#like … why did you feel the need to clear up what you perceive to be a misunderstanding

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.

[nanabanonana]

me: just wanna let people know x character isn't a villain

“it's not villainizing, i just think —”

me: literally was not accusing anyone, but if the shoe fits…

[candy69gurl]

Noncon w gojo but reader is resisting the whole time so he ends up tying them down. And he’s not even trying to be nice about it, he’s degrading her and choking her all that stuff 🤭

BREAKPOINT

PAIRING yandere Gojo Satoru x f!reader

WARNING non/con, unhealthy relationship (red flag Gojo), use of vulgar words, manipulation, humiliation, fingering on kitchen counter, bondage (hands only), blowjob, cumming in mouth, raw sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, forcing to say stuffs, clit rubbing, pussy eating, nipple play, choking, degradation, lactation kink, multiple orgasms, oversensitivity, creampie, manhandling, so much yanderee

NOTE twitter link here.. sorry for posting late

Dating Gojo, the incredibly good-looking and powerful guy, isn't as simple as you'd think. He frequently reminds you of your perceived inferiority compared to him, and that he could find someone better.

Every time you're with him, he's makes you feel insecure. He keeps putting you down for your mistakes and flaws, always reminding you of all the things he can do that you can only dream about. He often says mean things about how you look and what you can do, making you feel like you're not good enough for him. Even though he's rude and acts like he doesn't care, Gojo still wants you around, making sure you know he's more important in your life.

He's always flirting with other people, which makes it clear he doesn't respect you. When he's with his friends, he completely ignores you, leaving you feeling invisible and unimportant. Your feelings never seem to be a priority for him. It's clear he's more focused on other things, yet he still wants you to stay. You're beginning to realize this relationship isn't healthy for you, but you still crave his approval and validation, hoping he'll see you as worthy.

Your best friend advises, 'You should leave him, girl.'"

"But I love him," you counter.

"But does he love you?"

You stay quiet. Gojo's words may say one thing, but his actions speak differently. Your best friend is right; you realize you need to do something about it. So you send him a text asking to meet at your place, you need to talk to him over this.

Satoru arrives at your house, his long legs carrying him up to the door with an air of confidence. Knowing he's the strongest sorcerer in the world makes him feel untouchable. As he knocks on the door, a thrill of excitement courses through him, anticipating what awaits inside. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as you open the door, and he smirks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He takes off his dark blue jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he speaks in a low voice, ... "Been missing my dick, huh?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, glaring at him. He smirks, stepping closer to you, his body heat enveloping you as he looms over you.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Satoru repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raises an eyebrow, letting the question hang between them, challenging you to elaborate. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he crosses his arms, sitting on your couch and regarding you with a cocky grin.

"So, why the fuck did you call me if you're gonna give me this attitude? " he asks, feigning ignorance. His eyes gleam mischievously, daring you to confront him about your issues head-on.

You stand there, silent for a moment, searching for the words to express your frustration. Before you can say anything, Satoru turns away, sauntering towards your kitchen like he owns the place. He opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a satisfying sound. Your heart pounds in your chest, your frustration mounting as he drinks it so casually.

As he turns back to you, he raises an eyebrow, the unopened beer in his hand. "You gonna talk, or are you just gonna stand there?" he asks.

"This...this relationship isn't working," you finally manage to utter, your voice wavering slightly. Satoru freezes mid-drink, the beer halfway to his lips. The surprise in his eyes fades quickly, replaced with a cold, hard stare. He sets the beer down on the counter, taking a step towards you.

"Break up?" He repeats, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. "You think you can just toss me aside like an old toy?" He growls, his eyes burning with anger. The force of his personality filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Satoru leans in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning with a fire that matched his temper.

"You better think twice about this, princess," He snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Once you break things off with me, you'll be all alone. No one is going to love you."

"I'm sure," you say firmly, standing your ground despite the fear in your chest. Satoru's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. He steps back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"Did you find someone better than me?" He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief and accusation. The air around you thickens, the tension palpable. Satoru crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt. "Tell me... Is his dick bigger than mine?"

You shake your head, your voice trembling as you reply, "No, I just..." Satoru cuts you off, gripping your wrist harshly and pulling you towards the counter. You gasp in surprise, trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong.

He pushes you down on the counter, his dick pressing against your ass, the intensity of the contact leaving you breathless. His eyes bore into yours, the challenge in them undeniable. "Does he fuck you better than me?" he growls, his lips grazing your ear.

You struggle against him, your heart racing as you beg him to let you go. "Please, Satoru...let me go!" You plead, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. Satoru chuckles, his grip tightening around your wrist.

"Not until you realise, what a huge mistake you did by making me mad." he growls, grinding his erection against your ass harder. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy him.

Satoru pulls down your pants, revealing your ass. He smacks it hard, the sting of his hand making you yelp in shock. Before you can react, he slides his long, cold fingers inside you, groaning softly at the wetness he finds. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he mocks you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, well, looks like someone wants more of my cock even after saying she wants a break." He chuckles, twisting his fingers inside you roughly. His eyes are full of malicious.

You can't help but moan in spite of yourself, your body betraying your intentions. Your mind screams at you to fight back, but your body responds to his touch, betraying your resolve. Satoru's grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Looks like you can't resist me, princess," he taunts, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. "Maybe you don't want a break, maybe you just want me to praise you while I go down on you."

Satoru grips your head tighter against the counter, his fingers thrusting into you relentlessly. Your body buckles under the onslaught, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You moan loudly, unable to hold back your pleasure.

Within moments, you're screaming his name, your body convulsing as you cum hard. Satoru watches you with a satisfied smirk, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. He continues to thrust into you, milking every last drop of your pleasure.

Satoru carries you mercilessly to your bedroom, leaving you with no time to rest. He quickly sets you down on the bed and his hands rich to unzip his pants. Desperate to get away, you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankle and uses his weight to pin you down. With a flick of his wrist, he removes his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. Your heart races, fear and desire warring within you as he takes his blindfold and ties your hands above your head, effectively immobilizing you.

"Please, stop!" you plead, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to release you. "I'm sorry, I take back everything I said! I don't want this!" Your words hang in the air, heavy with regret and fear.

Satoru leans down, his gaze hard and unwavering. "The only sorry I accept is by your mouth showing me how sorry it is by sucking me off." He growls, his finger tracing the shape of your lips. Your heart races and your body trembles at the command.

He pulls himself in front of your head, and you hesitate, your heart racing in your chest. The room spins around you, and the scent of him overwhelms you. You understand you have no choice but to obey, swallow your pride, and submit.

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his shaft and reluctantly start sucking him off. Satoru growls in approval, his hand entwined in your hair, guiding you. Your mind screams at you to resist, but your body obeys him, your mouth moving rhythmically, pleasing him.

As you continue to suck him off, Satoru's grip in your hair tightens. His movements become more erratic, his breaths growing heavier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're determined to make this quick, hoping he'll release you soon.

You rest your head, waiting for him to untie you. But instead, he parts your legs, grinning wickedly as he rubs his cock against your clit. You flinch, but he doesn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he pushes into you, stretching you painfully. A cry escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. You beg him, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, be gentle..."

Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Well, well, I thought you'd be fucking other guys, but you're still tight as hell." He says, thrusting harder into you. "Feels so fucking good." His voice is thick with lust, his movements becoming more aggressive.

Your body tenses, your mind spinning in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. You're angry, yet you can't deny the pleasure he brings you. His words fill you with shame, your skin burning with embarrassment. Despite your struggles, his grip on you is ironclad. You moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure washing over you as he continues to thrust into you. Your mind screams for him to stop, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch.

Every thrust is a reminder of your weakness, your inability to resist him. You can't help but wonder who else he's been with, who else has shared in this intimacy. A wave of jealousy washes over you, your heart beating wildly.

"Fuck, you're gushing," he growls, his hips thrusting into you with increasing intensity. He reaches down, pushing your top along with bra up, his fingers roughly pinching your nipple, twisting it. Your eyes widen, a gasp escaping your lips. "Yet you say you don't want it?" He grunts, his voice thick with dominance.

You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. His words echo in your mind, reminding you of your place. Despite your struggling, your body responds to his touch, your clit throbbing with each thrust.

Gojo mocks you, his voice dripping with venom. "What's that, are you enjoying it, slut?" He asks, his movements becoming more frenzied. "You think you can find someone better than me? Someone who fucks you better than me?"

His words cut deep, your heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. He laughs, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Look at you, begging for my cock, you worthless slut." Gojo sneers, his movements growing rougher. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world, and you think you can insult me? Ha!" He laughs, his eyes shining with malicious delight. "Listen up", he slows down his thrust making sure you listen to him instead of moaning, "Don't you dare bring that break up again, I own you, I own this pussy, I own your fucking heart, I know it, you love my baby and I love you too.. So let's.. let's be like before, me and you, together.. We can have a baby too, our own family .. so beautiful.", with that he starts pumping into you again hard and fast, desperate to fill you with his fertile seed.

Your cheeks burn with shame, your toes curling as his thrusts grow stronger and rougher, and just before you hit your orgasm, he pulls out, "That's what you get for disobeying me."

You gasp, your pussy gripping on to him as he pulls out. "That's what you get for disobeying me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, your orgasm cut short.

He stands over you, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on your face. You shrink under his gaze not daring to question him why he stopped, you know everything is your fault. NO, he made you believe everything is your fault, but you cannot help but accept it, you cannot help but accept his cock inside you.

Gojo leans down, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Look at you, clenching around nothing, desperate for my cock." He mocks, his hands gripping your thighs. "Worthless slut."

He licks your clit, a cruel smirk on his face. You whimper, your body trembling with need. His tongue teases your clit, your moans growing louder. He chuckles, enjoying your helplessness.

Gojo's hand glides over your body, his touch electric. "Do you want me to finish you off?" His voice is a combination of cruelty and seduction.

Your heart races, your body trembling with need. You nod, unable to speak, your mind filled with a mix of shame and lust. He grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Gojo raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked on your face. "Beg for it, slut." He demands, his voice thick with lust.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt. "Beg," he repeats, his voice cold.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, "please, make me cum..." You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Gojo's eyes squint, "Hmm, how about you say you love me 69 times then I will think of it."

Your eyes widen, your heart racing with a mix of anger and desperation. You know you have to do it. "I love you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." Your voice grows stronger as you continue, each 'I love you' more genuine than the last.

Gojo watches you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leans down, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of your clit. "Keep going.." He orders, his voice rough with desire

You nod, your face heating up with desire and shame. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's tongue traces your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body trembling with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He slips two fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Keep going..."

Your heart races, your body trembling, "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's fingers slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body shaking with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes.. yes" He encourages, his voice rough with desire.

You continue to profess your love, your body trembling with a mix of desire and shame.

After what feels like an eternity, Gojo slides his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue. You whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

He licks your clit, his tongue tracing the curve of your most sensitive spot. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with lust. "Sixty-nine times, I counted each 'I love you.'" He chuckles, his eyes locked on your face. "That's a lot of love for me, baby," he teases, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let's make you cum."

His tongue traces the your walls, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes locked on your face for your reaction. "You taste so good, so wet and needy."

Your abdomen shaking as you move your hips against his face, you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as you cum. You collapse there, your heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and shame.

"Untie me now," you plead, your voice shaking with emotion. But Gojo shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Nah uh, not till I cum, filling your little pussy."

He inserts himself back inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your pussy is oversensitive, making you cry out in pain. "No more," you beg, your voice filled with desperation.

Gojo grits his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls clenching around him uncontrollably. He slows his pace, allowing you time to adjust to your oversensitivity.

As you recover, he starts thrusting into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first. His pace gradually increases, his eyes locked on your face. "You like being a slut for your boyfriend, isn't it?" He growls, his voice thick with lust.

