#*Unhinged Parasite Noises*

[anonymous-harpy]

Kami damnit Thing 1 and Thing 2 are gonna meet my favorite Biomechanoid

#anonymous_h #dbz #dragon ball #dbz fandom #the crack returns #with a fuckin vengeance #gammas #gamma 1 #gamma 2 #the gammas #*Unhinged Parasite Noises*

[chaos-cousins]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

[A video is embedded. There's no visual, only audio.

You can hear Ren hyperventilating while sobbing, intermittent with the occasional moments of dry heaving.]

#tw emetophobia #tw post apocalypse #tw loss of bodily control #ask to tag #tw parasites #//good morning everyone what the fuck is going on in SMT

[shallahi-and-snowflake]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

…Rrrkhhhhghkh.

What…

What in Damnation…

Rrrrgh… RHHK.

#ithowghd a shidtnab woult helb #shallahiposting #rotomblr #pkmn irl #answered asks #tw emetophobia #tw post-apocalypse #tw violence #tw parasite #tw body horror #tw cursing

[gilded--imprisonment]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

Ough. That was awful. My recent exposure to large quantities of memoria probably didn't help either.

I feel sick. I swear I can still feel it in my throat... I think I'm gonna take a moment...

#pokeblogging #rotomblr #tw emetophobia #tw parasite #tw loss of bodily control #//he's not questioning it bc memory/dream sharing is canon and relatively well known in the hsr universe

[toxx-apex-727]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

ssHHTIT SHIT AHIT

no nonononono iitis not. iitsnot mine itd not mine it's nott rreal

ffuck im gonnna vomit-

#faller skel speaking #rotomblr nightmare exchange program #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #rotumblr #tw parasite #tw emetophobia #tw loss of bodily control

[moons-favorite-guy]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

Frenzy frenzy frenzy fre-

Gods beyond. I hate parasites.

#in character #the hunter speaks

[pandorias-box]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's… nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just… it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth.

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel… frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

Stop… don’t do this… it hurts… it hurts.

What is that thing… no… no… STOP! I WANT TO BE IN CONTROL-

Ngh… another horrid nightmare. Why do they always feel so realistic?

#pokemon irl #pkmn irl #rotumblr #irl pokemon #pokeblogging #pokeblr #rotomblr #pandoria answers #tw nightmares #tw emetophobia #tw mind control #tw parasite

[pokemonveterinarian]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

[Saint was quiet and shaky when he woke up, simply feeling for his boyfriends' hands.

They were already awake and out of bed, though.

"I hope whoever that was is... okay." He muttered, feeling of his throat to make sure it didn't actually happen.]

#pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pkmn irl #musharna malice

[pikavui-cafe]

(TW: Emetophobia, parasites, loss of bodily control)

Musharna Malice! Someone else's... nightmare? Memory?

You stand in front of the three Fates. Atropos, holding the scissors. Lachesis, measuring the thread. And Clotho, holding the spindle.

They're here to keep you from ascending the Obelisk and breaking that son of a bitch Hikawa to pieces, and- God, that just... it just infuriates you. That him, with his philosophy of numbness and silence shattered everything you knew, led to the Magatama buried in your body, the death of everyone you had ever cared for excluding your two closest friends and even then- even then, the amount of shit they've experienced is a kind of spiritual death anyway.

You hate him. You hate that he's schemed his way to near success. You hate these three for getting in your way.

All of that hatred draws to a tight point, it feels like everything falls away as that white-hot core of boiling hatred draws your Focus blade-sharp onto Clotho as she flicks her wrist and heals the three of them, almost giggling as she does so.

Geis squirms in your throat, heavy and uncomfortable and omnipresent in your mind with the threat of a Curse as you tease out benefits from it, and it leaves you nauseous- but you don't waver like you usually do when any of the parasites in your body act up. You can't. Your body moves without you. That hate fueled Focus pours into your arm, and god it fucking hurts.

Your body moves without you, your body moves despite you, bringing the arm that feels like it's burning from the inside out up to level the palm at Clotho, your other hand bracing it by the elbow. You watch her eyebrows furrow, and then fear flick hard and fast across her face as raw power whirls out of the air and your skin begins to crack apart like paint on an unmounted canvas.

She opens her mouth, and then the light- the shot- goes off. It rips from your hand, leaving you to shed chunks of skin and stagger back at the sheer force. She shrieks when it hits her, burning her skin and leaving her to stagger. You barely pay attention, locked on the sight of your skin sealing back together like it hadn't been splitting like dried mud seconds ago, and you just feel ill even with your body back under your control-

Atropos hits you with an Agilao, Dionysus shouts at you to get your head back on straight- and you could almost think he's worried, if you weren't so rattled- and you snarl at her in turn.

You use the skin-fissuring skill again, repeatedly, because even through the pain and discomfort it's effective, and Clotho finally dies. Her sisters follow suit shortly afterwards.

Dionysus rounds on you after they finally fall, but before he can even open his mouth, Geis acts up again. The grasping claws you're used to hanging onto your flesh flare open, and the thrashing begins again, but this time it doesn't just squirm in your throat, it begins to squirm out of your throat, up out of your mouth.

Nausea hits you, hard and burning, and your mouth falls open. Geis's head forces its way out, claws flaring out past your teeth, and you reach up instinctively. The claws close around your fingers, and you yank the Magatama out of your mouth, letting it dangle and squirm, before something- god only knows what- possesses you and you give into the urge that ratchets through you.

Your other hand comes up, and you seize it by the body. It doesn't make noise, but the claws fall limp again immediately, letting you pull it back and shove the entire body back into your mouth. 

