#it always feels good to come back to a fixation and remember how much fun you had with them

[wandaslittleweirdo]

Liar

part 1: precious || masterlist

⋆⋆౨ৎ pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚐𝚏!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: The truth always comes to light, even if the liar has done everything in their power to try and keep you from it.

warnings: dubcon, smut, mind control, top!wanda, manipulation/gaslighting, drama tehe, strap usage (R recieving), voyeurism, strap blowjob (W recieving), reader sucks wandas fingers (can you tell I have insane oral fixation?), pet names, small mix of praise kink and degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, strap referred to as dick, Stockholm syndrome, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: this is absolute filth. but fics r all about imagination and having fun, no one will ever stop me from sharing my disgusting thoughts with the internet

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this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s been two months since the night of your abduction. You’ve been staying with Wanda and have never been happier.

You remember the day you woke up in her cabin. You were frightened and confused, but she was patient and her peaceful nature soothed you. She carefully explained everything, why you were in her cabin, why you could barely walk, and why you had that cut on your cheek.

You were attacked and chased into the woods. She was your knight and shining armour who had found you laying unconscious in the crunchy autumn leaves while she was hunting. You also vividly recall saying you’d do anything to show how thankful you are, her lips pulling into a big goofy smile.

“Anything, you say?”

And it all just went up from there.

The thought of your life before Wanda never crossed your mind. She always kept you on your toes. One day you’re hiking up mountains with her and the next she’s teaching you how to shoot her shotgun.

“Bam! You got all of the targets first try! That was incredible, Y/N.”

But you didn’t need shooting a gun or slumping your way up mountains to feel like you’re on your toes. Cooking dinner together, watching new shows, going to sleep tangled in each others arms or swimming in the nearby waterfall was just as invigorating, because she made it so.

Wanda took you in and loved you. She feeds you, she shelters you, she protects you. She makes you feel safe and treats you like a princess.

Throughout your bliss, there was only one thing that constantly bothered you. A frustrated thought you kept trying to shove away, but would always float back at some point.

You weren’t allowed to leave the cabin.

Of course, the hunting and the walks were okay, but you could never see what was going on outside of the woods unless it was through the news or Wanda herself. You couldn’t step foot out of the house without Wanda following close behind. When you really acknowledge it, you describe the feeling as if you’re on display, constantly being spied on and never having the privacy every human craves.

Whenever you bring up the fact that she watches you or follows you at seemingly unnecessary times, she explains that it would be rude if you told her she’s being invasive when she’s just protecting you.

She also claims everything outside of the woods is disgusting and you aren’t missing out. She says people are cold and heartless, nothing but a bunch of soul dead blobs walking in their black and white reality everyday.

But in the most peaceful moments, like right now where your arms are wrapped around her torso and your legs tied around one of hers, imitating the position of a clingy koala, everything else doesn’t seem to matter. She gently rakes her hand through your hair and randomly pinches your cheeks, but both sets of eyes remain on the TV.

“You’re lucky, Y/N. We have so much fun together, no one ever goes out and does things anymore! Trust me. Nothing out there is as good as what’s here.”

You reminisce the conversation you had with her the other day, your heart warming as her persuasive words echo through your mind.

Wanda’s right. This is good… I don’t need anyone but her.

“Sweetheart, I have to go to the store. We don’t have any milk or bread.” She taps the top of your head gently, silently asking you to sit up but you only whine and clutch onto her harder. You rub your nose into her soft v neck sweater, feeling her stomach tense as she lets out a dry laugh. “Come on, angel. I’m just getting milk I’ll be home before you know it.”

“That’s what my dad said.” You murmur into the wool. She gasps playfully at your humour, a tiny smile on her lips as she flicked the back of your head in an act to scold you. “Don’t joke about stuff like that miss!”

“No! It’s how I cope.” You rub the back of your head and pout at her, reluctantly sitting up onto your knees while an unhappy crease sits itself between your brows. Her smile widens as she gazes at you, nothing but adoration swimming in those viridescent irises.

She pushes your dishevelled hair out of your face and leans in slowly, eyes fixated on your lips. Her kiss is as gentle as ever, her fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer. Every complaint you were ready to throw at her suddenly slips your mind, and all you can think about is how soft her lips feel moving against yours. The hair framing her face smells of her green apple shampoo, a specific something you grew to obsess over.

“Oookay, have to go now.” She pulls back and swiftly puts herself on her feet. She happily escorts herself over to the door to grab her coat and slip her shoes on, the cocky smile never leaving her face.

You fall face forward into the couch while making various irritated and disapproving grumbles. She slides her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, her smile distorting into a sort of impish grin when she specifically hears the words,

“You’re evil, Wanda.”

“Maybe, but you love it.” She laughs softly before slinging her purse over her shoulder and opening the door.

“See you soon, princezná!” You huff at the sound of the door shutting followed by the click of the lock. You could continue to watch a movie… or you could go into your girlfriends closet and steal her clothes.

Excitement starts brewing inside of you as you spring up from the couch and run into your shared bedroom. You yank the closet door open, taking the sleeve of one of her hoodies and rubbing your face into it. The faint smell of sandalwood and a sweet-spicy cinnamon still lingers on it, and now all you can think of is drowning yourself in the mouth watering autumn scent.

You pluck out a red flannel shirt and a dark blue pair of jeans. But as you flip through her many pieces of clothing, a cardboard box in the corner of her top shelf catches your eye. You frown and push yourself onto your tippy toes, groaning and stretching your limbs until you could finally grasp the package.

The box is covered in a thin layer of dust indicating it hasn’t been touched in a while. You giggle excitedly, box in hand as you run over to your shared bed and make yourself comfortable.

We tell each other everything, she must have some dirty secrets in here..

You place your hand on the lid of the laptop, prepared to open it until a sting of guilt stops you. Your excitement fades into adrenaline as you nervously tap your foot against the carpeted floor.

She’ll tell me about this eventually, right?

But she’s had so many opportunities to say something…

Fuck it.

A puzzled expression takes over your features seeing the computer had only nine screens open. They’re all at least 360p, tv static glitching out a video every five or so seconds. Then you notice where the cameras were pointing too. One in Wanda’s room, one covering the area of her living room, one facing towards the kitchen and the others scattered around outside.

Security cameras?

Your eyes flicker to the red circle flashing in the top left corner of the screen, the capital letters “LIVE” typed in next to it. Then, just below that, an even smaller text with todays date. You click it and a list of options pop up, scrolling down and seeing she installed them in 2015.

You excitedly flip back to two months ago, the day you and Wanda met. You can watch your love unfold all over again but now from a different perspective.

You giddily scrub through the timeline and watch yourself wander around outside, then fast forwarding again until Wanda walks to the door and opens it to you. Your brows pinch together; you don’t seem hurt at all and you’re clearly not unconscious. In fact, you seem wary of her.

Your curiosity heightens as you quietly observe yourself take a seat on her couch and sit there, tapping your lap awkwardly. You skip further ahead and stop when you see Wanda jump onto you. Your hand flies over your mouth, the sickening realisation starting to dawn on you.

She lied to me…

How did I forget everything?

You drag the little dot further through the video, your heart thudding in your ears. A red glow in the darkness of her room causes the frown on your face to deepen and you to scroll back.

You almost forget how to breathe when you see red wisps escape the fingertips of your beloved girlfriend, the red seeping it’s way through the side of your forehead and infecting your unconscious mind.

She does this continuously for minutes, destroying every thought in your head. Your opinions, beliefs and judgments so she can start off with a clean canvas. Everything from your old life comes rushing back, your memories flashing at you like big bright billboards on 2x speed.

Your childhood, your parents divorcing, your bullies in high school and more specifically— the night you met Wanda. Surrounded by tall, thin, white bark trees as the echo of your own voice called after something or someone named Daisy. The disorientation and utter sadness you felt wandering aimlessly. The anxiety you felt in the pit of your stomach while walking up to Wanda’s cabin. Everything that happened that night, including her handing you the drink to then ordering you to put it down.

Clover-

Frankie?

Daisy…

Wanda.

“Y/N! I’m back!” You gasp, quickly blinking away the tears that rimmed your eyes. You slam the computer shut and shove it in its box, clumsily dropping the lid back on and running to put it back into her closet.

You just shut the door when Wanda’s voice startles you from the doorway.

“You okay honey? You look shaken.” You take a step back when she advances, almost like a reflex or a flinch, and it does not go unnoticed by her. She squints ever so slightly, her head tipping to the side.

I don’t know this woman. I need to leave. Now.

“Yeah I’m okay I just.. stubbed my toe.” She tuts, walking over to you and snakes her arms around your waist. “Aww, my poor baby. I bought strawberries though, will that cheer you up?” She whispers into your head and you melt, fingers twitching against the material of her soft coat.

My Wanda..

“T-Thank you, Wands.” This is Wanda. The loving, beautiful and generous Wanda you fell for. But she erased your whole life so she could cage you and keep you for herself.

Don’t get swayed by strawberries! Focus!

She whispers a sweet I love you before kissing your head and turning around. She picks up a thick knitted cardigan laying on the bed and throws it to you. “It’s cold, put this on and I’ll go light a fire.”

She waltzes out of the door and down the short hallway, leaving you a big, confused ball of nerves.

~

Wanda switches on the TV and invites you to sit next to her. You don’t say anything and accept, seating yourself by her no matter how on edge you feel because Wanda knows you. She can tell when you’re hiding something, and if you don’t want to sit next to her after begging her to stay home, something is obviously wrong.

Wanda watches the movie like she normally would. Laughing here and there, playing with your hair or placing a friendly hand on your thigh. You on the other hand have no idea what’s happening in the movie because your mind is racing with thoughts on what you should be doing.

Do I confront her? Do I run away? Do I stay and act like I don’t know anything?

“Hey Wands?” You say without thinking, immediately regretting your words and curse at yourself for acting so impulsively. She hums, eyes still focused on the tv.

“If I asked you a question… would you answer truthfully?”

“Of course, I always do.” She answers, her voice soft with a hint of worry as she pointed the remote at the television to shut it off. You want to believe her over what your own eyes saw, you wish you had never touched or opened that box. Everything would’ve stayed perfect. But sadly, you have to accept the fact that it was never perfect. You were played and life isn’t the paradise she pretended it was.

“I… I found the laptop.” You unwravel yourself from her hold so you can sit up and face her. Your mind so caught up on the anxiety rumbling around in your stomach, you miss the faint crimson flash behind her irises and the tiny tense of her shoulders.

“What laptop?”

“The one hooked up to the security cameras.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” She chuckled, shifting uncomfortably as she shook her head and avoided your frantic stare. You bite the inside of your cheek, gently taking her hand between yours and softening your tone of voice. The last thing you want to do is make her upset or start an argument.

“Okay, then just answer this… What happened the night we met?”

“I told you, I saved you-“

“No Wanda. What. happened?” You enunciate your last words, voice trembling as you desperately cling onto the hope that she’ll tell you what happened and explain why she lied. This is her chance to admit to everything, but she doesn’t take it.

“I’m telling you the truth, Y/N. Why are you questioning me?” You feel burning tears sit behind your eyes and your lips quivers, your patience worn into a thread as you pinch your temple.

This is the woman you love and trust most in the world, it breaks your heart that the foundation of your relationship was built on lies and manipulation. It breaks your heart even more so knowing that the Wanda you thought you knew could just be a fake persona, anything feels possible right now.

“I told you, I found the laptop and saw the security cameras. I know what actually happened.” She lets out a small laugh, your expression changing to one of disbelief watching her shrug as if what she did isn’t that bad.

“Okay… well it’s not a big deal-“

“You made me forget my entire life! I’m scared, Wanda. You lied to me. I want to know who I am, not who you want me to be!” You lose the composure you were holding on to, standing up and throwing your hands around.

She clenches her jaw when you yell these words at her, her nostrils flaring and her eyes poisoned with an ironclad rage. She slowly stands to her feet and you internally kick yourself—regretting how you spoke to her as she looms over you. Her tightened jaw and her slit pupils reminded you of a snake ready to attack, pointing a finger in your face before she speaks her next words.

“You came to me for help. And I helped you. I treat you like a fucking queen and that’s how you speak to me?” Shes not yelling, her voice is quiet but created purely of anger and disappointment. Honestly, you’d prefer yelling.

“But Wanda.. that’s not fair-“

“Don’t you talk to me about what’s fair. I’ve done everything possible to make sure you’re happy and now you’re scared of me?” Tears well your eyes as you stare at her, the salty drops blurring your vision and rolling down your face every time you blink. That familiar lump gets caught in your throat, forcing whatever you wanted to say right back down. You’ve never seen her so furious, and you never expected to be the reason for her to be.

“I know the life you lived before me. You lived alone with two bunnies, you hate your family, worked as a waitress and had one friend. You know I treat you better than anyone else ever has.” Your eyes dart to the floor, shame swelling inside of you.

Wanda makes me happy, why did I ruin it all?

“But if you’re going to talk to me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you, I guess there’s no point in being nice.” Your eyes fly up at her again, hoping to see some sort of playfulness in her expression. No matter how hard you searched there wasn’t a hint of that gentle gaze she always had for you.

“Get on your knees, Y/N.”

“What-“

“On your fucking. Knees.”

You let out a shaky breath before slowly sinking down to your knees. Your eyes stay stuck to your fidgeting fingers, anxiously waiting for her next orders. “You’re so pretty, it’s a shame you act like such a spoiled little brat.” She unbuttons her jeans and tugs down at the zip, pulling out a large red strap she hid inside of the denim.

