#is actually so much more painful than i thought. i just finished with colouring and semi-rendering it today and im still not done

[aria0fgold]

Was fully convince today was the 23rd but as it turns out I am at least a day or two safe from the 23rd.

[sleepyangelkami]

BLOODY NOSE s.harrington

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.6K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.

you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.

and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.

allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.

however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.

as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.

there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.

often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.

until he wasn't.

it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.

usually, this was steve's task.

he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.

even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.

the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.

"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.

honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.

steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.

unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.

"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.

"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.

holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.

"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.

you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?

you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.

finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.

steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."

he should have known not to utter those words.

almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.

bleeding?

the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.

steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.

he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.

steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"

once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.

"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.

"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."

however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.

he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.

you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.

but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?

surely, that had to count for something.

half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.

practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.

steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.

however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"

he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

A Moment in Time (Ino Takuma x Reader)

First time posting since I rebranded my tumblr to try and get into posting fics here, thought I'd start off with this to put myself out there cause I finished it just a couple of hours ago ) I hope y'all enjoy, Ino is just a little baby and deserves all the love

Small preface: This is set post-Shibuya, but just before Yuta reenters the picture so it does contain brief manga spoilers in the beginning in terms of character appearances. Reader's CT involves sound and emotions, it manifests as a colour-shifting blob that can be manipulated into different shapes and colours to distract, camouflage and other things. It is influenced by inner thoughts and emotions and sometimes takes the form of people she is thinking of or imitates her movements, almost like it has a mind of it's own. (However it's a very small part and only mentioned a couple of times) Also I have no idea if Shoko can actually do the things she is described to do here, so just roll with it

Warnings: blood, mention of a missing eye, shoko's healing, a lot of pain noises, lots of blood :( as happy of an ending as you can have while just coming out of shibuya, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Shibuya was a mess. So were you, and so was Yuji who has just shown up in front of you for the first time since you departed Jujutsu Tech all those hours ago. “Where’s…” You trail off, your voice raw and defeated as you look pleadingly at him standing beside a man you don’t recognise, “Yuji,” You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, “Where’s Ino?”

He shakes his head, scrunching his own face up, “Ino got hurt real bad, protecting Megumi and I,” He mumbles, angrily rubbing at his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he’s hurt real bad,”

You quickly race over, your arms pulling him into a hug and letting him hide his face against your neck despite the blood, “Shhh, Yuji, it’s not your fault,” you murmur, “Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop him from protecting you, he’s a selfish hard-headed piece of work,” Yuji’s body shakes but he makes no noise as he cries, you continue to reassure him softly, knowing what he needs right now is someone to let him know he’s alright. “If he dies-“ You cut him off before he says anything else, “Don’t make a promise like that, Yuji, Ino knew exactly what he was doing,” You bring a hand up to the back of his head and clutch his hair, letting your own tears fall, “You know he promised me he’d protect you, he promised me, not anyone else, me, as if I had a reason to believe he’d do anything different,”

“I hurt so many people,” He sobs, “Nanami is gone, Kugisaki might be too, it’s all my fault,” You push him away from his sanctuary in your arms, holding him so he’s forced to look at you, “Yuji, they’re sorcerers, they’re fucking crazy, they knew what they were doing, we all know what we’re here for and we all know the eventual price we must pay,” You move your hand from the back of his head to his cheek, “You’re worth it, Yuji, you’re so much more than just ‘Sukuna’s vessel’ to us,” The other man finally steps forwards, “She’s right,” His voice is soft, rumbling like a faraway storm, “You’re strong, brother, but that doesn’t mean you have to be strong alone,”

You nod to him in thanks as Yuji’s body stills, no longer wracked with sobs, “Since the first finger you’ve never been alone Yuji, it began with Megumi and Gojo and it will end with all of us, we may not know what it’s like, but we’re here and we care,” A few more tears slip down his face as he lets a small smile grace his lips, “Thank you Y/n,” He murmurs, “Will you stay by my side?” You nod, “I will do whatever I can for you, Yuji Itadori,” You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away the tears that fall, “Now dry your tears, we still have work to do,” He nods, “This is Choso by the way,” He gestures to the man accompanying you and you finally focus on him for a few moments.

Black hair tied up in messy pigtails, a thick black line across his nose, his clothing loose and shoes that look straight from a goth’s wardrobe, “It’s good to meet you,” You smile as you wonder where he came from, “I’m Y/n,” He nods in return, not quite meeting your eyes but it’s not something that bothers you. You can feel your cursed technique welling up beneath your skin and it seeps out, taking up a crude imitative form of Ino beside you, “Have you seen Megumi since you split up?” you ask, ignoring it. “Last I saw he was with Shoko and Principal Yaga, Ino should be there too, Sukuna sort of saved Megumi, but I don’t know why yet,” Yuji scratches the back of his head while you think for a moment, “Alright, I’ll let you guys get back to the remaining curses, I’ll see if we’re going to move the badly wounded to a safe location,”

You pull him into another quick hug, “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He nods against your shoulder, “Thanks Y/n,” He murmurs as you pat his back. “If you need me, I’m only one call away, don’t be afraid to ask for help,” You say firmly as you grip his upper arms for a moment, before letting go and darting off to where you believe Shoko and Yaga will be based on the directions you were given beforehand.

Once you’ve made your way to the building under the cover of your cursed technique, it drips away into a puddle of red and black that follows you along the ground as you desperately search for Ino. “Y/n! He’s over here!” Shoko calls from a bit further down the rows of bodies, tucked in next to a pillar. Your heart races as you run to her, her hands gently working over his body to find the sources of his pain. You stumble to your knees beside him and cup his cheeks, not caring about the blood as he grits his teeth and groans.

“Shhshhshh,” You gently hush him, stroking the hair back from his forehead, your chest aching as you try to avoid looking into his empty right eye-socket, “Everything’s gonna be ok, you’re gonna be alright,” You murmur. “Hold him,” Shoko instructs softly and you nod, shifting closer and letting him nestle his head sideways against your chest, still facing Shoko. You feel the reverse cursed energy radiating from Shoko as she pushes it into him, frowning as she looks up at his face. An agonized cry falls from his lips and his hands grip you tightly, painfully, but you ignore it and press your lips to the top of his head, “It’s ok Takuma, I’m here, I love you, I’m not leaving,” You whisper.

He struggles and shakes but you hold him tightly, his breaths coming in short wailing gasps, “Is it supposed to hurt him this much?!” You blurt to Shoko, gripped with panic. She grimaces, “I’m growing him an entirely new eye, give me a second!” She seethes. His fingernails dig so sharply into your waist and back that you feel your skin breaking, but you ignore your own pain and just rock him gently. He finally falls limp, breathing heavily and still making small groaning noises every so often, “Stay with him,” She stands, “He needs you,” You nod firmly.

The thought of leaving his side hadn’t even crossed your mind and you work to comb the fingers of one hand through his hair, gently detangling and moving it away from the blood still on his face. You pick up on his breathing pattern and duck your head, breathing loudly and slowly in his ear until he starts copying you, “That’s it, that’s it,” You praise him softly, “There you go,” He digs his fingernails in again, though not nearly as hard as before, and slumps further against you, forcing you to sit back on your butt against the pillar. He buries his face against your chest and you hold him half in your lap, legs spread either side of his waist, “Oh Takuma,” You whisper, finally allowing yourself to feel a wash of relief, “I’m so happy you’re alive,”

He moans softly against your shirt, his hands creeping up your skin at the back and just holding you, “Takuma,” You breathe. “Y/n,” He finally murmurs as he turns his head to the side slightly, his voice rough and low, mouth barely exposed. You let out a soft cry, “Takuma,” you repeat, helping him as he insistently moves up and then flops onto his butt beside you, his eye good as new but his face still covered in blood, “Oh…” you kneel in front of him and look over your shoulder, “Can someone get me a bottle of water?” You call out, but his gentle hands pull your attention, and your body, back to him. “C’mere,” He grunts, his hands moving down your body the closer you get until he tugs you by the hips and you’re forced to straddle his upper thighs.

“What did you say before doll?” He mutters, his eyes swimming with emotion, almost not quite seeing you. “I’m so happy you’re alive,” You murmur, your hands trailing up to his face, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” He shakes his head, coughing a couple of times, “No, before that,” Someone places a bottle next to your leg and you nod in thanks, looking away only briefly. “Takuma…” You murmur, leaning forward and resting your forehead to his, “I love you,”

He chuckles, his lips spreading into a smile beneath the blood, “I can’t live without you, I don’t want to live without you,” You whisper. “That’s what I needed to hear,” He lets his head rest back against the pillar and you grab the bottle, pouring a small amount of water into your palm and lifting it to his face, “Close your eyes,” You murmur, and once he’s closed them you let the water drip between your fingers onto his forehead and down over his eyelid. You use your fingertips to gently rub the blood off and then rinse his face, drying it with your coat as he opens his eyes again, “You are so pretty,” He murmurs, “And that’s not just the blood loss talking,”

His hands which haven’t deviated once from your hips pull you slightly closer, one trailing up to the back of your head as he leans closer, “Stunning,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over yours like feathers as you share breaths, “Crying for me like this,” He coos, “You’re just beautiful,” You hadn’t even realised you were crying until he mentioned it, his hands grabbing your wrists to stop you from wiping them away, “Takuma,” you whimper softly, struggling against his grip and desperate for validation, “Say it back or let me go,”

His breath fans your neck for a moment and he kisses your jaw, “I love you too,” He murmurs into your skin, “Always have, won’t let you go, I promise,” His mouth trails up to yours, satisfying the flame that roars beneath your skin as he initiates a tentative kiss, one full of love and care. You press further into him, desperately assuring yourself he’s still alive and allowing yourself to forget where you are for just a moment in time.

Thanks for giving me a chance if you got this far, I hope you enjoyed it! Most of my fics start out as self-indulgent writings but then if I'm proud I'll post them somewhere and see what people think, anyway please please feel free to request, send me prompts, anything that comes to mind!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

[revalition]

OCT 16 - PAIN THRESHOLD Shrug off the pain. They’ll have to hurt you more.

I love this guy a lot! even if he has some really questionable advice. I ended up dumping a lot of points into him in my first playthrough!

really simple drawings today, I've had a pretty bad headache all day. which you'd think would allow me to channel the pain threshold vibe better! but it really didn't. sadly the amount of love I hold for a skill doesn't necessarily correlate with how much effort I can put into drawing them (with a few exceptions lol). the one on the right was an old sketch I coloured... it was a relief I already had a halfway decent design for him haha

lots of quotes under the cut as usual!

pain threshold!!

fun fact - he does not refer to you as harry once. however he does call you: - pal - baby - son - buddy - man and none of these more than once. weirdo

PT also has the most anti-passives (passive failures) out of the skills, by a large margin. He has 31, second place has 19. He also has 3rd least passive checks.

quotes:

these two idiots!! causing mental and physical damage with their screaming... H/E coordination trying to reel it back in

<3 (this heals endurance!)

actual idiot skill

dudeee

he's so funny. he's fucking got this.

dying here

nooo

sigh

super normal.

he's a sad, sad guy

if you haven't been told yet that he has depression PT can figure it out for you!!! <3

sad PT in the final dream :(

this one too

he knows! he recognizes *fake pain*

dialogue after failing to save ruby... urgh

I really like this. 'A race to beat your own heart's pulse to some dark finish line.'

as always this is amazing.

:((( this is re: pawnshop roy

hehe

this one is always delightful. he has a sense of humour sometimes!

this whole scene was a mess, but this line in particular... I don't know, it just stuck with me. It's very vivid.

honestly, true

lol

sometimes these skills say some unhinged stuff, sheesh

poor guy, he's so sad

:(((

this one is brutal.

this guy has *issues*

ending it on this very important one!!! please look! during the last dream pain threshold tells you to pick the dialogue option that will cause her to leave and the dream to end... and volition tells you to keep dragging it on. hghh guys...

pain threshold is quite something. there are lots of instances of him telling you something painful feels good, or encourages you to do something that will hurt (both physically and emotionally). he also leads the finger on the eject button thought dialogue. My first playthrough I had FYS of 4 and I ended up dumping a ton of points in to PT cause I was fascinated by him. But I also had mega high volition cause I adored him too. they definitely did not have the same goals...

the first time I remember hearing from my personal PT, we were bowling and my wrist was really starting to hurt. and he was like, you should keep playing. thanks bro :/

anyway that's all. for tomorrow, physical instrument's design isnt super exciting to me, but I do have a bunch of good quotes picked. I can make a coach calling people a binoclard compilation...

[sebastianswallows]

Ardour — Chapter 2

— PAIRING: professor!Tom Riddle x Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Tom got what he wanted, he is the Hogwarts DADA professor. It's more tedious than he envisioned, but his day gets interesting when his favourite student comes to him for help after she is hit with a strong aphrodisiac.

