#anon burbles

[el-patito-de-los-ojos-triste]

You're so pretty and every time i see you i have no idea what to do with myself. How does one achieve these looks

Tenk u so muchies!!!

Really, i just got tired of the maintenance. Like hair cuts? Lame! Stop doing those.

But then I paid a little more attention to the things I still do. Still gotta wash my hair, so lemme find something that makes it super silky soft.

That plus pretty eyes <3

[cryptophasiac]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fall Out Boy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz Characters: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Joe Trohman, mentioned Andy Hurley Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sickfic, Album: Take This to Your Grave (Fall Out Boy), apartment era, Take This To Your Apartment, Loss of Virginity, Virginity, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, well the plot only exists as a vehicle for them to fuck nasty, not technically underage, patrick's freshly 18, pete's 23, canon age gap, Creepy Pete Wentz, Creampie, Unsafe Sex, blink and you miss it discussions of mpreg, but ill tag it to be safe, Implied Mpreg, Omega Verse, Omega Patrick Stump, Alpha Pete Wentz, Knotting, Barely Legal, Breeding Summary:

The peace in the Roscoe Park apartment is fragile. Pete knows that barging into Patrick’s room, especially around his heats, is a major faux pas. At first, Pete just really wants to make Patrick feel better when he’s sick. The second time he comes into Patrick’s room, there may be other things on his mind.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Soup Kitchen

Prologue =-= Next

Author's note: Su'cona's debut in Husbandry.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add any.

Summary: Su'cona is lost and found. Soup Kitchens are a nice thing.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Su'cona had been wandering on this planet for a while, he's kept count of the days, he's tried to send a message on the Vox and all he'd gotten back was static and he'd been glad to find some form of civilization, but none of the base line humans spoke any of the languages that he knew.

He'd listen to them quietly, he'd run out of rations, hydration and nutrition three days ago, and his stomach had started to complain to him loudly. Also his headache was reaching a wicked crescendo, as it made light of the sun, or artificial light agonizing, even with his helmet protecting his face.

He stopped as he smelled something really good and his stomach gurgled angrily at him as he headed towards the source of the delicious smell. There were a bunch of base line humans, some were nicely dressed and handing out brown paper bags filled with food, to humans that had a much rougher appearance.

He slowly, carefully approaches, there was also a nearly free standing cooking area that had a large cauldron of soup happily burbling and one of the humans who were in nearly identical uniform of some kind was carefully ladling out soup into bowls that other humans were gratefully taken with the paper bag of longer shelf-life lasting food.

One of the people handing out the free food spots him and gives him a bright smile and waves him over. Su'cona carefully approaches them with a tilt of his helmet and they offer him a steaming bowl of soup and the bag of food, a fruit, some vegetables, a sandwich of some kind in sealed plastic, and a metal can filled with something carbonated.

He gratefully accepts both things, even though he knows that it won't be nearly enough calories to fill his belly full, at least it will do something to keep the hunger partially at bay.

He takes of his helmet and murmurs, "Thank you kind one."

They babble at him and he nods to them, as he sits down and carefully eats the soup, it tastes so good, it's warm, hot and filled with vegtables and some kind of meat, the texture reminds him of poultry.

Then, he carefully eats the sandwhich, fruit, a bright red skinned fruit that was about half the size of his palm. He bites into it, eating half of it in one go, its sweet and crunchy and he finishes it swiftly. While the vegtables are a bright-dark green and have the taste of clorophil and growing things.

The metal can that has the metal drink is colorful, and he can tell that there is writing on it, but he doesn't read the local language, so he cracks it open how he sees the base line humans around him do and takes a sip, it fizzes and bubbles and is incredibly sweet with hints of citrus in it that is almost overwhelming, yet he's not going to let it go to waste as he finishes the whole fizzy drink in several large swigs. He carefully takes the refuse to one of the large trash bins nearby and then heads back over to the human.

"Is there a way I can help?" He asks them.

They talk to him in the local's tongue that he doesn't understand yet, before they gesture for him to help with moving some supplies, they look heavy, for a base line human.

But is easy enough for him to pick up and carry with his superior strength, he takes it to where they gesture and gently sets it down before starting to help serve base line humans in, what he hears is called a 'zoup kitchen'.

Giving food to those less fortunate is a good, kind act. One that his gene-father would be happy to participate in. One that he's happy to help with as they serve other base line humans for most of the day. He continues to help and some of the humans are almost tearful in how grateful they are for the food.

The leftovers are easily, happily handed over to the less fortunate humans who happily tote the rest of the food bags with them to other parts of this city. He helps the Zoup Kitchen staff clean up and he's happy to help.

One of the humans that is apart of the staff for the Zoup Kitchen, for some reason he feels like he should follow them. A warmth spreading in his soul as he got to watch them work and help others. Like a chain, or something looping around him and tying him to them.

It didn't feel forced, and from what he can tell of the base line human, they seem to be unaware of this strange spontaneous bond that has formed, and they don't seem as if they are a Psyker.

Several days later, and he continues to help at this Zoup Kitchen in order to have something to fill his belly with, an Ultramarine shows up and blinks at him and they talk about the State of Things, and he says goodbye to his human for a moment- he will go with the Ultramarine to the nearest base for more information, before going back to his human.

Learning about when and where they are is… quite the shock. Also, learning about how the Space Marines are from, as near as anyone can tell every when and everywhere and that… well… He wonders just how messy things might, could get with the Space Marines from before the Heresy, while those during and post Heresy have a lot of… dark, grim portents to inform the others as needed.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Change | Changing | Changed?

Sooo Ive read Change like 10 times and though I love ALL your fics, that one gained a special place in my heart as soon as you posted it. I really vibe with Roman (maybe I am autistic…) and I love projecting onto him and watching him suffer. Anyway I was wondering if you feel like it or had any ideas, if we could get a third chapter? Maybe more about how the others react to finding out what Patton and Janus did to Roman, or more protective Ollie! <3 – stealing-babies

Had this concept idea hit me: Patton (as part of being Thomas’s emotions) is hypersensitive to the effects of the other sides's rooms + the imagination. No idea what one could do with that but thought it was neat enough to share. – ax3-e0ns

Have you seen the new incorrect quotes? I feel like there could be some Roman angst/hurt/comfort potential, either with Logan or Janus, what with the stress ball or the 4am chocolate pudding scene – anon

Hey, I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a fic where Roman’s actually the one who finally snaps and goes off on everyone about he himself has been treated? I don’t see enough of the boy standing up for himself for a change. No worries if not! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: panic attacks/dissociation

Pairings: none

Word Count: 7191

Roman is over the top, bombastic, and enthusiastic. He is prone to fits of passion and emotional outbursts. Such is the nature of Creativity. But the others...don't like that. They aren't exactly ambiguous about it either. Or, Roman struggles to walk the line between being himself and being something the others can tolerate. It gets far worse before it gets any better. Getting better takes...a long time

The deepness of the Imagination's oceans vary according to the demands of its various creatures. On this day, when Red Prince is too quiet and a little too sad, Oliver the Kraken decides that the ocean needs to be as vast and monstrous as it can be. He takes Red Prince in his arms, cradling him against his bulbous body to afford him protection within his aura from the crushing depths, swimming down, down, down, past the shoals of fish and pods of whales to the hidden tunnel near the base of the great cliffs. The water here is icy cold, lit only by the sparse bio-luminescence of the deep-sea folk, briefly illuminating the jagged rock walls and mountainous sea terrain. Oliver moves through as silently as a monolith of his size can, Red Prince held delicately in the safety of his grip. As they reach the end of the tunnel, it begins to curve upwards, a faint violet light coming from someplace above the surface of the water.