“Open.” You hesitate before taking it into your hand, eyes looking up at her nervously before sticking your tongue out and teasing it. You take the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks around it, eyes begging for some type of approval. Her mouth opens slightly, quiet pants escaping her as she watches the end of the strap disappear into your mouth repeatedly.

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, impatiently pushing her hips forward and forcing the rest of the length into your mouth. “You can’t act all tough with a dick in your mouth, can you?” She sneers. You feel her touch the back of your throat, the faux cock weighing heavy on your tongue as you gagged around it. You claw at her hips and pull at her sweater, but she doesn’t budge.

“Breathe out of your nose, baby.” You do as you’re told, breathing in through your nose while drool dripped down your chin. She picks up your loose hair with her hand and gathers it behind your head, using it as leverage to move your head however she pleases.

“I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself for me please…” She whimpered. Her hips start to move, pumping the toy into your mouth at a merciful pace. Your spit falls from your lips to the carpet underneath you as you slowly remove one of your hands from her to push into your shorts, not wasting a second before thrusting two fingers into yourself.

You moan around the strap while she forces your head back and forth by your hair and snaps her hips harder, breath hitching at the sight of you grinding your hips against your own hand.

She rams into your mouth, hot, breathless praises falling from her lips and raining down onto you. The material of the toy rubs perfectly against her clit, both of you impatiently chasing your highs with increasingly fast and sloppy movements. You feel your walls clench and as you curl your fingers, you notice her thighs start to shake.

“Fuck! Cum with me… let go, sweet girl.”

Her string of moans flow smoothly throughout her silent cabin as she bucked her hips up and further into your mouth. Your juices spill into your hand, your bodies pulsing and sweaty. She squeezes her eyes shut as hot-white pleasure surges through her, and you do the exact same, clenching your thighs together as your eyelids flutter.

She pulls out and you take a deep breath in, your chest heaving and head spinning because of the lack of oxygen. She watches you withdraw your hand from your shorts and your cheeks fade to a hot pink seeing your fingers coated in the sticky cum.

She takes your clean hand and guides you to lay on the couch. You melt into the soft sofa, legs twitching and your eyes shut. You weakly mumble protests when you feel her climb on top of you and immediately starts tugging at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to the side. She moves her hand and massages your pussy, eagerly listening to all of your icky sounds. You squirm and try jerking away from her, but her hand pins your hips back down to the couch, forcing you to endure the intensity of her touch.

“Wands, I’m tired..” She smiles, your voice low and husked from your sore throat.

“Don’t you hear that, baby? You’re so wet for me, even when I’m mean to you.” She shushes your begging while using her hand to move your sticky panties out of the way. She lines herself up to your hole, slowly pushing inside and doesn’t wait before picking up her speed.

“You’re so tight..” You sob, feeling smothered and hot from her hands groping at you, her body like a chunk of burning coal hovering above you. She wipes some of your cum from your fingers with her own, then moving them towards your mouth and sliding them in. She exhales shakily and her hips stutter when you swirl your tongue around her fingertips, opening your eyes the slightest bit so you can catch her reaction.

“God, you’re so good like that…” She slams into you harder, adoring the whines that would muffle because of your stuffed mouth. She feels your walls clench around the strap again and her lips stretch into a smug smirk.

“Aww gotta cum already? You wanna make a mess all over my strap, baby? Yeah?” Her voice hitches higher, patronising you in a way she knew you loved.

She takes it all in. Your tits bouncing underneath your shirt from her thrusts and your hardened nipples peeking through. Your flushed cheeks. The sweat glistening off of your forehead and your inner brows perked upwards. You could only moan an answer to her question, legs writhing and eyes glazed over as you stare at her in your euphoric haze.

Then it hits you, the feeling that you’d describe as tasting a slice of heaven and hell at the same time. Your back arches and your muscles tighten. You gasp and pathetically attempt to kick at her when she starts to toy with your sensitive clit, but cease your actions when she shoves her fingers further into your throat as a silent warning.

The last thing you remember before slowly drifting off into your long awaited slumber, is Wanda’s hands running down your sides, the top of her head and your stomach flexing as she kissed her way down your stomach.

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taglist: @wandasfavv @sokovianbaby @hopelesslygaysstuff @ghxst-guts @maximoffsgirl @mrsmothermaximoff @themilfsland @slutm3out @immclovinmilfs @kimiisims-blog @halsnaksns

[heliads]

I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose. 

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates. 

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but– 

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming. 

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run. 

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello. 

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you. 

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

[tragedy-of-commons]

"Do you ever think about that drunken kiss we shared?" + Dan Heng

"Do you ever think about that drunken kiss we shared?"

Dan Heng thinks you're trying to kill him.

Yes, that must be it, he lets the swarm of butterflies flapping around in his gut reason for a little too long. Surely, you're an assassin sent to kill him, cunningly playing the long game - only to one day give him a heart attack so he'll croak and you can collect your money.

(Honestly, he'd rather you don't drag the process out. But Dan Heng has never taken you for merciful, and your entirely evil expression only serves to confirm that hunch.)

The tips of his ears burn red. "Why do you insist on bringing that up?"

"Come on," you huff, elbowing him in the side with no real force, "you gotta answer the question, love. And keeping record of the past is always a good thing, right? You're always wading knee-deep in the archives, so I'm sure you'd understand."

There you are with your strange comparisons and too-close-but-not-too-close-since-you're-dating pet names. Even so, how in the world is he supposed to respond? Honesty cannot be the best policy, not when his answer will be something along the lines of 'Yes, I do think about that kiss often. Almost everyday, in fact, considering it's the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

But Dan Heng doesn't say any of that (of course he doesn't). Instead, his gaze drops back down to the table where you're both currently sitting - where he'd been mindlessly scrolling through his messages moments before you decided to throw him off kilter. It's way too early for this.

You continue to babble on, taking his silence as the admission of guilt that it is. "We were running around the Luofu, those Knight people hot on our tails, but after my work on your genius disguise, I finally convinced you to lighten up and have some fun. I dragged you to that stall, remember?"

How could he forget? Even when his past was nipping at his heels and ready to take a wolfish bite out of him, you'd found a way to insist on all play and no work. Even more debasing, he went along with it.

"I remember. You... the shopkeeper sold us that bottle, and since it was broad daylight in a nice area, we assumed it was nonalcoholic and just... drank it, right there in the central square," Dan Heng recalls.

You laugh, loud and bright. He feels like vomiting from the mortification he's constantly subjected to in your presence.

"Yeah! It didn't even taste alcoholic. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice anything sooner - you're normally pretty sharp. We started getting suspicious after all those nasty looks, though..."

He remembers that too, but what you neglect to mention, thank the stars and everything that hasn't screwed him over, is that he was completely and utterly distracted. Dan Heng isn't one for such flowery language, but from his only somewhat muddled recollection, he was totally entranced.

It was probably his overlooked inebriation, but he found himself fixated on the plush of your lips. As you rambled on about how pretty the scenery was, he could only think about how pretty you were. As much as you'd disagree with him, he isn't as oblivious as to have ignored all the signs of his growing fondness for you.

The mystery alcohol gave him the push he needed then. For just a moment, Dan Heng wishes he had some liquid courage right now to get through this hellish conversation. "Yes. Everything was warm, and I kissed you."

You gasp, scandalized. The table wobbles as you kick your feet up to rest on the polished wood, somehow lax. "Hey, give yourself some credit! Even when you were practically wasted, you still did that cheesy romance movie thing and asked for permission."

His eye jumps. Aeons above. "I wasn't aware asking for consent was a 'cheesy romance movie thing'."

"I'm not talking about that," you snort, getting that look on your face when you're about to lay down a trump card of some kind, destroying the many layers of defenses he's spent the entirety of this life painstakingly building up. "I'm talking about when you tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes! You've never been that romantic since! Oh, Dan Heng, what a heartthrob you were, a real dreamboat--"

He whispers your name, voice brittle like glass.

"Sorry," you say, the apology quite genuine by your standards. The teasing grin you sported moments earlier has all but disappeared, replaced by a soft smile that makes all of the theatrics worth it. "But I can't help but reminisce. I cherish the memory dearly, you know."

Dan Heng swallows. "I know. I do too."

He does. Hopefully, one day, he'll be able to surprise you like that again. As you take his hand in yours, both of you falling back into comfortable silence, electricity crackles inside the confines of his chest.

Yes, you're surely going to be the death of him.

(Like he'd have it any other way.)

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @https-sourlimes

a/n: anon, i fear you've killed everything i know and love... i adored this prompt and writing it! dan heng is a special kind of soggy and i hope i did him justice.

event post here

[balkanradfem]

So, in the light of sharing lesbian experiences, I thought I'd try sharing a story that makes me wary of dating; it ends in hubris, so be warned. It might make it more clear why I'm not trying to date the hot woman in my building! Click read more for a long sad lesbian story.

Years ago, I had a crush on a woman I met on tumblr. I started talking to her, and I told her honestly that I like her, and asked her if she was into women. She said yes! We started chatting and communicating daily, and after a bit we switched over to sending emails, so we could write long stories to each other. She was incredibly smart, talented, creative, she was a good storyteller, she knew so much about plants and animals, she had a garden, a dog, she lived in a country close to mine, so I could logically, at one point, sit on a train and meet her.

After we talked excitedly for a while, she told me she has a crush on me too. I was so happy. The unreachable scenario, your crush likes you back. I was living it, I was beside myself. I was dreaming of being in a relationship with her and how that would look like, and she was sending me flirty little messages in the emails. We kept talking, and slightly flirting with each other in our emails, and this went on for months. She would tell me about her life, experiences, past relationships, her art and books she wrote. I was into it all, I read anything she wrote or drew, I offered support whenever she was having a rough time or was bothered by something. I noticed at this point that if I send her my stuff, she doesn't really comment on it, but I felt okay about it, since I already had enough confidence, and wasn't looking to get praise.

During this time, I grew attached to her, I started to really love her. She was sweet and warm and so interesting to me. She knew a lot about stuff I didn't! Her stories and art were admirable and I remember fondly going trough it over and over. I felt a little bit like a child next to her, since she was 10 years older, and smarter, and I kept trying to prove that I too, am an adult, who knows stuff, and is smart. At one point we decided to have a video call, and I was so nervous, I had to go be outside to connect to a wifi, and I kept thinking what if it's awkward, what if we don't know what to say? I decided to tackle that issue by going trough a comic she drew and then using the call to give her tons of feedback, praise and opinions on it, it was a long comic so I was able to talk about it for an hour! She was happy to discuss it and our conversation went lightly and we had fun. I asked her at the end if she had a good time, and she said – yes, we talked about me the entire time! And I hadn't even realized that, until she said it. I think I felt a bit weird about it afterwards, because I do tend to fixate on people I like a lot, but ultimately, you know, we could talk about other things next time.

This is where things started feeling weird. We were talking for about 6 months then, and she was starting to disappear without notice. I wouldn't get my emails answered in a while, and every time I grew anxious and upset, wondering if I did something wrong, or she just got busy. At first I just blamed myself for, you know, being mentally ill, having abandonment issues, worrying too much. But I felt more anxious every time she'd disappear. I would sometimes have to go away too, for a few days, but I would always warn her, and let her know when I'd be away, and when I'd come back. She'd never say anything. So next time she disappeared on me, I asked her to please just let me know when she's leaving, because I easily get worried and miss her, and I do have some issues that make me feel abandoned. She said it was difficult for her to read this, because it makes her look inconsiderate in comparison to me, but she'll of course, say something next time.

She didn't. She kept both disappearing, and being too busy to respond to me. And even though we started talking with the idea of being in a relationship, it was never later discussed or prompted again, she only would add one flirty sentence to each email, so I'd know she's still interested. But now she was disappearing, or ignoring me, or  - just lost interest. I had to slowly realize that we were not, in fact, going to date. Because if she wanted to be in a relationship, surely by now it would be at least discussed or mentioned, and we would want to spend more time together, find out more about each other. And instead she was responding to me less, growing away from me, but still wrote in flirty lines. I was heartbroken, but also found it too difficult to keep pretending that it's going to happen, when it clearly was not, the contrast of what she was saying, and what was happening, was too much for me.

It took me a hot minute to gather my courage, and then I wrote to her that her disappearances are heavy on my mental health, and in order for me to feel normal about it, it's best if we continue as just good friends, and then I won't have to be stressed about why she's not responding to me. And she responded to that one instantly, saying no, we're going to date, in fact we can be dating now, she wants to. But this was instead, even more confusing to me, because why now? We didn't mention it for months, there was no progression towards it, she's organically responding to me less and less, obviously losing interest in talking regularly, she didn't care to warn me of her disappearances to ease my worry and anxiety over losing her, so how could she actually want to date? I sent her an email apologizing, calling myself an idiot, offering to talk her trough my mental process of making this decision, blamed it all on myself and my mental illness, but I couldn't bring myself back in the mindset of just, waiting for her messages, worrying if she was losing interest in me, worrying if I did something wrong and she didn't want to be with me anymore. It was mortifying to me.

I sent her further two emails apologizing and asking if she was okay, now worried if I hurt her with my giving up on romance, if she's maybe upset with me. I said sorry so many times and asked her to please share with me how this has affected her.

She never replied to any. She never talked to me again.

