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friendlyneighborhoodyanderenerd · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1: Welcome to the Island

(Art not by me but by eavee_ry on TicTok)

Ok, before you read this, I just wanted to say. Do not judge me, I wanted a ghost hearm. For the sake of my sanity, everyone is aged up to 18. I had fun writing this one and hope you guys enjoy.

TW:Lots of death, obsessive behavior, absolute fucking cringe.

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After Zeke's death, everything started. At first, I wasn't aware of what was going on. No one wanted to tell me about his murder. So when I woke up the night after his death to him laying on top of my chest, I thought nothing of it. Zeke had a habit of coming into my cabin and just cuddling with me out of fear, so I just figured the reason he was gone, because he got lost in the woods and when he came back was scared to get lost again. Waking up that morning, he was gone. I figured he went to get food, but when I got there, he wasn't there. I had asked Duncken, the only other person in the canteen, if he had seen Zeke, but all I got from him was a horrified look. Then, seemingly at random, the other campers started to come up to me asking me to help find Zeke, giving the excuse of playing Hide and Seek, his favorite game. So I would help them, and find him in the oddest spots. He would jump out and hug me excited.

Then came Lindsy. Apparently the night of her death I was so deep in sleep, I didn’t hear the chaos of the killer outside the cabins. Later in the night, I felt a hand gently going through my hair along with the weight of Zeke on top of me. From what I could see looking up, it was Lindsy, I couldn't see her very well, but the smell of cherry blossoms was the only real identification to it being her. Between the two of them, I started sleeping really well after this, and they would visit me every night, especially, when there has been a killing.

Next was Sadie. Katie and Sadie never, and I mean Never apart. So, when Katie came back to camp without Sadie that made, real suspicious of what was going on here. Katie said Sadie got lost, and she couldn't find her. That didn’t sound right. The only thing with this was, I couldn't understand why she would lie to me. And after I saw Sadie near my door that next night, I thought, maybe Katie didn’t lie, but then I didn't see them together the next day. It worried me.

The last one that made me aware of what was happening was Justen. The two of us were walking together, when he suddenly stopped talking. I went looking for him without anyone noticing. I still have what I saw ingrained into my mind. There was a man over Justen, cutting his face off. I hid from the man. All I could think about at that moment was ‘Is this what they were hiding from me?’ but then I think about how I have seen my friends every night. ‘But did I really?’ Thinking about it, each night, it has been too dark to really see them, I could only guess it was them. I could smell Lindsy’s perfume, I saw Zeke’s face, and I could only see the silhouette of Sadie. If the case was they are dead.. ‘Who was I seeing?’

I needed to know who I was seeing, so the next night, I pretended to fall asleep. It took hours, and by god I really did almost fall asleep. But then, I felt a shift in my bunk. A weight was placed on top of me, Zeke. I had put a flashlight under the blanket where my hand was, so once i’m ready I could turn it on. Soon after I felt the weight I heard the door open, after a short moment I felt a hand gentle, run through my hair, Lindsy. The door opening made me realize Zeke didn’t come through the door. After a bit more of waiting, I felt watched, but before I started to move I heard Justin's voice, which if it wasn't for me trying to keep calm I would have freaked out. A quiet conversation broke out between Zeke, Sadie and Justin. I could only really hear when Zeke replied. They seemed to be talking about me, that’s all I could get from Zeke. They seemed to be talking about my day. Primarily the bad things, but they completely missed me witnessing Justin's murrder. I guess that is a good thing.

So now I'm here. Too scared to pull off my plane and just try to seem asleep. They don’t seem to be able to tell I'm not asleep, which for this moment is good. Mustering up all my courage, I pretend to sturr awake like I have done many times before. They become quiet, and I look around, like every time I have woken up before. Seeing each shadow, I get nervous to do this. I don’t know what I'll see, it's anything at all but I need to know. So, taking what little curgere I had left, and getting ready to sprint away if necessary, I make a quick, unexpected move to grab my flashlight and shine it in a way to light up the whole room. What I saw made me want to hurl. Between all the gore, and grotesque appearance of my “Friends' ' I could see that they were surprised at what I had done. I made a move to run. In their shock, I was able to get out and run to the boys cabin. In fear, I slipped into Geoff’s bunk.

I woke him up, but at that moment I didn’t care, I was scared that my cabin wouldn't work right now. “Hey, hey are you ok?” I look up at him and shake my head no. He just nods and holds me close.

Hours have passed, and I still can’t sleep. Every little noise, every little shift of the bed, prevents me from going to sleep. Every little thing made me cling to Goeff more. The image of what I saw still stains my mind. Out of all 4 of them, Zeke was what got to me the most. He was lying on top of me, but he was all chopped up. Every night, I could only see his face, but looking at him all the way, his head was cut off, his legs and arms were chopped in 4’s. His eyes were so dead. I still don’t fully know what was happening, but I know they're dead, and that thought terrifies me.

#island of the slaughtered #yandere #yandere writing #tdi island of the slaughtered #yandere tdi #yandere island of the slaughtered

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fandomscraziness22 · 11 months ago

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37 and 56 episode…4? of tcp caleb/adam but caleb had a nightmare and adam tries to help in the only way he knows (knew) how

hi friend! ok this is ep 3 au where they fall asleep before exploring! i did not reread this so hopefully it makes sense lol

as comfort (37) and out of habit (56)

Adam can't sleep, and he'd like to think it's the anticipation of exploration tomorrow. But he's pretty sure it's because of the boy in his living room.

With a sigh of frustration, Adam climbs out of bed and pads to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water will ease his mind. (It used to work, when he was little, before he met Caleb. Then it was Caleb who helped him sleep.)

I can't think like that, Adam berates himself. They've been broken up for a year now, and he needs to get a handle on himself, because that isn't how you interact with your ex.

He fills a cup from the sink and takes a long drink, trying to settle himself. Bed, rest, sleep, relaxation, restoration… The exercise from long ago crosses his mind, and Adam spends a long minute trying to think through more word associations. His body relaxes, and as he finishes his water, Adam finally feels ready to sleep.

Until the night is split by a low moan.

Adam startles, because he recognizes the noise. Having slept in the same bed as Caleb for years means that they are intimately aware of each other’s nightmare habits.

And Caleb’s start like this exactly.

It’s not my place, Adam thinks. They’re not together, and comforting after a nightmare definitely veers into boyfriend territory. This is what he’s not supposed to be doing.

But then the noise comes again, and Adam can picture Caleb’s face crumpled up, his eyes squeezed tight as he battles whatever his mind comes up with.

A good friend wouldn’t leave someone in turmoil, right?

Adam knows it’s a bad idea, but the instinct to help Caleb is so ingrained in him that he’s stepping into the living room before he can stop himself. Caleb is on the couch, blankets twisted around him from thrashing.

Caleb takes up so much physical space, Adam had almost forgotten that extended to his sleeping habits too. He's as spread out as he can be on the shitty couch Caitlin bought, and his face is scrunched up just like Adam thought. It sends a pang of longing and sadness through his heart—a reminder of what he lost.

Caleb grunts, then mutters, “No….didn't mean…”

The fear in his voice is enough to shatter the last of Adam's defenses. He slides down to his knees by the couch, calling softly, “Caleb, wake up.”

Not that he really expected it to work. Caleb’s dreams have always kept a tight hold on him. Physical touch is the only thing that will wake Caleb up.

This close, Adam can't remember why they broke up. The last year is wiped from his memory—he's just a boy trying to soothe someone he loves.

Caleb whimpers, and Adam reacts. He presses his lips to Caleb's, just enough pressure to let him know that he's there, to pull him out of the depths of his nightmare.

Adam pulls back, and Caleb’s face has smoothed just a bit. He's almost there (and Adam doesn't want to know what it says about him that he knows what the different stages of Caleb's nightmares look like), so Adam doesn't let himself think, just leans down and kisses him even softer.

“Wake up, Caleb,” Adam says.

And there it is—Caleb’s eyes shoot open and he breathes sharply, taking a moment to orient himself. Adam leans back, giving him space.

The sudden realization of what he did hits Adam like a stack of books to his chest. He's done the exact thing he wasn't supposed to—that isn't his to do anymore. He kissed Caleb, without asking for permission or thinking it through. And now Caleb's ability is probably going wild.

“Sorry, you were having a nightmare,” Adam whispers, not daring to look at Caleb. “I'll just go…”

He stands shakily and makes his way to the hallway. He hesitates, but Caleb is silent behind him. Shame fills Adam, and he walks back to his bedroom, cursing himself the whole way.

Maybe bringing Caleb here wasn't the smartest move after all.

send me a ship and a kiss!

#the bright sessions #the college tapes #tct #tbs #caleb michaels #adam hayes #caleb x adam

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koohyunnie · 2 years ago

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His hands moved out of habit, grabbing cans from a box and setting them on the shelf. Almost a decade of the same shit everyday had ingrained the menial task into his muscles. Koohyun briefly wondered what other things he did repeatedly without ever really thinking too deeply about them. There was plenty of mundane tasks that he had accumulated in a giant list in an attempt to be a normal functioning adult. What was the reason? To prove his parents wrong? Even though he had no real desire for their approval. He had long since stopped caring about them wanting him to be more like them. He just didn’t want to be bothered by people. He supposed at least pretending to be normal in public was okay. He was tired of his internal feud. He didn’t want to care about others’ opinion of him but he was acutely aware of everyone at work staring at him throughout the day. Especially lately.

Had he done anything out of the ordinary? Maybe. He couldn’t hone in on any particular incident. So he was standing at work, clearing his head while doing the menial tasks. After stacking cans he moved onto refilling the snack shelves towards the back of the aisle. He didn’t want to be near the front end. Koohyun tried to avoid the front end because the cashiers had a habit of trying to strike up conversations with him. And he hated talking at work. He didn’t even want to talk to customers. It was more exhausting than any manual labor he had ever done before. It was never a simple cut and dry conversation. Especially with the amount of tourists that would come in for snacks. The amount of American girls who would start snapping pictures of the colourful snack packaging and asking strange questions was staggering.

Maybe his lack of socializing with the new employees was causing issues. Koohyun thought, remembering that he was a manager and was in fact responsible for training the new stockers. And showing them around the store. He had been ignoring that aspect of his job. He usually left training to the other managers. He wasn’t great at explaining tasks to people.

He frowned behind his mask and cut the tape on his box, breaking it down and tucking it under his arm before he walked to the backroom. He needed to sit down and think for a moment. Not that it was time for a break or that he really wanted to take a break. He just wanted to figure out why everyone seemed to be acting just a little different around him. It wasn’t really noticeable at first. But Koohyun was certain that some of the front end employees had been staring at him longer than a simple glance. But none had tried to approach him to speak. Perhaps they were talking about him? What would he do then? Most likely nothing, Koohyun wasn’t keen on confronting people who talked about him. Whether it was good or bad. He just didn’t want people to talk about him. If they had an issue it would be nice if they would just say it to him directly.

He tossed the flattened box into the baler so it could be tied and recycled later. He tugged his mask off, letting it hang from one ear as he grabbed a bottle of water. It was room temp and had a stale taste. He had a bad habit of leaving his waters scattered around his stockroom but everyone was kind enough to not move them around. The basic level of respect, he figured. He sighed again and leaned against one of the racks of backstock. He was staring at the other shelves but he wasn’t really looking at them. He had tossed aside the thoughts about his coworkers acting differently. Now he was thinking about what he would eat after work. He had a rare double day off lined up and was thinking he would treat himself to something he hadn’t eaten in awhile. But he couldn’t think of what. He did have a bit of a hankering for pizza but he really wasn’t sure if that would satisfy his taste. Sometimes food just didn’t hit the spot right and made him feel like he had wasted his time eating it.

“Oh! Sorry..” One of the cashiers had come into the backroom so she could get to the breakrooms. She seemed startled to see Koohyun in the back. She flashed a small smile and brushed past to go take her break.

Koohyun watched her from his peripheral vision and could’ve sworn she had turned back to look at him twice in the short distance to the break area. He took a sip of his water before he set it down on the backstock shelf and grabbed a different box to take to the sales floor. There was always more room for the godawful snacks that tourists would buy. It didn’t take long to unload the box, break it down, and come back to toss it into the baler. He was wasting time by taking boxes out one by one. It wasn’t like anybody was going to complain about it. Not to be conceited but Koohyun was highly valued by the corporate level managers. They never questioned his method because he always got the shit done and the paperwork was filed that backed it up. And his current boss’ boss was the one who handled all of Koohyun’s employment records. His job was much more secured than his boss’ was. And he wondered if maybe that was why the other employees had started looking at him differently. Had he started giving off a different vibe? Koohyun paused in grabbing another box. He stared at the cardboard as he thought. He knew sometimes he could have a cocky strut. He had felt more comfortable around this store lately, it had been over a year since he had transferred to this location. So maybe he had started to walk around like he ran the place? That type of confidence could cause people to look at him differently. That was the most likely cause. It had happened at his old store. People had gotten annoyed with him acting like he ran the show, even though technically he did. He had been brought in by upper management to fix that location’s freight problem. People did seem to get annoyed when someone new messed with their way of doing things. And Koohyun was usually doing things his own way, not the way trained by corporate. That was the most logical reason for people behaving differently around him.

It was also entirely possible that Koohyun was being paranoid and mistaking innocent glances as longer stares. He wasn’t always great at understanding other people’s actions. He would figure it out eventually. But he didn’t want to deal with the uncomfortableness of thinking people were watching him work. It made it harder to zone out. If he became too aware of people watching him he might end up doing something embarrassing like dropping items or even tripping on his own feet.

“Excuse me, sorry.” The same cashier was trying to exit the stockroom now. Her break apparently over. Koohyun stepped to the side, leaning against the backstock shelves to give her more room to walk. But instead of walking out of the room she stopped near him. “Are you new here?” She asked and Koohyun was too stunned to reply for a moment.

“New?” He raised a brow and shook his head. “No. I’ve been here for a year or so.” He shrugged. Why was she talking to him? He couldn’t think of why she thought he was new.

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry. I never saw you around before. I started a couple of weeks ago.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Koohyun noted the silver hoops, she had three piercings in her earlobe.

“I’m not usually hear during the day.” He shrugged again. His eyes met hers. She had colour contacts in, they were brown to match her eye colour. He didn’t really understand why people would wear contacts in similar colours to their own eyes.

