#actually wrote that long ago but didn't post it

[niceonejames7]

kisses and chicken noodle soup.

remus lupin x reader

words: 914

genre: fluff, sickfic

content: remus comes home to find your passed out on the couch, so he thinks of the best quick aid he can, kisses and chicken noodle soup.

a/n: im writing too many things at once and haven't finished anything that I actually wanted to post. so you get this draft (which kinda sucks) that I wrote a while ago(I think I've posted this before idk) this is all very self indulgent.

...

It had been a long day, too long for your liking. Your feet feel like they don't want to move, at all as you step inside the house. But sadness takes over you as you realise no one's home. You had been wishing that Remus would be home, so you could crash into his arms and fall asleep, but the house is empty. 

Tears prick your eyes because your head hurts too much, and there is no food at home but you power through and make yourself some instant noodles to absolve your hunger. This wasn't going to fill your stomach, but you had no energy left to make anything else. 

As you eat the noodles and watch the show ongoing on tv, the fatigue takes over you and you feel your eyes drooping. You adjust your position and as soon as your head hits the pillow, you're out.

… 

Remus comes home to find the door unlocked. A panic set in his stomach and he rushed inside, only to find you sprawled out on the couch, your arms and one leg dangling. He chuckles and sets his bag on the floor to fix your posture.

The top of your nose was already red, your forehead warm to touch. Remus' throat made a cooing sound he didn't think he was capable of making as he muttered to himself, "Poor baby."

His hand caressed your cheek and your hair as he slowly started to wake you up. 

"Dovey, c'mon, wake up."

You could hear a muffled voice and your hands instinctively reached for him, searching his face. Your hands found the nape of his neck, your thumb across his cheeks and you had wanted to smile but a small frown formed on your lips, "Hi, baby." 

Remus chuckles and wraps his hands around yours and shakes your arm once more, "Bub, if you don't wake up you're going to get cold soup."

The promise of soup was enough to open your eyes, but you immediately squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light.

"Oh I'm sorry," he muttered apologetically and scrambled to turn the lights off and switch on the lamp nearby, all the while his hands never left yours.

As he tugged on your arms to get you to open your eyes, it only deepened your frown, 

"What happened? Does something hurt?" Remus asks, his eyes searching for a sign.

"You're blurry." You say in a timid voice and a grin breaks out on Remus' face, and he laughs before leaning into your lips, saying, "You're cute when you're sick." 

You raise your intertwined hands to your face as he gets closer, the frown on your face never leaving, "No, you'll get sick."

At this Remus releases his grip and takes your face in his hands, and kisses your jaw, then proceeds up to your cheeks, a peck on your nose then finally a sweet kiss to your lips.

"I'm supernatural, your germs don't bother me." It was an excuse to kiss you, as if he would leave any chance to do so. And also, one kiss doesn't hurt anybody, Remus decided.

Remus especially didn't regret his actions when a smile, however small, finally bloomed on your face, smoothing out your frown, and he kissed your nose again.

After taking a few seconds to admire you, Remus snapped back to himself and patted your cheek softly to wake you up, "C'mon, I made you chicken noodle soup."

You slowly got up from your horizontal position, which was an awful reminder of how much your body and head hurt. You groaned as your stretched out your limbs, pressing your fingers to your head, trying to relieve your headache.

Remus ran his fingers through your hair, a comforting motion over all the pain in your body. It always made you feel a little bit guilty, when you complained about being sick or being in pain. When Remus goes through so much, and you can't tolerate a headache.

"I'm sorry you have to put up with me," You say timidly, your voice a little hoarse, "One headache is enough to take me down."

This caused Remus to frown, "First of all, you have a fever."

He continues in a stern voice, "No, look at me. You're sick and in pain, I would never think of taking care of you 'putting up with you'. Do you understand?"

A smile again adorned your face, and Remus felt like he had achieved something, a personal victory.  

You nod and he returns your smile, which lights up his face and all you want to do is pepper his face with kisses.

He takes the bowl of soup in his hands, and sits down on the couch, facing you after turning on the TV. He knew he was in for either a sitcom re-watch or a sappy romantic movie, not that he was complaining. 

After you took the last spoon of soup Remus gave you, and made you take your medicines, you immediately cuddled up to him, giving him no time to adjust and wrapping yourself around him. He smelt nice, and so soft. The jumper he had put on was unbelievably soft. 

You could already feel yourself falling asleep as you cozied up in his arms and his lips kissed your forehead. 

"I love you." You say, like a whisper fading away in the air, but Remus doesn't fail to catch and whisper it back to you,

"I love you too." 

....

another thing! can't believe my poly!marauders fic caught on so much traction! thanks guys, honestly inspired me too much and now I have too much to do

[burningcheese-merchant]

"I'm Sorry" - BurningCheese Short #9

Gonna be traveling somewhere soon, probably won't be back here for a few days. Wanted to leave you all with a story before I go. (I wrote it sometime ago, I've just been waiting for a good time to drop it. I guess now will do haha)

Plan on answering asks and posting BurningCheese kids when I get back (I have almost 100 asks in my inbox and I feel really bad for leaving them there. I'm genuinely sorry to you all, I actually am reading what you send me, I promise I won't leave you hanging forever. I answered a couple today and I'll keep it up soon). In the meantime, eat this short story where we see our favorite couple take an important step together, and Burning Spice take an important step himself

"I'm sorry."

Golden Cheese blinked. "I... Pardon?"

"I'm sorry," Burning Spice said again.

"You're sorry?" she echoed. "Sorry for... what?"

He paused for a long while before he answered. "For Beast-Yeast."

"For Beast-Yeast?" Slowly, she turned to face him, eyeing him critically. "And where is this coming from, exactly?"

"Why does it matter?" Burning Spice asked, keeping his gaze trained on the bustling city far below. "I am sorry. That is all I have to say."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And... what? You think that means anything? You think one, single apology will change the past? You think it's enough to atone for all of your heinous crimes?"

"No."

"Then what audacity is this? Why even say it?"

"Because I want to," he said. "It's as simple as that."

Another long pause, longer than the last, came and went before Golden Cheese spoke up again. "Why should I even believe you when you say such words?" she asked. "What reason do I have to think you're being sincere?"

"Someone such as I saying it at all ought to be reason enough. You think I'd ever utter something so soft and pathetic to anyone else, for any reason? Even under penalty of death?"

"...Hmph."

A third pause came - shorter than the first two, because Golden Cheese couldn't bring herself to wait any longer than that.

"And what makes you think I forgive you? Or that I would ever even consider doing so?"

"You allowed me into your kingdom," he said, still refusing to look at her. "Into your palace, even. Here we stand together, watching your subjects from afar. You snuck me in so no one would see or notice me. Perhaps you don't forgive me at all... but you've let go enough that you've allowed yourself to do this much. Haven't you?"

"I..."

The fourth pause made itself known, hanging over the two of them as they stared down into the busy streets of the Golden Cheese Kingdom. It showed itself out when, at last, Burning Spice turned to look at Golden Cheese.

"I'm sorry," he told her one more time. His voice was soft. Quiet. In his eyes and on his face were emotions that only he himself would know how to read.

Golden Cheese looked right back at him, her eyebrows knit and mouth set in a slight frown. She said nothing, instead only nodding slowly, tentatively - unsure of how to acknowledge him, but willing to do so nevertheless.

When the fifth pause came, it weighed down on them both terribly, though who felt its burden worse was hard to tell. The silence was thick, tense, awkward. Granting cover to all the words Golden Cheese couldn't bring herself to say. Making up for all the words Burning Spice didn't have left to give.

Everlasting, like the city bathed in gold and neon lights waiting beyond the balcony railing and stretching on endlessly into the horizon.

--------------------------------

I will let you all decide for yourselves what led to this moment, and what happened afterwards.

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO, I was seeing that you were open to requests and I've had this in my head for a long time and I would really like to see something about this, a reader who has a huge scar on his face that is literally ugly, they got it as a child, apart from the fact that it shows part of the teeth of how serious it was and for this reason the reader wears a mask for fear of being told things about them face, I'm sorry if it's something explicit just that sometimes I feel like I don't explain myself

Reader with a scar - Luffy & Penguin

Content: reader is referred to as a ‘guy’ and a ‘dude’, reader wears a face mask, can be read as platonic, face scarring due to a past accident not specified, fluff and reassurance, a few mentions of Shachi in Penguin's part.

Notes* Hey there! There wasn't a character specified for this ask, so I chose two that I'm less experienced with to write out this prompt with :) male reader because of the pronouns used in the ask! I got really interested in this prompt right away and wrote it immediately upon receiving the ask and absolutely had to post it now so I apologize if the formatting is wonky! I'm on mobile haha

Luffy

When you first met Strawhat Luffy, it was while he was stopped at your home island along his grand adventure

You'd never really paid much attention to pirates and their lives- you had your own to live and figure out anyway

But as you and Luffy became closer- first as acquaintances, then as temporary allies, and then as friends as he boldly declared it in a short amount of time, you started to really like the guy

He'd only asked you about the mask you wore once. But the second you tried to answer him, he was distracted by dinner. After that, it was if he'd forgotten all about his question

It was kind of nice that way, not needing to worry about constant pestering or comments about it

Luffy truly didn't give a shit what you wore on your face at all. He cared about you (and your food, of course)

Luffy had a way of making you feel as if you could trust him to see your face. What you've kept hidden for most of your life, after a terrible accident had, in your opinion, ruined your life

But Luffy's care for you was unlike anything you've ever felt before. Luffy made you feel safe, protected, and just a little anxious at how willing he was to throw himself in harm's way to help you, the appointed new friend

One evening, you decide that you do in fact want to talk to him about your past. It's a decision you've been thinking over for a while, but actually getting up and moving to Luffy's room is such a sudden action, and then you're suddenly seeking him out in the dead of night on his ship to tell him about your scar.