And I didn't understand, for a long time, what had happened there. Nothing made sense to me, in one second she was asking for a relationship, and then in the next moment she was done with me forever. I waited for a reply for such a long time, before I finally accepted that it's not coming, she wasn't... she wasn't interested in even being friends with me.

This was baffling, because I believed we had, in fact, created a good friendship over those 6 months! We learned about each other's lives, interests, pasts, we discussed ideas and art and feminism and capitalism, we told each other stories, we shared our struggles and days, we had our jokes and references, I had an entire library of her works and art in my head at this point and cared for her deeply. I thought we had a bond, and regardless of it being a friendship or a romance, we cared for each other. And I could see we weren't going to progress to a relationship, because she lost interest, or at least the desire to talk to me regularly, and I accepted it, so what was wrong?

Well, it would take me months more of thinking it trough and catching little hints and signs of things that were wrong. During our conversation, since I hoped that we would date, I would regularly try to prop her up and make her feel good about herself; I always wanted her to feel special and amazing, and would often shower her in praise and admiration. I wanted her to know that being with me would mean constant support and appreciation of everything good about her, and she'd get endless warmth and adoration, because this is what I thought relationships should be like, right, and I wanted her to know that's what I wanted for us. This sentiment was not returned to me in kind, but I didn't mind since I could already feel good about myself. She also didn't react if I sent her some of my work, but I would react to her stuff for ages, because I knew how good it is to get feedback on your own creation, anyone would enjoy that. I realized belatedly, that when she'd ask for support, I'd drop everything to reassure her and comfort her, and be mad at her behalf, while when I asked for support, she'd kinda side with me but still talk about herself. But all of these things were so subtle and tiny to me, I couldn't even see them over the excitement of 'my crush likes me back'.

I wondered, if she wasn't into me at all, then why didn't she just turn me down at the start, or somewhere down the line, she could tell me if she wasn't actually interested in dating me. Because if she seriously did want to date me, then she could have tried being friends with me, speak with me more consistently, show me that she was serious and that she does want to talk to me, and then try for a relationship later; it was unlikely that I would say no, I was filled with adoration for her. So she didn't want a relationship, and she didn't want a friendship, so why didn't she just say no to me?

Because she wanted the attention. She liked being adored and having someone pursue her so passionately. And the rest... didn't really matter to her. She would have only talked to me, and flirted with me, to have me believe we were going to date, and the second I didn't believe it, and I wouldn't pursue her in that way.. I was as good as dead to her. I was just a resource in there. She didn't care when I was starting to get hurt by being ignored by her, and she didn't care when I specifically said to her that I was struggling with mental health because she was trying to have me believe in something I saw wasn't true. She still tried to push me back into pursuing her after I gave up because of pain. She wanted the attention even when it was hurting me to give it.

I also tried to put myself in her shoes, and see how I would react in her place. I imagined if I had flirted with someone, and then ignored them for a while, and they then asked to be just friends. I don't think I would have even attempted to persuade them to go back to how they were before, because I would be horrified that I set this person up with false expectations, and then caused them pain by failing them. I would be relieved that they weren't mad at me for leading them on, and would feel awful for leading them on at all. But I also wouldn't even bring myself into this situation; if I had feelings for someone, and then realized they're fading away, but this person was still hopeful, or anxious, I'd have to set them straight and tell them what's up, so they could get a chance to move on. Saying 'no I actually want to date, lets go back to that' when I'm ready to drop them in an instant would be unthinkable to me.

What happened was so much worse than being rejected, or turned down. I was at this point wishing so badly that I had just been rejected. I would have moved on from that in a day or two. I had created a whole bond with a person who could not have cared less, and who dropped me the second I did something they didn't like. If I had known that's the reality of it, I would have never wanted to be friends, or anything else. And I also had no way of knowing, it was a shock when things turned out this badly.

I left that experience with some new conclusions. One was that I'll never try to date someone who makes me feel like a child. When I would feel dumb or childish next to her, she would poke fun at it and tease me about it, when I would genuinely feel not taken seriously, and I hated every minute of it, I hated having to prove that I'm an equal to someone. I also would no longer try to pursue anyone with so much love and attention. I might have been wrong to be so honest and direct with my intentions and my feelings. I set myself up for exploitation. It wasn't the first time I was exploited in that way either, this was just one of the worst ones.

After this experience, for a while I stopped liking people in general. Considering even being friends with someone, filled me with anxiety and exhaustion. I fell depressed and had thoughts about never talking to anyone again. I just didn't want to be put trough this again, and it took time for me to believe that a person can be that selfish and cruel, and hide it for so long, I didn't believe this could happen. I guess it hit me worse than it would have because I have abandonment issues, and this falls heavy on a heart of a person who's been abandoned before.

But anyway, I am feeling better now, and I'm very careful about having any kind of ideas about dating! I'm not interested in anyone who gives even the tiniest hint of mixed signals, or wanting to play with my heart, or promise anything unlikely or far down the line. If someone says they like me I won't even believe them! But, I'm keeping my honesty, and I won't set anyone up for this kind of pain. If I don't intend to be with someone, they'll know right away :).

[jupiter-letters]

Klaus Hargreeves NSFT Headcanons💓

Anon Requested: Clawing at the walls rn. Can you write nsfw Klaus hcs?

A/N: Need to get back into writing again to start the healing process after season 4. I'm seeing some other writers do that now which is really funny and comforting. I've been wanting to do this but I didn't have that drive to do so thanks for the push anon! I'm aware of Klaus' identity as a Genderfluid person, I will be using He/They pronouns for this set of headcanons. Fem! or GN! Reader as always

word count: 634

divider cred || palestine links

now playing: I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

Klaus is very open to most things when it comes to sex, very few things are off the table for him. Having the opportunity to experiment with a partner is a fun experience for the both of you. He teaches you some things and he does the same for you, kinks you never knew you had kind of bubble to the surface.

Wax Play! Klaus introduced you to it in the middle stages of your relationship, he made it known he wasn’t afraid to experiment with a little pain. As long as you weren’t sawing his limbs off to get your rocks off he was fine.The sensation of hot wax on his skin and the soft caress of your fingers brings Klaus such euphoria. He likes to have it dripped on his thighs and his chest. Not so much on his face, anything that involves a little pain he doesn’t want done to his face. 

Being bound in any way is very very hot for them as well. Handcuffs, ropes or clamps, whether it be you or them. He mostly has a preference for being the one tied up, if you’re riding him and his hands are tied to the bedpost, he’ll go crazy. When he's bottoming he'll love it if you tie his hands behind his back. If you use that to grip onto while you fuck him from behind, face pressed in the pillow, he’ll get really loud. 

He lovesss to get pegged, Klaus will alternate between being the biggest brat and being the softest big wet eyed baby in the world. It really depends on how he’s feeling that day whether he’s gonna mouth off to you or not. He just gets sassy to get a reaction out of you but a good way to eradicate that cocky attitude to edge him, Klaus hates when you make him wait to cum. He has such a love-hate relationship with it, it does make anticipation of cumming more exciting. If you do it to him, sometimes he will get revenge later on. He would rather not do it to you cause he loves to give you whatever you want but he is a tease above all. 

He’ll even bring it up while you’re having sex, “Remember that time I backtalked you a tiny bit and you didn’t let me cum for 5 whole minutes babe? Well guess what?” and then he just stops thrusting into you, Klaus will even keep you on the edge of an orgasm for 5 minutes and let you cum after time’s up. “That was torture wasn’t it? I guess it doesn’t feel as good when the shoe’s on the other foot.” 

They have an oral fixation like you wouldn't believe, certified throat goat/munch. Stick your fingers in their mouth and they'll look at you with the nastiest whorish eyes. Anything you wanna put in Klaus' mouth they'll accept it happily, except maybe a gun that might be too much. If you're the one recieving Klaus will have some part of you in their mouth, an earlobe, a nipple or your cheek. It doesn't matter, they want to get as close as possible.

When Klaus goes down on you he's literally kicking his feet while he does it, no joke. He's so excited to be the one that makes you feel good, sex is always filled with giggles and smiles.

Aftercare is usually very quiet and intimate after a night of fun, you just sit in silence in each other's arms. You're both wound up tight in each other's arms, skin still covered in sweat. Klaus will pull you with him into the bathroom eventually so you both can get clean. After a nice shower you both end up playing monopoly or cooking something in your kitchen.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[burnin0akleaves]

This has been on the horizon for a while, but I think a part of me just didn't want to admit it until recently. I'll cut straight to the chase, you probably won't see much RA content from me anymore.

The topic of the fandom, the tags or quality of the posts have been discussed a few times already -mostly by me I think which should have been a warning sign haha- so I'm not going to go into too much detail. I'll just share my perspective.

The fandom simply just doesn't have much to offer me at the moment.

Everyone knows that a huge part of my interest in RA was and always has been TRR Will. If he didn't exist, I would have lost interest in the series a LONG time ago. But I can cook my own meals for only so long before I get tired and want to eat out for a change, and unfortunately for me no one is serving the food I want at the moment. I still love love love this man, but there just isn't enough content for him in the fandom (except the ones made by me) for me to want to actively keep engaging with it.

Not only that, art just doesn't get the same reception as it used to here. If I can draw another interest of mine and get triple the engagement, then it's just easier for me to be motivated to share my art of that other thing. Sure I draw because I want to first, but suprisingly for everyone I do want to draw things other than RA. And if those other things are more appreciated, then it just means I'm more motivated to keep posting them for everyone else to see. Most people probably remember I used to be very active in discussions and character analyses on here as well, but I just don't see the space for that sort of content here anymore. (Sorry to that one anon who said they liked my writing, you know who you are)

I still love RA and TRR Will, but I'll probably keep my thoughts or the occasional sketch I draw for myself from now on. I just don't feel motivated to share it.

Also just in case anyone asks my opinion after the recent discussion at the ask blog; yes, I don't like the current state of most of the posts here either. I don't want to go out bad-mouthing others though, the current style of content in the fandom just isn't my taste. Which is alright, maybe I've simply grown out of the series! The book getting newer fans is a good thing and I hope they have as much fun as I did when I first joined. This fandom has been my home for years now but I think it's around time I go out and explore more.

I'll still keep up with the series. Again, my fixation on Will is very much alive and well. It sucks that I don't have the energy to share my passion with others anymore, but I'm sure people will do just fine without me mauling every other guy that completely misunderstands his character to death. Don't get me started on the beard shit, genuinely frustrating how a fandom revolving around a book series has 0 literacy at times.

TLDR: I'm not going to be active in the RA fandom anymore because of multiple reasons. I still love TRR Will but I'm not motivated to share my work here in the current state of things. I loved my time here and I hope everyone else does too.

-

Also if my feelings change in the future, then that will be that and I might come back. I'm not sending myself off to exile here. I'm not writing any of this because I believe I have to explain myself either, I'm doing it because I simply want to avoid causing people confusion. Feel free to send me RA related asks still, just don't expect to see me around the RA spaces as much. I'll stay in all the servers obviously, and my presence will be around indirectly since most of my friends are still here. Also, if you draw TRR Will do feel free to send him to me in the dms. Love that guy and his apprentice so much, wish more people did.

[heartfullofleeches]

I'm fixating over a character I haven't properly introduced so - Marshmallow Milk Hcs

🌌 The youngest of the hybrids and the owner of the only candy store in town, Marlow is a gentle cow with their head in the clouds and sight set on the stars, speaking of dreams of course. Marlow sleeps the day and night away, relying on the trust of strangers to run their shop. They'll come back every now and to check up on friends and spend time with their dear Coco. While they do love the drink, you're what completes them. They wouldn't give up a moment with you for anything in the world. Not even the perfect dream where the two of you are happily married and ruining the shop together. They hope one day that dream can become a reality.

🌌 Marlow is a different breed to their fellow hybrids. Rather than being made of flesh and blood, their body is almost entirely made of marshmallow fluff. It's the perfect topping for a nice cup of hot chocolate or a fresh cake. There was a slight mix up in production as they're missing their right leg, but they had a prosthetic made for them by that nice cow who runs the junk yard. Marshmallow tends to misplace it as odd as that may seem. They get so absent-minded they'd have trouble keeping track of their things even if they were glued to their own two hands. Once, their leg ended up on at your front door without them. How strange is that? Oh wait - they fell asleep in the brush. Since you're waking them, maybe you can help them find other things they lost. They'd ask you to find their heart but that's already in your hands.

🌌 Coco is their go to nickname, but they also call you squish/squishy. It's fun to poke your cheeks and sizes. So soft and squishy just like a marshmallow

🌌 Marlow has a vocal habit of drawing out their words and has a lisps after drinking warm beverages due to the state of their body. "Gooood Morning, Coco~" "Did you have a good night's sweep?" "I wuuuuv you." "Don't go."

🌌They have difficulty telling dreams from reality. It's hard not to with how often they doze off and how vivid their dreams feel. Just like week they had a dream about that tourist visiting town asking you out on a date. The knife in their heart when you said yes felt so real they woke right up and ran over to your house. You informed them that tourist apparently left that afternoon and had done no such thing. Silly Marlow. They wished you a good night and went back home to fall asleep after a nice bath. Their hands were so sticky for some reason

🌌To call Marlow a sleepwalker is an understatement. They can whip up an entire bath or fudge squares and hold an hour long conversation before anyone realizes they're snoring between each word. It's even harder to tell when they're awake or not as they never open their eyes. Their sleep walking has resulted in some odd behaviors such as breaking into your home to leave the treats they sleep bake for on your pillows, following you around stopping only once they're in your bed, and accident confessions. Good thing they're just sleeping though. Marlow doesn't remember a single thing they've done while sleep walking, but sometimes they'll mention still being tired afterwards.