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self respect anymore.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become faster, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you?"

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self-respect anymore. "I'm your little slut."

Gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hmphh, keep squeezing me.. A-ah," he growls, his pace increasing even more.

Your eyes roll at the way he's choking and fucking you like a monster, his hands around your neck, his thrusts relentless. Gojo leans down, his lips colliding with yours in a rough kiss.

You moan into his mouth, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hah! You gonna cum again?," he mocks.

You groan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. "Yes.. Hngh- please I am gonna cum again" You admit, your voice shaking with emotion.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become frenzied. "Y/N, let's... try it again.. together... Can't you imagine? How lovely you will look with your tummy swollen and round with my baby, and milk flowing from your breasts. Just think of it", he bites his lips imaging all of that. He unties your hands, letting them grip onto anything they find.

Your mind is unable to make out his words, you just nod, taking his cock like a doll.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucks on your nipple. "Gonna fill you, hmmph," whimpers escape his lips, "You are so obedient for me baby."

As Gojo nears his climax, his thrusts become frantic, his movements fierce. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.

His thrusts become stronger, his movements more intense. Your walls clench around him, milking him as you cum again. He roars, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes, cum for me, baby, cum for your strongest boyfriend," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He fills you with his seed, his movements slowing as he finishes. "You did well, baby," he pants, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe.

You collapse against him, your heart racing with a mix of pleasure and fear. "F' me, am your little.. slut.. ." You whisper, before passing out .

Gojo's lips caress your bruised neck, licking them before giving you a small peck on your lips. "I love you, Y/N, I appreciate you," he mutters, his voice thick with lust. "But I ain't gonna spoil you."

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from the passionate night.

In the darkness of the night, he whispers in your ear, "Never gonna let you escape me, my little play thing."

[flwrkid14]

Sleeping beauty!Tim au but make it angsty

Red Robin gets hit with a spell that makes him sleep and no one is able to wake him up. The wizard villain of the week disappeared after hitting Tim with it and only by the grace of God and Red Hood's speed was he caught before he tumbled off the damn roof.

The batfam think it'll be an easy fix, Bruce gets Zatanna to show up... Except...

Bruce: Why did it not work?

Zatanna: it's one of those fickle sleep spells that can only be broken by true love's kiss. Luckily, it doesn't have to be a romantic kiss or one on the lips, as long as it's from someone who truly loves Red Robin.

Bruce: So why is he not awake?

Zatanna: The fickle thing about this particular spell is that for it to break, Red Robin has to believe that the person who kissed him truly loves him.

Cue all the angst and heartbreak and self reflection as the batfam realize, after each of them tries to wake Tim, that their brother genuinely thinks they don't love him.

Eventually it's Kon who manages to wake Tim up with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

In the aftermath, Tim doesn't know how to deal with the way the batfam are looking at him like he broke their hearts or the way Bruce looks uncomfortably on the verge of tears.

Thank you so much for the ask!!—this is such a deliciously angsty concept, and I can’t get over how much it says about the Batfamily and their emotional blind spots.

It’s so painfully them, isn’t it? The Batfamily, who love so fiercely but are absolutely terrible at showing it in ways that matter. They’re all so busy with their missions, their duty, their endless fight to keep Gotham and each other safe, that they don’t stop to think about how their love is perceived. They assume it’s obvious in the way they watch each other’s backs or show up when it counts. But Tim? Tim’s spent so long in the shadows, convincing himself he’s just a cog in the machine, that he doesn’t see any of that as love.

And now they’re standing there, one by one, trying and failing to wake him up. It’s not just frustrating—it’s devastating. Because the truth they’ve all been avoiding is staring them in the face: Tim doesn’t believe they love him. And maybe, deep down, they know why. Every harsh word, every time they brushed him off because there was a bigger crisis, every moment they assumed Tim was fine because he didn’t say otherwise—it’s all coming back to haunt them now.

Jason probably storms off first, pretending it doesn’t bother him, but the guilt is eating him alive. Dick, who prides himself on being the emotional glue of the family, is visibly shaken—because how could he miss this? How could he fail Tim like this? And Bruce, oh, Bruce—he’s silent, but you can see the way his hands tremble, the way his jaw tightens. He’s spent years thinking his actions spoke louder than words, and now he’s realizing he might’ve been wrong.

And when Kon finally wakes Tim up? It’s not just a relief—it’s a wake-up call. Kon, who loves Tim so plainly and without hesitation, didn’t have to fight through layers of doubt or miscommunication. His love was clear, and Tim believed it without question. The Batfamily can’t say the same, and it hurts.

But what really gets me is the aftermath. Tim, sitting there, bewildered and uncomfortable as the Batfamily stares at him with those shattered, guilty expressions. To him, it doesn’t make sense—he’s fine, the mission’s done, so why are they acting like he’s the one who needs fixing? And when Bruce finally asks, voice quiet and cracking, “Why didn’t you believe us?” Tim doesn’t know how to answer. Because in his mind, it wasn’t a question of love—it was a question of worth.

It’s such a raw, painful exploration of the Batfamily’s dynamic. They love each other deeply, but they’re so bad at saying it, at showing it in ways that the other person can feel. And Tim? Tim’s just been waiting, quietly, for proof he didn’t think would ever come.

This is such a beautifully tragic setup, and I love how it forces them all to face what they’ve been avoiding. If you—or anyone—writes this, I would absolutely love to read it!! The emotional fallout alone would be worth its weight in tears!

[aquaquadrant]

What I'd give to know what Jimmy said to Timmy during that conversation to reassure him

this is a very old ask and referring to part x of from eden, when jimmy and tango first met timmy. while tango was chewing bravo out, the bird boys were off in a huddle. this is that huddle.

~*~

“bravo! did you- oh.” timmy breaks off mid-sentence, every other thought flying clear out of his mind as he stares at his counterpart.

there’s no one else it could possibly be. timmy knows this instinctively, as instinctively as he first knew his own name was timmy despite the username ‘animositygaming’ glaring up at him from his communicator. as instinctively as he first knew that being called ‘jimmy’ by others as a joke felt wrong for reasons he couldn’t articulate- until now.

“oh,” he breathes, his voice small even to his own ears. “i see… you must be jimmy.”

“and you’re timmy,” his counterpart says softly, in a voice ten times stronger and richer than timmy’s despite the identical cadence, “aren’t you? gosh…”

(they’re finally meeting!)

(it’s about time.)

(a tale of two jimmys!)

the old voices in timmy’s head have been far more active lately than they were over the last several years. they’d visit from time to time, typically only whenever something interesting happened to him at spawn. of course, ‘interesting’ tended to mean ‘unfortunate for his personal wellbeing.’ the voices added insult to injury whenever a spawn camper or wandering ruffian decided to take out their anger on him, finding a nasty sort of satisfaction in his pain.

but he never paid much attention to the voices, because they’d only ever tell him things he already knew: he’s weak, he’s pathetic, and he deserves every awful thing that’s ever happened to him.

since reuniting with bravo, there’s been a surge of activity from the voices. they seem to take particular interest in bravo, all the things he says and does, reacting with amusement or excitement. every hard-won battle against the mercenaries hunting them, every new development with his redstone portal, every tense engagement with mr. instinct- it’s almost entertaining to them, timmy thinks.

and they love to tell timmy that bravo doesn’t really care about him, that timmy is just a novelty that bravo will grow tired of, that he’s not good enough to be worth all this effort.

“timmy!” bravo hisses, panic and guilt written across his face. “i told you to wait for me to come get you!”

as if timmy needed the voices to tell him that.

his counterpart, jimmy, is better in every imaginable way. he stands several inches taller than timmy- not due to an actual height difference, but because of his posture. he’s more confident, less closed-off; his back straight and his broad shoulders set back. and they are broad; his frame is filled and muscular, no hollows in his cheeks, no sharp angles to his bones. healthy tanned skin perfectly complements his golden hair and deep brown eyes, with no dark circles to speak of. there are however some fresh cuts and bruises that must’ve been bravo’s doing (he’s a good fighter, not like timmy) but jimmy’s only perceivable flaw is the scar across his crooked nose- which, in timmy’s opinion, just makes him look rugged.

his hair is short, timmy realizes. not as short as his own after bravo took a pair of shears to it, but much shorter than the unkempt state timmy previously let his fall into. and with that, it all falls into place.

“sorry,” timmy murmurs, “i was just… gosh, i- everythin’ makes sense now…” he turns to bravo, apologetic and understanding. “i… get why i wasn’t good enough.”

he’d wondered why bravo even bothered bringing him from spawn, why he’d put up with his uselessness all this time just to be disappointed- beyond the usual kind, that is. there was some sort of hidden expectation that timmy just couldn’t meet, and now he knows why.

(and the truth comes out!)

(see, we tried to warn you…)

(how does it feel, knowing you were just a second-rate replacement?)

bravo cringes. “no, no i- i didn’t mean-”

“ey, c’mere mate,” jimmy interrupts, crossing the distance to timmy in just a couple strides. “it’s alright. ignore him a second, hey?”

jimmy fans a wing out to block them from the others, a curtain of sorts, and timmy can’t help but admire it. the feathers are all full and smooth at the edges, rippling with a golden sheen that catches every stray bit of torchlight. they look like they’d be soft to the touch. unconsciously, timmy tucks his own raggedy wings even closer to his body.

“you alright?” jimmy asks, quieter now. “i- i gotta say, this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?”

that might be an attempt at shared humor. timmy chances a look up at him, shoulders hitched by his ears. “so, we’re… counterparts?” he ventures hesitantly. that’s one of the words bravo’s used to describe tango- that and doppelgänger, clone, and some others he’d rather not think about.

“seems that way.” jimmy exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i- i’m so sorry you’ve been trapped in this horrible place, i only just found out about counterparts but i swear, i was gonna come for you. it’s just- there was a lot goin’ on, and we had to work out the portal thing…” he winces. “i’m sorry, that- that sounds lame.”

“it’s alright,” timmy whispers, tilting his head. strange, that jimmy seems to have placed that responsibility on himself. “not… your fault.”

“what happened to you?” jimmy asks, voice filled with sorrow and eyes shining with empathy. “i mean, how- how’d you get like this?”

(emaciated and disgusting, you mean?)

(even more pathetic than you!)

timmy wrings his hands, suddenly feeling a rush of shame at his haggard appearance. “hels is… too dangerous, for people like me. i learned spawn is safer, even if… there isn’t any food.” he glances over his shoulder and past jimmy’s wing, where bravo and tango are speaking in hushed voices on the other side of the cave. “that’s where bravo found me.”

here jimmy pauses. his eyes dart about in a very particular way; scanning timmy intently while simultaneously trying to not look like it. “does he treat you alright?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

“he… treats me as good as he’s able,” timmy answers with a sad smile, stretching out a wing to glance at the shorn flight feathers he knows jimmy’s already noticed. “he was tryin’ to help, honest.”

(busted!)

something dark flashes in jimmy’s eyes, making timmy’s heart jolt- to think someone could get so upset on his behalf! “oh, don’t you worry, we’ll get that all sorted,” jimmy says firmly, before quickly softening again. “but for now, can i just say… i’m so glad i got to meet you.”

timmy blinks. “… what?”

jimmy spreads his hands, shoulders bowing forward as his wings draw in. “i dunno how this whole thing works, if you’re actually a part of me or not- or i a part of you, y’know, it- it goes both ways. but i just think…” he smiles then, and it’s kind and warm and a little bit blinding, just like the fabled sun, and says, “gosh, how special it is… to meet someone like me.”

(well, that’s certainly… a take.)

(aw, they’re kind of sweet… in a pathetic way.)

(birds of a feather, these two.)

despite himself, timmy feels his own smile- a real, genuine smile- spread across his face. “yeah, same here.”

jimmy brightens at that, reaching out to put a hand on timmy’s shoulder. the movement is careful and gentle, so unlike what timmy’s used to, and he thinks he’d be content to stay like this forever even if the mere weight of jimmy’s hand is starting to drag him off balance.

