerings that I have access to and just let him guide me to cope. I started being open to my practice to my friends as well which they all really support! I never said anything to my family knowing what they believe was that I'm just catholic.
I really do thank Anubis and the gods I did pray for those hardships of my own mistakes and leading me to comfort even when I'm arrogant. It inspired me to admire history more that I ever did, I wanted to read more about old religions, I wanted to just eat every single information I can find tiring to be the best version of what I should do and value.
Hellenism and Athena
I've already told this but I wasn't Kemetic pagan anymore now, I adored Anubis but it felt like my time of mourning had passed and it felt like I might have to part my ways with Kemeticism. Its a beautiful religion and the people there are lovely! but I just don't follow it as a follower anymore and I was called to Hellenism.
I wasn't gonna lie and say Hellenism didn't intimidate me, it did, I knew to never take the myths literally for me to not act dumb but there were a lot of things I had to learn now that I wasn't following Kemeticism. I wasn't sure who to look, well, for a bit until I settled with Athena which makes sense.
Listen, I am a girl that loved the greek monsters, dragons, drawing, and war history, of course I'm gonna pray to Athena!
I felt like she was the goddess for me and later became the kinda the only goddess I prayed for when it comes to tests and being strong. Sometimes I don't do prayers because of school and my own laziness, I'm happy that she's patient with me and a tarot reading by a friend, where I asked "What's Athena thinking about me? I haven't done much for her..." "Talk to me more! and stop procrastinating!"
Is just... I STILL THINK ABOUT IT LIKE OH SWEET GODDESS THANK YOU BUT ALSO DON'T CALL ME OUT😭😭😭😭/j
But I really do thank her for that, it's just so sweet for me to know she is around even when I'm not always acknowledging her.
Now and future
I think one, buy a fucking tarot deck for myself and just talk more, sometimes when no one is around I just talk out of no where to her which I see as my baby steps to coming back since last and the early months I was pretty dry on my worship and practice. This summer I hope I can read history books and just talk about it to her, start doing divination and do something about that rain water from one year ago lmao.
I think this year will be witchy and pagan for me! I'm excited for shenanigans to ensue with my irl witch friends!
And I will say it again, thank you to the deities I worshipped before and now for guiding me to where I am now, no matter how chaotic it is, you're there for me.
So for future me, let's do this!!!!!
#athena deity#lady athena#athena devotee#athena devotion#pagan#paganism#paganblr#witch#witchcraft#witchblr#hellenism#hellenic pagan#hellenic polytheism#hellenic paganism#owl's little witch adventures#erin's pagan diary#owl's stuff
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in-soft-grass, this au is for you
it's also for me and everyone else i know that likes vampires, but specifically for you bc you inspired it
--
VAMPIRE AU
ok so basically, it's what i think would happen if kaisei was a vampire and like. how he became one and how he ends up meeting ciro (who is a vampire hunter), and like. all that good stuff.
i did watch interview with a vampire (2023?) on recommendation of a friend and i Liked certain parts of it, so if some elements sound familiar, well. you know why lol.
OK LETS GET INTO THIS
--
it starts out during the turn of the century. kaisei is an odd-job worker who picks up work to help take care of his mom (whom took care of him his whole life by herself and is now older and declining in health).
one evening he decides to stop by a tavern. normally he avoids places like this because they do nothing but suck the money and time out of you, but he's so tired and just wants to see some of the few friends he knows frequent this particular establishment.
it's here that he meets a man named yakumo 👀
and yeah this is the whole "i was inspired" bit where they spend time together and they start to fall in love. kaisei definitely feels like what they have is special, and yakumo does too...
but he rushes into things a bit too much.
he divulges his identity as a vampire, and begs kaisei to become one too so they can spend eternity together.
really romantic, right?
yeah, well. as touched as kaisei is by this, he is 1) a little freaked out by having fallen in love with a bloodthirsty monster, and 2) even if he gets over that, he has friends! he has a mom he's taking care of, he can't abandon her!
but things change when he can't seem to find work anymore, nobody is willing to take him on. his friends drift away faster than ever as he no longer has a connection with them through mutual jobs.
and then the worst of all, his mom dies.
it's the last straw, and surrounded by abandonment and grief, kaisei agrees to be turned so he can spend the rest of forever with at least one person who won't leave him.
(oh kaisei, i'm so sorry, yakumo is not any better in this au. in fact, did you ever wonder, kaisei, why you stopped getting jobs and your buddies abandoned you? how your mom, even though her health wasn't stellar, sharply declined? huh. interesting.)
still thinking about the reasoning, but yeah. yakumo is okay for a few years and tries to love him as best he can, but eventually feels suffocated having to take of kaisei, and is overwhelmed by the prospect of eternity. he can't seem to understand that this (kaisei being dependent on him to traverse being an undead bloodsucker) will not last forever, though the years that fly by so quickly make him feel otherwise. he starts doing things in an attempt to push kaisei away, but the fact of the matter is that he is all kaisei has left. there isn't anything he wouldn't do or put up with that would keep him from following yakumo to the ends of the earth.
he is all he has left in this world.
and yet, one day, kaisei wakes up to an empty house.
nothing in the stillness but a single note with his name, inside of it an "I'm sorry" and a pitiful amount of money.
nothing is left in kaisei but a shattered heart.
--
kaisei attempts to make ends meet on his own, but it's difficult finding work when you can only meet with people at night, even if the prospected job is performed in the wee hours. he resorts to feeding on small animals, beings that won't be missed, in order to avoid attracting attention from humans.
he can afford some kind of roof over his head, but in all honesty, kaisei is fucking miserable.
his stability in life, his mother, is dead and buried. the people he once called friends have all grown old and died, never even knowing what happened to him. and the man he threw his humanity away for ended up abandoning him when he was needed most.
it's decades later, i'm thinking 70's, and one night when kaisei is wandering the streets before dawn on his way 'home',
he's stopped by a man with a gun pointing to his head.
...yeah, it's ciro 😔
while not his target, ciro is not one to pass an opportunity to rid the world of one more monster if he can. this monster however, straightens up to press the gun barrel against his head and, accepts? the fate of death?
ciro is baffled by this response.
he's used to these monsters pleading for him to spare their life, not asking him to end it without even saying a word.
ciro figures if this vampire isn't going to fight him, he might as well try to get some info out of him, if possible. he asks if he knows a vampire named yakumo, and he can sense he's onto something when he watches kaisei bristle and the hands at his sides clench into fists.
Of course kaisei knows that mf'er. He's the whole reason kaisei is the monster he is now, doomed to live out eternity alone and miserable.
kaisei admits to knowing him, but doesn't know where he is. ciro decides the fact that kaisei has had some kind of contact with his target is useful, and lowers the gun.
at first i imagined this part being more dramatic, but knowing how defeated and tired kaisei probably is, he more likely turns around slowly and takes hold of the gun's barrel - Ciro wasn't quick with taking it away anyways - and points it back at himself.