The Thousand Sunny was still docked peacefully at the edge of the south side of your island, where you had originally met them what felt like so long ago. In reality, it had only been about a week since the Strawhats arrived, and yet it felt like so much longer in the chaos.

Their gangplank was pulled up, but before you could start trying to climb the ship's side, you spot Luffy out on the deck- evident by the straw hat on his head.

You call out his name, and he turns right away. With a grin quickly spreading on his face, he hops off the sunny and onto the grassy island floor. He calls your name happily.

“What are you doing over here? Is something wrong?” He asks.

You tell him it's not that, and he picks up on your unease.

“Well, what is it? It's hard to tell but you look like something's bothering you. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, and you begin to explain. You tell him about your accident, about how your face was scarred and disfigured. You tell him about your upbringing, how hard it was to fit in with the other kids while you looked like that.

You can feel yourself getting emotional. Luffy can hear it in your voice, too. He calls your name in a stern tone- one he only seems to use when he gets serious.

“Listen, I don't care about all that crap.” He speaks. And though his words are blunt, you know he means them in the best way.

“I like you. You're a really nice guy, and you fight really well. So what else matters? You think I care if you've got a scar on your face?”

He stares at you, and you feel it in the center of your chest.

“You should feel free to do whatever you want! If you want to wear your mask then that's fine. But if you don't, then take it off! And if people don't like it, that's their problem! If they don't want to get to know you because of what your face looks like, then they're the ones that are missing out!”

You can feel tears in your eyes. There's something about the way Luffy says- no, declares it so passionately that leaves no doubt in your mind of his pure fondness for you.

Through your tears, you can see Luffy's smile, and your heart soars.

Penguin

You'd been a Heart Pirate for a short amount of time, but somehow you had made quick friends with many people on the Polar Tang- one of them being the man who called himself, ‘Penguin’ with the hat to prove it

There was something about him that was so easy to click with. Maybe it was your shared sense of humor, or the fact that you found it hilarious watching him and his partner in crime Shachi get into trouble for pulling pranks around your Captain (for the millionth time)

You weren't the only person on the crew who wore a full face mask, either. So while he was curious and questioned it in the beginning, one word from you to leave it alone and he backed off. Surprisingly.

Still, you definitely caught him eyeing you at times. The urge to pull the mask off your face to see what you were hiding was strong in him, but you two were friends and he wouldn't do that to you

One evening, Shachi had been pressing you just a little too much about the matter and he'd said, “What, are you ugly or something under there?”

Which earned a swift smack to the back of his head from Penguin, chastising him for saying something that insensitive

He'd noticed the way your teeth clenched, how tense you got. It had obviously hit home, and he made Shachi apologize for his rude joke right then and there

After that though, he found himself wondering why. Why did you think you were ugly? What were you hiding? Did you actually have a reason to be insecure, or was it something more?

He cared about you. He didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around them- the Heart Pirates were your family now, and a proper family didn't hurt each other for something so miniscule.

You had gotten over the comment, but Penguin had already begun his mission.

It was late into the evening. The chores were done for the day, and Penguin wanted to catch you before you went to bed. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do or say, but he knew he wanted to address it before the worry drove him to insomnia.

He searches the halls for you and eventually finds you in the common room. He calls your name cheerfully, thankful that you're alone here- at least for the time being.

You greet Penguin, looking up from what you'd been doing. He takes a seat nearby and starts to make idle chatter, asking you about your day, telling you a bit of gossip, smiling when he gets you to laugh.

Then he clears his throat and switches gears, moving on to the conversation he really came here for.

“So, uh… There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You watch him fidget for a minute. He's not good with feelings at all, and he's trying to figure out how to bring this up without accidentally offending you. Eventually, he finds the words.

“So… About what Shachi said a while back. I was kinda worried about it.”

You quickly assure him that it was fine, that Shachi apologized and he only meant it as an, albeit bad, joke.

“Yeah, but… I don't know. It looked like it really bothered you. I hope you don't think that, like, we would think you're ugly or something! Whatever you look like under there, you're still the same cool dude we know. Nothing would change that. I guess I just wanted to say that.” Penguin shrugs.

You're not sure what to say to that. Your initial reaction is bitter- to insist that actually they would think you're ugly if they could see your face. But something stops you, and you get stuck just choking on your words.

“Look, I'm just saying, it bothers me to think that you don't like the way you look. I'm not saying you have to show me your face or anything, but just… If you choose to take your mask off one day, I hope you know that we'd love you all the same. You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like.”

You nod, because it's all you can bring yourself to do in the moment. It's nice, hearing that reassurance.

Penguin quickly changes the subject to try and dissipate the tension in the room made by the serious conversation, going on about something stupid Shachi had done that got him into some shit with the Captain earlier, which makes you laugh.

His words stick to your heart -You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like- and you know that when you do decide to show yourself to them, that you'll be alright.

[rireraa]

his favourite thing II

midorima isn't the ordinary type, the same applies to his taste of the human body. if he had to choose between chest, thighs and ass, his desicion would fall on thighs, yes, but his favourite part of your body will always be your throat

sometimes you catch him staring at you while eating, at your mouth and then throat. "analyzing you anatomy", that's what he calls it, but you have already noticed how he would always lay his hand on your neck, a thumb right on your throat during a kiss to feel you gasping for air and gulping. every time shivers run through his body which leads him to kiss you even harder to get more of it

one of the only things which drives our rational midorima crazy is the view of you, laying on your back, head placed at the edge of the bed while you're sucking his cock so well and your throat shows how he's moving in and out

he really needs to hold himself back, pressing his eyes together otherwise he would cum within the first few seconds. it doesn't change that he reaches his climax after some additional strokes of your teasing tongue and your mouth clenching harder around him. you simply drive him crazy

still, this isn't enough for him. once he got attached to the feeling of you, one time won't still his hunger. and in this case, our boy puts all his effort into expressing his desires and asks you for a second time. of course he is going to reward you after this

"you did so well, thank you. . . do you mind if we do it a second time?"

part I

[rosalind-hawkins]

What Do I Ship?

Don't mistake this for a tolerance or tier list. I will read and write ships that aren't even on this list, or write ships from the secondary list sometimes, this is just to give you a general sense of the stuff I mainly support/think about and in what capacity. Might be updated periodically. Ranting and comments in the tags.

Re: the Mokuba ships, I only ship them in non-problematic ways, where either the Kaiba brothers are ageswapped, making Mokuba the same age as the rest of the main cast, or where they only get together far post-canon where Mokuba's an adult. We cool? Cool.

Primary Ships

(things I can/want to create content for; this does not include every ship I've ever written, just the ones I care about/are currently engaged in writing/plan to write multiple fics for, or ships I just stan in a way that I know it'll never end)

Euroshipping (Kaiba x Ryou)

Puppyshipping (Joey x Kaiba)

Mumbleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Duke)

Teaseshipping (Joey x Ryou x Kaiba)

Snareshipping (Joey x Duke)

Trustshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu)

Polarshipping (Joey x Mai)

Blueshipping (Kisara x Kaiba)

Mizushipping (Kisara x Priest Seto)

Minorshipping (Ryou x Duke)

Mastershipping (Duke x Kaiba)

Puffshipping (Joey x Ryou)

Sweetshipping (Ryou x Mokuba)

Wintershipping (Mokuba x Amane)

Rollshipping (Duke x Ryou x Joey)

Secondary Ships

(things I will read but I don't write {much, or anymore, in some cases} for one reason or other)

Wishshipping (Joey x Yugi)

Powershipping (Kaiba x Marik)

Graceshipping (Ishizu x Ryou)

Doubtshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Marik)

Petshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Joey)

Axisshipping (Kaiba x Siegfried)

Angstshipping (Ryou x Marik)

Irateshipping (Marik x Joey)

Buddyshipping (Joey x Tristan)

Heartshipping (Yugi x Ryou)

Fragileshipping (Yami Yugi x Ryou)

Changeshipping (Duke x Marik)

Logicshipping (Priest Seto x Priestess Isis)

Gemshipping (Ryou x Thief King Bakura)

Thiefshipping (Yami Bakura x Marik)

Candleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Yami Bakura)

Antagoshipping (Kaiba x Yami Bakura)

Corruptshipping (Priest Seto x Thief King Bakura)

Stoicshipping (Kaiba x Priest Seto)

Shimmershipping (Duke x Mokuba)

Guardshipping (Kaiba x Roland)

Senetshipping (Ishizu x Duke)

Angelicshipping (Ryou x Rafael)

Mercuryshipping (Kisara x Kaiba x Ishizu)

Entrepreneurshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Siegfried)

Unnamed (Aigami x Marik x Yami Bakura)

Scholarshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu x Ryou)

There's also plenty of random unnamed poly ships that I want to play around with in one-shots, usually a combo of my top six fave characters.

[feelingpure]

Fellow Travelers Rewatch Party | You're Wonderful

Favourite moment(s) or scene(s) of the episode

It's still the whole chicken noodle soup scenario, from Hawk's entrance up until the radio gets brought up. I like how it sets up their starting dynamic. And to link with that, the whole dynamic filp when “I wanna go to the party” happens. Tim's hones his seductress powers, and we get to see Hawk be the flustered one caught off guard for once.