“we’ll look after ya, mate,” jimmy says, “i promise. now, let’s set a few things straight with bravo, shall we?”

“alright,” timmy replies softly.

(wow, never thought there could be a player worse than jimmy at practically everything.)

(it’s a low bar, but you’ll still never be able to reach it, overworld or no.)

(you’re not worth it.)

jimmy’s hand tightens on timmy’s shoulder, almost as if he can hear the voices, too. but timmy pays them no mind.

it’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

~*~

[unsolicited-opinions]

Truthiness in a Keffiyeh

A conversation in the replies about the Gen Z folks who relentlessly try to cram a complex world into the oppressor/victim framing, regardless of facts, reasoning, history, context, or nuance made me time travel 20 years back.

@bluecityrose writes:

There’s also a sense [which we perceive in the Gen Z anti-Israel leftists] that knowledge of the conflict, its history and nuance, doesn’t matter.  

I’ve had many conversations where people know nothing of the history of Jews and Arabs in the Levant, or how many of those countries were formed, or what Hamas really is, or what Israel is really like, or the role of other countries in the region.

They are surprised by everything I say.  

At some point I ask them - why do you feel comfortable having such strong opinions about a highly complex situation when you know so little about it? Would you make such confident statements about conflicts in other countries you are unfamiliar with?

Agreed! I think their anti-Israel drive has virtually nothing to do with facts, principals, or reasoning. It's serving their emotional needs.

Then @doomhamster put their finger on it:

I agree. I think it's about the...almost fetishization of "emotional truth" and experience. 

Saying you understand what someone else is going through when you don't have their exact mix of identities gets you ripped apart [by other leftists, but] saying you understand a chain of events when you don't know shit about it is just fine though, in most people's eyes, because that's "just" facts. They can be bent and twisted freely to serve what they FEEL is true.

I'm showing my age here, but isn't that Truthiness?

If you weren't alive or watching late night comedy in 2005, let me catch you up:

Truthiness was first introduced by Stephen Colbert on the premiere episode of The Colbert Report on October 17, 2005. Colbert did every episode of this show in character as as a right wing talking head pundit like like Fox News' Bill O'Reilly (who was later replaced by Tucker Carlson). His characer was a satire of right wing punditry. Here's the segment:

Truthiness is the belief in something that feels true in one's gut, regardless of evidence, logic, or facts. 

Facts take a back seat to feelings, vibes, and baseless moral certainty. It's truth because it feels true...regardless of its falsity.

if you look around the media and politics environment today...it seems clear that Truthiness now rules most of the political spectrum.

The right is still awful about this, but now the far left is, too.

The Gen Z leftists (particularly the tankies, but it's all of them) have taken their foreign policy and geopolitical ideologies based on feelings, vibes, and and whatever makes them feel righteous.

Feeling righteous is important because it permits them to vent that righteousness with impunity, with no criticism from their contemporaaries no matter how false, bigotted, or violent it is. Because when you're up against the ultimate evil (the Jews/Israel), all things are permitted. And it feels so good to have a license to hate!

It's not about the real people who are dying, it's about maintaining that sense of righteousness.

They don't need to read a book about the history of the middle east because they saw an infographic on Instagram which appealed to their emotional needs...and all the fandoms they're in agree, so they must be good people!

They don't have to deal with the pressure of needing to know anything because moral clarity is delivered to them, algorithmically optimized for outrage and completely free of any confusing complexity. Real people are dying, but all they care about is feeling righteous.

Truthiness doesn't demand research or reasoning, just retweets/reblogs/reshares.

For fuck's sake, children.

"Love with your heart, use your head for everything else."

-Captain Disillusion

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Where Darkness Cradles the Light [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x Sorcerer!reader

wc: 13.1k

Summary: You land a full-time job at the Watchtower, and over time, you and Bob grow closer. But the shadows of your past soon resurface—and now it’s Bob who must help you find your way back to the light.

masterlist part 1

an: Okay, I took a LOT of creative liberties with this one. I really like the magical thread of the MCU, and I think it meshes nicely with the aura of Thunderbolts*. It's also a bit long, but it's divided into three sections, in case you want a quick read. I hope you like it, leave me a comment with your thoughts!

warnings!!: mentions of death, mental illness, nightmares, depression, guilt, some pretty graphic descriptions (dead bodies and stuff) Ameena is a non-canon character, Nimvath is a non-canon demon.

The watchtower was quiet. The first light of dawn filtered through the training wing's large windows, bathing the floor in warm hues, and Bob sat alone. Whenever he couldn't sleep, he ended up there. It was more serene than staying in his bed, and he often found the answers he needed in the silence of the room.

But that morning, curiously, he was there because he'd woken up feeling like he was in the mood. Not out of obligation, nor as an escape, but because he felt like being at peace. There was light in his gestures. Slowly, he'd learned to breathe without feeling like the world was collapsing with each inhalation. Even his eyes, once filled with storms, were now clear, though they still hid scars.

Everyone was pleased by the obvious improvement, but sometimes the only look he was truly interested in was yours; something he, until now, didn't know what to call. Sometimes it was as if you communicated in a strange telepathic way, when a gesture was enough for both of you to understand the message.

He'd started physical training a few weeks earlier, which his other friends took care of, and you took the opportunity to finally integrate into that dysfunctional work schedule. Valentina thought it was valuable for her team to be prepared for magical threats, and that's why she'd asked you to train with the rest. Your task was to unbalance them until they strengthened their spirits enough. The Ancient One did this frequently; she'd done it with Stephen, and she'd done it with you too, so it wasn't difficult to establish a rhythm.

To tell the truth, you still found it a bit difficult to live with them and adapt to their chaotic way of life. At Kamar-Taj, what made you strong as a community was the synergy produced by the members; each person trained to their full potential and then contributed to a greater cause. However, what you were experiencing was very different.

When you were with them, each person boasted or lacked certain aptitudes or skills, yet they managed to make everything work. You perceived them as a kind of puzzle, where each piece, although different in shape and size, had its place. That's why it was hard for you to adapt; it was too complicated to conceive of the idea that someone could be there for you if you fell. Even thinking that you were allowed to fall in the first place.

“Someone woke up early,” you muttered, as you entered the living room and noticed the man already there.

Your voice brought him out of his trance, and he smiled unconsciously when he saw you approaching. All this time, you were still wrapped in your ritual garments, as if you feared that removing them would evaporate the respect the others felt for you. That day, you wore an outfit in deep purple hues, with silver-threaded edges that seemed to shimmer faintly with every movement.

The fabric fell elegantly over your body, light yet imposing, like an enchanted second skin. The sleeves were full, but suddenly narrowed at the wrists, allowing you to move with precision while casting. Across your middle, a dark leather belt held small compartments where you kept ritual items, crystals, and a sealed amulet. Your Sling Ring was also there.

He'd learned the hard way that your temple slippers were always reinforced with charms for silence and stability. Around your neck, you wore a discreet pendant: a small moonstone, a gift from Wong, which sparkled whenever a dark presence came too close.

Bob thought that, even with all that mystique, there was something soft about your face that morning. He'd even say vulnerable or… fearful.

“I feel good today,” he announced enthusiastically from his position on the floor. “I wanted to come sooner.”

“Well, that means we'll be done soon. Before lunchtime.”

You sank onto the linoleum, stretching your limbs and reaching for your toes. It was a kind of preparation, probably to get your muscles as awake as your mind.

It was already a routine, but Bob noticed something different about you that day. You moved as if every stretch required a tremendous amount of effort, and he even saw you wince in pain a couple of times, accompanied by massages on what appeared to be your ankles. He thought it would eventually go away, but it didn't.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't recall you hurting yourself before, but judging by your expression and the heavy, frustrated energy you were emanating, he had to ask. Maybe you'd just slept badly.

“I'm fine. I just felt a muscle strain.”

He didn't believe you, but he nodded gently.

Another thing he'd learned was to pay attention to others, because of situations like these. Previously, he'd been locked away in his self-indulgence most of the time and had a hard time interpreting other people's feelings or noticing when something bad was happening, but he'd made the decision to show interest in his loved ones and reciprocate their affection; it meant working on that aspect.

You didn't say anything else, and he assumed you weren't in the mood to talk about it. Training went as smoothly as expected, and when it was over, he took the opportunity to approach you and talk. You must have noticed his obvious nervousness, since this time you were the one who asked him if something was wrong.

“I wanted to talk to you about something. I… huh, I want to start a treatment,” he said suddenly, playing with his fingers.

"Treatment?"

“Psychiatric,” he clarified, “Something to complement this.”

He was referring, of course, to his spiritual breakthroughs. Controlling his energy, breathing techniques, meditation, connecting with his core—all of it had helped him stay grounded. But there were still nights—though less frequent—when The Void whispered from the darkest corner of his mind. It spoke of fear, of ruin, of inevitable destruction. And Bob no longer wanted to give it any space.

“I've been thinking about it these past few weeks. I know he won't like it, but… I'm tired of him dictating what I can and can't do. I tried to do it years ago, but it didn't end well, I think now would be a good time because you're all here to support me, and if something happens, it would be easier to regulate myself. Well, that's what I think.”

Your eyes looked at him with a mixture of surprise and respect. You didn't interrupt him. You remained silent for several seconds, only nodding slightly. You knew how difficult this step was; you'd seen him resist before, justifying his connection to The Void as inevitable, as a curse beyond redemption.

“That’s brave of you,” you replied, finally.

“I don't know if I'm brave. I just know I want to keep moving forward. I want… I want to have a life.”

The last sentence hung in the air, as if he didn't quite know what it meant yet, but desperately wanted it. You understood. Because, even though he never said what he was building with you, you knew that this search for balance wasn't just for him. It was for you too.

“Then don’t be afraid. I’ll be here no matter what, okay?”

Bob smiled a little shyly, but also with relief. The hug he gave you took you by surprise, but you happily responded. The touch was gentle and comforting.

“Thank you for saying that. You're a great friend. Love you.”

You stood still for a few seconds longer than necessary when he pulled away. Not because you didn't like his words... but because you didn't know what to do with them.

Love you.

Two words that shouldn't have meant so much, but that ignited too many things in your mind at once. It was easier for you to interpret spells than feelings. And yet, there you were, standing in front of him, trying to sustain that sentence without something inside you trembling.

You looked at him and nodded with a soft smile, even though inside your heart was racing faster than ever.

You're a great friend.

Friend. The word was sure. Familiar. But it sounded incomplete in his voice, as if it hid something deeper than even he knew what it was.

You didn't want to dwell on it too much. Or let the illusion distract you. But you also couldn't deny what that connection was becoming: something warm, quiet, impossible to ignore.

“Love you too, Bob.”

A second later, he walked over to the window, letting the sunlight spill onto his face. The tranquility of his mind was reflected in his physical appearance, for there, for a moment, he seemed almost unperturbed. With a glance, he silently asked you to join him, and you granted him the pleasure. The two of you stood for a while, watching the city awaken, ready for another day of New York life.

What neither of them noticed was the imperceptible shadow that snaked from the far side of the room, like a fissure in reality, a stain on the harmony. He listened, he always did.

And this time he didn't like what he heard.

He understood, deep down, what the man's decision meant: it wasn't enough to contain him; now they wanted to lock him up. In his twisted, sinister logic, he needed to find someone to blame. And you were the perfect person to place that responsibility.

Without you knowing it, from that moment on, the darkness began to stir more actively. It didn't attack immediately—it wasn't stupid—but rather began to whisper in the crevices, in your dreams, in your subconscious. But this time it wasn't in Bob: it was in you. Before those days, you'd been having nightmares that disturbed your nighttime peace, and you assumed it was just a passing thing; unfortunately, all they did was get worse as the days passed.