🌌Overall, if you're looking for a low maintenance partner who loves naps and baking Marlow is your best choice. Take a break from the troubles of life and lay on the floor with them, watching the ceiling of glow in the dark stares at you waste the day away in each other's arms. If you have trouble sleeping just take a bite of the sweets they make for that very reason. Marlow's dream pops sell out quick, but they keep one in their pocket for you whenever you're feeling down or have too much energy for your own good. This way, you might even see each other while you're sleeping. They're always watching - one way or another.

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Hello! Firstly I wanted to say that I'm an old fan since your overwatch days and I've always admired how much depth you're giving all the characters and relationships you touch! I'm talking like, mariana trench DEPTHS. And how confident you seem about just doing the things you enjoy and exploring the themes you want? I really respect that.

I'm having a bit of an art crisis recently and I was wondering If you could offer some advice?

I'm thinking about self-indulgence in art, particularly fanart. I like to dive in deep to expand on characters, I find it as enjoyable as creating my own work. But I fear of people getting angry at me for latching onto these characters, thay they'll say the original work wasn't THAT deep, or that I'm completely wrong or cringe or whatever. And I don't care about being right or anything, I just want to have fun here and tell my little stories? :( The fear is making me keep the work to myself and I don't know what to do. Would it be better to just enjoy it on my own?

Your blog really is goals when it comes to that, so I'll respect your opinion a lot. Thank you for your time!

holy moly thank you so much for your sincerity first of all!! Second, this is making me misty eyed ngl!! I have alot to say about this so i shall put it under a read more bc im gonna ramble

If someone cares about you fixating on your fave characters, then they're usually the fucking weirdos in this situation if they dont just block you and move on. I LOVE making shit up about my faves like i have a modern au hc that kakashi and gai are ddr competition rivals and i gave yeehan 7 dogs just for funsies!! we were in the trenches in early overwatch making up our own lore bc there was none and it was so fun

I've always been like that now that i look back bc when i first started uploading my shitty ms paint fanart on deviant art in like 2006(naruto funnily enough we've come full circle) i was still drawing cringey shit /I/ wanted to see. I don't agree with almost all of it today, but i remember the fun i had while making it, and that's really the trick. Drawing what you personally want to see then people can come and go audience wise. If they like it, they like it, if they dont? oh well! There's people who still follow me from when i was 14 and i follow them even tho we're in completely different spaces now.

The fanart part i vibe with personally bc im really bad at coming up with totally original work and premises. i much prefer having pre-established rules and worlds to work with (plus the characters i love getting massacred in the writing i HAVE to save them)

Just existing online will garner you mean comments or asks, and my best advice is its not worth it to take the bait even if its absolutely absurd and wrong, i just block and go now, and im much happier :) this all being, of course, as long as what you're doing isnt harmful, bc even with good intentions, you'll mess up/blunder eventually. If the heat gets too much for you, no one will judge you for withdrawing your art from social media. thats a perfectly safe thing to do to keep it for yourself.

As an adult, shits not that serious im 28 drawing naruto fanart bc it makes me happy after a long day of work, so have fun!! art's supposed to be fun don't let the fear win i love sharing my art with strangers on the internet!! Hope this made any sense at all and I wish you the best, my friend!!! If you ever wanna dm me, feel free

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation: Brownie Boy [18]

I've never really been much of a skeptic. If it has a name and a meaning, I think there's always a possibility for it to be real.

Take dreams, for example. In my mind, they always have some kind of connection to the waking world and to the psyche. Your mind knows your greatest fears and your crutches— if you lose teeth in a dream, you feel like you have a loss of control. If you search up something on Google for an answer while in a dream, you lack at decision-making.

There's meaning in everything we do. And our minds, while belonging to us, have an entire personality of their own. Once our conscious shuts off, our brain makes its own decisions. We are but a shell for our mind to manipulate. And this is why we see what we fear most in our dreams— what we love most, what we value most, what we appreciate. Our dreams are what we want and despise most on this earth.

So tell me why the fuck Sal has been in my dreams for the past week.

It's despicable. It aggravates me to no end. Every dream is some rendition of his sky blue eyes glaring into mine. Discreet touches-- his fingers brushing the back of my thighs, his hair on my neck, his leg pressed against mine.

"Y/n, there's three customers up front waiting for a table."

Michael's voice beside me is suddenly followed by his hand clapping onto my shoulder. I flinch in surprise, turning away from the chef with my hands full and my anxiety maxed out.

"I'm not hosting right now," I say frantically, glancing between my fellow coworker and the chef. A lot of the work that I don't normally get has been dropped on me the past few days and I really haven't been appreciative of it. I say that sarcastically, of course. And I don't blame Michael-- he isn't at fault, he's just delivering orders to me that are coming from the boss.

But as of current, I'm sweating from rushing around for lunch, and that's also mixed in with how nervous I am. I can't even take a single breath without someone telling me I have something else to do.

And the reasoning behind this? According to my boss it's, "because you were out so long, you have to make up for the work you missed out on."

An empty wallet has never looked so appetizing before.

"Here's a proposition," Mike says, leaning against the counter beside me. The chef is done with our shit. Usually if we talk to him, he stays silent anyway. "You grab those fellas up front to make our boss happy and I'll take a few of your tables. Sound good?"

I look up at Michael with the best puppy dog eyes I can possible muster up. "Please," I whisper, cracking my knuckles and bunching up the fabric of my apron in my hands.

Michael grins and pushes off the counter, stretching his arms. "Sure thing. You might want to get up there before Mr. Krabs comes stomping out of his glory hole, though."

That makes me perk up a bit. A hand slaps over my mouth to contain my internal giggles just as Mike shoots me a wink and walks off to one of my tables, likely to inform them that he'll be their server.

It's bad and I'd certainly rather be anywhere but here, but I can make do for now, especially if it means repaying Michael for all his help. So I ignore the anxiety (said anxiety is so anxious that we're both trembling) and I walk over to the front of the restaurant to sit some hungry customers.

Thankfully, most of the rest of my short-ish shift slowed down a bit after lunchtime. Upon finally reaching my apartment at about two in the afternoon, I quite literally launched myself into bed and... consequently, I wished I was working again.

For the past two hours, I've sat here staring at my ceiling and reminiscing on my recent past. Thinking about the opportunities I took and missed. Remembering all the fun I had, just wishing I was back with my friends in Las Vegas. It's been a little over a week and June is finally here, but it still feels like I was sleeping in with my best friend just last night.

Thinking about what I've lost and gained within the past month or so is both depressing and incriminating. The sheer amount of down-bad that overran my body is impressive, but wasn't worth it. Never was worth it.

I've slain myself with the sword I wielded. And it was only a matter of time— I knew the consequences, yet I still went along with it. It's not that I'm sad or whatever, I'm merely disappointed in myself for getting involved with someone so heartless and vile.

I feel like I've betrayed myself. I was nothing but a speck and I knew that, but I still allowed myself to be used. That's what everyone would say, and it's what I'm starting to feel. Is that all I am? Is this all I ever will be to someone? Just a body with no mind. Something to be used and defiled over and over again.

By far, the worst pile drive of grief came from having to see photo after photo of Sal and I together on every social media site in existence. It was painful in an unfamiliar way-- a way that I don't quite understand. It was all photos of photos, photos I didn't even realize existed, or the two of us with fans. I clearly remember liking the pictures that Lexi and Kennedy posted. Oh, and apparently the handsome emo knight's name is Timothy. But even the nice memories of my time in Las Vegas doesn't feel as comforting as it once did.

Everything I experienced with my friends is slowly being altered every second that I'm alive. The way I lived in Vegas will never be exactly the same as I remember it now. Being aware of psychological changes is damning. It's depressing. I will never experience anything, or those memories, the same way I did at the time I was really there.

Fuck you, Freud.

My ceiling spins above me, a kaleidoscope of misery and darkness that I haven't suffered through since before being diagnosed with depression. I'm not even quite sure what it is that I'm so down about-- missing Las Vegas, feeling far from my friends, or Sal's asshole persona. It's something, but I feel sick being so torn up over something that's perceived as trivial by everyone else.

Why do I have to care so much? No one else is like this. So why me?

I pinch my lips together, finishing my recount of the tiles on my ceiling. There are 133 whole tiles. 24 half tiles. Add them together and there are 157 total, but it feels weird to bunch those two shapes together when they're clearly different.

I feel like I'm going insane.

Before I can think harder about how frustrated I am with myself, I force myself to sit up then sling myself out of bed. My heels smack into the floor beneath me, cushioned by grey carpet. It's saved my soles, but it can't buffer the deep grief in my heart. A grief that has no explanation or source.

This afternoon will be the first time I play online with The Faces since before Vegas. The first time I see my friends in a week. The first time I face Sal since briefly making eye contact with him the morning I left Nevada (he didn't even bother to come to the airport with the rest of us). And most importantly, the very first time I show my face while streaming-- and of course, when I say my face, I mean my mask. But I haven't shown myself at all. Anything that anyone has ever seen of me has been from pictures shared on social media.

For once, I'm not terrified by the prospect. I'm more worried about having to face Sally Face and more than eager to talk with Ash again. I really, really miss her.

I'm bundled up in my trusty Twenty One Pilots sweatpants (that are still falling apart), Ash's merch hoodie, and slip on the brand new pair of Kuromi slippers that my dad had waiting for me when I got home. If I'm going to endure the hell-spawn that is Sal Fisher, I might as well be comfortable.

A sigh slips past my lips as I drag my feet over to my PC and turn it on, slumping into my chair. I grab my mask that's been sitting on my desk, untouched for days, and fix it onto my face.

My computer whirrs to life as I stare blankly ahead, slipping into a hypnotic state. Dissociating. Wishing this life was anyone else's but mine.

I blink past my own distracting mental state after mere seconds of waiting for things to get moving. I log onto Discord, clicking into The Faces' server and catching up on all the messages I missed.

The first thing I notice is that Ash, the owner of the server, has apparently discovered that she can change everyone's names. Which, honestly, is news to me. It's apparently causing an uproar in-chat.

Two Face: haha. funny ash. hilarious. very original.

Subtract Thine Father: wut did u expect from Ash??? unicorn cum nd fairy shit???? Subtract Thine Father: omfg mine is rad

He Who Pegs: Much like the joke you made in Vegas, right, Sal? He Who Pegs: My username is correct. I am a pegger.

I'm scared to find out what my new name is. These are personal attacks on absolutely every single member of this chat.

With quaking hands, I type out a quick message and hesitate before pressing send. I'm terrified of what Ash has managed to come up with. But it's whatever, surely it couldn't get worse than Two Face, right?

Closet Dweller: these are horrendously accurate names... i'm a little scared...

My stomach flies out of my ass when I see my name. Good God, I'm not sure how Ash managed to come up with that one but... it's not too far off the marker. I'll give her props.

Closet Dweller: dear god.

Subtract Thine Father: LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO VI

He Who Pegs: Do I smell a fellow homosexual?

Closet Dweller: i will neither confirm nor deny. maybe i'm just locked in my mother's closet or something, ever think of that?

He Who Pegs: Like an Oedipus Complex?

Closet Dweller: NO TODD!!! NO!!!!!!!

It's impressive how simple socialization has managed to cheer me up a bit. I know Todd is really into psychology like I am, so I'm not surprised that he threw something like that in, but I am shocked that he hit me with a joke that heavy.

He Who Pegs: Laughing my ass off.

Subtract Thine Father: srsly todd, just abbreviate it i'm guna die of erection Subtract Thine Father: embarasment**

He Who Pegs: That was an epic fail and epic foreshadowing. Bravo, Larry. Quite the Freudian slip.

I shake my head at my two friends, tears brimming my eyes as I try to contain the fit of laughter that so desperately wants to be released.

Closet Dweller: what's ash's name?

Kween Pussy Popper: Hi :3

I have to shut my eyes and look away from the screen. Her name is funny enough, but her little emote and the casual entrance just makes this entire thing ten times funnier.

My hand slaps over my mouth and I shake my head, tapping my fingers against my desk. I'm so going to get in trouble with these people.

I'm going to cough up a lung or something later, but it'll be worth it, so I look up at my computer again.

Subtract Thine Father: waddup pussy kween Subtract Thine Father: can u share sum bc i am lacking. Subtract Thine Father: u kno how the grinch's heart grows 4 xmas? well my dick shrinks the longer i go wo a snazzy lady Subtract Thine Father: save a horse ride a cowboy, as they say Subtract Thine Father: i am the cowboy. where r my bitches??????? lonesome. desperate. choking. dying.

The chat goes quiet momentarily so I smile and scoot away from my desk. The objective was to roll across the floor-- no, glide-- and look like some kind of fairy in slo-mo, but I forgot that I have carpeted flooring. So my chair rolls for not even a second before coming to an abrupt stop. Pathetic and not so glorious.

My smile slips off my face as I push myself off the chair and walk across the rest of my room to my bedroom door. Lame. 

Getting to talk with everyone has really upped my spirits in a way I didn't expect. It's really odd how the little things just so happen to matter so much when even big things don't seem to matter as much anymore. Even I don't feel like I matter much anymore, but Larry, Ash, and Todd somehow manage to remind me that they care in their own little ways. Whether it's through goofy conversations that don't even include me or silly nicknames, they're the sole reason for my overflowing dopamine.