“Oh.. I see.” She laughed softly.

Koohyun wasn’t sure why she was talking to him. Her break should be over. Which meant that she should be back up at the register by now so the next person could take their break. But it seemed like she wanted to say something else. Koohyun wasn’t great at conversations in the workplace. “Gets busy during the day. Lots of tourists.” He stated and she nodded in agreement. He figured that he had killed the conversation successfully and he stopped leaning back on the shelf so he could get back to work. But she made no effort to go back to the front end of the store.

“Well, uhhm, I’m Yang Jihye, cashier. But I look forward to working with you.” She was smiling again.

“Yeah..” He nodded. “Lee Koohyun. Freight Manager.” He glanced towards the backroom doors. “You should probably get back to the front before you get in trouble with Nana.” He gestured towards the door. Alluding to the front end manager who got agitated if the break schedule was thrown off too much. Jihye grinned before disappearing out of the backroom. Leaving Koohyun very perplexed. He had a new thing to ponder about for the rest of this shift.

Because what the fuck was up with that random introduction?

#krp #chickenshit.#scrawling.#[ it's because he's a dense dumbass. ]#[ but that thought wont cross his mind because its work and work is work ]#[ its because the girls at work think he's cute. yuck. ]#[ i want to write more stuff. but this isn't what i wanted to write today. ]#[ scrawling will be a drabble type of tag. i have some ideas for other stuff. but that will wait for my day off. oof. ]

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vvcounselling · 2 years ago

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5 Tips to Manage your Procrastination

We’ve all done it at some time or other. We put off our exercise routine until tomorrow, we continually delay finishing that project or starting that business.

Procrastination is a common issue for people at work, home, and school. Procrastination takes many forms. At times, you may not even realize you procrastinate. You might be doing something that is still productive but takes you away from your goals and make justifications to yourself. We all do it! "At least I took out the garbage and did the laundry". Even though that project didn't get done once again. You may also be procrastinating if you spend a lot of time on email or social media, fill your time with insignificant tasks, or wait for the right mood or conditions to begin a task. It is also important to recognise why you procrastinate so you can change your mindset. Common reasons for procrastination include fear of success, not enjoying the task/finding it boring, issues with organization, feeling overwhelmed by the size of the task, perfectionism or poor decision making. It can be most helpful to address these issues individually.

Here are 5 effective processes you can use to slay this giant.

Do it now

Hold your breath and jump right in! Putting things off until the last minute is a bad habit and like all habits is ingrained in our subconscious mind and hard to break. It feels like the normal thing to do and we simply continue along our path. To complete a task immediately may even feel strange or like a forced action.

2. Take baby steps

Sometimes we procrastinate because the task may be intimidating to us. Perhaps we have no possible inkling on where to start. In these cases, it is quite fine to take it one step at a time. Say you are preparing a business plan and for the 5th time this week, you’ve turned on the PC and looked at the blank screen. Or you’ve just remembered you need to do some more research before you begin…you’re still not ready. It can help to break down the project into smaller pieces and tackle each bit separately. Make each task an individual project and after completion of each one, celebrate and acknowledge your achievement.

3. Accountability buddy

Having someone hold you accountable can be a great way to manage procrastination. You can ask a friend or coworker about your goals for the day and have them check in on you to see how you are doing. Some people find that studying in groups or just at the library around others helps them stay on task because others are nearby. They can help keep you focused and on track and cheer you on when you are doing well.

4. Support team

Do you put off tasks because you feel that they are too big and complex for you to handle alone? Or because you need assistance? Be honest with yourself. Ask for help! There are many resources out there that can provide you with all you need to carry out your job. If you’re a solo-professional and you put off answering emails, then don’t answer them yourself. Hire an assistant, find some college students that want experience, or get a family member to help. Procrastinating on life changing activities could be as a result of fear of the unknown. Get a mastermind group together, find a mentor, or a coach, or join a support group. You don’t have to do it all by yourself. Just ensure that to kick this habit, you do what feels good to you in whatever method you choose.

5. Reward Yourself

#ADHD Therapist #Behavioral Therapy for ADHD #Autism Therapy #ADHD Therapy

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years ago

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»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

later | m. izuku

➳ tags ;; fluff, confessions, deku is smooth, kissing, fluff, fem!reader implied i think

➳ wc ;; 2.4k (wtf)

➳ a/n ;; brainrot......

➳ plot ;; izuku midoriya listens to you when you tell him to confess to you again later. he’s waited his whole life for you but he doesn’t know how much longer he can

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

He thinks to himself often that it has to be you he’s been chasing all this time.

This isn’t so much a revelation to him. It’s nothing like eureka moment, an aha that he uncovers after years of reflection. After all, he’s not the type to know what he really wants.

Which is funny for many reasons but mostly because he’s a hero. He did want that, still does - but it wasn’t really an active choice. It wasn’t the desire to become a hero in terms of glamour and fame but a deep-seated knowing about the fact he had to become one. That the desire to save people above all else was rooted and deeply ingrained in him that there would never be anything that would fulfill him quite the same way.

He finds it more often than not he’s acting out of pure instinct. Something carnal and perhaps other-worldly that pins him to the world in an almost divine way. All or nothing, there’s one way to approach existence and it’s with this unwavering desire to be kind.

He’s always been that kind of person.

But, if he sat down and thought about it, the desire to be with you is perhaps one of his own. It’s one of the only things he’d chase to the ends of the earth.

Izuku Midoriya has loved you since he was 14

The first time he ever confessed to you was when he was 15, about half way into his first year at U.A. It was outside of your apartment - your childhood home. He’d walk you there after his classes, when he caught you returning from your own. It was an awkward and clumsy teenage confession even then but he can remember the details clearly.

It comes to him a series of images. Orange-yellow light that fell over your face, hairs sticking a little your head, trembling hands, ricocheting heartbeats, the sound of cars passing. He wasn’t very confident then, it makes him laugh thinking back at. But he told you anyways, bursting at the seams with his feelings.

“I like you!”

Your first reaction was shock immediately followed with a somber smile. Though he told you he had liked you, it was in the brief moment afterwards that he though there was more to it than that. He wouldn’t call it a rejection, but a wake-up call. You leaned in to kiss his cheek before whispering something back.

“If you mean it,” ― you whisper, hand on his shoulder and eyes heavy ― “Tell me again later,”

With that, you turned on your heel and went home. He wasn’t sure how to feel for a while, because it’s not like you said no. And you kissed him so that had to mean something.

Rather predictably after that, he became so caught up in hero work, it was only natural that you two grew distant. Once frequent conversations became words in passing, spoken quietly to each other. He went off to become a great hero, and you went off to study what you love.

It was a natural occurrence - he knows this now. He wonders what kind of thinking you had to have been doing to know that at 15. The older he got, the more he thought about what you said. How the once vague mention of “later” became a narrow time-frame. Not a moment too soon and not a second too later.

Izuku Midoriya has loved you all of 8 years. For most of them, it’s been a passive yearning. The emptiness of his bedframe and his disinterest. 8 years and he’s tried and failed to love other people. Maybe he was testing if later would ever come.

He’s 22 and he thinks to himself that he’s been chasing the feeling of loving you this whole time. That adrenaline from when you kissed his cheek all those years ago, he wonders to himself if it’s still there

He’ll have to go find out

After a night-out, you are unfortunately sober on the walk home. Work dinners should have a general policy for how much someone can drink, you think. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to shovel your boss into a taxi and remain regrettably conscious through a series of uncomfortable or agitating questions.

It wasn’t like he was invasive but he was.. annoying? And the fact you couldn’t sit through it by downing half a bottle of wine was a real shame . You’re so stone cold sober that your body shivers in the night air. Heels clacking against the pavement, eyes heavy and exhausted. You could endure it, you were finally going home after all.

You’d take a warm bath and hit the hay. Your body yearned for your bed and you don’t blame it. You sigh to yourself, hands in coat pockets.

“Just a little bit more,” ― you sigh, yawning and wiping your eyes ― “A little more and I’ll be...home?”

You were home, the front door to your building. There was an ominous looking figure sitting on the front steps. Your first reaction was to reach into your pockets and grab your keys between your knuckles. Your heart stuttered as you broached slowly. It was too dark to see clearly but maybe he was nice.

“Uhm.. excuse me, sir”

When he turns his head - your first reaction is to flinch. You step back as he turns his head only to grow stiff. A pair of warm green eyes and head of forest green locks await seems to be staring back at you. He gives you a warm smile - standing on his feet.

In a way, he’s unrecognizable to you. Though you see him all the time, Pro-Hero Deku making news, the image of him in your head is permanently small and frail. In front of you now, he’s grown up to be so big. A whole head taller than you and broad. He’s lean but clearly muscular. Intimidating in a sense.

“Ah, you’re home,” ― he says, non-chalant. You’re trying to recall the last time you spoke to him, the last time you’d even seen him. Maybe a year ago now? ― “I wanted to talk to you,”

Your first though is to ask questions. You had so many of them though, you’re not sure where to start. You want to ask how he’s been, and how did he find you, and how’s work going. You want to ask why he’s here after all this time and if following his dreams has made him happy how he hoped. You want to ask if he remember what he said to you at 15 - wondering if he still gets caught up on it like you do.

None of your words seem to string together right so you just shake your head a little, managing your disbelief.

“About what?” you ask. He pauses for a second, rubbing his chin before smiling at you.

“It’s later,”

Your eyes widen as he steps out of the way, using his hands to gesture towards your apartment. You blink at him but his smile is as cheeky as ever. Teasing and unusually handsome. You flush down to your neck before nodding.

“Oh, uhm.. right. Okay,”― you say, walking towards your complex doors ― “C-come on in,”

“You can uh.. take your shoes off at the door,” ― you say, after taking your own heels off and rushing to the kitchen ― “The green slippers should fit you,”

He nods as he watches you disappear to the kitchen. He takes in your apartment with a soft smile. Photos of you with your friends and family litter the entrance way. It’s filled with a soft yellow light, cozy like he’d expect. From below him, he hears a soft purr

A beige cat walks around his legs, observing him quietly before nuzzling against his thigh. His smile grows wide as he squats down and holds his hand for the kitty, waiting for it to approve of him before reaching and petting him. The cat is quick to the jump into his forearms.

“Who’s this?”

He ducks as he enters into the main area of your apartment. Your eyes widen as your usually stand-offish cat nuzzles comfortably in your childhood friends chest.

“His name is Creampuff,” ― you say, mildly stunned ― “He’s two,”

“What a good boy,”

Your heart races as you see him. After all this time, his presence still gives you those nervous butterflies. Maybe it’s because he’s become so attractive. Broader and taller but more rugged to look at.You feel like the floor might swallow you up.

“I’ll.. put on some tea,”

You take off your coat but you’re still in your work clothes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s staring at you. You’re too afraid to look behind you and see, confirm but his gaze is so heavy you’re almost certain. He traces the outline of your body and back with his eyes.

He can’t help but think you’ve filled out some. Even from behind - you look awfully pretty. You look disheveled and sleepy like you did back in highschool, after cramming for exams. A little older now with that same cute expression on your face. It’s hard to hold back or tear himself from you - so he doesn’t try. He just watches as you pour the tea into mugs and let it steep. Minutes pass and it’s quiet but not as uncomfortable as you’d expect.

You return to your kitchen table with two mugs, setting his down on a coaster.

“Careful.. it’s hot,”

He nods, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it before taking a sip. He hums.

“Ah.. it’s good. Thank you,”

A silence settle between you briefly. Your heart is in your throat, hands trembling a little on the table. When he notices, he reaches for them. This is another of his habits, you think. Comforting people must be second nature to him, but it only makes you more nervous.

“So.. how’ve you been?”

It’s the only thing you can think to ask. He studies your expression for a while. It used to the opposite of this. He used to be the nervous one, stuttery and unsure. You were always confident and steady - he’s sure you still are. This side of you is endearing though. He chuckles.

“I’ve been good. Work is hectic but that’s always,” ― and you’re going to ask him another question. Dodge what he’s really here for, but he cuts you off ― “I’ve missed you though, so I came to visit,”

You can feel it. This tension that presses against your back and makes you sit straight. He has that determined look in his eyes, easily recognizable when you watch him. In interviews and during fights and everything in between - like he knows what he’s going up against. To have it directed at you is so nerve-wracking, you find yourself doling under the pressure of his gaze.

You fidget, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was always too much for to you handle.

“O-oh?,”

He nods, taking your hand in his. He holds it to his lips, kisses your knuckles like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You wonder where he learned to act like this. He’s different but the same. It’s too much for you so you shut your eyes.

He stands until he’s on your side of the table. Rests on the corners edge with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you with fondness, an unmistakable affection. After all these years, it’s only grown. Double and tripled in size. No matter how much he would try and punch it down, it never deflates.

He thinks loving you is an act of heroism. The only way he could ever really save himself. 8 years and it feels like you’re old friends. Nothing unnatural or wholly uncomfortable. It’s strange.

“I thought about what you said. About telling you later. This time though,” ― he drops to the floor, crouched between your legs so slightly. He does it to look straight at you ― “This time though, I have to tell you properly so you can’t make me wait again,”

“I wasn’t making you wait,” you insist. He takes your hand in his and you unravel, body slumped. He kisses the palms of your hands, the inside of your wrist and it feels like gravity has no mercy on you.

“It felt like hell,” ― he tells you ― “I can’t sit still anymore so I’m telling you now. Even if you want to run away, I can’t let you,”

You frown, heart rapid.

“That’s not very heroic,”

He smiles.

“Good. I don’t wanna be your hero. I just want to love you selfishly as Izuku and not Deku,” ― he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles ― “So tell me you love me back and grant my wish. I waited all this time,”

You’re stunned into silence at his request. Eyes feeling especially water as he leans into you. It doesn’t make sense but it feels right. Your heart is beating - like you can feel all the blood pumping in you and your head feels light.

“You say it so easily,”

He laughs. It’s bright just like how you remember.

“How could you know after all this time? How could you be sure?”

He shrugs. You hit his shoulder at the nonchalance but he only chuckles. He leans in closer to you, inches away from your face.

“I waited for you all this time. Shouldn’t you give me a chance to show you?”

You sniffle as his hands cup your cheeks. His smile is so inviting, how could you refuse him?