The Kraken breaches with a soft splash in the hidden cavern, lit by the glowing crystals growing along the walls and the ceiling. Red Prince lets out a breath, sagging in his grip, his tiny fingers stroking the bumps and scars along his skin. The cavern rings with the quiet music of water lapping against the crystals and the slight breeze that blows through their hollows, interrupted by the sloshing sounds of him swimming toward the island in the center of this sheltered cove. Small piles of glowstone highlight the soft white sand underneath flowering trees. The faint smell of them wakes Red Prince from the stupor he had been in since entering the Imagination, and he reaches for them as Oliver nears the island.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he mumbles as he's deposited on a patch of pale green grass.

Of course, Red Prince. You know that you will be safe here, whenever you want to be. He shifts his arms around to prop himself up a little. I will not let any harm come to you.

"I know." Still, Red Prince shuffles a little, tugging his limbs close to himself. "I just—I suppose it's stupid."

Nothing is stupid to me, Red Prince, not if it concerns your well-being.

"Are—you like spending time with Remus too, right?"

Oliver burbles quietly, the water frothing around his arms. Yes, Red Prince, I do. And despite that, I do not favor him anymore than you.

The hidden meaning seen, Red Prince's shoulders relax and a small smile comes to his face. Oliver reaches out to lay an arm within Red Prince's reach and his hand rests on it. Little birds twitter in the trees. The crystal song changes pitch.

You need not fear anything here, he says again, and you may stay as long as you like. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds knows you are here as well, even though she cannot get here. Is there anything else I can do for you, in this moment?

"I—I don't know." He curls up a little tighter. "I'm just…I'm just really scared. And it feels like nothing I do even helps make it go away."

The water bubbles again as his arms churn. What does it feel like? Does it feel like the type of fear that Green Duke makes?

"Sort of? I just—I keep waking up sick to my stomach like something bad's going to happen, like, bad enough that I don't want to wake up anymore."

That is worrisome indeed. The arm wraps around him and tugs him slightly back toward the water. I regret that I cannot hold you the way you might desire.

"This is great, Ollie, you're…you're great." Red Prince now sits near one of the piles of glowstone, turning to rest his cheek upon it. "I think I'm…I think I'm tired."

The bone-weary ache of his words ring through the cavern. A few birds flutter down to perch on the rock, making soft chirps as they run their beaks through Red Prince's hair. Red Prince's smile brightens just a smidge.

"Thank you, little birds."

You know that we all would gladly give you whatever you need, Oliver says, there is nothing you could ask of us that we would not try to provide to you.

"I know."

Although none of us have arms that would embrace you, would you like to be held still?

"Yes, please."

It would be our pleasure.

It is not a simple thing for a Kraken to embrace Red Prince, but Red Prince is sad and upset and in need of comfort, and so he takes two arms and wraps them gently around Red Prince and the pile of glowstone. The pile is not the most forgiving of surfaces, but glowstone is warm to the touch and yields ever so slightly if pressed. Red Prince does not seem to mind, closing his eyes as a soft sigh leaves his lips. The birds perch on his head and shoulders. One of them settles into the crook of his neck, a wing brushing his cheek. He turns his head and his lips brush the tip of its beak. It chirps.

"Not the most fairytale of places," Red Prince mumbles, "but I do like this a lot."

We do specialize in the unconventional, Red Prince, and if I may speak for the birds, we all are quite happy to stay here for as long as you need.

The ocean is vast and hungry, monsters swim its depths and light vanishes from the waters far before it approaches the entrance to the hidden cavern. But here, in the quiet light of the crystal cave, Red Prince is safe for the moment and Oliver is content.

***

At the very tops of the mountains, high beyond the clouds, grow small trees no taller than a bush that could grow anywhere else. The trees have soft and warm bark from the sun's warmth, for there is little cover up there amongst the flat planes of rock and stone. She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds nests at the very peak, between the trees, sleeping in the light of the endless spinning galaxies of stars. The wind blows cold in the darkness of storms alone, where the clouds can rise high enough to block out the infinite skies. Otherwise, the sweet warm gusts of wind waft the secrets of the valleys up, up, where she may peruse them in comfort and safety.

It makes it far easier to rest easy when she has her charge nestled against her chest, humming a quiet song to keep her company.

I have missed your voice, Red Prince, she says gently, I cannot say I have heard it nearly enough in the recent times you have come.

"I haven't really felt like singing all that recently."

I know, says she, and leans down to nuzzle her snout against his chest, is there anything I can do?

"Just sitting here with you is nice. I haven't really had a lot of places that I feel safe enough to just exist in for a while."

The now familiar tingle of irritation flickers down her scales and she lays her head down next to him, watching him fiddle with a small amulet—from the kindly man who lives deep in the woods, no doubt, he had long ago taken a liking to Red Prince and provided him with many gifts and trinkets. She puffs a small smoke ring. What is this one for?

"He said it was to bring a sense of comfort to me." He runs his thumb over the engraving, the shape of a blooming flower worked beautifully into the metal. "I don't know if it was just supposed to be figuratively or if there's some magic in it, but…I like it."

It is a most thoughtful gift. Partway between sentiment and practicality, is it not?

Red Prince smiles. "Yes, it is."

Then it is perfect for one such as you. She nudges him with her snout to make him chuckle. Perhaps he has been refining his gift-giving for you intentionally.

"I didn't come here to be teased," he protests, but it is only lightly, and she relents as soon as she began, turning her head to rest once more towards the edge of the mountain to sniff the breeze. "I…I said thank-you, and that I'd be…interested to learn from him."

Her ears prick up slightly. Oh? I did not know you would be interested in such a craft.

"I'm trying new things."

It does not take a dragon of superior wit and mind to know that Red Prince has long be afraid of sharing new things with Those-Who-Do-Not-Shape, and as such, has even hesitated to try something in the safety of the Imagination. Her chest warms with contentment, a low and pleased rumble thrumming through the surrounding stone. Red Prince smiles. She turns once more to press her snout into Red Prince's stomach.

Words cannot express how pleased I am to hear that, Red Prince.

"Yeah," he says quietly, "I know. I…yeah."

The breezes forgotten for the moment, she sighs happily and lets Red Prince run the medallion across the ridges of her snout. I do not wish to push you, but I have questions if you would answer them.

"I trust you."

I will not abuse it, Red Prince, you have my word. She shifts her tail to curl it around him, adding another degree of safety even atop this mountain where none else would dare to tread. Does Green Duke still help you?

"Remus is great. He's—he's really helpful, he's—I wouldn't—I don't think I'd be able to do any of this without Remus."

What does he do to help, if you would tell me?

"He helps take the heat off me when I need it, or he's always there to help me escape if I need to. He also helps me explain what's going on with me or—or if I need to do things a different way than what they want."

I see. Are you…safe with him?

"I've never not been safe with Remus."

She lets out a quiet growl, not quite a reprimand, not quite not a reprimand. You were frightened when he came upon you on the grass, where The Deep One and I were tending to you.

"Yeah, but that wasn't—that wasn't really because of him, it was…I think it was…"

Even now, just speaking of it, Red Prince hunches in on himself, curling up in the lea of her. With another soft rumble, she moves them a little closer to one of the small trees, affording him something to clutch if he needs it. He rests his cheek against the warm soft bark, taking in the shade. She gives him the time he needs, but keeps up the gentle rumble of her breath to ground him.