The temple halls were in ruins. Fire licked at the sacred walls, and the sky, blackened by smoke, hid any hope of dawn. You ran through the rubble, barefoot, your tunic soaked in ash.

It wasn't a memory, but one of your fears. All around you, apprentices screamed, ran, others vanished. Wong appeared in the doorway—or was it Strange? Everything was blurred—reaching out with his hand. But when you reached for him, you noticed with horror that he had no face. Just a mute, empty mass of flesh that watched you silently as the ceiling collapsed on top of you.

You didn't understand where all that fire was coming from, but something made you believe it was your fault. As if you had unleashed something evil or dangerous and now the rest of your companions were paying the consequences.

Other nights, it was worse. You could feel all the pain in the memories that tormented you, and you woke up sweating, shaking... sometimes you cried. It was difficult to cope with the situation, but you tried to hold it together as steadily as possible.

Of course, Bob didn't know any of that. Yes, he noticed you were a little downcast, your eyelids tired, but he attributed it all to the excuses you gave him, like I didn't sleep well or I was up reading last night. You reasoned with yourself that he didn't need to know that something was chasing you in your sleep, because whoever you assumed was guilty had nothing to do with him. It was too long a story to explain, and painful enough to want to relive.

Your friend, on the other hand, was making considerable progress. Yelena and Bucky had taken it upon themselves to find him one of the best specialists who could provide him with the appropriate care. Sometimes you were with him as he filled out his medical logs, in which he had to write down how he'd felt, his physical reaction to the treatment, his mental state, among other things.

The psychiatrist had warned him that finding the right medication could take time, but he wasn't discouraged by it. And the support you all were giving him made him feel much better.

One afternoon, you were lying on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a warm cup in your hands. Outside, the city was beginning to turn orange and blue, but the atmosphere in the common room was cozy and quiet. You hadn't said much all day, and although the others had respected your silence, Bob had noticed that your gaze weighed more heavily than usual.

He entered quietly, carrying two bowls of ice cream—one vanilla with almond pieces, the other chocolate—and sat down next to you without asking permission, as was already customary between you.

“You skipped dinner today,” he said softly, handing you one of the bowls.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you muttered simply. You took the ice cream anyway.

Bob took a spoonful and, without looking at you, began to speak enthusiastically:

“Did you know that vanilla ice cream was one of the first flavors invented? It seems simple, but in ancient times it was a luxury only royalty could enjoy. Imagine having to wait days for ice to make this?”

You gave him a funny look.

“And how do you know that?”

“I saw it on Reddit”

That made you laugh, and he imitated you. Then you ate in silence. He didn't insist, didn't ask questions, didn't fill the air with unnecessary words. He just offered you his company with that naturalness he'd learned to cultivate with you, as if he already knew that forcing calm only drove it away.

Bob took another spoonful of ice cream and gave you a curious look, almost as if he wanted to break the silence without being too pushy.

“Did you meet the original Avengers?”

You shook your head softly, leaning a little further back into the couch as your eyes wandered a little towards the ceiling.

“No, I wasn't that lucky. But I did help Stephen Strange during the battle against Thanos. It was… overwhelming, to say the least. Seeing so many heroes fighting together, seeing the destruction, the sacrifice…”

Bob nodded, slowly chewing his ice cream, as if digesting those words as well.

"It must have been a life-changing experience. Not everyone can say they've been in the middle of something like that."

You sighed and looked down at the ice cream, as if searching for the right words.

“I never thought I would go through that, and honestly, if I had been given the choice, I would have walked away.”

"Why?"

“I don't know. It's just… I mean, I knew there were threats, but being there made me realize it's not just about casting spells or fighting hard. It's much more complicated.”

Bob watched you intently, as if each of your words showed him a new facet of this world he was just beginning to discover.

“What do you mean? Being a hero?”

“Do you think I’m a hero?”

“Don’t you?”

The question fell softly, without pressure. You smiled, but there was a certain hesitation in your expression.

"I don't think I'm that. Sometimes I feel like I'm just doing what I have to do, because otherwise, no one else would. But being a hero... sounds like something big, something I don't know if I deserve."

He shook his head, with a genuine smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“But that's exactly what makes a hero, isn't it? Doing what needs to be done, even if you don't always want to or feel ready. I don't consider myself a hero anywhere near what I should be, but you... you have the strength to face things I can't even imagine.”

He slid a little further in your direction, as if he wanted to break through a physical, but also emotional, barrier.

“What you've been through, what you do, and how you keep going… that makes you a hero in my eyes. Not because of your battles or your powers, but because of your heart.”

The silence that followed was warm and meaningful. In that small space, without the need for grandiloquent words, both of you understood that there was more than just training and duty: there was a genuine bond, a connection that was growing with patience and respect.

Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, your fingers resting gently along the line of his jaw.

“What’s going on with you today?”

“Why?”

“You’re prettier than usual.”

Bob let out a soft chuckle, lowering his gaze, but didn’t pull away from your touch. His cheeks were warm, and when his eyes found yours again, they carried that gentle, trusting light he only showed when he felt safe with you.

“Don’t tell me things like that.”

"Why not?"

"It's bad for my health. I could get an arrhythmia or something."

You weren't expecting a joke like that, so you giggled as you pulled your hand away, letting it fall back onto the blanket. Silence returned, but this time it was different. Comfortable. Shared. The kind of silence that feels more like a wordless conversation.

Bob leaned back a little further on the couch, crossing his ankles, the now half-empty bowl resting on his abdomen.

“I was reading something this morning…” he began abruptly, “about how the mind clings most to moments where someone is simply there. Not to advise, not to solutions. Just… to presence. Sometimes I think that’s why I think about you so much.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, tilting your face slightly.

"Yeah?"

“Yes. There are days when you don't say much, but you're there. I think that's enough to make your memory stick with me. Like a spell.”

You looked at him, not entirely surprised, but moved by his simple way of expressing himself. There were no grand speeches, no theatrical gestures. It was him, and that was always enough.

“What beautiful words”

Bob smiled, satisfied.

“It's not that big a deal. I'm just learning to express what's happening to me. The doctor says it's important, that verbalizing it helps get what's hurting out.”

“And does this hurt?”

“No,” he replied, after a second’s thought. “It’s the opposite, actually. Talking to you always makes me feel better.”

You smiled again. The cup you'd been drinking from was already cold, but the warmth surrounding you came from somewhere else. He asked if you wanted to watch some TV, one of those boring late-night shows, and you agreed, hoping to distract yourself a little.

Little by little, thanks to the comfortable armchair, the blanket, and the distant murmur of voices, you felt your body give in to the mental fatigue you were experiencing. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, in a rather strange but genuinely comfortable position.

You felt like you'd barely blinked, and then you woke up again. But now Bob was gone.

The room was completely silent, with a chilly air filling the air, and it was completely dark. You thought he might have gone to his room to sleep a while ago. You were about to get up to follow his lead when, suddenly, a voice in the darkness startled you. At first, you thought it was just a misunderstanding. But the second time you listened, you realized it was someone calling your name: clearly and loudly.

“Yelena?” you asked blindly. It was a woman’s voice, it could only be her. “Hello…?”

They called your name again. Your blood ran cold as you recognized the whisper, a voice you thought you'd forgotten.

“Ameena?”

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔?

"What are you talking about?"

𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, she continued, ignoring your question. You couldn't see anything, but you tried to walk in the direction the sound was leading you.

“Where are you?”

𝐼'𝑚 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

“I can’t see you”

𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, she replied, her tone soft. Her voice seemed to come from all around, like a piercing echo.

A dizziness settled in the back of your head, and when you felt like you were about to fall, someone caught you. That touch had no warmth or comfort. It was as if something was making sure you wouldn't run away.

The darkness around you began to pulse, almost breathing. And the air—if it could even be called air—became thick; dense. And then you heard it: your name, spoken clearly, from every corner at once.

“Ameena…”

The vision responded with a ragged whisper.

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?

The figure emerged from the darkness like a forcibly exhumed corpse. Her robes were torn, blackened by something heavier than ash. Her face was little more than a twisted mask: her lips cracked, the skin on her cheekbones sloughing off in gray threads, as if the flesh had rotted away, leaving no soul free.

But her eyes... the eyes were hers. Or so it seemed. They returned your gaze with a look so broken, so wounded, that it hurt to hold it.

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙?

She took a step, and the ground shook beneath her as if the plane itself refused to support her.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑖𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠… 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛.

“It wasn’t like that… I just wanted to save you…”

Your voice came out small, hoarse. You couldn't tell if you said it or meant it. It made no difference now.

Ameena raised a hand and showed you her arm: burned, corrupted by black marks that pulsed like maggots beneath the skin.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑒.

Her voice was no longer your friend's. It was that of someone caught between planes, a shrill vibration laden with resentment.

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒.

The surroundings changed. It was no longer the room. Now it was Kamar-Taj burning again, distorted by a purple sky. You were at the center of the ritual. You could see yourself, younger, your hands trembling, your lips repeating a mantra you didn't remember writing. The invocation circle closed, and at its center, Ameena screamed. But not like someone hurt. She screamed like someone violently torn from the world, someone begging to be let go... and not heard.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟. 𝑂𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑. 𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑠. 𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠.

The air thickened. A dark liquid began to rise to your ankles as if the ground were melting into poison.

“T-That’s not true. The spell doesn’t do that…”

𝐴𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤? 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

“But I know it doesn’t. The spell didn’t work. Meena, I… I never meant to hurt you.”

Ameena stood before you now, but her features twisted like melted wax. Black threads hung from her mouth, falling onto your face.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑜. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢… 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐼𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡, 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠?

A pressure gripped your chest with an unnatural force. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't move. You knew she was talking about Bob, and the thought that someone might hurt him made you tremble.

That's when you felt Nimvath's presence. Not as a figure. But as an ancient will that forced its way through the emotional rift that had just been inflicted on you. She didn't speak to you, but her power slid like warm oil down your spine.

Ameena grabbed your arms with black nails that were no longer human. She leaned over you, her face distorted.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠.

A scream broke the silence.

You were back in the living room, where you were supposed to be resting, with the static of the television playing in the background. You had woken up—for real this time—and Bob was now beside you, apparently having fallen asleep just like it had you.

You felt like you were gasping for air, and when he lunged at you, holding you by the shoulders and constantly asking what was wrong, you knew that the scream you heard at the end had come from your chest.

You couldn't explain anything to him, because a second later—sweating and with a cold shiver running through your body—you writhed on the couch until you fell to your knees on the floor. Once there, you threw all the food you had in your stomach onto the floor.

The putrid smell still filled your nostrils and the sensation of dead flesh remained on your skin.

The rest of the tower's inhabitants were quick to appear, probably worried by the noise in the middle of the night, believing there was an emergency. They arrived in attack position, most of them in pajamas, their faces swollen and their hair disheveled. They didn't relax even when they realized you were crying, one hand outstretched as if rejecting the touch Bob was trying to give you. Your whole body was trembling, and your lungs felt like all the oxygen on Earth wasn't enough.

What followed was a bit of a blur. You vaguely remember Bucky and Alexei helping you back to your room while Yelena held your friend back, as he stubbornly tried to reach you. Some say it took you an hour to calm down. Others say the shock lasted twice as long.

What you were sure of was that you didn't sleep at all that night. You were afraid that when you closed your eyes, those horrible visions would return, or that perhaps worse ones would appear. You didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone, afraid of not being able to discern what was real and what wasn't.

A week soon passed. And no one ever spoke about it.

You'd simply said it had been a bad dream, and every time someone wanted to ask you a question, you completely evaded them. Not even Bob received answers beyond monosyllables or the same excuse, so repetitive it felt rehearsed.

