it's a

It's a liddol guy

Orrrrrrr

TWO liddol guys!!!

Noticed recently that iskall's "bad" eye is the same shade of blue as Jevin's skin....

Today's unholy hours, bunnies

"This is exactly what you wanted, doll. Isn't it? Just what you need. Am I right?" Yeosang whispered in your ear, his deep, husky voice sending a shiver down the length of your spine.

The sound of your soft, half-choked moaning rang out in the evening silence of the practically empty library. The corner behind the tall bookshelves provided enough privacy for the two of you at this late hour, hiding you from the staff and other students who might accidentally wander into the most remote section of the Ancient Korean Literature section.

Yeosang's sneering laugh is accompanied by a particularly hard thrust of his hips while his cold, hard hands press you more firmly against the wooden table.

"And what? I'm not going to get a single sarcastic comment from you to answer that, bunny? The cat's got your tongue."

Any attempt at a reply or contradiction is cut short by the powerful, deep thrusts of Yeosang's hips as he drives his thick, wiry cock deeper into your screaming, needy cunt. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that it practically knocked all the air out of your lungs.

You hated him. You hated him so fucking much, but the feeling was stronger than you. Yeosang was making you crazy, and trying to deny feeling attracted to him was just stupid.

You wanted to turn away from the wicked, sneering grin on the handsome blond sempai's face, but he wouldn't let you. Yoe kept your fierce, defiant gaze on his angelic face, digging his fingers into your soft cheek and covering your mouth with his palm, so that you could barely breathe, choking on your own moans as Yeosang continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Such obedience; I like you much more like this, doll~"

Your hands clutched at his shirt, crumpling the once perfectly ironed fabric, your nails scratching across his collarbones and the bulging muscles of his chest, leaving bright red scratches on his skin, when you rolled your eyes at the feeling of the orgasm that was about to come. Fuck, it was too good to be true, and you knew full well that you'd be kicking yourself for it afterwards, but fuck, Yeosang was fucking divine.

Who would have thought that your angelic sempai, Kang Yeosang, could be a real freak in bed?

You couldn't even make a sound of protest—just a whimper as he slowed his movements, denying you pleasure for the third time today. Fucking bastard. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you squirmed in your seat, letting out a muffled, frustrated moan that was too loud, even though Yeosang was still covering your mouth with his hand. The sharp sensation of your orgasm slowly began to fade into a small, pulsating stream of pleasure.

You were so wet you were probably sitting in a puddle of your own slime, judging by the nasty squelching sound you heard when Yeosang's cock was halfway out of your cunt. The amusement that danced in his foxy hazel eyes was so obvious and only grew as you raised your tearful puppy eyes up to him, and your coarseness and defiance dissolved into a silent plea for him to finally let you cum.

"Oh, wilful little slut wants to cum? Not such a cheeky little thing anymore, Y/N, eh? I told you to be quiet, doll. If you want to finally come on my cock, be quiet; otherwise, I'll be the one who cum tonight." That's how deep and sultry his voice was; it was just illegal. How could you resist him?

You nod desperately at what he says, and Yeosang responds by smiling smugly. The sweet expression on his face hides his sinister intentions as he begins to move again, this time with an even harder and more brutal thrust. His taut balls slap against your pussy with each rhythmic movement, and you bite his hand, causing the handsome sempai to hiss slightly in pain.

"You little bitch..." Yeosang hissed, changing the angle of his movements so that the head of his thick cock was now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and this time he had no intention of stopping.

You tensed, feeling the almost painful throbbing of your approaching orgasm, your eyes rolling back as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over you, shaking you to the core. For all your hatred of Yeosang, it was worth it. His cock was made of fucking gold.

His moans were barely audible as you clenched around his cock, his warm, thick seed staining the walls of your womb, and your pussy seemed to pull him even deeper in and hold him there, clinging tightly to the velvety length of his cock. All your senses were overloaded with pleasure, and every heavy sigh and every growling wheeze that Yeosang emitted seemed to prolong your orgasm, driving you deeper and deeper into a state of euphoria until you felt no connection to your body and black dots began to dance before your eyes.

When you finally managed to regain consciousness, you were lying on his lap, and your clothes had been returned to the tidy state they had been in before. You looked lazily around, still feeling heavy and unable to move. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as your still slightly unfocused gaze fell on the book in his hand.

"Are you serious, Yeosang? Classical poetry? You've just fucked my brains out, and you're still behave yourself like a good boy? Of course, the exemplary sempai, Kang Yeosang."

"Ah, now that cheeky mouth of yours is back again. I guess you haven't learned your lesson, doll; you have to be quiet in the library."

TRIPLE THREAT

Eleanor was rich, mean, spoiled and entitled. She was a pretty blonde girl with rich parents and massive social status. As head cheerleader she policed the popular girls.

Lia was slutty, curvy, sexual and nasty. She was a dirty chav slut with massive tits, fake nails, blowjob lips and a mean attitude. She ran the chav gang that dealt with the bad girls.

Together they were the two nastiest girls in school and everyone was scared of them. However they hated each other with a passion and spent most of their time fighting. That wasn't entirely by accident of course.

For years - nerdy Rosa had cleverly played the two of them off against each other. She'd engineered it so they came to hate each other and now spent most of their time fighting.

Until tonight.

A hasty email sent to the wrong person had accidentally exposed her manipulation. Now the two bitches were chasing her home, determined to kick her ass.

Rosa had detoured through the old waste ground hoping to deter her assailants. It had once been the dumping ground for a huge chemical plant and the whole area was sealed off - but after 15 years the chain link fence had plenty of holes in it and she had slipped through.

So unfortunately had Eleanor and Lia.

Both girls were fitter than her and gaining fast. Rosa scrambled up a small mound and seeing a rusted barrel at the top grabbed it and used it to steer her momentum. It toppled over as she passed and the rusted metal split.

Thick black goop surged out and Rosa heard Lia and Eleanor shouting in alarm.

"Ughhhh like what IS this stuff?" squealed Eleanor. "My Chanel is like RUINED! You are soooo dead."

"You fucking bitch, you ruined my Nike trainers," screamed Lia.

Turning around Rosa saw her two bullies had been engulfed in a puddle of black slime. They tried to step forward and both screamed as they fell over into the puddle.

Black ooze surged over their bodies and coated their skin... their hair. They grunted and groaned, dragging themsleves out of the puddle still dripping in slime.

"What the hell is this stuff," gurgled Lia soporfically, "I feel fucking weird."

She turned and grabbed Eleanors arm to help haul her out of the puddle and grunted in surprise. Her skin flowed like wax and seemed to melt and merge into Eleanors arm. Both girls moaned and gasped in surprise.

"Ughhh what's happening... I'm melting into you," groaned Lia. "I need... I need to merge with you."

The two seemed magnetically drawn together. Eleanor grabbed Lia and pulled her in close and the other girl eagerly slid her arms around her. They began to kiss, their bodies flowing and melting into each other.

"Ohhhh fuck yes, that feels gooood" groaned Eleanor as with wet sucking sounds the two of them combined.

Spinning Eleanor around Lia thrust her hips and grunted as she slid forward. Now they were joined at the hip - Lia's large ass and Eleanor's tight pussy perfectly merged in their lower torso.

They fell into the black goop rolling around in the slime, moaning and gasping in pleasure as their bodies melted into each other.

"Yessss I fucking love it... I need more," groaned Lia scooping up the goo and ripping off her clothes.

Naked the two bitches rubbed and scissored, melting in and out of each other... their forms becoming as one. Wet pops and cracking sounds, grunts and moans filled the air. Pussies gushed with juices and sexual screams of pleasure rose high.

"Yessssss... get inside me you bitch," grunted Lia as Eleanor moaned in her arms.

"Mmmmmh we're becoming one. I can feel your big tits on my chest, your slutty claws on my fingers. I LOVE THIS," orgasmed Eleanor.

Lia giggled and lifted a merged arm. Sharp nails glinted on the end. "Mmmmh I always wanted to be a rich spoiled blonde. We can be so evil together. The two biggest bullies in school, stronger... smarter... sluttier."

"Yesssss let's join together and rule forever," laughed Eleanor.

With a wet sucking sound, arms and legs slid together and faces met. With a slurp the merge completed and a new Goddess was born. She rose from the black goo and it seemed to solidify on her body taking the form of a stylish figure hugging black dresa.

The new bitch was an obscene blend of Eleanor and Lia. She was beautiful rich and stylish like Eleanor, but possessed the curves and hungry slutty look of Lia. She laughed sluttily as she grabbed her big tits and squeezed.

"You fucking loser - you have created a Goddess. We are no longer Eleanor and Lia. I AM ELLIE."

Striding forward - black high heels forming out of the goop Ellie towered over Rosa and grabbing her hair forced her down to her knees.

"In fact I am Goddess Ellie. I am all the nastiest most evil parts of my former selves. I also have double the strength, stamina and sexual urges of a normal woman. I have become super human."

A hand closed round Rosa's throat and she gurgled as Ellie lifted her effortlessly from the ground as if she weighed nothing. The other girl was clearly inhumanely strong and Rosa noted she was nearly six foot in height... an amazon Goddess.

"That's right bitch - enjoy looking at me. Don't you wish you could look like this? Well don't worry... you can!"

With a laugh Ellie hurled Rosa into the puddle of black slime and the nerd screamed as ahe began to sink into the ooze.

Turning on her heels Ellie grinned and began to walk into the slime. "With you as part of us, we will be even more powerful. You manipulated us both for years - you're smart, intelligent and cunning. Soon we will be too. Don't worry loser - this is going to feel soooooo good."

Rosa screamed as her bully pushed her down into the slime... and everything went dark.

********

Ellie-Rose adjusted her booted heel so that her male slave could better lick the shiny latex.

She watched him lapping away whilst idly examining her phone and watching the push notifications indicating another $1000 dollars had just been transfered to her account by one of her other subs.

That was $10,000 this week and it was only Tuesday.

Kicking her slaves face away with a bored bitchy look she instructed him to open the door of her Bentley. She had just arrived at her Bulls house.

Walking down the drive to her black lovers mansion, her pussy already tingling at the thought of the pounding it was about to receive from his thick black cock - she idly scrolled through other messages on her phone.

Ellie-Rose's cruel lips twisted into a smile as she saw the message from her science team.

"Goddess - the goop has been synthesized and is available for mass production."

Sliding down her panties and throwing them into a bush for her slave to retrieve and sniff later, she walked into her bulls home wet and ready to fuck whilst her hands slid her phone back into her handbag.

Her final action before she let go was to push the send button on her response.

Proceed...

THE END

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

Prompt   Masterpost  Previous   Next

 Part two people!!!

@zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @molasses-being-slow @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04

Danny woke up with the smell of ash and burning plastic suffocating him. Beeps and whistles of malfunctioning machinery warning him of his eminent demise cried louder than he did. His body felt stiff and his head pounded like someone bashed it in with the creep stick. Something about him felt... Wrong like he’d been chopped and quartered but was somehow still partly alive.

With a gasp of putrid air Danny’s hand flew towards his face tugging at cheeks that were way too chubby with hands too tiny to be his. A slime-like substance clung to his skin pooling in a goopy mess below him. It smelled rotten like something dad pulled out the back of the freezer. The goop was reddish with bits of green shining through the foul smelling mess. His stomach churned the longer he stared at it and for a split second Danny swore he saw a melted finger sticking out of it. It melted into the gunk as quickly as he spotted it.The panel that’d previously been embedded in his flesh sat in the middle of the viscous fluid like a garnish for the worlds worst soup.

a crackling zap of electricity brought his attention back to the roaring flames only a few feet beside him. Danny strained, power buzzing at his fingertips cooling his palms but fizzling out with droplets of the gory fluid frozen to his skin. You’d get more cold air from a plastic pinwheel! Shoving his hands into open flames with an unknown fluid coating his body and no ice powers to back him up was a stupid idea even for him. He was all for the “Fuck around and find out mindset,” but not when there was nobody around to laugh at him for his dumbassery. 

Sam...

Tucker...

Jazz...

He’d never hear the end of it if he died from his own stupidity again. Now that he was pretty much powerless a fire extinguisher would be more useful than his hands for now. Alterra might be a little shady but it was a life pod, there had to be a fire extinguisher stashed away somewhere, right? 

Danny all but slipped out of the seat, the shoulder guards too wide to ever hold his now tiny body. His stomach lurched as his foot sank down into the viscous puddle. Searching around a burning life pod with what could possibly be his liquefied corpse was the scariest crap that would ever happen to him on this trip. A fire extinguisher sat propped up against what should have been the seat of another survivor. Danny snatched it up, the canister half his body size. Maybe when he wasn’t at risk of burning to death that’d be scarier to him?

Aiming at the roaring flames Danny squeezed the trigger so hard his hands shook. Instead of the messy thick foam he was used to back home, this fire extinguisher sprayed out a powdery mist snuffing the flames in seconds before dissipating into thin air like it’d never been sprayed in the first place.

…

Alterra was on another level.

Wait.

Why didn’t they have these at home?! 

Fires broke out several times a day at Fenton Works! You’re telling him instead of spending half an hour hurting himself cleaning  “Fenton anti-ghost fireform” he could’ve been using one of these babies?! There were barely any scorch marks on the walls! You could hardly tell that just a few seconds ago there was a wall of flames that reached the ceiling. This fire extinguisher was coming home with him, he’d make sure of that.

In fact, this fire extinguisher was his new best friend, his Wilson if you will. He and Wilson would be going on so many adventures from here on out. To any normal person, it might’ve seemed a little odd that he was humanizing an inanimate object so soon; but to Danny, it was just on theme. He hadn’t stepped foot outside but he could feel the life pod dipping rhythmically with what Danny hoped was water. 

The life pod hadn’t started melting yet so it’s probably not acid. If it did turn out to be boring old water it’d be immensely disappointing  He wasn’t saying he wanted to land in a viscous metal-eating acid... But landing on an alien planet composed mainly of giant seas of acid would be a pretty metal way to die a third time. Ancients knows he needed something cool to happen to him after dying from something as mundane as a panel flying off the wall. Yes, he counted that as a death, he was turned into goo and it smelled awful.

Danny’s eyes darted around the life pod. There’s a latter in the middle of the pod leading to the top hatch soft light from a clear blue sky shining through the glass. The bottom hatch was pure metal, the type of hatch you’d expect to see on a futuristic submarine. He didn’t want to leave the life pod, not yet at least. No matter how foul the life pod smelled, he would die if he left now.

He was naked as the day he was born with zero weaponry to defend himself. If his parents had designed these life pods they would’ve been armed to the teeth and stocked full of fudge. Toddling past the ladder Danny went about searching through the storage units he could reach. Nutrient blocks... Flares... Some water

Come on Alterra! 

Where was all the cool stuff? Propulsion guns, stasis rifles, teleporters?!! You’d think one of the biggest space exploration programs in the universe could afford to stock the life pods with something cooler than bricks of food and sparklers. Sure there were the futuristic-looking suits but those wouldn’t fit him in a million years!  Danny pulled a glowing blue tablet out of one of the suit’s backpack. Danny remembers being denied one of these things at orientation because “You’re too young Danny, there’ll always be an adult with a PDA on hand to help you,” Glancing around the life pod he gasps dramatically.  Oh no~ there’s no adult in sight guess nobody could stop him from using the forbidden blue tablet.