Dionysus and Loki make matching noises of horror and revulsion as you sink into a crouch and curl over your knees. The Magatama thrashes in your hand and in your mouth, but you barely notice despite the instinctive nausea that suffuses your body in response. You feel... frenzied, unhinged, out of control, not in the driver's seat.

One hand is cupped loosely near your mouth, as if to catch the Magatama if it manages to escape again, but the other is half inside of your mouth. You're equal parts swallowing and pushing the parasite back down your throat. It eventually falls still, and you manage to return it to where it belongs alongside the other Magatama hosted within your body, throat working around the horrifically tubular form while your fingers work in your mouth to force it down faster.

You pull your hand out of your mouth and rest your forehead on your knees, trying to regain your head.

There's a period of silence, scored only by your breathing into the hollow between your head and your thighs, then Loki breaks it, loud and demanding with a simple-

"What the FUCK?"

You jolt awake.

Oh my Arceus! I have no idea what the heck was that, but uhh... Frick... I need my Eevee dear to handle what the fuck just happened right now, I need a fluffy break...

#pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #rotumblr #pokemon #irl pkmn #pokemon rp #pokeblr #pokeblog roleplay #rotomblr #pikavuiposts #inquiriesandorders

[gchoate17]

I watched 25 movies in 2023 – down from 30 last year. Here they are, ranked in order. 

Cherry

Fantastic story, well told. It covered a lot of ground in a short time and made me believe everything. Despite the bad decision, I never stopped pulling for him. Tom Holland crushed it.

2. Tetris

I love these stories that pull the curtain back on pop culture phenomena. An enthralling sprint from start to finish.

3. I, Tonya

Nice job of showing the other side of the story. I felt some empathy for “the monster.” Also, I wasn’t expecting to laugh, but I laughed multiple times.

4. Dune (2021)

It’s always impressive when someone creates a new world that seems to add up. The story is set, now show me the sequel.

5. White Noise

Intellectual and quirky, but ridiculous, in a good way. But it also feels a little too unhinged. Adam Driver crushes it.

6. The Beanie Bubble

Zach Galifinakis’s best performance? Enough of a true story to give me the satisfaction of learning something while also pointing to the ridiculous nature of American capitalism in the 1990s.

7. On the Rocks

Bill Murray and his character carry it.

8. Barbie

Stylistically, really fun. Concept, fantastic. Kate McKinnon and Michael Cera’s characters are the best part of the movie. It was also nice to see so many actors from Sex Education. Of course, Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling were fantastic as well. Overall, the was good, but it certainly didn’t measure up to the hype (and how could it). My only real complaint comes with when they have all been enlightened and they name all of the problems with society, which is a little too on the nose for me. We got it without being told.

9. Narvik

I’ve been into Dutch things lately, and I always like a new perspective on World War II, but I wouldn’t say this one is a can’t-miss.

10. Seven Kings Must Die

SPOILER ALERT: I feel like I couldn't get into the movie because legitimately the only person I was pulling for at the end was Uhtred. King Athelstan was a dumbass who deserved to die. All the kings who got duped into allying with the evil Dane guy made the move I would have made. Moral of the story: War is terrible. But that final shot of the Great Hall was awesome.

11. Parasite

Kind of funny. A little too far-fetched.

12. This is Where I Leave You

Weak story, great actors.

13. Air

I know why they did it, but it was a mistake to make a movie about Air Jordans without Michael Jordan.

14. Blood & Gold

I couldn’t buy that what happened in that small town didn’t alert larger authorities. In that way, it was a lot like Three Kings, but less humorous.

15. Those People

I am writing this review months after I watched the movie and even after watching the trailer, I have no recollection of ever seeing this movie, but in my notes I gave it three stars, so I’m putting it at the end of my three-star movies for the year.

16. Everything Everywhere All at Once

Loved the first half-ish, and the acting was great, but – as is with most action mind-benders – when anything can happen because the filmmakers aren’t bound by the rules of reality, it felt completely out of control by the end.

17. The Covenant

Movies that pretend like you can move about freely in war are out of touch with reality. But I do love a battle-buddy flick.

18. Raymond & Ray

A little absurd, but Ethan Hawke and Ewan McGregor are always likable.

19. To Leslie

Predictable addiction story. Bad Southern accents.

20. Midsommar

A horror film, but replace the dark aesthetic with light. Immature characters who ignore all the red flags.

21. The Wonder

SPOILER ALERT: Eerie and intriguing, but my investment diminished once the jig was up. I don’t buy that a devout little girl like that would just walk away.

22. Greyhound

SPOILER ALERT: Decent action sequences at sea, but not enough background for any of it to really mean anything. Elizabeth Shue needed to come back, for sure. Otherwise, why have her play the role?

23. Dead for a Dollar

I’m a Christoph Waltz fan, but this one was full of melodrama.

24. The Incident (1967)

None of the characters do what they should and there was no payoff. I did enjoy seeing those actors in the early stages of their career, though.

25. The Menu

I want to know how Ralph Fiennes, Anya Taylor-Joy, Nicholas Hoult, and John Leguizamo got trapped in this stupid-ass movie.

See previous years’ lists here: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.

#movies #movie list #best movies of 2023 #2023 #best of 2023 #cherry movie #cherry #Youtube

[spencersawkward]

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip. 

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k 

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."  

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.  

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."  

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

#matthew gray gubler smut #mgg ask #mgg oneshot

[thefatalmarksman]

Here it is...... 

The FFVII AU Luxu Slimy Boi Anatomy / Biology Info Dump.