“I’d like to kiss you,” ― he pauses, shaking his head ― “I want to show you. Let me,”

You nod as he leans into you. His lips are pillow and soft - touch addicting. You give into him so easily, tongue tied. He keeps you close, hand at the base of your neck. It feels so good, so perfect. You believe him when he kisses you like this With secrets under his tongue, between his teeth.

“Tell me your answer,” ― he demands, soft but stern ― “You didn’t before. I need to hear it,”

You give him an exasperated laugh.

“I love you.. obviously”

Right. Obviously indeed.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #deku x you #deku x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x y/n

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chubbology · 3 years ago

Text

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #male gainer

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Text

Beautifully Spent

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

- Chapter 2 -

A/N: As a note, each of these chapters is a separate story with a different point of divergence from canon timeline.

When Lan Wangji was six years old, and Lan Xichen nine, their mother died, breaking their hearts. Even Lan Qiren, who had never liked He Kexin and might have even hated her for having ruined all his dreams of travel, felt her absence keenly – he kept thinking of her at odd times, a matter of irrepressible habit. I should tell her about this next week, he would think as he watched his nephews accomplish something, or, upon receiving an offer to go night-hunting, We can’t go because we wouldn’t be able to make it back in time for the monthly visit, and then he’d abruptly remember she was dead and there would be no more monthly visits.

One time, sitting and watching Lan Wangji carefully practice his calligraphy during the time that would normally have been their monthly visit, he even found himself inexplicably wiping tears out of his eyes. It had been a struggle, but they’d finally gotten Lan Wangji to stop going to her door, ignoring snow and chill to wait there as if simply willing it would allow the door to open again, but he remained overly quiet, even quieter than he’d been before, the loss hurting him deeply, and seeing him hurt had hurt Lan Qiren. He tried to be subtle about it, to hide his abrupt display of emotionality, but before he knew it, Lan Wangji had come over to stand by his side, his little hands holding his own, earnestly mumbling, “Don’t cry, shufu, it’ll be all right” in an echo of what Lan Qiren had been trying so ineffectually to say to him.

“Yes,” he said, wiping harder, and ultimately giving up entirely and letting the tears stream down his cheeks, hiding his face entirely behind one of his sleeves. Lan Xichen found them at some point and curled up into Lan Qiren’s other side, tears starting to slowly seep down his own face; trying to hold back their strange shared grief was like trying to stop the tide. “It will be all right, eventually. I promise.”

He had made that promise too soon, it seemed: less than a week later, one of the elders remarked that it was time for Lan Xichen to take up some of the duties of running a sect.

“What?” Lan Qiren asked, blinking. “You’re joking. He’s nine.”

“He’s the future sect leader,” the elder said, and his gaze was cold. “Never forget, Teacher Lan, that although you fill the role now, you are only a custodian in his name.”

“That’s not the point I was making,” Lan Qiren said, frustrated; he had never been very good with words or with people. “Of course he will inherit the position, given time. But he is not even old enough for his own sword, and years away from night-hunting – why would you burden him with sect business? He’s far too young.”

“He is at exactly the right age to begin. How else can we ensure that he will not fall into the failings of his father or the crimes of his mother?”

“He is a child,” Lan Qiren stressed, wondering what he was missing. “We can only teach him to the best of our abilities, and hope that he does well with it; there’s nothing else that can be done.”

The elder shook his head. “We cannot take the risk of another generation of disaster. He must be trained, and trained now, trained well. If we do not take action, it may be too late, and he will be ruined.”

As you were, he didn’t say, but Lan Qiren felt keenly the burn of humiliation. He had never lived up to their expectations the way his brother had, and then his brother had gone and failed them all, too.

“What exactly are you thinking?” he asked, trying to dismiss the feeling of foreboding in his belly. An introduction to the burdens Lan Xichen would eventually face would not be so far amiss – a shichen a week of helping to transcribe simple letters, perhaps, or running errands, the sort of thing a boy could do and not be bored; that wouldn’t be too bad.

That wasn’t what they had in mind at all.

They wanted Lan Xichen to start tackling political problems at once, forcing him to make real decisions, deal with paperwork, and then also three times the usual lessons in sword and music, all the skills he would need to have. And all this, of course, on top of his regular lessons –

“We can assist, of course,” one of the elders said to the others, ignoring Lan Qiren’s aghast expression entirely. “But the sooner he grows accustomed to the work, the sooner he can step up –”

“You’ll crush him!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, interrupting, and he never interrupted the elders. “He’s a child, and a child who just lost his mother at that – how can you even suggest this? He would have no time to study in depth rather than shallowly, no time to think, to become his own person –”

“We will polish him into a perfect jade,” an elder said. “Him, and the younger one, too. What more do they need than to be of service to the sect?”

It wasn’t that Lan Qiren disagreed that service to their sect was the highest good, or that scholarly and martial pursuits were of the highest caliber, far more important than aimless play. He was a teacher, a strict one, and the sect rules accorded with his understanding: Learning comes first. But at the same time, there was learning and then there was learning – he was a teacher who cared for his students’ well-being, too. He knew that the approach proposed would not polish Lan Xichen into a jade but mold him instead, brutally pruning away any part of him that did not accord with the elders’ wishes.

It was just what they’d done to Lan Qiren the moment he became acting sect leader, after all.

They’d loaded him up with responsibilities until he’d nearly worked himself sick, refused to grant him the slightest freedom to travel even in a small and supervised manner, and they’d tried to force him to recant even those few things he did enjoy – composing music, teaching children. If he hadn’t already been as old as he was when it started, he wouldn’t have had the strength of will or determination to preserve even those few little things of his own…

“He should move into the hanshi soon,” another elder agreed. “If we expect him to take on the responsibilities of an adult, he should be treated as one.”

“Agreed. The sooner he disengages from messing around with his peers, the better. They will only distract him from what he needs to do.”

“I do not agree with this,” Lan Qiren said. “I am his guardian and his teacher. I do not agree.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Qiren,” one of the elders said, and Lan Qiren felt an automatic wash of shame, instinctive and ingrained after all these years. “You took the sect leader position with the knowledge that it would not truly be yours, and now you wish to preserve your personal power longer?”

I never wanted the position, which offers only power in exchange for its brutal demands! I still don’t want it! But to put it onto a child, any child, much less my own nephew who I love – how could I agree to that?

“You must not be selfish, as your brother was,” another elder scolded him, and normally Lan Qiren would be the first to agree. Being like his brother was his worst fear, and one he would do anything to avoid – but at the moment, the reminder felt wrong, as if they were using it as a tool to manipulate him rather than expressing what they really thought. “Do not cling to power and authority, after all. You cannot and must not steal what belongs to your nephews, Qiren. Never forget your place.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. His place?

He had never been selfish. He had sacrificed everything – he had been filial and loyal, obedient to his elders, and they had taken everything from him, just as they planned to do to the two children that had been entrusted to his care. The only difference was that Lan Qiren had been allowed to live freely for a little while, and even that freedom was only because the elders had utterly ignored him in favor of his more talented brother, who had been protected by the love of his powerful father; for his nephews, who were all but orphaned and left only in his inferior care, there was no such defense.

This time, it was clear that the elders meant to rectify the situation – this time, they wouldn’t even leave Lan Wangji his childhood, let alone Lan Xichen.

They would hollow them out and leave them as little more than puppets, blindly obeying the rules without having the time to contemplate their meaning. They would squeeze out every moment of every day, turning each endless shichen into a joyless burden, transforming the rules into little more than a yoke to chain them – his nephews wouldn’t be Lan, who chose willingly to obey because they loved the rules and loved their sect and wanted to give everything for it. They would be little better than slaves.

Perhaps, Lan Qiren thought suddenly, it was not his selfishness that the elders were constantly seeking to correct. Perhaps it was their own.

He tried, first and foremost, to argue with them, but they did not listen to him. They had never listened to him, not from the first moment he had yielded to their wishes over his own desires and allowed himself to be trapped in the Cloud Recesses as the new sect leader. No – it was even older than that, from even before then, from as far back as when he had been small and helpless and crying out for help in his own way, not even knowing what was happening to him and why…

They had always turned their faces away.

Lan Qiren had tried his best to please them, and had failed. He’d thought the blame lay with him, but now he wasn’t so sure – now he thought that it didn’t matter what he did, that he never would.

Lan Qiren’s nephews were the ones who were small and helpless now, and unlike the elders that should have watched over him, he would not turn away.

The plan he hatched was ruthless in the extreme, but there was nothing else he could think of in his desperation. The Lan sect had always been very secretive, in its own way, keeping outsiders from knowing their personal business; although everyone within the sect knew that it was the elders who held all the real power, even if they disdained the work of it and left much of that for Lan Qiren to accomplish, from the outside it appeared as though Lan Qiren were sect leader, invested with all the powers of one.

To be a sect leader, in their day and age, was to be a tyrant.

No need to look at Wen Ruohan, the chief example of this trend, a man who made his sect kneel and touch their heads to the floor upon hearing that he was coming. It was enough to look instead at the Jiang sect, whose sect leader Jiang Fengmian whiled away his days waiting for his old lover to write, ignoring his wife despite her maternal family’s power and influence within his territory. Look at the Jin sect, where Jin Guangshan bedded every prostitute and poor young lady within range, surrounded by a cloud of rumors regarding whether he’d bothered to get all of them to consent – rumors there might be, but no one dared to make any trouble for him over it without actual proof. Look at Lao Nie, whose sect, elders and all, sighed and shook their heads over his excessive fondness for dangerous people, but could take no action to stop him.

Look at Lan Qiren’s father, who had spoiled one child into madness and neglected the other into near despair, and had trained his whole sect to accept it as a given. Lan Qiren was working to repair that damage, to lead by example, but it was a hard upward struggle – rot might start at the head, and healing, too, but the healing was harder than the rotting.

A sect leader, in short, was a tyrant.

And as far as the world was concerned, Lan Qiren was the sect leader.

Lan Qiren bided his time until the next discussion conference. It hurt him to wait, seeing poor Lan Xichen get stretched thin under his new duties and constantly reminded to keep a serene smile on his face throughout, seeing poor Lan Wangji so stressed at his brother’s misery and his own amplified lessons that he'd started biting people again, but he knew it was necessary. A discussion conference meant outsiders, and outsiders meant not losing face; it was the one time that Lan Qiren was actually treated as a sect leader by all around him, the one time no one would gainsay anything he said, even if they would later tear strips off of him in private.

It was his only chance.

"I have an announcement," he said mildly, presiding over the large gathering that marked the conclusion of the discussion conference. His Lan sect was the host of this conference, and he was accordingly seated at the head of the room, equal with the other Great Sects but given additional deference in view of the location - it was easy for his voice to carry, despite his quiet tone, and all the sects turned towards him to listen. They were probably expecting something anodyne, some additional prize or information about the weather to keep in mind as they departed. "I have decided that my Lan sect's ties to the rest of the cultivation world have grown stale, seeing each other as we do only at these times and the common people only on night hunts. As a result, in my authority as Sect Leader Lan, I intend to make a journey throughout the various sects, taking along my nephews to introduce them to your families. In my absence, the Cloud Recesses will be managed by my cousin, Lan Yueheng -"

Talk exploded in the whole audience, furious and loud, all but his own Lan sect which was calm and stone-faced as always, though of course that was only their pride and concern for face overwhelming their shock. Poor Lan Yueheng was the exception, of course, his jaw dropping open like a weight dropped from a great height until his neighbors noticed and elbowed him in the side to make him stop - Lan Qiren mentally apologized for not having warned his cousin up front. He hadn't dared to risk it.

" - and accordingly I will be leaving alongside the rest of you at the conclusion of this conference," he concluded, for once relieved that his voice never varied far from a monotone; he sounded cool and calm and in control, and like he hadn't noticed the way his sect elders were trying to strangle him with their gaze even as the maintained decorum. "Our first destination is the Nie sect's Unclean Realm, with Lao Nie as our host."

Lan Qiren hadn't warned Lao Nie, either, but he knew him well, and to his relief hadn't misjudged him - the other man didn't spare so much as a moment to blink in surprise, instead grinning broadly at the other sect leaders.

"You bet you are," he laughed, his voice booming and loud. "And don't think I'll let you leave so quickly, Qiren - not until your nephews are best friends with my sons, and not until you've had a chance to work your magic on my sect's younger generation and turn them from little beasts into proper gentlemen!"

Lan Qiren barely resisted rolling his eyes - he still didn't know who it was that had come up with the nonsense about him being able to turn the most hopeless waste into a gentleman, but it was rank exaggeration. But to his surprise, the first person to respond was the head of one of the more distant small sects, Baling Ouyang, a young man with an excitable temperament; he leapt up to his feet and exclaimed, "Will he really? Sect Leader Lan, I insist you visit my Ouyang sect next, if you haven't made firm plans - I scarcely recognized my little hellion nephews after a season in your care, all grown up, careful in thought and action, compassionate and upright...and no more pranks!"

Another exaggeration. The Ouyang twins had been troublesome only at the start, until Lan Qiren realized that what they longed for most was recognition as separate beings rather than a collective whole; as soon as he'd treated them with respect, and showed them how to act in return, they'd taken to his lessons like a desert to water.

"Sect Leader Lan's skill in teaching is very well known," Sect Leader Yao said, always first to speak after his friend from the Ouyang sect. "You'll really come to our sects to do it, rather than our children to the Cloud Recesses? And you won't charge, of course...?"

"Naturally no," Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by their enthusiasm. Was it so expensive to send children to the Cloud Recesses? He’d never charged for his lessons, although he supposed there was the cost of travel and maintenance to the standard preferred by students, and of course guest gifts were customary, although he never made any demands. "I would be your guest, and enjoying your hospitality – room and board would be more than sufficient…"

"In that case, you should come to Pingyang next -"

"No, Yueyang!" someone else called, and before Lan Qiren knew exactly what was happening, the sect leaders were arguing over who he should visit first. The most enthusiastic were the ones whose children he had taught already, but the others were quick to catch up, loathe to miss out on what they perceived to be a good deal - even Wen Ruohan, never one to lose out to others when it came to something perceived of as desirable, extended an offer with a smug, snake-like smile.

Lan Qiren provisionally accepted all the offers with a growing sense of relief: with such public acceptance, the Lan sect would lose more face by refusing to let him go than in allowing his unorthodox action. It was just as he has hoped, and more successful than he'd dared to dream; the other sects had fixated on his teaching skills and in doing so had ignored the strangeness of a sect leader taking his heirs and all but running away from home.