He snickers, and starts tapping his pudgy fingers against Alterra’s precious tablet. With his mocking taps the tablet jumps to life a bright blue glow flashed in his face as Alterra’s logo began to spin on it’s screen.

“Alterra~” The tablet sang in a robotic tone as it began to boot up.

“You have suffered minor head trauma. this is considered an optimal outcome,” Danny side-eyes the metal sheet on the ground as the PDA continues.

“This PDA has now been rebooted in emergency mode with one directive: to keep you alive on an alien world please refer to the databank for detailed survival advice. Good luck.” The robot lady finished her little speech leaving Danny to swipe through the tabs of the PDA. Tucker would kill to get his hands on technology like this! Apparently, the PDA monitored his vital signs, supposedly had hundreds of blueprints before the crash, is waterproof and temperature resistant had a pretty good microphone and camera. The PDA itself was easy to interact with or it was until Allterra's spinning logo of death decided to flashbang him again.

“ Attention. Alterra does not approve of child labor for those under the age of two years old,”

What.

“This PDA will bypass certain rules with the sole purpose of accessibility and keeping you alive. Alterra gives their sincerest apologies for your involvement,”

….

Okay, now he had access to the suits in smaller sizes. Only downside was now the entire PDA was babying him! He could read Ancient’s damn it! Rummaging through the settings for a few minutes, he finds he can turn off certain features of baby mode but shutting it off completely wasn’t even an option. Honestly, Danny was just happy he could turn the robot voice back on; it was better than baby mode’s default. He didn't know why the soft, loving tone mimicking that of a mother soothing her child made his eyes start to water. He just knew he never wanted to hear it thrown at him as a manipulative tactic to keep him calm devoid of any of the love it pretended to offer.

With a sniffle, Danny runs his hands over one of the suits. It's like leather, with a waxy silicone sheen. He drags it to the fabricator allowing his PDA adjust the proportions of the suit. The fabricator sparks to life dark blue lasers disintegrating the suit into nothing before reassembling it into something completely new in a matter of minutes. What Danny picked off the fabricator was a tiny wetsuit warm to the touch and easy to put on.

With his newly improved wetsuit, Danny sucks in a breath turning the valve of the bottom hatch. There was a hiss of air escaping and Danny was met with lapping ocean waters and colorful fish darting around what looked to be giant coral tubes. Danny dipped his feet in the water and when they didn't melt into a conglomerate mess of flesh and bone Danny grabbed Wilson to join him as he pushed himself out of the life pod.

Flying in the ghost zone could be just like swimming sometimes and while it was much harder to tread water with tiny legs and a fire extinguisher in your backpack Danny was doing just fine. Treading up to the surface he gasped for air clinging onto the orange airbags keeping the life pod afloat. It was then that Danny saw the wreckage of the Aroura engulfed in flames.

"The Aurora suffered orbital hull failure. Cause: unknown. Zero human life signs detected"

When Soap Isn't Enough

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: No matter how many times Astarion scrubbed himself down, he just couldn't feel clean. So he accepts Cas's offer to help him out.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: Hair washing, references to past trauma, non-sexual nudity.

Astarion tilted his head back onto the lip of the bathtub and closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the clean water and the soothing aroma of lavender scented bath oil. It was technically his second bath of the evening. The first one had been dedicated to ridding himself of so much filth he was surprised he was allowed through the doors of the Elfsong. The second was just for his own sanity.

As if traversing the sewers beneath Baldur’s Gate wasn’t bad enough, some lunatic had summoned an army of grease mephits and one thing led to another and… well, Gale blew them up. But not before one of them managed to slime Astarion head to toe. Blinded and covered in grease, the little bastard then shoved him into a puddle of sludge. But everyone was so concentrated on surviving the encounter, Astarion did not have time to feel embarrassed about his condition.

The only thing Cas could offer him on the long walk back to the Elfsong was a cloak and a few rags to wipe himself up. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than nothing and he appreciated the gesture.

He was also grateful that Cas had gotten them a separate room from the others. It meant that fewer people got to see him in such a state, and he enjoyed the privacy it afforded him and Cas for several reasons.

The space wasn’t very big. Beside the washroom, all their room had was a bed big enough for two and a dresser to keep their belongings. But it was cozy. Rich wood tones and warm lantern light gave the place a very homey feel. He kind of liked it.

Astarion splashed a bit of water on his face. No matter how many times he scrubbed himself down, he still felt the grease. It wasn’t there. He could see it wasn’t there. But, somehow, he still felt like he couldn’t get clean.

“Astarion?” Cas called from the outside the washroom, her voice just loud enough to hear through the thick wooden door. “Do you mind if I pop in for a second? I just want to grab my hairbrush. I promise I won’t look.”

He rolled his eyes. “Darling, you’ve already seen everything,” he said and picked up the bar of soap again. “The door’s unlocked.”

Cas slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Though he really didn’t mind if she looked, she kept her eyes off of him. Instead, she made a beeline for the vanity and quickly found her hairbrush. “Are you starting to feel better?”

“Mostly,” he said and began to scrub his arm with soap again. “But I still feel like there’s grease everywhere. On my skin, under my fingernails, in my hair. I’m sitting in water and I’m still probably flammable.”

There was a soft snort of laughter. “Want to try washing with some vinegar?”

The suggestion made Astarion’s lip curl with disgust. “I’m trying to smell better, my love, not worse,” he said and started washing his other arm. “Though if you have any more of that lavender scented shampoo, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Of course,” Cas replied brightly and retrieved the bar of shampoo from her toiletry bag. “Do you have any interest in letting me wash your hair for you?”

Astarion’s brow drew together as his hand paused mid-scrub. “Wash my hair?” he repeated back dumbly. “Why?”

She shrugged. “It feels good and I want to,” she said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “No pressure. Just thought I would put the offer out there.”

“I— Why are you like this?” he asked, making her laugh again. “You know how I feel about you being too nice to me.”

It was a conversation they had countless times in a dozen different ways. The answer was always the same, but he still struggled to wrap his head around it. It was because she cared about him. She cared about him in a way that no one else ever had. With patience and respect, but willing to stand her ground with him when she needed to. Even if she flooded him with sweet gestures, they all came from the heart.

For Cas, one of the main ways she showed affection was through physical touch. Due to his complicated feelings towards sex and other such activities, they decided to have a more caste relationship for a while. Given how frequently they found themselves tangled in blankets during the early stages of their relationship, Astarion thought Cas would have some difficulty with the change.

But she didn’t.

It had been almost a month, and Cas never once tried to pressure him into anything more. Though there were a few instances where their kisses turned a little too heated, she never had a problem with pulling back. Never got upset with him for denying her the physical pleasure she so clearly craved.

Of course, Astarion didn’t hold it against her. She still had certain needs, and he was glad that she didn’t try to deny that for his sake. But he was also glad that she respected his wishes and didn’t try to guilt him over his decision.

Cas held out the bar of shampoo to him and said, “Up to you.”

“Fine,” he replied, sounding about as enthusiastic as a teenager who had been told to wash dishes. “Just try not to get soap in my eyes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to get soap in your eyes,” she said as if he were being completely ridiculous. Then she pulled the stool in front of the vanity over to the tub and took a seat behind him. “Sit forward a bit so I don’t get water outside the tub.”

A little reluctantly, he did as he was told, letting his arm rest atop his bent knees as casually as he could. Yet, despite his outward demeanor, his stomach knotted and his throat tightened. He couldn’t quite place why.

Cas had seen him naked plenty of times between changing his clothes in front of her or when they went to bed together. So it wasn’t his nudity. 

Maybe it was just the position.

Naked, vulnerable, with his back presented to someone seated behind him. His teeth clenched as his fingers dug into his leg, hidden beneath the soapy water. He exhaled, but tried to make the sound seem bored or impatient instead of a calming exercise. It wasn’t Cazador, and there wasn’t a knife. It was Cas, and a fucking bar of soap.

He needed to pull himself together.

“Close your eyes for a second,” Cas said as she dipped a cup into the water.

As soon as he closed his eyes water cascaded over his hair and down his neck. It was warm and soothing. Then she poured another cup of water on him, slowly, until every bit of his hair was dripping wet. 

Ever so carefully, Cas ran her fingers through his hair and pulled it back away from his face. A little smile came to his lips. “How would you feel if I started slicking my hair back?”

“I have no opposition as long as you don’t use so much product that your hair looks crunchy.”

He furrowed his brow. “Crunchy?”

“Like Raphael’s.”

“His hair looks more greasy than anything.”

Cas hummed, sounding skeptical, and lathered up the bar of shampoo. “Take a closer look next time he slithers out of Hell. I bet if you touched it it would sound like a crumpled newspaper.”

“I’m not risking getting grease on myself again to find out what that devil’s hair sounds like,” he said, sounding indignant even as he wanted to smile.

It was funny how that worked. One second he was slipping back into one of his worst memories, and then the next Cas was making him want to laugh. It was so easy. It felt almost natural. That whenever he began to slip into darkness, she was always right there ready to direct him towards the light. Sometimes without trying at all.

Cas tilted his head back gently and began to work her soapy fingers through his hair. She started near his hairline, rubbing her fingertips in tiny circles as she worked her way over his scalp. It felt nice. Really nice.

Soon, Astarion found himself closing his eyes. The smell of lavender, the warm water of the bath, and a soothing massage relaxed the bundle of anxiety in his belly. Most of it, at least. Even though he knew in his heart that Cas wouldn’t take advantage of him, he couldn’t completely suppress that twinge of fear.

Part of him still expected Cas to push him. To trail her fingers down his chest, or to dip her hand beneath the water and tread even lower. Cas had never done something like that, and he didn’t think she ever would, but the worry lingered. That, somehow, this kind and sweet woman he knew was just a facade. That Cas was just like everyone else who wanted him just for his body.

Cas placed her hand just above his brow and said, “Keep your eyes closed.” Shielding his face the best she could, she washed away the shampoo. Between each rinse, she massaged his scalp and combed her fingers delicately through his hair. 

“I think I got all the grease out,” she said and dunked her hands in the water to remove the lingering suds on her skin. “I have a light oil for your hair if you’d like. It smells nice and it’ll make your hair soft and easy to comb.”

It sounded wonderful. Especially the thought of her fingers gliding through his hair again as he melted into her touch. But his stomach knotted, and he shook his head. “I think I’m alright, my love,” he said and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

If Cas was at all disappointed by his refusal, it didn’t show on her face. She just gave his hand a little squeeze. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his damp forehead and said, “Any time.” 

With that, she dried her hands off on a towel hanging over the edge of the tub and put the stool back under the vanity. Then she picked up her hairbrush and started towards the door. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said and gave him a smile before she left the room.

Astarion sighed once he heard the door click shut behind her. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he already regretted turning down her offer. If her shampooing his hair was anything to judge by, it would have been just as nice and relaxing. Maybe they could even talk about something else as ridiculous as what sound Raphael’s hair would make. Who knew? He certainly didn’t because he had let his fear get the better of him.

Yet Cas was patient and she didn’t seem to take it personally. There was just only so much touching he could handle before his train of thought ventured down a dark path. No matter how he tried to redirect it towards the light, he wasn’t always in control, and his mind went there anyway. As frustrating as it was, and though he knew he was safe (or as safe as he could be) with Cas, two centuries of conditioning didn’t go away overnight.

Still, he was getting better. Little by little. And Cas was there with him for every step of the way.

After he scrubbed his body down with soap one more time, he drained the tub and toweled off, finally feeling like all the grease was gone. His hair especially felt good. His hair was still a little damp when he changed into his pajamas. 

Cas had gotten the pajamas for him as a gift, and thought neither of them slept, they were soft and nice to lounge in while he did his trance. Just simple, loose, burgundy pants and a stretchy, long-sleeved, gray shirt. Nothing fancy, but he didn’t really need fancy so long as he was comfortable. 

When he exited the washroom, he found Cas lounging on the bed clad in her own pajamas, a pencil in hand as she jotted down something in her journal. She glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile. Like she was simply happy to see him. It still felt so strange, no matter how many times she gave him that look. “Feeling better?” she asked, closing her journal to give him her full attention.

The mattress dipped as Astarion sat beside her. He used the movement to tuck her against his side, his arm wrapped around her lithe frame and her head tucked under his chin. “Much better, darling,” he said and rolled onto his back and pulled her fully on top of him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone wash my hair like that before”

She pushed up with her hands on either side of his head, relieving him of some of her weight. “How did you feel about it?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again,” he said as he let his hands wander from her ribcage, to her hips, down to lightly grip her upper thighs. “Perhaps, next time, you might join me in the tub.”

Cas smiled at him. “I don’t think we’d both fit.”

“Not with that attitude,” he said, earning himself a laugh because she was right. Even if the idea sounded nice, there was no way they could both fit comfortably. “I bet this place has a room with a bigger tub. They have to, right? For half-orcs or goliaths or other massive folk. Those would surely fit two little elves.”

She hummed. “If you want to ask the owner to switch rooms, be my guest,” she said, effectively putting the ball in his court. Leaving the decision up to him, with no real pressure one way or another. 

“I bet they’d have bigger beds too.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her down for a kiss. Something chaste and sweet, and he could feel her smiling into it.

Gods. He might very well be in love with her.

“I’ll ask about it tomorrow,” he said. Despite his earlier nerves, it was something he still wanted to do. Especially with Cas. It might be good for him, he thought. Just a small way to be intimate with her that didn’t involve sex.

It would take more than just soap to wash away all of his complicated feelings towards intimacy. Perhaps, he would never be rid of it entirely. But it was a start.

That was something.

I come bearing gifts :))

-panna cotta

YESSS!! YUUTA OBSESSED WITH SLIME!READER!!!!

He doesn't even properly realize it at first for a while either.

~~

cw; mutual obsessiveness, overstim <3, exhibitionism???, humiliation, edging, orgasm denial, oopsies kinda role switch where instead of Yuuta technically owning you, you own him instead but we love that here <3333

When he goes back he’s not entirely sure what to do with you. You’re back in the tube, all still again, and not even a day after returning he is already rushing back to his room to activate you again. It hasn’t even been that long since you last touched him, why is he so needy??

But once you move again, and the way you immediately seem to perk up happily once you see Yuuta and pounce on him, he can’t help but feel something weird in his chest, his head already getting fuzzy, and while you seep through his clothes right away, already getting to work, he can’t help but let out an oddly satisfied sigh as he relaxes.

And the next day, feeling refreshed despite you playing with him ‘til he was sobbing, he feels almost stupidly happy when he feels you rubbing his back and cheek with you leaving sticky trails along his skin.

This becomes a small routine between the two of you. He comes back as quickly as he can, activates you, you both get intimate, sleep, repeat. It’s gotten to the point where Yuuta leaves out a glass of water so you stay active as long as you’d like (and you of course take advantage of that <33)

You two have been in so much contact with each other that Yuuta almost can’t bear not feeling you touching him. He was already antsy before at not being able to be home 24/7, but now he actually struggles without you touching him anymore.