"Please."
"Not while you can be useful to me."
Ciro pulls the gun away again, this time placing it in it's holster. He extends his hand back out, offering kaisei a deal.
"If you work with me, I'll keep you alive."
"What makes you think I want to live?"
"I think you want to know where that monster's at too."
kaisei stares resentfully at ciro, knowing he's right to some degree.
if he could see yakumo again, what would he say to him? would he ask why he abandoned him? would he apologize for something he doesn't even know he may have done? would he beg for him to bring him back into his life?
probably not those latter ones after so many years alone, but kaisei isn't sure of himself here.
He doesn't take the extended hand in his own, but nods and agrees to follow ciro anyways.
--
they end up back at a dingy, shady motel where ciro was staying (places like this are handy for a guy that travels around at night and doesn't need to be asked unnecessary questions like "why are you checking in so late?" or "why is there blood on your clothes?")
ciro tosses aside his coat and turns to see kaisei standing awkwardly in the doorway. He walks over, jabs a thumb towards the bathroom door and mutters, "you can sleep in the tub."
He mostly does this because there's a lock on the outside of the bathroom door (i meant it when i said shady motels), and he can keep kaisei locked in there to be safe. No, kaisei wouldn't hurt him, but ciro doesn't know him yet, and he'd rather be safe than sorry.
they go to sleep and when they wake up, they kind of hash out where they are going from here. ciro proposes he won't kill kaisei if he will to help him find yakumo. he also says he'll take kaisei along with him when he moves around to different places, but of course, there's the obligatory "if you try anything funny, you'll regret it" line.
Ciro lays out that Kaisei must sleep in the bathroom until he feels that he can trust him. Kaisei is just grateful to have a decent roof over his head, so he doesn't mind. He explains that he goes around during the day to take jobs and get information on targets while leaving the hunting for specific nights, so when one's asleep, the other will probably be out. Ciro also questions kaisei's feeding habits, to which kaisei responds with the whole "i don't feed on humans, only animals" thing, which is acceptable enough for the blondie.
At first, I think ciro takes some pity on kaisei and decides to just kind of let him do his own thing until he thinks kaisei is a little more comfortable around him. At that point, he asks kaisei to accompany him on his hunting jobs at night, to which kaisei kind of shrugs and admits he doesn't have much else to do anyways.
Ciro asks this after coming back at dusk one evening to see kaisei snuggled up in the bed. He was exhausted and thought he might have a little bit of time to indulge in an actual mattress before ciro returned to kick him out. The sight of the sleeping man makes ciro's heart clench, and all of the sudden he feels bad for forcing him to continue sleeping in locked bathrooms like some wild animal. So yeah, when ciro asks kaisei to join him, he also throws in there that they can take turns sleeping in the tubs when they are both in the room. kaisei kind of looks at him, before raising an eyebrow and saying, "why cant we share the bed?" Ciro blinks back, unaware of how warm his face was, and simply states that as long as kaisei doesn't kick him in his sleep, it shouldn't be a problem.
Some time passes, and they move around to different places and different motels. Ciro's main target of yakumo doesn't change, but in the meantime he does take up a few investigative and "removal" jobs. Imagine a fellow vampire's surprise when he shows up with kaisei, a vampire, to help exterminate them.
Which by the way, he isn't half bad at doing. With all the weird jobs kaisei has had throughout his life, killing other vampires isn't even the worst thing. He ignores the vampires pleas to stop, that they are one and the same. Kaisei does not give a shit - he is the way he is because the only vampire he'd ever known had lied to and abandoned him. Why should he care about the life of another lying, despicable creature?
With time as well, their relationship also evolves. It's not clear who started feeling differently about who first - is it kaisei who inches closer to ciro on those days with the curtains drawn and they share the bed, him searching for the warmth that ciro's living body gives off? Is it ciro who starts to think about how handsome his undead companion is in the moonlight after carrying out a successful job? It's hard to say, but...
Ciro is in fact the first to act on those feelings.
--
It's one evening that ciro returns to their room after gathering some information on their mutual silver-haired bastard, and he finds kaisei tinkering with some old kick knack he found in an alley (i would think after being alive for nearly a century, kaisei would be the type to pick up many little hobbies). In the blonde's hands is a paper bag, inside is a bottle of wine. He states that he acquired some promising intel, and wanted to celebrate.
"Can you drink wine? Or does it taste like shit to you now that you're dead?"
"It's been so long, I can't remember. Might as well see."
They each pour a glass, and in the dingy motel room, kaisei sits on a musty old couch while ciro sits in an armchair. With a few sips, Kaisei divulges that the wine in fact tastes like nothing - not good nor bad, but it might still be leaving its inebriating effects on him.
"Hm? How so?"
"I don't recall you looking quite so attractive."
Ciro tilts his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. He plays with one of the buttons on his already half undone shirt, pulling another through its little hole.
"I've got a question for you, vampire," he drawls, emerald eyes sliding down the purple haired man's body.
"If you're technically dead, can you still get it up?"
Kaisei fails to hide the way his breath hitches at that question.
"If I've had enough blood, I can."
The blonde sets his wine glass down on an end table, rises from the chair, and steps towards his companion on the couch. A few more pops of his buttons echo in the tiny room. In a few moments, he stands in front of kaisei and lifts his wrist over the vampire's wine glass.
"Go on. I want to make sure you have enough then."
Kaisei stares in awe up at him. Was Ciro really offering his own blood to him right now so they could fuck?
Before he can answer, the blonde pulls a pocket knife from his trousers. With one quick slide across his skin, blood drips from his arm into the wine glass in kaisei's hand. After he determines that should be enough, he pulls his wrist away, only for kaisei to catch it in his free hand and bring it to his lips. He licks the cut, and ciro is surprised not only by the action, but also that the wound stops bleeding after he pulls away from kaisei's mouth.
He momentarily forgot that vampire's saliva had congealing properties when used to heal a wound, a little distracted by the unbearable tension building between them.
"Well, try tasting it now. See if it's any better," he breathes out.
The vampire brings the glass to his mouth and drinks the remaining liquid in the cup. He pauses before answering, "It's sweet."
The lustful look in kaisei's half-lidded eyes looking up at him breaks ciro's self-control. He sits himself on kaisei's lap, taking his face in his hands and kissing him deeply. The wine glass is forgotten as kaisei grabs at ciro's waist, pulling him close and responding to the fervent kiss with his own desire. He pins him to the couch, laying on top of him and breaking the kiss only to whisper breathlessly,
"Are you sure?"
Ciro's eyes widen at what he believes to be an obvious question - what did he think the whole bloody wine trick was for?