That relief carried him through to the end of the meeting, when everyone divided up to pack up their things, and Lan Qiren returned to the inner parts of his sect to do the same.

"What are you thinking?" one of the elders demanded the second they were alone. "Have you gone mad?"

"Did you see the reception of my idea?" Lan Qiren replied, hiding the giddiness of relief under a facade of calm. "The sect will benefit greatly from the connections we will make."

"That's no answer!"

Lan Qiren was a filial child; even if they were wrong, he would not tell the elders so to their faces. Instead he only bowed deeply and said, "What's done is done. I need to get ready, and quickly; it would be embarrassing if we weren't prepared."

Of course, he'd already packed everything he thought he'd need, determined to take Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji with him no matter what - it was only luck that his plan had worked as well as it had, allowing him to pretend to some move of subtle strategic genius rather than a retreat out of desperation. Still, he needed to go through the motions.

"Fine," another elder spat out, although their demeanor made it clear that it wasn't fine at all. "But did you have to announce that the provisional leader was Lan Yueheng? He's completely unfit!"

By which they meant that he wouldn't listen to them - that he was brash and lacked tact, said what he thought and cared for nothing but his experiments, his wife, and his children. Out of all of Lan Qiren’s cousins, he was the most thick-faced, shameless to the extreme, essentially immune to criticism or guilt.

That was, of course, exactly why Lan Qiren had picked him.

"He's good at math and accounting, and at arranging provisioning," Lan Qiren said, picking the more acceptable reason. "That's the key responsibility left over, isn't it? Everything else, I can do through correspondence."

The reassurance that Lan Qiren would still be doing his duty to the sect - would still be accountable to them - helped settle some ruffled feathers. It wouldn't be pleasant to try to do the work of sect leader from abroad, Lan Qiren knew; it would mean a lot of sleepless nights slaving away by candlelight, with no support from any aides, bearing all the weight himself. No doubt the elders knew it too, and figured that he'd soon enough lose interest in what he heard them calling, in hushed voices where they thought he could not hear, his "little show of rebellion".

Lan Qiren didn't care. The sooner they left, the better the chances that the elders would continue to be deceived into thinking that Lan Qiren was doing all this for his own sake - some last stab at achieving his long forgotten dreams, doomed to inevitable disappointment - instead of what it really was, which was freedom for his nephews. They couldn't be assigned work or classes from a distance; their education would be wholly in Lan Qiren’s hands.

He'd take a thousand sleepless nights of overwork if it meant they got to be children a little longer.

"Are we really going to the Unclean Realm?" Lan Wangji lisped, looking even more rosy-cheeked and excited than usual. "Will – will Nie-gongzi will be there?"

"Yes, Mingjue-xiong will be there," Lan Xichen said, and grinned at Lan Qiren over his brother’s head. He looked more carefree than he had in...possibly years, and Lan Qiren briefly regretted how long it had taken him to do this. "Since you like him so much."

Lan Wangji turned bright red at once.

"Both of the Nie boys will be there," Lan Qiren said. "The younger one is closer to your age, Wangji. You can get to know him as well."

Lan Qiren went next to the library pavilion, looking for books on their sect rules - he might not trust his sect elders, but he loved his sect, loved their rules and traditions, and he wanted his nephews to love it, too. He wanted them to see the Cloud Recesses as a refuge, as a haven - not a burden.

He would give his nephews the freedom he'd longed for, and when they were older...when they were older, more resilient, more sure of who they were, he would bring them back and he would ensure that they obtained their rightful inheritance. In full, not in part - Lan Xichen would be a real sect leader, not a puppet for the elders, taught only to be pleasant and yielding and to perform well with his cultivation, swordsmanship and music only for the purpose of impressing outsiders. Lan Wangji would be his brother’s right hand, would love and respect him and be loved and respected in turn.

Maybe, Lan Qiren thought to himself, amused, they would even find some compatible child on their way and one day return to bring them home as a dao companion.

He couldn't wait to find out.

#mdzs #lan qiren #lan xichen #lan wangji #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #beautifully spent

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thearoacewriter · 3 years ago

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the foxes on a party, Neil got drunk A LOT and started dancing, others were surprised but most(I don’t know what Andrew and Kevin would do😟) of them joined him

I tried writing this a million times, but brain broke and I hated it each time akjfajsfh so I hope you don’t mind that I’m making this an hc

Even after the foxes find out everything about Neil, he’s still pretty hesitant to drink. Old habits die hard and he doesn’t really see the point in it. He’ll have a shot or two to make them happy (because we all know Neil is a big softie when it comes to the foxes) but that’s about it

One night, he decides to let loose a little. He’s only ever really been “drunk” when he was using it as an anesthetic on the run, but he wants to see what it’s like in a safe setting with his friend and Andrew at his back. Though, at least for the beginning of the night, he stays away from Andrew. He doesn’t know how the drinks will affect him and he doesn’t want to touch Andrew without his permission, even if it would be an accident

Andrew, of course, knows what Neil is doing and rolls his eyes, making his way to his boyfriend. He holds out a hand and Neil whispers out a tentative “are you sure?” Andrew nods and doesn’t pull away, so they hold hands for the rest of the night.

After that night, he drinks more leniently with his friends. Though he still doesn’t see any point in it, he doesn’t see any harm in it either. It makes him feel more dizzy than drunk anyway, so he puts trust in himself that he can control his actions.

The one thing Neil never did was dance. Countless times, the foxes have tried to pull him to the dance floor but he would refuse every single time. He didn’t see how moving around in a crowd of wriggling bodies could be any fun. Besides, that meant he’d have to leave Andrew behind, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do.

However, there was a first time for everything. Neil didn’t exactly know what made him get up and join Renee and Allison on the dance floor. Maybe it was the fact that he felt restless. Maybe it was the fact that they were in the safety of the Foxes and Vixens, and not the stranger filled Eden’s. Maybe it was simply the fact that Renee and Allison looked like they were having fun. Whatever it was, Neil got up and walked over to them.

Allison looked shocked, but Renee just smiled. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Neil said. The shock on Allison’s face was replaced with amusement and exasperation. She laughed and held out her hands. “I’ll teach ya, kid.”

And so Neil danced. First with Allison pulling his arms here and there, and then on his own, Renee and Allison jumping around him. Eventually, they were joined by Dan, who gave Neil a bright smile, and Matt, who ruffled up Neil’s hair.

Nicky was the last to join, as he was in the bathroom when it happened. “Neil’s dancing with us and you guys didn’t immediately come get me? Some friends you are,” he said with no malice or upset in his voice. He jumped into the mix, dancing like he’s been doing it for hours already.

And Neil had fun.

He didn’t know what he expected to get out of it, but he felt a small thrum through his chest as he moved around. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He never thought he’d have a life like this, but there he was, surrounded by his friends, his family. The only thing that could make that moment better was…

He felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, he saw the familiar mussed up blonde hair. He didn’t bother hiding the full force of his smile. Neil looked behind the shorter man to the table where Kevin sat alone. He didn’t exactly know where Aaron was, but that didn’t matter. Not when Andrew was right in front of him.

Andrew held out his hands. “Are you sure this is okay?” Neil asked. “There’s a lot of people and not a lot of space.” “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to.”

But Neil dragged them to a more secluded area anyway. They could still hear the music, still see their friends, but there was no risk of Andrew accidentally getting touched. Andrew rolled his eyes and whispered “156%”. Neil laughed quietly and moved Andrew’s arms around a bit, the way Allison did to him earlier.

“I’ve never seen you dance before,” Neil said.

Andrew shrugged. “I’ve never seen the point in it.”

“What changed your mind?”

Andrew was quiet for a moment before answering, “You.”

Neil looked at him like he’d hung the moon.

Andrew rolled his eyes again, but didn’t say anything. He drew Neil in closer, leaving him plenty of room to get away if he wanted to. Neil didn’t, obviously. He let Andrew pull him in until their foreheads were touching. Normally, they weren’t big fans of pda, but they were in a secluded enough space that no one paid them any mind or even noticed that they were there.

Despite the fast pace of the song, they swayed around slowly for a moment, Neil’s arms around Andrew’s shoulders, Andrew’s hands on Neil’s waist. It was nice. Neil could probably fall asleep if he wanted to.

But he didn’t. He wanted to ingrain that moment into his brain. He was jealous of Andrew’s eidetic memory, wishing he could see this memory frame by frame on his mind whenever he wanted to, Then, he thought that he could ask Andrew to describe it to him. The thought made him smile.

“Hey, Andrew?”

Andrew hummed in acknowledgement. Neil pulled back so he could look into those eyes that he liked so much. Neil grinned, ever so slightly.

Maybe it was the atmosphere that made Neil say what he said next. Maybe it was the fact that Dan and Matt were cooing at each other in a corner. Maybe it was Allison and Renee standing in the middle of the dance floor in a fierce embrace. Maybe it was just the fact that Neil couldn’t keep the words in any longer. It had been almost four years after all.

“I love you.”

Andrew pulled away from Neil completely. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not. I’ve only had soda tonight.”

Andrew blinked at him.

“You didn’t notice?”

Andrew didn’t answer. He looked to the Foxes, then back to Neil. Finally he held out his hand. Once Neil took it, Andrew pulled them out of the basement study room and out into the cool night. He turned on Neil as soon as they were away from prying ears.

“What are you doing?”

Neil scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion. “Following you?”

“No. Why did you say… what you said?”

Neil was more confused than ever. “Because I love you?”

“And you meant it?” Andrew asked quietly.

Neil softened. “Yeah, Drew. Of course, I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

Andrew nodded, but kept quiet.

“And you don’t have to say it back,” Neil continued, wanting to make his intentions clear. “You probably already know that, but I just wanted to clarify that I didn’t tell you because I expected anything back from you. You’ve always been more of a ‘actions speak louder than words’ type of guy.”

Andrew nodded again. He looked like he was contemplating something, tilting his head the slightest bit. “Yes or no?”

“It’s always a yes with you.”

Andrew bunched a hand up in the front of Neil’s hoodie and pulled him closer, placing a soft kiss to his lips. It didn’t last long. Once they broke apart, Andrew attached himself to Neil, arms wrapping around Neil’s midsection.

Neil kept his arms up, not entirely sure what to do. They’d never hugged like this before. Neil didn’t know what was allowed.

“You can touch my back,” Andrew said, words muffled by the fabric of Neil’s hoodie. Neil obliged. He hugged Andrew back, burying his face in Andrew’s hair. He’d been using Neil’s shampoo recently. Neil smothered his grin, but he couldn’t smother the giddiness from bubbling up inside him.

And then, as quiet as a hummingbird sipping from a flower, Andrew spoke.

“I love you too.”

#andreil #andreil fic #neil x andrew #andrew x neil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg fanfic #aftg #aftg headcanon #andreil headcanon

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

Can you please to the EXU crew with a reader who’s very openly affectionate and loves PDA and cuddles and everything? Have a nice day, bye.

Hope this turned out the way you wanted. Have a nice day! 😘

(Dorian)

From the moment Dorian met you it was clear you were a very physical individual. The dead give-away being you offering him a hug upon first meeting you. He’ll have to admit he was a bit taken aback by this as usually in his circles meeting someone goes with the shake of a hand, a simple nod of the head or even a bow/curtsy. He happily embraced you in the literal and figurative sense.

The concept of holding hands, cuddling, a kiss on the cheek and such had always been something Dorian considered romantically affectionate but you opened a whole new world for him showing him these gestures can but should not be limited to romantic partners. As long as all parties involved are comfortable, why should the lack of romantic interests prevent you from engaging in these comforts? At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if you’re romantically interested or not. Even in a relationship it doesn’t change anything except that your affections may develop into something that does go a bit beyond what ‘just friends’ would engage in even by your standards.

Dorian is inclined to agree with you and even so early on, barely knowing you at all he found himself asking for hugs or just cuddle up on the couch after a long day, the gesture bringing a comfort he hadn’t experienced in a long time. When clear Dorian was comfortable with this new dynamic you’d ask him the same. Private or public makes no difference.

At first the remarks of “the couple being at it again” were met with a “shut up” from him. You’d learned to ignore these or brush them off. Not like you care but Dorian didn’t let it go that easily. Granted, he didn’t care either about what other people said or thought about your endless displays of affection, he has a need to have the last word. “If you’re jealous you could have just said so,” is a classic Dorian comeback in these scenarios.

(Orym)

You are everything Orym fears. Don’t get him wrong, you’re absolutely wonderful and he loves you but as someone who emotionally distances himself from his private matters in public circles, you go against everything ingrained in his person. It’s a hard habit to break away from so especially early on he’s a bit hesitant to engage in any public displays of affection preferring to keep his distance until you’re in a more private space.

This feeling really conflicts because he doesn’t want to deny you physical affection, he’d happily have engaged in were you not surrounded by other people. It takes some time but when he’s sure no one will notice Orym will lace your fingers together or place himself just a little closer to you. It’s a start that little by little sends him into the next step.

First time he cuddled up with you when the others were around he was bit awkward about it. Everything in him told him he shouldn’t but he fought the urge to retreat. First sitting next to you, then wrap an arm around you, placing his head against your shoulder. You of course were happy Orym took the first steps. You didn’t want to push him and allowed him to do things at his own pace to assure his comfort. He may have kept his eyes out awaiting whatever response the others would throw at him but they were silenced by your look of warning.

He’s still hesitant at times but will give you plenty of hugs and kisses and hold your hand in public. It’ll be a long road but he’ll get there. He knows he enjoys these displays of affection and so do you. He’s grateful for your patience and willingness to take things slow for his sake so he can see what he is and isn’t (yet) comfortable with. Without your gentle approach he doesn’t know if he’d ever have been able to not get awkward about engaging in displays of affection and without freezing up because of them.

(Fearne)

This faun is no stranger to displays of affection. She had a loving family, and if her interactions with Little Mister are anything to go by, they are a testament that Fearne at ease is a physically affectionate Fearne. At that point she never shies away from physical contact of any kind. She hadn’t in the past that is. Being sent to the Material Plane changed that a little bit. Fearne has a keen eye and caught on to the fact that people here are less like her in many many ways.

That’s what keeps Fearne a bit hesitant. Learning that you are just like her but the social constraints of others keep you more to yourself builds an instant connection. Displays of affection in more closed circles became second nature, and in public, being a six feet faun with insanely long green hair and flowers all over her person accompanied by a monkey already draws plenty of attention so how much worse could it be engaging in public displays of affection?