Sitting at his desk, constant moans leave Yuuta. With every deep thrust you give him, you hit him in the right spots every time, making him jolt from the harshness, but he makes no effort to slow you down. His upper body leaning against the table, hands clawing at it as he whines.

So much for doing some work– 

You rub him up and down as you thrust, and as his voice gets just that bit higher, as his whines grow more constant, his eyes fluttering, you can tell he’s getting closer to cumming. As his trembling increases, riiighttt as he is about to reach his peak– 

You stop.

You stop, and he sobs. Why? Why would you do that?? 

He tries to grind down pathetically, but that doesn’t even do anything. He cries out again, why did you stop?? He was so close, he was sosososo close– 

You begin thrusting again, and he’s grateful. You grip onto his thighs and position him in a way you go deeper, adding more and more of yourself into him, and he can feel it.

Oh god can he feel it– 

He feels like he could cum just from that alone, and when you keep going more rough, he can’t- he- oh fuck he- he’s gonna–

As drool drips onto the desk infront of him, ruining his paper as it collects into a puddle, as his eyes begin to roll back, his legs trembling again,

You stop once more.

Tears that were lightly falling before streamed down his face much faster now. Pleads and begs falling from his mouth as you denied him cumming once more. ‘Please darling–’ he sobs out, his face beautifully flushed as you gently stroke his cheek, giving a sloppy attempt at wiping his tears (oh who were you kidding, you loved it, the way he looks, his beggin, you can’t help but tease him more~).

This teasing goes on for quite some time. Drawing him closer and closer to the edge before you sadistically rip it out of his reach, sobs and begs being the only thing leaving his mouth at this point. By the time you decide to let him cum, his mind is all mushy, slurred pleas leaving his mouth. 

You resume your thrusting once more after admiring Yuuta’s face after halting him from his nth orgasm. Lips quivering, all he can do is try to let out weak ‘please’s from his mouth. When you touch him once more in a completely intoxicating way, when you wrap yourself around him, his waist, his thighs, back, arms, his neck, almost as if you’re trapping him, he can feel his climax approaching.

He tries to repress his cries, his moans, silently pleading to himself for you to not notice so he can cum– he wants to cum please let him cum– and when he does– 

All air escapes him, his back arching, everything twitching as he doesn’t seem to stop cumming, and with you still going, rubbing him everywhere, just making it feel even more good, it's like a constant stream of cum leaving him. 

He can’t leave you, you can’t leave him. Not anymore, never, no more, you’re too good, too good so good, you’re an unsightly drug thats taken him captive, made him addicted beyond return and even if you don’t have any indication of leaving him, he’s definitely not going to let you have that chance. 

You came to him for a reason. Him. Of all people, and now that he’s been touched and loved and fucked the way he has by you,, he’s almost, if not completely certain that you might be all he needs.

He’s so caught up in how much he craves you, that he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re the same way. He is your human. Your precious, pretty fragile little human– he tastes so good, he looks so good…

He is delectable, you want to take him and hide him away. Never leaving you, he wouldn’t even think about leaving you (you wouldn’t let him). Although he got you, he is yours. Nobody else's. Even if the world were to end, you would never let him leave you.

A switch seemed to have flipped in his mind since then. Now, everytime he has to leave his room, to get food, to class, just to get fresh air, you are with him. 

Yes, it may not be all of you, it would be too noticeable for him to be walking around with a huge slime following him, holding him, notlettinghimgo– that’s why he has a portion of you at all times now. 

As he gets questions on why he seems so red– is he sick? You must rest, Yuuta! Take care of yourself!– He silently squeezes his thighs together as he feels you crawling over him. Although it’s not nearly as much as you usually are, the way your moving and touching him under his clothes, his little secret, the way you caress his waist and inner thighs, rubbing against his perky chest as he is trying so hard not to make any noise, telling everyone that he’s okay! He’s fine!

You don’t penetrate him, but the way you’re covering him down there, the way you’re playing with him, toying with him, it’s almost as if you’re somehow licking him, kissing him there, sloppily pleasuring him, pressing harder, better– 

Shit, fine? He’s more than fine, he feels fucking wonderful right now– 

The ways he’s breathing has people concerned, but only you know, only you know how good you’re making him feel. The urge to fill him up with you until he can’t handle it anymore is overwhelming, but you know you can’t do that with all these people here, only you can see him like that. Only you. Maybe you should do it, though? That way you can show everyone he is yours. Your human. Your treasure. That you own him.

Only you can do this. Only you can make him scream in pleasure. Only you can make him faint from how good he feels. Only you can see his flustered look as you toy with him. Only you can see his adorable shame as he can’t help but feel so incredibly turned on, by you. Nobody else, just you. 

And boy oh boy is Yuuta in for a night once he heads back.

ajsgshsgshsghs,,,,, sjhshdhdhdhdh,,,,, shhshs,,,,,,,,,, verrrrrry kissable panettone vverrry,,,,, <3333 thank you; it was the best thing of the day <33333 /pos /srs

cw unhealthy behaviour, xenophilia, hypersexuality, sex marathon, heavy petting, somnophilia, throat fucking, semi-public sex, hints of consensual noncon (CNC), belly bulge + deep penetration, unprotected sex / breeding, hyperstimulation (g.), orgasm denial (g.), multiple + forced orgasms (g.), hints of oviposition at the very end (not real eggs)

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yuuta who needs you so desperately, nervously unbuttoning his clothes and carelessly taking them off when you are almost gurgling, watching, waiting for him to be ready to let you climb on his arms and then slide down; even if you can pretty much soak through the fabric, there is something special when your human undresses in front of you, exposing himself, becoming so defenseless and vulnerable to you, letting you melt on his slowly warming skin and do whatever you want while hold him tight, even if his control and understanding is dangerously minimal.

Wet marks remaining on his inner thigh or stomach when you gently move, teasing, continuously caressing with a process to make sure that he is still wet and excited even when you are busy with his chest, trying to be careful while rubbing and squeezing, causing him painful moans of dull arousal, associated not so much with with pleasure, but with the feeling of you making him want more even when act indirectly. His thighs rubbing against each other in an attempt to feel you better, even knowing that it is useless, but in vain ignoring sound thoughts — Yuuta whines, feeling how you spread his thighs to prevent him from cumming until you have not touched him properly.

When Yuuta begs you to take him, even if his ears and face are burning with embarrassment and shame, pathetically complaining that you don't touch him as he wants; trying to stay in place and not grab you with hands when you lazily reach lower, almost burning his skin with a wet teasing trace, leisurely touching and ignoring the way his hips are shaking from overexcitation and need, trying to squeeze into your sticky appendage, but only feeling how you spread over the skin, not allowing him to, fleetingly stroking him in response to his disappointed whimpering.

His surprised sigh and enthusiastic moan when you, in response to his pleas and words about how he needs you, how perfect you are and that he can't do without you, fill him with one push, purring and vibrating while Yuuta grabs the first thing that comes across, drooling from overwhelmedness and fullness, arching when you start move, enjoying his face, which has become a true mess from just a couple of your movements, making him gasp and enthusiastically call you. And you try to be sensual and slow, but Yuuta shouts your name so sweetly and begs for more that you can't resist, wrapping around his body in any way, caressing and touching everything you can, buzzing when he moans from thrusts in his mouth just to lick you himself, relaxing throat and trusting even when you push deeper, making him to choke, mercilessly filling his body and firmly pressing him into place until you are satisfied, leaving as many of marks on him and inside him as possible, forcing him to continuously sick you and take you without trying to resist while his body is trembling from a new orgasm, aching, being overwhelmed by sensations.

(Yuuta who once says that he will buy sex toys if you continue to constantly tease him and do not give him — and he does not fall asleep throughout the night, even when can do nothing but whine and drool from deep and stretching, non-stop thrusts, at first trying to justify that 'he did not mean that' and that 'he is sorry', but later stopping when his body was constantly cramping and shaking, not ceasing to want more and hurt from how much got, almost like your first time, but now you wrap around his neck only when make angry noises, and it's enough for Yuuta to feel how irritated you are to painfully cum for the last time, burying face in a wet pillow while you squeeze his neck, blocking the opportunity to take a breath for the strongest orgasm.

Of course, you carefully take care of him after and then after he comes to, still shivering and barely getting to his feet; you really regret that allowed emotions to take over, you didn't want this at all, but he just greedily drinks a glass of water, blushing, not understanding how he should give you understand that he is absolutely fine, and if you are still angry, Yuuta does not mind being your stress toy at all — he should take care of you, he is your owner, even if it is hard for him to bring his legs together after.)

Yuuta feels so well how you move through his body, from the hips clenched together, preventing you from crawling between them, higher up his stomach, to the chest stiff with excitement when he feels you lovingly caressing, slightly pulling and rubbing, as if not hearing concerned questions from others, being too busy with him and that how his legs shake when you rub for too long, — and Yuuta can only blush shyly, assuring that he is just hot and it will pass soon, but he has no idea if you will soon realize that he needs a slower rhythm and whether he needs a "slow rhythm" if he can almost hear you happily squelching, inaudibly teasing that he shouldn't push too far thighs. He so desperately wants to get under his shirt and touch you (or himself), or spread his legs and let you accidentally slip between, not being able to stop you in any way, but he has to do his job and not be distracted by you even when you clearly want to distract him and offer to stop somewhere — you feel that he needs it.

When you play with him in some random public place like a toilet or a doorway — even if you are too small, you can still make him bite his clothes or convulsively plug his mouth with his hand, moaning while you tease him and leave his overexcitation unrequited, taking care that Yuuta is needy enough when he gets home to continue, perhaps by pressing his body against the window or in front of the mirror, reminding him how much he likes to fuck anywhere, as if he doesn't know it without you, enjoying you in any way.

(You once makes him cum in a public place and it definitely changes something in him.)

Yuuta takes care of you so obsessively, trying to make everything as comfortable and better as possible, allowing you to almost always be near him, even when he is doing household chores, blushing from the feeling of your wrapping around his waist or when you crawl around, gurgling at the feeling of his hands on you during an evening break like a movie (where you both sometimes watch not a movie at all, even if it goes, under his moans and whining),

but he hates when you get out of bed or out of his house for a long time and without warning, even if Yuuta knows that you have gone for extra comfort for him or to get some water if he forgets about it, he hates staying for a long time without you, and the fact that you are silent makes it worse, since he doesn't even know if you're still here. You probably come back regularly hearing him whining and plaintively calling you, and your instinct can't handle it, hurriedly rushing to lie down with him or pet him, soothing before returning back to aftercare preparation only to hear his weak voice again. Perhaps it would seem superfluous for a human, but you are not a human... and you even like it — the way Yuuta needs you, clinging, sometimes leaving as much water as possible so that you stay with him all night, not only for sex, but just stuck to him, vibrating slightly, feeling like he gradually falls asleep, wrapped up by you.

(You are always there when he has wet dreams, stretching and filling until he cums to sleep peacefully again! You are on guard of his healthy and undisturbed sleep! Maybe you sometimes get carried away and wake him up — but you immediately make him fall asleep again, even if he can't stop shaking and whining your name for a while.)

Yuuta, who demands that you never think about someone else and always be with him, even if he knows that it's natural, you kind of belong to him, — but every time he feels so creepy and disgusting that you may not be his, that he may not be yours, or that you will find someone else, and he becomes many times more obsessive and possessive, demanding that you treat him as rudely as possible and remember that you can't treat anyone the same as him, only him.

However, when you allow yourself to be possessive, he feels so good — perhaps sometimes deliberately provoking you just so that you vent frustration, convincing him that he is only yours and that no one will treat him the same as you, making him scream, riding on you until he screams that he belongs to you and that he is only yours to make you relax and be calmer, filling him with yourself to the end and until you step over his limit, reminding him that only you can make him feel like that, that you are perfect for him, that he was created for you and you were created for him — there's nothing strange that Yuuta can't explain why he became so happy and contented, and it's not out of shame that people find out about you.

You are only his, you belong only to him, — and people should not be interested in you, and he wants to sound non-aggressive or secretive, but he can't help but slightly irritated, twitching his shoulders, saying that he finally found a good hobby with which he can relax, smiling nervously when feels you almost purring under his shirt, wrapping around his waist, lightly stroking as if encouraging him for such words as a pet — and for some reason it's... nice.

Of course, you encourage Yuuta. He's almost like your pet — only your human.

cw oviposition, the word 'hole' is used

listen, listen, listen. yuuta,,,, trembling from a new wave of orgasm when you stuff him with toy eggs.

He clings so feverishly, arching back, looking at how they hurriedly flow out of your body into his, making him especially shudder and try to squeeze whenever you stretch him with another one, — but feeling how tightly you hold him, not letting him feel how full he is now. Even when your fluid drips down his thighs while you push a new one, leaving him in a disorderly need to find out what you did to him, so diligently and almost lovingly trying to find a place for each egg, as if you really planned to stuff him with your eggs and leave him like that, — responding with a brief cooing to his whining and a soft vibration on his gasping moan when he feels how deep they are.

When you gently push back, trying to be as slow as possible, but Yuuta still groans hollowly when you stretch his body for the last time, only to find himself still as full, feeling your eggs vibrate slightly in him exactly as they should, constantly reminding him of how depraved and needy he is, being so excited about things like that,,,,, when Yuuta flows with a lubricant, consisting of your and his liquids, and you see how his hole pulsates from recent stimulation, needy and sensitive, even when his stomach bulges a little not because of you, but because of how deep you stuffed it, and if you lie down on him, you can feel this vibration even through the skin under his quiet sighs,,,,,,,,

When you thrust inside his body, still full of eggs, taking care that they snuggle up to the most sensitive spots while you take care of everything else, happily purring with pleasure that he can take your almost-eggs so easily while Yuuta moans and screams, being overly stimulated and fondled, but you just gently bury his face in the pillow without stopping to breed him raw, keeping his hips nice and spread until you make sure that he is definitely good with toys — you just need a deeper study, okay? It's taking care of your owner, nothing more, even when Yuuta cums again, whining that it's too much; maybe you keep pushing into him even when he goes limp — only to wake up being sticky and wet and full, so full when you start gently taking the eggs out of him, this time taking care only that he doesn't have a hard time pushing them. Now it's his work while you continue to fuck him, trying to get him to get rid of the eggs inside, creating an obsessive double stimulation for his soft, unaccustomed body.