— WARNINGS: smut, hurt/cumfort, fingering, wet and messy (very), sweet dirty talk, age difference (she is in 7th year), dub-con, sex pollen, hints of incest (reader is a distant relative Gaunt, to give Tom something to find palatable about her, ok? I know, but... just go with it)

— WORDCOUNT: 6k

— A/N: I procrastinated a lot on finishing this, but here it is. You can expect one other chapter, and what it will contain is hinted at at the very end. I hope you enjoy it very much, my dears!🐍💚Again, this was partly written with the help of this lovely AI Tom chat bot.

He said he was ‘going to have to give her an orgasm’ like he was talking about a pinch of dittany. She stared at him. She was gripped by shock at first, then outrage, then fear, and then a bucket of shame like icy water fell over her.

"What?!"

"I know, Adara," he whispered, an awkward smile on his face as he sat on the floor beside the sofa that she lay on. "It may sound like the most unconventional of treatments, but I assure you it’s very conventional in this case. Not to worry, I’ll —"

He was about to say he was going to be gentle, but that might have come out the wrong way.

"— I’ll… make sure you’re back to normal as soon as possible," he smiled.

He saw her give a sigh of relief at that. Her legs were restless on the sofa, not knowing whether they wanted to squeeze together to satisfy her, or spread apart and let her sensitive area have a chance to cool. Her hips were twisting too, like she couldn’t find a position that was comfortable — which, on that antique piece of furniture, was just as likely. But more tellingly, beneath her school shirt, he could see the hint of hard little peaks pressing so tightly against the white material that he could almost guess their colour.

Adara waited patiently while his eyes scanned her body, but just as he was drinking in the sight of her legs encased up to the knee in her black socks he heard her mewl and whimper and whisper with the little courage that she had, "Professor? Please…?"

"Shush."

He looked at her face once more and gave her a cold smile, then moved slightly lower, bending his legs in a comfortable position on the floor.

"Now, for your treatment..." Tom whispered, his eyes calm and dark.

"C-could you — ?"

"What?" he asked tensely.

"Erm… could you… not look?"

He glared at her. "Do you trust I have your best interest at heart, Miss Gaunt?"

She whimpered and bit her lip and said nothing, squirming as the Ardour Fly ate away at her resolve.

"If this is going to work, you will have to trust me not only with your problems — and the trouble you get yourself into — but with the most intimate parts of your body. Is that understood?"

She began to breathe heavily when she saw that he was actually waiting for an answer, and all the while she was in pain, her heart nearly beating out of her chest like she was in danger.

"Yes, Professor," she said, almost too quickly. "I trust you."

"Good girl," said Tom with quiet satisfaction. "Now, you lift your skirt again. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Sir," she answered breathlessly, and obeyed.

Her trembling hands grabbed hold of the hem of her skirt and clumsily pulled it up, and away.

He shifted in his pose on the hard floor, becoming aware of something very uncomfortable happening to him… He grunted to himself at how weak his body was, how easily tempted. Not now, he thought ruefully toward his petulant, touch-starved, yearning member. It plumped up at the mere sight of her, pressing against his trousers, pointing up and forward and toward her, reaching for that small part of her that she had just revealed. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but all he could breathe in was the scent of her, and it made everything worse. His manhood throbbed, cried, ached in his confines, but he decided to ignore it, as he often did on the rare occasions that it acted up this way.

With one cold hand, Professor Riddle pressed her squirming legs flat on the sofa so that he could have a better look at her. She let go of the shirt at the sudden motion, letting it gather on her stomach, and clung to the cushions.

He could see it throbbing, her mound, the folds that plumped beneath it, could see it moving enticingly — torturously, no doubt, for her — to a rhythm he suspected was the beating of her heart. It seemed in every way a hungry mouth looking for something, anything, to suckle on. Around the edges of her modest black panties, wetness made her skin glow in the low candlelight. Her upper thighs and even the part where her legs met her torso were soppy with clear, sticky secretions. And he could smell it, her lust, could smell it more strongly now than ever before, salty and sweet and warm and fleshy and fresh... It filled his lungs, it made his mouth water, it made him dizzy.

He heard her whimper again in that bratty fashion, and finally he tore his eyes away from this tender part of her body for the sake of focusing on something more practical...

He took his wand out of his pocket and with a wordless incantation he made his heavy professor robes disappear from his body to a clothes hanger in his bedroom. Then, he undid the cuff on his right arm and folded them back a couple of times. He expected this could get a little messy…

"Be good, now. And don’t make a fuss," Tom said as kindly but firmly as he could. His eyes slid to her face to find it quite red, her eyes looking miserably sad, and her lip bitten nearly bloody.

He thought he might start slow… He placed the tips of his fingers on the inside of her knee and stroked from there, up her inner thigh, up to where she was hurting — and she was so soft, so warm, feeling warmer as he got closer to her aching mound, feverish and damp… But that, of course, was the wrong approach, because it only teased her.

"Sirrr!" she whined, her back arching.

Tom coughed awkwardly, feeling guilty for the intimately slow caress — which teased not only her, but himself as well. He was made to feel something a little different at hearing her high-pitched cry… Perhaps it was pity. Yes, that’s what it was… He took a deep breath, decided on his next actions, and firmly settled his fingers where they were needed — at her core.

She nearly jumped off the sofa and released a deep moan, half-pain half-pleasure. "There!" she said, once she could finally speak.

Tom just held his fingers against her, his eyes betraying nothing. Adara looked down at her body, her hands clinging to the cushions by her thighs.

"It... it aches, Sir, it hurts..." she complained, biting her lip in shame and desire.

"It's alright," he whispered, his voice calm and distant, almost professional, but a hint of something else lingered behind. "I will make it all better for you."

She whimpered impatiently, her desperate gaze fixated on where her Professor’s wrist disappeared behind the clump of her skirt, between her thighs. Her knees began to fiddle nervously.

"Just keep your eyes on me, Adara," he said quietly, looking at her blushing face. "And breathe deeply, alright? Deep breaths for me. Can you do that? Just concentrate on me, on my eyes, on my touch..."

His cold, elegant fingers began to make circles over her clothed folds, a slow, gentle movement, his eyes staring into her own.

"Deep breaths, Adara, like you mean it. Like you need it."

"Yes, Professor," she moaned, her head resting sapless on its side as she looked at him.

As he requested, she kept her eyes on him, taking deep, deep breaths, in and out and in and out, while his fingers went up and down and up and down. What he was doing to her soothed her somewhat, like gentling a wild animal.

His hands continued to move slowly over her pulsing mound and lower, feeling his way around, his eyes staring deep into hers, almost piercing her with his gaze. His eyes were burning with a mix of emotions, worry and care, but still that hint of something unwanted behind them — the faintest shadow of greed.

"That's it, you're doing well," he whispered, slowly moving his hand faster and faster. "Keep looking at me."

Yes... That's it... That's it...

Her panties sloshed over her womanhood as he moved his fingers faster, her wetness soaking his skin clean through the cotton as if it wasn’t even there. And he could feel, in that little hollowing where her slit was — a fresh release of something sweet. Then, he trailed his middle finger right between where her folds were, teasing her panties into the divot, then trailed his digit upward, pressing down hard, until he found it, her little nub. She winced in pain again, and Tom thought he knew why. The Ardour Fly had been blown up her skirt, she said… That must have meant her underwear was covered in it, and pressing it against her must have made it worse.

He pressed down harder.

"Professor!" she gasped, her arms coming up to hide her face. She felt warmer and warmer as he rubbed the remnants of the aphrodisiac into her lips, between them, against that rebelliously hard nub…

"I know, sweet girl," he whispered, his cold hand starting to circle that hard little point in the most barely-there touch that only gave it something to strain towards, to reach for, to harden more. "I know..."

"Aaaaah!" she screamed when he switched from gentle strokes to cruelly rubbing it with the edge of his nail.

Adara squirmed on the sofa and her legs spread wider. She whimpered in humiliation as she felt more wetness seep out of her, a warm little dollop bubbling out, wetting her panties more.

The bastard smiled at her reaction and she could hear a throaty chuckle — and did he sound a little smug?

She bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly, and turned her head away toward the back of the sofa. Across her thighs, she could feel her Professor’s hand bracing against her flesh to access her better, now that her legs were spread.

She peeked briefly to look at him — his eyes were already waiting for her, fixed on her face, but his head was leaning slightly over her, right in front of her, right in front of where she was exposed. He licked his lips when he saw her looking back, his mouth tilted in a smile. Then, as she watched him, he shamelessly looked down between her legs. Gently, he put a bit more pressure on his elbow, as if steadying himself — it forced her legs to spread even more for him.

"Would you look at that…" he whispered in an appraising tone. He could feel his shaft twitch angrily in his trousers and grunted at the slight rub it gave itself.

The heat of his dark eyes conflicted with his gentle, slow touching, his patient torturous playing with her over her soaked panties. He was giving her the time that she needed, the space to let herself become vulnerable for him, to give him control over her body.

His fingers focused on that dip between her folds where he found her hole, two fingers pressing against it, moving the cotton in such a way that it scraped over her whole womanhood and rubbed her in every sensitive place. Wetness spilt over the edges, dripping down her thighs, and lower…

"Sir, please," she begged, her head still turned away in shame — because she didn't know if she could say this if she was looking at him — "it still hurts, Sir, it hurts so much, it burns, it hurts... please..."

"What do you want?" he whispered, his voice still so soft and tender. "What do you need from me?"

"You know!" she cried. "Please, I... I need it..."

He could tell. Her folds pulsed with her heartbeat, throbbing, swollen as if bruised. They moved against his finger with every pulse as if kissing his digits, coaxing them inside. With a shudder, he felt his manhood twitch in sympathy, feeling hot and heavy between his legs, wetting him slightly with either his seeping juices or perhaps just sweat, and what wasn’t absorbed by the rough cotton made his skin feel damp and disgusting.

"It hurts, does it? Your traitorous flesh," he whispered softly as he looked up at her from the corner of his eyes, speaking in a way to both her and himself. He breathed in deeply, trying to relax his body as much as hers, trying to be a point of stability through this process. But beneath it all, there was... a worry, concern that told her he wanted nothing more than to hold her and keep her safe and take care of her.

He took his fingers away for one second, then returned to place his index horizontally, across her folds, and traced it from the very base of her swollen parts all the way up where her pearl peeked out between them, hard and yearning for affection. Then, he moved his finger back down, and then back up, over and over… It was as if he was petting her, but all it did was drive her mad. And every time she peeked out to look, she found him there, looking at her, waiting for her gaze, focused entirely on her.

He ended this part of the ‘treatment’ with a quick and rough rub of her pearl using his middle finger again, bullying it just a bit, playing with it meanly. Just for a few seconds, just enough to make her whole body shiver and her lips part in a moan and her back to arch in pleading for him to stop stop stop… And then he did stop, and his hands went on either side of her hips.

"I hope you remember what you promised me earlier," he said in a voice that sounded warm and close, although he was all the way down at her hips. She looked blearily up at him, her lips parted dumbly as she took heavy breaths. Tom kept his dark eyes on hers, so sharp in comparison but shadowed with his own mixed feelings. "You told me you trust me, remember?"

She whimpered.

"With every part of you..."

Slowly, like a caress, like an accidental brushing of his hands down her hips, he started tugging her panties down. Her knees bent up to aid him.

"No matter how… small…"

They were pulled from her waist, tugged with a couple of stronger pulls from beneath her behind, and then glided slowly, smoothly, under his control.

"No matter how…"

Away from her mound and out from between the folds that held the material loosely between the lips, slivers of wetness trailed behind like dribble before breaking off and sticking in transparent threads all the way down her thighs.

"…intimate."

He let her panties fall somewhere behind him on the floor as he took in the sight before him. His eyes drank her in with interest and a strange hunger, a need that came suddenly and from so deep inside it muddled his senses for a second. He leaned a bit further back to catch a better glimpse of… what he had to work with. He even put his ostensible professionalism aside to grip her bent legs gently and lift the a bit on the sofa, spreading her knees just a touch, opening her up.

Against his will, his lips parted in a breathless gasp. Her mound was covered in dark curls, but they were matted with wetness between her thighs. Her folds were so swollen he couldn’t see anything between them, but he could see them continue to throb hungrily, the delicate muscles there working hard beneath the skin. Above, he could just see the hint of where her pearl was. And slathered all over her were trails of white translucent seepings tempering the dark-red colour of her excited flesh, sticky and fragrant and copious. He could almost taste her on his tongue.

"S-sir?" she asked with a tremulous little rasp.

His gaze trailed calmly to hers, but otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle — except to lick his lips. Her eyes widened at that, and he smirked at what he saw inside her head.

"Are you ready for your treatment?" he asked sweetly.