I also really like the opening scenes 🥹 and the election night meeting and the 1st time at the Cozy Corner and and and–

Favourite quote/dialogue

There's so many too choose from 😭 I'm gonna list a few;

For funsies:

“I'm your boy, right?” - I mean, it's the blog title for a reason - the moment the tables turn. (I made an edit of this moment as a bit of episode appreciation, as suggested in the master series rewatch post 🫶)

“I'll spend the afternoon picturing you kneeling in prayer.”

For feelsies:

“When I committed this sin, I felt pure. More pure than I felt in my entire life. So how can I be sorry for it?”

“I want to hold you tonight. If you'll let me.” - it's just so 🥺

Something new you noticed after the rewatch

Joe Alsop is talking about turtle soup that smells like feet (but taste great) at his party. 👀 And Tim's just stood there, then the camera goes back and settles on Hawk in the background talking to Lucy and someone else. Tim's smile fades at first for a lil bit, but then he has this like sneaky smile when it goes back to him. Given what happened in the previous scene, it's very... 😈

And just some more of this bit, Tim then goes to grab a drink for Mary and as he's walking away we see Hawk tracking him with his eyes (and of course he then follows him). I knew the major beats at this party, but there were certain little things that I definitely did not pick up on before. 😆 (Probably too brrrrrrrr from the previous scene)

The MVP of the episode

I think I'm gonna have to go with 80s Tim, even though we only catch a glimpse of him. It's the decision he makes, to allow Hawk back in, that makes the rest of the 80s timeline possible. 🥲

You general thoughts on the episode

It just perfectly sets everything up for the rest of the series. There's so many bits of dialogue that calls back to things later on, or is just more interesting with them in mind. Also all the anticipation at the end, even when you already know the while story, some bits still had me holding my breath like an idiot hahah.

My main feelings coming out of episode 1 is just always wanting to protect 50s Tim at all costs. Though after seeing the whole show and softening on Hawk, I also wanna protect him; from himself. But yeah - screaming crying etc.

Thoughts on soundtrack of the episode

I'll spare you the essay about when each part the score comes up in the episode and how it makes me feel (😭), but it's just brilliant. Hawk's main theme at the election party, and Pull Them Off at Tim's apartment being notable.

The Waiting for Tim theme especially is just. 😚🤌 He's waiting for his call back at that cafe/diner in the 80s, while he was also waiting outside his apartment in the 50s, and it's just full of anticipation. 🥺

While you're here, go listen to the composer talk about this particular piece.

[grimm-rider]

Entry 30

It’s done. We had to fight Keisuke, and it’s over and done. I couldn’t convince him to give up Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon. They were too connected to his damned ritual. And he was afraid of Nestian’s mom trying to kill him. Which, I mean, yeah of course she was going to try to kill him, he murdered her husband and got her son stuck growing up in another universe without her.

I’ve talked to the others. I’ve talked to Greta. It helped. Somewhat. I think there’s some stuff I’m just going to have to work through on my own. But they all helped to get me moving in the right direction. Again.

But I’ll write more on that when we get to it. I have too much to say about it—better to write it all then rather than write in circles getting it down now and then again when it comes up later.

I went to visit Keisuke basically first thing in the morning. I put it off as long as I could—long enough for us to eat a meal at least and for me to try to think of any other reason we shouldn’t go. Which was ridiculous seeing as I was the one who had brought up to Nestian in the first place! But…I don’t know. Knowing we needed to help Nestian to get his mother back as soon as possible, and knowing I needed to do what I could to try to work this out peacefully despite how the others felt about Keisuke were two separate thoughts that just didn’t interact. They were both just as true.

So with Edeya and Nestian’s help, we teleported back to Artrosa, and made the trek back inside to the chamber housing the Eon Pit.

I asked the others to wait outside for me, until I gave Aenland a signal through the Stone of Farspeech. I didn’t want to spook Keisuke by coming into his demiplane with a group of people who were—besides Greta and Talsune—all hostile towards him. Thankfully, the others agreed to give me time to try to speak to Keisuke one last time.

So I entered the doorway leading into the Nonagon. After walking down a short hallway, I came up a flight of stairs and found myself at the exact spot I usually Plane Shifted into the Nonagon at. Keisuke had his back to me, but his ears shot up at the sound of someone entering his domain. He asked before he turned if it was me, to which I confirmed.

He dropped the spell he had been casting when I spoke. Anyone else would have gotten an immediate Death Clutch—deadly to anyone not as incredibly powerful as my friends and I, and still crippling to even someone more powerful. I apologized for sneaking up on him, which he brushed off, as he seemed almost giddy to reveal what he’d been working on. He kept saying all he’d needed were ‘the time and the place’—which it turns out is what he traded the King in Yellow for his services helping Kostchtchie. He learned about the location of some foreign spymaster’s underground bunker—the place. And the time he needed to attune this ritual to—a moment in which his cousin, the one with Mythic Power he’d told me about so long ago, died for just a short moment.

Keisuke admitted he was getting a bit ahead of himself, as I’d mentioned that I was there to talk about something. He offered a seat at his table and some tea, as always. I took a seat and accepted the warm drink, and explained to Keisuke the real reason I was there. I asked if—since they’d been so much trouble for him recently—I could take Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon off his hands. He regretfully told me that before the Nonagon was fixed that would have sounded like a tempting proposition, but as it was, he needed the Eidolon to complete his ritual. On top of that, removing her now would apparently rip off one of his tails, which was exactly as gruesome as it sounds. He was also concerned for his own safety given that Nestian’s mother had every reason to kill him, even if Nestian was willing to listen on my behalf.

The subject drifted as I tried to think if there was any way to salvage this. Keisuke asked me about our mission to kill Elvanna. If I was still planning to go through with it. What I got out of it. The most obvious answer was that I don’t want the world to be frozen over any more than most people living on Golarian who aren’t fanatic Winter Witches. I prefer not living in an arctic apocalypse—especially if I’m going to try to live forever. That sounds miserable. The world has a lot more to offer me if it’s thriving. Keisuke pointed out that I could survive Elvanna’s apocalypse in Grimm Labyrinthus, but I countered that there was only so much I could do in a demiplane. I know myself—I’m very much a creature of pleasures. I need to experience the highs of living—preferably with Greta at my side. Being holed up in a demiplane would drive me mad.

It was probably a bit rude to point this out to the man who has clearly been spending the majority of his time in a demiplane since the Elvanna of his world froze it over, but it’s not like I was trying to say he was in the wrong for doing that. Just that I wouldn’t choose that life myself.

Talking about that brought Keisuke around to talking a bit about his own universe, the one where Elvanna did win. He’d been marked from a young age as someone meant for greatness—his silver fur meant he was destined to be an oracle or, as it turned out, a shaman. Keisuke was ambitious even back then, and did whatever he had to in order to keep the power in his tribe that he’s been promised—including killing those who spoke against him, claiming he wasn’t using his position to properly speak for the dead.

And then it all came crashing down around him when Elvanna froze his world, destroying his tribe with it. Keisuke tracked down a hole in time—the same one Nestian and Peanut later used. Keisuke believed he was meant to be the first to go through it, but as it turned out his cousin had beaten him to it. She went through first, and in doing so gained everything he felt should have been his.

I asked Keisuke what he planned to do once he had mythic power—hoping for anything I could grab hold of and cling to that might just give me another chance to talk him into some sort of bargain to release Nestian’s family members.

What he said caused it all to come crashing down around me.

He said he would go back and get the friends he was meant to have. He would get the friends and the mythic power that were denied him in one fell swoop. The time and the place he’d been given represented an extremely brief moment in which his cousin had been killed—disintegrated—and he was going to throw his soul back to that moment and take her place when she was meant to be revived. He would be the one with mythic power. He would be the one with friends. He would be the hero. And his cousin would be nothing but a soul lost in the ether.

I knew then that I would have to call the others in, despite how much I desperately wanted any other outcome. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, this was something he’d been working towards for years—something he felt he was owed by the universe itself. And if he went through with what he wanted, he would be taking the place of some sort of mythic hero, and…I liked Keisuke, but he was no hero. It would be a disaster. I would hardly call myself a hero despite doing arguably heroic things for the others’ sake. But Keisuke wouldn’t even play hero for the sake of people he cared about…I don’t know if he knew how to care about someone like that. He wanted friends for the idea of the friends that he felt he was owed, not for what friends actually are.

If he’d wanted real friends, maybe he’d have actually appreciated how hard I tried to keep things from escalating to the point they did.

Keisuke told me that this ritual would take a while—it could be anywhere from 9 hours to 9 days to 9 months, it was hard to say. But he said he would release Nestian’s mother and the Eidolon to the edge of the Eon Pit once it was complete and he no longer needed them. This is what he considered being nice. It was *almost* a compromise, except when I asked him if they would be unharmed, I could tell that he was lying when he said they would be fine. And anything that would bring harm to Nestian’s family was not an acceptable outcome.

Keisuke wanted to start preparing his ritual, and he was going to have to turn on the Nonagon’s defenses, so it was time for me to leave. He commented that I should let him know next time I’m planning on dropping by, since he’d nearly killed me this time. I laughed it off, reminding him that I am a very difficult man to kill.

At the time his response was foreboding, if not puzzling. He agreed with me that I was, in a tone that felt to me like it implied he’d tried to kill me before and knew from experience I was good at escaping death. But that didn’t fit any part of the story I knew of our forgotten past, and it certainly didn’t fit any part of our meetings that I could actually remember.

It made me all the more certain of what I needed to do—like it or not.