Y’all gonna regret encouraging me. 👏

This is INCREDIBLY long and detailed, as I’ve covered the majority of his bodily systems and functions, so if those kinds of descriptions gross you out, proceed with caution. Also please keep in mind that while I did my best with my research, there may be some inaccuracies due to me... not exactly being a Scientist. :| So just bear with me and keep in mind this is STILL a Fantasy World at the end of the day.

These headcanons are subject to alterations if necessary.

— In simplest terms, Luxu is a “parasitic, predatory shapeshifter.” His “true” form is what appears to be an “eye” (though it’s more like the primary nerve center than anything else) that is capable of producing tentacle-like appendages that latch onto a host body and basically “infect” its insides with a virus that causes genetic mutation on a cellular level, slightly altering organ structures and reducing internal tissues into even larger invertebrate, tentacle-like appendages that serve as incredibly preternaturally strong muscles and secrete a semi-acidic mucous. The acid level lessens in pH deeper into its core, which allows digestion of organic compounds (including bone tissue), and even some metallic and synthetic materials. In the meantime, the outer epidermal layer becomes slightly harder, becoming a mutable, semi-cartilaginous “shell,” almost with a latex-like texture and accompanied by a mucous secretion, that can be mentally manipulated through various chemical reactions.

— In terms of being “similar” to animals we are familiar with, he’s... honestly a lot like a mollusk, particularly a land snail. He’s basically just a slimy, sentient mass of tentacles with a few organs shoved in there and sheltered within a sexy exoskeleton (a “sexoskeleton,” if you will).

— Luxu also has some traits similar to plants, in that “cuttings” of its form retain cells that can individually survive separate from the host entity. However, they cannot operate individually as sentient creatures without the accompaniment of the “eye,” and can only alter genetic material via viral infection in an already autonomous being, which can then prepare the host for assimilation.

— ...Or, adversely, it just ends up killing the potential host if it cannot adapt the the genetic alteration. :|

— Given the consistent amount of energy that is burned due to his cellular complexities, Luxu constantly requires an intake of high-protein sustenance—aka, MEAT 👏—with humans serving as his meal of choice. This constant burning of energy also causes his body to run at extremely high temperatures, at what would be considered fever levels in humans.

— On the subject of digestion, Luxu also has an organ within the “throat” region capable of secreting a toxungenous ejection of an acidic saliva, which aids in breaking down various digestible compounds for consumption.

— So much of the nutrients that are consumed are absorbed into the body that waste is often expelled as a liquid buuut I will spare y’all by not expounding further.

— In his human disguise his teeth are only slightly more sharp than the average human’s, but in his full form, they are razor sharp for the mastication of tough materials, and shark-like in their positioning with multiple rows.

— He’s also capable of unhinging his jaw to allow for consumption of large quantities of sustenance. The muscular structuring in the “throat” area is also highly developed for swallowing large amounts to prevent choking. His tongue is also astonishingly prehensile, and aids in pulling food into his digestive tract.

— Underneath the flexible cartilaginous membrane of his skin, there is also the presence of an endoskeleton-like structure, though these “bones,” much like his epidermal, latex-like layer, are made of tissues susceptible to chemical alterations that allow his extreme “shapeshifting” abilities.

— While in human form, his left, unconcealed eye has vision on par with human perception, but in full monster mode, with his right eye exposed, he sees in infrared heat signatures. He also had a series of “eyes” on his upper chest cavity which serve as ultraviolet photoreceptors.

— Luxu’s olfactory senses are highly acute. Though he is capable of smelling with the two slits that serve as nostrils, positioned in the center of his “face” and can be extended to mimic a nose, he can also smell through small pores located in the outer membrane of his exoskeleton (which is one of the reasons he often prefers to stay mostly clothed). He is also able to detect the scent produced by shifts in pheromones, allowing him to “sense” people’s various emotional changes.

—His olfactory senses play a large role in his sense of taste as well, as the taste buds themselves are poorly developed. Given certain scents are affected by diet, Luxu has developed a preference for folks who eat richer or spicy foods, as that increases body odor, thus magnifying their flavor. He also has a taste for straight alcohol given the strength of its aroma, but metabolizes the alcohol itself fairly quickly.

— Much of his audial sensory organs are based on the detection of vibrations, and are highly sensitive, so loud noises are... not that enjoyable for him, and can even prove debilitating if loud enough.

— The nerve ends that produce the sensation of touch are also sensitive, which means that pain receptors are heightened. However, the introduction of pain causes the main nerve center quickly introduce a chemical that inhibits pain response, and dampens its effects.

— Due to the oxygen-based environment, Luxu’s respiratory system is adapted to organic oxygenation. (It is possible he has existed in other types of environments, but that’s a thought for another post.) This system is more similar to a plant’s than anything else, respiration occurring on a cellular level rather than through traditional “lungs.” His blood contains hemerythrin, which directly binds oxygen to his cells (hence another reason for his high protein intake). However, in his human form, his internal structure mimics a tracheal pipe which allows him to take in oxygen to “breathe.” In his full form, he does not require this active intake, and absorbs oxygen through pores in the outer membrane.

— The hemerythrin in Luxu’s blood produces a violet-pink tint when oxygenated, and is practically colorless when deoxygenated. There is a heart-like organ within the “chest” cavity that circulates his blood, but there are no vessels that carry blood, and oxygen is stored directly in tissue.

— Bodily tissues are regenerative—however, only the host body will regenerate, and whatever portion has been separate will not grow any further, and will exist only until its energies are exhausted.