She whimpered, her hands folded nicely at the base of her ribs. To his surprise, she nodded excitedly.

Tom chuckled and leaned back to where he was before, and pressed her legs back down onto the sofa, only this time keeping them a little more apart. He looked coldly into her eyes, seemingly disinterested in what he was doing, while his fingers drew circles around her right inner thigh, as if he were thinking…

Beneath his wandering fingers, he felt her twitch, her muscles jumping with pain or excitement — or perhaps it was just the Ardour Fly working on her… Yes, that must be the reason.

It was about time he kept his word, and treated her.

Tom sighed, gripped by his own feelings of anxiety. He slid one hand surreptitiously down to his waist to settle his member more comfortably, then, in one straight stroke upwards, he brought his fingers straight up against her naked womanhood.

Her body convulsed in satisfaction and he could hear her moan little shards of Yes yes yes! while her legs struggled against his grip to try to spread wider for him.

"Be good now," he said with a tone of warning, the same tone he’d used in class so many times before. "Stay still for me."

"Professor, I can’t…" she complained.

He ignored her petulance save for a disapproving side glance, then focused once more on tending to her. He leaned back slightly for a better view.

She was leaking fresh dollops of her feminine juices all down her plush folds and her thighs and between her cheeks and down onto his sofa. His middle finger rested where he thought her hole would be, and he pressed between those full and hungry lips, moving slightly up and down, searching her, until he found it. He heard her wince uncomfortably when his finger touched the entrance to her body.

"Oh hush," he whispered dismissively. "Don’t tell me you’ve never played with this."

She said nothing to that, but from the corner of his vision, he saw her hide her head away again between her folded arms.

Tom gave her little hole a bit of attention, circling it, introducing himself to it… It made her begin to pulse and clench, leaking with want. He let his finger rest right against it, and it only took a few hungry twitches for her hole to nearly pull him in all on its own, like it was looking for something to nurse on.

He smirked, and moved higher. Her downy hair tickled the sides of his finger as he stroked her slit before it rested on her little nub, flesh on flesh.

She really jumped at that.

"Aaaahhh! Sir, please! That’s…!"

"Is this it then, my dear?" he asked with a mockingly academic tone. "Is this your most sensitive part? This little thing right here?"

His middle finger rubbed it from the base, around its raw head, then up to the soft hood that covered it.

"It’s…! Aahhh…. Aahhh…."

She was beside herself, nonsensical. Tom chuckled, but to his own surprise the sound was not one of mockery this time — it was almost fond.

He found it hard to keep tending to her in that state, she was so swollen, so engorged with blood from the effects of the aphrodisiac… So he moved his ring and index finger to her folds and kept them apart, exposing her, and with his thumb braced against her little hood, preventing it from protecting her sensitive pearl, he put his middle finger back to work, pleasuring her.

She was slippery wet, and the little thing was so hard it was almost sharp, truly the smallest point on her body — yet so, so delicate, so sensitive, so powerful it made her whole body move, would have if he didn’t move his arm from her legs to her waist to hold her down, his heavy cold palm pressed down on her tense stomach.

And as much as she arched her back and screamed and canted her hips into his strokes or away from them, his hand between her legs didn’t budge, it stayed on her, followed her, forcing her lower lips open and relentlessly flicking her nub.

"PLEASE!" she cried, her hands coming down to grip the sofa cushions again. "Please please please…"

His finger moved in broader strokes now, going down to her hole to gather more slick before licking a path back to her nub to tease it a bit, then tease it harder, then flick it loosely as if he tested how erect it was, how stiff — and then going down again to rest his finger at her entrance, just letting it know he’s there, letting it know he hadn’t forgotten about it, trying to soothe it.

"There you go," he praised, surprising himself by smiling fondly as he looked at her flushed face. Her cheeks were damp with tears and strands of her hair stuck sweetly to her skin. "My favourite student... my prettiest girl..." he praised. Where did that come from? he asked himself — but it didn’t matter. It didn’t feel like a lie when he said it. She reminded him too much of himself in her darkness, in her frustrated need, in her sullenness, for him to dislike her… especially now.

Adara smiled with a mix of shyness and pride, as if she could never have expected to hear such a thing. She knew she was good in his class, and that Professor Riddle thought highly of her, but she never dared hope that she was his favourite.

"Am I, Sir?" she asked, looking into his eyes and managing a small, warm smile. Her hips started moving at steeper but slower angles until she could almost trick his fingers into penetrating her, her movement and his gentle motions uniting to almost bring her finger into her most intimate hole. "You're my favourite professor, you know" she confessed, looking at him with admiration and surrender and deep, deep affection.

He smirked at that, feeling unapologetically pleased.

"That’s right, you're my favourite student, Adara..." he whispered, his voice deep and warm but with an unspoken need hiding behind it.

He went slower, than faster, his moving in unpredictable patterns. He wanted to savour the moment... wanted to savour her.

She smiled tightly and sadly at him, not even the pleasure of his fingers enough to distract her.

"Am I really?" she whispered, in between the moans caused by his soft, gentle touches that stroked her pain away. "Irma Burke is far better than me, and — oh, right there, Sir — and Juniper Flint and — aaaahhh P-professor, so good, please please please…"

"Shhh... shhh..." he gentled her as his fingers continued their movement, their caressing and their touching, right there, right where she needed it.

"They might be talented too," he whispered, his voice softer still as he continued to move, his eyes still locked with hers. "But they're not as good as you."

His fingers were moving deliberately, ever so gently, ever so carefully, a little bit faster now…

She bit her lip to shut herself up and looked into his eyes with longing, so grateful to him for his sweet words, his praises, his attention… He was giving her everything she ever needed, that she never got anywhere else... He made her feel so safe, so cared for that she could have fallen in love...

As his tending to her brought Adara closer to the height of her pleasure, she gasped and arched her back in a hungry chase after his touch. Smirking at her efforts, Tom pressed his hand down harder on her lower stomach, and let his fingers rest at her entrance again. Just resting there...

She whined and winced and moved her hips the little that she could, then gasped.

The greedy little twitches of her hole began to draw him in, and slowly, through the greed of her own body, the tip of his middle finger finally penetrated her. Tom groaned — she was feverishly hot inside, worrying so. A sloppy puddle was waiting just inside her hole and was pushed out by his presence. It slid around his finger, licking its way down it to his knuckles, his palm, an adventurous little trail of it making it all he way down to his wrist.

"P-p-prof—!"

"Shhh… That’s it, good girl..." he whispered in a tender, comforting voice... but with that darkness and hunger and need still lurking in the depths of his eyes, a need as great as hers.

He let his finger be drawn inside by her hungry little womanhood, pulled in with each tensing throb. It managed to do so only down to the first knuckle, and then he had to push.

His length throbbed in jealousy, and he could feel from his tip the bubbling of a little tear of longing. The sensation was so intense, so rare, that it almost hurt. His whole loins were in pain, in fact, and the hard floor was doing no favours to his sac that churned with its unspilled desire for her, for the vulnerable young girl that was under his care.

"Sir, you’re… y—"

"Yes, I’m inside you now, aren’t I?" he whispered teasingly, his dark gaze holding her wide, humiliated eyes. His middle finger and his index kept her folds parted, forcing her tenderest parts to be exposed, but his thumb began to rub soothing circles on the hood above her nub. "Isn’t that better, hmm? Are you liking your treatment?"

She moaned senselessly with each little bit of his finger that he squeezed through her tight hole, but she had the presence of mind to nod as she looked into his eyes.

"So beautiful... so vulnerable... so... pretty..." he whispered as his fingers continued to move around her sensitive little parts, to caress her...

His dark eyes drank her in — the most darling sight in the world to him at this point... his prettiest girl, his best girl... right there. Her channel kept throbbing more strongly, fighting back against an invasion that got thicker as he worked his way to the second knuckle and more. He curled it slightly against that spongy spot above. She mewled and started hyperventilating, her thighs suddenly clenching, feet scrambling against the sofa. If she weren’t so wet, he might have had trouble shoving even one finger in, he noted with surprise. He might have been a man, but until then he’d thought his fingers were quite slender…

He growled when he felt her channel try to stop him in a firm, tight clench, and he moved his thumb back to her nub, beginning to rub it harshly now, pressing into it without mercy while holding her squirming waist down, ignoring her excited cries. He bullied that little pearl while he kept his finger still. Slowly, gently, imperceptively, he let her own squirms and cantings of her hips pull his middle finger deeper, work her down onto him.

Eventually, he could feel he reached the end of her. He realised with wonder that he was touching the mouth to her womb. The girl cried out at the intimate feeling.

"Aaahhh! Professor!"

The room was filled with the wet sounds of his thumb slicking up and down her button while the finger in her hole began to thrust. He kept it slightly curled, greedy for that soft spot, eager to press into it, to tease it, to caress it, hungry for the sounds she made whenever he did so — throaty moans, pleading whines, and the senseless gasps of pleasure with her head tilted back and her eyes lazily looking at him and her legs a bit bent and spread… She was a vision.

"Does it hurt, Adara?" he whispered, his voice soft and tender.

"It hurts so much, Sir," she whined, tears coming to her eyes again. "It hurts me… It hurts me it hurts me it hurts me," she moaned, her body shaking. "Please, Sir, help me, please make it stop, make it stop..."

His eyes went wide as he heard her, as he saw the tears forming in her eyes. It made things happen to his body, not only his loins but his entire skin and his heart and his lungs, that he never thought possible… To reward her, his hands moved just a little faster and he started to take her closer, closer to the ultimate release that would bring her some relief. She was in pain... pain she didn't deserve... he had to fix that, fix her... make her feel better.

"Calm down," he said in a gentle, caring voice as his hands kept their movement, still tending, still caressing, but a little bit faster still, a little more urgently.

His hand pressed down on her lower stomach to try to control her frantic body, but it only made her moan louder, her legs spread wider…

"What’s this here?" he whispered gently as he looked down at his flat palm. "Hmm? You like it here? Is there something good here?"

"My… my…"

"Your womb, that’s right…" he whispered hotly, licking his lips as he looked into her eyes.

He pressed down deliberately on it now while his finger worked heatedly into the channel that led up into it, torturing her pleasure spot from both sides, giving it no escape, no mercy, no choice but to give her the release she needed.

"Aaaaahhh! Aaaahhhh there," she whined needily. "There, there…!"

His motioned pulled dollops of her seeping juices out with each outward slide, and then his finger thrust straight up to tickle the entrance to her womb with each push, before retreating and curling almost aggressively into that tender spongy spot again and again and again. His thumb kept rubbing harshly at her nub, occasionally letting his short nail scratch just the surface of it, just to see her cry a bit.

"It pains you, doesn’t it?" he whispered sympathetically, so at odds with his rough tending to her. "This little womb… Don’t you want to make it happy? Don’t you want to give it some release?"

She closed her eyes shut tightly in shame and anxiety and nodded.

"Come on, my darling girl, give in to it… Give in to me…" he coaxed.

His whole hand was soaked from her, his fingers so wet they were starting to prune, and his manhood was so stiff and swollen he felt sure it was about to rip a seam. But none of that mattered; he had to take care of her.

"Professor," she whined loudly, arching her back in pleasure as he started to tend to her faster. "Professor Riddle... Sir... So good..."

Her hips moved up and down as she began to rub herself against his fingers and he began to move in harmony with her. She teased her little pearl against his thumb now, worked her pulsing channel down his middle finger, letting him help bring her closer to the end of her treatment.

"Good girl," he whispered as his eyes widened in delight. "My best girl…”

His fingers moved faster still, his movements growing more deliberate, building her up higher, and higher, and higher, getting closer and closer to the ultimate release, that moment of pure ecstacy... of satisfaction... of relief...

"What does my good girl need?" he whispered, looking at her with a mix of pity and desire, with a genuine need to see her brought to satisfaction.

"More," she begged, looking deep into his eyes, pleading with him. "More, please Professor... More... I need more... I need you," she finally confessed, breaking her gaze away and biting her lip. "I need you..."

She began to leak profusely against his fingers almost as if she were wetting herself, soiling him down to his wrist with her girlish juices. He felt her begin to pulse in a strong, clenching way, her hips stuttering, her back arching, her legs spreading wider, and...

"AAAAH! AH! AH! AH!"

She screamed and her body shivered, her legs trembling on either side of his arm, her intimate parts throbbing stronger, her hole opening and closing as if was swallowing him down... Dollops of wetness bubbled out of her pulsating entrance, filling the air with that sweet and fleshy scent that he was addicted to by now. It slid between his fingers that kept moving, kept tending to her.

"Yes... yes... you need me... you need your Professor, don’t you, my favourite girl...?" his voice was deep and husky with lust and love and pride — and more of that pesky underlying need, that hunger, that desire to possess her, to possess all of her for himself, to keep her for himself, as all of this came together into this sensitive, fragile release.