I left the Nonagon and began down the hall, but didn’t walk all the way to the door. Instead, when I felt I was out of range of even Keisuke’s sharp hearing, I activated the Stone of Farspeech and let Aenland know that I’d failed, and that we would have to go with his plan instead.

Aenland actually gave his condolences that things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, before his voice cut out, and a moment later he and the others burst through the door ahead of me. Nevra cast Haste and then began singing as she and Aenland flew past. Nestian pat me on the shoulder—at least I assume it was Nestian. I had closed my eyes, just breathing, listening to them fly towards battle, the start of Keisuke’s ritual in the distance, and then the familiar sound of the Nonagon’s musical alarm sounding as Keisuke’s recorded voice began singing. I steeled myself as I heard Keisuke yell my name, and that we needed to have a conversation. When I opened my eyes, I knew I would find Talsune and Roscoe waiting for me there. I sent Roscoe ahead, then climbed onto Talsune’s back. I’d steeled myself for what I had to do.

I think Talsune knew what I was feeling well enough to know that no words were going to help. Just then his presence, and his own emotions offsetting mine a little, were more than enough.

Then I heard a yelp from Greta echo down the hall, followed by Keisuke in alarm telling whichever of his minions harmed her not to target her again. He sounded like he was being genuine in his desire not to target me, Talsune, or Greta—or at least his desire to not upset me further by harming the two people he knew I was closest to, and who he probably believed were the most likely to side with me if I suddenly switched sides to fight with him.

I would have been willing to hear him out again. Maybe even give talking one more shot. I would have liked that, really. Except for what happened next.

Keisuke called to me that there was an explanation for what was going to happen next—and then he invoked the name of the Grimm Rider. I heard a far-too familiar voice, followed by the sound of Wail of the Banshee being cast. The flickers of dark magic I could see emanating just beyond the staircase were also far too familiar. Because that was my magic. And my voice. The same voice I’d heard through that recorded scry of the Grimm Rider on Triaxus. The same voice I’d heard when Mirror Edeya had me battle The Grimm Rider in her twisted mirror maze.

Talsune swooped up the stairs and flared his wings so we could stop just before a floor to ceiling rainbow colored barrier around what had been Keisuke’s table, where he’d been standing moments prior. Now as I looked up, it appeared as though Keisuke was towering over us. As if the interior of the Nonagon had been shrunk and flung onto a war map on his table.

I looked to where I had heard my voice, and sure enough, there was yet another imitation of myself in my ‘former glory’. What really caught my eye, however, was the door behind him. Like the others, when I’d looked at them last time I was in the Nonagon, this one was replaying the moment Keisuke had caused me the pain and anguish that would allow him to create a simulacrum of me.

Keisuke was standing before a council of cloaked figures, some wearing Norgorber iconography, some wearing Urgathoan symbols. The man who appeared to be the leader had both of our patron’s markings, and he gestured to me—then a Skeletal Champion—and gave the order for me to kill Baba Yaga and to not come back until I’d succeeded. So I turned and left, to do as I was commanded.

It was exactly as he’d described my banishment from his cult to me before.

And then the thin strings connecting Keisuke to his Flesh Puppet Horde snapped, and everyone else in the room went limp.

…

Quite a while ago now, Keisuke told me about how I’d been sent to kill Baba Yaga by his old cult. An obvious suicide mission, meant to get rid of me. He told me not to worry, he’d killed them all for it. They made excellent flesh puppets. He’d said it as if it were to avenge my inevitable death. As if he’d killed them in anger and vengeance over a lost apprentice.

But, no. I was ‘lost’ because of Keisuke. He had sent me on that suicide mission, he had tried to make sure I get destroyed in an impossible task. This is what he must have been alluding to when he’d agreed that I was a hard man to kill. Because he’d expected Baba Yaga to kill me for whatever attempt I made. He hadn’t expected me to game the system and get myself resurrected, to become her Rider, to gain more power than him. He hadn’t expected me to come back a year later with amnesia and no idea who he was, ready to listen to whatever half-truths he fed me.

I listened to him, kept secrets for him, let him very nearly guide me down a path of being someone just like him, believing for so long that he’d saved my life and that I owed my very existence to him. Just to find out I was nothing but a puppet whose strings he’d already tried to cut once before.

I don’t even know how to describe how I felt in the moment. It’s not like the fury I felt at Rasputin for having caused the death that wiped my memories. It wasn’t like the hatred and disgust I felt for Nazhena. It’s not like the distain and loathing I feel for Queen Elvanna.

I was angry. Oh yes, I was very angry. But there was also this aching sadness that gripped at my heart and made me feel hollow. It drew in the fire of my anger that usually encourages me to reap bloody vengeance on someone who’s wronged me, and left it cold.

I did not enjoy fighting Keisuke. I did not enjoy killing Keisuke. Even if my spells had been what snuffed out his life, I would not have offered this death up to either of our gods. Although I wonder if where he did die has its own House of Murder. Abbadon probably has him regardless.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Probably because I would rather not remember and write the gory details of this fight.

But…there are reasons I probably should continue to write every detail. Not because I think I’ll have amnesia again. I’ll get to that soon. I should quit putting off the rest of this.

When I saw the images from my forgotten past, Keisuke quickly tried to explain them away. He said it was fine, because I’d survived and I was stronger now because of it (true, but that doesn’t make what he did to me fine.) He argued that he could see the future and knew that I’d survive (he can, but he did not.)

I told him as much, that just because he can see the future doesn’t mean he foresaw this. He tried to get rid of me, he sent me to die.

Keisuke said fine, if it was going to be like that. He rescinded his protection for me, Talsune, and Greta. His simulacrums and undead would target us just as much as they would the others. Maybe more, if he was out to ‘teach me a lesson’.

Talsune flew us away from the Prismatic Walls, and we dove at a simulacrum that appeared to be of an aasimar with wings made of fire, holding aloft a holy symbol of the same (illegal) dead goddess Edeya had once been interested in. My partner brought his blade down on the woman wreathed in flames, while I took inspiration from her fire and called down an Ectoplasmic Firestorm, which set almost every one of our enemies—except the Grimm Rider, go figure—on fire.

I decided to try to do a bit more against this echo of my past and quickened a Boneshatter. He resisted enough to not have any major bones snap apart, but I definitely heard the telltale cracking from the spell that told me I’d left him with a few fractures.

Unfortunately, Keisuke decided he was going to try to break my favorite pet. There was an artifact in the first room—an artifact which looked like the strange little chip that I’d seen through the image on the 1st door when I’d been looking last time.

It’s almost funny, how I could have discovered what Keisuke did to me so much earlier if I hadn’t quit looking at the doors when I found Nestian’s dad. If I’d had any inkling that knowing what was behind the other two doors would be important to me, and I’d looked, I would have learned before we ever went to the Eon Pit. Maybe we could have done something about Keisuke without the Nonagon being at full power.

Oh well…too late for what-ifs.

When the artifact activated, it shot a Maximized Fireball right in the middle of Nestian, Greta, Edeya, and Roscoe. Nestian, Edeya, and Greta made it through just fine (I will always be grateful to my past self for thinking of gifting Greta that ring. My only regret would be not just proposing to her already. I’ll have to somehow get her an even better ring when I do.)

Roscoe was not destroyed, but he was badly singed, and Keisuke made it clear that breaking what belonged to me in response to us breaking his things was the goal now. I told him fine, because we were going to break a hell of a lot more of his things than he would of mine.

I would be unhappy if I lost Roscoe for good, though. He’s just objectively better than any other undead we’ve encountered. But I wasn’t going to let Keisuke know that or he’d have redoubled his efforts on destroying him.

I didn’t get much time to think about it, though, because a moment later Keisuke covered the entire room with a Wail of the Banshee. My Wail of the Banshee. He was leeching that spell from the simulacrum of me, it’s not that he was just casting a spell I like to use with his own magic, he was literally using my spell. It was a little strange having someone else (well someone other than The Grimm Rider) throwing around magic identical to mine. Usually spellcasters have their own flair, something about their spell is unique to them, as different as a fingerprint or a snowflake. But, other than whatever he had from being a Shaman I assume, everything he had was pilfered power. His spells didn’t have that consistency, that through-line, they were all someone else’s magic tacked on top of his own.

Talsune and I resisted, but I didn’t have much time to think about that either, because then the angel woman hit me with a Heal spell. I really should have worn the Pallid Crystal. I knew that Keisuke knew that weakness, but I just kind of assumed he didn’t have that kind of magic. He implied as much back when I assumed that he’d resurrected me as opposed to raising me as an undead.

But then again, who knows how true that comment was? Maybe he wanted to keep that particular advantage over me close to his chest. I’ll never know now.

Fortunately, before anyone else could try to kill me (namely myself—or the echo thereof), Edeya was able to get a Harm spell over to me and undid the damage the Heal spell did.

Unfortunately, it would be hard for her to get over to me to do that again if it became necessary, because a moment later Nestian’s mother’s eidolon burst through the door she had been held in. And she was under Keisuke’s command. She immediately went after Nestian—likely because Keisuke knew that would hurt him the worst. I could tell it was going to be a nasty bite—one that would rip and then immediately burn with the electricity crackling across her scales. I threw some raw magical protection between him and the eidolon—not quite the Black Rider’s protection, but an approximation using my own magic. Not as powerful, but strong enough to protect my friends when they needed it if I was nearby. Nestian didn’t have to be the only one taking care of everyone, and always get himself beaten up and bloodied in the process.