You draw many eyes as to be expected but less so because you’re holding hands or offering the faun a little kiss and more because of the odd pairing of the two of you next to each other. Especially in circles more knowledgeable of the Feywild they entertain the thought the faun must have you under some sort of spell. You’re definitely not under any spell.

Though, because you do love a bit of mischief sometimes you play along, you clinging to Fearne like some lovesick puppy, Mister playing his part just the same (he enjoys it a little too much) and your friends convincing people this is the most normal thing in the world and you’re always like this. It’s always funny to find out you’re both equally enamoured and laughing your asses off at giving people a bit of a fright.

(Dariax)

You accidentally kissed Dariax’s cheek as a thank you for helping you. You didn’t mean to but the dwarf wasn’t opposed either. Didn’t prevent a deep scarlet blush from spreading across his cheeks the moment your lips made contact. Cue an awkward at loss of words Dariax. This definitely doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the physical contact. If anything, he really enjoys it. He just got caught off guard and if anyone mentions his response to this particular incident he’ll argue he took it all cool and suave.

The realisation that you do not care about the circles you’re in when it comes to displaying affection is a godsend. Dariax is very much the same but he has a reputation to keep so he can’t just go over to someone and ask for cuddles. What might they think of the expert thief?! So the fact you’re totally cool with ‘initiating’ any kind of pda makes him happy because he still gets to play it off cool when people ask.

Out in public he’ll gladly hold onto you, provide kisses, lean into your side and more and you’re always more than happy to return the favour. It’s been a while since Dariax had anyone he could engage in this type of contact with so be prepared for him not letting you go unless you ask him. He’ll totally miss any social cues, too caught up in your comfort.

Cuddled up together in the back of the cart, sharing a seat, holding hands, kisses you name it and people will have seen it from the two of you. The others have gotten used to this dynamic between the two of you and while they don’t let the first incident go, the little comments made are all in jest and good spirit where they even occur between you and Dariax yourselves.

(Opal)

This girl… She is so touch starved. Ever since the falling out and her departure from her home town she’s been missing physical contact and what brief and few experiences she did get, were always fleeting. But then you came around and she latched onto you right away. All the hugs all the time, arm draped over your shoulders or waist whenever you’re standing or sitting in one place.

Opal started it but it soon became clear you were the same and returned the favour. She couldn’t be happier because while she’d be totally okay having this thing be one-sided and you just accepting this as her Opal-way she much prefers it when someone’s willing to put in the work. She’s a very physical person, so are you. Match made in heaven. You’re perfect together. Romance, platonic, who cares?!

Now don’t let her go off the rails too much because she can also be very demanding. Sometimes it takes a level head to keep things in check but you’re not one to resist a good cuddle even if that’s somewhere on a park bench in the middle of a city with hundreds of eyes watching you. You realise there is a time and a place and once upon a time so did Opal. She tends to get a bit caught up in the fact she finally has someone like that at her side again so you’ll have to remind her it’s not alway the right moment.

As much as you and Opal are physically affectionate people, Opal is also physically intimidating so if anyone dares to say anything rude about your pda she will not hesitate to cut a bitch. She’s a lover of attention so as long as the comments are light hearted she’ll smile and get just a little more sappy in her affection just for that reason.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #dorian x reader #dorian storm x reader #orym x reader #fearne x reader #fearne calloway x reader #dariax x reader #dariax zaveon x reader #opal x reader #critical role #exu #exandria unlimited

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systlinsideblog · 3 years ago

Text

Part 4

I still lived.

I was, I thought, greatly in the minority. The woman Systlin had judged warrior after warrior, and warrior after warrior had met his end at a quiva's blade.

A great many of the sentences were carried out by the hands of the freed slave girls of the warriors. The number of these astounded me, as did the ferocity with which many of the girls fell upon their masters.

It is a Gorean saying that a woman cannot be free until she has been a slave. It is said that a woman wishes to be conquered, that she cannot respect any man save for the man who can reduce her to nothing.

The girls fell upon their masters with a fury I have rarely seen, and blood flowed until the grass was slick and red with it.

A few girls did not take up the quiva. These men, once sentence of death was passed, the she-sleen on the Ubar's robe killed herself. Her face was untroubled by this, unworried, and there was even a hint of vicious pleasure in those cold eyes as she swung the sword to remove their heads.

Those warriors who had taken Free Companions and who had children, the she-sleen ordered all material goods be split equally between the Free Companions, the children, and the freed slave girls. There were many sour faces among the Tuchuk women at that, but to my shock many more who accepted it without question.

When night neared, scarce three dozen warriors of the Tuchuk still lived, myself included. It was us and only us who had not admitted to owning slaves, and who had no slaves to call out our names.

A very few men..two or three, in all...had been spared by the request of their slave girls. These men were whipped, and the she-sleen commanded ash be rubbed into the whip wounds.

"I would have them remember." She had said, eyes cold and face passionless, even as the warriors held back cries of pain. "I want them to remember their crimes, and to remember me."

Those of us who had survived the slaughter had been unchained and taken to wagons, and allowed to eat and rest.

"So." Kamchak had survived the culling, and his face was set and cold. "We are free, then?"

"You are not slaves." Systlin had smiled a little, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "But if you seek to flee, or to move against me...well."

Behind her, I could see women chaining hunting sleen outside the wagons. Each was given clothing to smell; I noticed with a start a discarded tunic of my own among the items. The sleen began to pull and hiss, eyes bright.

"Say, rather, that you are prisoners for the time." Systlin continued. "I've much to do, and I've no time to be worrying about one of you burying a knife in my back in my sleep." Another humorless smile. "I'm not fool enough to think that all...or any...of you are paragons of virtue. I'll get the truth in time."

Kamchak spat. "You," he informed her, "Are the most disagreeable and wrenched wench I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There will come a day, where you meet a man to bring you to heel." A smile. "I wish to be there to see it."

I felt my heart sink; they were unwise words, but then Kamchak was Tuchuk.

To my surprise, the woman Systlin threw back her head and laughed, as if at a wonderful joke.

"Ahhh!" She wiped tears from her eyes at last, as I stared, stunned. "When I find my way home, I will tell Foicatch that." Another laugh. "A woman isn't brought to heel. We can choose to be a partner, or to bide our time and pretend until the time is right, but brought to heel? HA! You saw that, I think, today." Another terrible grin. "I saw your faces, when the women turned on your warriors. You did not expect that, did you?"

"Foicatch?" Kamchak, ever keen, inquired.

"My husband." Systlin said this lightly, easily. "Father of my daughter."

"Good god, you are married?" The words were out of me before I could think better of them. I tried to imagine what bedding such a woman would be like, and thought to myself that it would be much like the risk taken by the male of the praying mantis of Earth; what sort of man would marry such a creature?

"Yes. Goodnight." She shut the wagon behind her.

There was a moment of silence. Then, Kamchak spoke.

"It is probably a bad time, Tarl Cabot," he said. "To mention that Kutaituchuk was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

"What?"

It was surprising, Systlin thought, how many of the Tuchuk women had been willing...eager, even...to take up weapons and stand guard at her wagon.

Not to her. No. On Ellinon, the children of the Lady would have found the ideas of the men of this 'Gor' incomprehensible, unlawful, hearsay, and downright suicidal. But to many of the women of Gor themselves, Systlin thought, the sheer thrill that came when picking up a blade or spear was new.

She tried to picture what would have happened had Stellead found herself in this shithole of a world. Death, absolutely; her aunt had little talent in any form of Power, but she had won her place as Arms Master of Stellas Keep and as a Commander of the Bloodguard through sweat and skill.

Even now, Systlin could only best her aunt blade to blade perhaps two matches out of three.

If anyone...man, woman, even the gods themselves...had tried to bring Stellead to heel, she'd spit in their eye and disembowel them.

Systlin smiled to herself. It was a stubbornness and force of will that she herself shared, and that her aunt, mother, and father had always fostered.

The women did not know quite how to hold a spear, of course. Systlin had tried to gently insist that she didn't need an armed guard, more because she knew full well that they'd not yet be up to a fight than because she believed that. But they had insisted, and in the end she had simply advised them to stick to knives for the time being.

The rugs and cushions and furs in the wagon were quite comfortable, and she was quite tired, but sleep was elusive.

All of this...the rugs and furs, the sound of animals outside, the sound of low voices from the camp, the smell of dried dung fires...it was too similar to her time with the Rabi, with Sura, before Sura had become Queen of the Sands, when she'd simply been the leader of her clan.

Sura's laugh, bright as a bell, and the taste of pomegranate wine. The light of the brazier catching glints of copper and red off of Sura's black hair, which gleamed almost blue in sunlight.

The rugs beside her were cold, and she suddenly felt very alone.

Her throne would be empty. She'd held the North together through sheer grit, guile, charisma, and the edge of a sword, and beaten it back into working shape after the War of the Crown had nearly destroyed it.

Her daughter was only a girl. Foicatch, dear Foicatch, would do his best, she knew, but he was at heart a soldier, not a monarch.

Her sister would step in, at least. 'Sina was capable. But she didn't have the fear and respect of the lords of the realm and the love of the common folk the way Systlin did.

"Why am I here?" She whispered this in the dark, at the roof of the wagon.

No one answered.

"I have my own place. People who will miss me." She scowled at the dark, and anger rose hot and furious. "Responsibilities! I've not got time for...this!" She waved a hand randomly, indicating everything about this strange place.

No one answered. But Systlin had met gods in her time, and she knew that if they cared to, they could hear.

"Send me back!" She hissed this at the darkness, not sure who she was angry with. "Have I not done enough? Send me home! I do not want this!"

Nothing.

Exhaustion, at last, won out, and she slept.

She was, in her dreams, not surprised at her visitor.

The Lady's face could never be seen. The most that could be gathered was an impression of poise, of stately calm. It was impossible even to place what color Her hair was, or her skin, though the hair floated around her like a cloud and she was nude.

"You?" In her dream Systlin could still feel her anger, though it was a hollow ghost of what she'd felt while awake.

Me. It wasn't a spoken word; it was felt.

"I should have known at once." Systlin growled. "Have I not done enough? Can I have no peace?"

A laugh, chiming and musical, but which shook the very bones. You were never made for peace.

And that was true. Systlin knew it, felt the truth of it in her soul. It was impossible to deny it, not before the Lady.

She felt an answering whisper in her soul, as the slumbering power of what had once been the Lord of Night and Void, the God of Endings, the Fallen One, God of Conflict, Lord of Justice and retribution, stirred within her.

Sister. The word was pointed, and almost mocking. Who denies still that you are.

"I saved my world. It needs me; you know that damned well. I don't want to be a god."

Want. This word was definitely mocking. There is no want, sister. There is 'must'. My brother failed his duty, and corrupted it. You hold it now. In time, you will realize. Goddess of War, Goddess of Justice, Goddess of Protection, Goddess of Night, Goddess of Death, Goddess of Endings and rebirth. I do your duties for now, sister...but not forever.

Systlin clenched her fists, and pointedly ignored this. "My people need me, damn you."

They are safe.

Systlin closed her eyes. "You'll not send me back until I finish here." It wasn't a question.

You could send yourself back whenever you wished, if you accepted your new place.

Systlin glared.

Another smile. So stubborn. No, I will not. Good luck, sister.

She woke.

Within her, the power of the god she'd killed stirred again, and was once more silent.

It was morning. She could see the sunlight under the door, and could hear the cheerful bustle of camp outside.

"Gods damn it all to the pits." She muttered.

The hardest thing about training the women of the Tuchuk in combat, Systlin soon found, was ingrained survival habits.

Her aunt, in the long-ago days when Systlin had been a lanky youth still growing into her arms and legs and new to a training sword, had always said that the hardest thing about training older students was fixing ingrained and detrimental habits.

Stellead had been referring to habits picked up from lesser arms masters...letting your shield drop, footwork that was less than flawless. Systlin wondered how her aunt would have dealt with this, as she interrupted a woman to correct her form and the former slave cringed and dropped at her feet, begging forgiveness.

"I am sorry!" The woman was almost tearful. Systlin had been angry since she came to this cursed place, and she felt that knot of red rage flare. "I am sorry, I forgot..."

"It's all right." Systlin squatted, propping her elbows on her thighs. "Hush. It's all right. Here now." She offered her hand, and the girl hesitantly took it. Systlin stood, drawing the girl back to her feet, and then bent, picked up the dropped wooden sword, and offered it back hilt first. The girl took it.

"Do you know," Systlin said, keeping her voice light and conversational, "how long it took me to become good with a sword?"

The woman blinked. "I...no, Ubara."

"I started training at thirteen." Systlin smiled fondly in memory. "I first killed a wraithen at nineteen. I first killed men in battle at twenty five. that was two and a half decades and three wars ago." She tossed her own wooden sword in the air; it spun precisely one turn before she caught it again by the hilt. "Training takes time, and practice. You will make mistakes. I will never fault you for them; you simply correct them and keep training."

The girl nodded slowly. Systlin had given the same speech to many girls over the last three weeks, but the habits learned to survive the men of this Pit of a planet went deep. It would be slow going yet; she knew that.

"Fifty?" The question was unexpected.

"Hm?"

"You are fifty?"

"Close enough, yes."

"Your world then has brews of youth as well?" The girl seemed curious.

Systlin blinked. "I...no. But we're descended from the Lady, the goddess and mother of all. We live long." She considered the woman before her; she appeared to be perhaps in her late twenties. "How old are you?"

"Oh. Sixty, I think? My masters have given me the brews of youth three times."

The yawning pit of cold fury in Systlin's soul howled.

"How many years of that," Systlin kept her voice carefully level. "Were you kept as property?"

"Since I was...oh, sixteen?"

The world went abruptly white before her eyes. The yawning spectre of the power she'd pulled from the soul of a slain god roared; goddess of justice, goddess of protection....

Fury, she was furious, and for a moment she knew, knew that it would be so, so easy, to rise on the wind and come down on the people who had done this. To become a storm, a furious reckoning, to scour this world clean in a night...

...No. No no NO. I will not. I have to teach them. They must take it themselves, for all I might lead them. Or it will all be for nothing...

By the time she fought it down and came back to herself she was on her knees, clutching the trampled grass with white knuckles. Sweat was soaking her, as it never did even if she fought all day. Her breath was coming short and sharp.