"…I was scared of him being there because the others would—because I thought they would just immediately be mad at me, not because I thought Remus would hurt me."

And the others, do they still frighten you?

Red Prince lets out a long sigh, slumping against the tree and her chest in turn. He looks like the little child whose favorite toy has floated away in the river, and the old man who has seen a thousand thousand years and still must watch the sunrise.

"Yes," he says with that voice of infinite sadness, "every day."

I am sorry, Red Prince, that I cannot always protect you from the hurt they cause you.

"It's not your fault. I know…I know most of it's my fault."

No, she says firmly, raising her head up to look him in the eye, it is not your fault, Red Prince, you are scared and hurt, and that is not and never will be a burden that falls on your shoulders and your shoulders alone. You are scared, that is true, and you are hurt, that is true. But you have been taught to be scared and hurt, and you are far too gentle of a soul to have done that to yourself.

Red Prince sniffles and oh, her intention was not to make him cry, and so she leans forward to gently lick away his tears. He tucks the medallion into his pocket and hugs her back, the tears subsiding quickly as he falls into a doze against her heat.

You are welcome to come back here, Red Prince, whenever you need.

"Will you take care of me like this if I do?"

Yes, of course I will.

***

Patton sits next to him on the couch and Roman immediately tucks the medallion into his pocket on the far side of his leg. He can tell by the way Patton shifts that he notices it, but doesn't say anything. Remus comes over a moment later and sits on his other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a smacking kiss to his head.

"Hey, Roro."

"Hi."

"You doing okay today?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Across the room, Janus gives him a look but doesn't say anything. After another moment, he gets up and ruffles Remus's hair, kissing Roman's forehead. Roman tenses a little and Janus doesn't seem to take any offense, moving away and sitting next to Logan. "Well, shall we decide what movie we're watching tonight?"

"I'm partial to something along the lines of The Imitation Game," Logan says, looking up from his notebook, "but I am aware that we've been going with my choices quite a few times over these past few weeks."

"I'd be down with watching that," Virgil says, "but I think I'd rather—I mean if we're throwing out choices, I wanna put Pacific Rim out there."

"Ooh, I do like watching giant robots punch giant aliens." Remus nudges Roman. "What about you, Roro?"

"Um, I don't really have an opinion right now."

"Okay." Janus says quickly before anyone can say anything else, "that's fine, sweetie. What about something like one of the documentaries we've been working through?"

"That sounds great," Patton says, but Roman can tell he's still looking at him, "Roman, does that work for you?"

"Yeah, I like documentaries."

"Settled, then." Logan stands up and fetches his laptop, beginning to hook it up to the TV. "Roman, would you mind helping the—"

"Yep."

He doesn't give anyone the time to say anything else, immediately going over to Logan's side to fiddle with the cords and make sure everything's good. Behind him, he can feel the eyes creeping up his back and rounds his shoulders. Logan touches his back lightly in thanks as he finishes, quickly going back over to let Remus lie on top of him. Janus chuckles at the two of them even as Patton yelps, quickly getting up and going to sit by Virgil.

"Sweetie? Can I play with your hair?"

"Um, if you want to."

"Thank you." Gloved fingers begin to scritch lightly through his hair and he closes his eyes, letting Remus's weight sink him into the couch. The sensation is soft and makes his brain go a little fuzzy, and he thinks that maybe he'll fall asleep here, before the documentary starts…

"Is everything ready?"

Patton's voice wrenches him back to wakefulness and he knows that Virgil, Janus, and Remus can all sense it. Remus lets out a quiet growl, holding him a little tighter. Janus kisses his fingertips and ruffles his hair again. Roman keeps his eyes open for the rest of the documentary and there's a sickness curdling in his stomach that he can't quite shake.

"Hey," Remus whispers when the documentary is loud, "hey, Roro, just stay with me, okay? Just hang out."

"I'm trying."

"I know, and you're doing great. Hey, can you name all the colors on the screen right now?"

He turns his head and looks at the animals, the plants, the skies. "Brown…white…purple…green…blue…black, yellow, red, and pink."

"Hey, nice, good job." Remus nuzzles into his neck. "You're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother."

"So?" He nuzzles into him again and it tickles. "You giggling down there, Roro?"

Roman glimpses Logan glancing at them and braces himself to be scolded, but Logan only smiles fondly at them and shakes his head, looking back at the screen. Remus follows his gaze and huffs, flopping down like a cat and making a show of being comfortable while shielding Roman's head from everyone else.

"You're safe," he whispers into his ear, "you're safe, I've got you, nothing's gonna hurt you right now."

There's nothing like this in the Imagination, Roman knows, nothing like this comforting weight and warmth and safety that he can't really get from the dragon or Ollie or anything else. He curls into Remus and tries to lose himself in the documentary. It's interesting, something about how these animals have adapted to living in urban environments. But he sees a rat scurry through a dark, dank alleyway, and can't help but feel like he's recognizing something in himself.

***

"Remus," Logan calls, walking down the hall, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

"What's up, Lolo?"

"Can we…" He indicates Remus's door. "Would you mind if we spoke somewhere more private?"

Remus nods and opens his door, welcoming Logan inside. Logan fiddles with a notebook, turning pages back and forth. After a while, he sighs and looks up.

"I have a question about Roman, and I want you to know that I don't intend to cause him hurt by investigating this information."

Remus raises an eyebrow. "Well, this definitely doesn't make me incredibly inclined to help you."

"I don't think it's anything that you did, if that's any consolation."

"It's not, but proceed."

Logan sighs. "Can I have your word that you will not immediately attempt to cause me physical harm when I ask this question?"

"I will not immediately break your spine, no."

"Is that the best I'm going to get?" Remus grins a little two widely and he sighs again. "I suppose that's a yes. Very well: I am…concerned that something has happened between Patton, Janus, and Roman, and I don't know what to do."

Remus takes a deep breath and sits down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's he told you already?"

"Something stemmed from the incident between the three of them when Thomas was still uncomfortable with his homosexuality, but I don't know—"

"The 'incident,' is that what he called it?"

"…no, that's my word for it."

"'Cause it was a fucking incident, alright." He reaches out and grabs a squid ink sac. It bursts in his hand. "That was—shit, and you and Emo didn't learn about this until later, did you?"

"I was not aware of an incident until Roman told me about it recently."

Remus growls at him and he steps back with his hands raised. "You mean that Roman was physically locked out of the Imagination for months, and you guys didn't fucking notice?"

Logan's expression drops. The notebook clatters to the floor. "Roman was what?"

"How the fuck did you not know about it? The Imagination—shit, Lolo—"

"No, I knew that Roman didn't go into the Imagination for a while, but I didn't—I was not aware that it was because his entrance was prohibited. What—why—"

"Because Roman's existence hasn't actually been appreciated by everyone around here for a long time and things like stuff he needs to do to stay alive are viewed as privileges that can be revoked."

Guilt and regret tremble at the corners of Logan's mouth and he adjusts his glasses. "I know I have played no small part in this—"

"No shit."

"—but I didn't…Remus, you must understand, I never meant to…I had nothing to do with this. I didn't know. I wasn't—I don't—I wouldn't—Roman is Creativity, how would I—"

"I believe you," Remus says quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, "I know, Logan, I know."

Logan lets out a shuddering breath, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "I apologize. I did not foresee myself becoming this upset."

"Yeah, I know."

"The…the incident, if I may still call it that—"

"That's fine, yeah."

"—would I be incorrect in assuming that it was not the only one of its kind?"