Keisuke derisively said that I’ve gone soft—that that’s what this was, he just needed to get rid of the others and I would snap out of it. I destroyed the tracks that train of thought was on immediately. I told him that he was desperately trying to go somewhere else to find the group of friends he was supposed to have—these were mine. So, to torture the metaphor, he changed tracks and decided if I wouldn’t come back to him while alive, then he would just kill me and keep me as an obedient undead again.

Man, at least Rasputin never threatened to keep me as a pet after I rejected him.

Afterwards the Grimm Rider went for me, trying to cast a spell—the casting looked like Destruction—but it struck Vigliv’s protections (something the simulacrum thankfully lacked). He then tried to Quicken a Boneshaker on me, but again hit my defenses. My bones blissfully unshaken. Keisuke said something about how he honestly didn’t expect any differently—the simulacrum was fighting his progenitor, it was only natural that a pale imitation couldn’t live up to the original. I’ll admit to being pleased to hear that, despite Keisuke and I being at each other’s throats right that moment. If nothing else, he still had some respect for my power, even if it was questionable if he had any respect for me.

It was hard to keep track of what was going on around the battlefield. The Prismatic Wall was blocking half the room off, so I couldn’t see what Aenland or Illivor were up to, nor the goblin simulacrum or the reaper that went after them. I did hear Keisuke howl in pain and see one tail get rent apart, so I assumed that one of them had killed one of the two simulacrums back there. Then I got to see one of the simulacra get killed—a woman with goggles and multiple flasks of red reactive looking fluids, who appeared to have been paralyzed by Roscoe, if the bullet holes and lack of attempt to dodge anything that was happening around her were any indication. So, another point for my favorite pet. Peanut finished her off while she couldn’t move…saying something about how ‘being mauled by a bear wasn’t on her list yet’?

When the simulacra died, Keisuke howled in pain again as another one of his tails went up in explosive flames. Solidifying the connection between the clones and his tails for anyone who, unlike me, hadn’t already been directly told by him that they were linked.

In response, Keisuke summoned a new undead into the fray. A fucking Demi-lich. I heard the familiar Wail of the Banshee screams, saw that Greta was in the middle of that once again and remembered how that fucking Demi-lich in my bag had hurt her before. I threw the protection of the Black Rider around her, the screams of the damned parting around the black barrier like a river flowing around a rock. Then I saw Aenland’s arrows absolutely obliterate the damned thing in an instant.

I saw the Grimm Rider take his eyes off me. He was looking where I knew Aenland must be, based on where I saw the arrows shoot from. He pointed, and spoke a single word in Necril laced with power.

Nestian cried out, and threw his own protection of the Black Rider around Aenland—muffling the word that would have otherwise snuffed out his life.

Talsune tore into the angelic woman in front of us, then flapped away so I could focus on casting. I turned the full force of my power on The Grimm Rider. My magic—Power Word Kill, Wail of the Banshee, Destruction, all of it—was far too dangerous to have Keisuke and this echo throwing it around at my loved ones in this fight.

So, I ripped my magic away from him. By ripping out the pale imitation’s heart.

Keisuke noted that we really do learn things from one another. I agreed. I had never claimed otherwise.

Then he said he was going to learn from me and turn that method right back on me, since it worked so well on my simulacrum. I fell right back into step with whatever this dance of words was, reminding him that—in his own words—it was just a pale imitation. I wouldn’t be going down so easily.

‘Oh, we’ll see,’ he threatened.

He used some sort of latent power from the Nonagon to shift the position of the simulacrum of Nestian’s father—which was already badly injured courtesy of Roscoe, who I’d set on him so Nestian wouldn’t have to be the one to slay something that looked like his own father. He moved it so it was next to the dying Grimm Rider. The False-Isaac tried to Regenerate the Grimm Rider’s heart—and he did make it grow back, but in the process the positive energy burned inside of his chest where his heart was regrowing, and he died regardless.

So that was horrific. I don’t particularly want to die in any manner, but I think I just found a top contender for worst ways to be killed. And that’s coming from me. I kill people I hate in horrible ways for fun.

A moment later, Nestian flew across the battlefield and tried to finish off the thing wearing his father’s face. But he hesitated at the last moment, and his swing went wide.

So, it wasn’t Nestian who killed the fake Isaac.

It was Edeya.

She used a Quickened Dimension Door and appeared beside Nestian. She pulled him into a hug, so that his head was turned away as she gently said a few words—and the simulacrum slumped to the ground, falling peacefully dead and into a fine red dust as Edeya used Power Word Kill.

The effect it had on Keisuke was anything but peaceful, as two more of his tails tore apart. A moment later Keisuke howled with rage and pain as another unraveled—right before Aenland flew around the corner on Nevra’s back, soaked in his own blood and covered in cuts and burns, and enough blood coming out of his nose that I worried his brain itself was bleeding.

I called Roscoe over—he circled around to avoid the still dominated Eidolon, and landed near Nevra. Talsune and I flew over to meet them. I cast a Quickened Oracle’s Vessel on Aenland, then cast a Mass Inflict Critical Wounds on myself, Roscoe, and Aenland. It was enough to completely heal my wounds, but Roscoe and Aenland still looked like a stiff breeze might do them in. Fortunately for Aenland, he was near Edeya, and she patched him up with her more potent healing magic.

Then that strange artifact activated again, shooting another maximized Fireball at us. Most of us were fine—except for Roscoe, who looked like he was about to be engulfed in flames and likely meet his end, until Nestian threw his Helm of Teleportation to Roscoe—with an extra kick from his Black Rider powers—sending Roscoe safely back into my bag. Preventing Keisuke from having the pleasure of breaking my ‘toy’, and preventing me from losing my favorite pet. I thanked Nestian profusely later.

At the time Keisuke mocked me for going to so much trouble for a ‘broken bag of bones’, but I pointed out that he was a very useful broken bag of bones. Keisuke conceded the point, noting that after this he might see about getting a Baykok of his own—or taking mine. I told him over my dead body—and he wasn’t doing a very good job of that.

Despite his big words, it was clear that he was in a corner, and he knew it. He only had three tails left—and a moment later that was down to two when Nestian’s aunt, the Eidolon, broke free from Keisuke’s domination, and she and Nestian’s mother fused into one being and began tearing apart the Prismatic Walls. She disrupted the first one by throwing some sort of rounded object into it.

While she worked on that, I asked Edeya if she could identify the strange artifact that kept blasting us—assuming its destruction might help with taking down the walls. Edeya asked Illivor to look, as she was closer. Illivor glanced in, identified multiple Explosive Runes, and threw a Greater Dispel Magic into the room to nullify them all.

With the room now safe, I directed Talsune to get us in there and to smash that chip before Keisuke could activate any other defenses we didn’t know about. My partner did without a word from me, knowing my intention as quickly as it entered my mind. He plucked the small object from its stand—it looked almost like it could be a piece of technology from Numeria. A vision washed over him—and by extension me. Keisuke was somewhere in the mountains of Varisia, in a place piled with gold. He picked up the artifact, and when he did the room rumbled and a booming voice spoke to him. Keisuke fled in terror—but Talsune was a master of his own mind, and didn’t let Keisuke’s terror in the vision seep into him. He closed his fist and crushed the chip.

For the first time, Talsune and I were near one of these objects of Keisuke’s when they were destroyed. All of the suffering contained within that artifact—whatever it had once been—burst forth, trying to engulf myself, Talsune, and unfortunate Illivor who had still been a little too close when we’d swooped in.

We all withstood the onslaught, and as we did Keisuke once again howled in pain and anger and fear as he’s now lost all but one tail. The last one that must have been his original—he wasn’t born a nine-tailed kitsune at all, he’d simply stylized himself as one as he gained power. Not that I can judge him on that, with all I’ve done to style myself differently than the life I was born to. That’s just…ambitions for greatness. I don’t think that by itself is a bad thing. It’s the things he did to reach ‘greatness’ that put us on such different paths.

Destroying the chip also destroyed two more Prismatic Walls—just like I’d predicted. Nestian’s mother had already knocked down one wall, and Aenland did…something. It’s hard to say what. I know he used the luck blade, and I know it worked. But I think he might have toyed with time or something? Because on the one hand I feel like I remember the wall starting with nine layers—which fits, because Keisuke. But at the same time I feel like I remember only seven layers when I came up the stairs. And we only ended up destroying seven layers in total.

Anyways, I turned around and took out a diamond from my bag, and cast a Miracle through it. Out of the faceted sides of the diamond, the different spells needed to take down a Prismatic Wall were cast all at once—burning a bunch of scrolls we had on our person as payment in the process. When the diamond crumbled away, that was one less wall. Nestian’s mother cast a spell—I have no idea what she cast, if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was modified through an object like my pocket watch, because the spell didn’t fit any spell I know of. Maybe it was specific to her universe—although I don’t think I’ve ever seen Keisuke use magic that wasn’t in some way recognizable on Golarian.

What she did was…well, it looked like the threw the wall into space. That is the best way I can describe it, even though we were in a Demiplane and the concept of space in a place not directly connected to the material plane is a bit nebulous. Regardless of how she did it, it did get rid of another wall.

And I think Keisuke panicked as we were ripping straight through his defenses to reach him.

He used his luck blade twice to cast a non-existent spell—Mass Harm. I wish there was a Mass Harm, that would be really convenient for me. I guess I could apparently use Miracle to make a Mass Harm, but then I’d need a diamond for it every time and at that point I might as well just let someone die and resurrect them.