"Of course I am."
--
Future me here to write this out yeaaaaaa
The pair grows closer over time, hunting down vampires and finding comfort in each other when they need it. The comfort comes in many forms: from gentle, assuring touches to stress-relief via more lustful means. They spend a few years with this same routine, their ultimate goal remaining the same: find that bastard yakumo and take his ass out of this realm of existence.
However, things suddenly change when ciro finds himself caught up in a mistake of his own creation.
Given a reliable but time-sensitive tip, he decides to forego retrieving kaisei and decides to follow up on it alone. Turns out, the tip was a set up, not even by yakumo or anyone who knows him, but another vampire who caught wind that ciro and his deranged vampire partner were the ones killing off his friends. Like any smart vampire, he doesn't carry out the dirty work himself, oh no. He gets a human to trick ciro and get him alone in an alley, only for him to make a clean gunshot through his abdomen.
Thinking he's done his job, the man leaves ciro to bleed out in the alley, all while kaisei is back at the motel, completely unaware of what's transpired.
But unfortunately for the lackey, ciro isn't one to go down easily, and luckily for him, the man had shittier aim than he prided himself on. He is able to get himself to a nearby payphone and calls kaisei for help. Kaisei is of course shocked and frantic as he takes off as soon as ciro discloses where he's dragged himself to. By the time he reaches his partner, the blonde is slumped on the wall near the payphone, breathing still, but just barely.
Kaisei tries to scoop ciro into his arms, assuring him that he will be alright, they will get help, but he's been losing blood this whole time. Kaisei is fighting his own urges as he tries to help his partner up, but ciro can't even stand at this point. He looks at kaisei, and the vampire can't ignore the pain on his face - he knows his time is up.
"Can...can you turn me?"
Kaisei's eyes widen at the request. He had never tried to turn a human before, and he had never wanted to inflict his own fate onto anyone else. But now the only person in his life who had not abandoned him was asking for that lonely fate.
"I...I can't bear abandoning you. You don't deserve to go through that again."
With those kind words, who was he to deny the one person he truly loved and felt that love be returned a request to stay with him longer?
As much as he wants ciro to stay with him, the process scares kaisei. He has to drain ciro of blood until he is almost gone (which at this point is not a lot more), and then get him to drink from his own blood. There is no set time or amount of these things, and this is something he's never attempted nor has a clear memory of his own turning at this moment. He tilts ciro's head and takes a breath before biting into his flesh. He tastes the warm blood flowing into his mouth, and it takes every ounce of his control to not drain him completely.
Just as ciro begins to lose strength and lean into kaisei, he pulls away and the blonde slumps to the side with a groan. Kaisei quickly drags his nails across his wrist before placing it to his partner's lips and encouraging him to drink. He once again has to tilt ciro's head back to allow the blood to trickle down his throat.
Seconds feel like hours after he pulls his arm away, having given him a decent amount of blood. Kaisei's blue eyes watch closely as his partner's breathing slows to a halt. Fear creeps up the back of his neck that he did something wrong, he had failed, his companion and lover was dead-
Until ciro began to cough violently, to the point of retching. Kaisei put an arm around him, a feeble attempt to comfort the man as he experienced the worst pain imaginable, his insides dying and giving way to whatever demonic powers kept their undead bodies moving. Sitting up shakily, ciro leaned into his savior and groaned again. Shifting his arms, he uncovered the bullet wound and felt a mix of disgust and relief to see it slowly closing itself.
They sat in the alley with the distant sounds of the city bearing witness to the sins they committed in the name of love.
--
After some time, kaisei helps ciro to his feet, and they slowly make their way back to the motel. They were lucky it was evening, but the dawn was fast approaching, and they were not about to be caught in the sun's rays.
They stumble into the motel room, kaisei doing his best to keep ciro up. He has regained some strength in his legs, and at this point insists that he can wash up on his own. The blonde fumbles with the handle to the bathroom, until it clicks open and he steps inside, closing the door behind himself.
Kaisei, however, is too wound up to do anything other than fret over his partner. He listens for anything suspicious, only hearing a few wet thumps of clothing being balled up and dropped into the tub. The silence that follows beckons the purple haired man to peek into the door, only to find ciro standing over the pile of bloody clothes, staring down despondently. He swings the door open slowly, and the blonde turns his empty gaze up at him. It's enough to break kaisei's heart, and he steps forward to embrace his lover.
Ciro is still as kaisei sobs apologies into his shoulder. He closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around him. He whispers that it wasn't his fault, he should have known better than to do something so stupid on his own.
"The only reason I'm still here is because of you."
Standing in the glow of the buzzing overhead lights, kaisei gives ciro one last squeeze, before asking him to rest - he will take care of the clothes and wash him up afterwards. Ciro does not argue, he hums a response and shuffles back into the darkness, shadowed by the heavy curtains on the single window, before collapsing onto the bed. His tired mind focuses on the muffled sounds from the bathroom, the thin lines of light escaping the cracks between door and frame - the only traces of light in the pitch darkness.
Water rushing, then lightly splashing, followed by thumps of wadded clothing being unfurled and scrubbed. The gentle noises, comforting darkness, and exhaustion were enough to close ciro's eyelids for the time being.
--
He was just barely falling asleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder trace up to pat his head - kaisei's voice following the caring touch.
"Lets clean you up before you get too comfortable."
Ciro sits in the tub, allowing his partner to scrub the drying blood and other bodily fluids from his skin, being extra careful around the now barely visible wound. He relishes the warm water on his cooling skin - it's a strange sensation, one he guesses it must feel like for a person with hypothermia to be doused in warm water. The silence made him ever more aware that he could not hear blood rushing in his veins, only a barely audible trickle like water dripping into his ears. His heart, or whatever now inhabited the cavity in his chest, did not beat as it had hours ago. He breathed slowly, and was grateful for the rise and fall of his chest still feeling somewhat normal.
Kaisei noticed the far-off look on his partner's face, and cleared his throat to break the silence.
"I know it feels strange," he whispered softly as he held ciro's wrist in his hands, "to suddenly not hear the sounds your body made for so long without you ever noticing."
Ciro nodded.
"It was one of the first things i noticed too - it freaked me out," kaisei said with a dry chuckle.
"You'll eventually get used to it, just like how we must have gotten used to all the noise when we were alive."
The purple-haired man slid his fingers down ciro's wrist and held his hand in his own. He held it to his lips and mumbled, "i will miss that warmth of yours, though."
Ciro leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lover's forehead.
"We'll just have to find other means of keep warm then, won't we?"