By the time you finish, Yuuta almost immediately loses consciousness from fatigue and overload, but it's okay, you're used to it.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Synopsis: You’re out on a commission when it begins to rain, and you come home to sickness and a very worried Foul Legacy.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Rain, getting sick, coughing, you getting undressed once but it’s to take a bath, Childe being worried, mentions of crying

~ * ~ You really hate being an Adventurer sometimes. Sure, the pay was good, there’s an endless list of jobs, and it earned you the admiration of children and adults alike, but there was the occasional commission here and there that made you want to drop everything and pick up a standard office job somewhere in the city. Whether it was the weather, the season, or the work itself, some commissions seem to take years off your life- that’s what it feels like, at least. With a grimace you raise a hand upwards, shielding your face from the pouring rain that began not even a few minutes ago. This was ridiculous- when you had set out the sky had been cloudless and clear! Then some Archon or Adeptus or some other must’ve gotten upset, because everything had turned gray and a moment later, rainwater was unceremoniously dumped on your head. The slime balloon you were supposed to be escorting is entirely ruined, droplets soaking through the cargo and food inside, and with a sigh you tuck away your weapon, turning your back to the commission. The supplies are destroyed, anyway- might as well cut your losses and head home. Unfortunately, it’s a long trek back to Liyue- why you were assigned to travel past the Stone Gate instead of one of the Mondstadt adventurers was a great mystery, one you weren’t keen on knowing until you were somewhere warm and dry, with a hot drink and a soft blanket wrapped around your shoulders. And preferably, a purring Abyssal beast on your lap. The rain comes down in sheets, obscuring your vision and drenching your clothes and hair, and chill rapidly seeps into your skin. You shiver, rubbing your arms in hopes to bring back some semblance of warmth, but to no avail. There’s an audible squish with every step you take, mud clinging to your shoes and leaving dirty footprints on the slippery cobblestone path leading towards the Harbor as you tremble, the wind and rain chilling your bones. Your cheeks feel like you’ve been crying; little rivers of water winding down your face, but instead of being warm, they’re cold as ice. Ugh. You scrub at your cheeks, droplets hanging precariously from your lashes as you march towards home, ignoring all the people who stare at you from underneath umbrellas, perfectly dry. Normally you’d shrink and wither under their judgmental eyes and too-loud whispers, but right now you want nothing more than to get home and take a warm bath. When you finally, finally reach your little house you immediately unlock and shove open the door, tossing your keys and bag to the side before leaning your head against the wall with a small thud. “I’m home!” You yell wearily, rubbing your eyes and squeezing out your wet clothes. There’s a brief moment of silence before eager footsteps tap down the hall and stairs, Foul Legacy dashing over with a chirrup of joy, ready to scoop you into his arms. But he slows when he sees your state- your sopping clothes, hair clinging to your skin, a small puddle of water forming around your feet- and his chirps and trills fade to concerned whines, kneeling to meet your height. Childe’s claws extend slowly, the tips brushing delicately over your cheeks, a small whimper slipping from his mouth when you lean into his warm touch with a quiet sigh. You right yourself, flashing him a lopsided smile as you continue to wring the water from your shirt, mumbling absentmindedly when Childe begins nudging you away from the entryway and into the house. “I’m okay, really I am-” You sneeze. Then again, your nose itching, and a third time. Each sneeze sends shivers through your already chilled body, and when the fit finally ends you’re shaking, hugging yourself tightly. Foul Legacy simply watches, tilting his head disapprovingly as you sniff and rub your nose, and with an exasperated huff he gently pushes against your back until you begin climbing the stairs. “Okay, maybe I’m not completely fine…” You relent as Childe chitters in agreement, ushering you into the bathroom and hastily turning the knobs on the tub, allowing hot water to spill from the tap. Another sneeze slips from your mouth as you idly watch the steam twist and curl in the air, turning when Childe lets out a soft coo. There’s a small towel in his talons, clean and dry, and gingerly he wipes away the rain on your face, swiping under your eyes and up to your temples. Occasionally you scrunch up your nose as he rids your skin of any dirt and mud, only to laugh in surprise when he suddenly bumps his forehead against yours with an affectionate chirp. With every laugh, Foul Legacy’s wings flutter in delight, holding the towel in one hand and your cold cheek in the other. The bath is filled, hot and inviting, and Childe leaves you to your privacy with a sweet trill and a gentle headbump. Quickly you undress, peeling your sodden clothes away from you in disgust and letting them fall to the floor with an unceremonious thump before climbing into the tub, exhaling in blissful relief. The warm water soaks through your skin to your bones, chasing away the icy chill of the storm outside as you stretch out your legs and arms. With a deep inhale you grab your hair products and submerge yourself, determined to scrub and wash away all the mud that clung to you. The wash is quick, efficient, yet as you work off the dirt you can feel your throat becoming scratchier, your sneezes becoming more frequent and eventually transitioning into deep, awful coughs. By the time you rise and drain the tub, you’re dizzy and lethargic, the effects of the freezing-cold rain finally taking hold of your fragile human body. There’s a set of warm, comfortable clothes set out, evidently left by a certain Abyss monster, and you dress before shuffling out of the bathroom with a yawn. Childe perks up when he sees you, only to recoil when you let out a series of coughs, doubling over and wheezing from the force ripping apart your lungs. He cries in alarm, leaping off the bed and over to you, arms curling around and cradling you against him as coughs wrack your throat, your hands holding fistfuls of his lavender fluff. You’re warm, too warm- his claws skirt over your forehead and he whimpers in worry over how hot it is, not just from the bathwater. Yet his distress is quelled slightly when your coughs die down and you shift, snuggling closer with a tired hum. Childe carefully brushes aside a bit of your damp hair and you simply mumble incoherently, grabbing onto his hand with your smaller one and refusing to let go, and Childe has to keep himself from sobbing in adoration, the sight of you nuzzling against his palm filling his heart enough to burst.  Luckily you’re both already in your room, the bed outfitted with every warm blanket and pillow Foul Legacy could find, even raiding some from his own nest in the other bedroom. He sets you down on the mattress, pulling the covers over you with a near-silent coo and sitting down at your bedside. You’ve already drifted off, the strain on your lungs evident from how delicately you breathe, and Foul Legacy lets out a small, worried huff, claws wrapped around your fingers. He’s not good at this- perhaps as a human he was, but no longer. He’s much too big to properly take care of someone as small and fragile as a human, even less so you, out of fear of accidentally doing more harm than good. Childe presses his head into the mattress, small whines slipping from his mouth. Maybe he should’ve taken you to Baizhu. This could be something much more serious than a cold, what if you fall seriously ill? What if- “Legacyyy…” His head snaps up when he hears your hoarse voice, fur poofing in worry as he looks at you frantically, whimpering- is something wrong? What happened? Does it hurt- Oh, Archons, please don’t let his love be in pain- But you simply smile drowsily and raise the blankets, opening up your arms. “Come nap with me…” Childe stares at you, slightly shocked, his ruffled hair calming and settling as he hesitantly climbs onto the bed and nestles under the covers, letting out a tiny, flustered squeak when you instantly slot yourself closer, arms wrapping around his waist in an attempt to hug him. You can feel how tense he is under your fingers, the stiff way he holds you back, and in an attempt to soothe his worries you begin to carefully thread your hands through his soft ginger hair, murmuring quiet reassurances to him. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart… Just a cold, I promise…” Childe melts under your touch, nervously chittering and hugging you back as tight as he dares, trembling with unshed tears. And you simply lean up, tilting his chin with your hand, and place two kisses on his cheeks, one on his forehead, and a final one on his fanged maw. “Love you…” With a yawn and a cough you snuggle back down against his chest, unaware of the heat burning Childe’s face as he stumbles over his words, letting out choked, strangled yelps and chirps. He buries his head into your hair, rumbles muffled as he squeezes your waist, attempting to calm down. It takes a moment for him to be able to look at you again- you and your calm, sleeping self. Every so often you cough, sending shivers down his spine, but then you shift and cuddle closer, arms looped around your favorite Abyssal beast, and Childe feels his pounding heart ease into a steady rhythm, worries beginning to wash away. A lovestruck croon slips out of him, admiring your peaceful features despite how ill you are. How can you sleep so easily, feeling so sick? Perhaps it’s because Foul Legacy is with you, so everything will be alright. Quietly, Childe begins to purr, the soft rumbling from his chest filling the room as he moves himself impossibly closer to you, so he can lean down and gently press his forehead to yours, the soft skin so different from the tough keratin of his mask-like face. With a slow, sweet chirp full of affection, Foul Legacy lays his horned head on the pillows and wraps the blankets around you both, content to slumber until you awaken again. Ah, my lovely starlight. May the rain fade and the sun rise again soon, just for you. I will care for you until then, even if it rains forever.

Get Slimed

I was in the mines and the Slimed debuff gave me…. Ideas

A story with my Farmer: Dante and Abigail

Warnings: Fighting, might continue later, very light stripping

Having Abigail join Dante in the mines always made the task more enjoyable, she was excited to learn everything about being an adventurer. Dante kept their spelunking to the upper levels, helping her take the mines slow, remembering how she had reacted to the bats flying up at her. It gave the advantage of keeping the enemies more manageable, wanting to avoid overwhelming Abigail. 

“Remember it's usually easier to clear a level before mining things. You don't want to be snuck up on while picking up ore.” Dante said watching Abigail’s back as she looked around the cave level. “You sound like you know that from experience.” Dante chuckled at Abigail’s quick jab, he had been caught off guard when he had first started exploring the mines. He remembered when he had woken up at Harvey's bandaged up.

“Just a few times, but that's why I now clear the floor before anything can get the drop on me,” Dante said stretching lazily hiding a smirk when he saw Abigail taking a peek at the sliver of skin that appeared. He had caught onto the crush she had on him days ago. Sebastian and Sam had come to his house and told him all about it and how they would be watching him like hawks. Dante found it sweet that the boys cared for her and wanted her happy, ensuring he wouldn't break her heart. Not that he would. Dante also liked Abigail, her fiery spirit, the first time she took an amethyst from him and ate it like it was an apple, her tenacity. Abigail was a spitfire and he liked that about her.

“Dante! I found the ladder!” Hearing Abigail call to him brought him back to reality. “Let's get going then, gotta be out before ten,” Dante said as he made his way down the ladder after Abigail. Looking around Dante sucked his teeth in annoyance “Tch shit it's infested… Stay close ok.” He instructed Abigail stepping forward and drawing his sword 

The damp, cool air of the Mines thickened around them, a sickly green hue permeating the cavern and casting eerie shadows. The stone walls seemed to pulse with the unnatural light, heightening the tension. The entire room seemed alive with the presence of Green Slimes. Their thick jelly bodies pulsed with malice, blending almost seamlessly with the emerald ambiance. Dante's senses sharpened, every slight movement catching his attention, while Abigail stood ready to support him.

Without warning, a slime launched itself from a dark corner, its body stretching as it soared through the air. Dante sidestepped with practiced ease, his sword flashing in a swift downward arc. The slime split with a wet, splattering sound, dissolving into a harmless puddle of goo, Abigail watched with wide eyes. Two more slimes bounded toward Dante, their movements were erratic and unpredictable. He swung his sword in a wide sweep, but the slimes were agile, dodging his strike and flanking him. One latched onto his leg, its acidic slime burning through his pants. Dante shook it off with a grunt of pain and stomped it into the ground, the satisfying squish echoing through the cavern.

The second slime took advantage of his distraction, launching itself at his chest. Abigail's eyes widened in alarm as Dante fell back, narrowly avoiding the attack, and thrust his sword upward. The blade pierced the slime’s core, and it disintegrated with a hiss, its remnants sizzling on the cold stone floor. Breathing heavily, Dante scanned the dimly lit cavern, listening to the distant, echoing sounds of more slimes emerging from the shadows, Dante stood slowly preparing for the next onslaught.

Dante advanced cautiously, sword at the ready, while Abigail stayed slightly behind, her eyes darting around for any threats he might miss. The slimes kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. Dante moved with precision and grace, each swing of his sword a calculated strike. He dispatched slime after slime, his movements a deadly dance of survival. Green goo splattered across his clothes and face, but he remained focused, his resolve unwavering. Abigail watched in awe as Dante fought, her own weapon ready to strike if needed. As the last of the Green Slimes dissolved into a puddle at his feet, Dante wiped the sweat from his brow and took a deep breath. The cavern fell silent once more, save for the occasional drip of water from the ceiling and the faint, unsettling glow of the green hue that bathed the room.

Dante sheathed his sword and turned to Abigail, who gave him an encouraging nod. Surveying the area together, noticing that the threat had ended a sigh of relief was shared between the two. “And that's how you handle an infected level…” Dante said gripping the bottom of his shirt pulling it up and off, shaking it like a rug trying to get the thick slime off of it. “A new thing to keep in mind, a change of clothes.” Dante groaned as he looked over at Abigail, noticing she was covering her face peeking threw a slit in her fingers Dante burst out, doubling over in laughter. 

“Don't look at me like that!” Dante laughed holding his side causing Abigaiil to be more flustered hiding her face fully. “It's too cute, Abby, I can't!” Slowly catching his breath his laughter turned into chuckles, seeing Abigail was fully flustered Dante slowly walked over. “I’m not gonna bite you ya know.” Dante teased leaning down slightly to be closer to her, seeing her eyes peek back out he chuckled looking into her blue eyes. “Ya know, I do have to confess… Sebastian and Sam did let it slip that you like me…” He said teasing her. 

Abigail gasped her eyes flashing red for a second. “They did not! I'm gonna kill them! I am gonna actually kill them!” She yelled out balling her fists, showing Dante just how red her face was. Dante laughed and held her shoulders. “Hold on Spitfire.” Dante gently pulled Abigail close to him. “I like you too ok?” Dante said softly looking at Abigail gently. “You are unapologetically you, you are so fun to be with, you honestly light up my life,” Dante said pushing back some of her amethyst-colored hair, smiling at her shocked face. “W-What?” She said shyly her eyes wide.

“Yeah, I like you Abby, I honestly can't get enough of you,” Dante said cupping the side of Abigail's face slightly, giving her a hint as to what he was asking permission to do, seeing Abigail's breath catch Dante waited ready to let her go. “Is this ok Abigail?” Dante asked his voice hushed and gentle. “Y-Yeah…” Abigail said against Dante’s lips as she pushed herself up with her toes. The kiss was soft and gentle but it held so much for the pair, a new bond forming between the pair. Pulling back Dante chuckled softly his cheeks matching Abigail's now. “I think we are done with the mines for the day.” He said joking taking one last look at the damp green walls. “Wanna go home with me and help get this slime off?” He smirked down at Abigail laughing at the squeak that came out of her.

A day in the pool

It was a quiet day I was very happy because I had finally invented a liquid that allows me to become a slime

Slimes are an almost unknown species because they can hide easily, I don't understand how they do it or if they become invisible, the only thing I know is that they hide when they are close to someone and that someone doesn't remember seeing them, luckily I found a dead one and experimented. until I find a formula that will make me become one and learn from it, my name is Daniel I make this documentary to keep all my information and what I'm investigating -he drank the liquid and immediately collapsed after a while he woke up-

Curse!! It didn't work!! I'll have to do it again, well, it's all trial and error -he began to try again to create the liquid but in that a loud noise makes it spill and a small explosion comes out 💥-

DEMIAN!! - he shouted furiously because he knew who was responsible -

DEMIAN: here I go, don't yell -he said as he went down slowly-

-in that Daniel felt strange and his skin turned blue and felt like it was shrinking then when Demian went down seeing a blue puddle on the floor and his brother's clothes on one side-

DEMIAN: Daniel!! Where are you?!

-before the scream the puddle took the consistency of a ball and without giving Demian time to react the ball jumped and his bathing suit fell, it slipped and entered his underwear, desperate Demian tried to quickly take off his bathing suit-

Demian: aah go away!!