"Well, they never tried to banish Roman from the Imagination again, that's for fucking sure." Remus shakes his head. "God, I've never—I've never fucking seen Roman like that before and I never want to see him like that again. But yeah, Lolo, I don't—you're smart enough to know that Patton and Janus have been holding some sort of power over Roman for a long time."

"Yes."

"That's not an accident. Roman's really vulnerable to stuff like that—and you need to know that I'm telling you this because if this somehow gets back to them," he continues, tightening his grip on Logan's shoulder, "I'm going to know exactly where it came from."

"I won't betray your confidence."

"You'd better fucking not. Yeah, Roro's the Ego—he's fragile in ways that Patton and Janus can exploit. Uniquely exploit, because Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination to a certain extent, and Janus…"

"Janus knows Roman," Logan says softly, "and that is perhaps all he needs."

"Yeah."

"You said Patton can feel what's going on in the Imagination?"

"Well, Thomathy isn't exactly unaffected by what happens in the Imagination, nor is he immune to what his Ego does to take care of him. So when Roro's trying to make himself feel better, Thomas can feel it, which means Patton can feel it."

"So Patton knows when Roman's trying to cheer himself up."

"Yeah."

"How…how is this a bad thing?"

"Well, if you have a conversation with someone and they immediately run to make themselves feel better…"

Logan's expression shutters and his jaw sets. He adjusts his tie and covers Remus's hand with his own. "I don't know what else I can do for Roman, especially since I have contributed to the pain he has felt, but if there is anything, please, tell me?"

Remus looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He seems to be content by what it is that he's found, however, and nods sagely with a seriousness that seems almost foreign to him. Logan nods back and picks up his notebook.

"Is there anything else that I should know?"

"Not right now, I don't think."

"Can I…is Roman in the Imagination right now?"

"Why?"

"I…wanted to tell him that I had an idea for another board game I think he and I could play together. You could play it with us too!" They start moving toward the doors. "It's a mystery horror themed thing—"

"Sold!"

"Remus, I didn't even explain what it—"

"You said 'mystery' and 'horror.' Lolo, I'm in already."

***

"I'm sorry, he did fucking what?"

Logan puts his hands on Roman's shoulders and a different shudder goes through him, one triggered by the dry warmth as opposed to the near flinch in response to Virgil's shout. He leans into the touch as much as he can.

Virgil, of course, senses his fear, and quiets immediately, slouching a little to make himself seem smaller. "Hey, I'm sorry, Princey, I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay."

"It's not," Logan says softly, "and that's alright too."

"L's right." Virgil even goes so far as to ease himself into a seated position on the other side of the room. "I know how bad yelling can be for you, Princey. I'm—shit, I'm just really upset for you right now."

Roman peeks out at him under his hair, surprised to see a soft smile on Virgil's face. After a moment, he holds out a hand, and Virgil gets up and ambles over. He sits down next to the base of Roman's chair, tangling his fingers with his. He gives a few reassuring squeezes and Roman squeezes back.

"Can I—so obviously I'm gonna try not to shout again, but can Remus keep telling me about this incredibly fucked up thing that happened to you?"

Roman nods. Logan squeezes his shoulder. He drifts away again, for he has no need to relive this more than he already does, focusing on the comfort of Logan's touch and the way that Virgil squeezes his hands every once in a while. Remus's voice stays low and even, but there's an undercurrent of steel that doesn't quite vanish even when the words never raise louder than the low thud of the wind against the walls of the Imagination's cabin.

"—incey? Princey?" Roman blinks. Virgil looks up at him. There's a furrow between his brows but he makes an effort to smile. "Hey, there he is. I'm so fucking sorry, Princey, that's fucked up. That's really fucked up, and I'm sorry that I've—I'm sorry that I've ever had anything to do with making this worse. I don't really—I'm not great with words, but I—"

Roman squeezes his hand. "You didn't do it to me, I don't…I don't blame you for that."

"But I've been doing the same sort of shit. Hey, hey," and here his voice softens a little when Roman goes to protest, "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm not trying to run my own fucking pity party over here, I just—fuck, Princey, you're owed so many fucking apologies about all this shit, okay?"

A lump suddenly appears in his throat. He swallows heavily.

"Oh, hey, hey, c'mere…" Warm arms wrap around him and he's leant back into a strong chest. "Hey, it's okay, you can cry, Princey, that's okay."

"Shh, little one," Logan murmurs when Roman starts to try to apologize, "you're safe here. You're doing very well."

There's a soft thwoop sound and he peeks out to see Remus has summoned a massive mattress on the floor of the cabin. The windows are open, the late-afternoon breeze blowing in with the soft sweet smell of grass and flowers. Virgil and Logan must've had some sort of silent conversation, for he's lifted up into two pairs of strong arms and laid down on the mattress. Remus tucks a blanket over them and then gleefully flops down, much to the surprise and chagrin of the other two.

"Hey!"

"Remus!"

"Cat pile time, everyone hush and cuddle Ro."

Roman chuckles, a little watery, but snuggles into the midst of the three of them. Logan sighs, far too fondly, and presses a kiss to his temple. Virgil scoots a little further away so none of them are at risk of losing circulation, still holding onto Roman's hand.

"I vote that we don't talk about this anymore for right now," Logan says quietly, "all in favor?"

"Me."

"Also me."

"Yeah," Roman mumbles, "can…can we just stay here for a while?"

"Of course, little one."

***

"Sweetie," he hears distantly, "sweetie, it's alright, it's just me, I'm not here to hurt you, can you open your eyes for me?"

Roman opens his eyes. He's lying on the floor in the hallway. It's dark. Someone is leaning over him.

"Sweetie," he hears again, "sweetie, can you say something?"

"J-Janus?"

"There you are, my sweet prince." Janus smiles and cups his face. "Can I help you sit up for me, sweetie? I don't think the hallway is very comfortable at this point at night. There's nothing wrong with sleeping on the floor, believe me, but I think a fine prince such as yourself would be better suited to your bed."

Roman blinks again. "I'm…on the floor?"

"Yes, sweetie, you're on the floor. Do you remember how you got here?"

"I was…I was in the kitchen."

"Yes, that's right. You were making chocolate pudding."

"Why was I making chocolate pudding?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I believe you said it was because you've lost all control."

"That does sound like me."

He chuckles. "Now, sweet prince, can we see if we can sit you up? Come, come, lean on me…that's it, there you are."

Roman blinks a few more times as he slowly lifts himself up, holding onto Janus's shoulders. Janus slips more of his arms around his waist to help him, murmuring more encouragement in his ear as he goes. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sits up, leaning now against the wall. Janus crouches there with him, tucking his hair back behind his ear.

"Janus?"

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, sweet prince?"

"I was—I'm—I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not angry with you, sweet prince," Janus says gently, "I promise. I'm only worried—can we get you to bed?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Sweetie, I'm not asking you because I have some obligation, I'm worried, and I want you to be safe in your bed so you can rest." He leans down and kisses his forehead and everything is fuzzy for Roman, and he doesn't know what to do, but warm touches are warm touches and he's always been weak to a soft voice with gentle words. "So?"

"…okay."

He leans against Janus's side as they move down the hallway, opening the door into Roman's room. He pulls back the covers and lies down, leaning to help tuck him under the sheets. "There you are, sweet prince, is that better?"

"Why…why're you only nice to me when there's no one else around?"

Something shutters across his expression before it settles on something terribly sad. "I don't know, sweetie. I'm—I'm trying to be better about it, but I seem to keep messing it up."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Janus." His voice grows thick. "I don't know whether you're going to be nice to me or hurt me."

The bed dips as Janus sits down near his head, still carding his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Roman. I'm so, so sorry."