--
Not sure how much more i will add on to this, but i was thinking as an extension, writing about them finding yakumo at some point. Part of me was thinking maybe he should be alive, but more fittingly, i feel like yakumo would be dead. Whether by his own hand or someone else's, i just can't see him being alive when they track him down, because what would there be to say? In the end, it would never make sense to kaisei why he was abandoned, no matter what yakumo would use as an excuse or reason.
I also had ideas of branching out into ciro's family (all of or almost all of which are vampire hunters) and making the decision to confide in them his fate. On the fence about his family being accepting of how things have turned out, or being ashamed of him and turning him away.
Also also i had a scene of them intimately together, and kaisei voicing that he would like to find a more permanent living situation. He has been around a long time now, and feels like he has not had a stable home for most of it. Having found someone who won't leave him again, he wants to settle down and at least attempt to enjoy eternity - for real this time, and not another false promise from a man that likely never meant it in the first place.
#model of love#ciro#kaisei#yakumo (mentioned)#oc rambles#oc#original character#i told a friend that if a story is normally cheerful and lighthearted there must be angsty au's to make up for it#beware more incoming angsty au's
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Story Idea: SM Episode 149 Rewrite
So! I think I just had the most fucked up, angst riddled UA (that is, Universe Alteration) idea yet!
I was rereading a filled out prompt idea on idesofnovember's tumblr, specifically their rewrite of SM's ep 149 where the Senshi and TK are present when her Dream Mirror is shattered, and got inspired on how one could really fuck with one's audience; so to speak.
What I mean is: the shattering of one's Dream Mirror does lead to death but it's more due to the connection between dreams and brains. Long story short, brain-death. If she's put on life support, as other patients can be, then it'd be like she fell into a coma with no 'natural' way to point to the cause of her 'fall'. Now, for whatever reason, her Mirror isn't restored, but Chibi is still present when Fish-Eye releases her; which gives the Senshi and TK hope. Thing is, due to certain Laws of Time and, in this case, Time Travel she just starts bawling when she's told what's happened. Because...! She's the reason her Mama's been in a coma since before she was born?!
What...?
If you dare to read more, tell me what you think. Were you inspired?
It's then Chibi goes into detail, completely unaware that she's talking about something they have no first-hand experience with despite her saying things as though repeating bits of what they should already know.
The Crystal Tokyo they once saw and remember is, in a way, no more. It's lesser, much moreso than when Chibi first showed up and took them to a future kingdom that had been attacked by the BMC, because the Ginzuishou wasn't used to its fullest potential, not even half, because its adult wielder isn't aware as she should be and its child wielder hadn't even been conceived yet. It was more due to her love of Mamo/Dymi that it did anything when it helped wake the Earth up from its slumber/dormancy. NQS is, and always has been, in a coma (the reason for it never mentioned to Chibi) in hopes that she'd somehow heal enough on her own to wake up; called the World's Sleeping Savior when her part in the Earth's revival was revealed. Chibi's never been able to actually interact with her Mama until she came to the past, "Why do you think I'm so clingy with her; wanting to spend so much time with her? That I get so happy seeing Papa actually smile so much when he's with her even when I'm mad that I have to leave them alone so they can spend time together too? Or did you forget?!" she asks incredulously. The girls and TK are obviously confused, and feeling a sense of massive foreboding, because Chibi has never acted like that with Usa, because Time can be wibbly-wobbly. And their group (Senshi/TK), having been within a specific radius when this tragedy happened, are the only ones in the world (other than Pluto, of course) who remember how Chibi once acted before, during and after it was revealed that Usa became NQS, her mother, but Chibi herself remembers differently because she, actually 9-12 years old instead of 900+ with a mentality and body of a 9-12 year old girl, remembers being from a different future.
A future where The Council, tired that the Prince-cum-King would suffer no other in his bed despite his claimed Queen and wife being in a coma long before the Earth had gone dormant, no way was it actually legalized considering the age in which she became comatose but being the King of the planet he could technically do as he wanted, deemed that the comatose Queen would risk the perils of being given IF treatment with the King's genetic materials to beget an heir to the throne since trying that with others, for some reason, led said surrogates to start literally rotting from the inside. It would only be after she's encased through the Ginzuishou (in parody of canon's 'tomb') to protect its newly conceived would-be wielder, that the Senshi or King would become aware of what The Council had done, been doing, without permission, knowledge or remorse. 'She wasn't properly human after all and he was being impractical and illogical in regards to everything about her. Really, it would be a blessing if she died baring an heir since then he'd have to get remarried if said heir didn't make it.'
If one wants to, it could be that 'it just so happens' that Chibi blames herself for something that isn't true due to Time being, as said before, wibbly-wobbly. In her parents' past, it's that Helios was with Mamo during this time as the proper but unrealized wielder/heir of the Kin-zuishou because they didn't meet or interact with an evacuated Princess from the future. But! Usa's Mirror was still destroyed by Mr Magic Pierrot while Mamo, unlike in this Time's past, had gone untouched and Helios unfound by Fish-Eye. It's because of what happened to his Usako that Mamo buckles down to learn all he could from Helios regarding the Kin-zuishou in hopes to heal her himself. He obviously fails. And the Ginzuishou isn't going to just let its current wielder die, not even after a new wielder is birthed since she'd be too young to do so. And all because it can sense that, despite being inactive for so long, she's still healthy in body and soul. It's not sentient enough to realize that it might be considered a mercy to those still awake around her, those who love and care for her, to let her go into the next world/life so she wasn't considered just a convenient incubator for the King's children.
#reblog to spread the word#sailor moon#usamamo#mamousa#serendymion#canon universe alteration#super s episode 22#episode 149#story idea#episode rewrite#chibiusa#inner senshi#My post
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Code Kunst- Red + Green Flags
❤️
He becomes too prideful and egoistic, it can lead to problems speaking up for himself (not in a way of that he gets too scared to speak but in a way that if he feels already misunderstood then he won't put in effort to clear his name or get ppl to understand him). It's vibes of "they've already made a conclusion of how I am, so why bother saying anything". It can lead to even more misunderstandings
He sits and let things happen too much. Like the kind of guy that finds himself at a club bc he's just mindlessly following his friends and letting ppl drag him to different places.
