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Her nails are drawing blood before she realizes something's wrong.

There's this old memory, back from when we'd only done a few scenes. Me in the kitchen, joking it was a good thing I was the one in charge of drinks, because it let me make sure she wouldn't slip something in mine. She laughed about it, then. Cried about it, later.

She backs off, and I rise to fill the space, half-sitting half-lying underneath her now. She's staring right through the red on her fingertips. I know what she's thinking about.

The belt traces a line of fire across my ass. I bite into the pillow, expecting the second hit to hurt more, but it doesn't. The third hit, when it finally comes, is barely a love tap. She safewords before there's a fourth, and I swallow a sigh and scrape myself together.

Once I had a dream that should have been a nightmare, the most awful things flashing before my eyes, except I wasn't feeling scared. I woke up bored, a bit confused. A weird sensation, when you know what emotion you're supposed to feel but then it doesn't come at all.

"I just don't see why you'd want such a thing," she says. For a moment I want to scream at her, tell her that -she- clearly wants it, that I've seen the porn she reads, that I don't understand why this is so fucking difficult for her when it's with a real person. I bite my tongue instead.

Her eyes flash to the cuts in my skin. To my face, too knowing, too smug. To the drink, which, now that she thinks about it, perhaps tasted a little bit off?

Vodka. Lime. Sugar. Ice. More vodka than usual, both to help the process along and to cover up the taste. A scoop of white powder dissolves in her drink. I enter the room, hand her the glass. She takes a blissfully ignorant sip.

I speak. "Dopamine and glutamate agonists. Inhibitors for oxytocin, cortisol, GABA. All the ingredients are available online, if you know where to look."

She hasn't studied neurochem, doesn't know what it all means, but she knows what she's feeling. I spell it out anyway. I've always been a show-off.

"The joint effects? Reduced empathy, impulse control, and stress. Increased spontaneity and detachment. Think of it as an antidote to guilt."

She understands right away. She's always known my jokes were never really jokes, just thought it was easier to pretend otherwise. I've never been shy about what I want from her, and now I went and took it without even asking first. Indignation, unimpeded, explodes out from her brain.

And she hits me about it.

Open palm, full force, no warning. My cheek explodes with pain and I cry out in surprise and I love every moment of it.

"I can't go and leave marks where anyone would see," she said, back in another life.

When I open my eyes again, she's frozen in the middle of a follow-up swing. Her words are slow, intended for herself, not me. Morals on the mic, lacking chemical backup for the first time in her life.

"...I shouldn't. This stuff won't last forever. When it wears off..."

Does she realize the bent her thoughts have taken? It's such a practical concern. Can't torture poor me if she'll feel bad about it later, no matter how much she wants it now. Do good people think like that?

"I covered that," I say. "The formula's on the dinner table. Bottle in the kitchen has enough for the first few weeks, dose lasts a day, ingredients cost less than you'd expect. You could stay on it forever, if you'd like. I designed this so it's hard to build a tolerance for."

In the time she takes to process this, I rattle off the last things she should know.

"In my backpack there's handcuffs, chains, a knife, some other things as well. I typed up my own thoughts on how you could best keep me, if that's what you opt for. Made it easy for you; not a soul knows where I was going this night."

I like to think she's impressed by how much I planned this out, but her expression is too messy to tell. I bring my face close, neck muscles straining, and sign my own death warrant.

"I did this to you, Harriet. Don't you want to make me rue it?"

Plague Doctor 『Prophet』 – ALEPH

surprise! and now for something completely different.

yes, this is prophet. upon corrosion it becomes paradise lost (to represent the plaguedoc→whitenight bait and switch). imagine a really fucking good healing ego . At A Price !

idk i might work out the mechanics on my own time. maybe. who knows

reblogs greatly appreciated! extras/concepts under cut

In collaboration with two of my friends for another friends birthday, we have crafted Yanclair.

Untied (yes thats what im calling it)

Uptied

battle idle sprite

one friend made the ID kit yayyy

and the other one wrote the uptie story :3333 which can be read here (tumblr user @kanameows)