My feet pad through the hallway and into the kitchen where I get my hands on the #1 best struggle meal that America has to offer.

Microwaveable ramen. Beef, specifically.

The funniest thing about microwaveable ramen is that hardly anyone makes it the right way. And if you do make it the right way, great job! You have an extra brain cell. The rest of us heathens, on the other hand, put the little styrofoam cup in the radiation incubation tank anyway and call it a day. Warnings be damned. 

So I walk back to my room with my little cup of ramen, styrofoam nice and warm, fresh out the microwave for all my haters, and I plop back into my desk chair with chopsticks at the ready.

But my eyebrows furrow when I place my headset back on and catch up on the Discord conversation I'd walked away from.

Kween Pussy Popper: Can we get on a call now? I miss Vi and starting early is my excuse to talk to her now :(  Kween Pussy Popper: OMGGG!!! It's also a really big day bc Vi is going to be on camera for once!!! eeeee >.<

Subtract Thine Father: ya getin on now >:)

I scroll down on all our channels to find all four members of The Faces in Ash's VC. I'm late to the party. Now, the issue with this is... I'm stuck. My cursor hovers over the voice channel, but I just can't find it in myself to actually click on the thing. My finger lightly sits on top of the mouse, ready to press down but I can't. My heart physically jumps into my throat, choking me with emotion and grief and unadulterated fear that has absolutely no fucking business hanging around in my body like this.

Truth be told, I knew I'd get tired of my fear sooner or later. I'd get so tired that I'd just grab my issue by the balls and disrespect it doggy style. And I'm close-- so close to finally following through with this aggressive exhaustion. But I need one more excuse to tip me over the metaphorical edge. 

My chopsticks dip into my steaming ramen and pick up brothy goodness in noodle form. I slurp up the last bit of dignity I need to be restored and finally click on the option that launches me into the chat before I can stop myself again.

Only, when I do this, I'm staring at all four other members of our server... but also myself. Noodles hanging out of my mouth, broth drip-dropping onto my desk because I'm a messy eater. Dignity not restored, but even more lost in exchange. 

I love life so much. Note the sarcasm.

Larry grins while everyone else kind of watches me, stuck like a deer in headlights and unable to just eat my food like a normal human being. "Gobble, gobble, Closet Dweller," are Larry's first four physically spoken words to me since I hugged him goodbye in the Las Vegas airport about a week ago.

A small smile tugs at my own lips as I quickly suck the rest of my way too big bite of noodles into my mouth and, well, gobble as Larry suggested.

"Closet Dweller was targeted. I'm only a little offended, but I think that name would be better suited for Todd, right?" I ask, eyes glancing between Ash, Larry, and Todd on the screen while purposefully avoiding a no doubt brooding Sal. I refuse to look at him.

Ash's nose scrunches up in disagreement, her melodic voice flowing through my headphones to follow the action. "Todd is out of the closet. You, on the other hand, are still playing hide and seek behind your mom's pajamas like you're looking for a passage to Narnia. Plus, Todd is a renowned pegger."

Todd nods, pinching his lips together. I wait for him to laugh and say 'Jay kay' or something, you know, odd like he is, but he doesn't. And even freakier is that no one seems alarmed.

"He also has a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel' so no one is more worthy of that nickname than him. King Arthur ain't got shit on my guy," Ash chirps proudly, tilting her chin up with a little smirk on her lips. Her cat ear headphones glow a bright green, reflecting the joy and pride she feels regarding the nickname she came up with.

My eyebrows pinch together beneath my mask and my attention turns to Todd. "You have a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel?'"

Todd gives me the sweetest little upside down smile and quickly rises from his seat, showing off the back wall of his room that is... plain as fuck, to be quite honest. But that's okay because Todd is organized, so it's only fair that his walls are organized as well. 

Todd reappears just two seconds later, holding up a long-sleeved, mustard yellow shirt that says exactly what he and Ash claimed it would.

I break into a face-splitting grin. "That's sick," I voice, moving closer to my computer to get a better look at the shirt. I didn't lie either. I'd assassinate some really important government leaders to get my hands on that.

"See! You're such a closet hermit!" Ash exclaims, pointing a finger at me with wide eyes and an open-mouthed smile.

"Since when?" I counter, crossing my arms over my chest good-naturedly. This is all in fun, Ash knows damn well I wouldn't have kissed her or even entertained the idea if I wasn't a little fruity. "Sal should get the nickname, he was the one trying to bed Hot Excalibur Emo Knight."

Yea, the acknowledgement and statement left my lips before I could remember that I was inadvertently giving Sally Face the silent treatment. Hades' personal hellhound is a taboo here. That man is a curse word in this house. I set myself up and now I have to put a quarter into my mental swear jar.

I note how Sal shifts in his seat out of the corner of my eye. Not that I care. In fact, I saw nothing.

"You're missing the point, Vi!" Ash shakes her head, faux disappointment marring her meticulously designed facial features. "Sal is out of the closet. He's as much of a cooked noodle as he is a raw one." Her distinction between gay and straight is fascinating. "You, on the other hand, are a recluse and hiding betwixt MawMaw bras and old, dusty infinity scarves from your mother's regretted youth. You want a different name, then come out of your hidey-hole already."

My jaw drops and I stare at my friend who looks quite proud of her outlandish accusations, even if they aren't so outlandish.

Larry is red-faced and Todd couldn't care less; he's too busy folding up his Cracker Barrel shirt. 

"How come I'm a target today?" I snicker, leaning my head on my fist as I look back at my best friend. 

"Because I'm feeling extra aggressive and a little frisky. In other words, the fruit is ripe. Flirt with me and I'll be in your bed within two to five business minutes," Ash winks at me, tongue swiping along her bottom lip.

I frown. "Well that sucks. I don't have any good pick-up lines. I only have really shitty psychology jokes. I guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight." I sigh and take another bite of ramen, dramatically looking off into the distance-- which is just the wall behind my computer. Blank space, baby.

"There's so much sexual tension packed into you two that I'm starting to suffocate," Larry pipes up, voice soft and astonished. "I'm drowning and I love it." He has stars in his wide, hickory-colored eyes.

I can't stop smiling. This expression is permanently etched onto my face, a tattoo. "We're just picking, Lar. Don't get your hopes up."

"Picking?" Ash gasps, feigning shock. She leans back with a hand to her chest. "All this time, your affection was a lie?"

"Alas, it was never real," I reply, dipping my head down to hide the my happy smile again. I have to play my part, but I can't do that with my face set like this.

Larry cackles in response. "The one woman you can't get, Ash!" He exclaims, wild giggles filtering through the call. I look up again, watching the way Ash's eyes narrow.

"I never thought this would happen to me. Not my Vivi..." She trails off, shutting her eyes to express her sadness.

"The fuck did you expect?" Larry prods, scooting close to his camera so that all we see is the bridge of his nose, dark eyes, and his thick brows-- one is arched in question. "Unicorn guts and fairy shit?" He quotes himself beautifully, reusing his remark from in-chat. "Fellatio and scissoring? This isn't Disney, Ash. If anything, we're wrapped up in a Grimm Brothers' fairytale."

I have to put my fist over my mouth to hide my reaction because that's the most accurate thing that Larry has said all day. And he even brought out big boy words like fellatio. Has he been studying?

Sal lets a boyish chuckle slip and my gaze cuts to him despite my better judgement. He's bent down, instinctually covering the mouth of his prosthetic, seemingly forgetting that we can't actually see his facial expression. It's such a normal action, one that I'm not used to when it comes to him. It's a moment where I can't look away. A rare moment where I get that weird feeling for him again-- one that I've only experienced maybe three times since meeting him. It's that domestic and naive feeling, where he's a normal person that I yearn for a bit. He's not an asshole, he's not hidden behind a prosthetic. He's just a guy that I know. A guy that I'd like to touch and see and feel on a deeper level.

I blink when he tilts his head back, revealing his pretty dagger tattoo and a veiny hand that runs through his hair. He pushes his fringe back, making little blue strands stick up in different directions.  

I can't help but straighten my sitting position. Slouching gone, body attentive. I don't know if I'm nervous, wary, excited, or stuck in some admiring state. But it's weird. And I do not want to be feeling it. I never asked for this.

And yea, he still looks the same. Painfully the same. Like a beacon in the dead of night. Tales of his past on his skin, his hair like streaks of bright cerulean paint on a canvas. The worst aspect of him is his eyes. They haunt me. 

He looks up at the camera again, having finally collected himself a few moments ago, showing off the feature of his that I loathe so much.

All the colors of an Aurora Borealis dance in his irises; the natural blue hue darkened into a teal from the lack of lighting. Little flashes of green and pale purple reflect onto his eyes from his computer screen, creating a kaleidoscope clash of colors that cover his entire prosthetic face. So many shades of life that mix to mimic something I've always wanted to witness for myself. I just didn't expect to see it in the eyes of who I both despise and desire most in this miserable life of mine. 

What the hell is wrong with me? How dare I fall into this kind of depression over Sal Fisher? No one has ever betrayed me as many times as I've betrayed myself at this point.

Ash's voice steals me from my mind's ruthless vices. "That's a pretty morbid scarf, Vi."

My gaze flicks to her and I scrunch my eyebrows again. "Scarf?" I ask. I'm not wearing a scarf. It's summer. In Los Angeles. "What scarf?" She's probably going to make some kind of joke that she's been holding out on for a while.

Ash scoots closer to her computer, eyes filled with confusion. They squint and she says, "Yea... scarf. It looks like a hand. Is it a hand?"

"Ash, what the fuck are you talking about? It's summer. Why would I wear a scarf?" I give her a bewildered look that's buffered by my mask, but the conversation attracts everyone else's attention too. Larry and Todd both move closer to their computers and, shockingly, Sal even tilts his head, eyes glued to the screen.

I look down, but I can't see anything near me or on me. Is this some elaborately planned joke or something?

"Uh," Todd says, voice a mix of confused and concerned, which sets off alarm bells in my head. "Yea. There's a hand. That's a hand."

I plan on answering, but then Ash screams and then something cold wraps around my throat and I scream in turn.

My reaction is instant-- I shove myself away from my desk, headset ripped off my head and the hand forced off of my neck. I hear a resounding 'oof' as I knock into something, or more like someone.

My room is dark, pitch black, so I leap off of my chair and into the darkness. My heart is racing a mile a minute, my hands shake with fear and adrenaline, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Who the fuck is in my room. What the fuck is going on?

I see the silhouette of a tall figure through the low light of my computer. It's bent a bit, pale arm wrapped around their stomach.

I back up toward my wall, listening to the quiet, panicked voices of my friends yelling for me to answer them from my headset. And then my phone rings in my pocket-- for fuck's sake-- so I have no choice but to rush to the knife hanging on the wall right beside my door (I'm paranoid and clearly for good reason) and flick on my bedroom light, ready to launch and attack whoever's dumb enough to be here.

I hold my breath, wide-eyed with a war drum hammering away at my chest as light floods my room. I'm going to either get charged with homicide or be the homicidee. Is that even a word?-- actually, I don't care. It's a word now.

But as soon as I see the supposed figure squinting in the sudden brightness, I'm so relieved that I nearly fall to my knees, whimpering despite how embarrassing that might seem to someone else.

The Faces start yelling again.

"Did I scare you?" His hypnotizing, baritone voice fills me with an eerie calm that melts away the string of adrenaline keeping me afloat as of present.

"And my friends who think I'm about to be murdered? Of fucking course, you thundercunt," I hiss, stomping over to what I previously thought was going to be my demise.

"That's for never bringing back my screwdriver."

I roll my eyes, groaning in a mix of anger and exasperation once I stand in front of my neighbor and long-time friend. Nate looks down at me with a handsome little smirk on his full lips and forever messy black waves hanging over his forehead. "Fuck you," I grunt, taking a step past him to kick in the back of his knees. Said knees buckle and he yelps, quickly catching himself with a hand on my shoulder as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.

I grab my headset off the ground and lean down so my friends can see me. I watch relief flood their faces instantly, with the exception of Sal, of course. I grab my mic without putting the headset on and say "I'll be right back."

Setting them back down, I turn away from The Faces and look to Nate again, arms crossed over my chest. I pull my mask off just so he can see how astronomically pissed I am.

The asshole only laughs harder. The charm in that singular sound alone makes me want to punch him in the face. 

Nathaniel Emilio Luis Espinosa has been a daredevil since I met him, always raging over danger and reaching for that incomparable fear factor. He has lots of personality, and a lot of that personality has been met with a chancla to the face, courtesy of his overprotective mamá that won't take his bullshit even after she's in the grave. 

And that's why Mrs. Lucía and I are besties at heart. And in sandals.

But to go with Nate's desperate yearning for bad things is social anxiety. He hardly ever leaves his apartment and he'll claw at his walls to stay inside. I think that's why he's more than happy to make brownies for me and get absolutely decimated in Mario Kart whenever he comes to visit-- he isn't really leaving the apartment building, but he isn't alone either. 

He's also quite a looker. I have no doubt that if Sal ever met him, he'd be drooling all over the guy. Nate has sharp facial features that are just... perfect in almost every way. Little beauty marks on different sections of his face, angular nose, a jawline that could cut air. Everything is only accentuated by his shoulder length, wavy, midnight black hair that he hates so much (all he ever talks about is how aggravating the upkeep is) and his equally as dark eyes that still entrance me to this day. Plus, he's tall. 6'4 last I checked and built like Stonehenge-- gorgeous and unbreakable. 