"You hurt me, Janus," and now he begins to sniffle, "you—you keep hurting me."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm sorry."

Janus doesn't move away, not as Roman sniffles and sobs his way through saying how much pain Janus has caused him, not when he tells him how difficult it is to keep moving forward, not even when he says how scared he is right now, with his belly showing and Janus's teeth at his metaphorical throat. He just sits there, listening, pressing kisses to Roman's hands and cheeks.

***

"Patton?"

"What is it, Roman?"

"Shut up."

Virgil mutters oh, shit. Logan takes a deep breath. Janus's shoulders tense. Remus steps closer.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Roman says through gritted teeth, "shut up. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You don't get to talk over me like that. You don't get to act like I'm just some good-for-nothing spoiled kid that doesn't know anything."

"Now, Roman—"

"No. I've had to sit here and have you talk at me for ages. You're gonna listen to me for once." His hands ball into fists. "You don't get to act like you're the one who's always going to be right. You don't get to do that, not to me. You don't get to act like I'm the one who always comes into this sort of thing with a preconceived notion of how it's going to go. I'm the one who's tried with you. I've tried so many times to just talk to you and you never listen to me."

"That's not—"

"It is. It is true, because every fucking time I have to walk away from those 'conversations' with bruises all over me because you can't be bothered to think about what your words do to me. Because they hurt, Patton, and you don't get to act like they don't. You don't get to act like you don't know what you're doing when you tell me I'm stupid or petty or a bully, you don't get to act like you're hurting me because you don't have a choice or that it's my fault I'm getting hurt."

Remus brushes against his arm. A silent keep going.

"You don't get to act like you don't know why I'm scared of talking to you sometimes, not when you've claimed the authority to remove my fucking coping mechanisms like they're some luxury that you think I don't deserve anymore. You don't get to hold that shit over my head like you have the right to it. No, I don't want to talk about this stuff with you. No, I don't feel safe to talk about with you, and no, I don't feel bad about saying any of that because it's true."

"Those are very hurtful things to say, Roman."

"It's hurtful to tell someone they're wrong when you haven't even taken the time to actually listen to them. It's hurtful to invite someone to a 'conversation' and then just lecture them the whole time. It's hurtful to hold someone's insecurity over their head for actual fucking years and use it whenever you want because it's a convenient way to make someone listen to you."

Patton just looks at him. Roman's breath suddenly catches in his throat. He's yelling at Patton. He's yelling at Patton.

"He's right, Patton," he hears Virgil say, "you're—I'm not gonna say the rest of us are blameless here, but you're really unfair to Roman sometimes and that's not cool."

"And now, how am I supposed to react to all of these accusations? Are you all going to gang up on me now?"

"We're not ganging up on you," Logan says, "the rest of us have barely said anything."

"But you're not disagreeing with Roman."

"No, we're not, because he's right." Remus squeezes Roman's shoulder. "And you know he's right."

"I don't think it's right that he's making me out to be this big bad guy who's trying to hurt him on purpose!"

"I don't think it's right to act like we don't know what they're talking about," Janus says softly, and Patton turns to look at him, "you know we've been unfair to Roman, Patton. We've been cruel to him, almost, and even if we didn't know the effects of what we did when we did them, I think we both know better now."

"Why are you looping me in with you?"

"Because the reason Roman was so receptive to praise and positive attention was because it was so foreign to him he didn't even think to question it," he says, voice a tad sharper now, "and there's really only one person who could've started such a thing."

Patton goes quiet for a long, long moment. Then he looks at Roman. Roman flinches just at that look.

"Roman? Is…are you…did I really make this a lot worse for you?"

Trap. This is a trap. This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap.

"You can tell me," Patton says, which doesn't make him think it's any less of a trap, but then Janus nods at him and he manages to swallow.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, it's—it's really bad, Patton."

Silence. Remus squeezes his shoulder tightly. There's a roar of blood in his ears. Distantly, he hears Virgil mumble something to Logan and Logan starts talking. They're all talking now, but Roman can't say a thing. He's so scared. He's so scared. He's going to pass out. He's going to throw up. He's going to have a sword thrust into his chest and split his ribs.

"Roman," he hears Remus say, cutting through the fog, "Roro, you did great. You did it, it's over now. If you need to run and hide, you can. We'll take care of it. It'll be okay."

He thinks more than says I can go?

"Yeah, Roro, you can go."

Roman's gone in the blink of an eye.

***

The forest is dark. There is no moon. The sky is black. The trees loom over the clearing. The wind is bitingly cold. The grass crunches and snaps. No living creature dares move.

Roman curls up on his knees in the middle of the clearing. The wind whips across his bare skin so harshly it feels like a blade. In the dark of the night, there is no refuge from the biting cold, no place where he could go and be free of the pain ravaging him inside and out. Breath shudders out of him in pitiful clouds of steam. He shakes and trembles.

The reverberations of the approaching footsteps are so powerful that he feels them deep in his chest.

With jerky movements, he looks up. It's difficult to tell at first what's different, just because the mass is so large it's hard to distinguish it from the surrounding sky, but as he moves, the faint silhouette of the wolf becomes discernible from the forest. Glowing eyes gleam down at him, light reflecting off of the fangs, as the enormous paws come to a stop right in front of him. His head bows, his snout lowering to breath warm air across Roman's frigid form.

The wolf, unlike the other creatures in the Imagination, does not speak. Not in the way that Oliver or She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds speaks. But he knows Roman, more perhaps than any aside from Remus, and so he needn't speak to be able to communicate. He leans down, taking Roman's limp form in between his giant teeth, beginning to carry him through the woods. His tongue presses against Roman's freezing arms, trying to convey some warmth back into him, but he is too massive and too focused on carrying him to safety to be able to do something more right now.

There is no fear sweeter than the kind that curls in Roman's stomach at this moment, for what could be more terrifying than the one that carries him in his jaws? They move through the dark forest, over fallen logs and past trickling streams, deeper still into a thicket where the warm air from the valleys below has created a dense fog. A few skittering noises as different small critters move away from the wolf's path. They reach the base of a cliff and he recognizes the entrance to the wolf's den.

He's carried into the den, laid down on soft moss next to a small fire. The warmth licks at his limbs as the wolf lies down with a growl, circling him with his bulk. Roman turns and snuggles into the soft fur of the wolf's belly, hearing another soft growl that sounds almost like a huff of endearment. The fire snaps and crackles, a soothing noise as the wolf's heart beats steadily against his side. He continues to let out low huffs and growls, reassuring Roman of his presence and safety in this moment.

The fear re-surges. He retches, clapping a hand over his mouth. He curls up tighter, as if he could squeeze it from himself. The wolf growls again, a little louder, and his tails flicks up to almost cover him as though it were a blanket. He knows it is ridiculous to be scared, here, between the paws of the wolf, but he is only small and cannot help it.

Another huff of breath and the snout pushes against him.

I know, he thinks, I know it's okay to be scared, but I—I—I—

The wolf rumbles again, tongue darting out to lightly lick his hand.

Can I just be scared? Is that okay?

Another rumble, and this time he feels the wolf shift slightly so he can curl better around him. He noses gently at Roman's head, lapping at his hand again, his tail lightly tickling under his chin. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle attention, letting the wolf protect him. The sound of the fire soothes the frantic part of his hindbrain, the fur too tempting not to burrow into just a little. He's barely the size of a thorn in the wolf's side. The wolf rumbles, lying his head down and leaning it against him so he's pressed in on all sides.