He's way too easily led by others. And he surrenders his power/himself to others too easily
He has experience with a traumatic childhood, problems with his parents(specifically a mother figure). He may have cynical beliefs that if he thinks his parents fucked up in raising him then he wouldn't want to raise kids at all, due to believing they'll turn out to be messed up as well
He still holds onto strong feelings of resentment to his parents. He's not taking proper steps to forgive them so that he can heal. Right now, his wounds are still wide open, leaking blood and if he doesn't get stitches he can risk infection (to solve this problem he doesn't need bandaids, he needs stitches)
Ahhh, okay. So he's a person that really enjoys music, especially lesser known music/artist. But, I see that hee the type to make his entire personality the fact that he supports "indie artist" and "real artist that aren't primed and pampered by big companies". He can even feel that way about himself, where he sees his music in higher regard since he's doing it all on his own without much help from a company
He's quite a lonely man, and struggles a bit with connections. Leads him to guilt trip and manipulate others into staying by his side. Can be insecure about how entertaining he actually is. Also, he could have the habit of trauma dumping
He's the perfect definition a man that plays the long game in love. He plays "the guy friend" role a lot when he wants a girl instead of outright getting with her. Idk if you guys know the saying "a shoulder to cry on, can be a dick to ride on" but that could be how his romantic relationships turn out
💚
He's quite an independent person and even he wouldn't partake in new romances if he wasn't feeling ready or the person wasn't ready. A healthy lover, and very big on consent (like most ppl should be).
Surprisingly. He's quite the charming, gentleman that knows how to treat a woman and make her feel heard, seen and beautiful.
He definitely could have more women under his belt if he so chooses but he's calculative with how he moves. People may underestimate him a lot but he's really a powerful, influential guy.
Code Kunst takes care of others very well, worrying after others mental health and giving healing advice to those in need of it. He can have a deep desire to inspire ppl to good un their own lives, he would feel very grateful if a fan told him that his music played a big role in their life
It may very well be his entire purpose of creating music. To inspire others.
Once again, I'm seeing a very caretaker type of man, that even when he feels lazy and tired, will try his best to be there for others. Like a guy that keeps his promises, no matter what. Also a guy that when his loved ones really need him, he's there for them
He's a very committed person in love, he doesn't fear marriage or giving a girl the girlfriend status long as their both ready. The kind of person that if he argues with a significant other, he likes it and prefers it to be that away instead of running away. He can feel very hurt by a person walking away from him when they fight (even if it's just to cool down), he may look at it as the relationship is over.
The Weekend by SZA is a song that fits this readings energy
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🌻🌷🍰🐥
thank you darling! <3
🌻 least favourite character / hardest to write
answered here!
🌷 writing achievement you want to brag about
oh my goodness, this question is a scary prospect! but I will say that having people bind my writing is something that I always used to idly dream about but assumed would never happen. I have now seen photo sets of two absolutely gorgeous hardback versions of Pieces and I've cried both times. It helped that they were both sexy as fuck: one looks like a kind of book subscription box special edition and the other was like a gorgeous academic tome <3
🍰 where you like to write
I tend to sit on my sofa cross legged with a cushion on my lap, and my laptop is cheap as shit so it constantly overheats.
🐥 here's some writing motivation!
hmm, I'm not sure about the wording of this question - if I'm supposed to share something that motivates me, or if I'm supposed to share something motivating??? who knows. I will go with the latter, I suppose? (I'm not very good at saying motivating things, as I get super worried about the individuality of everyone's experiences and what I find inspiring might not be for everyone etc. etc. BUT-)
in 2020, I was briefly hospitalised bc of suspected appendicitis (it wasn't that, although it was the thing I ended up getting operated on this january, 4 years later!) I hadn't prepared my bag properly bc it was sudden and I was panicking, so I didn't pack anything to do - no books, and no phone charger, either. As a result, I went a little out of my mind for a few days, with both boredom and loneliness (it was covid so hospital visitations in the UK weren't allowed), until someone I knew managed to get a phone charger to my ward at least.
With a phone charger, I could access the internet and thus the lifesaver, AO3. But I was so tired and sad and couldn't really think bc I was fasting in case of surgery, so I didn't have the energy to try anything new. So, for the first time (as I had just started writing fic that year!) I ended up... reading all of the longfic I'd written up until that point, and that kept me company until I was out of hospital.
There was a lot of things that contributed to that particular feeling - i was so very depressed at this time - but the knowledge that my fic was so comforting to me, and exactly what i needed and wanted to read, and catered specifically to me in a way that was so fucking enjoyable... I know there's a lot of tumblr posts to that effect already in the world. but the act of reading something I'd made and needed so badly in that moment gave me a whole new appreciation for my own writing, and the lovely thing was, it wasn't on anybody else's terms. it didn't need to be on ao3 getting comments/kudos for that writing to still look after me in that moment of hardship, and make me happy again. it just happened to be the easiest place to read it!
so now, whenever i start a new fic project, my baseline isn't popularity or artistic scope or anything, but, "will I reread this again when I'm sick, or anxious?"
the answer is nearly always yes, obviously, bc I'm feeding myself specifically. but it also helps me keep writing, bc I like to imagine a future me in need of comfort and I like to picture her having a completed work for company :)
☀️ summertime writers' asks! ☀️
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Some of y'all just added "nonbinary people" to your vocabulary without bothering to interrogate your reliance on the gender binary and it shows.
Supposedly this was inspired by a list of "trans creators" that only included trans men and cis women? I don't know. I haven't seen the list and a couple of searches didn't turn up anything likely.
I do know that it was certainly A Choice to use a character whom nonbinary people have vocally considered representation to make this statement. It was also A Choice to once again split the nonbinary community into society's binary gender boxes to drag us into the same, tired intra-community discourse.
I'm not going to even get into the argument over who has what visibility. But I do question the intentions of the person who anonymously shared this with a meme group that is based around a tv show (The Good Place, in case that wasn't obvious) and is not specifically a trans space. What end is being served by putting this kind of thing out into public conversation?
Again, that's not even my point.
The other day, I saw a post that was arguing for gender neutral bathrooms and was listing off the people who benefit from those being available. Nonbinary people didn't even get a mention there (and yes, binary trans people were on the list). Maybe they considered it so obvious that it didn't need stated, but it struck me as odd regardless.
We're obviously an afterthought in a lot of conversations about trans rights. Often mentioned in the same breath as women, it's clear the only version of "nonbinary" in most people's minds translates to "woman+" or "woman-lite" or "quirky woman" or whatever. Or the transmasc nonbinary folks are grouped in with trans men (and often still being thought of as some version of "weird women").
Which, yes, is because those assigned vaginous at birth have the most visibility.
Yes, this is a problem.
One that is absolutely not going to be solved by splitting us up into another binary.
So much of this world is unnecessarily gendered and it's not helping anyone. Instead of dividing a group - whose existence is a "no thanks" (or sometimes a "fuck you") to the gender binary - based on what you assume is in our pants or how we present or if we have an odd or even number of eyelashes, maybe just...don't?
And if you can't manage that, at least don't do it in service of creating a rift in the trans community. Because fuck that.
#this is my brain on life#trashpool says fuck this shit#midwestern queers#trans lyfe#nonbinary#image described in alt
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Estimated Time of Arrival
Some time ago...