On the third day, he gave up, trying to ignore the obvious barrier that now existed between you. A part of him felt guilty and fearful, as if your condition was a consequence of some of his actions. The more unbalanced he became, the more the evil within him manifested itself in your dreams.

One morning, you stood in the kitchen making tea, as if this mundane action could restore some peace of mind. The cups clinked in your cold hands. Your eyes remained sunken, beyond tiredness, beyond insomnia; beyond this plane.

Several members of the team were already awake, but only Bucky's presence accompanied you. You liked being with him because he rarely spoke, and the silence was just what you needed at that moment. You thought you could share a cup of tea with him, perhaps as a silent thank you.

Suddenly, without warning, the air was rent with the unmistakable sound of a portal opening. The echo of the incantation rattled every window, every molecule. You turned, worried, only to find that there was indeed the orange glow of dimensional rings burning in the middle of the kitchen. Your first impulse was to reach out to grasp your ring, ready for whatever was coming.

It was Wong who appeared, his robes barely stirred by the magical wind he carried with him. His eyes fell on you with something akin to urgency, but not surprise.

Your voice was barely audible when you asked him what he was doing there, interpreting his presence as an omen that nothing good was coming. First, he introduced himself—Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme—and then he walked toward you. He asked to speak privately, you agreed.

Once you were in the hallway, you were the first to speak:

“I guess you’re not just here to say hello, are you?”

He sensed the bitter tone in your voice. Neither of you seemed to like the position you were in.

“I need you to accompany me. There’s an imbalance north of the Valley of Sorrows. A rift has opened at the edges of a dormant reality… something that shouldn’t have awakened.”

“A demon?”

“Not just any one,” he replied, not looking at you. That wasn’t a good sign. “There are traces of primal magic. Traces of a force I recognized immediately. Yours. And something more.”

Your breathing stopped for a second.

“Nimvath?”

Wong nodded, though his expression remained impassive.

"If the seal has weakened, it's because someone else is forcing it from within. I need you to come. Not only because you have a connection to that entity, but because you're the only one who can withstand it without breaking completely."

“I’m not sure I’m up to that.”

He looked at you straight on, his features hard.

“That’s why. If you’re weakened… Nimvath knows.”

The metallic taste settled in your throat from the back. You felt like you were going to throw up again.

“I need to break that bond, Wong. I can’t stand it anymore.”

"That's impossible. But you must learn to control it; you learned those lessons at Kamar-Taj."

“But I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“We all have to face the consequences of our choices. Even when we don't want to.”

You swore your knees were going to buckle at any moment and your body would end up on the floor, defeated. The worst part was that you knew he was right.

“Just let me get my things, okay? And then we can go.”

He nodded. You backed away.

When you reached your room, your entire body language exuded resignation; exhaustion. You pulled out a small, enchanted backpack, large enough inside to hold the items needed for a short war. Robes, protective artifacts, minor grimoires, crystals. Everything fit silently, in measured movements.

You didn't know when, but Bob appeared in the doorway. He was silhouetted against the light in the hallway. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at you, watching you pack items he shouldn't recognize... but with a message he clearly understood.

“Are you leaving?” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Bob,” you sighed, turning to look at him. He looked like he had just woken up, still with traces of sleep on his face and his hair in disarray. “Yeah, I'm leaving. Wong needs me.”

“Your Sorcerer Supreme? Where?” he stepped inside. “Where does he need you?”

You packed one last jar of golden seals without immediately responding. Then you slung your backpack over one shoulder.

“It’s not a place. It’s a fracture,” you murmured. “A rift between dimensions that’s… bleeding. And if we don’t stem it, something that should be dormant will come through.”

“And why you?”

“I have an aptitude for that.”

"Did you see anything bad? Is that what you were yelling about the other night?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your throat tightened at the thought of Ameena's voice whispering to you from beyond death. She was just a puppet, a trap to weaken you.

“Are you okay?” he asked then, softer, closer. “Are you going to be okay?”

The question caught your attention. It was honest. Vulnerable.

And that's why it's so dangerous.

“I don’t know,” you answered finally. “But I have to. It’s not optional.”

Bob looked down. He seemed to be struggling with the idea of offering help, but knew this time it wasn't his battle. He didn't even know how he could intervene.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

“I hope so,” you sighed, a hint of sourness in your expression.

“And how will we know if you’re safe?”

You smiled, weakly, with a tired tenderness that wasn't affection, but felt like it.

You approached him. You didn't hug him. You didn't touch him. You just handed him a small, enchanted locket, the size of a coin, with a protective symbol inside. Something simple, subtle enough not to interfere with his… imbalance. Enough so he could tell if you were still alive.

“Take this. It’s like a mirror, it reflects my spirit. If this breaks…” you explained, “it’s because something broke in me.”

Bob took it carefully, his fingers trembling. He nodded without speaking.

"I have to go"

There were no hugs, no goodbyes. You just walked around the side and out into the hallway, not wanting to look back. Because that meant you were accepting the fact that you might not return; that you wanted to burn Bob's image into your mind in case it was the last time.

A week passed.

And with it, the warmth of your presence went too. The common room no longer smelled of incense or old books. The tower seemed emptier, quieter, as if your abandonment had absorbed all the energy that used to circulate through the halls. Bob came downstairs every morning hoping—or denying—to find you sitting there, legs crossed on the sofa, softly humming a tune while you flipped through one of your old texts or jotted something down in a notebook filled with symbols only you understood. But every morning it was the same. No one. Nothing.

Your favorite mug was still on the shelf, untouched. He'd washed it once, as a mechanical gesture, but then put it back there, waiting. He thought that if everything was just as you'd left it, maybe you'd feel less distant.

At first, he tried to convince the others—and himself—that you'd be back soon. That Wong just needed your help with an urgent ritual, or that a minor rift had emerged somewhere in the world that required your attention. You'd said it: I'll be back soon. He clung to those words like a mantra.

Three weeks passed.

And your voice began to live in his memory with a painful intensity. He remembered it guiding him through meditation sessions, when you taught him to breathe more slowly, to find a place of stillness in his mind where The Void couldn't reach him. Even without you, he continued the practice. He would sit in silence for hours, back straight, hands flat on his knees, waiting to hear your voice. Not his real one, but the one in his memory: steady, temperate, patient. That voice was the only thing that sustained him.

He became quieter. He ate less. He slept even less.

Sometimes he would sit motionless in the library, a book open in front of him without having turned a single page. Or he would pause in front of the window, staring up at the colorless sky, as if searching for signs.

Some days, he thought he heard you laughing in the kitchen. Other days, he heard your footsteps descending the stairs in that rhythm he'd learned to recognize. But when he went to check, no one was there.

The others in the tower noticed. Yelena tried to confront him once, asking if everything was okay, if he needed to talk. He only replied that he was meditating, that he felt calm, that he just needed time.

The month arrived when your absence haunted Bob.

It wasn't just nostalgia. It was a feeling that grew like a dark root deep in his chest. The Void, which had remained unusually still for some time, began to creep back into the edges of his mind. At first, in whispers. Then, in images that invaded his dreams: you, trapped in shadows, screaming his name, unable to reach you.

The balance he'd worked so hard to maintain was beginning to falter. And yet, he kept meditating. Every day. In every corner you'd been in, in every space where he could feel your trace. Because deep in his soul, he knew that if he stopped, if he allowed the silence to completely fill his mind, The Void would find him again.

The locket you had left for him rested on his nightstand like a sacred object.

He didn't dare hang it around his neck, as if afraid of breaking the last real bond that tied him to your presence. Every morning, upon awakening, he took it in his hands, delicately opened it, and examined the small symbols inscribed inside: a rune of protection, a seal of containment, and a barely visible trace of your energy. It emitted no light or heat, but it seemed to him that it still held your essence. Sometimes he took it with him to his meditation place, placing it in front of him as an anchor or amulet, and other times he simply held it until he fell asleep, hoping that your magic would protect him even from a distance. It was the only thing that hadn't failed him yet.

The night he dreamed of you again was different.

He didn't wake up screaming. He wasn't covered in sweat or with his hands shaking from a bloody nightmare. It was quieter. Colder.

In the dream, he walked down a corridor without walls. The floor beneath his feet seemed to float on an ocean of thick smoke, and the sky, if such a thing existed there, was tinged with a dirty gray, like wet paper. The silence wasn't peace; it was absence. Of sound, of time, of life.

And then, he saw you.

Not walking. Not standing in front of him with your usual poise and that confident gaze that used to calm everything. No. You were lying on a wooden bed in the center of the room, surrounded by threads of light suspended in the air. A white sheet covered your body up to your chest, and your arms rested motionless at your sides. Your hair spread like ink on the pillow, and your face had the cruel calm of an abandoned sculpture.

It was you. You were there.

Even though he knew he couldn't touch you, he took a step, then another. His gait became clumsy, slow, as if he were wading through thick water. No matter how hard he tried, the bed never seemed to get any closer. The world resisted him reaching you.

But you felt him.

You didn't open your eyes. You didn't turn your face. And yet, your chest moved more forcefully, as if his presence had touched a part of you that was still awake. Your lips didn't move, but he heard your voice clear inside his head, like a melody buried between the folds of memory.

Help me.

You didn't scream. You didn't beg. It was barely a wisp of air, thick with fatigue. It was your voice, but weaker, more broken. As if you'd been repeating that word for centuries without anyone being able to hear it.

He said your name.

He murmured it first. Then he shouted it. He reached out toward you, and then the bed was closer. So close, he could see a small crack above your collarbone, a symbol etched with ancient fire. Although it looked like blood, it wasn't, but magic. A mark he didn't understand, but one that emanated the energy of a warning.

He wanted to touch you, wanted to shake you and tell you he was already there, that you weren't alone. But when his fingers almost touched your cheek, something strange seemed to stop him. He didn't need to look back to realize he was there, a heavy shadow preventing him from moving, though this time it felt like he came with company.

Near you, hovering around your bed, it felt as if a new presence were tormenting you. It couldn't be The Void; it was a heavier energy... more powerful, no doubt.

Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his head, the sound piercing his ears painfully, and a vision appeared:

177A Bleecker Street.

He glanced at you, and then everything began to unravel, the ground shaking beneath his feet and a strange smoke rising. The lights went out one by one, and you slowly began to sink into the bed, as if the mattress was silently absorbing you. He screamed, he ran, but he couldn't touch you.

Bob woke with a dry spasm, his lungs empty and his heart like a frantic drum. He realized he was holding the locket in his hand. He had squeezed it so tightly that his fingers were numb, and one of the runes had been etched into his palm. The line still burned. He didn't know if it was from magic or memory, but it burned.

He sat up quickly and grabbed a notebook he'd forgotten on his nightstand, writing down the address still fresh in his memory in uneven strokes. It must have had some meaning if it had appeared in his dream; he was almost certain the vision of your lifeless body had rested there.

Why had you asked for help? Were you in danger? Maybe that's why you hadn't returned, because something had you captured in its clutches.

He wanted to think that if something had happened to you, Wong would have gone and informed him. But he believed more that in that case, he would have known. He would have felt it.

He couldn't sleep a wink for the next few hours, no matter how hard he tried. So first thing in the morning, he was already clean and dressed, ready to leave the Watchtower until he could find you. Without exaggerating, if he went another day without hearing from you, he felt like he was going to go crazy.

The Sanctum Sanctorum looked imposing, just as Bob imagined a building dedicated to safeguarding so many mystical objects would look. Above it was a symbol, which, although he didn't understand, let him know he was in the right place.

Bob knocked on the door. A young man dressed in clothes similar to the one you were wearing greeted him, and when he asked to see the Sorcerer Supreme, he was told to wait in a sitting room.

After a few minutes Wong appeared and, for some reason, he didn't seem surprised by the visit.

“Robert, right?”

“Hello, Miste–Master Wong,” he stood up.

There wasn't much small talk, but he got straight to the point. He told him about the dream, omitting details, simply stating that he thought you might be in danger.