"Ubara!" The voices were panicked, and she realized dimly that there were at least a dozen women around her, patting at her cheeks, offering water.

She looked up, and saw worry, and fear, and as the god-soul inside her stirred, she saw more. She saw desperation, and so, so much pain, oceans of pain, seas of injustice, rivers of innocent blood spilled.

And as the women of the Tuchuk looked at her, worried, she saw deep in their eyes hope.

"Ubara?" It was Sabra , the brave girl, who'd taken quite well to a spear. "Ubara?"

"I'm all right." She wasn't, not quite; her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "I'm all right. Keep practicing."

The hovered until she got to her feet, but once it was determined that the Ubara was not about to die, they slowly went back to their drills.

Systlin moved a bit away, absently climbed the nearest wagon, and sat cross legged, looking out over the makeshift training grounds without really seeing.

She'd always been a protector. Since they'd been children, and her sister's dreams had driven little 'Sina to cry and scream in her sleep. Since her father had nurtured that, and taught her that a Queen's people were her children, that her sacred duty was to protect and serve them.

Since she'd torn the North back from the hands of the greedy and the corrupt, who'd sought to carve it apart for power and profit.

Since she'd faced a god, putting her own body and soul between her people and the Fallen Lord himself.

Since she'd faced a second goddess, and demanded the Lady return her daughter from beyond death.

It was who she was, in the end. She knew it in her bones, even as she looked down at these strange people in this strange world, and felt it, that what she must do.

"Pitting hells." She muttered this softly, and somewhere felt the Lady smile.

For some weeks now, the routine had been much the same; Kamchak and I, and the other men, were kept chained and carefully watched. Some men, after a measure of time should they demonstrate a contrite enough demeanor, had their chains removed and were allowed to move about the camp; they did so, casting their eyes aside from those of us who were still chained.

I watched one man brush a bosk one evening, and oil its hooves. A slave girl should do such work, and he was clumsy at it. A girl was watching, wearing the leather trousers that had become fashionable among the women. Her hair, which was very long, was braided up and pinned in a coil on the top of her head; it was unflattering, I thought. She corrected him, and showed him how it was done properly, and he meekly listened. She smiled at him, and I thought that in silks and with hair loose she must have been quite a beauty. He smiled back, a bit tentatively.

I snorted in disdain. There are always men that are so, those that are more akin to women than true men.

She heard, and turned on me. There was a fierceness in her eyes.

"See." She pointed at me, mocking. "He thinks himself better than you, Sarthak. He thinks himself too good for work about the camp, thinks it should be done only by women in chains." She laughed, and spit in my direction. "And yet he is still a prisoner in chains, while you are a free man. So who, then, is the better man?"

Sarthak grinned at me. He wore no scars, and scant weeks ago he had likely been unregarded utterly by the Tuchuk.

"You speak true words, Lena." He agreed, and turned his back on me. She gave another laugh, and she turned back to their task. I realized with some surprise that the looks Lena was favoring the unscarred young man with were warm.

"Disgraceful." Kamchak was chained to the other axle of the wagon, and he too was regarding the young man with distaste. "Have they made a slave of you already, boy?"

"He's a free man." Lena didn't look around. "All free men and women of able body must do their share of work. You shall too, should you ever be trusted and set free."

Kamchak spat again, and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel.

"It was a sad day," said the Ubar of the Tuchuk, "That that she-sleen came to the Tuchuk, Tarl Cabot."

"Yes." I agreed. I wondered still how many she had slain in that night, through sorcery. The pyres had burned for two days and nights.

We watched the girl teach the young man to grease the axles of the wagon. We had little else to do.

As the evening meal was brought, we were finally given some surprise to rouse us from the deadly tedium that had marked the weeks.

The she-sleen had a cloak now, made of red larl-hide. She wore it pinned at a jaunty angle, thrown back over one shoulder. She was wearing a leather vest over her strange scale armor today. She regarded us for a moment, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. I'd examined that weapon many times now, and I still could not place the make of it; it was no Gorean style I knew of, and the silver-blue of the blade was unlike any alloy I knew on Earth. It was somewhat shorter than most blades I had seen, perhaps thirty-six inches in all in total length. A great polished amethyst was set into the pommel, the most darkly violet stone I'd ever seen.

It was viciously sharp. I knew this.

"You." She said to me. The word was said in Gorean; she was learning quickly, it seemed, for all her strange magic did seem to translate for her. "You'll come with me." She nodded at the girl following her...I recognized her, I realized, it was the girl Dina I had seen around camp before, the slave reputed to be the best at the running game...and Dina brought out a ring of keys.

Dina's hair was braided, as was Systlin's. Dina wore leather trousers, as did Systlin. Dina wore a quiva, as Systlin wore her long dagger, and had stood and rested her hand on the hilt of the quiva in conscious imitation of the strange woman.

It seemed to be a fashion, I noted, that many of the freed slave girls and even many of the Tuchuk women had taken up.

I said nothing. It had not been a request, of course, and I had little choice. My leg was healing, but I was far from my top form.

My chains were let loose. I stood, with some difficulty, and Dina's help. She was, I noticed with some surprise, quite strong. There were muscles through her shoulders that I'd never before seen so developed on any Gorean woman, and her hands were tough.

I knew that well; my own hands were callused thus from the hilt of sword and the haft of lance. It was surprising that a slave girl had developed such in such a short time.

I was led to the great wagon that Systlin had claimed as her own; the wagon that I knew, now, was not the true wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks.

Inside, a meal of roast bosk had been laid ready for us. Systlin sat cross legged on the cushions; the maleness of the gesture still grated at my sensibilities. Seeing it preformed by one who might look quite well kneeling in silks was wrong, quite wrong. Dina helped me, somewhat ungracefully and with some pain, to sit.

Systlin did not touch the food at once. She was watching me, and the gaze was keen and direct. I said nothing, but examined her in return.

I am an observant man. It is one of my strengths. But I could gather little from her, save that which I had already deduced; she was strongly built, for a woman, all solid wiry muscle. Her hands were tough, those of a swordsman. Her gaze was intelligent, and I could not place her origin; the bone structure and shape of her eyes was subtly foreign, but not of any place I knew. She could have been beautiful, perhaps, were she arrayed instead in silk. She never, I noted, let her weapons stray far from her hand.

She was used, I thought, to fighting. Used even to being attacked in the most secure of surroundings. She had said before that many men had tried to kill her; what sort of creature was this that sat before me?

"You're wondering why I brought you here." She broke the silence. Her tone was crisp, and it was not a question.

I said nothing.

"The answer is because you are not of these people. I know that the Wagon Peoples usually slay outsiders. That means you are unusual, and I'm wagering it means you're quite skilled at arms." She examined me again, much as I'd examined her, and I saw her noting the callus of my hands. "Your accent is not like that of these people, as well. They say you are Koroban, wherever the fuck that is. I've heard that you have, apparently, traveled."

I said nothing.

"That makes you potentially useful." She informed me of this without a hint of emotion. "I know very little of this world, and while I'm learning, I suspect that you know more than most."

I had heard her say such things before. I am quite well acquainted with such matters, of course, being once of Earth. "Of this world?" I said at last.

"Of this world." A horrible humorless smile. "You know full well I'm not from here. This whole place is a nightmare and a travesty. You're lucky my aunt Stellead is not here; she’s less merciful than I. She'd have castrated the lot of your slavers and rapists, slow roasted the genitals, and fed them back to you a bite at a time. And to be honest, I did consider that."

I could not help but cringe at the thought.

"From what I have gathered," she continued, "No part of this world is not at the mercy of monsters who hold humans as livestock and use them as they please. It's that, I think, that I've been brought here to end. And you, Tarl Cabot, are going to give me information as I do it."

The shock of her words was immediate. "Sent? The priest-kings...."

The wave of a hand, dismissive. "I've heard of them. No. Gods, no. I don't care a whit for them. If they interfere I'll deal with them. No, it's a power higher than them that's sent me."

I blinked at her in shock. The priest-kings are feared and worshiped as gods on Gor, with reason. They are advanced beyond any human designs, and are exceptionally powerful. Yet I saw not a trace of fear in her.

"They are very powerful," I said. "And your powers may bring their wrath yet." I hoped it, of course. They can burn a man to ashes on a whim.

A laugh. Another cold, humorless laugh. "Maybe." She said. "But I've slain gods before. What are a few more? No. You are going to give me information, Tarl Cabot, on this world. And then I am going to conquer it. Every last damned corner of it."

I stared at her in horror, and she simply smiled in return.

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owl-with-a-pen · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt where Nia Falling asleep in one of brainys shirts? I love those special couple moments

- Oh anon, I'm sorry for making this sadder than it could have been. But thank you for the prompt! x

It was weird, not having Brainy there at night.

The daytime was always filled with so much action. If Nia wasn’t getting nagged by Andrea for a new angle on a story, she was out on patrol as Dreamer, or helping confront their latest enemy with the rest of the Super Friends. At that point, without fail, she would always fall into step with Brainy at her side, but with how busy they’d both been recently, it was still far too easy to find themselves apart from one another for whole days at a time.

The nights, though? That was another story entirely.

Since Leviathan’s ship, Nia couldn’t remember a single night that she hadn’t fallen asleep with Brainy laid right next to her.

With him there, things just felt better. She didn’t worry about getting woken by nightmares, because if she was, Brainy would be there to help her through them. She knew he didn’t sleep all that much, but even at times when she had pulled him from the small portion of the night he did reserve for proper rest, he never seemed to mind. If she was in any sort of distress, even if she tried to assure Brainy otherwise, he’d always see through her act. He never made her feel ashamed of the lack of control her nightmares exposed her to; instead, he was only eager to help her learn from every one. So, they’d talk it out if she had the energy to do so. If not, Brainy would assume his role as her makeshift pillow, letting her snuggle in close, falling back asleep to the gentle motions of his fingers entwined in her hair.

There were times Brainy would wake from nightmares, too, and although he was still cagey about a lot of them, their promise to be honest with one another had given him the confidence to confide some of his own insecurities over time.

In that way, the night was reserved for the one time they could each find total peace of mind. A reprieve from the stresses of their crazy lives. A chance to share the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Except, right now, she couldn’t. Right now, Brainy was out in space somewhere, travelling all the way to Argo to take Zor-El home, leaving his side of the bed unwelcomingly cold.

Nia knew Brainy was a confident flyer outside of spacetime co-ordination, but the wound of her Phantom nightmare was still fresh. Any time she thought of Brainy on a ship, she only remembered the breach in the Tower’s shields, could see the hole that had torn right through the ship’s hull, pulling Brainy out into the vacuum of space.

Her throat still felt raw from that memory. Every time she swallowed, she could taste it, the persistent burn of old tears agitating at the back of her mouth. The ache inside her chest where her disembodied screams had mangled every muscle.

And so, when Nia climbed into bed that night, tucking her arm beneath the pillows to get comfortable, she tried to imagine that Brainy was there at her side. She tried to picture what she might have told him if he had been.

Was she ready to tell him about her nightmare? He’d known something was up with her the second they’d been knocked out of their respective visions on the ship. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about the way he’d been checking in on her since then, but he’d yet to say it out loud. In her heart, Nia knew that Brainy was waiting for her to feel ready to share.

In all honestly, she wasn’t so sure she was. Losing Brainy like that had only reminded her of everything she’d lost for real. Though she’d been able to cling onto Brainy the moment her nightmare had dissolved, there was someone else that she’d never be able to hold that way again.

Nia didn’t want to look at the photo on her nightstand again, instead keeping herself turned adamantly away from it. She’d thought she was past this part, the sick and empty feeling in the pit of her stomach any time someone mentioned their own mom, the tightness in her lungs when she chanced a glance at her mother’s image. It had taken her months to build the courage to wade through the photos she had of her mother, and longer still to use one as her screen saver.

Up until recently, seeing that image had finally started to make her feel strong again.

But, then that trip to 2009 had happened, and god, maybe it had just been a recorded message, but it didn’t matter. It was a string of words that Nia hadn’t been able to find on any videos or VCR tapes. A voice that might not have been directed at her, but could’ve still been directed at anyone.

And that had been enough to break her all over again.

She knew Brainy wouldn’t judge her, but despite the words of wisdom and comfort he’d imparted on her over the last few months, she knew that he was still afraid he couldn’t give her enough, that the grossly distant relationship he had with his own mother might make him an ineffectual counsel. To Nia, though? She couldn't imagine going through this without him.

She didn’t think she had the energy to talk about it, anyway. All she really wanted was to feel Brainy’s arms around her, the heat of his life projectors thrumming through the fabric of his shirt, warming her chest.

Nia sighed dejectedly, snuggling further into the pillow, catching remnants of Brainy’s scent on the cotton.

Which was when her hand snagged against something familiar.

Nia’s lips twitched into a smile as she pulled out one of Brainy’s Bon Jovi shirts he’d made habit of sleeping in from beneath his pillow. Meticulously folded, of course, as though ready to display in a store. She nearly rolled her eyes.

She was pretty certain his shirt hadn’t been there that morning. In fact, she knew that Brainy wouldn’t normally keep his clothes anywhere but in the hamper or in her chest of drawers. Nia bit her lip, thinking back to earlier that evening when Brainy had gone into the bedroom, insisting he’d needed to ‘grab a few things’ before he left for the trip.

A warmth blossomed inside her chest. Oh, he’d definitely left it for her. A parting gift, in a way.

Maybe he hadn’t wanted to ask her until she was ready, but that didn’t mean he’d felt comfortable leaving her alone so soon after everything that had transpired.

Nia had certainly stolen Brainy’s shirts to sleep in before, and although that feeling of being wrapped inside a significantly oversized garment was always better than sleeping in her own PJ’s, this gesture felt far more personal than any before it.

Which was why Nia spent no time at all shrugging out of her own pyjama shirt in favour of Brainy’s. She tucked her knees into her chest the second she was comfortable, pulling the shirt down around as much of her as possible, breathing in the scent of his shampoo still ingrained in the fabric.

Nia curled tight into her side, bunching the shirt beneath her fingers, squeezing it tight.