The sickness recedes ever so slightly. Exhaustion quickly replaces it. The wolf breathes slowly. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the soft fur.

***

"I just don't understand!"

"You're hurt because Roman has expressed that you've hurt him."

"Well, yeah!"

"I don't think you get to be mad at him for that, Patton."

"I'm not mad, I'm just very disappointed that—"

"Okay, no, you don't get to do that either. That's not—Patton, the reason this got as bad as it did is because Roman doesn't feel like he can express that he's upset. At you or anyone else."

"But that's—how is that fair?"

"Okay, I think we're going in circles here—look, Pat-Pat, the point here is that Roro's upset—rightfully so, and he needs to time be upset about it now that he knows it's safe for him to be upset."

"It's always been safe for him to be upset!"

"No, Patton, it hasn't."

"Not when we've been jumping all over him for just expressing how he's feeling."

"He knows he can come and talk to me, he does! I don't understand why—"

"Patton, when was the last time Roman sought you out? To talk to you, or even just to hang out?"

"…"

"Patton?"

"…oh, no."

***

It takes a long time.

Roman spends a lot of time in the Imagination. Patton can feel it, can feel how hurt Roman is and how Thomas must be feeling by association. Everyone spends more time just…existing around each other without actually doing anything.

It takes a long, long time.

Fear never completely goes away, but it does become a little less omnipresent. Pain fades, or dulls, but the memory still causes flinches.

In time.

In time.

***

"Roman?"

"Hm?"

"Any ideas?"

Roman glances up at the others. They're all looking at him expectantly. Logan raises an eyebrow and gestures for him to go on.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

"Well, I did think of something."

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[desultory-novice]

...UH OH...

Just kidding as this is all very good stuff, Mechalor Anon! Can't draw it, because it's a lot, but I will drop some corresponding text/lore on you, based specifically on your "The HWC misguidedly brings Zero Three back in Planet Robobot" concept (with a touch of the sword/brush thing) because it did latch onto my brain!!

(This is the LAST major event I do in this doomed timeline though)(1)

[Planet Robobot] [Apologies AU "Snowflakes" Timeline] [Secret Boss Fight - "NULL v0.3"]

:Kirby enters the room: :There is no one there: :Suddenly, the whole building shakes: :A horrific scream, overlayed atop itself, is heard:

:A door opens and Susie rushes out: :It shuts behind her, then shakes with a thud: :Eyes downcast, she murmurs to herself:

Susie: "...What is that machine thinking...? Why would the Mother Computer...ask for something that awful to be...?"

:She finally sees Kirby is here and puts her business face back on:

Susie: "Ahem! You're back! And you've found our secret lab."

Susie: "Clearly, you don't appreciate the miraculous wonders of science and technology as much as some of us..."

:The door bangs again, interrupting her: :There is another piercing dual scream:  :Susie flinches at the sound and begins shaking:

Susie: "...I can't do this anymore." 

Susie: "Listen, think what you like about us being here, but I just need a little more time. I can't let anyone interrupt this!"

Susie: "My original plan was to distract you with our latest in wide-area suppression, fresh off the assembly line but..."

Susie: "...I can't go back in there... We excavated this dreadful THING out of your planet, so YOU handle it...!"

:The door behind her opens as she flees the scene: :Slowly, white sludge begins to spill out from the open door: :It rises into a burbling bubble with a single slit of a closed eye:

:The bubble then cracks right down the middle where the eye sits: :The split orb unfolds into two limp halves each with a smaller, half-lidded eye: :Inside each of the sphere halves one melted-looking half of two figures, a boy and a girl: :Each vaguely familiar figure has a single wing (one dark, one light) made of grasping fingers:

-

[BOSS: NULL v0.3] - Pause Screen

Of all the biological data the Haltmann Works Company unearthed from this planet, the Mother Computer seemed especially interested in this. However, it found it could not fully analyze it to its satisfaction due to the "unknown bond" sustaining the creature's core. It would ultimately deem the project a failure.

[IE: Star Dream is trying to understand Zero for its own purposes but cannot and could never understand the deep "love" that ultimately brought about Zero Three; just like it could not understand Haltmann's love and would delete it]

[BOSS: NULL v0.3 EX] - Pause Screen

Though Susie always tried to follow the mother computer's directives faithfully, she deeply questioned this particular project. When the directive came to "use" the creature in spite of the unhappy children's souls inside, it strengthened her conviction that Star Dream had to be separated from her father.

[In EX form, the sibling-goo is dark matter black instead of snowflake white; Noir's wing is blood red instead of corruption purple; their eyes remain the same]

-

NULL v0.3 plays out as a very unusual boss fight. It is somewhat timed, because v0.3 will damage itself with its "attacks," thrashing about. And if you leave it alone for long enough, it will kill itself. Or you can defeat it with regular copy abilities. Both of these lead to the "normal" boss fight ending, where v0.3 rips itself apart, both sides screaming as the white bodies melt away into nothing. 

However, like in Super Star, this boss will provide you with special, unique battle-limited Copy Abilities if you inhale the right attacks from it: "Dark Sword" and "Light Painter."

Attacking the "swordsman" side of v0.3 with the Dark Sword ability will make it attack you more aggressively. However, if you try to turn Dark Sword ability on the "painter" side, you will be met with a vicious, un-blockable counterattack from the swordsman side that will knock the ability out of you and cause it to swap sides again.

If you try to use Light Painter on the swordsman side, it will cower away in the background, ...guiltily... keeping its distance, however you can lure the painter side closer to you and reduce its aggression levels again by attacking the painter side with Light Painter.

If you succeed in the task of defeating v0.3 with proper use of the two copy abilities, you are rewarded with a different end fight cutscene, where the white body coalesces into a giant sphere once more before melting away, revealing Adeleine and Noir, looking as they did before, who then dissipate peacefully into sparkles...

--

...Man I want to make video games so bad...

AHEM! Here's Mechalor Anon's uncropped asks that inspired this!

Thanks for the appreciation and glad you liked what I did with Zero Three! Sorry I couldn't include Bandee in this more. I really did dig the idea of him using the paintbrush like a spear though!

-

PS: NO MORE HURTING THEM, OKAY? ^^ ; < message to myself

-

(1) I say this again to myself because after the "good" ending, someone out there is going to suggest, "Well, if they were purified they could come back in Star Allies! Maybe each of them sporting white hair! They could be a swap character, like the Mage Sisters. It would make King Dedede happy..." which... okay, sure, maybe yes!

Bu~t I have a huge backlog of stuff INCLUDING other Apologies stuff to do so I'm still declaring Snowflakes to be a "failed Noir" timeline!

[tremendousmothergoat]

Roll a D20 to see if anon the clothing store assistant can help Toriel update her wardrobe without finding themselves...added to her 'shopping spree'

The goatmom's stomach rumbled as the assistant carefully measured around her hips. It growled as the goatmom told the assistant why she'd need a little extra belly room. It burbled as the goatmom tried on several more dresses. And it squirmed and kicked as the goatmom walked out of the store later, licking her fingers. That squirming belly really did look good in that new dress!

(Roll: 4)

[misc-obeyme]

Congrats on the 500 followers!! Woohooo!🥳🎉

Can i request coffee + solomon? Thank you and have a nice day!

Thank you, anon!

Okay this takes place in the Nightbringer timeline, so MC lives with Solomon in Cocytus Hall but there are no spoilers or anything, just fluff!

Thank you for participating!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt Coffee

Warnings: none!