Again, the expression that appeared on the sorcerer's face made him think that this was not new information to him.

“I had a feeling.”

“A feeling about what?”

The sigh that preceded that question worried Bob more than he would have liked.

“Follow me, please.”

The brunette walked through a maze of corridors, trying to keep up with the shorter man. Suddenly, a door opened, untouched, and Bob gasped at the sight before him.

You were lying in bed, just as he'd dreamed. You looked pale, lifeless, almost like a corpse adorned in a pretty white dress. All around you were still those magical inscriptions, and you seemed trapped in a bubble made of hundreds of floating crystals.

Bob wanted to take a step into the room, but Wong stopped him.

��What’s wrong with her?”

His voice came out more broken than he had expected. The situation didn't seem very hopeful.

“It’s a long story. You have to come with me.”

With no other choice, he followed his host once again. They both sat down on the armchair in a room that seemed to function as an office.

Wong inhaled deeply before speaking:

“She hasn’t told you the whole truth. Many years ago when I first met her, she was just a teenager. Seventeen, with a hollowness in her eyes that didn’t befit someone so young. She came alone, with no belongings, the Ancient One having picked her up from the streets where she’d been spending her time. Perhaps she felt sorry for her or wanted to do an act of charity, I… honestly don’t know. When she took her to Kamar-Taj, she responded to the spells with a fluidity that took others months, years, to achieve. The Ancient One said there was fire and fog on her path. That her soul shone, but not without shadows.”

He paused. The light in the room flickered a little with the crackling of the fire.

“The first time I heard her full story, it was during a night when no one could sleep. The energy of a storm was falling on the Himalayas, and most of the students were too restless to rest. She sat next to me, cross-legged, staring into the embers, and began to speak as if narrating something that no longer belonged to her.

»She told me about her mother, an extremely perceptive woman who was constantly paranoid. She described her as mentally ill, but I think she simply had a natural gift for connecting with the occult that she never knew how to use.

Instead of walking away, she somehow wanted to understand. To understand why her mother spoke to people who weren't there, or what those symbols she constantly drew meant. Once she was with us, she turned her mourning into study. She learned dead languages without a teacher, and after a few months she could reproduce energy-containment formulas without tools. A year later, she was drawing summoning circles flawlessly. With those skills, anyone would have thought she was the ideal candidate to become the master guarding a shrine, or even the Ancient One successor as Sorcerer Supreme. She was brilliant, yes, but also intense. She couldn't stand injustice in training and had a sense of duty that sometimes bordered on the reckless. But when she met Ameena, she softened a little. Or rather... she found something that gave her balance.

Wong finally looked at him, with the same seriousness as at the beginning.

“They were both apprentices, and soon they became inseparable. They formed a bond that went beyond friendship, as if they had become a single soul divided into two bodies. She was fine for a while, and Ameena kept her on the straight and narrow. Until one day, we were attacked. And Ameena was seriously injured. Once again, she had lost the only thing she thought she had for sure.”

»I always knew there was a crack in his spirit ever since his mother's accident, but what we never imagined was that the crack would widen so much.

She sought so fervently to reverse the loss that she became susceptible to the oldest temptations, to doors that must not be opened.

"What are you talking about?"

“She wanted to bring Ameena back from the dead. Those spells are dark, advanced magic, but above all, very dangerous and forbidden. Trying to do that corrupts anyone and allows evil entities to take over the caster. We knew what she wanted to do because we found her, with the circle still fresh and her body barely standing. Master Mordo wanted to exile her immediately, but the Ancient One insisted we not do so, or else the entity she had contacted could cause problems in the future.”

»She wasn't the same after that. She had to work hard for many years to deal with what was now trying to possess her, because a bond like that isn't easily broken. And she had been coping well until…"

“Until I showed up”

Bob felt his stomach churn. When he thought he could finally be with someone who wouldn't hurt him, someone who understood him, it turned out it was all a lie.

“It’s not entirely your fault. Nimveth has spent years trying to reach her, just waiting for her guard down to take advantage.”

“And all this has to do with that energy rift, right? The one you were supposed to seal. The mission you asked for her help with.”

Although he didn't mean to, the words came out with a reproachful tone. It was as if he wanted to find someone to blame for your unfortunate situation.

“She's the only one who could manipulate that kind of portal, if anyone else had tried she would probably have died.”

“And she’s not on edge right now?”

There was anger. He didn't know if it was because of how powerless he felt in the face of everything, because you had kept such a catastrophic secret, or because of the possibility that your proximity to The Void was the cause of your condition.

“She's in a spiritual coma. She's fighting an internal battle that she must overcome alone, or else Nimveth will continue to torment her until she gives herself up to death. I'd like to do more, but I can't. No one can.”

“Of course you can! She needs help.”

“It’s not something that I have to offer you.”

"So? You're just going to leave her locked up there until she decides to get up? How long will that take?"

“She could wake up tomorrow. It could be decades. That's not up to me.”

Bob felt like he might cry. You'd helped him out of the hole he'd dug himself so many times that he felt he had to do the same for you. He owed it to you.

There was no further discussion, what had to be said had already been said.

When he was back home, Yelena realized almost immediately that something was wrong with him. The man allowed himself to cry in his best friend's arms as he told her everything, feeling that with each word things became more real; more terrifying. It was too much to handle, especially for a couple of people who didn't even grasp the mystical predicament you were in.

Your words asking for help echoed in his head all the time, a knife twisting deep inside that wanted to bleed him dry.

He wasn't going to give up so easily, because he knew what it was like to find himself in that position. It wasn't until then that, somehow, he realized that Yelena truly understood him when she risked seeking him out in The Void, so many months ago that it seemed like another lifetime. The balance he had now was his merit, but he would never have known how to achieve it without your unconditional support.

A goal was set in his mind. He was going to do everything possible to bring you back from unconsciousness safe and sound.

That night, before going to sleep, he hung your locket around his neck, like an amulet to guarantee the success of his mission. Then he took a deep breath, drank the entire contents of a teapot of meditative herbs, and closed his eyes, hoping to find the path that would lead him to you.

Even if it meant facing his own demons to rescue you from yours.

It took him days to be energetically prepared enough to establish a connection that would last long enough to make a change. It wasn't an easy task, but he didn't stop trying. Until he succeeded.

That space you inhabited—your mind? A prison? He wasn't sure—wasn't at all what he'd imagined.

It was a peaceful place, seemingly a forest, filled with cherry trees whose blossoms fell with every gust of wind. A delicious smell rose from inside a building, something very similar to a ryokan—Bob had read about them on an internet site—and lights flickered as a sign of human presence.

He tried to adjust to the sensation of his body in that dream. When he was more stable, he soon walked to the door, where he knocked a couple of times, perhaps sounding a little too desperate. Someone answered the knock, but a second later his face twisted into a confused grimace.

It wasn't you standing in front of him, but a young woman with Asian features who wore her long black hair in a braid. Judging by her expression, she wasn't too pleased with what she was witnessing either.

“Get out of here. Now.”

“Who are you? Where is she?”                     

Neither of them could say another word because, almost immediately, a third voice appeared.

“Who is it, Ameena?”

Bob managed to recognize two things: first, the name of your dead friend, and then that it was you speaking from inside. He took a hasty step forward, wanting to see you as quickly as possible, but she prevented him from moving.

“Meena?” you exclaimed again. The girl’s eyes had darkened as she looked at Bob. “Hey, what’s up with…?”

Your words were cut off when you reached them. His heart raced when you finally locked eyes and he spoke your name so softly it sounded almost like a prayer.

“Bob…”

“Found you,” he exclaimed reverently, pushing aside the other girl to lunge at you.

His arms wrapped around you below your shoulders and he spun you around in the air, listening to you laugh in his ear. You were soft, fragrant, and your skin felt fresh.

“Bob!  How did you get here? Did Ameena invite you?”

He turned to the aforementioned woman, looking at her. His expression had changed to a less threatening one.

“I knew you’d love some extra company.”

When you looked at him, beaming with joy, you seemed like a different person. Your whole appearance had changed, your skin was glowing again, and your smile was priceless; you were beautiful, to say the least. Nothing even seemed to be troubling you. There was only peace in your features.

“Oh, so wonderful. Come, I have so many things to show you. You’ll see how beautiful everything is here!”

Bob let himself be pulled by you as you held his hand, leading him inside the house. Even with his back to you, he could feel your friend's heavy gaze, as if his presence was disrupting something in the environment and she wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

The whole place seemed like a fantasy world, too perfect to be real. It was strange, but definitely better than the shame housing Bob used to wander through when The Void took over. He supposed everyone expressed trauma differently.

Soon you led him to a room, which he assumed was yours. Once there, he realized that, just like your body in the sanctuary, you were wearing white clothing; too light and with delicate embroidery in strategic places that made you look like an ethereal being.

"What is this?"

“It’s my bedroom, don’t you like it?” you asked innocently. It wasn’t anything like your room at the Watchtower—this one was cleaner and tidier. “I have everything I ever wanted. A big window, silk sheets, sunlight, all these plants, warm nights in the winter and cool nights in the summer.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not much. But Meena says it is, she's lived here longer.”

For a second, Bob wondered if what he was witnessing was the afterlife. That thing after death, where your dead friend must be. But you hadn't died, and neither had he, so it could only be an illusion.

“Is that your friend’s name?”

“Oh, yeah! I’m a fool, sorry. I didn’t introduce you.”

You began to tell him a story, about how you'd met her and how close you two were. But the story was distorted because you'd never been together at Kamar-Taj, and the tiny detail of her death was missing from your timeline.

You were perfectly still in front of him, no cuts, bruises, or pain on your face; but it didn't feel right to Bob. There was something macabre behind it all, and he would have to find out.

He became your guest, and for the next few hours, you devoted yourself to him with the sweetness of someone longing to redeem lost time. Your smile seemed freshly woven by the same sun that bathed the cherry trees, and you frequently offered him a hot drink in a hand-carved cup. Every so often, you drew a sigh from him with your fingers tangled in his.

The forest paths, covered in petals that fell with a serene rhythm, became a space of peace. The flowers never withered. The sky was a constant canvas, neither too bright nor too gloomy, as if the world breathed according to your emotions. You taught her to identify the healing buds, the vines that sang if you got close enough, and the translucent dragonflies that flew in perfect spirals over the ponds.

As evening fell, you walked to a lake so still it reflected even your unspoken thoughts. Fireflies, like joyful souls, danced on the surface with golden sparkles, and you laughed as he tried to catch them, only to have them dissolve like vapor in his hands. In a clearing hidden among the trees, you explained about infusions with herbs that only grew there: leaves of moonlight, petals of memory, roots of silence. Bob couldn't remember the last time someone had guided him with such care, such attention, such contained love.

And yet, he didn’t let his guard down.

Because Ameena was always there, like a shadow of conscience. Her gait was silent, her eyes like bottomless pits. She watched you. Always watched.

You tried to bring the two of them closer so they could find something in common. You invited her several times to sit with you under the ryokan's eaves, where wind chimes made of seashells hung and rang out sweet notes. You offered her space, but she rarely said anything. And when she did, it was like throwing a stone into still water:

“This place wasn’t created to hold doubters,” she once told him, as Bob watched you watch a waterfall of liquid light descending soundlessly. You probably didn’t hear, “The balance is fragile. Don’t break it.”

Bob didn't respond. He just looked at her, suspiciously. Something about her felt wrong, like a familiar face seen in a fevered dream. He didn't believe her calm, her warnings, her permanence. And sometimes, he wondered if you didn't believe her real either.

But you carried on as if you didn't notice the crack, or as if you were trying hard not to notice it. You shone like the first time he saw you. Your laughter became the only reliable constant. And when you brushed his hair or ran your fingers down his arm, he felt his resistance weaken. That maybe, just maybe, there could be peace there.