…My life is very strange that ‘Mass Harm’ would be more likely to be used for mass healing than for actually ‘harming’ anyone. If I wanted to harm a bunch of people I’d just use Wail of the Banshee, or Massacre, or Fire Storm, or Horrid Wilting…you get my point. I have a lot of ways to kill a lot of people at once. My best way to heal a lot of people at once is significantly weaker than Harm.

The final diamond of his Luck Blade he used to try to force his ritual to successfully complete early.

And it worked.

The Nonagon vanished, nothing but the room the blank simulacrum had been in was left. Only the blank simulacrum standing in the replica of some spymaster’s safehouse was now replaced by a silver haired woman, the remains of a green ray hitting her chest, and her body turning to dust. This was no longer the replica of the room, or the simulacrum. It was the time and the place that Keisuke was trying to fling himself into.

And Keisuke was running down a long hall towards it. We ran after him.

Edeya and Illivor acted first, our resident witches always the smart ones. They both stripped away his defenses with as many uses of Greater Dispel Magic as they could throw in the blink of an eye.

Talsune dove forward. He knew I wanted to reach Keisuke first. I let go of Talsune, trusting him to hold me aloft, as I pulled out the pocket watch. The pocket watch that once belonged to Keisuke, but which I pulled from the Eon Pit and have made my own. I channeled Slay Living through it, and even as Talsune’s blade skewered him, my touch was gentle. I was not aiming for a horrific death. Not this time.

The ritual seemed to have a strange effect on Keisuke’s personal time. The injuries were there, but formed across his body so painfully slowly. The dark flames of Slay Living that normally devoured a body in seconds instead danced across his red-stained white fur for what felt like an eternity.

I knew I couldn’t let him escape—not when I had no idea what might be at stake if he replaced his cousin as one of these mythic ‘heroes’. So I quickened an inflict critical wounds, remembering that he’d once mentioned he didn’t have my gift. The black and purple flames joined and intermixed with the almost ebony flames of Slay Living, twisting together in a dance of death and decay.

Keisuke looked over his shoulder at me. For once I don’t know what emotion I was reading in his eyes. Hate? Fear? Disappointment? Anger? Resignation? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I told him I was sorry, that I wished this could have ended differently.

It wasn’t a lie. Despite everything, despite how much he hurt me, despite knowing how much he lied, despite all the things he said during this fight…I still didn’t want to kill him. That anger at him was a pile of barely glowing coals and ash by this point, seeing him like this. I couldn’t find it in myself to reach for that burning indignation and thirst for retribution that normally comes so naturally to me.

I don’t know what I wanted to do instead. I don’t think I had any realistic vision of another way forward until I talked to Greta later. I just know that despite everything, it tore at my heart to kill this man.

The others joined in my attack, equally unwilling to risk his escape despite not truly knowing the extent of the consequences like I did. I hadn’t had a chance to tell them what Keisuke told me. All they knew was that he was getting away, and that he’d completed some sort of ritual. They had no idea the full implications of what he was about to do.

For once, I suppose, it was fortunate that Aenland and Nestian were not going to hesitate to attack Keisuke.

Greta was the first to follow up on Talsune’s attack, however. When she pulled away from the strange time anomaly happening around Keisuke, she laid a hand over mine—still white knuckle clutching the pocket watch like a lifeline. No words needed—she was there for me, and she knew that this had not come easily to me unlike most deaths we’d caused. That was more than enough.

The others did what had to be done, with Nevra, Aenland, and Nestian finishing the job in quick succession. Time around Keisuke seemed to start to catch up to him, and I was sure that was the end of it.

But then his form flickered, the familiar displaced from time effect of a Temporal Status overtaking him before the spreading damage could snuff out his life entirely. I recognized a Contingency spell when I saw one—even if I don’t remember the time I saved myself from death by similar means.

However while he was frozen in time, the woman behind him finished dissolved into nothing but a fine dust, and the image of that other place faded away. He’d missed the time. The ritual was over. But with one final push Keisuke popped out of Temporal Stasis, alive but weakened, and stepped through that distorted point of reality into…somewhere else. He looked exhausted. Weak. I don’t think he had a single drop of magic left in him. He swore he would start from the bottom, and build his power up from scratch if that’s what it took. And then he’d come back for us. For me. To avenge himself of everything we’d just taken from him.

He never got a chance…he’ll never get the chance.

Keisuke was so focused on us through the rift in time and space that he didn’t see the man standing behind him. He’d stepped into what looked like some sort of golden casino, and behind him was a finely dressed man. Wielding a flaming glaive. The last I saw of Keisuke was a look of surprise as that glaive cut him down. The man muttered something about the number of temporal anomalies crossing through lately, before the portal snapped shut.

Keisuke’s body was left bleeding out and already dead in some other universe, out of reach.

There wasn’t time to think about it, as the entire Nonagon began to shake. I remembered that early in our fight Keisuke had told us that if we killed him, the Nonagon would break down and take us with it. I’d said then that I’d need to have a Plane Shift ready for when that happened. And I did…and as luck would have it, once Illivor returned to her fox form and her bond with Edeya reinstated itself, there were nine of us.

Because of course there were.

So I cast the spell through the pocket watch. I brought this to a close in a perfect circle, as I used the tool that once belonged to this man who caused so much death and hurt for my friend, and his family, and the people around them, and this time used it to save us all from his own crumbling Demiplane.

I took us to the safest place I could think of in the moment. Home. Grimm Labyrinthus. My own Demiplane. Maybe not as technically intricate as the Nonagon had been. Certainly not built siphoning power from the Eon Pit. But it is mine. Ours. And it is perfect.

I was more drained emotionally than physically when we arrived. I’d honestly not used that many spells, and I wasn’t that badly hurt—although I would need to expend quite a bit of negative energy later to patch Roscoe up. But in the moment, I was just…tired. And sad. And I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was sad. Was it because I’d found out that Keisuke had been lying the entire time, or because I was mourning that we had to kill him? The fact I’d been right, in a way, that what he needed were friends like the ones I’d had? Only he was too blinded by his own desires and obsessions to see it. Some strange mesh of all of these things?

I called Edeya, Aenland, and Nestian over, and just hugged them. I felt like I might pass out, but I held it together (although Nestian’s fur was very cozy). I don’t know what I was trying to say, really.

No. No, that’s a lie, I do know.

I just…wanted them to know I care. That they mean more to me than I can express. That…I’m grateful to have known them, because if I hadn’t I may well have stood with Keisuke today and let something terrible happen, for the sake of power, and for the sake of a friend who wanted nothing more than to erase anything we might have had, believing there was something more out there just for him.

I still can’t bring myself to be mad. I think I kind of pity him. I think I see a very dark mirror when I look at everything he did, and would have done. Not of the Grimm Rider, not this time. But of who I could have been without the others. All that power and no one to care about, to give me a reason to choose something more important than reaching endlessly for more power. No Aenland to call me out when I go too far, or lie to his face, or choose a path that scares him because he knows it ends in self-destruction. No Nestian to…quite frankly not want to disappoint. I’m more afraid of doing something that disappoints Nestian than something that makes him angry. I know I can handle an angry bear in my face. I can’t handle his soft-spoken disappointment. And no Edeya, my fellow Irriseni, my fellow spellcaster. She was the one I felt I had so much in common with when we first started, my confidant when I didn’t trust Aenland and Nestian with my secrets, and look how much she’s changed. She’s learned to be decisive, but she’s also so kind, and so gentle. And…I respect that about her. I could never…would never…limit myself the way she does. Yet she’s decided to do what she feels is the right thing to do, unabashedly, regardless of any jokes we make about her unusual take on pacifism. And she has still found a way to be an amazing witch even with her self-imposed limitations. I think…she’s set a really good example for me.

And, of course, there’s Greta. I don’t think, even with the other three, anything would have changed without Greta giving me that first nudge in the right direction. Being honest with her back in Whitethrone right before we fought Logrivich was one of the hardest, most terrifying things I have ever done. And it was the best decision of my life.

I know Nestian believes Keisuke and I are fundamentally different, but I think he just had the good fortune to have seen me at my best instead of at my worst. Even early on, before I liked or trusted the others, I still knew we were in this together and that I needed to at least act within a range of what they’d consider decent to keep this alliance we’d agreed to in Baba Yaga’s name running smoothly. But I also know for a fact I killed at least a few people in our early fights that Nestian wanted to spare, just because I saw no point in showing mercy to people who might come back and cause problems later. I think I would make a different decision now—I would respect Nestian’s wishes and his logic more than I did back then. I am sure I would still point out that keeping enemies alive might cause us more trouble in the long run—we have to take everything into consideration—but if in this theoretical situation Nestian understood that potential consequence and still wanted to be merciful, I would at the very least do my best to spare them for his sake. Although at this point I think Edeya is the one more likely to be the first to suggest nonviolent means.

Nestian and Edeya went off to make lunch to lighten the mood a bit and give me some time to process things. Aenland lingered for a moment. We talked. He said he’d give me space if I needed it, but he was here for me. He called me his brother. I thanked him to sticking by me, even though I’d been a bit of an ass to him early on. He said he could easily say the same to me. But what’s family for? I agreed, clasping his hand.

Just what I need, to go from being an only child to having a younger brother who is also over a hundred years older than me.

Afterwards I retreated with Greta to our room. I just laid there with her for a long time, in comfortable quiet. After a while I talked to her about how I didn’t even know why I was so upset, because logically I knew Keisuke had been a terrible person who hurt Nestian and his family, and was honestly kind of awful to everyone else around me. We talked a little about how I felt he was like that because he hadn’t had the same fortune I had, to have people around him who loved him enough to stop him. Then Greta said something that set the wheels spinning in my head, about how if I really wanted to give him a second chance, there was always Baba Yaga’s wish. At first it seemed like an immediate dead end—the others wouldn’t be ok with me bringing Keisuke back after everything he’d done and everything that had happened. But Greta pointed something else out. What if he got a fresh start when he came back. Like I had.