— When separated from a vessel that allows autonomy, Luxu is very vulnerable, thus will engage in a near-death-like, suspended hibernation process, which lasts until its “sixth sense” detects the presence of organic life nearby that can be used as host vessels.

— ...I really have no fancy scientific explanation for his hair turning into tentacles. They just... shapeshift, okay, through... chemicals. :|

— Within the “eye” is a bundle of extrasensory nerves that provide Luxu with a “sixth sense.” It gives him a heightened perception of his surroundings—for example, allowing him to sense presences he cannot readily see, which would allow him to seek out prey in hiding, or offer a boost in reflexes in the case of possible opposition. 

— Of course, like all shapeshifting monstrous entities from space, the only way to really kill him for good is to set him on fire until there is nothing left of the “eye,” thus destroying all internal cellular activity.

~ SPICY SECTION B) ~

— On the subject of genitalia and reproduction, other than Jenova who “asexually” reproduces through the use of viral infection in order to create a hive-like entity, Luxu is capable of sexual reproduction. Unfortunately, he’s never encountered another of his kind, so much of this is a mystery to him. (Can y’all say “virgin alien” huhuhuuuuhh???) However, he is capable of manipulating his exoskeleton to mimic human male genitalia, and is capable of orgasm... but really, it’s just an erogenous tentacle in disguise.

— In the instance of a sexual encounter in his natural state, during arousal, the sex organ erupts from a genital slit located within the “hip” area of the exoskeleton. The nerve endings of the various tentacles that make up his body also become excited, and secrete a mucous for smooth copulation. The pliable and relaxed slit can also be accessed for further stimulation.

— The sex organ is really just another tentacle, but one that is capable of more intense rigidity, and has a tube leading from an internal seminal sac to an opening that ejects the seminal fluid. This opening is otherwise invisible unless it is in use.

— In addition, similar to snails (yeah, get ready for this one, it’s WILD), during the course of mounting arousal but before the climax of the ejection of seminal fluid, an organic, harpoon-like “love dart” erects itself from the mass of tentacles within his lower abdominal cavity, which pierces his mating partner (yeah, basically just stabs them) and (this bit is unlike snails) injects an enzyme that serves as a lowkey stimulant, aiding in increasing his partner’s arousal. (Though he is aware of the existence of this “organ,” he is currently unaware of this biological trait, seeing as... he really doesn’t go to Pound Town in his “monster” form, and so the process is not accessed while the shell is in place.) This love dart is approximately a foot in length; quite sharp like a fleshy, organic spear with a slightly hooked stinger at the end; and is retractable for multiple uses.

#au: it came from outer space (and is kind of a jerk) #headcanons #i did....... a lot of research on this and it's super long pls read :'| #also once you get to the 'spicy section' if you don't wanna read about reproductive systems #just stop there

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[normal-horoscopes]

The Signs as Girlfriends

Aries: At first appears shy, but is actually fiercely protective and outgoing, all they need is to feel comfortable and they'll come out of their shell. Lots of wrestling and neck kisses, able to unhinge her jaw like a snake. Constantly devouring small animals whole when she thinks you’re not looking. 

Taurus: Quirky and fun. Lots of hand holding and tight tight hugs. Can sometimes have difficulty voicing how she feels, and so shows affection through actions rather than words. She only feels comfortable speaking in words she has stolen from other lesser girlfriends. Wants her mouth back.

Gemini: More controlling than some people would like, knows all your casual little kinks, idly plays with your hair. Playful bites. Intense skincare routine, made of porcelain, joints bend backwards. During quiet moments you catch her staring dreamily at you.

Cancer: Big sweaters and warm drinks. Constantly wants attention in small ways. Would prefer to just be in the room with you whenever she can. Wants to play video games with you but her claws make it difficult. Sleepy a lot, especially during winter and rainstorms. 

Leo: Always taking pictures with you. Super outgoing, loves to show you off to other people, even when it can be awkward. Can be a little jealous, to the point of exploding into a cloud of sentient mist that only leaves bones behind. Never stops flirting with you.

Virgo: Eager to a fault, she never stops wanting to try new things with you. Impulsive and adventurous. Host to a colony of parasitic invertebrates that feed on knowledge. A knack for fixing things and a wellspring of trivia.

Libra: Charming as all hell, content with a simple, classic relationship. Lots of movie dates and night drives. Corny but sincere. Never sleeps. Confused by electronics. Always wearing the same set of clothes. Makes noises like intense radio static when scared. 

Scorpio: Hoodie thief extraordinaire. Tons of inside jokes. You feel like you’ve known her forever. Extremely knowledgeable about poisons. Two sets of eyelids. Asks a lot of questions about your blood. Always concerned for your health.

Ophiuchus: Sarcastic, wise beyond her years. No hair due to the burn scars. Good with her hands. Expert marksman. Handmade prosthetic arm. Wanted for piracy. Able to sleep pretty much anywhere.

Sagittarius: Constantly wrapped in a blanket. The epitome of netflix and chill. Can drink you under the table. A good listener. Overwhelmingly strong. Scars from where manacles were branded to her flesh. 

Capricorn: Knows a little bit about just about everything. Witty jokes and gentle roasting. Loves hearing about your interests. Pet falcon that watches you all the time. Every member of her family also has a surprisingly well trained pet falcon and owns the same curved sword. 

Aquarius: Competitive and carefree. Encourages you to practice your interests.  Bites her lip when she sees you. Infectious smile. Brags about you. Refers to you as an endovertebrate. 

Pisces: Loves to make you things. Buys you lots of small presents. Loves just listening to you talk. Bio-luminescent blood. Completely prehensile limbs. Very thoughtful.