Demian: no~ ugh~

Demian: Hi, I'm Demian and I'm making this documentary. Jsjs, just kidding, I'm Daniel! I already discovered the slimes that possess their victims, it's great and it feels really good to be inside someone ~ if you're looking at this, create more liquid in case you want to try it with someone bye ~ I want to go to the pool my brother used to go to, but let's check first that hides my new body~

Slime HRT - 14 Months

Slime time again my good folks (I really ought to start making more slime puns)! I’m here again with the 14 month update and things have continued to get gooier

Firstly: No more bones!! In my arms and legs at least, and gods that’s been wonderful just being able to freely move my limbs around however I want. Obviously beforehand, while my bones were still there, I could move my limbs a bunch already (see the previous entry with puddle legs), but it just feels so much better and free-er now that they’re gone - it’s hard to explain properly. If I had to, I’d guess it’s not feeling my bones move around whenever I do stuff, so it makes it nicer to move. Also helps I don’t have to worry about losing my bones too now, so I am more willing/able to try out weirder shapes and motions.

Adding to this; it’s kinda strange, my arms no longer really feel ‘segmented’ like they did before. Humans (it really doesn’t make sense to include myself in that anymore, if it ever did) have a very defined forearm and upper arm, but slimes, well, we (hehe, it’s nice to include myself in ‘slimes’) just kinda have limbs. My arm is just my arm, and honestly, it’s barely that distinct, arms and legs just kinda feel like the same thing, just in a different shape, and it’s really only the intellectual distinction that one is arms and one is legs. Even fingers are just kind of like, extra, tiny, limbs, which has been a kinda weird realisation to have and experience. Also: Elbows are a suggestion, and knees, given that my limbs are just kinda long pseudopods when it comes down to it, so they bend everywhere, not just at a designated point. It’s kinda funky being able to manipulate my slime like I can now ‘cause, on one hand, it just kinda feels like moving a muscle, but that muscle is connected to every other muscle in that area, and basically the whole limb is muscle.

Anyways, with all my new mobility, I’ve been practising my shaping, and I’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. I’ve been able to make things like spades, hammers and such on the ends of my arms, and I’ve been experimenting with different kinds of feet/legs as well, like mermaid tails and talons. I have tried making arm-blades and stuff too, but it turns out it’s actually quite hard to make sharp edges - so far I’ve only gotten about as sharp as a butter knife, and that took a lot of concentration. Turns out ‘sharp’ isn’t exactly a slime speciality

As for the rest of my body: the skin on my torso has all turned to slime now, due to the two-fronted assault from both my legs and arms it turned quicker than the limbs had individually. It’s still very weird see musculature through my goo, and I know it weirds other people out even more so, so I try to keep my torso as covered as possible, which absolutely sucks when it’s hot, although I have forgone covering for the sake of staying upright when it’s gotten really hot, even if I do now run a bit cooler than I used to.

On the note of the new/extra slime, I’ve actually tried to do some shaping using that, trying to give myself a tail. While I did have some extra slime thanks to most of my fat having been converted to goo, it wasn’t really enough to make anything more than a large bunny-esque tail - which was cute, but I’m looking for something a little longer and more prehensile. I guess I’ll have to wait for more things to dissolve to give me the substance to make myself a tail like I want..

It’s also worth adding that if a slime shifts something for long enough, it ends up sticking, kinda like muscle memory, but for shape. To that end, I’ve actually been practising keeping the claws and talons that I’ve learnt how to make, since I’ve found that they feel nice, even if they’re not quite perfect. My only issue, with the talons specifically, is that they make me taller, something which I really don’t need, but I’m hoping once I can shape my whole body I can adjust such things.

One last thing I’ve been able to do now, is that I can now move slime freely between all of my body - so I can easily reach things if I need to, just by taking the mass from somewhere else and giving it to one of my arms to make it longer. This too has contributed to this newer mindset of ‘I’m just one blob of slime, with shapes coming out of it that I have assigned functions’, a leg isn’t a leg when it’s a super long arm, so distinct anatomy is kind of shrinking away, even if 20 odd years of humanity says ‘an arm is an arm, and a leg is a leg’. This is only further worsened by the fact that I can also just make legs arms and arms legs, so yeah, ‘legs’ and ‘arms’ are really becoming just descriptors of limb functions for me.

That’s all to really report this time, nothing super new or surprising, just adjusting as I become more and more slime now! See you in the next update! Ps. thanks to the person (@bdigfreakingwooper) who suggested using a lint screen to help with the random crap that gets stuck in my slime, running that through my limbs has been really nice and does keep me very clean! Although occationally some of my slime does get stuck since it's not quite the same as water, but it's so minor it's fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Been loving the various comments 'nd stuff that people have written, and I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying this! If you want more slime HRT stuff @scrubbinn has just started their own that's neat, so you should check theirs out too over here.

First - Prev - Next

So! The entire first chapter of this medieval AU is finished and ready (other than not being edited or beta'd or-) if anyone would want to read it. This is my first time posting any of my writing, so I hope it's good? Anyway, I feel it's important to also mention that it's not a mistake, I meant to use the last name Burgess instead of Sorenson here, and there is also cursing in the fic. (Also, if I need to add any warnings or tags please tell me) So uhhh yeah!

Chapter One: Fool Me Once

Torches sputtered and cracked from the draft, open flames waving hello as he slipped by, his cloak flying open behind him. Ruby and topaz stones carefully clinked and collided with one another as they hung from the golden circlet in his hand. The guards he met along the way flinched from his stare and gave him a mile’s wide berth once they saw the circlet. They allowed him to continue, on through locked doors to the deeper caverns of the castle, his footsteps echoing off of the stones placed haphazardly atop one another centuries ago.

As the stairs spiraled downwards, shadows began to rest on his shoulders, pulling at the light of the torches, causing them to waver— shudder—at the weight. Similarly, his mind began to spiral, tugged in directions he hadn’t known existed before now. His heartbeat reverberated in his skull, and it grounded him in such a way that it felt like the very dirt beneath him wished for nothing more than to swallow him whole. Maybe that would be preferable.

A prison such as this would likely inflict a feeling of depression, of hopelessness and horror. It would feel somber, damp with water leaking through the bricks to form stagnant puddles. And yet…

The yells started even before he reached the bottom of the stairs, before the door swung open, clanging shut behind him as he steeled himself, shadows flickering at the edge of the door. No one should have been able to hear them as he did, not from that distance. That simple fact raised a chill through his body, hair standing on edge as he walked towards the cells.

“I’m innocent!”

The yell shuddered through one of the inmate’s throats, the sound ripping through him as he came through the door. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he attempted to block out the noise. Other inmates rattled the bars of the cages, hummed old warning songs he knew well, and some even attempted to grab for his clothing, begging him to save them.

He knew well enough who these people were: heretics, murderers, traitors, felons of the highest degrees. He worked alongside those who put these people in chains, and if any of them knew he stood here, knew of the anomalies plaguing him… Perhaps he too would be shoved into one of these cells, left to rot forever. Of course, that stood under the assumption they let him live in the first place.

At the end of the hall, he quickly opened and slammed the door shut. The yells did not cease, twisting their way under and around the door, but fortunately, his focus trained elsewhere. Only one other cell stood in this room—the lowest, deepest place you could possibly go in the castle.

“Hello, Seth Burgess.”

Rags hung off her wiry frame like old drapes, and her knuckles seemed to protrude from her hands as she held onto her elbows. Scabs and pulsing veins ran along her arms, insect bites imprinted on her skin. Her hair laid long, ratted, and white, her eyes bloodshot as she smiled a little wider than humanly possible, a few of her teeth missing. Warts covered  her body, and her hands showed the slime that stuck to her skin, the consequence for using magic from the Void.

Muriel, the Witch of the Forest.

“I haven’t seen you in years, boy. You’ve grown. There’s a wariness to you now, a glint in your eyes. What has happened to you since I’ve seen you last?”

Seth’s last visit to her stood in shadows, a vague mess of colors and swirling memory. He had been young, naive, and he wandered down into the same place he stood now. She twirled tales of forbidden magic, of twisting shadows and the creatures that slept within them. She drew pictures in his mind of demons and fairies, of their wars that raged much before his time. The stars, something he often turned a blind eye to, were now something new and bright in his eyes. He understood the moon, the stars, and the planets out in space, the darkness that held them, comforted them. And despite everything, it drew him in.

Enough time spent down there in one, singular, night, led him to learn magic he never should have known. She taught him something that plucked at strings in his heart, echoing a melody that flowed through the background of his life, through his ears and lungs. It kept his feet moving forward, and if he wanted, he could recite it note for note.

As he grew older, the song became tinged with a sour taste. He learned of the Void and how it infected everything it could grasp with a deep unknowing, a mystery hidden from the light. He learned of how it twisted and changed people, whether it gave them an amphibian-like slime, reptile scales, rare birds wings, or anything and everything within the same selection. It stood as something drilled into his mind during his lessons: amphibians, reptiles, birds, amphibians, reptiles, birds. Over and over again people taught him this.

The Source, as an opposition, became the thing people worshiped. It stood for peace, warmth, and the very known force of creation and growth. Mammal, fish, and invertebrate changes were welcomed, gifts given by the Source. People with such eccentricities were held on pedestals, something akin to saints.

And according to Seth’s grandparents, who caught him with Muriel that same night, all of his trust resided in the Source. The Source, his lifeline, kept him from falling farther into the darkness. As long as he continued to hold onto the Source’s rope—no matter if it felt like it seared through his skin, burned his eyes—he would be acceptable. He would be right. He would be fine.

Instead, Seth now heard voices from rooms over, a field’s length away, or through walls. He heard things people intentionally said behind his back, he heard compliments alongside criticisms. He heard when people outright lied to him, their small inflections clipped in their tones. The song lifted his eardrums to a heightened sense, and yet he continued to look towards the stars with burnt hands.

If only he had been better. If he had been better, lies wouldn’t slip off his tongue like truths when he spoke to his grandparents. He would have no reason to keep this visit a secret—or have this visit at all. If he had been better, a hole would not have carved itself into his mind. The remnants of magic he used before would not still taint his mind and thoughts. He would not feel comfort as shadows enveloped him in this very room, and he would not rest ever so slightly when the song settled in his mind.

If he had not made a mistake years ago to come into this very room, he would be able to say he trusted the Source with his very being. He would not give a second thought about the Void, as he did now, standing in front of her.

Seth had to wonder if this would be nothing more than another mistake. Another item to regret on his not-so-organized list that continued to roll far past his feet if he ever unfurled the parchment—if he ever opened the seal.

“You are being especially quiet this time around, aren’t you?” Muriel said, leaning forward and backward against her chains. Held so uncomfortably in the cold iron if only so she would never cast magic again. Her shoulders sagged, bags under her eyes as she stared at him. Her sudden cleansing of magic ability certainly took its toll on her.

“I guess you aren’t quite six anymore, are you?” Muriel laughed quietly to herself. “No more questions I can answer for you? No more questions about the stars?” Seth kept his composure, other than his hand tightening on itself, fingernails digging into his palm. “You do have more questions about the stars? Please, do tell, what more do you wish to know about the unknown levels of the universe?”

“Stop,” Seth whispered, his voice strangely weak. Something stuck in the back of his throat, something echoing a sob. He did want to know. He did want to hear. So badly.

Muriel’s bloodshot eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of them. They do not listen to my answers, nor do they ever ask me questions anymore. Take me back to the old times.”

The old times. Seth almost wants to agree with her. 

A fact which, he supposed, indicated many things he didn’t wish to think about.

“How do I get rid of it?” Seth asked, his voice barely audible. “How do I make it leave?” He wished he could make it so he didn’t sound on the verge of tears, but you can only hear so much before you break—before you shatter utterly.

Muriel jangled her chains as she attempted to lean closer. Her eyebrows raised unnaturally high, “Leave what? Get rid of what? My dear boy, you must be more specific than-”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Seth tried to snap at her, he did, but it only came out in such a desperate plea. He began to pace in front of her cell, back and forth, wearing down the stone under his feet. The echoes of the steps resounded like drums in his heart. Loud, disorienting, just like the screams and pleas from the other room-

“Shut up!” Seth yelled. The shadows at the edges of the room inched forward, grabbing his ankles, pulling him, whispering things of hope- “I can- I hear- There’s too much and I don’t know what to do with it.” Seth ran his hands through his hair, gently pulling—as if that would make the voices stop. His voice, no better than a sob, said, “Tell them to stop.” A pause. “Please.”

Muriel’s eyes softened ever so slightly, and Seth had no way of knowing if she pitied or worried about him. “The power of the Void.”

The voices backed away at that, the shadows slipping off of his legs, laying at his feet like broken limbs, unsure of their function afterward. His heart softened as she said it, and the song picked up in his mind, swirling around them as he breathed a little easier. It called out for beginnings and ends, a form of destruction that led to creation: ash that helped flowers bloom. The cycle and the Void were the same.

The shadows at his feet squirmed, and he jumped back, heartbeat in his throat as he tried to clear it. Shadows were not something he could fight—nor were memories. And yet, both of them haunted his every step. “What did you do to me?” Seth asked as his voice wobbled and broke. “Why am I…?”

Seth said nothing more, simply staring at her, waiting. He couldn’t clear the tears from his eyes, but Muriel hadn’t mentioned them yet either. Perhaps she wouldn’t call out his weaknesses. Perhaps she owed him that much.

Muriel hummed, deep, resonating in the small cell. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me more information than that.”

The floor seemed to fall out from underneath him. “You know!” He paced back to the door, the way he could leave here without any lasting consequences. The tears laid against his eyes, not daring to leave in the presence of someone else. “I shouldn’t have even tried, I should have known you’d never help!” Seth spun on his heel, pacing back to the cage. “You’re no better than them! Do you know that?”

“And why is that?” As quiet and calm as ever.

Seth went to run his hand through his hair once more, but instead, a laugh left through his lungs, shaking his entire being. “You all like to think you’re so different, but you all only look out for yourselves! You know exactly what I’m talking about—you did this to me!”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

Grabbing a hold of one of the bars, Seth watched as she moved back from him. The cold bite of the metal sank into him as he sobbed, falling to the ground, onto the heels of his feet. He felt insane, utterly. Why did he insist on asking her for help? Why couldn’t he ask his family, or even his friends? Why couldn’t he just be normal?

The Source kept the world pure. The Void corrupted.

…And yet.

Muriel tsked at his pathetic form, shaking her head. “Something indeed changed. Something’s taken its toll on you, raked its claws through your mind. You’re not the same boy who came down here all those years ago, are you?” When she said it this time, she spoke solemnly; she spoke a fact of life. Seth couldn't help but agree with her.

“The Void did this to me,” he eventually said. Even before he had finished, Muriel already began to shake her head, sighing. “What?”

“The Void did nothing of the sort. It gave this power to you because of your belief in it. If there are any… mental ramifications, you created those yourself.”

His words were no more than an emphasized sigh. “What?”

“Any constraints you have are because of your own making, or the making of someone who you let get into your mind. Who has gotten under your skin?” Muriel stared at him for a very long moment, tilting her head until it hung almost parallel with the ground. Seth hadn’t made the conscious decision to flinch back until she laughed, much like the caw of a crow. “Your family.”