He was proud. Proud of her, proud of what he had done, proud of her need... her desire... her dependence on him.

She whimpered as she began to relax, her body shaking with occasional twitches of after-pleasure. It caused her to moan deliciously. Slowly, her hips relaxed and settled. Tom kept his finger inside of her little hole, but let her folds go. They closed around his finger in a grateful kiss.

She bit her lip and looked at Professor Riddle, her eyes foggy with pleasure and in disbelief at what had just happened, what he had done to her.

"Good girl..." he whispered. He smiled fondly down at her as his thumb caressed the hood above her nub in soothing, consoling circles. "You feel better now? No more pain?"

His voice was soft and caring, and his eyes shone with delight after all that had happened. He wasn’t half as breathless as she was, but he was far from unaffected. His heart had nearly pounded out of his chest when he saw her and felt her and heard her reach her pleasure as he worked her little body with just two fingers.

"Mmmm…"

Her eyes were half-lidded and her hands were curled up into loose fists over her chest, moving up and down with her deep breaths. Tom smiled and leaned down over her to give her another little kiss, like a prince in a fairy tale waking the princess from eternal sleep.

"Do you feel better?" he asked again softly.

She moaned into his kiss, leaning up into it, chasing his mouth. She was still so needy for him... Her thighs closed around his wrist, not wanting him to part from her, desperate to keep him close to her.

"Feels a bit better," she whispered as their lips parted. His gentle strokes made her shiver, made pleasure bloom in her even after her devastatingly strong peak, and she rubbed herself tiredly against his finger. "But... it's still... there's still an ache, Sir..." she blushed, looking down. "I'm sorry..."

So the pain was still there...

"An ache?" he whispered with genuine concern. This wasn't right. She shouldn't be in any pain right now. He had to fix this…

"Where?" he asked with a frown. "Why does it — Oh."

He was to blame. He’d rubbed her panties against her folds at first, rubbed more of that Ardour fly onto her like a second dose. And now, she was feeling the consequences…

He shushed her as she whined, his fingers doing what they could to soothe her tender little parts. Her eyes were drowsy and so pained that they nearly broke his heart...

His voice was soft and caring and concerned, even while it was filled with his own neediness beneath, as he informed her of what he had to do to her next.

"I’m going to clean you up, my good girl," he said, looking fondly and even apologetically down at her. "And I can think of only one way to do it that would convey how contrite I am for the pain you’re in."

He let her hole nurse on his finger while he took the other palm off her tense stomach and began to undo his tie.

[playertale-au]

[NOTICE] Thank you for the 300+ followers. To celebrate, bits of PLAYER!Tale AU concept( regarding Player) is shared

Reposting because Tumblr decided to post instead of saving it in drafts when I'm not even finished. Love you tumblr!  (╯ᐛ）╯︵ ┻━┻

◇◇◇◇◇

A/N: 

Oh, wow! We actually reach 300+ (as of now 310) followers!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, I’m glad all of you enjoyed the story despite my art not being that good. I actually wanted to draw for 250 followers but I didn’t realised we passed that milestone. 

Anyways! To celebrate, I wanted to share some concepts regarding the Player based on my memories, though sorry if there is like a black blotched in the drawing as that is considered as spoilers.

To start off, I began creating this AU maybe 5/6 years ago, on and off, (re-writing or removing some stuff along the way) I had loads of concept art and drawings back in 2019 but sadly those old arts were, ummm, forcedly deleted after a disagreement with someone I trusted, haha. The pain for a FT user in ibis paint. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ

Then 2023, I wanted to move forward. So I decided to give it a shot and start drawing again. I wanted to share my AU (better late than ever),＼＼\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／ and also I thought it will help overcome my fear of drawing and start liking to draw again.

Anyway, here we have Player’s design concept (+ explanation):

Version 1:

Player actually does not inhibit Frisk’s body, as they are not trap in the game, instead, they have their own “Avatar” basing on the data and sprites of Frisk and Chara. (The situation is more towards VR? AR? I’m not sure what to call it) The Player has their memories intact.

The story is just Player goofing around in Undertale, until plot happens, but I didn’t really like the idea as I have no clue how to progress the story forward, so the whole story was re-written.

Player mostly hack codes, while Frisk has the Reset/Reload button.

Initially, their eyes didn’t change colour when using abilities. But I wanted to distinguish what and when the abilities are used.

Version 2:

This is where, I decided that the Player actually inhibits Frisk body, though they are not amnesiac. Frisk is like a ghost (narrator?) here. The image above is post-skip version to maybe 1 year trapped in Undertale. This idea was scrap and rewritten due “Chara” ‘s story and I wanted to involved Gaster in the story. (Also, because I didn’t want to draw this version hairstyle anymore, hahaha (  ≧ᗜ≦))

Player has both the hacking and reset/reload abilities.

This version of Player is more uptight and serious.

Version 3:

I think this is like 2nd or 3rd version of the finalise concept. 

Our current Player. I made the hairstyle simpler.

This Player inhibits Frisk body and is amnesiac. The personality shifted so it’s easier for the player to act consistent. This version is more carefree than ver 2, they are similar to ver 1.

First design of the Player (ver 3).

Despite being ver 3, I wanted to keep a bit of the ver 1 and 2 hairstyle but decided not to. Again, I wanted a simpler hairstyle.

This personality is just them being stress and filled with anxiety. A nervous wreck and a crybaby. Cries a lot at the first arc until they pull themselves together. But I didn’t wanna make them cry all throughout the story, if I continued to write them like that, I might ended up smacking Player myself hahaha. I ended up toning down the personality. 

Gaster would have replace Frisk as the ghost (narrator?). But I decided not doing it, because it conflict with the plot. That, and the story would be over much quicker with him around.

Side note: I had to change the relationship between Sans and the Player(hate, confuse, no interaction, chill, idk? etc), a lot of times, but in the end I decided to make him not trust the Player. 

Previously in most iteration, he just hates Player.  I planned to have him to kill the Player the first time they exited the ruins, but decided to go against it as it doesn’t really fit his style. Also, the story would go very differently if he did commit to it. Maybe one day I can make him kill them. In an alternate timeline maybe. ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Extras: Player in different outfits (loosely)based on the other fallen humans in this AU. (+ ruin outfit)

There is a reason, why the Player had worn some of these outfits in chapter 3 and 4. 

Don’t worry, it’s not originally the clothes worn by the other children, Toriel made them. She has spares. (Sorry, to the one that find it creepy, when it was first shown, hahahaha)

And, that’s all for now I am able to share, I wanted to show more, but I’m afraid, that’s already in the spoiler territory. 

Anyways-! Thank you again for the follow, each and every one of you are the best! And I hope you enjoyed the upcoming story! 

[takeomurasaki]

Hey takeo! How’s everything? Welcome to Tumblr and to the writing community. I read your post and I was hoping if you could write something for Izuku’s birthday? Maybe reader organizing a surprise party for him without him knowing? (Only if you want to that is)

And I can’t wait to see you grow here! I was once a small writer here (kind of still am) so I get how you feel about being on such a popular platform. And remember: writing’s supposed to be fun, not tiring. Post whatever’s on your mind.

Take care and stay safe!

Hi Moonlight, Thank you so much for the request and the kind welcoming message! I'm really grateful for your kindness and hope you grow even more as a writer 🙏🏻

I adore this idea and hope I could interpret what you had in mind, hope you enjoy this 🩵

" Perfect Birthday for Him 💚 "

Izuku Midoriya x GN!Reader

Type: Romantic, Fluff, One-shot.

Summary: Surprise party for Izuku's birthday.

Word Count : 2005 words

You put your hand on your hip, the other on your forehead. The cake was finally in the oven.

"I can't believe I beat the squad to it! It was exhausting but everything's ready cake wise."

"Could you help me clean now? First you kidnap me from my morning training to bake a fucking cake for Deku and now you won't even clean. Damn extra!" Bakugo screamed-whispered in your ears. It was still early and if the both of you woke the others up, Izuku might wake up, and that's a no-go.

You weren't the best at baking, that was a flaw of yours but you always tried your best at it. That failed this time around, though. You had tried to prepare a cake for Izuku's birthday but you mixed the cake mix with too much olive oil and it was ruined and smelled terrible. Thank God you knew just the right person to help you: Bakugo. He might be a douche, he was the best at baking so you asked him regardless. The blonde wasn't dumb, he saw in your eyes that this cake meant a lot to you, and he sure could see you wanted to impress his childhood friend. Your eyes were shining and a deeper colour than they used to be, your cheeks were tinted red and sweat dripped from your forehead. Your hair was messy from the rush you had been in for the past couple days preparing the perfect birthday for Midoriya.

He found that funny and laughed at your face, but followed through with your plan anyway. He's not a monster, why wouldn't he help his nerdy childhood bestie get game?

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming. You're going to wake them up if you keep speaking so loud Bakugo please.." You sighed in complete despair and closed your eyes. He sure could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

As you were washing the dishes and Bakugo finishing cleaning the countertop, he spoke out of the blue.

"Say professional simp, why'd you stress so much over that birthday party anyway? You know damn well he's gonna enjoy it if it's you preparing it for fuck's sake." He said rather loudly, grinning like a mad man, he REALLY was a pain in the ass today.

"Bakugo I- He- What? Oh my God" you facepalmed, your face so red your ears began to redden too. You gritted your teeth, this guy was gonna ruin the plan it he keeps at it. "Shut the fuck up and don't speak so loud! Get back to cleaning." You got back to cleaning the dishes, furrowing your brows still red faced. You did hope he was right, that Izuku was gonna like it and actually realize you liked him bad, like bad bad !

Let's not forget who Midoriya is, he gets quite oblivious when it comes to love. Random people were hitting on him at least once a month in the most random places ever and he never suspected a thing, he thought they were just being nice.

That made you fall deeper for the green haired boy if you were honest, you found that just so cute. He always was but his oblivion to others' perception of him added to his natural charm.

You could not mess today up, you were a compassionate and thoughtful friend who always went above and beyond to make your loved ones feel special. You have a knack for creating unforgettable moments and ensuring that every detail is perfect when it comes to showing someone how much they mean to you, mostly Izuku.

It was your chance of getting him to be aware of himself and his attractiveness that you admired deeply, too.

Later on, you went to Mr. Aizaiwa. He wasn't your teacher, you were in class 1-C, but he was Midoriyas and he was helping the whole plan happen out of sheer boredom. He was indeed the weirdest teacher you'd ever met.

It was lunch time, the perfect timing to meet him and discuss today's matter. You knocked on the almost empty classroom's door and entered slowly.

Internally you were an absolute mess. Trying to keep your composure wasn't easy as a swarm of butterflies filled your stomach to the brim, the anticipation was overbearing. The party was getting closer.

"Hello Aizaiwa sensei. Do you remember about Izuku's birthday party perchance? Do we have permission?" You managed to smile somewhat normally with sweaty palms.

He looked up from his spot, tucked in his sleeping bag about to fall asleep from the bags under his eyes. "Hello Y/N L/N, I do remember problem child's birthday party... Principal Nezu is okay with the party being held in the dorm's common room. You will have to mark out the things you're using from the school on a paper though so we know what you took. Dismiss now, I'm sleepy, kid." And with that he just fell on the ground and closed his sleeping bag further, till we couldn't see his face.

You did a little happy dance, how could you not? You had everything planned out perfectly. You rushed out of the classroom to prepare the decorations and the organization.

You were by yourself to prepare the room and all. The others were still in class. After class was done everyone has to come here and finish preparing everything with you, excluding Ochaco of course. She was his current best friend and was tasked to keep him occupied for sometime so we could all hide and all. Honestly your excited was making you go faster than you anticipated, your breath was warm as you were going up and down chairs to be tall enough to reach the ceiling and put the All Might banner and balloons you managed to obtain.

You carefully placed the plates and cups, All Might themed of course, on the table. Each plate and cup with a name on it so no one would get mixed up, that also prevented you from forgetting anyone. You prepared the soft and energy drinks you had brought the day before and put them on the table alongside crackers, chips and nerunerune kits. Candy for the sweet guy, you were proud of the connection you had made at the supermarket. You even got to use UA's party things, so you had confetti on the table, on the ground and even found a red carpet to put at the door leading to Midoriya's chair. Oh his chair, you took an extra time on it. It had little All Might stickers on it you brought for this special occasion, an All Might cushion sitting bare seemingly waiting for Izuku to sit down on. You were overjoyed it was so perfect and turned out how you imagined it.

After the bell rang, the others rushed to the dorm and were surprised to see you had done everything. You took the paper hats, All Might themed why wouldn't they be, and ended one to each and everyone. Mina insisted on having colorful streamers, you couldn't disagree it was a great idea for sure, the clean up was going to be a nightmare but that's for later.