Maybe Brainy couldn’t be with her tonight, but even faced with the darkest visions the Naltorian dreamscape had to offer, at least she had a piece of him that she could still hold onto.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #querl dox #brainy #supergirl 6x09 #my writing #my prompts #anon #i hope that the cute and sad balances out here #also i hope it's okay in general lol it's 2am and i'm riding out some vaccine side effects #hope you enjoy! i'm going to bed now 😅

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dent-de-leon · 3 years ago

Note

Mollymauk, 4, 5, 11, 13, 14, 15, 21, 22 :D (feel free to trim down if this is too many)

asksjkdf I'm sorry in advance because I got a little carried away so this got a little long, but thanks for the ask! I love any and every excuse to talk about Mollymauk...

4.) Best places to kiss on their body

I think Molly is actually very partial to forehead kisses! I feel like he uses that to ground Caleb in part because it’s something that’s always been very comforting to him--for instance, when Yasha finally gets to embrace him again, she also kisses his forehead. I think I remember Molly doing this for the twins back at the carnival too, so I feel like it’s a habit he picked up from the circus? Just the kind of little thing you do for someone to show you love them.

Aside from that, I think he would really appreciate a kiss on the neck, where most of his blood hunter scars--and that haunting red Eye--are. A bit of loving tenderness to soothe the pain.

5.) Guilty pleasures

Oh I love this pick for Molly cause boY does he have a lot of these!! He builds a life off joy and hedonism, so he’s got this in spades. I forget where, but I’ve definitely seen someone theorize before that the reason base pleasures are so appealing to Molly is because he started out just feeling like an “Empty” body, so anything that’s very stimulating on a physical level is very grounding for him? I really like the idea of that. I think wanting to feel like he was really “alive” and “whole” is part of why he gravitated towards decadence and indulgence, anything that made his heart beat faster.

The episode where we get the famous “Long may I reign” scene definitely covers a lot of his favorite indulgences. But as much as he loves being spoiled, I think he also likes making sure the people he cares about are pampered like royalty too. Taliesin mentioned before that the reason Molly likes gold so much is because he’s got this very childish perception that money is Good because you can use it to get Nice Things that make other people Happy. Since Molly’s been alive for only two years, I feel like a lot of his guilty pleasures actually stem from this sort of sentiment. The fact that he’s still so young and everything in the world is very new and exciting and he just wants to be as happy as possible--and make his loved ones happy too. It’s a very endearingly innocent sort of view.

11.) Bad or petty habits

Hmmm I feel like the one thing that makes Molly the pettiest is when someone tries to tell him his tarot readings are bullshit lmao. Even if he mostly thinks so himself, he adamantly refuses to hear it from anyone else.

13.) What gets them flustered

I think whenever someone is being very genuine and having a real heart to heart with him. Molly is perfectly at ease talking bullshit or telling pretty lies. He’s also very comfortable being very sincere and compassionate when it comes to comforting others, like the little ways he’s always trying to cheer up Jester, the forehead kiss for Caleb, promising Fjord the Nein won’t let him die, bringing Yasha a four-leaf-clover with the wish that one day she’ll feel happier.

But whenever people are openly affectionate and trying to have an honest conversation with him? I think that makes him tense up and panic a bit. He’s not good with letting himself be vulnerable, dropping his showman’s performance. We actually see a lot of this when Molly is resurrected and starts going by Kingsley. He knows he has feelings for the Nein, but he’s definitely a little nervous and overwhelmed when he confronts that.

Several times, Caleb assures King he’s still welcome in the Nein, and that always makes Kingsley either defensive or very quiet, keeps catching him off-guard. “Well for starters, you are with friends.” “Perhaps this is your first time meeting us. It's our second time...Stick with us.” “We have a habit of taking in strays.” “This is the newest member of the band.” Being accepted just like that, loved by all the Nein so unconditionally, just like that? I think it leaves him a little shaken, because he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything to earn it. Like he doesn’t deserve to be this missed and wanted and loved.

14.) Ingrained habits/forces of habit

I think there are some nights where he keeps looking over his shoulder and feels like he’s being watched--when the Eyes of Nine start to itch and burn, when it feels like something’s crawling under his skin--and he looks at the mirror and swears he sees a face that looks just the same but somehow isn’t his. And for a while after he first wakes--and again when he’s resurrected--I think there are still moments when he’s scared or panicked and he’ll just keep repeating Empty over and over.

I also really like how Taliesin used to just pick a random card from his tarot deck to decide what Molly should do. I can definitely see Mollymauk doing something similar--just pulling a random card from his deck on a whim, trusting it’ll lead him in the right direction.

15.) What it takes to make them cry

I feel like Molly rarely cries, mainly because he hates feeling sorry for himself or ruminating on any bad memories. He’s kinda funny that way; he refuses to let himself be unhappy, especially when he feels like he’s always living on borrowed time. The one thing I can see really making him break down is seeing his loved ones hurting--he literally spits at the face of his own death, but I think he’s really terrified of losing someone else.

If there’s one scene where I can really see Molly crying, it’s when Jester falls in that final battle. When Caleb makes this desperate plea that breaks through to Molly for a single heart-wrenching moment, “You’re killing her, you’re killing her! You love her. You’re killing her!” The absolute horror of that shakes Lucien’s control for just a moment, and Molly claws at his own face in retaliation. You can just tell how much his heart is breaking just then, how scared he is, how much he must hate himself. I could definitely imagine Molly shedding a few tears right then, if he had enough control of the body to do it.

Having to watch Lucien use his body to kill Jester and Caleb, the amount of pain Lucien caused Yasha and all the others, the nightmares of his death and black chains that forever haunt him after--I think those are the kinds of things that would bring Molly to tears in his lowest moments. And when he finally reads Beau’s book and finds out about how Yasha suffered a similar fate under Obann? Yeah, I think he’d get choked up over that too.

21.) Turning points in their life

Oh, there’s so many interesting twists and turns Molly’s life takes in just a few short years. Undoubtably, I think every life, death, and rebirth left the biggest impact. The fact that he woke all alone that first time--and then found himself surrounded by so many loved ones a lifetime later--I think that had a profound impact on his sense of self worth and his attachment to others.

That first life, Molly convinces himself that he must have been someone awful before, to have been left alone in an unmarked grave on the side of the road. With no one who missed or mourned him. He believes he somehow deserves that fate. And when he’s taken in by the circus? Taliesin mentions he never spends more than 24 hours alone. He’s...very lonely, I think. Someone who can’t bear to be isolated again. So when he wakes up again to a whole family of people who love him? Who welcome him wholeheartedly and insist they’ll love him unconditionally, no matter who he is? It’s beautiful, and it means the world to someone like Mollymauk/Kingsley. “I’m looking forward to the future. And I hope to deserve to have woken up surrounded by such people.”

Molly’s also mentioned that it was the Moonweaver who helped guide him when he first woke, who gave him comfort in having a new start in life. “Can you imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything about anything that had happened to you so far?...It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing--It’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person. The Moonweaver--” However he came to worship the Moonweaver, I think it was definitely one of the most formative experiences in all his lives. I also like to headcanon the woman in a red coat Molly/King met in his dream was another visit from the Moonweaver, and she was either trying to return his memories or offer him another chance at a fresh start.

22.) People who’ve influenced them greatly

Oh, pre-campaign I think Molly modeled a lot of his behaviors and mannerisms after others in the circus, especially Gustav. He’s the one who named Mollymauk and presumably the one who spent the most time raising him and caring for him in that Empty period.

Molly has his own set of morals he feels very strongly about, and it’s entirely learned from the circus, “Things came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.” “I may be a liar, but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work and I believe in doing a good turn...I stayed with that circus for two years, and I know how people treat each other. It’s important.” When Molly is resurrected again, I think all of the Mighty Nein have very much the same effect on him.

#i just...love this little tief a whole lot

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bbygenya · 4 years ago

Text

aftermath 🔥

fandom: demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba

pairing: kyoujurou x reader

ratings: g for g(ood lord what have I written)eneral audiences

warnings: feelings :)

word count: 1604

summary: just some overindulgent fluff with kyoujurou after muzan got his ass beat :)

a/n: i’m a rengoku simp (are you really surprised?) honestly I love this man with my whole chest

plus he still be alive in my heart so he’s alive after the big boss battle 😤

Your eyes trace his form as he swings the wooden sword almost expertly. Training even on an off day—nothing unusual from the Flame Pillar himself. You hope to one day be as strong as him, even though you can barely keep up with him now as it is. It’s entirely too peaceful nowadays, yet there’s still a few threats to be eliminated. The big fight had left the Pillars battered and bruised, missing a few pieces of themself in the process. You’re thankful though; thankful that Kyoujurou prevailed with minor injuries—other than losing his eye and being left with a weaker respiratory system from the wound Akaza had blessed him with.

He was still strong, still training as if the demon lord was about to walk up the walkway of the Rengoku estate.

Yet, you can’t will yourself to convince him to stop. Training had been ingrained in him for so long, that it would probably take a while before he’s ready to lay down his sword. You think it shouldn’t be much longer; the modern era is quickly catching up with the world around you, so you’re almost sure it won’t be much longer then.

“Is big brother still practicing?” Senjurou comes over then, sitting beside you to watch the other man swing his sword. You lean back on your hands, nodding.

“Mhm. Old habits die hard, so I can see why,” you explain with the ghost of a smile at your lips. Senjurou nods, understanding. It’s truly going to take a while before he relaxes into the new normal. Shifting, you adjust yourself. Wincing from the soreness of your limbs as you adjust your casted leg to where it’s a bit more comfortable. In the final battle, your leg had been mangled to the point where you were sure you’d lose it, yet Shinobu and the girls at the Butterfly Mansion were sure to patch you right up and get you in the process of healing. Noticing your mild discomfort, the boy makes a noise, turning to you.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He questions, concerned. You smile, shaking your head at him.

“It’s fine, Senjurou, really. Just adjusting to get a bit more comfortable,” you assure him. You try to mask the discomfort in your expression as best you can, wanting to shield the boy from having to deal with it, deal with you, but like his brother he’s stupidly perceptive in a way that makes you want to puff your cheeks out and huff childishly. Damn these Rengoku brothers.

The look in his eyes tells you he doesn’t believe you, but he does nod. “Maybe you need a pillow for your leg then?” he suggests. You can’t deny him, he looks so determined!, so you sigh and smile at him.

“Sure. Mind fetching one for me?”

The boy’s eyes brighten as he bobs his head in a nod, shifting to stand.

“Okay! Be right back!” he hurries off to fetch said pillow, and for a moment you watch him. Wondering what it’s like to be normal. You’ve been training to be a demon slayer since you were a preteen and now you wonder what life would’ve been like had you not been one? Not that Senjurou had it easier, but he hasn’t seen the same things you’ve seen. He hasn’t had to watch comrades get mauled and devoured by demons. He’s lucky he won’t ever have to, either.

“You know, it’s not good to lie to children,”

Kyoujurou’s voice startles you, causing you to jump a little (wasn’t he just practicing?) and the surprise you show makes him chuckle. Moving to sit beside you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple gently.

“That’s not very nice [y/n],” he chides playfully, reaching for the water pouch he’d brought with him at the beginning of this little training session. Usually, he practices in the dojo, but today he’d decided to entertain you in the front yard. How sweet of him. You roll your eyes playfully at him, unable to not smile in his presence, then you allow your head to rest gently on his shoulder. His arm was still healing from the Akaza fight as well, and he’d regretfully had to sit the main boss battle out. He hadn’t been too happy about it, but he knew he would’ve been more of a crutch than a help. Though it had taken place months after the Infinity Train incident, the extent of his injuries kept him out for quite a while. And honestly, you wonder if that’s what drives him to train even though there’s no need to anymore.

Honestly, from what you’ve heard, he’s not the only pillar who still trains daily.

“I’m sorry, I’ll apologize,” you hum, though you know it won’t do much good. Senjurou knew you were lying and simply played along. For a moment you sigh, basking in the warmth of the moment. Your mind isn’t on demons, or fighting. Moreso on your boyfriend, and finally being able to settle down and start a family with him. It’s nice to pretend as if you two were normal from the get go, but your wounds say otherwise. As do the nightmares that plague you both. It’s going to take a while for your mentalities to settle enough to try to figure out what “normal” is, but you’re sure it won’t be too hard.

“I’m back!” Senjurou joins you two, pillow in hand as he moves to set it gently underneath your wrapped leg. Patting it for good measure but sits on the other side of you, hands in his lap as he watches both you and Kyoujurou and smiles happily. He’s thankful that his brother is alive, and is thankful that you’re here with them as well and it shows.

“Thank you Senjurou, that feels a lot better,” it really does; the softness of the pillow is very welcomed. Beside you, Kyoujurou shifts a little to get comfortable, glancing over at his brother for a moment and seems to get an idea.

“Senjurou! Could you go grab those snacks Kanroji-san sent us?” he questions. “I would go, but I’m a bit worn out from training,” he admits sheepishly, cheeks a little pink. It frustrates him to know that his stamina isn’t the same; at the cost of his life he’d ben injured in such a way that had really impacted him in such a way that in the first few months it was hard. It was so hard, but he’s slowly adjusting to the changes. You’re quite the help with that, and his motivation to keep going at it. Though he’d just gotten back from fetching the pillow, at the mention of snacks, he perks.

“Okay! I’ll be right back!” he shoots up and jogs off, causing both you and Kyoujurou to laugh gently. How cute—he’s just like Kyoujurou sometimes, you think to yourself.

An arm wraps around your waist and you lean into it, allowing yourself to be gently pulled closer. Kyoujurou tips his head to brush his nose against the crown of your head, sighing as he buries himself into the sweet scent of your [scent] hair, finding comfort in it. He too is surprised he’s still alive, but thanks the gods everyday they allowed him to continue living with you, happily. You don’t mind this and in fact you turn a little, carefully of your leg, to snuggle into his side, which doesn’t help how he nearly pulls you into his lap, simply wanting to hold you and have you close to him.

“I know I haven’t really talked about it, but when I fought that demon on the train, I was so scared,” he says, voice soft for once. He very rarely speaks softly—he’s such a loud man sometimes you find yourself wanting to smack your hand over his pretty mouth—so when he does lower his voice like this, you’re inclined to listen. “I was scared I’d never see you again, never see my father or Senjurou either. I really thought,” he sighs softly, tightening his hold on you. “I really thought when I saw my mother that it was over. I wanted to go with her but. . .at the same time, I wanted to stay here with you all as well. It was really hard, debating over where I should go, but she’s the one who told me that my time here wasn’t finished,” you know this yourself. When they’d gotten to Kyoujurou, he’d bled out so much that he needed multiple blood transfusions. He was in a coma for weeks, and you’re sure at one point he did die. And hearing this confirms it. Your eyes water thinking of how lonely you would’ve been had he not here, of how quiet the Rengoku estate would be had his loud laughter ceased to fill the halls. It would’ve been so hard to move on without him, so you’re very thankful his mother helped him come back to you. He must sense you’re on the verge of tears, because he pulls back to look down at you, tilting your chin up so that you’re both looking each other in the eye.