“No.”

“Yes. They are sole believers in the Source—the light of creation in the world. Your family are the ones who believe the Void will corrupt your soul—if it hasn’t already.”

“It hasn’t-”

“You believe in it, don’t you? You’ve heard the song.”

Seth had not once mentioned the song in front of her.

Muriel continued. “The song floats through your head in the same way the power flows through your veins. With every step you take, you think about the vast darkness that hangs above our heads—the thing the sun obstructs. You can hear too much because the Void wished for you to. It loved you—loves you—and this is what you do in return? You ask me to get rid of it.” She scoffed.

Seth slowly stood, holding his head against the bars. His voice broke as he spoke. “They’ll- If I don’t get rid of this, they’ll kill me, and I won’t be able to do a single thing. If I fight back, they’ll count me as a traitor, and if I don’t, I’ll be killed. The family name will be tarnished, and I’ll be banished or- or executed on sight. They would have to make an example out of me, and they’ll-”

Muriel raised her eyebrow.

“My own family would execute me!” Almost hysterical, the words prying themselves against his will out of his mouth. They laid on the floor for everyone and no one to see, and he wanted nothing more than to light them on fire, watching the smoke rise into space.

“But do you want to rid yourself of the Void?”

No, he didn’t. “Do you not understand? They’ll kill me!”

Chains shuddered, clattered, and hung tense as Muriel rushed forward, reaching out towards the bars as Seth rammed back into the wall of the cell room, his breathing erratic. He felt his vision shudder as he watched one of her shaking, knobbly fingers barely reach out, her nails tinted green and yellow,  barely able to reach and brush against the bar. He could hear the most faint sound of nails on a chalkboard. Her wrists were white with the strain from the handcuffs.

Muriel started slowly, slower than he had ever heard her speak. “You have not answered the question. It is an obvious fact they will kill you if they figure out why you’re down here now. It is an obvious fact that the Source and your family’s beliefs have tainted your perception of the power you have been given. I care little about either of these things. Do you want to rid yourself of the Void?”

Seth opened his mouth to say yes, to say anything to refuse what she implied. Of course he wished to get rid of this so-called gift the Void had given him. He hated the Void and what it had done to him. He hated its corruption, temptation, confusion…

“I… love the Source.”

That’s not what she asked.

You know what she asked.

Seth shook his head, holding his hand against his forehead as a headache spiked. Slowly, but quick all the same, the explanation clicked into place in his mind. “You’re trying to trick me.” He let his hand fall back down to his side as he laughed with all the strength remaining in his body. “You’re trying to trick me again, just like all of those years ago—when you did this to me.”

“I did nothing of the sort-”

Seth didn’t listen as he let his feet guide him back to the bars, back to where she tried to intimidate him, where she stood, chains taut. “You’re always trying to trick me, just like them, just like everyone, I…” With some last bit of resolve crumbling, he wrapped his hand around one of the bars, almost letting himself fall against them. He spoke with something akin to a sob—with something not-so-distantly related to anger.  “You’re always trying to trick me, but you can’t fool me twice. Please, not twice.”

The chains jangled back to their original place as Muriel backed away, her breathing careful and jagged. Seth didn’t trust her, quite the opposite, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—hurt him as he stood here. Muriel, well known as a questionable, terrible, utterly irredeemable person by the general public, would never hurt him.

Seth didn’t know why he was so sure.

Muriel, he suspected, did not either.

A long, worn-down sigh emanated from the cell, the sound and curdling smell echoing through the small room. Seth opened his eyes as the old, possibly immortal woman stood with her creaking bones. “Of all people…” She laughed, shaking her head as she fell back to the ground. “Of all people, you chose to come to me with this.”

“Fool me once,” Seth’s hoarse voice choked out.

The cell’s silence held as they stayed on opposite sides of the bars, a tense, angry, and understanding emotion in the air as Seth felt emotion bubble up in his chest and throat.

‘The Void did this to me,’ said with resentment, anger.

‘The Void did this to me,’ said with curiosity, wonder.

The sky hadn’t looked the same since that fateful night. Seth supposed it never would again.

“Am I already tainted?”

The words slipped from his mouth, but he didn’t regret it. He knew what her answer would be, something different than if he were to ask his family—his friends.

“Am I…” he continued, “Am I past the point of no return?”

With gentle, genuine concern—something she hadn’t used often so far in their conversation—Muriel asked, “What do you mean?”

“The Void changes people, taints them with its power. I could be a different person now than I’m supposed to be because of its influence, but I wouldn’t know. What if it’s already taking over my mind? What if the reason I’m…” Seth shook his head, rethinking his words. “What if I’m changing, and I can’t even realize it because it’s gotten so deep into my mind that it makes me think it’s okay?”

Seth’s family always reminded him he had never been all too eloquent with his words.

“You’re afraid you’ve been compromised.”

He needn’t say a word in order for her to know his answer.

“I’m not repulsed by the thought of the Void or by the song. I should be. Everything in history, in my life, all around me tells me so.” Seth looked up from the floor, into her eyes deep with pity. “I should be, but I’m not.”

Muriel sat in her silence for a long moment. “The Void does not change people.”

Seth laughed bitterly. “It does. Everything has always pointed to the fact that it does. Your skin would be free of slime if the Void didn’t change people. I wouldn’t be hearing things from entire rooms away if the Void didn’t change people.”

“Those are the physical changes we know and understand—which I should add, are brought to us by our own use. But, ignoring that, the Void does not change the mentality of its followers. Even if it wished to, it couldn’t.”

Without thinking, Seth said, “But then why are you…”

Muriel smiled and hummed. “I am not like this because of my use of magic. The way I look, the way I am weak without it, the way I think, all of that is of my own doing. I am the only one who can change myself.”

“It could have made you think that. What if you’re different and you don’t even realize?”

“Everyone is different from their younger counterparts. Life revolves much around change, and if you think that is always an indicator of the Void sinking into your mind, then maybe you are more naive than I thought.”

“Was I-” Seth said, before Muriel interrupted.

“You, as a child, were not as different as you are now. Though, you’re more closed off now. The curiosity in your eyes has been toned down in order to best fit your family, your public. You’ve become palatable for the people around you.” She paused. “You remind me much of my younger self before I realized I did not need to be easy for others to process.”

“Yeah, and you ended up in a jail cell.” Regret in his words pooled in his stomach as he took a step away. “I don’t… I don’t want to end up like you.”

The silence stretched for longer than Seth had let it so far. Muriel, deep in thought, suddenly nodded with only a small sigh. “Then you won’t.” She held up five bony fingers. “You have options: run, learn, or barter.” She touched one finger with every option she gave him. Seth couldn’t help but notice she skipped two fingers.

“What’s the last-”

“You can leave the Void,” Muriel interrupted. “Forget about it, never think about it, let alone ever look towards the night sky again. Believe only in the power of the Source. If you do that, you have the possibility of returning to normal. The song will stop lingering.

“If you don’t wish to alleviate the comfort of the night sky, then I would suggest training yourself in the power you’ve come to find yourself with.” Seth began to protest, but she continued, raising her voice above his. “It would bring a sense of control into your life, and you would be able to hear only what you wished.”

Before she continued, Seth wedged his way into the conversation. “That cannot be the best possible solution. What if I start to show physical symptoms? I can’t hide things like that. I can lie and pretend all I want, but that’s something permanent. I can’t fix permanent.”

“Demons and witches like me could possibly help you, then. If you would wish to barter, they are the ones to speak to. Though, their deals have loopholes and fine print like you’ve never seen in your life, and, as a royal, you’ve had to deal with politicians.” Muriel’s laugh echoed in the jail cell. “But, they have power, and if you wish to change something like this so drastically, you would need such power to do so.”

“I can’t do that either.”

“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t recommend it; I used to know those people. They’re all batshit crazy—and that’s coming from me.”

Seth sighed, rubbing in-between his eyes. “Okay, no demons and no witches then. No running from the Void and no trying to bargain with it. What else is there?” He looked to the two bony fingers she still had held up. “What other options do I have?”

“Well, you can run from the Void mentally, as I’ve already mentioned, or you can run from this place, this city, physically. There would be no one to judge you, no one to believe you’re conspiring with the forces that you are.”

“I’m not conspiring-”

“Of course not, of course not.” Muriel grinned.

Seth groaned, walking back over to the door and leaning against it. “I can’t run. My family, my city, my duty is here, and I can’t just leave that. I have friends here. I can’t leave them alone and just- just fuck off into the wild and hope I get my life figured out.” Seth paused, beginning to gesture wildly with his hands as he began to slowly unravel. “It’s- It’s like I'm on the end of a rope, right? And the rope is fraying on one side, burning on the other. I’m just left in the center, doomed to fall because of, what, some stupid mistake I made when I was six?”

Muriel, for what felt like once in her life, said nothing to him. She stayed quiet, watching him as she settled back into her seat. To her benefit, she did look guilty in a way Seth could never understand. She certainly didn’t feel guilty about teaching him. Yet, she felt pity for him. What did that mean? Did it mean to impose a better feeling onto him? It didn’t. The growing pit of uneasiness, anger, and utter understanding of his doomed position wanted to consume him. A little bit of pity wouldn’t change that fact.

For years, Seth had been able to ignore the song, ignore the empty space he felt within him during his every waking moment. He paid it no mind, and it did not bother him. But, for every slip-up, for every thought that roamed a little too far, a little too deep, the song became louder. The thoughts came closer to the surface, and Seth began to lose control of them.

Because what if? What if he did train his powers? What if he ran away? What if he didn’t have the responsibility of a castle on his shoulders? What if he filled the gap in his heart, what if he went against the whole of society, what if he abandoned his familiar beliefs, what if he rejected everything he came to know as true? The thoughts always started out blazing, like thousands of stars in front of his eyes, blinking in tune with the beat of his heart.

But then, reality came in, and it turned each little flame into smoke. It put out the fire, leaving Seth with the fear and realization that he was trapped without an exit. He continued to turn, hoping for a better choice, a sudden awareness of his situation. There had to be something other than rejecting everything and everyone he’s ever known, right? But, he would always look, and he would see nothing. He would see twisting shadows, and they would creep up his leg, across his body, and around his neck. His own curiosities turned against him, silencing him, and leaving him to watch. He could do nothing else.

Useless.

“What other options are there?”

Muriel’s silence said much more than words could.

“There has to be something else. You’re still holding one finger up, so there is something else. You have to tell me,” Seth pleaded.

“Well, if I know my traditions, there is a party tonight. The Gala of Summer, if I remember correctly. You are being trained to, later in the future, become Captain of the Guard, yes? You would know this.”

Seth nodded. While every solstice and equinox became a day of rest for every citizen in Fablehaven, the two days before were not. 

Children learned of Festival Nights when they were young, begging for another story from their guardians. “Monsters lurk in the woods,” parents would say to their children. “And on Festival Nights, these monsters come out and try to attack our very way of living.”

No one knew why, no one cared to ask. Some theorized Festival Nights stood as a tradition for them as well, though they lost every year due to the preparation of the Royal Guard and their Captains. Monsters ravaged the walls of cities, and if they dare reach the inside, established groups for every town and city known as Festival Knights would fight them until dawn came. So, every day before the Festival Night, people would prepare until three in the afternoon, and instead of lying in their stress and terror that night, the castle would throw a party for royals, nobles, and respected citizens alike—the Galas of the Seasons.

Tonight, they were throwing the Gala of Summer, and all morning, Seth had been helping either Captain Burgess with their preparations. Queens without magic always took the position of Grand Captain of the Royal Knights, but Ruth, now getting older in age, began teaching Warren everything she knew. Until Seth turned twenty—or became King, whichever happened first—Warren would then teach him and take his place if Ruth resigned. The knowledge and experience trickled through the generations, leaving Seth staring at a burden he would eventually need to carry upon his back. 

Grand Captain Ruth Burgess, Captain Warren Burgess, and Associate Captain Seth Burgess, the names continued on alongside the Summer Gala, the Festival Night, the Summer Solstice. Those words had branded themselves onto his mind in the past month.

“Of course I know what it is. It’s my job to understand what that is.” Seth scoffed. “But what does that have to do with my current… predicament?”

“Well, this option has a very low possibility of working, but every solstice and equinox, the Path of Stars opens. The Path of Stars is a dimensional line that connects to the Void itself. The connection point lies on the highest hill of Glasshed Cemetery, the biggest cemetery in this city. Arrive at the entrance to the cemetery at eleven tonight, and then wait there—do not look, touch, speak to, or anger the spirits there. Do not bring a lantern or any other source of light. Wait until a quarter ‘til midnight in this spot, and when the clock reaches the appropriate time, begin walking the path up the cemetery. You will need to be at the top by midnight, no later. The Void is understanding, much so then people lead others to believe, and while it may be crestfallen, it will understand your reluctance and rid you of its power. That is, if your motivations and intentions are clear. This is your only clear, direct option, and it may not even work in a way that does anything to you, good or bad. Do you understand?”

Seth did not move, barely even took a breath as his heart fumbled in his chest. Slowly, eventually, he nodded. Muriel said nothing more, nor did she look like she wanted to say anything more. So, Seth turned, putting his hand on the door. But—before he opened it, before he left her down here for perhaps the rest of her life to rot—he paused. It took him multiple tries to get the words to leave his mouth, let alone for them to be coherent and clear. “…How can I trust you?”

Muriel tilted her head up. “Do you?”

Seth flinched back ever so slightly before pushing the door open, letting it thud closed behind him. Despite everything, he found himself memorizing the list of directions.

“Fool me twice,” he muttered.

((If you've reached the end I'm thanking you so much for giving it a chance,, please reblog or comment or anything if you liked it, I'm hoping to continue it, but it may take a while (this is draft #3 for this chapter alone) and ask any questions about this AU in my asks if you'd want!! I'd love to answer them :D))

Channel Divinity

GN cleric tav / Zevlor

TWs: Blood mention, implied dissociation.

AN: I lobe him, spoilers for late act 2.

Sfw

The pulse of magic through his body was familiar, jarringly so. Dragging his mind unceremoniously back to reality from the warm embrace of the mindflayer pod; not to say he’d willingly go back in. But it was much better then the slime seeping into the soft underlayers of his armour and the chill of divine magic on his skin.

Eerily familiar but not quite the same as his oath. The healing of a cleric, channeling their deity to save him of all people.

They’re looking at him, and he realizes he’s on the floor, sitting in a puddle of silvery mindflayer blood streaked with the deep crimson of another, his own? No he doesn’t feel any open wounds.

Ah, it’s the cleric's blood. Soaking through the deep blue of their sleeves; he starts the motion for Lay on Hands, they need to be healed, more than he does right now.

The void of a broken oath aches.

© pvbbyboy •• 2023 •• Please do not translate/repost. reblogs are appreciated and requests are open!

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Emetophilia (Lawrence/MC)

day 23: emetophilia second person. cw for vomit. lots of it

"OH, GOD, LAW-!"

You managed a disgusted yelp, a repulsed grimace on your face as you attempted to wriggle away from Lawrence's hunched-up, still retching form, though their hold on your body stayed firm as ever as they spewed their guts out all over your naked body.