And she was absolutely right. If the Grimm Rider had come back like I’d planned when I’d convinced Rasputin to kill me in Taldor with a contingency spell in place, then I wouldn’t be who I am today. The Grimm Rider wouldn’t have teamed up with the others—or if he did it wouldn’t have been as equals. It took me starting over and rediscovering my power alongside my friends to become more than I was.

…

…I’m going to be giving up a lot if I go through with this. If I don’t take this opportunity for Mythic Power, another one probably won’t ever show itself. Keisuke’s ritual was to shunt his soul through time and puppet another person’s body and use their mythic power, rather than having a mythic ascension of his own, so I learned more about how not to get Mythic Power from him than how to get it.

And if I don’t get mythic power, it’s unlikely that I will find a means of immortality. Lichdom was a bust, and whatever Keisuke had going on with that artifact can’t be replicated since we broke it.

There’s no guarantee it’ll even work. I might bring Keisuke back, try to do right by him, and he’ll still turn out as a manipulative murderous bastard…well, more of a manipulative murderous bastard than I am. Then what? If he just goes right back to hurting my friends again, do I have to put him down a second time? If I bring him back I’ll be shouldering the responsibility for what he does.

Ugh. Responsibility is not something I have ever gone looking for. That’s why I told Greta I was never going to try to take over the world or even a country, regardless of how much power I get. Once you have it, what then? You have to manage running a country (or every country), that’s what. Sounds awful.

…

It’s so obvious that one of these things has so many more guaranteed upsides than the other, and one of these things had so many more unknown variables and could just blow up in my face all over again. And for once it’s not Mythic Power that’s the iffy option.

So why in the Nine Hells am I actually considering this?

…

I know why.

I had this chance. I wouldn’t be who I am today without this chance. I wouldn’t have everything I have today without this chance. Sure—I’d have the Grimm Rider’s power still. But what else would I have? Maybe I’d have made an empty demiplane with nothing but undead to lord over, just like Keisuke. Hell, for all I know the Grimm Rider did have a demiplane I simply don’t remember that will remain abandoned forever now. But beyond that, I’d have had nothing. Power, a wish from Baba Yaga, and isolation—because like Baba Yaga said, there was only one person that Calio Caecos trusted. Himself. I have so much more than the Grimm Rider ever did—I had to lose everything to get it, but now I am so much more than I was before.

I want Keisuke to have that same chance. Even if he turns around and screws me over again…at least I could say I tried. At least I could say he actually had that chance, and if it goes wrong again this time it’s all on him.

…I’m going to want some more time to think this through. Not to talk myself out of it, per-se. More…because I’m emotional right now. I am feeling about a dozen things at once, and it’s hard for any one feeling to come to the forefront at any given moment. I feel a whirlwind of emotions and a hollow empty place at the same time. It’s…a lot. I’m not going to make such a big decision like this while I’m in this headspace. Better to wait out the storm. We probably still have…what, a few more days before we kill Queen Elvanna? That…won’t be enough time to get over it, but it should be enough time for me to get my head on straight enough to really think this decision through.

Speaking of wishes, I finally had an opportunity to tell Greta about Baba Yaga’s offer of a second wish—one that had to go to someone else. Obviously, Greta was my first choice from the moment our kindly grandmother told me it couldn’t be for myself. I think ‘whatever your heart desires’ is a pretty good gift. Maybe a little behind ‘a ring that protects against fire’. But what can I do? You don’t outdo the classics.

Afterwards we decided to go back to the dining hall to see what Nestian had made for everyone.

Unfortunately, this extremely long day was quite literally only just beginning (Greta told me not to look at the clock so I just know in my heart what time it was.) While I was having a delicious meal with my family after a fucking awful day, my emotional state finally approaching an approximation of stable after Greta and my talk, I got a sending. From A’pul’a, that weird mythic plant person we met in the sewers who has technically killed Illivor twice now.

They apparently forgot to tell us something important. We needed to go to the royal cemetery immediately. Because someone was trying to create a new Crone Queen. And they asked me specifically not to ruffle the feathers of their bird friend—because he’s a Pharasman.

Of-fucking-course he’d be a Pharasman. Because this day couldn’t get any worse.

[supercimi]

my kitten

(to anyone who maybe scrolling this is not a story nor is it a rant but its written for myself by me so skip if you want)

my little cute kitty who i miss very dearly i hope you're okay wherever you've gone to, we've searched for you for the past week yet we still can't find you,but I'm still hoping that you're alive and well somewhere even if it's not by my side.

i wish i had petted you more, i wish i had played with you more.

i wish i had looked out for you more.

i know there's sadly millions of lost cats out there other than you, i know i still have your siblings, i know that you getting lost doesn't mean you're gone (i pray it doesn't) i know that maybe life outside would be better for you than our small home and you might even find a better home to stay at. knowing how charming you are that wouldn't be so far fetched... still, i will never stop missing you.

although my family doesn't completely believe me I think your brothers miss you too.

you all are such mischievous and energetic little kittens you kept running all over the place playing tag with each other and with others, stealing snacks or playing in any box you'd find like it's some kind of jungle or something and you my kitten would even steal lollipops or candy from us! you even managed to gnaw it open and munch on it! i hope you're not eating anything weird wherever you may be it can't be good for you!

you know .. your brothers aren't as energetic as before.

they don't play a lot anymore, they also became more close to each other and if one is not there the other mews until he finds him or he mews back... you used to really hate it and mew loudly if your siblings were in one room and you were alone in another even if I'm with you...maybe they picked it up from you?

sometimes they don't eat much... or maybe that's just me putting too much on their plates? haha

i didn't get used to putting just two portions of kitten food yet...

my little kitten i know it's dangerous out there but i pray with all my heart that you will be alright and be well fed and safe.. and i know its simply my selfishness and I know it's not good to be so insistent... still i pray that you will come back home to us.

and even if you don't come back I will always love you and pray for your safety.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[kingghoost]

Posting this Cybertronian Ratchet design because all the drawings I have ready forward use/reference it ^^

I made it awhile ago and it may not be super creative, but I actually didn't wanna change his design too much to portray how he himself doesn't change as a person (not in a bad way, he holds firmly to his beliefs and has a strong character💞)

I wrote a little backstory, too!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

" Long before the war, Ratchet was one of the many medics stationed in Kaon with the task of nursing fallen gladiators back to health. Though he was considered the best, many feared his temperamental attitude, especially his own patients. Despite the coincidence, Megatronus and Ratchet had never actually interacted face to face, although they were aware of each other's existence. That is, until they had both been introduced through their mutual friend, Orion Pax.

With the little free time he had, Ratchet was one to frequently travel to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records, whether to spend his time reading or doing research on personal projects. Then, he met Orion at his workplace, and the two quickly formed a strong bond. When they weren't hanging out in person, they would keep contact via comms (sorta like online friends.) One fateful day, Orion had taken some time off of work to visit Ratchet in Kaon, coincidentally at the same time Megatronus had started to make a name for himself and his cause. This resulted in him witnessing one of Megatronus' speeches live, thus allowing them to meet and form a partnership as well.

In a way, Orion Pax changed Ratchet. Being surrounded by corruption and oppression from the caste system where it was at its worst, Ratchet had given up any hopes of a better Cybertron. However, Orion's altruistic nature inspired him, guided him to prove his mettle in the Great War, and binded him to Orion's—now Optimus'—side for millennia, and many more to come. "

Corny? I'm not sure. The writing's not all that good because of its age, but getting the point across is all that matters..

I really love the idea of a Kaonian Ratchet 💞💞

Ratchet being an indirect cause to Orion and Megatronus meeting is super interesting to me as well... do you think after all that happened, he feels at fault? In the episode where Ratchet was telling everyone about Optimus' backstory, he seemed to have nothing but bad things to say about Megatron, so they probably never got along since the beginning...

[transrevolutions]

french revolution dashboard simulator

🐀 ami-du-peuple Follow

uh actually man has the right to deal with his oppressors by devouring their beating hearts. hope this helps.

🎩 departicle Follow

Hold up. Okay. Actually, fuck this. This sort of violent rhetoric should not be tolerated on here. Do you seriously think this sort of thing is going to make the nobility give you more rights???? You must be out of your minds! Reported.

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

reblog to devour this guy's beating heart

#username checks out lmao #politics #everybody point and laugh #common adp w

6,178 notes

organt-deactivated06151792

update: new canto out now!!! go check it out 😈😏🥀 (remember don't like don't read <3)

📜 sacredhostreceipts Follow

@centuriesandskies this you?? not such a great look for a convention rep ngl

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

listen. I wrote this a long time ago, before I went into serious politics. the account is deactivated for a reason.

I was twenty. I did poorly. I can do better.

#sj.txt #if this is the worst dirt you can dig up on me #i'm way less corrupt than half the people in the convention these days #at least i'm not doing fucking. embezzlement. #also sacredhostreceipts if you're who i think you are #don't you have better things to do rn?

231 notes

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

why the fuck is everyone tagging this with french??? political figures?