Basically, he has no problem getting pussy. I'm never concerned about his sex life. His love life, on the other hand...

"You're in deep shit," I huff out, looking away from my friend who grins proudly. I move over to my bed-side table and dig in the one drawer it has, pulling out his beloved screwdriver. I turn back to him and hold it up for him to see, waving it dramatically before walking back over to him.

I grab his hand and slap it into his palm. "You're lucky I don't scrape off your kneecaps for that. I ought to call your mom and tell her what you've done. I could have had a stroke!"

Nate's eyebrows pinch together as if to sarcastically say 'sure bitch' but then he seems to process what I said. He suddenly hisses and his sable eyes go wide. "Please, I'm actually really sorry. Don't call my mom."

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," I counter with, stepping up so we're nearly chest-to-chest.

"Because you love me," Nate bats his eyelashes at me, but that ship sailed years ago. He can't get me with that look anymore. He licks his lips, pink tongue darting out quickly. "And because I'll make brownies for you every week for the next month?" he tacks on.

I purse my lips. "Let me continue to borrow your screwdriver and it's a done deal."

Nate looks like a kicked puppy over our game of deal-or-no-deal. But he accepts anyway, sniffling over his loss. 

"How did you even get into my apartment?" I ask with a scoff, putting my mask back on and plopping into my desk chair. I face my friends who watch me in confusion, terror, and intrigue. 

"With the key you gave me. Duh," Nate says matter-of-factly, walking up behind me. I need to go get checked out or something because how could I forget that I gave Nate a key? "What's with the mask?" he asks.

I suck in a breath. "That's a really long story for another time," I tell him, grabbing hold of my headset and situating it back on. 

Nate leans over me, settling his chin on my shoulder from behind as his hands grip the armrests on my chair. I watch him through my camera as he gazes at my screen, meeting the eyes of The Faces. 

Tongue in cheek, I address my friends again. "Sorry, I'm not a victim of murder," I say quickly. "this is my neighbor, Nate."

Larry blinks, "Oh. He's brownie boy?" I snort. "He's kinda..." A sexy grin forms on his face and I roll my eyes. 

"Yea, he'd love to hear that," I say pointedly, glancing at Nate who's still hanging around.

"Wait," Nate murmurs, lifting his head and moving closer to the screen. "Why are you talking? You're just watching a video, right?"

"You're late to the party," I tell him, unable to stop myself from giggling a bit. "This is a discord call. With The Faces. I know you've heard of them, I talk about Ash all the time." 

"Of course I've heard of them. I just... didn't think you meant this Ash," he says bashfully, shaking his head a bit so his hair falls into his eyes. It's a little anxiety thing of his, makes his hair fall into his face in an attempt to hide however much he can. 

I put my hand over his that's still holding onto my armrest in hopes of both calming and reassuring him. He gets so nervous...

He lets out a little sigh behind me before setting his chin on my shoulder again. He doesn't say another word. That skill is lost on him at the moment, which is a frequent thing for him in social and social-ish settings. 

I look back to my other friends and give them a little smile, but they're still staring. They look so confused that they don't know how to act, which, okay. Fair.

And all is quiet up until Sal talks for the first time since the call started.

"You moved on from the hot knight pretty quickly." 

It's said in a very... suggesting way. It makes my eye twitch in response. It's so aggravating that he still manages to piss me off by simply breathing. I swear if his mic was too close to his face right now and I heard him take a breath, I'd have to fly to Nockfell just to slap him. 

"Hot knight is still on my list," I say tastelessly. "But I didn't see him interested in you so I don't understand why he's a topic."

I watch Sal's eyes narrow in agitation and I match his emotions and expression. He thinks he's so important. What was the point of bringing up Timothy the knight? He's been quiet this entire call. Why couldn't he have just stayed that way?

"I can talk about whatever I want. You just piss me off. Your boyfriend tried to kill you and he's getting in on our call. I have an issue with his presence. Yours too, honestly," Sal says, voice monotonous and bored, like it's a waste of his time to have to explain himself.

"He's not my boyfriend, jackass," I say in a grating voice. I'm at that tired point again. Just fucking tired of him... and not at the same time. Part of me is yearning for the aggression. The vexation. The resentment we share for each other and all the delicious arguments and loathing it brings. I miss it-- everything before we embarked on our short-lived shit-uationship. "And I have an issue with your presence too. You piss me off. I see why Ash nicknamed you two-face-- you're so nice to everyone, but you're a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're actually just a lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet."

"Damn," Larry hisses, leaning back in his chair and staring at his screen like he's been stabbed. "I felt that in my prostate."

Nate's head moves from my shoulder and I turn to address him, but end up watching his form crumple to the floor in a heap of laughing mess. He shoots me a quick thumbs up, but whether it was an agreement, pride, or to tell me he's okay-- I'm not sure.

Ash is holding herself together by a thread, bottom lip between her teeth as tears well in her eyes. She doesn't dare blink, or else those tears will fall (and crash around me, or whatever Bullet For My Valentine once said).

"You're lucky as fuck that I'm not in your general vicinity," Sal barks out, fire blazing in his otherwise frosty eyes.

"Or what?" I taunt, tilting my head. He wouldn't hit me. He's a self-proclaimed feminist after all, if that's even true. So what would he do? Punish me? Tarnish my squeaky clean online image? He could still do that without being in my general vicinity. That statement was so loaded that I'm starting to get a little nervous...

"Military weapons-grade, apocalypse-inducing, soul-severing revenge. That's all," Sal says nonchalantly. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed and ring-clad fingers tapping his biceps. And he's... hot. And terrifying. And so, so infuriating. I hate him.

"I'd like to see you try all that," I reply, sucking my teeth. In truth, I'm not as on top of my shit as I could be because I'm still upset and confused over him. I'm angry, but not enough to properly express it. Sal's been an issue from the start, but now he's becoming even more of one.

"Watch me," is his snarky reply. And I know I can't actually determine if it's me he's staring at like that, but the feeling I get says that his glare is baring right into my image on his screen. I can feel his detest across the country, aimed directly at me. It makes a shiver run down my spine and I grip my armrests tighter.

"Is that a threat?" I bite out, swallowing thickly.

His eyes light up a bit, and then they squint. Almost like he's smiling. And then he says, in a sickeningly gentle and dark voice, "It's a promise."

________________

A/N::::: On today's episode of Ryver Rhoulette: is that a decomp stain or is it just moldy cum?

SORRY anyway, HI I AM BACK <333 i spent most of my break sick and suffering from writer's slump... it's not a block because i know what i wanna write, just couldn't get the thoughts out o_e

first off, i know this chapter is a little shorter and i'm sorry about that. i know it's been a while, so i definitely owe you guys a LOT more content than what's in here (especially since it's pretty much filler...) but next chapter is going to be VERY fun :D i can't promise or predict when the next chapter will be, but i have plenty of time to work on it before i go back to school on january 12th! so if not soon, definitely whenever college starts up because i have a yucky habit of procrastinating and getting WONDERFUL fic ideas instead of doing work >:)

also of note: i will be posting a Sal-lore chapter again soon. it may come before the next Faceless Fixation canon chapter, just fair warning. i literally have no idea which i will get inspo for first LOL

until next time, my sweet doves! i love you all so infinitely much <33 have a great morning/day/evening/night! sending big squishes and loves :3

P.S. GUESS WHO NATE IS BASED ON I FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIHEIWHEL

P.S.S. huge thanks to @weaslebeeps for coming up with Todd in a "I got pegged at Cracker Barrel" shirt AND for drawing it??? LIKE ACTUALLY????? i love u sweetness <3

[theyanderespecialist]

(FORGOT TO POST THIS!) Base Yandere Jeff The Killer (AGED UP to 22) Headcanons: Obsessive Smile (Creepypasta)

@ariafoxgloveworld Here you go!

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! Welcome back to another chapter. This chapter is also going to be made into a video format on my youtube. It also might have a scenario in the video. Maybe, Maybe not! Anyways I hope that you all enjoy this one!] 

(Disclaimer #1: JEFF THE KILLER IS AGED UP TO 22 IN THIS HE IS NOT A MINOR HE IS AN ADULT! 

Disclaimer #2 Jeff the killer is not yandere in canon. This is fiction! This is also just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!) 

(Once again, please enjoy this chapter!) 

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Jeff The Killer (AGED UP TO 22)- 

.Jeff the killer has been killing since he was thirteen. 

.He killed his family, and his brother did not die. 

.He is now a creepypasta, he stopped aging a decade ago. 

.He is physically 22 but has been around longer than that! 

.He is also a Serial killer. 

.When he is not killing teenagers or young adults he is normally just lurking around and traveling across the U.S. 

.By chance he meets you in his off time. 

.He thought you were really hot, but just shrugs it off. 

.Thing is he cannot get you out of his mind. YOU ARE DRIVING HIM CRAZY! 

.How dare you consume his attention, who the hell do you think you are? 

.Eventually, it becomes too much for him, and he begins to stalk you. 

.That is right, he is the type of yandere that will stalk you (shocker) 

.He would want to learn your routine and learn if he has any rivals, who would not last long. 

.If he does have rivals he will follow them as well. then he will put the to sleep for good. 

.He will go one step further. 

.Cutting out their eyes and heart and leaving them at your home. 

.He is a psychologically manipulating yandere that is for sure. 

.Going to torment you mentally in his sick way of courtship. 

.He would go after anyone that even look at you sideways. 

.Anyone you depend on, friends, family, pets. 

.They will all be put to sleep. You will feel that it is your fault that you put them all at risk. 

.Really Jeff wants you all to himself. 

.So he will strip you of everyone. 

.That is when he will break into your home, get on top of you, and press a knife to your throat. 

.Confessing his feelings to you, telling you how he killed all the people he did for you. 

.He is a very unhinged yandere that is for sure. 

.If you accept his love, may it be because you want him (WHY tho, I mean come on muffin? REALLY?) or because of your fear (I mean he does have a knife to your throat and has confessed to killing EVERYONE for you, this one does make more sense)

.Anyways if you accept his love, he will kiss you and make love to you right there on your bed, knife close by just in case. 

.Now, if you turn him down he is knocking you out and kidnapping you. 

.He is going to teach you to love him, then you will be his good little darling. 

.He is drunk on you, you (to him) complete him. 

.He is a VERY Obsessive yandere that will become hyper-fixated on you. 

.He also if he has to, will make him pretty like him. 

.Cutting a nice permanent smile on your face. 

.That way when anyone looks at you. They will know that you are his and his alone, forever and always. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done, remember this is also in video format! I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[ottpopfic]

But Jason had figured out a new thing that got Leo going, when a make-out session had got a little too staticy. Who knew that when you man can spit electricity, literally, that can translate to bed?

---

Leo never thought restraints would be part of his sex life. But there's something about not being able to fidget with his hands, that he cant touch or fix or manipulate anything, that it keeps him so fixated and overwhelming in the moment. He also thinks Jason just has a thing for taking care of him, all that honor and duty and protectiveness gets rolled into melting Leo’s brain at any chance he can get. It's a good combo for them

But Jason had figured out a new thing that got Leo going, when a make-out session had got a little too staticy. Who knew that when you man can spit electricity, literally, that can translate to bed? 

So that's where Leo finds himself, for arms bound together with the leather cuffs to the headboard while Jason shocks hickeys down his sternum. And it's really good, but Jason is having way more fun than he should be for how fucked out Leo is feeling without even coming yet.

Something about both the bite and the shock has Leo losing his mind. It makes his muscles seize in a way that's just so good. But then Jason has decided that it's time to work on his nipples, mouth on one and fingers on the other. Biting and pinching and sending these little shocks and Leo is positive he's gonna combust 

“Wait, wait back up, blue blue blue” Leo’s slurring out in a hurry

Jason laughs enamored and bright, pulling away so Leo can safely vent heat. Leo can feel the sweat evaporating off of him as flames lick down his body, his panting putting hot steam into the air. He's at least aware enough not to set the bed on fire, again

When he no longer feels like the Human Torch he lets out a shaky “Green” so Jason can join him again. His man is still laughing, his eyes fond as he gets back into Leo’s space. 

“I love that I make you do that,'' chuckles Jason before going back to kissing him. His hands are exploring his sides and hips like he's feeling to see if there's a difference post flame on. Then his fingers are spreading out where they have gripped Leo's hips and he's letting little shocks of electricity dance between them over his skin

Leo moans loud and long into his man's mouth, the muscles in his legs twitching. Jason laughs again, but it's not at Leo's expense. More like a kid in a candy shop told to go wild, laughter the only way to express the joy. His eyes are sparkling when he pulls back so he can watch Leo's face when he does it again

“I love you,” Jason says through his smile “I want to see if I can get you to do that again, can I go down on you?”

“ Te amo, fuck yes please ” 

Jason laughs again before kissing his way down Leo's body. He's having way too much fun for how wrecked Leo feels 

“Remember your colors” Jason reminds before drawing Leo into his mouth 

And Jason has always been good with his mouth, he has an oral fixation strong enough to power a small city. But this time when he swirls his tongue over the head he lets a spark connect first. It's light enough not to be real pain, but Leo howls with it nonetheless. 