“Ah, darling please don’t cry,” he sounds almost pained to know that you’re upset—or that you seem upset. The tears fall, but he’s quick to wipe them away. You sniffle, feeling pitiful for a moment.

“Sorry. I’m just really happy you came back,” you say, voice cracking. He finds himself smiling despite the fact that you’re crying, and ducks down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Me too.”

-x

#demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #kny fanfic #kny fanfiction #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny #rengoku kyoujurou #kyokurou rengoku #rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #yall im crying #this wasn't supposed to be this SAD

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stellocchia · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s an analysis of the “Tommy’s Plan To Kill Dream” stream (part 2)

Continuation of this here (though it really isn’t needed to read that one to read this as I will be recapping a bit as I go): https://stellocchia.tumblr.com/post/645995202162671616/heres-an-analysis-of-the-tommys-plan-to-kill

This is the less intense part of the stream. They already talked about their plans to kill Dream (well, Tommy’s plan that Tubbo is VERY reluctant about and Ranboo agrees with). We’re moving into the gathering resources for the surveilance post part now.

As always moving forward I’ll be soley talking about the characters and, for the dialogue, this are the respective colors: Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Ghostbur.

Analysis under the cut as always

So let’s start off with the obvious: I absolutely love how protective Tubbo and Ranboo are of Tommy, I’m glad he has people who actually care in his life right now. We have various examples of this throughout the stream, but the first one is Tommy seeing a creeper, backing off immediatly (because of his hightened fear of pain, aslo known as algophobia apparently) and them immediately destroying the threat. Of course this is also because they don’t want Snowchester blown up, but it’s still sweet nonetheless.

He also opens up about his algophobia right after to them and asks for some armour, which Tubbo actually provides.

“You’re wearing Dream’s armour, aren’t you Tubbo?” “Yeah” “Okay, I wouldn’t- I genuinely would advice not. Anything that that man’s fucking been too near you don’t wanna be using” Tommy’s fear of Dream by now is just all encompassing. It is also quite peculiar that he would say this while still using Dream’s trident (right? It’s still his right?), though that could simply be because he puts himself in the category of “things that have been too near Dream” by now and really can’t be affected more then he already has been, though this is just a theory.

Same thing as with the creeper happens with a skeleton a couple minutes later.

“What happened? Holy crap” “Tubbo he beat me to death, he punched me to death” Bee duo starting to realize how serious Tommy’s situation is right after the scheleton encounter because Tommy was just genuinely panicking.

“Pain it feels so much more real now, ‘cause I know what’s on the other side” “Surely doesn’t that give closure?” “No... no it gives quite the opposite Tubbo” And what a good choice that was narratively speaking! If death did give closure as us and the characters in the story themselves expected, with resurrection it would be meaningless. This way though, death has just as much narrative weight as if resurrection wasn’t there, which is what you want in a story.

“On a side note for you two: Sam Nook great guy! Really lovely guy! Awesamdude is a bastard and does not deserve to be running that prison. If he let me die he failed his job” We can see that Tommy’s perception of the warden’s duty is strickingly different from Sam’s. To Tommy the top priority should be protecting others from Dream (even if it means compromising the security of the prison), while to Sam the top priority is keeping Dream locked up.

“My therapy update!” We all knew I had to include this one. It’s actually really great because:

1) Him actually reacheing out to Puffy to get therapy means that he actually recognises that he needs help and is willing to ask for it, which is the first step towards healing

2) Him acting so happy about it is actually such a good message for the younger viewers to see that therapy is nothing to be afraid of and it’s not taboo

One more thing we had him wanting to remove his own statues as they’re a grim reminder of his death in a scene that is very similar to Tubbo on the 16th asking to remove the decorations of the day of his execution.

“I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to... try and kill Dream. I don’t know how canon lives work for you anymore, but I only got one left” As I pointed out in the other post the 2 main reasons why Tubbo is reluctant about the plan are that he’s on his last life and that he managed to build a life for himself with Snowchester and Ranboo that he doesn’t wanna loose.

“Listen guys, I’ve experienced death now, it doesn’t matter how many lives I have left now, I’m NOT willing to go through that again” “Yeah that makes sense actually, that makes sense” This is an interesting question though of how many lives he re-acquired. We know Jack came back with 3 when he did it, but then again, normal rules don’t seem to apply to Jack Manifold. Also I wanted to include Ranboo’s quote there just because he’s literally been nothing but supportive and I love him for it.

Also all 3 teens decide at once that ignoring the Egg will most definitely make the problem go away, because that has always worked in the past of course! (Also, honestly, good for them. Let the adults take care of something for once!)

“I’m not very god at smal- that’s not true” “Mhmm” “So eh... you guys heard The News?” “The news about what?” “The news about...?” “You know... what-what’s been happening...” “What’s been happening?” “About- about umm... George” “About George? What happened with the Gogmeinster?” “Oh yeah, he got banned! Twice” “No no, he... he grew a third ear” “Really? Oh man!” “Oh yeah! I’ve seen a photo of that on instagram!” So, aside from this being so funny, the reason I’m highlighting it is because if there is one thing Tommy never struggled with in the past it was small talk. He could literally start blabbering with anyone about anything, no matter how dumb, with absolute confidence. Now he’s struggling with everything (both here and later in the Nether we have similar scenes for it). He is insecure about everything he says and socializing seems much harder for him. Regardless both Tubbo and Ranboo still go along with everything he says with absolute confidence, which seems to help him quite a bit. Considering that his biggest desire seems to be to be treated the same as he was before having them not pointing out his obvious insecurity (while still very obviously noticing it) is probably quite a big thing for him.

“Why are Punz’s eyes red?” “Why? Oh- Where is Punz?” “Oh, that might mean we have to kill him, he might kill us on sight” “Yeah, he might try to kill you. Where are you Tommy by any me- where are you?” “Yeah, stay away from him” “No I can fucking take him man!” “No because you get scared of damage...” “Tommy... yeah” “I don’t get scared of damage!” “That’s not true” “Tommy where are you?” I loved this scene so much! Tommy didn’t actually even see Punz here, he only saw his face on the players tab, but the other two were immediately on the defensive. Also this is what I mean when I say that it’s not that they don’t acknowledge Tommy’s situation, they’re just trying to give him some normalcy, because, as soon as he is in any actual or perceived danger they’re immediately in high alert.

“You’re like a living ghost” “I think that’s just called a human Tubbo” “You’re like a human” “That’s just called someone who is alive” “You’re treating me differently” So two things here:

1) Tubbo still has a lot of confusion towards the whole revival process an that’s what he was trying to express. Ranboo was not particularly happy with his choice of words though and kinda got the defensive tone again

2) Tommy shuts down very fast any time any kind of change is mentioned. In this case the change being Tubbo’s perception of him.

That said they manage to recover the situation really fast with Ranboo making a comparison between Tommy and Jesus (they’re teenagers, what can I say?)

“Tubbo I feel like we’ve grown less close while I’ve been in prison and dead” “That’s ‘cause you’ve been gone for such a long time...” “Do you like me less?” “Nope!” “Well it feels like you do” “Well, that’s all in your head then!” “No” “Maybe you superpower is immagination” “Maybe my superpower is anxiety” Well Tommy, do my job for me, will you? But yes, these kind of thoughts (fretting about what others, especially your friends or family think of you) is extremely common for individuals suffering from anxiety disorders. Also what Tubbo did here was really important, even if it is the bare minimum, he still provided the ressurance his friend needed and that’s good of him. Also, while Tommy’s dependence on Tubbo does shine through quite a bit during this stream Tubbo does continuosly set up healthy boundaries for them (introducing and keeping firm on his relationship with Ranboo and admitting that they did grow apart a bit and he is still confused about Tommy for example), which is extremely good. Ranboo is also presenting himself as a viable option for emotional support, which will actually be good for Tommy in the future as this would mean breaking out of the habit that was ingrained in him of relying on one single person every time.

“I’m not afraid of anything! The only thing I’m afraid of is, you know, waking up in the morning and...” “The- the thing your afraid of is waking up in the- are you alright? Are you- are you alright man? Are you good?” That’s concerning! But, again, very fitting with his newfound extreme anxiety he seems to be experiencing. Also ConcernedBoo, he just care about his friends and is worried. Pretty sure Tommy fits together with Michael and Tubbo in the circle of people he’s willing to protect.

Also, in case people were wondering, Ghostbur wasn’t handing out sugar because he was a fake Ghostbur, but just because Ranboo gave it to him and it was the only thing he had. Same goes for Tommy calling Ghostbur “Wilbur” and acting as if he was Alivebur and Ghostbur only correcting him after quite a while: it’s not because he’s fake, it’s because he gave permission to Tommy specifically to do so before. As I mentioned in the other post their relationship is complicated, but Ghostbur very much cares for Tommy a whole lot and he came back specifically because he heard Tommy needed help again, it’s not so weird he’d allow him to do stuff he doesn’t allow for others.

“Last time I spoke to you was like a few days ago...” Now, as some people pointed out this could simply be Ghostbur memory being sort of foggy and him not realizing how much time passed. But the OTHER theory is that he remembers talking to Phantommy (which we know happened thanks to Quackity’s lore, as they visited Glatt’s gym together). Honestly both are plausible (if the first one was true then meeting Phantommy may have simply made him upset and he could have forgotten about it, or perhaps he could have just forgotten that Tommy was dead).

“Ghostbur do you want him (Wilbur) to come back? Because I- I don’t. I don’t think that I do ever” “It’s... I... umm, hm. The-the world needs structure and order and he- he was good at that. He did that-” “No. The world needs less villains and he was a villain if I’ve ever seen one” “But a- a villain is just- is- sometimes the line’s a little blurry. You could say a little blurry, a tiny bit, it’s like a- a villain it’s just a hero you haven’t convinced yet” Now, as much as I love Ghostbur he’s half wrong here. Let me explain:

Simply put not all bad people can be redeemed for one thing (for example someone like Dream could never be redeemed because he hurt so many people in such horrible ways without ever regretting it), and secondly describing a villain as a “hero YOU HAVEN’T CONVINCED yet” puts the responsability of that persnon’s actions on their victims. As a matter of fact it’s most definitely NOT up to the ones who’ve been hurt to reabilitate the ones who hurt them (which is why Sam managing the prison now is considerable a conflict of interests). They shouldn’t even be forced to forgive that person if the person DOES change for the better. And here’s the crux of the issue: Wilbur hurt a LOT of people. He hurt Tubbo, he hurt Niki, he hurt Fundy, he hurt everyone who joined Pogtopia. And more then anything else he hurt Tommy. He was abusive and manipulative towards him and Tommy has every right to never forgive him. He has every right to be scared of him and regard him purely as a villain, because that’s what he was for him towards the end of his life.

Ghostbur bringing him back in the hopes that he’s changed at all just means that, once again, the responsability of his possible reabilitation will be left entirely on the shoulders of the teens of the server and the same goes for if there is NO reabilitation. The destruction will, once more, be left for them to deal with. Tommy specifically will have one more person who abused him to deal with. Wether Wilbur will or will not ally himself with Dream doesn’t matter, because he was still a destructive individual on his own (despite of course being that way because of his own mental spiral, but that just makes him more sympathetic, it doesn’t justify his actions nor make them any less hurtful for those around him).

Also Wilbur’s been dead for 10-12 years in Limbo time, I can’t imagine that doing wonders for his mental state...

There is a scene after that conversation where Tommy was talking about how being dead was, Tubbo asked a question about it and Tommy got upset. Of course the others got confused about his reactions since ha was already talking about, so, to clarify: the probable reason why anyone (aside from Ghostbur apparently) asking him questions about it upsets him is probably because of Dream. He mentioned multiple times now that Dream treating his death as a science experiment when he revived him was extremely traumatic for him. He hates the idea of being “just science” to the people around him. Ghostbur seem to be an exception to this, but that may be because Tommy seems predisposed to just trust Ghostbur more from an emotonal stand-point (perhaps because he reminds him of how Wilbur used to be before he spiraled).

“I love monster energy” “Monster energy is kind of scary...” “Mhm, it’s for monsters...” Man the very low-key constant self-deprecation sure it’s kinda worrying... I really do hope that someone will help him with his very obvious sef-esteem issues at some point.

“He (Wilbur) spent a lot of time around a bad guy. He spent around a decade, you said, around Schlatt and Schlatt- Schlatt’s the bed guy, Right?” “I don’t think Schlatt’s the only bad guy” “Him and Eret are the bad guys, right?” Once again Ghostbur’s view of things is very naive and still very much stuck in the past. It’s been so long now since Eret betrayal, and they tried to redeem themselves since. Meanwhile it’s also been months since Schlatt died, and, even back when he was alive, he was far from being the only arguably bad person, Wilbur being right there along with him if we consider what his actions caused. And now we have Dream and the Egg, we have Quackity indulging in torture, we have the syndacate having a gestapo arc, we have Jack back on his goal of killing a teen. We can be sympathetic toward many of this people, but this doesn’t change the fact that they hurt others a lot or that their objectives or actions are objectively morally wrong in some cases. By now it’s honestly pretty hard to draw the line of who IS and ISN’T a bad guy.

“Cobble is GOOD, people don’t like it when I use cobble though...” Again, the usual self confidence is completely lacking. This is worse then post exile: back then he still had the full confidence to build an ugly cbblestone tower on Techno’s front lawn, now even using a bit of cobblestone makes him self-concious.

Also apparently Sam instructed Sam Nook to keep Tommy specifically away from the prison for his own safety. Man’s still looking after him even if he probably won’t manage to do it directly for a while (at least until Tommy forgives him, if he does).

That’s pretty much it! It’s everything I’d consider important that I could find in the stream!

@mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #ranboo #ghostbur #tw abuse #tw manipulation #c!wilbur critical #I guess?#analysis #dream smp #/rp #my post #long post #though long ass post would fit better #I seriously just made a two parter on a block man roleplay huh?#god what is my life...

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