You all got in your hiding spots and turned off the lights, Ochako texted you and said she was near with Midoriya. Your heart was racing, your face red. Barely hyperventilating at this point, you brushed your palm against your chest to contain your excitement. The door clicked open.

"Ochako-san? Why is it so dark in there?" Midoriya was intrigued and turned on the light. Seconds after, you all jumped up and screamed happy birthday to the birthday boy. Midoriya was surprised, his eyes wide and sparkling as he scanned the place and everyone in the room. He smiled brightly, showing his pearly white teeth. His cheeks tinted pink at this point. He thanked everyone, one by one, until it was you left. He approached you, he seemed excited from what you could tell.

"My raitō! Everyone told me you planned all this and I could never thank you enough!" He engulfed you in his muscular arms.

Your eyes widened, he had just called you his precious and on top of that he was hugging you. Heat rushed to your whole face and ears. Your pupils dilated, you inhaled his sweet scent that filled your lungs to the brim. You giggled finally hugging him back.

"It was nothing Izu, nothing is enough to compare to you." You admitted, a knot forming in your throat as the words spilled out your mouth. Izuku instantly lifted his head up from the hug and he was scarlet red at this point. He started stuttering and muttering, you couldn't really understand what he was saying so you just laughed. With the courage you had managed to form you gave him a small peck on the cheek and went to Todoroki to get the gifts out of their hiding spots in his room.

Izuku was frozen in place, his chin trembled as he tried to process what just happened. His hand trailed slowly to his cheek and realization hit him straight in the face. He had not studied them enough, that wasn't in his notes.

The time for the gifts came, everyone hurried at the table as Izuku sat down on his custom chair. He was so nervous, that was a lot of attention on him at once and you were still there, sweetly grinning at him. He opened each gift gently as to keep the All Might merched wrapping paper and thanked everyone for their gifts. The last one was yours and he was absolutely thrilled, his palms shaking and his heart racing. He opened the box hidden under the wrapping paper and lifted an eyebrow, the box was empty.

"Is- is this normal Y/N ?" He said scanning the box, flipping it upside down and shaking it.

You were freaking out. Everything was perfect but this. The gift wasn't in the box. Without even thinking, you screamed, terrified and hurried to Todoroki's room, it must still be there. Izuku followed you and motioned the others to stay put in their place.

"Where the fuck is it!? I swear it was just there!" Your eyes scanned every corner of Todoroki's room in desperation. You were moving every single piece of furniture trying to find the gift for Izuku, you rambled on about where it could be and didn't hear it feel Izuku's presence in the room. His brows narrowed and he stepped towards you. He placed his hand on your shoulder stopping you dead in your tracks. You were crying, the frustration was too much for your poor heart and soul to handle.

He opened his arms and smiled at you,

"Y/N please calm down, I don't need a material gift it's all fine I promise. We can have fun with the others and we'll search for the gift after the party how does that sound to you? Is this ok?"

You accepted the embrace, slowly nodded rubbing your eyes. "I guess this is. I'm so sorry Zuku it was meant to be a perfect birthday. I was so focused on you and your birthday party I even forgot to put the gift in the box." You managed to trail out between small whimpers and crys. Izuku gently rubbed your back as you confessed to him, he was happy you trusted him with your emotions. Seeing you vulnerable like this comforted his love for you, if you could break your outer walls down for him, he could do the same for you.

"I understand the struggle, it was the same to me when it was your birthday honestly. You're just so mesmerizing I lost myself for a moment." You looked at him with mouth agape, face redder than it had ever been. He chuckled and pecked your forehead, just as red as you were.

"Your presence and attention towards me and my birthday is the greatest gift you could have given me, Aijin."

Takeo.

[balancingdiet]

So i just finished the movie earlier and I am in so much feels right now HAHAHA. Just a mini rant regarding the movie! MAJOR spoilers ahead

i'm so happy i went in blind for the movie so i literally have 0 information about it. The only thing I know was Heiji and Kaitou Kid were gonna be it. So colour me surprise when there were a lot more easter eggs and fun references to canon scenes than I expected, and I do semi-enjoy them. But I was truly SHOOKEDTH when Aoko appeared. I literally gasped and was screaming internally in the cinema because MY BABY GIRL??? While it made sense that she should be there when Inspector Nakamori was shot, I still didn't expect her to be included in the movie at all. Every scene with her were the best moments I had tbh, followed closely by Kaitou Kid's angst when he couldn't save Inspector Nakamori (hmm yes i love the pain and guilt and emotional distress HAHAHAH) I would probably need a second or third watch to fully grasp how they solve the riddles to the treasure thingy, but I'm okay to cast that concern aside in exchange for enjoyable, strong character-driven moments! But sadly, the dynamics were kinda lacking in this movie for me. There were just so many things going on, with the confession plan, then the murder, then the kidnapping, then the riddle, then the story of the swords... you get it. This movie had so many things going on that nothing was going on at the same time? I felt like if I were to watch any other movie with Heiji&Conan/Kid&Conan/Heiji&Kid in it, their dynamics would be the same and underdeveloped. In fact, what I love were actually the unconventional or lesser popular dynamics? Like I mentioned, Aoko really steal the show, and I enjoyed her interaction with Conan and referencing to Kaito's younger self LOL. And when Ran noticed and was supportive of Heiji's confession plan, their moments were super nice and cute too! (Though it was no shocker when Heiji's confession was ruined, once again. At this point I really do feel bad for him.) Now, to the important part: the cousin reveal HAHAHHAHA When Heiji asked Conan if he has a sibling or something, I was kinda "hmm??", but I didn't thought they would really go with the reveal in this movie. While being a KaiShin shipper, I still adore ShinRan and KaiAo a lot (those KaiAo crumbs cured my sadness HAHAHA). I'm not sure if I would incorporate this new reveal into any future KaiShin fics (if I'm writing any), but still I am kinda disappointed that they decided to reveal it this way, like it's just a "by the way thing". But what was worse was that Toichi is indeed really alive, with this information backed and followed up since the Midnight Crow arc in Magic Kaito Manga. This "plot twist" actually felt rather flat, like it was done just for the shock factor and not for substance. Like there really wasn't a point for it? Unless the dcmk verse is really going to unite and they are going to take down the BO + Snake gang together in the future? Idk. This whole thing feels cheap... and an unnecessary plot device. Honestly, it would be a lot cooler if Phantom lady (Chikage) plays a more active role than Toichi's "Kaitou Corbeau". His actual death was what motivated and made Kaito who Kaito is today. And to just rip that away because Gosho cannot allow good characters to remain dead... is just kinda ugh. MagicKaito-verse is kinda messed up for me now and I felt a little bit sad when I walk out of the cinema after that LOL. I still love DCMK and I will always adore all the characters in my heart (bigger shoutout to Aoko though LOL), but I just hope that whatever direction Gosho takes with the story, it's for the better: Rather than relying on the characters to make the plot interesting, he should address/better the plot that drives the characters to complete their interesting stories. Not sure if this make sense but yeah. Oh well, if you have read till this far, thank you for hearing my long rant! I do feel a bit better after this HAHAHAHA

[wayfayrr]

I finished my tattoo sleeve 🎉 took 3 sessions, and I almost fell asleep while my tattoo artist was doing my bicep, but I’m done ✨ But got me thinking, what’s your thoughts on Hylian vs Human customs when it comes to tattoos? And piercings too, cause thinking on that too, got a couple ear piercings, snake bites, septum, and a nose ring on both sides, love to know your thoughts on this <3

Also, while we’re on the subject, when it comes to pain, what do you think is the difference between Hylians and Humans? Like do you think humans can take more pain? Not sure if you’ve said much on this topic, but I love to hear any thoughts on these things <33

~🍀 anon

CONGRATS ON THE SLEEVE CLOVER!!!! I bet it looks fantastic and that the sessions were all worth it <3 (also your piercings sound super neat too <333)

but about the differing customs when it comes to tattoos? (are there any characters with tattoos now that I think about it?) I think hylians put a lot more meaning behind any tattoo. As in you are not allowed to be tattooed unless there is a good enough reason. Partly due to how hylia sees hyilans as pure and perfect so they shouldn't need to stain their skin like that (I should say I don't have anything against tattoos whatsoever and I'm trying to work up the courage to get one so none of that reflects my irl opinion) Whereas piercings seem to be a right of passage, with the links getting their ears peirced with their hoops when they come of age, it's not about self-expression as much as upholding traditions to hylians

humans on the otherhand? Self-expression all the way babyyyy, you already wear more colourful and patterned clothes than they do. humans make more of a celebration of the self rather than being more 'holy', it helps when you don't have a being like hylia keeping a constant watch for everyone to be held up to impossibly high standards. piercings are another part of self expression, there's no pressure to get them and there's also nothing stopping people who do want them I also think that human tattoos would be far more colourful than any hylian ones, with their's tending to be solely using black ink if there is any present. So I think any fun tattoos would surprise the chain a lot, even sky seeing as he grew up with a lot of hylian societal expectations on him, he's human yes - but he's ripped so far from his culture that I think he'd have a mourning period over what he could - should have had. Not that he doesn't like skyloft, it's just - what could have been.

as for pain tolerance! Thats another reason I came into the sky is a human headcanon, I think that hylians have a lot lower pain tolerance than humans, And if sky is human then this is actually supported by the game! almost every single link starts with three hearts - sky starts with six. it's not like any other hylians are going to be stumbling upon heart containers either I kinda like the idea that later heroes had to be given more potential heart containers to find just to be on par with sky for how much damage they CAN take let alone their pain tolerance. It's hard to make direct comparisons honestly but I think sky would be able to shake off a lot more than the others - say a broken arm perhaps. sure he'd be in pain but he can have it cast and then go around as normal till it's healed. or well, normal as you can with a broken arm yk? if say - time broke his arm it would probably mean bed rest for him until he's healed (although unlike sky he could set the bone and chug down a couple of potions to be done with it in a matter of hours)

[sol-consort]

Not to be graphic but do you think Krogan penis' look like those dragon dildos? Like, is Wrex just packing monstrously? Thoughts?

Please be as graphic as your heart desires. In fact, let's theorise with the whole class on which bad dragon dildos fit the biology of the Mass Effect alien species the closest!

Smut below - linked pictures

Korgans

They are 100% packing monsters down there. Have you seen the size of korgans? I mean, they have heat cycles. There is a possibility they actually knot and have to wait a while, in order for their cock to go soft before pulling out.

Candidate one

A thick head that pops into place, an even thicker shaft that quickly narrows down at the end to make you "swallow" the thing whole in a semi-locking mechanism. It's harder for it to slip out that way, like a plug...a very long and big one.

I like the detail of the blunt spikes on the pubic area. They might feel good to grind against. The subtle ridges at the underside, those must feel amazing sliding against your walls, the bumps increasing and becoming more prominent the deeper it goes.

Humans definitely feel tighter to them. It's borderline painful for krogans. Luckily, the pain and pleasure wires in their brains are usually crossed. There's a noticeable raise below your stomach, where their cock is bulging out. literally making a space for itself amidst your organs and forcing your body to adjust to it. Korgans do get a slight ego boost from it, the humans are so easy to fill out and are as tight as a fist.

-

Turians

Candidate one

While the size is more comfortable and similar to humans, albet slightly bigger and more curved, the shape and function differ a lot.

The upper half is smooth with a very saturated neon-like colour, slightly florescent in the dark—cum too—rather than there being a defined "head" with a urethral orifice, the whole upper half is responsible for semen distribution. Basically, the whole upper half gets wet with pre-cum the more turned on they get, leaking everywhere. Purposely evolved to become self-lubricant and as smooth as possible to slide in seamlessly with no preparation required. It's also the most sensitive part. They can practically feel it kiss the entrance to your womb/rectum with each thrust.

The lower half is made out of many curves wrapping in around themselves. You feel every vein and large bump the more it slides inside. It's a completely different experience than taking the upper half, which should've prepared you for this by now. It clogs your entrance fully, preventing any cum from flowing out.

That's because...well, they cum in noticeably much larger quantities, made to overflow your insides. That's why burying their cock down to the hilt is so important no matter how intimidating it might seem to take in, their instincts won't let them finish unless they're fully inside you, it's etched into their biology.

Sleeping with humans to them is... hmmm.

In the nicest way possible, if turians had our equivalent of "high-end expensive sex dolls," it would be human shaped. Extremely fetishized, kinda? We are soft, very soft in their opinion. It's not just our lack of metallic plates, but the fact that our bodies are filled out in all the right areas. The way they can see our hips curve upwards into our waist, how they can grab a fistful of a human's ass and just squeeze, the plump thighs, the tender soft chest and completely bare and uncovered stomach.

Even a human's cock looks "pretty" in their opinion. Carefully with their claws with it, preferring to wrap their long together around it and squeeze.

We look like we were made to be fucked, as if our whole evaluationary purpose was to be bred.