Jason takes his time with it, building Leo up with his mouth and electricity till he's shaking with the strain. Pushing him just far enough to not overheat but still driving him mad. Leo is absolutely cussing him out in Spanish the whole time

Leo gets out a whimpered warning of “Blue” right before he comes. The fire ignites the same time he does, running over his whole body as he shakes apart against his restraints. As he comes down he can feel Jason pat out the scorch marks on the bed

“Why are you like this” Leo whines, he can't feel his legs 

“I'm having a lot of fun” Jason laughs again, lying down next to him “How are you holding up?”

Leo just groans in reply. Jason presses giggling kisses into his cheek and neck as Leo catches his breath. When he comes back to his body enough to catch Jason's mouth with his own his man checks in again

“M’ good” Leo gets out against his lips, he's starting to feel drunk on Jason again from all the kissing and just the smell of him

“How's your hands, you want it off?”

“Please”

When Jason gets the cuffs off Leo pulls his man over him by the back of his neck. They make out for a long while, no bells and whistles just their mouths together. Easy and good and familiar, just one tooth-rotting kiss after another.

“M’kay” Leo eventually says against his lips “I wanna be on top now”

Jason sighs out an “‘Kay” and flips them over, Leo sitting in the larger man's lap. And that's just wonderful, because Leo can grind down as he pleases into his man, and Jason won't do anything more than whine into the bruising kisses. 

Leo loves sex with Jason like this, his man all soft under him and loving whatever he gives him. His hands are in the blond's hair, nails scratching and using his neck and shoulders to get a better angle. Jason trails his palms up Leo's thighs, and when he gets his hands under the swell of his ass he sends a short shock of electricity through him. Leo throws his head back to grasp into the open air, his breath superheated and steaming out of him like a tea kettle 

“Fuck” Jason all but whimpers seeing the heat coming off of him. He runs his hands up and down Leo’s ribs and thighs like he's trying to find the source “You have no idea how hot that is”

“Heh, ‘hot’” Leo snickers

“Shut up” Jason tries to chastise but it gets broken off into a moan when Leo grinds down again, bracing his arms behind himself on Jason's knees. Their like that for a while, chasing their release, fronting on each other. Jason is pulling Leo closer and closer with each movement, until Leo’s in the curl of him, knees at his back mouth on his neck.

“Get your hand on us” Leo directs as it becomes harder to move in this position, and Jason complies with a groan. Neither of them lasts much longer after that

As Leo comes back down to earth he feels Jason back to making a mess of his neck. He's got his nose pressed in hard to his pulse point, then It's teeth scraping down the artery. Leo butts his head into his man’s, the way he knows Jason likes in greeting and comfort, and rubs his cheek across his hair for good measure. Jason sighs into his shoulder and pulls him closer.

“You good?” Leo checks, running his fingers back through his man’s hair

“So good” Jason replies, before pressing a staticy bite into Leo’s collarbone

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Hi!! What’s ur writing process like? I love ur stories so much they’re very well-written and filled with so much information/emotion and are very detailed! This may be silly because this part may come naturally to u but do u also have any tips on how to be more detailed in writing? Sorry if this is silly, I just really admire ur work! 😊

not silly at all anon!!! 🥺 tysm for your sweet words, i’m more than happy to answer any writing questions even if i….. honestly don’t really know what i’m doing most of the time LMAO.

my writing process in general is this!!

1/ cry

2/ throw up

3/ words.

….. JOKES ASIDE. well. my writing process is kind of a mess, anon!! :’3 the way it usually goes is that i get an idea stuck in my head, write some kind of outline for it, daydream about it and then… procrastinate on writing it until the day i want to post it 😭😭 WHICH IS. very bad. don’t do that. it’s better to take your time and work a little every day, sadly my brain just… genuinely can’t work like that and i hate it </3

this might sound a little silly but. for me to actually sit down and lock in on writing, the conditions need to be. perfect 😔 i can’t be too sleepy or restless, i need to have some kind of drink and treat for emotional support, etc… but i think that kinda stuff shouldn’t be ignored!! some people can only really write when they’re in a certain place (café, at home, etc), or when they’re listening to certain music, and so on!! so if you want to get into writing it’s a good idea to find out what environment and conditions are most ideal for you :33

as for writing with more detail!!! i’m assuming you mean descriptions and stuff? :> i think it’s something that comes to you naturally after you’ve built it up enough in your writing routine, but that can take some time!! atp it’s not something i really Think about, but when i first started out i don’t think i fixated much on descriptions at all….. so never feel silly for asking!!! the only real advice i can think of is just to really zero in on what you’re describing. an action, an object, a person — and so on!! like, if a character lifts their hand, you could describe it like that word for word, right? but you could also zero in on the exact movement, their fingers, their sleeve slipping down. and stuff :3 it’s really fun to me because there’s just… sooo many different things you could focus on or let the reader know about. descriptions are a kind of dissection and i think it’s most fun when you’re really getting deep, you know?

i hope that makes sense!!! basically, just. have fun with it!! visualize the scene inside your brain. it’s also generally really really helpful to remember to include all senses in your descriptions — not just sight, but also smell, sound, touch, and so on!!! that’s a great way to make your writing more descriptive, especially if you want to build up a certain atmosphere. if your character is stepping onto a beach, and you describe what the sea looks like, but also the seasalt-scent in the air, the warm sand under their feet, the laughter around them… then it’ll add a lot to the overall vibe.

OHHH and and and!!! show, don’t tell is another helpful rule of thumb!!!! if you try not to outright say what a character is feeling, but instead show it through different tells, it’ll make your writing feel more descriptive right away, since you’ll probably end up focusing a lot on little movements and actions :3 ….. i’m not really one to talk though because i’m. kinda bad at show don’t tell. but it’s a great tool nonetheless!!!!

okay, i think . that’s all the advice i have… again, i really hope it can help you some, anon!! 🥺 pls remember to experiment and have fun first and foremost, you can always go back to your pieces and add stuff after you’re done writing your little heart out. good luck and remember that me and the mice are cheering you on in your writing journey always 🫡🫡🫡

[beatsboy]

8.19.24 / day 57 of being a delusional artist

day 5 of moon time

today was chaotic, i was under slept, it was 90 degrees outside, and yet, i still carved out time for my art, albeit at the end of the day, and i almost managed to eat a meal before 11am (even though i’d been up since 8). the problem is not when i wake up, i don’t even mind if i get up late, it’s that i keep getting stuck in holes. in hyper fixations. and not the good kind. like the kind that makes your fear of contamination worse and worse every time you open instagram. like the kind that makes grocery stores a battle ground.

today in therapy, we talked about my obsessions, compulsions, and how they’ve been inhibiting my daily life lately. it feels like it’s always about control, unless it’s about my father. i did realize today in therapy, that, because my father controlled me for so much of my life—even when i rebelled, and sometimes especially when i rebelled—i relied on him to inform me of what was real, what wasn’t, what was good, bad, immoral, etc and now i have to figure these things out for myself.

instead of asking myself what i think, though, i ask the internet. i look for experts to validate any side, either side, any opinion, just tell me it’s right and true and real. like my dawn dish soap. i don’t really give a shit if it’s poisonous or not, i’d just like to know if i need to stop using it. it’s more than the dawn dish soap, though. and it’s about more than controlling my environment in a post-addiction life. it’s about the root of the problem: i don’t trust myself anymore. or, maybe i never did, i’m not sure.

i don’t really think i trusted myself back then, i think i more so just leaned into the chaos of it all and let go. sure, substances helped to embrace this chaos. my (same) therapist at the time told me that she thought perhaps i didn’t want to let go of my attachment to being a hot mess. she was right, of course. that was a difficult part of myself to let go of since it was inextricably tied to being accountable for my actions, and responsible for actual growth and change. it was easier to cry about my ex, fuck his friends, and blame it on how much i drank. same as it was easier to go into a k hole in my bedroom and have video sex with strangers on the internet, shoving a dildo up my ass until i feel something, barely able to remember it the next day when i go to work, than to simply be alone with myself at night, in a time when everything was closed, and i had no one else to talk to.

so, alas, now, that i am not an unhinged addicted closeted transsexual, i have let go of much of the chaos, and yet, i have found myself bound to an order that does not always serve me. there are rules in my head, spirals that lead to rabbit hole upon rabbit hole of research and internet deep diving, only to come out with no answers. i still don’t know if crocs are toxic, if dawn dish soap is poisoning me, or if receipts put forever chemicals in your bloodstream just by touching them, but there are some things i cannot afford to worry about, and those things are taking up so much space in my brain it is hard to see anything else. yes, we are talking about if i have ocd or not, i think it might just be the autism though if i’m being honest like, i haven’t always been so afraid of food and contamination things, it’s really developed more and more since covid. that’s when i developed an intense fear of getting sick (i remember taking a full shower and stripping my clothes in the garage the first time i was exposed) and working in healthcare where i had to be exposed was not fun during that time, so i just tried to learn as much as i could to feel as in control of the situation as i could, because i was so scared of getting it. when i got the call that i was getting my vaccine, i literally cried. and now, i know i’m immunocompromised, and the vaccine is not t h a t effective on me and i’ve had it like 3 fucking times and i’m even more scared now because of that so yeah

and i mean i want to believe that it’s the food poisoning me, that it’s my dish soap, or my polyester clothing because even removing every single ounce of plastic from my life is easier than going through the american healthcare system when you don’t know what’s wrong with you and i do know parts, i know about my eds, which has helped explain a lot, and i know that my digestion is s l o w but i don’t know w h y so that’s fun

through all this fear, nonetheless, and realizing that my fear and internet rabbit holing was a way to fill the void where i used to have a father, i still sat down and made art today. i opened ableton, i worked on choirboy, which is, in a way, a song in reference to my father, and myself, of course. i wonder what he would think if he heard it.

[batsyheere]

Hello..If you don't mind me asking, can I ask, what are your top 7 (or top 10) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series/etc) and your top 10 favorite (fictional) characters from any media? Why do you love them all? Sorry if you've answered this questions before......

Oh, that's a fun question because it's constantly in flux. I get a hyperfixation binge and usually bounce around whatever I like because otherwise I get bored. But there are quite a few I go back to, and I always have a favorite character whether I like the media or not. So.

Top ten media? This is definitely not in order and I might ramble-

Danny Phantom

I come back to this one a little too often because of how the fandom has managed to make it so much more than the show- I love lore and worldbuilding and the way people have built off this show is fascinating to observe.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation // The Untamed

This is another I return to a lot. It's a story of how everything goes wrong, and while there is a villain at the end, ultimately the blame is on the collective characters. It's also neat to see so many adaptations of the original material. I also like to remember that I had no idea this was a novel about guys pining after each other because I was just looking for something interesting to read and it got recommended by a friend. Who said nothing. And then mentioned I was equally as dense as some characters.

Homestuck

This one will always have a place in my heart for being incredibly weird and weirdly influential. Despite the fact I haven't read it again in years, I recall so much about it and enjoy engaging with my fellows- I volunteered at a con once and saw the most gorgeous Karkat cosplayer, we had a nice conversation while I tried to get the system to read their ticket. The community of this fandom is a nice thing, especially since at least once or twice a year we can see who is still in the world.

Percy Jackson

Where most people get into mythology thanks to Rick Riordan, Greek mythology got me into Percy Jackson. Modern day interpretations of myths are so intriguing, even if some interpretations could be argued with. It's also funny that I got my first Percy Jackson book at a summer camp. (It is not a surprise that I now have an EPIC the Musical fixation.)

Lord of the Rings // The Hobbit

I'm a huge classic fantasy nerd and this was a way I bonded with my grandfather over the years before he passed. It's influenced a lot of how I interpret other takes on fantasy and sets such a high bar. I also like that it's an encouragement of hope and faith in the little things of life that make it worth the fight. I wrote a lot of high-school papers on Tolkien.

Batman / DC Comics

While I do love comics, I do have a returning fancy in the Gotham Knights and their allies. Especially since in a world filled with corruption, an unjust system and too many broken pasts, it shows a person can make something of themselves to help others rather than just hurt. And that it is never too late to turn onto a better path. Also, just like LOTR, I wrote a couple of papers on Batman in college.

Star Wars

I grew up on Star Wars. Even with this weird output to the franchise Disney is trying to put out, I feel there are parts of it that are great to come back to. If I had to pick specifics I would mention the Mandalorian, but I favor the era around the prequel trilogy- both before and after.

Critical Role / Dimension 20 / TAZ

If I could just say DND I would but I had to list the top three for me. As I mentioned before I'm a hug fan of worldbuilding and lore. I also really like complex characters who are neither good nor evil, just trying to go about their lives. Found family is also one of my favorite tropes, and these three pull that off effortlessly.

Howl's Moving Castle

Both the book and movie are fantastic, I enjoyed both forms of this story in a way that I only ever enjoyed the vast differences between the How To Train Your Dragon movies and books. I like how it's a good example of adapting a book without being entirely off-putting.

Arcane

Just barely making this list because the second season just came out. But honestly? Arcane is so good. It takes such an artistic approach to its animation and gives vibrancy to its characters you don't typically see outside video games or movies. The story writing and dialogue are excellent- I could rant all day about it.

And now, Top Ten Characters from media...

Shang Qinghua from SVSSS

So many reasons. Top three? Such an unreliable narrator, understandably a sell out and holds a better romance than the technically main character of the novel.

Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

He's on the sidelines of a lot of the main story as a mentor, brother, friend- despite being one of the most tragic characters in the entire timeline.

Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf

My friend dragged me into watching the show because she didn't want to watch alone and he was the most redeeming quality of it. The sarcasm, the wit, the untapped potential.