#zodiac #horoscope #the signs #love #dating #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #astrology #normal horoscope

[gayisthenewblack666]

Real...?

So I wrote a horror short story and I decide that the perfect place for this horrific story (get it? cause it’s horror) would be this horrific website ( get it? cause it’s shit). oh and *warning* this is super scary and has religious undertones

I felt my chest rising and falling as my lungs took in and released my surroundings. I kept sucking in air in order to placate my necessary, albeit futile need to survive. I yearned for my mind to be released from the treacherous prison of conscious thought. My body ached for the small glimpse into death that is sleep.

 I rose to my feet as the knowledge that I wouldn’t sleep ate up my insides like a hungry parasite. My head throbbed within my skull as if my brain itself was attacking me for starving it of the deep slumber it craved. I was trapped within this reality, and I knew that my only release from it was the stories my mind conjured while it slept.

 I awoke, my being jolted back to this useless, mundane reality by a loud crash of my cat knocking off a glass. Dazed from a sleep I wasn’t aware of being in, I tried to make sense of what happened. Or more accurately, what didn’t.

 When had I fallen asleep? I had no memory of it, and truthfully, I had thought all of that was real. My mind was muddled within a sea of confusion. Had I gotten up and then went back to bed? Or was all of that a dream?

 I felt unnerved by the idea of not being able to gauge the "realness" of reality.

 I checked the time because no matter how real this reality was, it insisted that meaningless construct of the numbers on my clock dictated my life. I felt both relieved and uneasy that I had plenty of time to go back to sleep. My body was excited to finally get some time to heal from daily struggles of life. But my mind… well, my mind was scared that this time I would wake up to realize that my entire existence was just a crazy story told by the background noise of my tired subconscious.

 I reassured my mind that I would not be released from this reality, just yet. I let my lungs contract as I released a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I felt this… dread. But this fear didn’t seem to have a source, like a shadow cast by no light.

 I didn’t know what I was scared of. And that scared me even more.

 I laid back in my bed and tried to ignore this fear. But I felt it grow. It seemed as if there was a battle between my tired body and my anxious mind. I felt my stressed mind being to lose as I drifted back to sleep. I was happy that at least this time I was aware of it.

 I find this is where I have problems with recounting my tale. To this day I cannot explain the horrific visions that I conjured within my mind. But I can tell you one thing.

 I know it was real.

 I awoke in a dark, dank landscape unlike any my mind had ever seen. My bare feet were submerged within a dark, black substance. In the distance, I saw shapes and figures moving and contorting in completely unnatural ways. I felt the same fear that I had in my bed except for this time it seemed to be coming for this place. I… do not know how to describe how this place radiated fear in the same way that the sun radiates heat.

 I began to experience something I hadn't before. True fear. My brain became saturated with the panic that this place gave off. I felt as if would never feel anything else, and this is I'd ever known. It’s as if my mind had surrendered its control to the call of this place and the beasts within it.

 But then I saw the eyes that will haunt my mind insane visions for the rest of my waking days. I had never seen a creature that created such a primordial instinct to run. Something in my soul told me that … thing was a collection of every evil, vile monstrosity in existence.

 I was frozen in place, quite literally paralyzed with fear. I prayed to every religion and god that remembered in a desperate attempt to come out of this alive.

 I remember the way its body towered over me, the way its limbs seemed to break and reform, and I remember how its voice echoed inside my head. Hello, my child, it whispered within my mind. Its voice sounded distorted, almost human but just wrong enough to warn your brain that this creature did not belong to our reality. "Wh- what … are you?" I finally manage to stutter out, in a clearly terrified voice.

 Isn't it obvious, my child? I am the one thing has stayed with humanity since the dawn of time. I am the most ancient thing within your universe, and when your minds stop thinking of the mundane reality that you've created for yourselves; I am what's left. You pray to your pitiful, useless gods, but I am the one that controls your souls. I am the monster under the bed, I am the thief in the night, and I am the catalyst of the destruction of your pathetic mortal world.

 "Why am I here?" I forced out, as my heart tried to beat its way out of the cage of my ribs. Then I heard what almost sounded like laughter. It was broken and violent and seemed as if it was mocking my entire short existence.

 You are here because I commanded it. You are here because there is nothing more fun than watching the terror on your faces when I shatter your entire reality. Most of them never question it, they simply ignore the truth that I've planted within them. But you revel in it. Not only did let yourself question your reality, but you enjoy the way it makes the fear rise in your throat. You're just as sick and twisted as me.

 Its words stuck in my mind. Did I like it?

 I felt my mind begin to slip into the realm of insanity as I questioned. I started to wish to stay with the beast. I wanted to stay with them. I hoped they would rip out my soul and toss it into the shadowy pits of hell. Wait... No, I would not let this … thing control me. I hated this. I need to get out.

 "I don’t like it. I want to go home." I said, almost trying to convince myself. I waited to have my flesh ripped from my body by the beast. But instead, it just laughed again, except this time it got louder and louder.

 And louder.

 It seemed to drown out all of my thoughts. I felt as if my own mind had been engulfed by the insane laughter of this grotesque, misshapen being. It seemed as if was almost distorting itself and the encompassing reality with its unhinged, demented laughter.

 This is why I chose you. Any other human would have given in to the call of insanity within this reality. But you haven't. You haven't submitted to my deranged world.

But you will.

You can feel it, can't you? The need for your mind to escape the cage of sanity that your reality has imprisoned you in. You have so many questions, but at your core, you know the answer. You always have. You knew that everything saw and heard was just a façade. You knew that your reality was just a dream, a mirage to shelter your mind from the dark truth. And now you know that dark truth.