Ink: All right I finally feel better to start writing again! I just announced Jaws Arc 2, I also have a couple installments for Rough Cut Diamonds planned that I'm excited about. Then there was this idea last night that I got that I need to start outlining, because that'd be EPIC. Now where is my pen?-
*knock knock*
Ink: I'm not expecting anyone....Come in?
Life: Hey Ink!
Ink: Hey Life, is there something you wanted?
Life: Well I just wanted to see if you wanted to spend some time together...
Ink: Well we just hung out, I was actually taking some time to do some writing since it's been a minute-
Life: But when we hung out last time you were all yucky and it wasn't really fun cuz you were just lying there. I want to go have some fun this time!
Ink: Well what did you have in mind?
Life: There's a couple movies I want to see that are coming out, some shows i wanna watch and rewatch, I want to go visit some family, I want to just do stuff together!
Ink: Uh huh... Can I at least take a bit of time to write? I've had some really good ideas that I want to bring to-
Life: *tearing up* it's like you don't even care if I go by the wayside, Ink. *Gets more and more hysterical* Do I even make you happy anymore, Inkbert?!
Ink: Wha- Of course you still make me happy! I just wanna do other things that... don't involve you sometimes. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that.
Life: That's a bullshit saying!
Ink: It's a completely valid and accurate saying.
Life: I feel like we hardly do anything together anymore!
Ink: And that's how you feel. The fact is we JUST got finished hanging out for the past month... YESTERDAY.
Life: That doesn't count! Again you were sick, you're heart wasn't in it!
Ink: What does that even?!-
Life: IT MAKES SENSE TO ME!
Ink: ...
Life: .....
Ink: .......
Life: .........
Ink: ... If I agree to hang out with you, quality time and all now that I am perfectly healthy, will you let me write in peace?
Life: *suddenly chipper* For sure!
Ink: *grumbles* Crazy how this is the one hobby I have where you feel the need to fuck with me-
Life: Irrelevant!
Ink: *sigh* Fine, let me just write down a few things so I don't forget them when I come back
Life: Yeah yeah yeah do that, I have soooo much on our itinerary! <3
Ink: Rightttt.... anyways, now that that's done, what did you wanna do first?
Life: *maniacally rubs hands together* Just you wait~
-a couple months later-
Ink: *belly flops onto the bed* My God I'm tired
Life: *sits upright next to them* That was so much fun tho right?! The movies, the video games, the shopping and expeditions...
Ink: It had it's moments yeah...
Life: *nudge nudge* Admit it, you had a good time
Ink: It was pretty nice...Thanks I guess.
Life: You're always welcome, Ink....*looks down, reluctantly* well i guess I'll get out of your hair so you finally have your peace and all that.
Ink: *lifts face up out of pillow* Oh?
Life: Yeah, we had a deal. Thanks for indulging me and my nonsense. You didn't exactly plan for any of it.
Ink: *sits up* Hey, I may not have planned for our hangout, but I genuinely enjoyed my time with you. It....brings me back when I need it. There are other things I like to do, and you remind me of that. So I guess I should be thanking you in some weird way.
Life: You're... Thanking me?
Ink: Yeah. I think part of my urgency to write comes from all my experiences I have with you. You're my inspiration for better and for worse. I write to get away from you, but I also write, in part, because of you.
Life: That sounds deep....I think I get it.
Ink: *rubs the back of their neck* It sounded right in my head.
Life: *chuckles* It sounds right to me too, don't worry
Ink: Can I...give you a hug?
Life: Only if I can give you one back
Ink: ....do you know how a hug works?
Life: I was only a tangible being for this specific moment sooooo flip a coin
Ink: You right you right
*they hug each other*
Ink:...Tell you what. I'll plan our next hang out, alright?
Life: Really?!
Ink: Yeah. I wanna make the most of our time together.
Life: *grins and hugs them again* Agh thank you thank you thank you! That's all I could ever want from you. I'll leave you to your alone time now.
Ink: Thanks, I'll see you later
Life: Bye bye! *poofs away*
Ink: ...swell guy. Now where is my pen?
-meanwhile with Life-
Life: So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how mad do you think they're gonna be when they realize I stole their will to write?
Happiness: Well it shouldn't be too bad if you disabled their idea maker as well.
Life: Nonono i left that intact.
Happiness: ...
Life: I'll give it back eventually...
Happiness: ...
Life: GET PRANKED!
----------
I simply wrote some random shit to get my juices flowing a bit since I haven't been able to write in a good while, enjoy it if you want, but hey I kinda like this thingy here 😅
#jc ink blots#i just wrote some shit honestly#it was kinda therapeutic ngl#anteeways#i'll catch you on the flipside bud o7
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...
So here's a little idea/one-shot this inspired me to make-
Danny sat on his throne during the meeting with Ancients. The table was huge, yet it was smaller than he expected. It seemed not every ghost of a thing was an ancient being. There were other types of ghosts who handled that; spirits if he remembered right.
But that wasn't why he wasn't listening anymore. It's not why he felt like time froze despite Clockwork arguing with Nocturn about something just a few seats to the left.
No, it's because they were there. It's because... none of them were angry at him. None of them had any grudges. He knew. As king, he knew if they had any. Some kind of added empath ability gained through the crown. But they didn't. They didn't.
He looked across the table somewhere to the right. The embodiment of knowledge, specifically on exploratory science. She was formed back in the Enlightenment era, or was it during the Scientific Revolution?
He didn't have the time to ponder it before she made eye contact with him. She gave him a smile, one with sympathetic eyes, before bowing her head and focusing back on the argument.
Oh.
They never hated him. They just... manipulated him. They chose him.
He turned to look back at Clockwork, eyes just the slightest bit brighter.
He made this happen. He made Danny fight like his life was on the line. All those close calls... The Ancients must've been going easy on him.
Pariah Dark was greatly weakened, just waking up from a forever sleep. Comatose people who wake up take a while to orient themselves, why wouldn't that be true for ghosts too?
And Dan. Dan. He- He wasn't easy. Danny won by catching him by surprise. In a fair fight, Danny wouldn't have won. Hell, Dan didn't want him dead. He wanted his family and friends dead. He wasn't aiming for Danny. He wasn't actually going hard on him, not with the intent of ending him. He couldn't, not without ending himself.
Vlad... he still wanted him alive, too. He gave effort, but it was all for the game. It was just to tire him out.
None of it was real.
Something about that made him want to cry. Why was he the one chosen? I guess they might not have had any options. Who would've survived a portal being ripped open through them? He didn't either. He could remember the electricity coarsing through him, the smell, the white and green, becoming unaware and then aware again and again, the pain pain pain-
It was all served to him on a silver platter. Or maybe he should say bronze. It wasn't like he had an easy time.
So why was he here? He's not strong. He's not. Maybe he has a variety of powers, but it wasn't like he was really adept at using them hell- he still uses human technology. The stuff from the living.