Morning broke in the Devildom and the sky brightened just enough for you to tell it was now day. You shuffled into the kitchen in your pajamas, still bleary eyed and half asleep. Considering how much your magic had improved, you found it simple to do a few spells to get the coffee going. Devildom coffee beans always tasted better if you ground them yourself, but it didn't seem to matter if you used magic to do the grinding and it was much faster that way.

You leaned against the counter as you listened to the coffee pot burble. You let your mind wander, thinking of all the things you needed to get done that day. The air filled with the rich scent as the coffee pot finished its task.

You poured yourself a cup, took a sip of the steaming liquid, and then began to shuffle back toward your bedroom to get ready for the day.

Before you made it there, though, you noticed the warm light of a lamp coming from beneath the door of the room Solomon used to do his magic experiments. It seemed that no matter what branch of time you were in, he would always have this tendency to get so consumed by his work that he would forget to eat and sleep.

You sighed and went right back to the kitchen. You pulled out another mug and poured a fresh cup from the pot.

Holding one mug in each hand, you made your way back to the door. There was a table nearby that allowed you to put down one of the mugs so you could knock. When no answer came, you opened the door carefully and poked your head in.

Solomon was hunched over his desk, clearly so absorbed in whatever he was doing that he hadn't even heard your knock. You picked up the other mug and carried both of them into the room, carefully crossing over to where he was working.

He was surrounded by a clutter of books and magical objects as he scribbled away in an old notebook. He looked up when he heard you approach.

"Oh, good evening, MC," he said with a smile.

You shook your head. "Try good morning."

Solomon blinked at you for a moment, then checked his D.D.D. He laughed. "Ahaha! I guess I lost track of time again."

"No surprise there," you said. You held out the mug to him. "Here, have some coffee, since I know you're not going to go to bed."

Solomon took the mug from your hands, letting his fingers rest against yours for a moment as he did so. He smelled the coffee and then took a sip, closing his eyes. "You make the perfect coffee, MC."

"If you think flattering me is going to get you out of trouble for staying up all night, you've got another thing coming," you said.

Solomon laughed again, putting his mug down on the desk. He stood up and put his arms around your waist, pulling you close. You frowned at him, still clutching your own mug to your chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, though the gently teasing smile on his face seemed to say otherwise. "I don't mean to make you worry."

You sighed, putting your own mug down on the desk so you could return his embrace, letting your head rest on his chest. "I know. Just, try to take care of yourself a little better, Solomon. No more staying up all night. Even all powerful sorcerers like you need sleep."

Solomon laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Of course you're right. I promise to make more of an effort from now on."

You smiled to yourself because it wasn't like you hadn't heard that line before. You wouldn't be holding your breath. But you didn't really want him to change his ways. It was part of who he was. And you would always bring him coffee when he was still awake the next morning.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[el-patito-de-los-ojos-triste]

Yeah i guess i can put you on the top of my tumblr crushes

As,you "guess"? I must not be trying hard enough. Let's take the guess work out of it for you dear

[goldenteaset]

If Legato, Vash, Belial and Djeeta had Pokémon, which ones would they have?

Feel free to include your FOs teams as well or just pick and choose ♥️

Aww thanks anon! Allow me to put in lots and lots of time on this because The Resurgent Obsession Is Real. XD In the order you listed out:

Legato

I feel like he'd be that nightmarish Trainer (Gym Leader?) who specializes in Psychic Pokemon.

Malamar would be his pride and joy I think! When it was an Inkay it glommed onto him and he sloooowly sorted out he "liked its company"

Prefers Pokemon to people, often violently.

Really his whole team would be designed to make the player go "Oh god oh no oh no OH NO" with each successive sending out. (Except for his Alolan Raichu, I suppose?)

By contrast, he makes excellent curry and his Pokemon all love him.

Vash:

Vash's team is all over the place! He'd be a "completes Pokedex for love" sort of Trainer, with a special fondness for the misunderstood Pokemon.

(See: his "starter" Absol, who he found injured in a ditch and cries over a lot.)

His Absol finds this a bit embarrassing but soldiers on.

That said, Vash's super-secret ace in the hole is Inteleon! >:3

He and Legato would be childhood rivals--or to be more specific, Legato would insist on challenging him all the time while Vash runs away

Belial:

I actually have an entire Pokemon AU for him and Cammy at this point that I keep meaning to burble about in full...but anyway!

Another one you'd never know what to expect from, but he does have his tastes. Dark, Poison, and Fairy for spice!

His "starter Pokemon" was a Trubbish Professor Lucilius chucked at him one day.

That Trubbish is now a very spoiled Garbador! Real "lapdog" energy, if that lapdog was also 6 feet tall and ate the burnt bits off of baking utensils.

He has two Alcremies: one Shiny named Black Forest and a rainbow flavor named Stiff Peaks, because even in this AU he has to have his innuendo. XD

That said, the Alcremies don't go into battle very often, they're his baking assistants.

Djeeta:

Shinies and Legendaries for days, baby!

Is a Pokedex completionist who always has souped-up IVs on her "crew members" (Note: I haven't looked into those yet ^^;)

Loves loves loves camping with other Trainers!

You're going to camp with her and you're going to like it

She's the epitome of that mindset from Johto: "Weak Pokemon, strong Pokemon...that's only the selfish perception of people. Truly skilled trainers should try to win with her favorites."

On that note, her favorites are an Altaria named Lyria and an Appletun named Vyrn!

This was fun, thank you anon~ :D

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

*knocks and slowly open the door* hello Wifi, nightly thought anon here! I was thinking of the new seele we got and how it shines and can follow you under the water.

Imagine Foul Legacy being overjoyed finding out that, he now has another friend to explore with ! This little friend match his big shiny eye and can follow him everywhere, unlike the other seeles that dont go in the water this one stay and happily follow our big mothman, sometimes even hide and squeak so they can play together

Him coming home soaked is becoming more and more common due to that but he doesnt mind, his favorite part of the day is cuddling you after you dried him while chirping about his new flying companion

oh my goodness you do not understand the chokehold the new seelie has on me it's so SHINY AND PRETTY AND CAN GO UNDERWATER DO YOU UNDERSTAND

i like to think that maybe Foul Legacy is the one who finds the seelie during one of his solo swims while you're at work, spotting this sparkling, glowing ball huddled away in some seaweed. the seelie squeaks in fear when it sees a massive Abyss creature approach, but slowly calms as Legacy gently trills, bubbles drifting from his open maw. after a few minutes of reassurance the seelie dubs Legacy as trustworthy and floats over to meet him, letting out little burbles and chirps and spinning happy circles in the water. Legacy chitters happily as the seelie sinks into his palm, its glow becoming brighter as the sun begins to set- he's almost late getting home because of this, shaking some of the water from his fluff as the seelie flies after him, a beacon in the night

needless to say, Legacy is very damp, very tired, and very pleased with himself when you come home, nudging the seelie over to you and watching in delight as the bloopy creature sits in your hands and warbles up at you

the seelie doesn't permanently stay in your house, swapping back and forth between inside and outside under the water- but it does always follow Foul Legacy around, wherever he might be, nestling in his fur with a cheerful peep. you become used to Legacy returning late, soaked to the bone and happily exhausted from a full day of swimming, nuzzling you and rumbling with laughter when your clothes get wet. you grab a towel and sit him down, carefully fluffing up his ginger hair as you dry it and his face off. the seelie moves to melt into your lap- strangely, it's not wet at all, but you suppose his seelie must have some water resistance, being a magical creature, and more often than not Legacy dozes off when you're drying his hair, arms draped over your shoulders

yes, you'll wake up damp tomorrow and possibly with a cold, but for now you just pulls the towel over the three of you and snuggle closer, your eyes shutting as you drift off to sleep