That night, as the artificial sun sank behind the overly symmetrical mountains, you invited him to dinner with you. The scene looked like something out of a painting suspended in time: soft lights from floating lanterns, a delicately laid tatami mat, silk cushions under a polished wooden table. You had cooked with care that touched on the sacred: aromatic rice infused with jasmine, vegetables covered in a golden sauce, sweets made with candied cherry blossoms, and warm sake that glowed like amber.

You moved with the same grace with which the rain fell in ancient tales, a translucent fabric glided over your skin, subtly outlining your figure, and your hair fell loose, barely held back by a purple ribbon.

He was enthralled with you and constantly had to remind himself that he was there to find a way to free you, to return you to the real world where you lay inert.

“Now that you’re staying…” you said softly as you poured the sake, “everything will be better. I promise.”

Bob took the glass. He held it in his hands for a second, then set it down on the table. He looked at you, and in his eyes there was no anger, but an unshakeable truth.

“I don’t plan on staying,” he said in a firm voice, almost as if he regretted it.

Your hands remained still, still on the tray. A heavy pause stretched in the air, and for a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

"Why not?"

Your steps were slow, your eyes pleading.

“Because this is not my place”

“But this world is calmer, kinder, don’t you think?” you insisted. Then you took a step toward him, smiling.

You sat down with feline slowness on his legs, so close that the air between you seemed to thicken. Your arms wrapped around his neck with deceptive softness, like a silken bow that doesn't suffocate, but doesn't allow escape either. You looked at him from so close that Bob felt his chest tighten and his heart race. He had to clear his throat to speak:

“It certainly is. But you know it’s too good to be true, don’t you?”

You didn't respond immediately. Instead, you decided to focus on his lips, which your hand had already slid over to caress with your thumb. If he hadn't been so busy reminding himself of his purpose, he would have been able to better appreciate the softness of your touch.

“You’re so cute, have I told you that before? You’re kind, handsome, smart… you’re gorgeous.”

Your lips approached his with exasperating slowness, as if you wanted every millimeter to be etched into his memory. Bob resisted the sensation of your hot breath against his with a willpower that would have surprised anyone. You didn't care and leaned in to kiss him anyway.

There was no rush or hunger in the contact. It was a silent, yet devastating kiss. A touch that didn't seek desire, but something more dangerous: belonging. Bob felt his blood run cold. Every second of contact with your mouth was an invisible cord tangling around his throat. Because it wasn't just a kiss. You were giving yourself away, yes, but you were also asking him to stay; to surrender.

Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, gently burying themselves in his hair, and your forehead rested against his. The warmth of your skin was a promise. The subtle tremor of your breath, a plea that reached beyond his body.

“We could be happy here, Bob. You and me. No reminders of pain. No need to fight. Just who we are… without the world around us. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

Bob took you by the waist and then closed his eyes. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it: a motionless future among eternal cherry trees, your kisses every morning, your voice whispering that everything was okay. No one else. Nothing else. Just that garden, your laughter, your warmth against his chest.

But then he remembered the echo, Wong, the crack through which The Void whispered in his mind even now, even in this illusory paradise. And then he remembered something else: the real you. The one who didn't run away, the one who didn't need to hide in a perfect dream, and the one he considered a hero.

His forehead was still against yours, he could feel his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Stay with me, baby. Please, I want you to. I need you here, with me.”

“This isn’t real,” he murmured sadly, finally working up the courage. “And even if it were… you wouldn’t be here. You’re not like that.”

Your eyes darkened, almost imperceptibly, but Bob felt it: an invisible fracture running through your aura. Your breathing became shallower and your lips trembled. You didn't respond.

"You're one of those who fight, who face life with your strengths and weaknesses. You do what you have to do, remember? Because that's what helps others."

“I’m trying to help you, Bob. I offer you happiness, and you despise me.”

“I'm not looking down on you, no. This is an illusion. We'll never be truly happy if we stay hidden in this. I want you to come back with me, please. This false utopia is the work of something evil. We can't stay. Please, I need my heroine to come home.”

You didn't say anything, but he felt everything around you falter. It was as if his words had affected you more than you expected, perhaps making you reconsider for a brief second.

Bob looked up, and deep inside the ryokan, from the threshold of the shadowy corridor, Ameena slowly turned her head. Her eyes were like two dead moons. She said nothing, but there was something cold in her gaze. Something that announced that the veil was beginning to fall.

He, in an attempt to help you reason, leaned down again to join your lips. This time there was pleading in his gesture, an impatient caress that wanted to consume you completely, as if with that he could transport you back home.

"Please"

“Bob”

“Come back with me, okay? I'm the one who needs you…”

Your lips barely touched his again, but they were no longer warm. They were cold like stagnant water.

And your eyes… they were no longer pleading. They were watching him.

𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙?

The voice that emerged from your mouth was not yours.

Bob opened his eyes with a start. You were still on his lap, but your body had gone inert, as if pulled by invisible strings. The entire ryokan vibrated, as if the building were truly alive.

A sweet, familiar, but horrifying laugh filled the air.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒, Nimvath said, sounding all around mocking. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝. 𝑈𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒.

Bob gritted his teeth, holding you by the back with a mixture of fury and desperation. Your body felt like a doll's, one he would defend at all costs.

“Where is she?”

𝑆ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, Nimvath replied with false sweetness. 𝐷𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒. 𝑆𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙. 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤? 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛… 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑠.

Bob shook his head, his throat tight.

“She would never have asked me. Not like this.”

𝑂ℎ, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒. 𝐼 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦. 𝐴𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠, 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛… 𝐼 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒. 𝐴 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠? 𝐴𝑛 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛?

Nimvath then materialized. Tall, slender, with a figure that seemed human until you looked closely: her arms were too long, her movements too smooth, as if she were floating more than walking. Her skin was pearly gray, cracked like broken porcelain, and through those cracks filtered a violet light that pulsed, alive.

Her face was beautiful, but not the kind of beauty that comforts, but the kind that unsettles. Completely black eyes, shining like obsidian, and a smile that opened wider than natural, perfect and sharp. Her hair floated around her like smoke tinged with purple and blue.

She began to walk around Bob, like a lover planning her last deception.

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐿𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑒, 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛.

Bob stood up, carrying you in his arms. His voice came out firmer than he'd ever intended:

"No"

𝑁𝑜?

“No. You’re going to leave her alone. And me too, do you understand?”

𝑂ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒? 𝑌𝑜𝑢?

Nimvath's voice grew harsher, deeper. Around them, the illusion trembled. The floating lanterns flickered with agonizing light, and the ryokan began to crack, like wet paint tearing from its center. Bob didn't take his gaze off you. He held you to his chest, still inert, like an incarnate oath.

“Yes,” he replied in a firm voice, “Me.”

But then, a dark laugh cut through the air, slicing through it like a blade. It wasn't coming from Nimvath. It was coming from within him.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐁𝐨𝐛? 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫? 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲?The Void’s voice emerged from the deepest corner of his consciousness. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫.

Bob gritted his teeth. The pressure in his chest increased. One more second, and The Void would break the surface. Nimvath smiled, her lips stained with black magic.

𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚? 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐻𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒.

“Shut up,” he growled.

Nimvath raised his hands. Shards of the illusion began to spin like sharp crystals, pointing toward him. Forbidden magic surrounded his body like a hungry gale. There was no trace of humanity left in his eyes.

𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦, 𝐵𝑜𝑏. 𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑠.

Bob fell to his knees, feeling the pull of the abyss. The Void's voice echoed in his mind, urging him on, pleading. Everything inside him cried out for surrender.

And then, he heard it. Not with his ears, but with his soul. A clear, golden voice; familiar.

ɢᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ.

The light exploded inside him like a pent-up sun. It wasn't fire, it wasn't rage. It was strength, compassion, courage. It was Sentry.

Bob's eyes shone like liquid gold. He stood up, still in your arms, and for the first time, The Void retreated. Not because it had been defeated, but because it had been eclipsed.

“She doesn’t hide,” Bob said. “She fights. And so do I.”

He extended a hand. Golden energy surged from his fingers, pure, incandescent. It wasn't a destructive beam, but a wave that shattered the illusion like smoke in the wind. Every false corner of the world Nimvath created shattered. The cherry trees vanished. The tatami mats turned to earth. The shadows fled.

Nimvath screamed, trying to channel more power, but the golden energy engulfed her. It wasn't destroying her: it was expelling her. Then Bob stepped forward. His shadow was no longer that of The Void. It was another, taller, more luminous. It was Sentry, shining behind him, like a guardian.

The entity writhed, screamed, and struggled to regain control. But it was useless; even it was no match for the energy it faced. One last, thunderous scream was heard before it was sucked into the rift that opened beneath its feet. The false plane collapsed in a crash. Only reality remained.

Bob was back in his room, sweaty, hugging something he thought was your body at first; it was actually a pillow he was holding tightly to his chest.

For the first second, he couldn't think of anything logical, but instead worried at the thought that all his efforts had been for nothing and that you, merely a product of his delirium, had been left behind. That you were probably still bedridden, your vitality seeping through your fingers and your face pale.

But then he felt a stinging sensation in his chest. It was a strange sensation, as if someone were pouring hot metal against his skin. He rummaged through his pajamas until he found the object responsible, the one hanging around his neck.

The man was mesmerized by the dazzling amber color that had flooded your locket, one that illuminated the engravings and revealed a certainty: you were fine. Your connection had escalated to an indescribable astral level, so he trusted it was the truth, because he could feel it. He could feel you.

Bob put on his shoes almost immediately. He didn't even mind going out in his pajamas; he only bothered to throw a jacket over his shoulders to protect himself from the cold. He didn't know if the superhero pack came with an enhanced immune system, but he didn't want to risk finding out.

He felt particularly anxious the entire walk to the Sanctum Sanctorum, which seemed longer than he remembered. Maybe it was just because he was so nervous about finally seeing you, or perhaps because of the unusual schedule. Only a few people were milling about in the streets, most of them homeless or drunk.

When he knocked on the door, there was no immediate answer. He assumed that not many people visited in the middle of the night, so he waited patiently.

No one answered. He knocked again. That second time, someone answered his call.

“Can I help you?”

“Hello. I want to see the Sorcerer Supreme.”     

"Who?"

“The… huh, the sorcerer,” he repeated, suddenly more self-conscious at the man’s imposing presence. “Master Wong.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Robert”

It wasn't the man who answered, but a deeper voice from inside the Sanctum. Wong had appeared over the shoulder of the stranger who had greeted him.

“Let him in”

The door opened slightly, and Bob felt an immediate sense of relief. He crossed the threshold without waiting for another signal. Everything still smelled the same: of incense, scroll, and something older he couldn't name.

“Sorry for the late hour. I’m so sorry to burst in like this, but…” Bob rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words, “I thought something had happened. I couldn’t just keep it to myself.”

“Did you intervene?” Wong asked suddenly, without looking at him. “In the last few days? In dreams, or through meditation?”

“No,” Bob replied quickly. His tone was soft, almost guilty. Anyone would have doubted he was lying.

“Well, she woke up.”

Bob stopped dead in his tracks. His heart leapt.

“Is she awake? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

Wong looked at him with a hard-to-read expression. It wasn't stern, but it wasn't compassionate either. There was something else: a concern he didn't dare show entirely.

“I can’t promise you’ll see the same person you remember,” he replied calmly. “But she’s alive. That, in itself, is more than we expected.”

Bob swallowed. He wanted to say so many things, but it all came down to one plea.

“Please. I just want to see her. I won't say anything. I won't do anything… I just need to know she's okay.”

Suddenly he looked at him, this time with a more human expression. Then he nodded once.

“Follow me”

They walked down a corridor further from the main hall, where the walls seemed to pulse with a suppressed energy. In the end, they entered an upper chamber, where floating candles formed protective circles and the temperature was lower than in the rest of the Sanctum.