Why is he here, sharing a seat among the strongest of the Realms?
Danny didn't concentrate on anything after that. Not for a while. Clockwork became concerned, looking over to the ghost of knowledge.
He did everything right, he kept the boy's family alive, made sure Saint Amity kept the GIW from getting their hands on him, gave him the knowledge that even the littlest things could affect the future, so why is this still happening?
But nobody could answer.
Nobody except Spectra.
Just entering the throne room, and she felt rejuvenated.
Insecurity, low self-worth, apathy, depression-
But instead of egging it on, she could only really ask,
"Why the fuck do you think you're weak? What am I, a roach?!"
Danny startled out of his false reverie.
"Spectra?"
She glared at him.
"So now you're thinking of me? What, did you think I was just some wallflower? Don't underestimate me, you phantom wisp. Just because I'm a woman who's supposed to just clean, wash dishes, and satisfy the needs of her man doesn't mean I'm weak! And I most certainly didn't let you win! You're so frustrating, I can't stand you!" She jabbed a nail on his chest, making him wince.
"I didnt even say-"
"But you felt it! You were thinking it!"
"I didn't mean-"
"So you're lying to yourself now? Making rumors about me?"
"No-"
"So you're admitting-"
"THEY GAVE ME THIS POSITION!"
Spectra flinched back.
"They trained me- they- they weren't even trying to do anything! They just used me, they forced me here! They didn't give me an option- and it's- I'm not fit for this! I shouldn't- why am I even king? Why? Just to be some face, just some cover up for the secret government of Ancients? Because I know jackSHIT about running the entirety of the afterlife! I'm barely able to save my own town-city. I- I'm told everything, how to do, what to do, why to do it all. I don't do anything. I can't do anything- I can't... Why am I here? Why am... why am I here..?"
The room was quiet. Sniffling and shuddering breaths being the only thing to keep the silence away.
Spectra stared at the boy. The one she had nearly driven to his full death or potential End so many times. The boy who had driven himself to suicidal ideation without her doing a damn thing.
She wouldve been happy about it if it wasn't so damn bland by now. The level of insecurity this kid had was frustrating! So what if they forced him on the throne? What matters is why the fuck he thinks that she's weak!
"I dont get a single fucking thing going through your head, wisp." Spectra spat, hand grabbing his face, nails digging into his cheeks. "So what if they put you here? So what if they went easy? They're fucking Ancients. The gods of gods. They think a whole bloodline is a board game for them to play. They think an entire dimension is some type of house for them to renovate, tearing down and building things however they want. Of course they'll go easy. They go easy just to do their fucking job of keeping the planets in fucking orbit!"
She clawed at his face, making him activate his intangibility to get out of her hold, but she just grabbed his hair instead.
"LOOK AT ME WHEN IM SPEAKING TO YOU! LOOK AT ME AN LISTEN, YOU INSUFFERABLE BRAT! I didn't go easy on you. Those lumps of tech, the ash for brains, even that fucking circus whore didn't go easy on you! You think we care about your life? You think we thought you were special? You're a FREAK! You're just some ghost infant who the Ancient of luck decided to mess with. You're not the first and you won't ever be! You're not special, but you're not some run of the mill ghost. Nobody can even stand in the same room as any of those tyrannical kings. Nobody could have gone against Pariah like that. 1 order and you're down."
Spectra threw him back, making him let out a curse as he hit his head on his hard throne he hadn't been able to exchange for another yet.
"Just because your their charity case doesn't mean your mine. So don't think for a second that I'm not trying to use you as a food bank, you hear? Fuck, it's like I'm talking sense into that asshole all over again." She turned and started to walk away, grumbling, "Weak my ass. I'm never trusting anyone enough to not try and nearly kill them. I should've had healing powers."
Danny stared as the door to the room slammed shut behind her.
"Did- Did she just... comfort me?"
From that day on, he'd remember the rogues he had so often fought. His rogue gallery that didn't care about his survival before he was able to befriend them or at least make a deal.
He might've been guided to this position, but he had to fight to get through that pathway to it. And nobody could really say that they had Ancients going easy on them. They never existed to be able to.
He's a king now. His orders can't be disobeyed by Ancients either now, can they? That should be enough to get by. Yeah. He'll just make sure he becomes even stronger before anyone could think about going easy on him.
King Phantom
#danny fenton#danny phantom#Ancients#ghost king danny#spectra#therapy with spectra#sorta#parental ancients#lady luck is an ancient#she likes winning the lottery and danny is the very definition of winning one#she made a halfa and nobody else can#not even clockwork#he revolves around her!#(he doesnt but she's prideful and ptoud about her achievement)
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unhinged vent post
idk if these are bad person thoughts or not so pls be nice to me if u see a bad person thought and politely let me know that it has bad person connotations without telling me i'm a villain pls thank you
anyways i know we all hate capitalism and voting w your dollar is the most important vote and you should never spend money on things that u like because somebody evil is using your money to be evil so u should only ever enjoy the things u like if they are free or can be stolen.
it's morally reprehensible to spend money on anything that wasn't a totally independent project and you still have to do a background check on all the indie creators u wanna buy from bc what if they're a bad person. i wanna make stuff and inspire others but if i make something through the help of a big business then everyone will steal my thing because the Big Business will make money, but if i make something independently (which is so taxing and soul crushing and draining) then i might see a cent of the thing i made but i had to do All the Work of Making, Advertising, Selling/Shipping, Presenting and i'm probably not getting fairly compensated for all the extra work bc no one will buy independently produced things if they cost the appropriate amount of money for an independently produced thing.
i have to be constantly aware of the Capitalism Rules and also the Anti-Capitalism Rules and they're both really fucking tiring and annoying and I just wanna be able to live.
why do we have to spend every single day grappling with the moral consequences of being alive. my being alive requires that i participate in harmful systems that perpetuate hate and poverty and death and oppression but it's a requirement that i patronize the walmart bc there are no small markets near me with the specific shit i need. it's a requirement that i buy fast fashion bc all the thrift stores near me increased their prices due to the latest "thrifty trends" so i can't afford anything else. it's a requirement that i have a stupid cell phone that actual literal children Died to make because if i don't have one of these, i can't have a job or regular contact with my loved ones.
anyways i'm sad that i have to engage in systems and behaviors that i know are bad. it makes me want to throw myself off the roof of the empire state building.
#tw suicide#tw suicide ideation#tw capitalism#tw anticapitalism#tw vent#tw rant#tw#tw neurodivergent#tw moral ocd#i don't have moral ocd (i think) but i know this hits a lot of those themes#morals#sad#tw sad#frustrated#tw frustrated
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I'm so sorry for putting Tumblr back in its peak era, but i have to.
For me, at least. But maybe you can take something from this too.