[cryptophasiac]

SCREAMINGGG at the abxo tabloid edit!!!! Baby bump in the road to stardom!!!!!!!!!!! Billie Joe cameo!!!!!!!! Like if COURSE he would be promoting omega rights while discussing his teenage abortion it just fits?????????? Genuinely abxo world is REAL to me

i wish adding omega billie joe to this verse was my idea but it was the work of a brilliant anon on my ao3 bc credit where credit is due. i would’ve added him to the scene where patrick is saying the omega artists that inspire him are kathleen hanna brian molko and gerard way if i’d thought of it haha. but stay tuned bc omega gerard is guest starring in the next installment in which the fall out baby rides along on warped tour 04

the baby bump in the road to stardom bit was me tho hahha i was j expanding upon the ao3 anons idea for a tabloid to make the text long enough to edit onto the pics

[nixylubouv]

🌺 Snippet Request 🌺

Dear Anon, thank you for your snippet request. I know I you sent this a while back. I finally got around to finishing it. I really liked your prompt. It was very unique and gave me a lot of inspiration!

Prompt: [Garden, Tears, and Cage with fluff/hurt and comfort vibes]

The sound of footsteps clicked against the singular marble pathway that led to Hero’s cage. Hero shuddered, curling in on themselves in the furthest side of their prison. It was like a giant birdcage, gilded and ornate gold. And Hero, like a little bird, displayed for Villain’s pleasure. The enclosure that surrounded Hero was meant to be a replica of their home world, giving the illusion of a forest. 

Trees with rough russet bark and flowering foliage in all shades of blue grew to the crystal dome ceiling high up above. Purple vines were woven in the canopy and entwined in the bars of Hero’s cage. A gentle article waterfall burbled somewhere behind, falling into a lazy stream of cerulean waters that ran throughout the glorified garden.

Small white flowers dotted the shrubbery like stars, and glowing orange moss climbed the scattered rock fixtures. Maybe to a stranger, the likeness to Hero’s home would have been astounded. To Hero, it was a mockery. Everything was too well maintained and manicured. It was nothing like the wild beauty of a true native forest. 

The worst part was the stillness. No birds twittered or insects chirped, no breeze blew or leaves rustled. Everything was just wrong. It was terrifying. Hero would have preferred a windowless basement room over this death-like silence. 

Click. Click. Click. The footsteps drew near, rounding a huge flowered hedge into the cage’s line of sight. Hero didn’t look. They braced themselves for Villain’s saccharine sweet voice and disgusting honied words of love.  

“Hello, Hero.” 

Hero’s head snapped up. That wasn’t Villain’s voice. Hero gaped at the person standing just outside their birdcage. Supervillain, dressed head to toe in finery. And covered in blood splatter. They walked right up to Hero, sword clattering to the floor. They fell to their knees and gripped the golden bar with one hand. 

Hero was frozen. Trapped in Supervillain’s dark magnetic eyes. Supervillain smiled and held up the object in their other hand, something that sparkled brilliantly in the artificial sunlight. Hero tried to process what they were seeing. It was gorgeous. Hundreds of crystal tears welded together in a crown, almost as many as Hero had shed in their lifetime. 

“How? I thought Villain had sold them all.” Hero couldn’t resist asking. 

Supervillain smiled at that, the gentle expression so out of place on their beautiful face that it caused Hero to shiver. “I know. I tracked them down.” 

Hero inched closer to the front of the cage, mirroring Supervillain’s kneel. “You didn’t use them?” they questioned. Hero’s people rarely shed tears, and the power contained in them could lead people to wage war. It was the reason Villain had captured Hero, no matter how they liked to pretend otherwise.  

“I never wanted you for your tears,” Supervillain said. The bar in their grip started to glow. Hero watched in silence as the glow spread around the cage, disintegrating the vines and melting it down around them.

“I wanted you for you,” Supervillain finished in a hushed whisper. Slowly, reverently, they placed the crown on Hero’s head with both hands. Finally returning what was stolen so long ago. It was very stupid, Hero supposed. To feel touched. Kneeling here, face to face with Supervillain. Wearing a crown made of tears and kneeling in a puddle of gold with someone who they had considered an enemy a lifetime ago.

Tentatively, Hero reached up and cupped Supervillain’s face. Supervillain leaned into Hero’s palm as Hero wiped a thumb under their eye, smearing away the blood. 

“If I leave now, will you stop me?” 

“No.” Supervillain responded simply. And Hero believed them. They felt the bud of an unknown emotion bloom in their heart, something they long thought had withered away. 

“Good.” Hero stood up, pulling Supervillain along with them. “Then let’s get out of here.”

[the-duchess-of-domination]

thank you so much for the advice, i really appreciate it <3

also I was in the library late last night doing my essay which got me thinking about a guy forcing himself to stay up and work in the library even though he’s got a tummyache. Like, typing with one hand so he can rub his stomach under the table, making little moans and complaints under his breath. Maybe the library is almost empty and the last person in there has headphones on but he still wants to be polite and so he holds it all in and keeps going, until he submits his work and stumbles back to his room where can lie down and take care of his tummy. Maybe you’re there, too, half-asleep, waiting for him to come back. When you see the state he’s in you quickly get him to lie down and put on the kettle for some ginger tea. While that’s brewing, you can sit down next to him for some nice cuddles and tummy rubs :)

- ☂️

of course, ☂️ anon, anytime!!

at my college we are only a couple weeks away from finals, and the library is already filling up with people studying. i can imagine a guy in a packed, quiet library, absolutely FIGHTING for his life with a loud stomach ache. he keeps his head low and clenches his stomach muscles to keep the organs inside from burbling loudly, but when he least expects it his stomach starts acting up, and people start looking over or turning their music up to drown it out.

with his face heated and red, he can’t even focus on studying. he starts frantically texting you about how embarrassed he is, and what his stomach is doing to him. you tell him to come back and he reports home and collapses face down on the bed.

“god it was awful,” he bleats. “it just wouldn’t stop growling.”

you tell him to lie down and pull up his shirt, and you start rubbing the knots out of his stomach 💝

[gashotbox]

thoughts on period farts? I get them all the time, they're always so bubbly and sloppy, and they help relieve my cramps ~🪷

what’s up new anon!! and mhmm the way they burble out from between your legs all wet and muffled but 10x nastier. literally period farts reek so fucking good. and god the way your abdomen feels like it’s deflating from relief too😮‍💨

[cncbb]

Using your throat till I cum is going to take a long time for me to be satisfied, I'm going to have you dangling your head off the side of a bed while I fuck your face cunt. I'm probably going to have to have a movie playing with how much I want to use your throat. Only letting you up sometimes for air and to desperately spit your drool away before plowing right back into your throat. Pushing in to smother your nose with my balls as I cum. Pulling out and resting it all on your face while you gasp and burble your way back to the real world

this made my cunt throb, anon! you're awfully descriptive, and I have to say, I love it. there's no place I'd like to be more than blowing cum bubbles while being smothered by your balls rn.

[tremendousmothergoat]

The same anon, buried deep within Toriel's nethers faintly shouts "worth it!" Before being promptly churned into fluid.

Toriel rubbed over her lower stomach, feeling the squirms deep inside, moaning and huffing and bucking her hips!... Until with a loud burbling sound, she climaxed, the anon liquified with several powerful clenches of her womb muscles, the fluids gushing out between her legs and onto the bedsheets.

Ah great... Now she's going to need to do laundry. Well, serves you right, anon.