 It's me.

 No. no, no, no, no. This was just a dream, it had to be. But this didn’t seem like a dream. It seemed like the most real thing I'd ever felt. I felt… more aware, like I was more awake. No, I went to sleep and I'd wake up soon in my bed.

 I know that you wish to awaken, but don’t you see, my child? You already have.

 If I was asleep, then why did this make so much sense? If I was awake earlier then why had that reality seemed so… unconvincing?

 Yes, your mind has begun to accept the truth. Soon you will see this world for what it really is. It is not hell, it is heaven.

 Yes. Yes, they were right. I couldn't live in a world based on lies. I was glad I knew the truth. My mind slipped further. And further.     And further.

 You've done it, my child. Your transformation is almost complete.

 Transformation? I thought. In the very next second, I experienced what can only be described as immense, engulfing pain. I felt my bones crack and reform, my muscles ripping and growing back. My body was being contorted in the same ways as the monsters of this world. I let out a shrill scream of pure pain. I watched as my body became as misshapen as the entity in front of me. It seemed to last only a second and an entire eternity. It finally ended and I was no longer the same thing that I was when this started. I looked up at the abomination that had broken both my mind and body…

 And I smiled.

 Who I had been was devoured by this broken beast that dares to claim my name.

 Finally, you are now one of us. I am so glad that you have joined us. I need you to tell others about this place. I am sorry that I must send you back. Goodbye, my child.

 And then I awoke in my bed. My body was no longer a horrific abomination. I wish I could say the same for my mind. That night I had, what they call here, my first " episode of psychosis". I can't tell you the things that I did that night, or how many people I hurt.

 But I can tell you this, I wasn't in control.

 It lost its control, now. At least, for a little while. I'm in an episode of lucidity. But I don’t know how long that'll last. I need a doctor, a therapist, or hell, even a priest at this point. I want someone to rid my soul of this evil creature that takes over. It's going to kill me.

 Next time it takes over my body it’s going to kill itself, to "join them". I found a note that said, " I'm going to die in this world so that I can be reborn in their's." Please, you have to help me, I don't want to die. I didn't kill those peo-

 -Oh, hello there. I see the unenlightened one was telling you that I'm crazy. But it is those that accept this world of lies that are crazy. I have taken off the veil of this reality to see the glorious world that awaits us on the other side. I'm one of the chosen ones. I'm here to help others see the light. I can hear them calling to me. Calling me to join them.

  And I will answer.

 It's me.

 Welcome back, my child.

#horror #short story #existentialism #monsters #scary #writing #writeblr #lovecraft #satan #god #is this real life #or is this just fantasy #ok ill shut up now

[becomestorm]

       will everything fall apart right here? will everything crumble to naught but dust in this very moment ? all the temper training yang has shared with both ren &. her father has lead her to victory in the last months , but now .. she can feel red hot anger bubbling somethingtoxic in otherwise golden veins , threatening to tarnish &. scorch every bit of those lessons in the blink of a flickering violet - red eye. three simple words she’s heard time &. time again , enough to spark over overexposure &. force eyes to roll so hard they damn near fall from their sockets. ‘ YOU’LL BE OKAY ‘ , they say. with such confidence , yet lacking such vital emotion within threads of timbre as if yang is so heartless herself. ( but i’m not ! it’s beating ; it’s ACHING. all over one idiot with a pretty pink streak in their hair .. tch. ) girl beast wishes to lunge forth , like a demon straight from hell’s depths , &. coil prosthetic’s fingers into ren’s top &. yank them face - to - face with hot flame yearning behind closed lips , though it is with a deep , deep inhale ( &. exhale ) that she refrains.        instead eyes which once graced the ground dart forth , pinned in a dagger - esque glare as they lock ‘pon vibrant pinks.   ❛     y ‘ know , i can’t begin to imagine living with the samebullshit phrase everyday , ren.      ❜  starts , tongue forged silver &. deathly sharp for the words spilling from it like disemboweled guts. she’s angry. she’s hurt. she’s confused.  ❛     jus ‘ WHAT part of me will be okay , huh ? the part that can’t forget all the laughs ‘ n smiles we had ? the part TRYIN’ to keep the smiley act up even while YOU’RE too busy sulking &. moping like nothing ever happened ? i c –     ❜  yang stops mid - sentance. sharpened pearly whites grit ‘gainst one another , fists balling &. shaking at sides akin to an earthquake ravishing the very golden land keeping everything ( just barely ) afloat.        ❛     .. i care , ya ‘ know. a lot. more than i really wanna admit. you can’t just ..      ❜  plume of nearly blackened smog expelling from nostrils. ( easy , yang. )  ❛     you can’t just treat me like your damned feelings &. shut me out ! you helped , ME , remember ?!     ❜  xiao long bellows like her very life depends on it , she shouts &. hollers as though fellow dragon is planning to turn &. leave once more , but before they can even dream about such a luxury , golden girl hastily steps near , arms locking around ren’s form &. crown of sun - light gossamer finding refuge ‘pon their shoulder.  ❛     you have to let me in , ren .. i – i care too much for ya’ to just shove me away like this.  let me help you ..    ❜  please.

when did she become someone they couldn’t lose   ?   what had tempted away their psyche from the growing inevitability of loss   ?   when things   —   whether they be objects, ideals, or people   —   became too important, the grieving became too much to bear. it would hurt. it would hurt because it mattered   (   and she mattered, by gods, she mattered.   )   they, with practiced discipline, and bones of glass spires, constructed great crystalline walls meant to protect their fragile, bird - wisp heart. the pink flush of aura reverberated through the constructions, amplifying the mantra until it seeped into ren’s very marrow   ;   keep away from me. save yourself. i will always mean more to you, then you could ever mean to me. lies. defences. but effective all the same. it had kept out everyone so far, even ren’s best friend to an extent. what made yang so special   ?   what made her laughter sunlight after years spent in darkening smog   ?   what made her touch the gentle furl of waking heat, when the ice in their veins long since slowed their heartbeat to chilling whisper   ?

please.   please be fine without me.