The vomit was thick and almost heavy as it weighed down on your skin, both in sensation and scent, since it smelled of beer, microwaved food, and rot, just like Lawrence always smelled. The greasy feel of it clung to your skin like slime or ectoplasm (if you could possibly know what those things felt like) and despite how still you were trying to be, it managed to drip down every sensitive area of your body and cover each of your shuddering curves. 

You cringed, looking down at your shaking stomach now painted in milky-yellow puke, trying to suppress the urge to vomit yourself.

"F-Fuck," They stammered, finally looking up towards you with an absolutely mortified expression on their face, their pale skin even paler (almost green in hue) as they reached up to cover their vomit-slicked lips with trembling fingers, looking like they were about ready to puke again. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me...I-I just couldn't hold it back, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay, Law," You mumbled with an attempt at a smile, though you were still repulsed as you looked down at yourself, as the vomit slowly made its way down your stomach and towards Lawrence's still hips. "Just...just let me up and we can clean ourselves off, okay? And then we'll take care of you, okay?"

They said nothing for a moment, swallowing hard and wiping their mouth down their chin, their bottom lip pulled down and exposing pale gums, doe-grey eyes wide and panicked, before they...began to move again, pressing themselves deeper inside of you, since they were still as hard as they had been before, for whatever reason.

It felt good, of course, it did, but that didn't get rid of the fact that you were still absolutely covered in their vomit, and the more they moved, the more it moved with you.

"Lawrence," You then said, your voice taking on a note of firmness as you glared up at them, meeting their eyes with your own. "Let me up. Now." Your voice had lost a bit of its usual edge though, and your quivering lip wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone soon.

"Ah," They gasped softly, lowering their body back against yours, their chest pressing into the broad puddle of vomit still clinging to your own. "I...I want to keep going. I'm sorry I threw up, but I...I have to keep going. You understand?"

"Don't keep going!" You nearly shouted, outraged, though they quickly covered your mouth with a broad palm (god, was that the one they wiped their puke up with, fuck-), their other hand reaching round to fist in your hair and keep you pinned still.

"Be good," They growled softly, so quietly and dangerously, lowering their head down to your level, their lips inches from yours, so close you could still smell vomit on their breath. "I'm going to keep going...so enjoy it, or don't. I don't care which." 

You swallowed hard and whimpered against their palm as they continued to thrust up into you, keeping your head still.

"Be good...be good."

Barely seconds after removing their palm from your mouth, they kissed you hard, their sour tongue immediately pressing between your lips like an invasive species, and you were forced to taste the vile, acidic remnants of bile and vomit on their lips, their tongue. 

You squirmed and wriggled underneath them, trying to shove them away, your arms against their strong shoulders and broad chest, but your refusal to acclimate to what they wanted and the way you fought back against them seemed to only excite (and annoy) them more, as they started to thrust in and out of you again, with a new kind of vigor. 

The combined sensation of the crushing kiss and their tongue in your mouth, and the aching stretch of your cunt around their monstrous cock, pushing deep, so deep you felt it nudge against your fucking cervix, made you moan involuntarily against their lips and hungry mouth. You could hear every one of their pleased sounds too, as they fucked into you harder, pressing your chests together and coating themselves in their own vomit even more, like the two of you were bathing in it. 

It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up, but you couldn’t deny how arousing it was knowing that they'd fuck you, even when you were covered in their vomit and when you smelled like shit. 

You could feel your cunt clench tight around them as the burning shame in the pit of your stomach made you moan even louder against their invasive kiss. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, and, dizzy with sickening pleasure, you allowed yourself to press your vomit slick fingers into their long hair and let them fuck you as they wanted.

It’s sick. 

They were sick. 

But you were so, so much worse for wanting it so bad that it ached.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

Steddie Season 3 time travel fic, Part 7

Ao3, Pt. 1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6

“Harrington! I’m gonna need a hazmat suit and some paper towel in here!” Steve hears Eddie call from the living room. He doesn’t remember leaving any sort of mess in there, but who knows what Eddie managed to accomplish during his thirty seconds of unsupervised time in Steve’s house. He shakes his head a little and waits for the popcorn to finish in the microwave, the steady trickle of pops easing his nerves away slightly from their conversation. The microwave blares a triumphant beep and Steve snatches the bag out of the microwave and shakes it into a bowl, the usual amount of unpopped kernels laying shamefully on top despite Steve’s belligerent use of the popcorn setting. Whatever. He grabs a roll of paper towel from under the sink and tucks it under his arm to bring both into the living room. 

“I don’t know what you could have possibly done to need a hazmat suit, but I did manage to get your paper towel-” Steve rounds the doorway of the living room to see Eddie crumpled on the ground, his limbs convulsing and flexing in a way that seems inhuman. Steve has never seen or had a seizure before but by the way Eddie’s body is shaking and shuddering, Steve would bet this is it. The bowl and paper towel drop to the ground and kernels scatter across the floor in time to the jittering of Eddie’s limbs, Steve wasting no time to throw himself to his knees in front of Eddie and grab the sides of his face. He wills Eddie to meet his eyes somehow and snap out of it with a gentle shake. Nothing. 

"Eddie!" He shrieks, voice crackling and raw. Eddie's eyes are rolled up into the back of his skull, the once red veins of his sclera turning into a muddy brown and then fading farther into black. Eddie's fingers rattle against the floor and Steve grabs the hand nearest him and entwines their fingers. Eddie’s skin is frostbitten and pale, the tips of his fingers darkening and staining his fingernails black. The veins in his hands carry the same unnatural muddy darkness that Steve saw in his eyes, his left hand still sputtering against some sort of blackness spilling over the floor.

Steve lets his eyes focus on the black puddle for a second, seeing the way it moves like snakes instead of water, rolling over itself and leaving behind a sickly trail of bluish-black in its wake. They're attached to Eddie's left hand still, the substance seemingly sucking itself under Eddie's fingernails and into his skin. They twist and writhe into rotting vines of slime and black, crawling towards Eddie with every movement. It's a terribly familiar sensation that sends a shot of venom down Steve's spine. 

Steve moves to grab Eddie by the waist and drag him away from the goo, the tendrils wrapped around his hand ripping apart with a sick squelch. Steve drags him into the kitchen to get farther away from what he now knows is clearly upside down goo, Eddie still convulsing and quivering against Steve's hands. He props Eddie up to lean against the base of the island, his head rattling back every so often against the wood as he shakes. The sound makes Steve nauseous. He continues to call Eddie's name, but there's no response that Steve can see. He grabs Eddie's hands again only to find them even colder now, his veins a stark black against the fading colour of his skin. Steve tries to rub some warmth back into them, but still nothing.

His breaths are ragged as Steve tries to form some sort of his plan despite every chance of a thought being cut off by panic. He was never supposed to be the planner. He's not the one who figures out how to save people. He's just the one who drags them out of hell when it's already too late, and dammit if he's not going to try and do it again for Eddie. He forces his fractions of thoughts to fucking do something, and vaguely remembers '84 and Joyce burning the upside down out of Will with a sweat lodge. Fine. 

Steve works quickly to compartmentalize his oncoming panic attack before grabbing the now cracked popcorn bowl from the edge of the living room and returning to the kitchen to scoop Eddie up and tuck him against Steve's chest. He takes the stairs two at a time with Eddie's arms still flinching against him and all but throws him into the bathtub in Steve's ensuite, cranking the faucet as hot as it goes. He doesn't think it'll be hot enough to burn, but it's a chance that has to be taken. With Eddie semi-safely in the tub, Steve bursts back into his room to snatch his cassette player off his desk and scrounge under his bed for the walkie-talkie Dustin had bestowed upon him in '84.

Eddie is still convulsing against the porcelain of the tub which at this point Steve is honestly glad to see as a sign of life, the water bubbling up to his hips and steaming up the mirror. Steve throws the player and the walkie onto the tile, slamming the play button and letting Journey flood the bathroom as Steve Perry belts Any Way You Want It. Steve's just glad he didn't have a pop tape in there, hopefully if this is Vecna, Eddie can at least find some solace in rock'n'roll (even if it’s a little pop-y). He cranks the volume dial all the way up as he scrambles for the walkie and yanks the antenna out.

"Code red! I repeat, code fucking red, I need help now. It’s Eddie, I need El-" Steve cuts himself off with a squeak as Eddie's head slams against the back of the tub with a crack, the rest of his body shaking with violent shudders. Steve lets the walkie drop and dives towards him, catching his head and giving it a gentle yet slightly frantic shake. "Eddie, please," Steve pulls down the edge of his eyelid but the veins in his eyes have only gotten darker, seemingly darker than black and pulsing with every twitch. Eddie's shaking violently, rings clacking against the porcelain and his neck still snapping back no matter how tight Steve holds the sides of his head. Steve's own shakiness is no match for Eddie's, but he feels on the edge of collapsing as he struggles to keep Eddie from shaking apart at the bone. 

Eddie's hands are at least warmer to the touch now thanks to the scalding water. Steve lifts one out of the water as it convulses against his skin, keeping one hand behind Eddie's head at all times. Unlike his eyes, the veins in Eddie's hand have faded back into a dark gray and his fingertips are leaving light trails of darkness in the water. Steve checks the other hand and finds the same. "Fuck yes, you son of a bitch, just hold on a little longer," Steve grips the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck a little harder and tries to cushion another violent crack of Eddie's head into the wall. 

Steve fumbles for the popcorn bowl behind him and drags it under the faucet for a few seconds before throwing the water over Eddie's face. He tries to detach himself and just focus on the task as he possibly waterboards the person he's doomed in time with, willing his hands to still and get through it, but each time Eddie's head snaps against his hand or his rings crash against the tub Steve feels his knees give out just a little more and his breath catch in his throat. He keeps throwing bowl after bowl of near-boiling water over Eddie's face, his voice growing raw with Eddie's name. The panic rings in his ears and blocks out the sound of Departure running through its songs mixed with the crackling of the walkie and what he thinks could be voices, but he can't focus enough to tell. 

The water is sloshing around Eddie's shoulders now, mere inches from the lip of the tub. Steve pours another bowl over Eddie's head and watches his curls straighten slightly to cling to his forehead and the jut of his jaw. His cheeks are finally starting to flush pink, and Steve's hands shake as he brushes the hair away from his face. Eddie's convulsing ramps up into more of a vibration, his spine shooting rigid and straight as his hands rattle rapidly in the water. Steve jerks to hold Eddie's head above water as it pools over the edge and soaks Steve's shorts. He doesn't even register the heat.

"Eddie, come on-" Steve chokes, his voice coming out strangled and distorted as his fingertips press into Eddie's cheeks. The water is dark and sludgy now which Steve is choosing to take as a good sign, regardless of whether it is or not. His own shaking is creating a sick sort of polyrhythm with Eddie's shaking, a wretched mirror of panic between them. Steve's crying between shrieks of panic, Eddie's convulsing growing more rapid and violent by the second. Steve's only semblance of hope lies in the fact that Eddie's skin has a bit of his usual golden tone to it and his veins seem to be lightening at least a little. Between strangled shouts of Eddie's name, Steve uses a shaky thumb to pull at the edge of Eddie's eyelid again. He holds his breath as he reveals the veins in his eyes are starting to lighten as well. They're still a muddy gray and not as light as the veins in his hands, but they're not pulsing anymore. Steve manages to spring back into action mode despite barely being able to feel his body through the buzz of panic, pouring another bowl of water over Eddie's head. 

Eddie gives a whole body jerk as the water hits his face, every part of him making a horrifying clack against the tub that deafens Steve. Eddie's still vibrating at a terrifyingly unnatural pace, but it's alternated but violent jerks as Steve pours more water over his head. The blood vessels in Eddie's eyes slowly fade back into a semi-normal colour, but it does nothing to stop the convulsing of his body.

"Please, Eddie, wake up please," Steve's voice comes out shattered as he pours more water, still cradling Eddie's head with one hand. Eddie's convulsing picks up the pace again after two more bowls of water, his head snapping violently side to side and thrashing backwards. His limbs slow as his head continues to thrash against Steve's hands, his arms still shaking but only slightly. Hope and fear tangle in Steve's chest.

The slap of water against the tile replaces the sound of Eddie's limbs convulsing as the water pours endlessly over the side and stains everything a hopeful shade of black. Steve is screaming Eddie's name into the space between them as he digs his thumbs into Eddie's cheeks, his head shaking and trembling with otherworldly force. A sludge of black starts to pour from Eddie's lips, staining his skin a heavy blue and mixing with the already black water. Steve wipes and smudges the darkness from Eddie's mouth, a continuous circle as more of the goo rips itself from Eddie's mouth. it dissipates as it touches the water and leaves a thick trail in its wake, Steve trying to wipe all of it away with tears and screams.

As suddenly as it started, the convulsing stops with a scream cut short at the tip of Steve’s tongue. The black from Eddie’s lips stops. He lies still in the tub, his hair floating around him in a halo of curls that blend into the tainted water, everything a solemn shade of black. An archangel sort of darkness. 

Steve cranks the water off and brings his hand back to Eddie's face. "Eddie?" His voice is hushed and gritty, barely breathing the words across Eddie's cheeks. His hands tremble as he finds Eddie's pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat is a muffled drum, weak and lost but there nonetheless. Steve lets himself take a deep breath for the first time as he watches the faint rise and fall of Eddie's chest. He slides his hands down to under Eddie's shoulder to drag him out of the overflowing tub, praying he doesn't need CPR but running through the steps in his head anyways.

"C'mon Eddie, just open those eyes," His words sit heavy and quiet in the air as he lifts Eddie back to a sitting position and slides his fingers up to check his pulse again. The faint thrums are few and far between and Steve feels the panic rising in his chest again, hands still trembling from before. Come on. Wake up. His pulse stays low and quiet.

The drum beat kicks alive under Steve's fingers, a sudden gasp of air coming to life between them as Eddie thrashes out of the water, hands frantic and searching while they smack across the tiled walls. Eddie’s hands fly to his neck where Steve’s fingers are still pressed over his pulse, and Steve can feel the pounding change in rhythm as he grips onto Steve's arms. His hands are warm against Steve's skin. Their breaths shudder in tandem as Steve pulls Eddie closer to his chest. 

"You fucking asshole, I thought you were dead," Steve chokes out a cry on the last syllable and buries his head in the crook of Eddie's neck. Eddie's hands flit across Steve's skin with a residual tremor, each fingertip pressing and searching across Steve's back. 

"Fuck, me too," Eddie hooks his chin over Steve's shoulder, both their hands fisted in eachothers soaked shirts. Their warm tears are lost among already damp cheeks and Steve can only hear the ringing behind his ears and Eddie's pulse under his fingers. They stay tangled until both their heart rates even out, the ripples of water with Eddie's movement trilling in the background. Eddie's breaths tickle the hair curling around Steve's ear.

"It was all black in there, man. Just like that freaky fuckin' dream," Eddie moves a twitching hand up from Steve's shoulder to the back of his neck, the other still wrapped around Steve's wrist where his fingers lay over Eddie's pulse point. "I thought I could hear you yelling, or maybe music or voices, but those vines had me again and I couldn't move-" His voice breaks and Eddie drops his chin to muffle a sob in Steve's neck. It echoes across Steve's skin, and it's all instinct at this point to cup his hands around Eddie's face and pull him closer over the lip of the tub. He lifts Eddie’s face to meet his gaze, gently swiping the mixture of tears and murky water from Eddie’s cheeks and pulls a little to knock their foreheads together.