#what the hell is going on over there #also maybe cool it with the death threats #I don't want this blog to get taken down #what's a girondin #is this some joke I'm not french enough to understand #showdown update

5,012 notes

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

Unpopular opinion but why is everyone so up in arms about the new Civil Oath? Literally all it's asking is for you to promise not to commit treason just because the Pope tells you to? I can see where people are coming from with the whole violation-of-religion deal, but can you blame the Assembly for trying to make sure the people aren't forcibly subjugated by the wealth of the nobility?

faith-first-alwaysdeactivated03011791

Sounds like something a heretic would say. To betray the Pope and king is to betray the will of God and your eternal soul! You should pray for forgiveness and pledge loyalty to the monarchy or have fun burning in hell. Sorry not sorry.

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

L + ratio + iirc the Bible says "it is easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven" (Matthew 19:24)

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

occasional based catholic moment, go off OP!

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

looked the faith-first-always guy's blog, he's like a massive anti-huguenot too 🙄 why is it always the prot-exclusive radical catholics smh

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

LMAOOOOO HE DEACTIVATED

#religion tag #percs fuck off #anyways op makes a valid point #reblog #percs dni

3,719 notes

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

she committee on my safety til I can't go public

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

I don't understand the joke, can someone explain please?? 🙂 Thank you!

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

is that fucking MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE?!!?!?!?

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

oh my god citizen robespierre I'm so sorry this was not meant to break containment lol I didn't even know you were on this site please forget you saw this

#this is the most embarassing moment of my life #literally sobbing rn #the original post is /j i prommy #i cannot be known as the citizen who had to explain this to the government

19,853 notes

🪓 indulgentsfuckoff Follow

fabre d'eglantine is NOT your poor little meow meow citizens he literally falsified decrees from the national convention and embezzled money to line his own pockets. I don't care how uwu babygirl you think he is he is a CRIMINAL who should be ARRESTED

💛 i-give-people-bread Follow

🥖🍞🥐

#baguette #loaf #croissant #i-give-people-bread #indulgentsfuckoff #silly

2,011 notes

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

fucking fed up with the constant threat of the swiss guard, I think it's time we got some gunpowder and weapons and took things into our own hands yknow what I'm saying

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

I'm no longer joking about this btw

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

update:

hopital

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

ok bc I've gotten like 50 asks about this: I am not injured and I am not in need of medical care. the punchline was that we stormed the fucking hotel des invalides to get guns and powder. didn't want to clarify the joke before now for security reasons but everyone knows about that and the bastille thing by now. please direct your money to people who actually need it.

#shouldve clarified the last post was /j #however I assumed yall knew this joke already #anyways #revolution #personal #500 #1k

1,930 notes

🌾 nopain-nograin Follow

got so high at the festivial 2day i thnk i saw hte suapreme being

#robespiere speech was prboably 🔥 #unforntuately i camt rember any of it #grainposting #oipum ehre is somtehing else thes days #memes

8,256 notes

🎨 jldavid-real-moved Follow

incredible speech from @springtimeofgovernment today at the jacobin club. nobody should be permitted to use their positions as civic leaders to commit crimes against the people, even under the guise of revolutionary fervor. if it comes to it, I too will drink the hemlock with him. for france. 🤝🤝

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

Thanks for your support, @jldavid-real

The situation over here is deteriorating really quickly, the representatives are getting violent and abandoning due process entirely. Anything you can do to stand with us now would be very appreciated. You do a lot of great work for the revolution, and I trust you completely.

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

@jldavid-real are you still there? We could really use your help right now.

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

boosting @springtimeofgovernment here, can confirm he's been injured in a skirmish at the hotel de ville, they're passing summary death sentences without trial, @jldavid-real where is the help you promised us??? the people of paris are our only hope now.

edit: of course he moved blogs. coward.

#sj.txt #disappointed yet unsurprised #marat would be ashamed of you #9 thermidor #update

15,794 notes

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

DNI if you support any of these groups/people or their actions: m0narchists, f3uillants, br1ssotins/g1rondins, th3rmidorians, b0napart1sts, h3nri du v3rgier (also goes by c0mte de r0chjacquelin), charl0tte c0rday, or lafay3tte

(h3bertists and dant0nists you're on thin ice. behave.)

#censored so they dont show up in the tags #dni #get your nasty ass ideologies off my page #won't hesitate to block and/or report any violators #pinned

52 notes

gracchus-babeufdeactivated05271797

reblog to make the directoire choke to death on their stupid fucking outfits

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

hey staff. yeah you. where did this blog go?? notfishgoujon and prairial-95 are gone as well?? cowards too afraid to show your faces lmao especially after the fucking mess the directoire's made of the country. bet you anything that staff are on their fucking payroll too iykwim at least the republic didn't tolerate fucking bribery

#this site's gone to the dogs since thermidor yr 2 #following the trend of the rest of the country tbh #i'll probably get nuked for posting this #if so i'm not making a new account #i'll just make a paleocities or smth #politics tag #reblog #don't play with me ik full well gb didn't delete his blog of his own free will #they also zero note glitched it #just when you think they can't stoop lower

0 notes

📕 spectrehauntingeurope Follow

it's been 50 fucking years since gracchus-babeuf (and the other CoE blogs) were deleted without warning and still no response from staff, the govt, or anything. the site's gone through a fuckton of ownership changes and still nothing.

we're working on a bit of a project (some of you might know abt it already), it's gonna be out prob in the next year or so. remember '89. remember '93 and '94. remember '97.

the people will rise again. it's only a matter of time. 🚩

-mod karl

[daydreams-after-dark]

Good things come in small packages

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 2k

A/n: Hey!!! It's finally here! My Mini Han oneshot (posted in a couple of instalments because I get too excited to share). The idea for Mini Han was born through a conversation with my girl @noellllslut (we always have the most unhinged thoughts). Then I wrote a little "imagining" here (which I’ve incorporated into this fic anyway, so you don’t have to read), which then sparked quite a bit curiosity amongst you sweet/filthy readers. Questions came, and I felt compelled to explore more of this theme.

I hope you enjoy this little fic. It's sweet and smutty, and as I kept writing, I fell in love with our dear y/n and Mini Hannie. I want one for myself tbh.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. “I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

To be continued…

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

------------------------------------------------------------

- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

[vanishingcherry]

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

[ladylannisterxo]

... the one where spence takes an interest

Pairings; Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Words; 0.6k

Warnings; one use of Y/N but this was written back before I stopped using it lol but other than that, none, just fluff!

Summary; {requested} "Not to pester you, I had this thought and wanted to share is all, but could you imagine talking to Spencer about something you're really excited about (like a movie/tv show/game or something) and the next day he starts talking to you in length about it, and it turns out he went home that night and read/watched everything he could on the subject."

A/N; goodness, I wrote this years ago on another blog and since I've been rewatching Criminal Minds, I figured I'd go ahead and post it again (cause why not?)... the one and only thing I ever wrote for Dr. Spencer Reid ajdhsakdshak

{ masterlist }

You didn't plan this. Really, you didn't. But you know how it goes when you start binging a new tv series: just one more episode... and then before you know it, it's 2:00am.

Now you're sitting in the bullpen. It's 8:00am and you're constantly rubbing at your tired eyes and chugging coffee like your life depends on it.

And Spencer is wearing a curious expression, already extrapolating possibilities as to what could have kept you awake last night.

But he doesn't mention it. Not when the team is discussing the new case, not even on the jet en route to your destination. He waits until it's just you and him, paired off to go talk to the medical examiner about the latest victim.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little tired."

He smiles warmly, offering you an amused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. "I gathered. What kept you up?"

"You know, I just..."

But then you realize you don't want to tell him, not really. To you, staying up super late to watch a tv show seems embarrassing when compared to how he most likely spent his night.

You imagine that he read around six books, most of which were probably in a language you didn't understand. Or maybe he called his mom to check in with her. Or maybe he had nightmares himself and so he thinks that's exactly what happened with you...

Any scenario you think of infinitely sounds better than oh, you know, I just stayed up super late watching some trashy guilty pleasure tv show because I have no self control.

"Nothing really," you settle on, "it's dumb."

"Try me."

So you cave, mostly because you're too tired to fight. He listens intently as you tell him about the new show you found, how it's completely ridiculous but it allows you to step out of your life for a bit and relax.

He doesn't say much, just nods along as you talk and before you know it, you've arrived at your destination and it's back to work.

Spencer actually doesn't mention your conversation again for the remainder of the case and finally, the unsub is in custody and the team is back home to enjoy a nice, long weekend.

You don't see or hear from Spencer during this time but first thing Monday morning, he's greeting you as you step off the elevator with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

... and then he tells you he spent the weekend watching the first season of the show you mentioned and to his surprise, he really enjoyed it.

To say you're confused is an understatement but you listen as he discusses every character and what he thinks of the current story arc.

"Spencer," you laugh, resting your hand on his arm and halting his speech. "Not that I'm not thrilled to talk about this but I really wasn't expecting you to go home and watch an entire season of a show just because I mentioned it."

He smiles sheepishly, eyes lingering on where your hand still rests on his arm.

"You were really excited about it though."

"And?"

"And it seemed important to you... so it's important to me."

A smile pulls itself across your face and you open your mouth to respond when you're both interrupted by Garcia letting you know there's another case.

"Hold that thought," you inquire.

"It's impossible for me to forget it."

And just like that, you're discussing trashy tv with Dr. Spencer Reid during any downtime that you're granted. You gush about your favorite character and he theorizes future story arcs while simultaneously pointing out behavioral inaccuracies.

"People do not speak like that in that kind of situation, Y/N."

"It's tv, Spence, it's supposed to be unrealistic. That's what makes it fun."

+ Bonus: if it's a series that is currently airing, you both come into the office the next morning and excitedly discuss every single thing that happened and then theorize on what could possibly happen next.