Dick Grayson // Nightwing from DC Comics

A complex character with an even more complex series of issues in his life that never let him have a moment to breath half the time. He has so much repressed rage it's funny he's considered the happy one.

Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

This one is basically me being way to empathetic with a character and another reason for therapy. He needs a hug.

Aizawa Shouta from My Hero Academia

As weird and "way too much" the fandom can be, Aizawa is worth it. Crazy and a mentor figure.

Taako from The Adventure Zone

Again, love complex characters. I also like convoluted pasts and people with intimacy issues who are also huge flirts.

Fai Fluorite from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles

This poor guy was my first "wow what a character" for way too many reasons to list. Probably the crippled sense of self worth.

Ruby Rose from RWBY

She has such a good character set up and had such a strong sense of self. That plot did NOT help, but she's coming out stronger for it.

Yor Forger from Spy X Family

This one is purely because I love pure of heart dumbasses with too much badass and not enough sense.

As much as I like certain pieces of media a lot it's not a guarantee that I like the characters, and vice versa. Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble! This is what is currently on my mind when it comes to immediate favorites, though I definitely love far too many pieces of media- a lot of anime, and a lot of fantasy.

[eulchu]

I came to this fandom after dsmp ended, i have only a vague idea of what the c!dnf story was, could you do a brief summary of it? if it's not too much effort, and if you happen to remember the timeline and how it parallels real life? thanks 🙂

so basically towards the begining it was c!dteam having fun, until c!tommy joined the server and started griefing and killing george repeatedly for fun (both were against the server rules) so that made c!dream really mad and he started messing with c!tommy back. c!george and c!sap joined him and a rivalry was born.

fast forward some betrayals and a war, c!dream pronounces c!george king of the server, and promises loyalty to him. it's epic and awesome fast forward some time rumors stirr that there's a riot waiting to happen to dethrone c!george. that makes c!dream paranoid and he dethrones him first, which feels like the absolute betrayal for c!george, who had been promised only good and big things. shit hits the fan shortly after and c!dream loses his mind HEAVILY whilst c!george finds a deeper alliance in the fiances.

c!dream gets locked up for being insane and c!george tries to get him out by mining the obsidian with his fists. you'd imagine he doesn't get very far. after that c!dream is in prison while c!george is off to sleep all the time to the point where he can't differenciate between awakeland and being asleep. he sees a man who looks like dream in those dreams, which turns out to be the god of the server, dreamxd. he befriends him because he reminds him of dream and also does things for him. it's unclear why xd fixates on c!george the way he does - maybe because he likes to fuck with c!dream (there's a whole story arc there). probably because his favorite kind of people were the ones who suffered awful nightmares, and c!george had a lot of those.

that situation kind of stays like that until the end of the server. c!dream stays crazy, people using c!george against him because it's the only thing that gets through him, and c!george stays sad and in dreamland, plagued by weird dreams and nightmares about c!dream betraying him and pandora.

- in terms of their story resembling real life, id say a lot of it comes from the xd narrative. dream creates that character during a george stream because everyone was in the server and his character was canonically in prison, so he creates xd to be able to play with them. most of it though, comes from george. it's george who makes his character look for c!dream everywhere without quite reaching him. it's c!george who always wakes up with a gasp before he can really turn his dream from a nightmare to something nice. it's c!george who always looks at the prison from afar and who never dares visit c!dream because "i was told you didn't want me to see you", but really, he was just scared that he couldn't take dream back with him.

there's a dream that c!george has, one of the only nice ones he ever had, where c!dream shows up on top of the prime path, and they're running towards each other, saying how much they've missed each other. and then c!george wakes up.

c!dnf (dnfxd) was a lot of dream twisting the server's narrative so that he could spend irl time with george during lore (even when they were already spending 24/7 together), and a lot of george making one of his character's traits long for c!dream to the point where he went fucking ballistic and destroyed the entire server because c!dream chose someone else over him (which, quite frankly... that's just cc!george)

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Sleeper Sled

On the tenth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy sledding fic where Jake is grumpy!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Dashing Through the Snow" by A Very Convoluted History of Versions and Singers

Trope: Sledding

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Some suggestive implications, language

Words: 2k

Author's Note: I'm not quite done with the Sammy fic that was supposed to go out today, so I had to switch up the pattern. Hope you don't mind! Besides, that also means we'll be finishing off Tropemas with 2 very smutty rhythm section fics ;)

~~~

Jake had been grumpy when you woke him up before noon. It’s not like you could blame him — you knew intimately how late he stayed up. But you had plans for the day, and when you were finally able to bribe him with a hot coffee and food on the way to where you were taking him, he finally dragged himself out of bed, demanding a kiss, as well.

“Where are we even going?” He mumbled once you pulled away, resistant to his attempts to deepen the kiss and get you back in bed.

You patted his hip and went back to searching for Jake’s good winter gloves in the box of miscellaneous hats, scarves, gloves, and mittens. “A date,” you said. 

“I could plan a perfectly good date right here, though,” came Jake’s reply from the bathroom. “And then we wouldn’t have to trek through the snow.”

The sink started to run, so you didn’t bother responding. You knew that Jake’s idea of a date at home would be him offering to teach you how to make a dish, eventually kicking you out of the kitchen because the only people he really liked cooking with are his mom and dad, and then watching a movie until you either passed out, got bored, or started fucking.

So, no. You would not be staying here. And besides, trekking through the snow was part of the date, something that Jake soon found out as soon as he saw the “Joy’s Old Sleddin’ Hill” sign sitting atop the gate you passed under to pull into the freshly-salted parking lot.

“Sledding?” Jake questioned, doubt tinging his tone. “Have you ever been snowboarding? It’s much more fun.”

You fixed your boyfriend with an unamused glare. He wasn’t usually such a spoil-sport, but you knew he’d been up in the music room all night, hyper-fixated on a new riff that he just had to get before he got to bed. You’d had this date planned for a couple of weeks now, though, and he’d known about it even if you’d kept the location a secret. Because of that, you had very little sympathy for his late-night habits.

“Yes. With your family last year, remember? When you took me out because you and Sam wouldn’t stop fucking around on the beginner’s slope?”

Jake tried to stop the smile from reaching his lips, but you saw the small smirk take over eventually and shook your head good-naturedly. “Oh yeah,” he coughed, covering up his amusement poorly. “Alrighty. Well, if we’re gonna do it, then, let’s do it.”

Despite the less-than-enthusiastic send-off, Jake reached for your hand when you met up behind the car to walk to the sled rental but before you took off, hooked his newly-gloved finger into your scarf so that he could pull it down and kiss your cheek.

“Trying to suck up to me now, Kiszka?” you teased, readjusting your scarf before leaning into your boyfriend. He must have felt bad for being a sourpuss, but you hadn’t let it affect your mood because you knew he’d come around. And again, he wasn’t always like this – you were willing to give him a break every so often when he let his creative genius take over.

“I would never,” he denied, but you saw the smile. “Why would I when I’m still getting cold and wet on a Sunday when we could have been warm and wet in–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you gasped, pasting your wool-covered palm over his mouth, “there are children around!” It didn’t stop him, because you could feel his breath seep into your mitten as he mumbled incoherently into your hand, so you just kept it there as you walked until he quieted again. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

Perhaps it was a warning and a threat to you, but Jake just smiled mischievously and sighed, “If that’s how I’m gonna get out of climbing up this God forsaken hill, I’ll give a dramatic rendition of last night.”

You scoffed and glanced over at him, approaching the sled rental, finally. “What– before or after you left me on the bed to go and chase your little guitar chords?”

That certainly got Jake’s attention, and he narrowed his eyes before leaning in. He didn’t really want to get kicked out, after all. “I left you exhausted, don’t pretend like I didn’t take care of you first,” he said, the complaint ripe in his words.

You smiled as you shelled out for the best sleds the little shack had and thought about disagreeing just to see where it got you but, eventually, decided that you didn’t actually want to ruin Jake’s day. “You did,” you conceded, giving up the fight - and he had, you just much preferred to cuddle with him after he rocked your shit than with his pillow as he returned to his one true love. You weren't made by Gibson, after all.

You gave Jake his sled as you made for the hill, and he harrumphed behind you, but followed. Even trudging up the hill, you didn’t talk much, too busy trying not to look as out of shape as you both were. But, heavy breathing and all, Jake began to get a tad bit more pep in his step the further toward the top you got.

As much as he grouched about getting up early and being cold and wet, he was a Michigan boy at heart, and you knew he missed the plethora of slopes around every corner. He never passed up a chance to grab his old snowboard from his parent’s garage when you visited, and he’d disappear with Josh for hours once he knew you were comfortable and had something to do (as if his family ever ran out of things to do).

Sledding wasn’t that much different.

Someone flew past you on their way down, and Jake watched as the snow sprayed up behind them. “Damn…” he muttered, taking another look at his board. “Are you sure we don’t need to go back down and rent some goggles and a couple of helmets?”

“I knew you’d come around,” you said smugly, finally approaching the end of the line of people waiting to be placed and given the green light by the workers. “You can’t stay away from extreme snow sports.”

Jake furrowed his brows. “Since when has sledding been an extreme sport?” he scoffed, still keeping up the fake attitude, even though you could see him bouncing on his heels.

As the line gradually shortened with each person that quickly picked up speed on the steep hill, you and Jake kept up the banter, but it quickly turned competitive when your boards were placed on the snow.

“So what do I get if I win?” Jake asked, a suggestive tone that only you could pick up on lacing his words.

Waiting for the workers to nod that you were good to push off, you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Anything you want,” you told him, sickly sweet. “But you won’t win, so it’ll actually be what I’ll get when I win.”

Jake’s eyes turned up in a smile you couldn’t see because of his adjusted scarf, but you heard him reply, “Anything you want,” just before the worker told you you could go.

As fast as you could, you dug your boots into the snow and pushed yourself down the hill like a little, snow-dwelling frog. Jake was still hanging out in your peripheral, right next to you, and you began to think there might be some merit to his words about goggles, with the spray that occurred as the hill dropped to be steeper and your sled skidded across pillowy white drifts that felt like icy needles on your face.

Perhaps it was because you had to close your eyes against the elements, or maybe your focus shifted as you felt like you’d fly right off the course and into the parking lot, but you didn’t notice Jake converging in on you until his muffled voice was inches away and he was reaching out a hand to stop the collision.

“Jake!” you squealed, trying to muscle him away from you. But with his efforts clashing with yours, you only succeeded in swinging him out in front of you, so that he was going down the hill backwards and you were the only one who saw the absolute trainwreck of a stop that was evolving. 

The huge snowdrift at the bottom of the hill acted as a stopper, and if a rider hadn’t lost enough momentum by the time they reached it, they’d either continue to sled up and then succumb to gravity, or they would shoot forward into the snow if the sled got caught before it went up.

With your combined weight, either way was gonna hurt.

The sleds slowed as the incline leveled out, but it wasn’t enough, and as soon as you hit the snowdrift, Jake tumbled off abruptly as the nose of the sled caught a compressed lip of ice from where it had been compacted by many sledders before you. And although his hands were ripped from yours, you still followed, giggling all the way.

“That was a softer landing than I had imagined,” you cackled breathlessly, taking deep breaths against the puffy material of Jake’s coat. His arm encircled your waist, and with a quick shake of his head, he dislodged the scarf from where it had been wrapped around his nose and lips.

“Soft because you landed on me,” he accused with a little laugh, digging his fingers into the layers that hid you.

Not wanting to be run over by other sledders, you got up off of him and held out your hand, which Jake took gratefully. “What do you mean? You’re all hard man muscle,” you drawled jokingly. “I was lucky you were wearing that big ol’ coat, or I probably would’ve broken something.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jake snorted, grabbing the stings of both sleds and hauling them out of the way.

He was quiet as you made your way back to the path leading up to the top of the hill, and you gently caught his elbow. “Sorry I crushed you there,” you apologized, not really thinking he was mad at you, but to hear his voice again. You knew he likely just didn’t have anything to say, but having woke up on the wrong side of the bed, you wanted to make sure he was actually having a good time and wasn’t just putting on a brave face for you. “We can go a few more times and then blow this popsicle stand if it traumatized you too much.”

Jake glanced at you, brows raised as he took in your offering. You knew the second the lightbulb went off because he scooted off to the side of the trail and looped the sled strings around his arm so that they wouldn’t slide away back down the hill, and then grabbed your hand. “Hey, I’m having fun,” he claimed, genuine happiness softening his features in a way that made you relax for the time being.

“I know!” you assured, maybe a little too quickly, as anything less would make you feel foolish for doubting Jake’s emotional state. Jake picked up on that and made sure you were holding his gaze before he ran a cold, slightly damp finger down your nose in an affectionate gesture.

He put on his best sweet voice, sleepy and a little raspy just the way you loved. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to plan this,” he said sincerely as tendrils of winter began to settle between the gaps of your layers now that you weren’t actively struggling up a steep hill and getting your body warm with exertion. “I appreciate you putting up with me more than you know.”

Sufficiently reassured that Jake was happy, you took your sled from his arm. “I don’t put up with you. I love you just the way you are,” you said mischievously. “Even when you wake up grumpy and leave me without cuddles after blowing my back out.”

You took off up the hill, leaving Jake with a shocked expression that quickly turned offended. “I did not! And what happened to ‘there are children around?’”

You laughed as he chased you as quickly as he could with clunky snow boots on. In your opinion, the sledding date was most certainly going to turn out a success.

~~~

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