The final nail in the coffin was them finding out that human insides are somehow ten times as soft as their outside. Turians can fit their entire tongue in there—the taste is strangely sweet to them despite being deathly allergic to literally every other thing in humans. It's like finding a flower with the most poisonous petals yet containing the sweetest necter in its centre.

The more a turian sleeps with a human, the higher the risk of them getting addicted to human sex. You're pliable and pliant. You don't fight back when they pin you. Turian sex is usually more rough. There is a whole lot great deal of teeth, claws, and other stuff involved. Blood is not out of the question sometimes. A battle for dominance.

But humans just...surrender immediately. At least they interpret our enthusiasm in bed as that. The eagerness to obey, the desperation to be fucked, begging for the turian cum and grinding back against them, meeting them halfway through every thrust. It's their wildest dreams come true, what's a wet dream to most turians is a reality with every human.

-

Drell

So, a fun fact about their skin! It's covered in millions and millions of tiny scales, giving it the illusion of seeming smooth. It probably feels more on the rougher side.

Which is why I think this is fitting

Candidate one

It's firm to the touch rather than fleshy. You can feel each one of the hundred tiny bumps lining its underside. The head is round and thick, a little tricky to get inside. But once it's in, everything else slides in smoothly, perfectly slotting into place.

It makes your insides adjust to its shape, not the other way around. It almost feels like a fully solid object. The scales gliding against your walls, scrubbing them in the best way possible. No amount of wetness will make its shape any less prominent, practically moulding your insides to memorise every curve and bump.

The scales grow towards the base, resulting in them flourishing out whenever the cock is sliding out, making it easier to thrust in than thrust out, the round head staying inside at all times.

The human body barely recognises the drell cock as a reproductive organ. Your brain's natural reaction is to attempt and push it out, even if you try and suppress it.

Resulting in a semi-spasming motion, the constant involuntary contrast and release of your wall muscles against the drell cock is absolutely driving them crazy, they have to fight an early orgasm each time. You try to explain that you can't control it.

While an oral ingestion of any drell fluids may cause hallucinations, that process becomes much faster with their cock inside you, analy or else, humans are slowly lulled into a state of intoxication which may manifest in euphoria, arousal and haziness.

I'd like to think that their cum is an aphrodisiac to humans, each time they finish inside you, the urge to get fucked again becomes stronger and stronger. harmless human/drell sex can easily spiral into the dangerous territory, hours melting into one another, your body overstimulating their cock constantly, while you're pumped full of aphrodisiacs.

While the rough feeling of their cock is amazing at the moment—partly thanks to your brain swimming in happy chemicals—it will leave you sore for days afterwards. The inside of your thighs are reddish and agitated from being brushed back and forth against the drell scales for so many hours, your insides feel like they're on fire, you can barely sit down without wincing.

There are two ways to remedy this:

A week full of rest, medical ointments, oils and painkillers

Let them fuck you & cum inside you again

Because sleeping with them again will completely wash away all feelings of discomfort as the cycle is reset. If you want a middle ground, a kiss or two, maybe even eating you out will be more than enough to get rid of the symptoms without digging yourself into a deeper hole.

To drell, sleeping with humans is extremely pleasant. Much like the turians' experience, everything in that section also applies to them. Drell bodies are made to account for all of these things in their drell partners... but humans are literally defenceless. Your body has no option but to take it. Not only that, but it's confused to what the thing pushing into them is that it's alien in every sense of the world.

Watching you try your hardest to take their cock inside and resist the intoxication each time, nursing a hangover and a sore body the next week. It fills them with immense guilt, which manifests into actual physical pain for them because that's how their emotions work. It's unbearable. That's why most drell avoid penetration when sleeping with humans, despite how being inside you is the closest to heaven they've ever felt.

[ladespeinada]

Some thoughts on season three of The Bear, hastily written after finishing it:

Sydney Adamu. My love, my life, my heart, my soul. Her frustration just grew and grew and grew throughout the season, and underpinned with that score, made me increasingly anxious until it finally culminated in that intense panic attack she had outside of her apartment (at which point, it felt cathartic.) She’s so clearly mirroring Carmy and his relationship with his old boss, down to panicking in the same spot. I want better for her, in multiple ways, up to and including healthcare benefits.

Which leads me to: why the fuck was Nat working so close to her due date, and why did no one push back against her going to pick up boxes of napkins when she’s literally about to burst. I know it meant that we got Ice Chips out of it, and an episode focused on Nat and Donna, but it didn’t make sense to me.

“I left you alone.” “So, don’t let it happen again.” “It’s never gonna happen again.” That blue-eyed, curly-haired, Grecian-faced man lied in Sydney’s face, thinking that being physically present in the same space and working in proximity means the same thing as not leaving her alone. Sydney was more alone in this season than she was in the season two when Carmy fucked off and hung out with Claire and talked about emergency room horror stories.

The presence of the Faks was overwhelming this season, which ended up feeling like purely ornamental proof that The Bear is indeed a comedy because look at these bumbling fools! They’re funny! They’re little jesters! Any and every self-serious restaurant after a Michelin Star will surely have Two Little Guys at the helm, no matter if they have no serious training or serving skills!! It’s not as if said self-serious restaurants aren’t regularly draining money on overhead costs, of which labour is surely a part of! (Why did the Computer only suggest Marcus get cut from The Bear, and not the fucking Faks? Are they not getting paid? What the hell is the deal there? These are not serious people.)

“If you fuck with Marcus, I will murder you.” IKTR!!!!!!

Why did the screen time for all of the characters of colour get minimised, especially in comparison to last season. Why did neither Angel or Manny have any major lines that weren’t just curse words, or scenes where they were interacting with others beyond washing dishes. Why did I see the Faks more than I saw Sydney. I wanted to see more of Gary’s somm classes. I wanted to see more Ebra. I wanted to see more of Marcus’ desserts. I also wanted to see Marcus more actively hanging out with Luca. I wanted more scenes with Tina and Marcus cooking together, riffing off of each other and their experiences!

Finally, some interiority for my sweetiepie Tina Marrera! That said, we mostly got a look at her past, and a limited look at her present (my girl is experiencing some massive imposter syndrome, but we don’t get to dig into it much. Nor do we get many Tina x Ebra moments which is an affront to me personally because their relationship is my favourite). I read this Slate review of season three by Jack Hamilton after I finished watching season three, and while I don’t agree with everything, I found this articulation especially in line with my thinking re: Tina and her episode: “The incessant use of flashbacks feels like a crutch to avoid characters or the show itself actually moving forward, in any direction. Dribbling out details of a character’s past like breadcrumbs is a hackish and tiresome device: Filling in backstory shouldn’t be confused with character development.”

That said!!! The scenes with Michael, especially in Tina’s episode, are incredible. Just a few minutes and you can see the shine of Michael’s charisma, the underbelly of his pain, you miss him and want him back, you see why everyone loved him so deeply. He was so magnetic in this episode, and so terrifying in Forks, and the decline in between those episodes must’ve been so painful to watch. 

This might sound silly to say because it was still very much everywhere, especially in the beginning of EP2, but Chicago felt like it was missing. Or rather, the anxieties of Chicago were missing. In seasons one and two, there’s the looming threat of Chicago gentrification (in one, The Beef is hurt by it; in two, The Bear is a part of it), plus there’s the aftereffects of COVID on Chicago’s restaurant scene. In season three, we got shots of Chicago, yes, and a lot of like, Wilco or whatever, but it didn’t feel grounded in the city the way it had in previous seasons. Not quite sure how to articulate this thought, but there you go.

The “haunting” the Faks go on and on (and on and on) about is so hamfisted, and felt so out of place for a show whose writing is usually quite taut, especially in its comedic moments. It’s just bashing you over the head with the idea that omg, it’s not just the dead that can haunt the living, the living can as well! What an idea!

I really wish Claire’s character was better written, but once again, her characterisation fell flat because she’s presented in mostly flashbacks, and through Carmy’s perspective at that, and that man apparently has difficulties understanding that she’s meant to be a person and not just a concept.

The moment in the final episode, where Syd and Carm are eating with other chefs at Ever, and one of them says “the greatest mistake is working for a bad boss, such that, what it unlocks in you is the culture that you choose to create”....hilariously unsubtle but fantastic nonetheless, because it’s followed by Carm confronting his nightmare boss (David Fields! I def did think he was a hallucination Carm was experiencing at Ever's funeral), and because it’s absolutely clear that Carm is also a fucking bad boss, and Sydney should absolutely not sign those papers. (I don’t think she should go with Adam and his new restaurant either, because the vibes are off there, too.) 

Along those lines: that moment where Carmy says, I think about you too much, and Fields responds with, I don’t think about you was fantastic, but also felt unearned.

Olivia Coleman’s Chef Terry saying, Service, bitches! was tremendous. 

Reiterating that I wanted to see more of Luca and Marcus together. I love them, your honour.

Selfishly, I indulged and binged this season because I was hoping it would unlock inspiration for me to keep writing my Tina fic and just fic in general but I don't think it did that, unfortch.

(Last thing: yet another season with Taylor Swift but no Fall Out Boy. We continue to suffer.)

[repressionmd]

3 7 and 15!! :DD i love question #3 bc it always tickles me to know what people hate, petty style

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

this is such an interesting question sfgjk because i actually read like. a lot of stuff 😭 and i guess i wouldn't necessarily say that i hate it but i do instantly switch off when like. piss kinks r involved i really don't get it i get the control element but 👋(>_<)

although i think i hate homophobic house i'll be so fr he would Not say that. i don't care i just don't see him digging up deadnames to dig at people with absolutely no other prongs to the attack ??? like there has to be some kind of reason with it idk + when people remove that in favour of "oh he's just being his regular brand of asshole" i rly don't like it

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

i can't believe you've made me do this 😭 but ok this snippet from this thing is supposed to be give-and-take:

"You would have come at any time, even if it was worse, even though it upsets you, because you like me." House knew it upset him? He still called? Wilson held every muscle in place. Stayed silent, held the eye contact. Held House's arm that he'd finished bandaging already but didn't want to let go of. Waited for the inevitable joke. House's eyes widened, shone with a new light. "You like me!" For one aching, fleeting second, Wilson thought House was about to kiss him, but Wilson jerked back, letting go. He ignored every instinct in his mind telling him to move in closer. He was intimately aware of the heat of House's thigh against his, the ghost of House's arm on his hand, the memory of House's head on his shoulder. "House. Shut up." House was high. He was drunk, he was exhausted and in pain. He didn't know what he was doing. They couldn't do this.

because there's just SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION!!! wilson in this fic has been pushing back his own memories to compartmentalise and take care of house - and his first reaction to "you like me" is skipping that bit and going Back to feeling like house called him because he doesn't care about wilson's emotions. the reality is ... complicated. the reality is house trusts wilson intimately, trusts him to do what needs to be done, and house doesn't know the extent of wilson's trauma. "even though it upsets you" isn't supposed to mean "i purposefully called you to trigger you", it's supposed to mean "im sorry i hurt myself because i know it freaks you out"

and then wilson realises that house is serious about the confession (!!!) but he can't Deal with That. he wants it he wants it so bad, i think house is realising his crush for the first time but wilson has been repressing his feelings for months if not longer. so he tries to convince himself its not real and runs away <3 made even more poignant by wilson having previously made the observation that house was 1. coming down from being high, 2. not that drunk, 3. probably has had a nap and 4. not in any more pain than he's used to. he's thinking clearly for once, and wilson can't.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

ough this is hard because 2 out of the 4 fics im thinking of (my 3 posted ones + kutner lives) are fix-it? i'd absolutely love to see the kutnerfic filmed though i think you could do so much with the opening sequence in that way that the show makes certain scenes have that air of delirium and panic. you could do so much with colour and lighting and sound and aughhh plus we could see more kutner!!! yay!!! also hilson are married in there. so that's always a bonus <3

[moghraidhs]

"that shouldn't have happened" for charlie...(sorry) (not sorry)

this got away from me but it was worth it

tw for ptsd, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied past sa

He shouldn't have come.

The beer tingles the back of Charlie's throat, leaving him pleasantly warm. He's had at least one too many, if the slight haziness of his mind is any indication, but he has a feeling it would take an entire gallon of alcohol to block out the memories stirred up by tonight.

There are familiar faces dotted all throughout the room. Boone is singing along to Major Egan's terrible rendition of Blue Skies. Sawyer is talking to Hambone. Max and Gabe are leaning against the far wall with whiskeys in hand, pretending to scope out the room as if either of them has the slightest intention of dancing with any of the girls there.

If he'd had two or three beers more, Charlie might tell them to stop fucking around and actually talk to each other - but he's just sober enough not to do that right now.

A glint of gold hair and broad shoulders catches his eye.

Forrest, of course. Still in military uniform rather than civilian clothing like most of the men, obviously continuing his family's oh-so-proud tradition. The ring on his left hand is new. The misery underlying his broad grin is not.