“You’re out now, that’s all that matters. Everything else can come later, but you’re here,” He barely has to whisper the words with their breaths so close to each other for it to reach Eddie. Eddie’s breaths are still shaky, but it’s an alive sort of shake that brings Steve comfort instead of the dread of clacking knuckles against porcelain. Steve feels the aliveness of it against his skin with every trembling breath. 

The floor of Steve’s bathroom is soaked from the overflow of the tub with sludgy trails carving paths along the tiles -and he’s pretty sure some of it’s leaked into the carpet of his room, which is probably a biohazard and will be an absolute bitch to get out- but with both he and Eddie conscious and breathing he couldn’t give a shit. 

What he could  give a shit about however, is the garbled static coming from behind him. He pulls away from Eddie to turn around and tries not to miss the newfound warmth, instead finding the walkie lying in the wake of the overflowing tub and streaked with muck. Slightly behind it and knocked to the side is the forgotten boombox, likely also waterlogged given the lack of Journey filling the bathroom.

“Fuck-” Steve slides across the tile and over to the walkie, further staining his work shorts in the process and shakes the excess water off the walkie. It gives a muffled shriek as Steve smacks the side but does nothing to clarify the sound. Against probably better judgment, he jams his finger into the button on the side. “Hello? Dustin? Can anyone hear me? Hello?”

“Steve, as much as I love listening to you yell at a broken walkie talkie, I feel like verbally and physically abusing it isn’t going to do much,” Eddie says while Steve continues to call into the walkie and smack at the device. Steve huffs before clicking the button a couple more times and gingerly setting it on the sink counter. He doesn’t bother with the speaker, just unclicks the journey tape from its slot, shakes it off, and sets it next to the walkie. Eddie lets out a small laugh from the tub. “You were gonna bring me back to life with Journey?!” 

Steve feels some of the tension lift from his shoulders at Eddie’s more steady voice. “It was either that or Wham, would you have preferred George Michael? Or would ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ have been too on the nose?” Eddie’s bark of laughter rings off the walls.

“Making jokes already, Stevie? Guess we’ve got that in common,” Eddie goes to lift himself out of the tub with only a slight tremor in his hands, shaking the rest of the water off his arms once he’s standing. Steve yanks a towel off the rack and passes it to Eddie, Eddie immediately throwing it over his head to scrunch out the gritty water. “For real though, I assumed all your players came locked and loaded with ‘Songs From the Big Chair,’” Eddie’s voice is muffled from under the towel, but it’s not enough to hide his words.

“What business do you have knowing a Tears for Fears album? And a new one at that, it’s barely been out long enough in this year for me to have one copy let alone, like, three,” Steve lets the amused shock shine through his voice and he hears the smile in Eddie’s laugh even from under the towel. Eddie loops the towel around his neck after squeezing out his shirt and fiddles with the hem as he talks. 

“I’m a man of mystery, Harrington,” He quirks a sideways smirk at Steve and pulls one side of the towel to slide off his neck. “And I worked at a record store in the months following its release and had to stack endless amounts of them. But make no mistake,” Eddie chucks the towel in Steve’s direction, the edge of it catching Steve across the face as Eddie steps out of the tub and tracks more water over the floor. “Tell anyone I know the name of a Tears for Fears album, and every tape you own gets it,” They grin at each other for a second, the ridiculousness of the moment crowding the anxiety that was buzzing in the air a minute ago. Eddie’s hair drips onto the puddles on the tile despite just being dried, a steady rhythm easing away the residual ringing in Steve’s ears. 

Eddie’s swaying into Steve’s space just the same as Steve’s swaying into Eddie’s, their mortal peril briefly forgotten in the way that Eddie’s face is flushed with warmth again. There’s still a smudge of dark just in front of his ear. Steve glances down at it and is almost surprised when he brings his hand up to brush it away. He keeps his touch gentle, just ghosting the surface of Eddie’s skin as the grime is replaced by the warm rose of Eddie’s blush. Steve trails his finger back and tucks a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear, stopping to notice the way Eddie’s eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second. Steve’s hand is the most still it’s been all day.

“-teve!- I’m com- Is-?-El! And-” They startle apart at the sound of the walkie spurring to life- or at least at the sound of it making a clear noise every three seconds. Eddie clears his throat and toes at his wet socks as Steve pulls his hand back and reaches for the walkie. 

“Dustin? Can you hear us? Eddie’s awake now but we still need to talk to El,” He waits for the crackling on the other side to spring back to life, feeling the buzzing return to his skin. Eddie’s alternating between staring a hole into the towel on the floor between them and flitting back up to Steve’s eyes. 

“-ere soon- way- nd Max- ddie?- ing out- ver,” The walkie fizzles again as Dustin cuts out. ‘Max?’ Steve mouths at Eddie, whose brows are furrowed in a likely similar expression to Steve’s. The walkie garbles for another second in what might have been Dustin or might have just been static, but he’s heard enough between cut outs to get the jist.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked, let yourself in when you get here,” Steve hopes he’s not cutting out too much on their end, but he has at least a little faith in Dustin’s ability to get the general idea. He places the walkie back on the counter and motions for Eddie to follow as he steps from puddled tile to soaked carpet. He cringes at the squelch, Eddie making a dramatic gag as he steps over into Steve’s room. 

“You’re gonna have to burn all of this flooring, or honestly just move at this point,” Eddie’s got his arms and his fingers squirming as he makes it over the last of the soaked carpet, shaking his hands out in a shiver. “That’s gotta be the worst thing I’ve ever felt and I’m pretty sure I almost died yesterday,” Steve tries to laugh around the nerves flooding his skin as he pulls open the closet door that squeaks in the same way it does a year from now. He pulls a couple pairs of sweatpants and a Van Halen shirt for Eddie that Tommy H. had gotten him in ‘81 that he thinks he’s only worn once, plus a faded light blue tee for himself. He throws the clothes at Eddie and gets him in the face as retaliation for the towel.

“I know it’s not Dio or that Ozzy guy, but Van Halen’s the closest I got to metal,” Eddie stares at the shirt in his hands and quirks a smile at Steve, thumbing the fabric across the print.

“Here I was thinking I’d be getting a Tears for Fears shirt with all that talk earlier,” He sets the clothes down on Steve’s desk next to him and starts pulling at his soaked shirt. “Or maybe you just save luxuries of that manor for the ladies,” Steve laughs as he turns to pull at his own soaked clothes, the thick polyester of the sailor costume tugging at his skin. He feels his cheeks flush and tells himself it’s from the thickness of the fabric suffocating him. 

“Pretty sure that’s one of maybe two graphic tees I own,” Steve says as he pulls on the dry shirt, reveling in the softness of cotton blends untainted by upside down fuckery. “Not sure if you realized I’m more of a polo guy, but who could’ve seen that coming,” Eddie snorts from behind him.

“I’m sure whole empires would gawk at the preppy lengths you go to in order to look like every suburban girl’s wet dream, Stevie,” Steve chokes on Eddie’s words and has nothing to blame the rising heat in his face on this time, nearly tripping on the cuff of his sweats as he yanks them up. 

“Oh please, I’m pretty sure the polos are not drawing people in. Robin has data to prove it, and even more in ‘86,” Steve tucks his hands in his pockets and fiddles with the threads on the seam as he waits for Eddie to change. He hears Eddie’s huff of laughter between the shuffling of clothes.

“Every highschool rumor says otherwise, not that I’m usually one for gossip. More of a fan of finding proof for myself,” Eddie comes around from behind Steve, squeezing his shoulder as he passes. His slightly damp hair is leaving imprints of black in the dark gray of the fabric, the shirt hanging slightly looser off his shoulders than it would on Steve. The sweats are cinched at the hips, and Eddie’s tucked the corner of the tee into the waistband. It’s a look so different from the two outfits Steve’s seen him in that he has to take a moment to recognize Eddie again. Even with the tattoos and his usual rings still adorning his fingers to compliment the guitar pick hanging from his neck, he still looks softer. More mundane than his usual otherworldly aura, but in a way that makes Steve want to see more. 

There’s a bang from downstairs that echoes up the hall, both Steve and Eddie snapping their heads to the door to Steve’s room. They move to the top of the stairs to see the front door still rattling from being slammed open into the wall, Dustin staring frantically at it with El and Max standing farther back in the doorway. Steve melts at the sight of them, El with her hair in frizzed out curls just above her shoulders and wrapped in a flannel that he assumes is Hopper’s, Max with her usual wild hair that’s curled up at the ends from the summer humidity. She’s got her usual determined set to her face, chin turned up and eyes squinted, ready for a fight. 

Steve feels his knees give out and catches himself with one hand on the banister. There’s an arm that’s snaked around his waist and he looks to see Eddie staring ahead at Max, face broken in two. She looks younger- they all do- but Max still looks like a child, as she rightfully should. She’s still got her signature sneer in place, but her shoulders aren’t hunched so high around her neck. There’s lightness in the way she moves farther into the house, and it’s confidence with every stride. It’s not any sort of difference that someone from the outside would notice, but it’s the fullness in the space she lets herself take up that gets Steve. It’s someone who hasn’t yet been struck by all encompassing grief and guilt. 

“Steve! What’s going on?” Dustin’s voice is shrill and carries all the way up. Eddie’s hand slips off Steve’s waist as he stands, and he tries not to shake as he slowly makes his way down the stairs. 

“Everyone’s okay for now. Eddie was in some sort of trance, almost like a seizure. I used heat to get it out but it was definitely from the upside down,” Eddie stays paused at the top of the stairs and simply nods at Steve’s words. A drop of water falls from his hair onto the banister and Eddie follows it with his eyes. “We both had a dream- we were in this dark space and then there was the vines, and some sort of voice-”

“Was it the Mindflayer? Or your Vecna?” Dustin’s starting his standard rapid fire question procedure, Max and El in quiet contemplation behind him. El nudges Max, the two sharing a look before El nods and turns back to face Steve. Steve eyes them and tunes back into Dustin’s rambling.

“I’m not sure, If it’s all controlled by Vecna then I guess it doesn’t really matter which one it was, right?” Dustin gives a comical shrug.

“Oh! Well if this big life threatening thing just doesn’t matter then who cares who it’s coming from! Right, Steve?-” El cuts Dustin off with a shove and pushes her way in front of him. Eddie’s creeped down a few more steps, but is still hanging back with a faraway expression glued on his face as he stares at the kids. 

“I have felt it,” El starts, Dustin quieting at her voice. “This morning, something had changed. I did not know what for sure, but something bigger is here,” Her solemn nod feels like a death sentence, but Steve keeps his expression stoney. “Dustin told me you are not from here, you are from next year. You are not my Steve,” She looks at him in the same way that a doctor would, all cold examining stares at harsh angles. “But you came here and brought something worse with you, and I fear it is connected to you. I think, you have become like Will.”

Steve remembers Will’s possession in ‘84- and tries to force down the thought- but he remembers how closely it mirrors the ‘seizure’ Eddie just had. He looks over at Eddie, his eyes now turned down towards the floor and his arms wrapped around his middle. Steve tries not to choke on his breath. “What can we do?” El nods at Max again.

“Dustin says there is another gate. We have to send you back through, or else whatever you brought back will destroy us. I will need time to learn how to open it back to your time, but I believe it is possible,” Dustin is fidgeting behind El and keeps shooting worried glances between her and Steve. “I did not realize it was you who had caused it, or else I would have found you sooner.”

“Yeah, we were already gonna be at the mall and everything because of fucking Michael-”

“Language.”

“-Freaking Michael, but then El felt the change and passed out, and well, that’s not really the right time for a shopping spree,” Max shrugs as if all of this is very nonchalant news for everyone, the kind of thing she goes through every tuesday. It’s such a Max thing to do that Steve almost sobs. “And then you called, and then Dustin called, and now we’re back in the shit-show.”

“What did I just say about language,” Steve saves a small smile for her regardless, but can’t help his hands finding their way to his hips. “And anyways, you were going to be at the mall today? We could’ve figured this out sooner- Shit- I had my days wrong, I thought you guys showed up tomorrow,” Steve mentally runs through his timeline, but after a year it’s hard to pick out exactly what else he could have also gotten wrong. Max mouths ‘language’ at him, and he lightly cuffs her on the back of the head. “I’m an adult, I get to say it,” Steve doesn’t miss the sideways smile Max tries to suppress. “Really though, shit, we could’ve maybe avoided Eddie’s ‘episode’ if I had known something was off when you two didn’t show up.”

“Where did it happen?” Dustin butts back into the conversation, causing Eddie to perk up at his voice.

“Living room. I was cleaning up Harrington’s possibly eons old beer when it attacked me, and…” Eddie heaves out a trembling breath and runs a hand through his tangling hair as everyone turns to look at him. “Well, then I was back in the void. Then awake in Steve’s scalding bathtub,” El squints at him then turns heel and heads through the door to the living room. The popcorn is still scattered across the floor, the beer can laying nearly untouched by the foot of the couch. Also untouched is the floor around it, no sign of the blackened hell-goo that was previously drenching the wood. Steve eyes the can.

“That beer was from today, too,” Eddie furrows his brow at Steve, El crouching down with Dustin to inspect the can. “I opened it right before I passed out, forgot all about it,” Eddie’s eyes flick between the can and Steve, then between Max and Dustin.

“So your spooky vine dream got infused into the can?” Max says as she purposefully steps on the array of popcorn kernels surrounding her. “And then he touched it,” Crunch. “Got possessed,” Crunch. “And now it’s gone?” Crunch, crunch, crunch. Steve kicks her toe away from stepping on another kernel, Max scowling and stepping on two more anyways. 

“Well, maybe not gone, I mean, could still be in them, right?” Dustin’s words chill Steve’s blood, and he looks in time to see the colour fade from Eddie’s face as well. Eddie stares holes into the side of the can and fists his hands tighter across the Van Halen logo. 

“Fucking awesome,” Eddie whispers between them. El turns to face him, her eyes tracking his face in the same examining way that she did to Steve, settling on his eyes as she scrunches her nose.

“There is another thing,” El says, looking at no one but Eddie. “I searched for the thing you brought with you in my space, but I only found parts. I did not find Steve until later,” She glances towards Steve and takes a short breath. “But there were pieces of you everywhere.”

“Pieces? What do you mean, pieces?” Eddie’s digging his nails into his shirt, into his skin, and Steve sees the same panicked look he found in the boathouse. He reaches out to grab Eddie’s wrist, pulling his hand from its death grip around the fabric, and lets him cling to Steve’s hand instead.

“Like an echo. This thing is tied to you more than it is to Steve, and it is trying to pull you into the space completely,” Eddie’s pulse jumps in his palm, and Steve can hear his ragged breaths. “You were not supposed to be here.”

Eddie scoffs. “Well yeah, neither was Steve. We’re a whole year behind,” El grimaces and stares through Eddie. “No. You are not supposed to be here. You are not supposed to be alive.”

_______

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