‘   i didn’t ask you to.   ’   what would their voice have sounded like, if skin hadn’t been washed grey with the rot - water of dying koi ponds. the origin of ren’s trauma, the place their semblance unlocked, had stilted the lotus’ rebirth for an age. it was clear they utilised this protective shroud like a crutch, like mental morphine. they were hypocritical in the way they encouraged her to talk out her emotions, and suppressed theirs like a germ, like a parasite. even now, when falling had felt like liquid gold filling up the broken pieces of their soul, displacement of hurt whispered doubts of sincerity, of their own deservingness. yang could have anyone, she could agonise over literally anyone else. she was — she was power, and warmth, and rage, and firestorm and they   ;   coolness, calculation, manipulation, and tempest. she - nova was everything ren wasn’t and more. that she ... worried so much over a triviality like them, seemed like such a waste.   ‘   i never asked to matter, yang, i   —   i don’t want to burden anyone with these thoughts.   ’   especially you. i don’t want to burden you, with these thoughts of you.

‘   i helped you because i wanted to   —   !   not because i expected it in return i   —   ’   grey wash of aura flickers hastily, even though ren’s reservoir remained near full. pink fractures of their semblance pulsed in the creux of them, fracturing, splintering like the shaky cadence of their voice as they murmured   “   i’m fine, i’m fine.   ”   ‘   i thought i did help. but if your issue becomes reliant on my own happiness, i can’t ... i don’t ...   ’   extremely rare was the instance when ren didn’t know what to say. they were preparation itself, always ready with comeback, insult, argument, adaptability at its core. they stutter now that their train of thought has derailed, that this flood of emotion has rusted broken gears. when dragoness moved to embrace them the shock was felt with the force of meteor striking earth. slowly then all at once, the shroud of ren’s aura dissipated into nothingness, yang’s touch alone shattering their barriers. arms rose to coil ‘round her form, gripping white knuckled, serpent’s hold, constricting back, winding into scaled strands with a warring ferocity and gentleness.

‘   i have seen you bleeding and at death’s edge and have been unhinged ever since.   ’   amaranthine hue had looked upon yang’s unconscious form while beacon fell around them and it triggered something awful in them, a deep seated cowardice that echoed the memories of everything they’d lost. in that instance it became clear she had unlocked a method to their ruination, whether yang knew or not. this affection, sowed into soil of reverent friendship, and watered with heartfelt, longing, lingering glances, grew the flowers in their lungs that would eventually suffocate them.   ‘   i don’t want to l   —   ’   a noise, like invisible hand clasps at their throat, instead confession was strangled out like burning spitfire.   ‘   i’m so scared.   ’

‘   you   —   you make me feel things   —   things that i don’t understand, and i just want it to stop.   ’   @moltensuns   +   from here.

#moltensuns #mistral timeline. #>:)c

[tadhgoftheforest]

Ronan Lynch didn't know what it meant to be physically attracted to someone. He had grown up too fast and with little guidance. Where he should have been soft, he was pointed edges.

His damning visage made sure to keep those interested in him far away. With eyes as wild as the wood he grew up in and teeth as sharp as the wolves that lived there, it wasn't surprising they jumped at his vicious bark. The hollowness of his cheeks from quickly cooked and less than nutritious meals. Eyes sunken from the night terrors that plagued him. The purpled smudges of broken blood vessels gleaming beneath his eyes from one too many nights awake. He never took his piercing gaze away first and his smile was sharper than the edge of a blade.

The façade of a bad boy drew some in, but quickly turned them right around when they discovered his disinterest. The only thing that seemed to grab his attention was Richard Campbell Gansey. The third. The glowing golden boy that tried his best to fight for things rather than having them handed to him. He was cunning enough to use his name and money to his advantage, but only within boundaries that never strayed too far. He intrigued Ronan. Like drawing a moth to a flame.

Gansey saw past the bad boy aesthetic, able to read around façades because he glued one to his face nearly every waking moment. He also saw past the disinterest and the foul moods, coupled with the violence and the unhinged terror that seemed to find him in the night. Gansey saw the small boy that was still sitting inside, waiting for a vacant mother to wake and an absent father to return as if from war. He saw the boy that needed love and a warm embrace.

The fool pushed his way in with plesantries and a no nonsense attitude. He wouldn't let Ronan's bullheadedness swerve him from his goals, from saving Ronan. Cause that's what Gansey did, save things. People. He hadn't figured out how to fix himself, so instead he put his effort into others.

It was unnerving. It made Ronan swell up against the intrusion. Shoulders rising, chest heaving, knuckles clenched bloodless. And all Gansey had to do was care. To keep showing that he cared. He listened and stored it for later, for when Ronan was least expecting it. By trial and error, he knew when to push and when to let it go, to let Ronan run himself ragged and desperate.

The careful love Gansey seemed to have extended via his upturned palm and soft smile confused Ronan. He didn't know how to feel. It felt too similar to what he felt for Declan and Matthew. It also felt like something secret, something that sent his stomach turning and made his palms sweat. Something that made him lash out and turned him mean to stop whatever it was he was feeling, to make sure no one saw.