Charlie knows how he feels.

Forrest must sense him watching somehow, because he looks across the room. The expression in his eyes is one Charlie's seen a dozen times before: hunger, underpinned by shame.

Charlie had promised himself a long time ago that he and Forrest were never fucking again. Had meant every word of it. But he's tired and a little drunk and there are too many ghosts in the room, hovering in the corners with hollow eyes and burnt faces.

He's still trying to decide what to do, Forrest approaching steadily, when there's a voice at his elbow.

"Want to get out of here?" Jamie's smile is bright, but his hands are shaking a bit, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. He's never gotten used to crowds since…since…

Fuck off, Charlie tells the ghosts in his head. Maybe this is just what he needs. "Sure."

He follows Jamie outside. Doesn't bother to turn and see if Forrest is watching.

The air is just starting to turn cool, the sky a hazy colour between purple and navy. It's a nice change from the heat, the music, and the smell of cigarettes, whisky, and too many bodies inside.

They find a half empty crate of beer by one of the storage sheds and grab a few. Jamie's cheeks are flushed a bit, and he coughs after his first few swallows. That doesn't stop him from finishing the bottle, or opening a second. Charlie watches him and tries to remember if he'd drunk this much back when they were at Thorpe Abbotts. He can't recall.

Then again, war changes everyone.

"How are you doing?" Jamie asks, because he's nice like that. He always had been, even in the st–

"Okay," Charlie says. It's a fairly truthful answer. "You?"

Jamie takes another swallow of beer before he answers. "My brother got married."

"Oh." Charlie's not sure what to say to that. He remembers Jamie talking about his younger brother. Kid was a paratrooper in the Airborne or something like that. It had been obvious that Jamie adored him. Yet his tone sounds anything but happy. "Congratulations."

"He didn't tell me." Jamie's voice is soft, defeated. "It happened a month after I got back. I only found out because I saw it in the paper."

Oh.

"I thought it'd be better after the war, y'know?" Jamie swirls his bottle around aimlessly. "Thought he'd stop hating me so much. Guess I didn't realise how bad it was."

Charlie sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry."

He's not sure what else to say. Jamie's always been the "mom" of their crew - mama bird, Sawyer and Denny used to call him. Looked after everyone without a word of complaint. Charlie's pretty sure he wouldn't even be talking about this if he were sober, but nights like this have a way of opening up every wound, fresh and raw and painful.

Yet another reason why he shouldn't have come.

Jamie inhales shakily and puts his hands over his face. He's crying.

Fuck, Charlie hates this. He's no good at this kind of thing. Part of him wants to get up, slip back inside and let Jamie cry it out alone.

But that's cruel. Too much so, even for him. It's Jamie, for pete's sake.

He swallows his discomfort and puts his bottle down, slipping an arm around Jamie's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says again. It's all he has.

Jamie turns into him, burying his face in Charlie's shoulder. He's still crying, quietly and hopelessly, like a kid who knows no one is coming for him.

It makes Charlie ache and rage at the same time.

"It's going to be okay." Probably a lie, but he doesn't know what else to say. He rubs his free hand lightly over Jamie's back, up and down. "It'll be okay."

Jamie pulls back a bit, his breath hitching raggedly. His cheeks are wet, eyes red-rimmed and glossy. He's too close.

Something kicks to life in Charlie's gut.

Forrest had called him fucked in the head once after a mission, saying he didn't know the difference between sex and comfort. Charlie had smiled at him and asked if that meant he didn't want his cock sucked. An hour later, he'd returned to the barracks with a split lip and the taste of Forrest in the back of his throat.

Jamie isn't Forrest. Hell, Charlie doesn't even know if he likes anything other than girls. But the beer is clouding his head, and the ghosts are whispering in his ear, and Jamie's looking at him, all big eyes and shaky hands and so much hurt bleeding out of him Charlie can all but taste it.

In the end, he's not sure who makes the first move. Doesn't really matter, to be honest. His mouth collides with Jamie's, wet and messy and more than a little desperate.

Jamie tastes like salt and beer. His lips are soft and a bit chapped, and he's awkward at first but so so needy, kissing Charlie like his life depends on it.

It feels good to be needed.

"Get on my lap," he says, and Jamie does. It makes Charlie's head spin a little bit, though that could be just the beer. He tips his head back, out of reach of another kiss, and Jamie fucking whines.

"It's okay," Charlie says softly. He kisses the tears on Jamie's cheeks, grazes his lips just a little. "It's gonna be okay. I'll look after you."

This is such a fucking terrible idea. But in another scenario, he could be on his knees sucking Forrest off before being left alone to clean himself up. Kissing Jamie, rocking him back and forth along his thigh, can't be so bad compared to that.

Right?

He bucks his hips a bit, prompting a shudder as Jamie whimpers into his mouth. "It's okay," he says again, and this time it's true, because there's no one better at this than him. Even the fucking Nazis had known that.

The thought leaves him cold and sick. He kisses Jamie again to make it go away.

This isn't the fucking stalag. He isn't anyone's toy. He's doing this because he wants to.

He tells himself that over and over as the band plays on inside and Jamie grinds against him, breath short and uneven. For someone who's never done this before, he catches on quickly.

Just because he can, Charlie reaches down and palms him through his trousers. He barely manages two strokes before Jamie comes, going rigid, a bitten-off gasp escaping kiss-swollen lips. He collapses against Charlie's neck with a little sob, trembling all over.

It takes approximately thirty seconds for the awfulness of what he's done to hit Charlie. No longer tipsy, he's suddenly very aware of the sticky mess soaking the front of Jamie's trousers, his own arousal, and the fading sparks in his stomach now souring to shame.

He's been to three reunions since the war ended. Hasn't managed to make it through one yet without fucking somebody. Yet this time it's so much worse, for more than one reason.

Jamie shivers against him. Charlie can't tell if he's still crying or not. Suddenly, violently, he wants to cry too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I…that shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

Jamie doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let go either. Unable to move, Charlie closes his eyes and lets the tears fall.

He shouldn't have come.

~

forbidden kiss prompts

[fatestayyuri]

FINALLY FINISHED WARD ARC 1

thoughts under the readmore

You can say a lot about wildbow but you can't say he isn't making Choices. Actually i can say that i'm pretty sure most of this is the grim cowardice of not actually examining his biases and just writing "what comes naturally" to a liberal poisoned by toxic yuri discourse.

God, where do i even begin? how about the thing that first stuck out to me, and also the 6 other people i for some reason ushered into this Stupid Fucking Journey: the prose. the prose is bad. it's really, really bad. it stretches longer than it should and lacks the earnest charm of like. all of the VN authors i read almost entirely because it drips with flecks of irony-poisoned Marvel Ooze.The mean thing to say is that he definitely writes like he writes WAY more than he reads; the more cynical analysis i've gotten from his other work is that he's gotten into a very comfortable rut. words and descriptions drag, there's a general roughness of typos pointed out in comments untouched, and on the whole it reeks (and requires me to put on the prerequisite filters) of sloppy translation.

But that's just one facet of the writing; I am a big proponent of roughness adding to the emotional resonance of the work. I uh. The actual happenings are... certainly something, alright. It's impossible for me i think to read this outside of the context of wildbow's Amy Dallon Brain Poisoning, where the recent interviews colour my perception of his work (insisting Victoria is not a cop) for the worse. I am also unlike Wildbow Not A Liberal? so the whole spiel about Justice and Punitive Measures flies over my head. It's a bit weird since I do think the specific unreliable narrator of Victoria is a fascinating mindset to read through, and her trauma relating to her sister is rather elegantly depicted at times.

The problem is that these depictions are in fact, ruined, by my knowledge of this work as Wildbow's Hit Piece on a 17 year old lesbian. Like, i cannot stress enough how much it all falls flat considering this is Victoria's Cop Pain shown to show us that actually Amy Dallon is irredeemable. maybe if i had read worm first? idk that might make me less sympathetic to this

Oh, right! the racism! one of the ways victoria's cop brain manifests is in weird word choices like "urban" and "troublemakers" / "mischief" but like. i'm not actually sure wildbow is aware of the character he is writing, or the territory he is in? the general feel of this is one where If this was done with intentionality and a materialistic analysis of the world it could be really good! unfortunately it's written by a liberal so like. it's not.

^ why. why. why. why.

i think the way that our book club is going (where everyone reads exactly (1) of wildbow's novel) is showing me the true breadth of wildbow's uh. Beliefset? worldview? worrying tendency for race science? anyways.

I feel like there's a skeleton for a really compelling story here. I genuinely like some of the depictions of trauma, the way that parental dynamics chafe, of being treated as a burden as a patient, of being laden with a really fucked up punitive mindset. I just wish like, it wasn't these characters, and it wasn't this writer.

[elisedonut]

TRICK OR TREAT!!! 👀🥺🎃

Thank you for playing! you get about 2k of a fic that i honestly don't think I'll ever finish

this is a little amnesia memories inspired au that i started a long time ago i keep messing with it and changing things but i just really doubt ill ever actually fully finish it

it was back when i was like oh maybe i could write something long and have like a chapter per character

and then quickly realized no no I can not

so it just kept getting shorter and then when i participated in that one event where i was assigned characters alot changed to before i decided to write something else kldfjsdkl

originally it was going to be like

Mc: Percy

Orion(spirit that causes mc to lose her memories): Cedric

Heart/Shin: Marcus

Diamond/Toma: Oliver

Spade/Ikki: Tom

Clover/Kent: Stan

and Joker/Ikyo: Fred or maybe also Cedric i was undecided

but I ended up replacing Tom with Lavender because the aforementioned fest that had assigned characters and was considering moving heart to Dennis before i gave up and just made a perciverus soulmate au dkfjsldkf

He was falling. Or perhaps it was more like floating?

The last thing he could even remember was… 

What was it again? He just had the thought in the back of his mind a moment ago he’s sure of it.

Percy watches the colours of the space around him swirl and mix, as if all the stars around him would hold the answer. Reaching out towards them as if he could grab them. 

What was he doing? 

He was at home before, wasn’t he?

A letter. 

Running out the door into the night to apparate.

Oliver was dead. Right? 

He was there when they had to lower him into the ground.

But– If that were true, then why– 

“Ollie?” Percy asks, cautiously. 

“Hm? Is that who I look like to you?” Not-Oliver asks back, tilting his head in a way that reminds Percy of when they– well when Percy and the real Oliver were still in school.

When Percy just continues to stare though Not-Oliver continues. “Guess so– Well I'm glad you’re awake. Do you feel any pain? Pressure in your head? Limbs feel numb?” 

He’s speaking so fast.

Percy tries to think about it for a moment. 

Tries to focus on different parts of his body. 

Tries reaching his fingers out towards the mysterious figure in front of him. When he finds that his fingers go right through him, Percy frowns. 

It was almost like he was more asleep than awake. 

Everything, just slightly off. Blurry in a way that made it difficult to even think.

Opening and closing his fists a few times Percy responds, “I- I don’t think I feel much of anything to be honest.” 

Likely that look on Not-Oliver’s face means that’s not a good thing. Even if it feels a bit freeing in Percy’s opinion. 

Almost peaceful.

“Ok so–” Not-Oliver starts again, “Look, I'm a spirit and I may have accidentally ran into you and I may accidentally be stuck,” The spirit?–apparently, continues. He doesn't look like any ghost Percy had ever seen. When Percy doesn’t respond, Not-Oliver continues again, “So I may or may not have accidently knocked your soul off course, out of your body. But, don’t panic. I do have a plan.”

Don’t panic, he says. Percy’s soul is apparently out of his body all together and he’s telling him not to panic. Taking in a deep breath and watching as Not-Oliver flinches Percy tries to calm himself down enough to listen. Motioning at Not-Oliver to continue again.

The sooner this was over with the better.

“You’re taking this a lot better than I was expecting you to, to be honest.” Not-Oliver says confused before shaking his head quickly and continuing, “Alright. So, here's the plan. I found a few worlds where you have a tether. so you just have to find the one that’s actually yours.”

“Pardon?” Percy asks, trying to wrap his head around what that could mean. 

“Exactly as I said, You just have to pick the one that feels right and I’ll plop you back into that body and then everything will be fine.” Not-Oliver says quickly before adding softly, “Hopefully.”

Before Percy can ask for clarification on what he meant by hopefully the stars around them change in the air, twisting around themselves.

For the first time since he woke up in this odd place, Percy feels like his feet are actually on the ground again. It continued like that for a few more seconds until four doors materialised in front of him. Each adjourned with a different symbol in the middle. 

A weathered and cracked red door with a heart symbol, messily painted on.

A polished and metallic looking blue door with the metal spade symbol neatly welded on.

A clear slightly green tinted door with a paper clover stuck between the plastic.