We all went through something super dramatic and came out different in one way or another. Some people changed for the better, some people for the worst. A lot of people cam out of the COVID-19 pandemic with more social anxiety or experienced it for the first time (like me). Most of us sat and continue to occupy positions today which provide us with challenges and impact our day-to-day in unfavorable ways.
As I sit here writing this, I have a million other things I need to be doing--but I'm so tired. Physically tired--sleep deprived to the point where it's not even funny, mentally drained and exhausted. I've fallen behind in so many tasks and assignments. Yet, sometimes we have to be the person who allows ourselves to take a break and express our thoughts and articulate our emotions when no one else will. When the world is not giving you the kindness and consideration that you deserve, make sure to make time and space for yourself. Writing this will probably make my thoughts a lot clearer (well, I'm sleep deprived again, so maybe moreso...less cluttered). I just feel like so many thoughts are hanging over my head in a cloud that I don't have time to think about. But in the long run, really, it makes everything harder to navigate.
If you take anything away from this, give yourself the 5 minutes and a much needed break to do what you need to do for yourself, like I am doing now.
I transferred to a new university away from my hometown, a passion that I loved, a community that I loved to do my passion with, and almost everyone I knew. I've been in undergrad for damn near long enough to have (maybe) my graduates. I'm supposed to finally graduate this quarter.
But I'm just so tired...and anxious, and depressed. I know that it's much better to talk to a professional about this but I'm not able to right now. I work 20 hours per week, and go to school more than full time since my advisors pushed me to graduate earlier than everyone else I know graduating for no specific reason. One day, I was sitting in class an my heart rate on my watch rose to 155BPM--i wasn't doing anything, I was just sitting there anxious. I thought I was having a heart attack and drove to the hospital, staying overnight.
Anxiety is never something I've had to face in my day-to-day which impacts it at that level before. After COVID, however, I am anxious in all social situations and especially in an unfamiliar community (still fairly new to me because of the stay-at-home orders, remember?) This was supposed to be my last hurrah at a university experience after years of working through community college to transfer. And I moved away from everyone and everything I loved to sit in my room for two fucking years, gaining health problems and mental problems I didn't know would be popping up now after society has been opened back up for awhile.
And yet here I am when it matters most. The one class that is required specifically for graduation--I wrote the wrong deadline down. I'm embarrassed and scared to email my professor about it. I've had to meet with my other professors, too, about missing work and falling behind. Even in work I'm behind on work. I feel so bad but I genuinely felt like my birthday, two days ago, was too much for me to think about let alone celebrate--how do i pull myself out of this? how do i not blame myself? i have severe adhd impairment and because of my newfound anxiety heart rate, cannot take my medication without precaution. everything that could possibly go wrong is going wrong. and i'm so depressed.
i know this sounds like it went from maybe inspirational to a lot of whining, but honestly, i just need space to vocalize and vent. i don't know who else to talk to. i haven't made any friends since I've transferred.
anyway, i have to go try to tackle the never ending workload that i have in lieu of the past-due dates that are glaring at me at all times in my mind.
if you, too, are struggling friend--know that you're not alone. thanks for reading this far into my first (albeit mundane) post. I'll try to update the situation as it unfolds.
wish me luck, we'll make it through this. this too shall pass.
-the immaculator
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I have been requested to elaborate and I will do so because for the first time ever I fully believe I am utlilizing canon in a way that makes a lot of sense.
Granted, my analysis skills are brand spanking new and therefore bad, so in a year I'll probably be like What The Fuck
Anyways.
Music is very, very good at evoking strong feelings in people. This is important.
So the thing about rage is that it's ultimately an aspect of rebellion. Rage doesn't come from nowhere, and going by the definition from the extended zodiac, in Homestuck Rage comes from a frustration with the way things are. Rage players are rebels, revolutionaries, anarchists. They don't want reform, they want to scrap tradition for parts and rebuild everything from scratch.
Meanwhile hope players are dreamers. Visionaries. They see the world as how it could be rather than how it is. Specifically the Hadestown interpretation of Orpheus is probably hopebound. And, importantly, they actually have the drive and desire to make the world they dream of. They have strong convictions that motivate their actions. They are perpetually trying to do whatever they see as the right thing (which is not necessarily the actual right thing, hope players are just as predisposed to being bad people or having their moral views skewed by personal bias as anyone else. Just look at the Amporas. Acting on your strong convictions does not mean you're actually doing the right thing).
Ultimately, the hope- and ragebound have the potential to be punk as fuck. This is also important.
So to reiterate: people bound to these aspects want to see change, and they're not afraid to destroy anything that stands in the way of progress towards that change.
Again, art, and in particular music has the power to inspire a great deal of emotion in people.
It also has the immense power to sway your beliefs.
Consider, again, punks. Music is at the very core of the movement. In punk music you can find the very heart of everything they believe.
I was gonna put some examples of punk music that does this, but then I remembered the riot grrl song that addresses this DIRECTLY.
Deceptacon by Le Tigre
Let's look at some of the lyrics.
Wanna disco? Wanna see me disco?
Let me hear you depoliticize my rhyme
This is. This is so blatant.
This is a statement of "my music is inherently reflective of my political beliefs and you want it to be just a fun little dance song so you can take away its teeth"
Do I need to elaborate?
Also this part, which is (at least according to genius, I wasn't alive when this song came out and don't know the actual backstory) about pop bands spewing commercialized feminism.
Yr so policy free and yr fantasy wheels
And everything you think and everything you feel
Is alright, alright, alright, alright, alright
Le Tigre is mocking these bands for refusing to actually say anything with their music that might threaten their popularity, but also saying "even if it's hyperssanitized, you're still getting the message out there, so there's bigger problems"
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music_and_political_warfare
And of course for the dark side of this:
I'm tired and this is very far from being an essay blog. Just take the wikipedia article and go.
So yeah, for better or worse, music is how you rally people behind your ideology, and a big factor in making change happen or not happen. It is the tool of anyone who desires to change the status quo, and that is by definition what the hopebound and ragebound do.
Bonus for laughs: my opinion that hope and rage both have the capacity to be extremely punk is very funny when looking at canon because hey. Eridan is repeatedly described as a hipster. And hipster culture is literally just a soulless heartless imitation of beat culture. And beatniks were the forefathers to punks and hippies. Are you all picking up what I'm putting down? No? Me either. Help.
Me when I first started working on my fancomic idea: yeah I have a hard time with classpects so they're probably not gonna play a major role
Me now: *sitting in front of a corkboard covered in red string, a piece of duct tape stuck to my arm, coffee spilled on the floor* rage and hope could be tangibly represented by music. I'd be right and no one would stop me.
#idk if this made any sense#classpects#aspects homestuck#homestuck#if you have criticism with my analysis please tell me i love learning
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