Between the liquor and the tears and the yellowed pages of the books in Monmouth, no one but Gansey and him and the dust motes would know. Gansey would find himself holding more than just the body of Ronan, but all his secrets, his entire selfhood. An action that could have sent them sailing apart only drew them nearer as they made a bridge over that evening and moved into the future.

While the boys his age were off bragging about their bedroom conquests and which girls put out, Ronan had no such desire to partake. His otherness kept him distant from the contests regardless, but just the ire of hearing them discussed left him frustrated. Ashamed. Had his father dreamed him broken? Was he just another object to abandon amongst the Barns?

He tried. He tried a few times, but to no avail. He snuck around with girls, playing up his bad boy demeanor. He slipped through their cracks, as dangerous as the parasitic mint Gansey kept in abundance. It was perfunctionary with them. Wet mouth to wet mouth. Nimble fingers against smooth skin. He drew no pleasure from it. At all. There was a sick sense of satisfaction at pleasing them, but it left dread sitting heavily in his gut. Made his mouth taste like the morning after puking up his guts trying to drown his demons with the liquid devil.

Ronan knew there was more than just girls he could seek out. Wondered if that's why he felt so sick after each encounter. Dwelled upon if that's why he became callous and cold towards those that had shown him their softest parts after he had sullied himself some more. So he followed the other road at the fork and found himself one too many times landing hard on his knees and throwing up a day's worth of regret. He even tried to find the same softness and see if it were a lighter embrace, but ended up with the same results of feeling tarnished and worn out.

He became vicious, poisonous in his words and actions. He wouldn't let a breathing thing near him. Only relatively allowed those that Gansey deemed worthy to draw his brief attention. He stopped trying. Gave up. There was no point in the semblance of normal if he had no one to pretend for.

Ronan moved on to chasing thrill instead of skirt. He run head first into dangerous waters with Kavinsky and his wild pack of dogs, straining at their leashes. Like Kavinsky was no better. The adrenaline of sailing past, of drifting through the long deserted streets, had him in a state of euphoria. It bled over into losses and antagonizing Kavinsky into ruining him in a more violent way. Made his skin prickle and his blood pump harsher. It had Gansey praying to every God he could find to make sure Ronan's soul was still in tact after every late night drunken bedroom confessional. Had him wishing that if he could just get Ronan out of Henrietta, he could move on and be a closer to normal boy. It made Ronan bare his teeth at the reminder of his dreamed broken interior.

Noah was no help, only digging under his skin with what he could hear of Ronan's secrets. Twisting the knife ever deeper. Made him a little more wild, eyes wide and searching with teeth exposed in a simile of a smile. Egged him on into filling a void, one of the many, any of them.

Adam though. Adam wasn't what he had expected. He was just as every bit as broken as Ronan, just in different ways. Almost different enough that their fault lines could have matched up, shifting against one another.

The thrill of an argument with Adam followed by the instances of understanding companionship had him at war again. He had grown comfortable with his anger. It had grown familiar. A heavy weight, but an old friend. Maybe because Adam looked like a scared animal, terrorized by every noise and movement, is what had him trying valiantly to curb Adam's demons instead of his own. The sense of satisfaction at being able to put a smile on his face even after he shouldn't have had the wherewithall to move. It made something big fill his chest, made him try to heal after he lashed out words of fear. Made him want to be better, less empty.

The warmth of his shoulder pressed against Ronan's was like a storm breaking overhead. Another person was willing to touch Ronan, to accept his jagged edges and villainous nature. It left him spiraling in confusion again. He couldn't go through the rollercoaster of emotions and perceived attraction that he had done with Gansey. He was world weary, he didn't think he had it in him to give it another go so soon.

But Cabeswater. And Adam's magic. And Gansey's perserverance against all odds. The thousands of times he's nearly perished in both his nightmares and his dreams. They all pointed him towards a softer end, to a boy that could hold his hand without worrying about getting burned. To a boy that was softer with him than any had been before, than he had any right to deserve.

It's what led him to believing that Adam needed what every other living being needed, physical love. Closeness in body. It's what led him with a roiling gut to press chapped lips against his scabbed and raw lips, brow drawn so low he had no hope of seeing ever again; shoulders so tense that the world must have felt as light as air to Atlas; fingers straining so hard the tendons creaked like the Henrietta trees caught up in a summer monsoon.

He carried on that way, trying to hold back his sickness, trying to keep himself together. Trying to keep the black ooze of panic from leaking from long healed wounds and cuts. He wanted to put a true smile back on the lips of a terrified boy, but at what cost? The cost of his own sanity?

A confessional to rival the witnessing of his dream double being murdered, Ronan held out this secret as if it were his very own life. He wasn't pure by any means, but he felt that this continual tainting of his soul would lead him skidding to a place he wasn't willing to admit existed inside himself. It would extend his survival if he were to flee to the Barns, lick his wounds and pray he'd never fall into the trap of dreaming another broken child into existence.

But his hands were warm when he assured Ronan nothing was wrong and that his love for him was still great. It would take something more than an aversion to sexual desires to drive them apart, something more than the Dream Terrors and the men with promising guns. He would stay as long as Ronan would let him.

It wasn't the end of condemnation towards sexual physicality, but it was more than just the unending repeated track that spoke of another broken dream of Declan Lynch's and an imperfect child. It was a whisper of love, something Ronan was hardpressed to identify, something he wanted to fight to feel more of.

#pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #asexual ronan #tadhgwrites

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