And Lastly, a bright yellow door with a diamond cut meticulously out of the wood.

All of the doors had a red string connecting to him. Percy’s not sure if that’s what Not-Oliver meant by a tether but if so that was quite more literal then he’d assumed. As he pulls on one of the strings he expects it to feel some tension but they each stay slack, regardless of how much he pulls.

As Percy inspects the doors he thinks about which he should choose. Percy’s still not a hundred percent sure this isn’t a dream. Maybe a potion fueled hallucination. Maybe George decided to put something in his wine for old times sake. 

Looking back at the Oliver doppelganger for a moment he seems to just be waiting patiently for him to come to a decision. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Or what he’s even supposed to be looking for. 

Is there even a right answer here? They all feel the same in a way. 

Do they even lead anywhere, or do they just open to an empty frame?

Should he even play along?

Walking behind the doors he sees that they look the same on the back as they do on the front. 

“Does it really matter which one I pick?” Percy asks.

“Well- they all lead to different worlds, so–” Not-Oliver says from over his shoulder. 

“So then there's definitely a wrong answer here…” Percy mutters as he walks up to the Red Door. “If I open the door, does that count as a choice or do I have to walk through it?”

Not-Oliver hums to himself for a moment before nodding,“You should be able to open them. As long as you don’t touch the actual portal then it shouldn’t do any harm.” 

Percy reached for the Red Door again. Not-Oliver didn’t sound very certain, but nothing was going to happen if he just sat there. Even if it isn’t real, he always had been too curious for his own good. So he may as well try. The door comes open with a loud creak from the hinges. 

Left with the sight of swirling foggy lights and stars,h e’s disappointed. It only takes a moment for it to clear though.

The angle is awkward so he can’t see much of the room. But he can see himself laid out on the bed. From the look of him he must have been here for a while. Bandages up and down his arms and legs. A side table with dying flowers and miscellaneous get well cards. 

Is this all he’s going to see in these? An unconscious body?

He’s here, wherever here actually is, so maybe the real him is just passed out somewhere, like that. If so though this isn’t going to be very helpful to him. 

Still, he doesn’t close the door. He still waits. Maybe someone will come in that could give him a clue. Or maybe something will happen to show it’s not the world he expects. 

It doesn’t take too long of a wait for the door to open. Percy can’t see who came in from the angle but he could hear the way the heavy door dragged as it opened and shut. The sound of footsteps and a chair being slid across the floor.

Then he gets his first glimpse of them when they pull Percy’s limp hand into their own. The red string on their hand was connected to his own.Their hands were large and rough, completely enveloping Percy’s own. The difference in their skin makes Percy even more confused. When the door opened he’d assumed it was some family member but that’s certainly not a Weasley's hand.

“They all think I did it, you know?” The man whispered to him. That voice was familiar… “Wake up soon, Percy. I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

When the mystery man leaned down to kiss Percy gently on the lips he knew exactly who it was. Dark eye’s, back hair, broad shoulders, all too familiar.

“Oh? That your boyfriend?” Not-Oliver says with a grin. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Percy says quietly. 

Haven’t since you decided to play hero.

He watches Flint talk to him a little while longer before deciding to move on. He’s careful to only touch the doorknob as he moves to shut the door again. 

It’s not like he would mind dating Flint really. He’s intense, sure, and his family would hate him. Still that wasn’t his world in the first place. The Flint from his world would never like him in general. They weren't even friends, much less lovers.  So it doesn’t even matter if his heart’s racing a little bit at the thought of it.

Shaking off the weird feeling he didn’t want to think about, he moves to the next door. The Blue Door was cold to the touch as he opened it. He was half way expecting to see this other him passed out again, but instead it seems to be some sort of restaurant? Not one he recognizes at all though.

The other Percy was seated at a table, all alone. The room looked familiar though at least. Maybe this was a good sign. Even if he can’t remember his flat’s dining room being so cluttered. Strange though, Percy had expected to see another version of him passed out in some way again. 

What would happen to this other him if he does choose this world? Does this other consciousness just vanish?

Percy glances at the closed Red Door. Is there still a consciousness there too? He hadn’t considered it but now though, he’s not so sure. By the time he glances back at the blue door someone had joined him at the table.

“How’s the new textbook going, Professor.” She said, as she leaned over the table a bit to look at something that Percy couldn’t quite see.

He could see his reaction though, watching himself move and speak felt strangely surreal.

He rolled his eyes lightheartedly as he responded,“Don’t call me that. I-”

“-Don’t even plan on taking the position, Yeah yeah i know.” The girl said before putting her arms around his shoulders, “Still think you should, though, you’d be far better than Binns.”

“Anyone would be better than Binns, Lavender.” The other him said.

(Add talking moment here about how Lavender seems nice but he's surprised to see her here.

Green Door - ???? Stan Knight bus moment???

Yellow Door - Oliver and Percy talking and walking somewhere fake out where Percy thinks this might be right but then Oliver says something sketchy or maybe there's clearly no magic or something idk

Open ended, the choice being made left ambiguous.

Looking over the doors again, Percy knows he’s made his decision. He knows none of them are actually his world. None of them match any of the things he remembered. Too many inconsistencies to match. But after the conversation with Not-Oliver he knows these are his only options. Opening his door of choice he’s stopped by Not-Oliver’s voice once more.

“Are you sure?” Not-Oliver asks, “I don’t think I’ll be able to pull you back out if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Percy says. Feeling more sure of it the closer he gets to its frame. When he sets his hand on the portal's surface all the other doors vanish, locking his choice in, and everything goes dark.

When he wakes again he’s exactly where he feels he needs to be. Or at least, as close as he can get to it. He’s still truly hoping all that had been a dream…

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hi, could you write a fic about Chubby!Harry coming home from school in a bad mood and not really eating any of his dinner (he normally wolfs it down then has seconds, so this worried James and Sirius) and then his dads ask him what’s wrong and it turns out people have been bullying him at school and the teachers have been ignoring it, and now some of them are getting involved too?

Lots of body-positive, hurt/comfort fluff, with protective Sirius and James going and giving the school a piece of their mind?

((A/N: Warning for mentions of bullying fat people and fatphobia.))

When Harry gets off the train and isn't bursting with happiness at seeing them again, Sirius tries not to take it personally. Harry is a teenager now, and it makes sense if he's more sad to leave his friends behind-- nothing compares to staying in the same dormitory as the best mates, he knows-- than happy to see his parents again.

He shares a look with James as they leave the station, and they agree that he'll shake it off soon enough.

Except he doesn't. His mood gets worse and worse. James practically drags him to the dinner table that night, and Harry only pokes at his food with a clenched jaw instead of eating it.

"Haz?" Sirius ventures.

Harry looks up from his plate, meeting his eyes dully.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?" James asks, unconvinced.

"Yes."

"It's just, you're not eating. I thought you liked Shepherd's pie," Sirius says. He would be worried that it didn't turn out except his piece is fine-- rather tasty, actually, since he has plenty of experience making it.

"I don't have an appetite is all."

"Did you eat a lot on the train?"

Harry's looks askance and gives a small shrug. He's lying, but as much as Sirius wants to get to the bottom of the matter, cornering Harry isn't going to help anything.

"It's alright. I'll set some aside so you can have it before you go to bed tonight," Sirius says, trying his best to smile like he doesn't suspect anything amiss.

"No, it's... it's fine," Harry tries. "I'll just eat a bit now."

While James and Sirius finish eating, Harry manages all of two bites.

"Alright Harry, that's enough," James says, pushing his empty plate away from himself so he can put his folded arms on the table. "What's wrong?"

Harry's expression turns pained. "Do I eat too much?"

"No, not at all," Sirius says, as James shakes his head. He isn't sure there is such a thing as eating too much, unless it makes one sick-- and Harry has never eaten so much that he puked. "Why would you think that?"

"Some people at school said..." Harry trails off, but it's not from a lack of words, it's from shame. His cheeks colour a self-conscious red.

"What did they say?" James asks sharply.

"I dunno," Harry mumbles. It's an obvious lie, and he continues on, almost as if he didn't say it at all. "That I'm... pigging out. That I'd lose weight if I ate less."

Sirius feels like his stomach drops to the floor.

"Who said that to you?" James asks.

Harry's shoulder shrink in on himself like he wants to disappear, but he answers the question without further prodding. "Everyone says it. Even the professors."

Sirius forces his voice to come out calmly. The last thing he wants is to sound angry and make Harry regret telling them. "Which professors?"

"Pa, I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

Both of his parents have to hold back the response that it is a big deal, because that's not going to help Harry feel better. A shared look between the two of them confirms that the professors will be hearing about it, but they're not sure how to handle the conversation right in front of them. Sirius tilts one corner of his mouth down-- he can't think of anything to say.

James clears his throat uncomfortably and looks back to Harry. Harry's gaze is trained on his barely touched meal, missing the quick interaction his fathers had. "You should be happy," James says, and it feels so simple and James to Sirius that he can't help but smile. "We're here to help you be happy. It's not a big deal to talk to your professors about something they shouldn't be doing or letting happen in the first place. One of the Defense professors in our day had it out for Pa, and your grandparents stepped in for him."

"I asked them not to, and I was embarrassed about it at the time, but it helped," Sirius adds softly. His heart aches looking at the warring emotions on their child's face. He recognises it from his own tumultuous teenage years; he hoped that Harry would never have to deal with anything that made him feel this way, but maybe growing up would always include something horrible.

Harry shifts uncomfortably. Then, so quietly they can barely hear, he lists the names of two professors. "Nobody says anything around the other professors, but they're..."

"We'll take care of it," James promises.

Sirius can't let his son sit there and look so sad, not when he can do something about it. He gets out of his seat and rounds the table to hug Harry from behind.

"Pa," Harry says, embarrassed, but in the usual way he is with his parents' antics, rather than personal shame.

"You're perfect, pup, you know that?"

"I'm not a pup anymore," Harry argues.

"You'll always be my pup."

"I'm glad to see you didn't deny the perfect part," James says, looking at them with a smile growing on his face.

Sirius keeps on hugging him because Harry isn't trying to get rid of him.

James's eyes flicker to Harry's plate once more. "Haz, Lily was heavy too." They don't talk about Lily much. She hadn't wanted to be involved after he was born, but then she died shortly after. It feels worse to not mention her role in Harry's existence, so they try to walk the line. Harry shares her genetics, and right now, that is worth talking about. "She was healthy, just like you are. There's nothing wrong with being fat."

Sirius loosens his arms and stands up enough to press a kiss to the top of Harry's head. He didn't want to let go, but he gets the feeling that he should anyways. He gives him a parting squeeze and rounds the table to give James a hug because his husband, at least, will always hug him back. With James's hand coming up to touch his arm, he feels grounded enough to offer, "Do you want me to find you something else to eat?"

"No, this- this is fine. Thanks." Harry takes a small bite, and they go from there.

*

In private-- and with a silencing spell to ensure Harry can't overhear-- they rage. They both need to rant and curse anyone who would treat Harry this way, and when it's just the two of them, they can do it. 

It's not only the two professors, it's the Gryffindor prefects too. Harry made a point of pretending like it wasn't that big of a deal the whole time, even though it was obvious he was hurting. He didn't tell them the names of all the students, just the ones with a bit more power. Prefects in the various Houses, a few upperclassmen. He even stressed that his friends told off anyone that said it, but they had their own studies and it's not like he needs them to look after him anyways. He tried so hard to downplay it while still answering their questions. It was understandable, but infuriating.

After they get the first wave of it out of their systems, it's time to plan. Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster so he'll have to be involved in some fashion, but he's not the one who will be dealing with the situation-- that'll be Professor McGonagall. She's the Head of House for Gryffindor, and much more hands on than Dumbledore could ever be. She should be looking after Harry now that the prefects can't be trusted to do a bloody thing except add to it.

When they manage to get McGonagall on the floo, she is gratifyingly concerned. When they mention that the Gryffindor prefects are part of the problem, she looks incensed.

"I wanted it to feel better," James says, after they're done talking to her and she's gone from their fireplace.

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to feel good after we took care of it. Maybe... I dunno, happy? Happy that Harry won't have to deal with it anymore, but I don't. I just feel angry, same as I did before."

"I know what you mean," Sirius says, taking James's hand in both of his own. "Maybe it'll feel good once he goes back to school and doesn't have to deal with it anymore. Right now, he's still with us. It's like nothing's changed yet."

"Yeah, maybe," James says noncommittally.

Sirius waits for him to finish whatever thought is in his head that's giving him so much trouble and isn't disappointed.

"I'm mad that it happened at all."

"Me too," Sirius agrees softly.

"I thought making sure it won't happen again would make that go away, but it didn't. I'm still angry."

Sirius squeezes his hand. He is too. He's not sure anything's going to make it disappear. "As long as it gets better, we'll move on."

"Right." James smiles at him. "Of course, you're right."