You were asleep, or something close to it. Your breathing was slow, your face calm. Bob took a step forward, his heart in his throat.

“Don’t come any closer,” someone ordered firmly, barely raising his hand.

Bob stopped. In front of him stood a handsome man with green eyes and a serious expression. Gray hairs seemed to be sprouting from his temples, neatly combed, gradually extending to the area of his goatee. A burgundy cape hung from his back.

He guessed who it was from the stories you'd told him before. He confirmed it when Wong spoke:

“Stephen”

“She’s stable,” Strange said. “But in a delicate transition. Don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her. Just watch”

Bob took a deep breath, his soul straining.

“What happened to her?”

Strange shook his head, very slightly.

“We're still evaluating it. But it's not physical. Wong asked me to come because this is beyond anything he or I have ever faced with her before. It's not just about healing… it's about containing.”

Bob turned his attention back to you. He wanted to get closer, touch you, reassure you that he was there.

“And is she going to recover?”

Strange watched him for a few seconds, pondering each word.

“Keep fighting. It's the only certainty we have.”

The silence became thick.

“Can I stay here for a moment? Please,” Bob said, almost in a whisper. “I don’t need anything else.”

Strange exchanged a glance with Wong. The master nodded slowly.

“Stay,” he conceded. “But if anything changes… if she reacts, or if the energy shifts, you need to get out.”

Bob didn't respond. He just nodded, his eyes on you.

Wong and Strange left the room silently, without explanation. The doors closed with an almost respectful whisper, leaving behind a strange, delicate peace. The candles remained floating in place, casting soft shadows on the walls.

He stayed beside you for a long moment. He didn't know if he should speak, if he should breathe more quietly, if the slightest movement would break the fragile thread that kept you anchored to that room. Suddenly, he blushed when he remembered you, in his arms, kissing him fervently while you promised him an ideal world.

Disobeying the masters' instructions, he reached out to smooth your hair, lightly stroking your cheek. Then, with a barely perceptible sigh, you blinked.

Your eyelashes fluttered and your eyes opened slowly, as if the light in the room was still foreign to you. When you focused your gaze, it was filled with something between surprise, relief, and a quiet tenderness.

“Bob?”

Your voice was barely an echo, but it was enough to make him lean closer, a soft smile on his lips.

“Yes, it’s me”

You looked back up at the ceiling, disoriented, as if you had just noticed the texture of the air around you.

"Where am I?"

“Safe,” he replied firmly.

There was a brief, lukewarm silence, and then you looked at him again.

“I saw you… in my dreams”

Bob lowered his head a little.

"I know"

“Were you there?” you asked, not with doubt, but with curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Maybe"

Your lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile. You closed your eyes for a second, as if searching within yourself for something that still hurt.

“I know what you did,” you finally said, your voice weak, but clear. “Thank you.”

Bob let out a small sigh, shaking his head humbly.

“You would have done the same for me,” he murmured. “Someone already did it for me, actually. I just did what had to be done.”

You half-opened your eyes and looked at him with a spark of gentle humor, tired, but alive.

“You already sound like a hero.”

Then you slowly extended your hand toward him, a simple gesture, but full of meaning. Bob took it in both hands, with a tenderness that felt both old and new. He held it for a moment, brought it to his lips, and placed a slow kiss on your knuckles, as if sealing a silent oath.

You swallowed, and although you were still weak, your words came through clearly.

“Can you stay with me? Please.”

Bob didn't answer right away. He just squeezed your hand a little tighter, resting his forehead on it with his eyes closed. You were asking him to stay again, and he smiled, realizing it was real now.

“Of course I’m staying,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And so he stayed. Sitting next to you, like a wordless vigil, like an anchor protecting you from the invisible waves that still dragged you down inside. Outside, the night continued. But inside, for the first time in a long time, the world felt calm.

taglist: (thank u!): @highinhardtown @yesshewrites1 @haydenlizz @tenmaabnesti @qardasngan @serenitybloodmoon @littlemsbumblebee

[mscherub]

Clinging for (Emotional) Support

Prefect needs a bit of a break after a stressful day, so they seek out their favorite person…

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect or Y/N

Warnings!: The Leech Twins… :)

These are just my headcanons!

Tags: Fluff, romantic or platonic (perceive it whichever way you’d like to), hugs and cuddles, comfort

Heartslabyul; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle (you’re here :3), Scarabia; Pomefiore; Ignihyde; Diasomnia

Intro:

You’ve had a bad day, well, a worse one than usual, and you feel like you’re on the verge of crashing out. So, you go to one of your favorite people and you cling to them for some emotional support, not doing anything else besides holding on for dear life and nuzzling your face into their chest or shoulder, not providing one bit of information as to why you’re even doing this. But, don’t worry, they care for you a lot, maybe more so than they let on <3

Riddle 🌹:

He doesn’t take to well to it at first

When you come to him looking all stressed out, he’ll obviously offer you some support and offer to talk with him about whatever is bothering you, but when you shake your head and instead wrap your arms around him and burry your face in wherever it can reach, he freezes up

“Prefect! Why are you doing this? Th-this is unacceptable! This is improper!”

He’ll turn bright red, not out of anger but out of embarrassment of the whole situation

He still won’t be totally used to it even when you keep it up, genuinely confused as to why you chose him out of all people and more importantly, keep coming back to him, but he won’t admit to it, it also helps him calm down too when you hold on

On rare occasions when he’s not too busy with other things and you two are in a more secluded place, he’ll hug you back

“Agh- again, Prefect? A little warning next time before you get all handsy with me…are you alright, though? Don’t be stressed, you’re as lovely as a rose, don’t begin to wilt simply because of a setback.”

Trey ♣️:

People rely on him, yes, but you’ve brought it to a whole new level here, like, you’re physically leaning on him now

At first he just laughs out of being surprised, but when he sees you hugging him tighter, your brows furrowed in clear stress, he’ll stop and ask what’s going on

“Hah! What’s this— oh…hey, look at me, are you ok? Do you want a sweet treat?”

He’ll wrap his arms back around you without a second thought, gently rubbing your back as well to add that extra boost of comfort

He has younger siblings so of course he’s well off in a situation like this, basically second nature at this point for him

If he’s baking, he may not have time for you to cling to him like you’d want, so he’ll apologize when he’s done with one of the baked goods and by letting you stick by him as long as you want, but he’ll try and make the time for you always

“Prefect…it’ll be alright. Want a tart? They’re freshly made, as always…anything to help you feel better.”

Cater ♦️:

Heyyy! There you are! Oh…why are you looking at him like that…that’s not good, you don’t look to good, emotionally wise…

As soon as you wrap your arms around him he’ll tense up. He’ll awkwardly look down at you and quirk an eyebrow

He’s no stranger to the emotions of people around him so he can tell something is up fairly quickly with the people close around him

“What’s wrong? Do you need Cay-kun to come to the rescue— no jokes…ok, gotcha. Spill it, Prefect, what’s the matter?”

He’s gentle about it, this type of support he learned from his sisters

He’ll lead you off to a more quieter place and just chill out with you until you either tell him what’s wrong or let go of him

He’ll try and cheer you up with taking pictures with funny filters on, if that doesn’t work, he has other methods. Maybe see what’s the spiciest thing he can eat? If you laugh at him tearing and snotting up from it, it’s worth the pain

“Ahhh, what am I gonna do with you? Wanna see Cay-Kun looking all stupid with this filter? Did you smile finally? Aweee, you’re adorbs, Prefect, smile again for me, I need to celebrate you feeling better with a post on my page!”

Ace ❤️:

He’ll try and push you off at first, he didn’t exactly see your expression so he’ll try and pry your arms off of him, huffing while doing so

Like why are you clinging to him? Hello? Earth to Prefect, get off of him now!

once he realizes there’s something up he’ll stop with trying to push you away and he’ll go quiet, awkwardly standing there and mumbling before he finally asks if something’s up

“Aye! What’s this? Get off of meeeeeee, Prefect, let go, why are you doing this— oh…um…so…are you…ok?”

He’s going to try and tease you at first, it’s an Ace thing, so don’t take it to heart, but if you won’t let up he’ll try and be a little more considerate

He’ll pat your back in an unsure manner, not quite knowing what to do, but when you don’t ease up, he decides maybe it’s best to take some action

If you want to see some magic tricks to cheer you up he’ll do it, but you gotta let go— no? Ok…he can do something else to make you better then

Reassuring words are rare from him, but he cares a lot for you, so he’ll spare a few

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Whatever happened just know I’m always here, even if I may seem like an ass half the time— ok…of course I can be honest about myself from time to time. Oh hushhhhh…I’ve got you, I just want you to be happy, smile again, looks better on you.”

Deuce ♠️:

Cue confused noises coming from him, he won’t exactly question what you’re doing, but he will he going through a whole bunch of different scenarios through his head as to why you are doing this

When he sees you’re not your normal self, the lightbulb will go off in his head and he’ll ask how you’re doing

“Uh…prefect? Are you alright? Talk to me here, what’s up? Are you hurt? No? Answer me here…”

He’ll hug you back, albeit tentatively as hell, but he doesn’t want to do anything wrong and he doesn’t want to do something that’ll upset you more, which him not doing anything might actually upset you more— anyways

He’ll keep talking to you to try and get you to rant about whatever you’re finding particularly stressful at the moment. And no, he totally won’t threaten anybody if that’s the cause of your stress, don’t think like that—

“You sure you’re ok? You’re stressed because…of a person? Prefect, I can handle them— ok, never mind. Sorry…I’ll stay right here, don’t worry. By your side as long as you want me to be. Protecting you as long as you need me to…I’ll stop being cringey…”

Leona 🦁:

Glares at you because you’re in his personal space, like what are you doing?

He can sense something is off though, it’s not that hard to tell when you wrap your arms around him and cling on for dear life like he’s gonna slip away at any moment

He’ll make a small huff and his tail will flick a few times before he asks what’s up

“Herbivore…what’s this for? Never thought you were this bold to be glued to a predator like this…not in a laughing mood, huh? Tell me what’s wrong, then get off me, I’m trying to sleep…”

Sorry not sorry, but everyone knows Leona is a dick most times, just a given fact, but in all honesty, when it comes do you he does care, even though his words sound lacking of it, he only means good

He won’t push you off, he’ll let you stick to him…actually, you know what, why not just stay with him and take a nap? I think it’d better the both of you, and you’d have time to wind down while also being with him

Few words are shared between you, but you have a cuddly lion now, so…there’s that

Win win, no?

“Mmm, no, you don’t have to go…just stay here. I’m not a complete ass, I know when someone needs a little help. Relax…no literally relax you’re moving around too much, Herbivore…”

Ruggie 💰:

Boy is he confused

Honestly, at first, bro thought he was getting robbed by someone, but when he seen it was you, he got all happy and started teasing you like normal

Then when he watches you burry your face into his clothes he knows something is not right. He’s…worried but doesn’t really know how to convey it

“Hey! Oh, prefect! Miss me that much? Shyeheehee!! Hmmm? Heyyy, what’s up with that look? Huh?”

Now he’ll try and cheer you up

His methods are a little quirky, but he’ll offer to buy you something with Leona’s money, let me rephrase, get you both something to snack on with Leona’s money

You can still chill with him, he enjoys it

“Leona’s asleep, I can go snag his wallet and I can score us something at Sam’s shop…I’ll buy the more expensive one this time I guess if it’ll cheer you up…don’t make me use Laugh with Me on you just to see you smile again— Shyeheehee! I’m messing with ya!”

Jack 🐺:

Stiffens up quite quickly. He’ll look down at you and wonder what the hell you’re trying to do but then he’ll realize that you’re not exactly at your best in this moment, he can basically feel it radiating off of you

His ears will flatten against his head, betraying how he feels almost right away.

His words are simple and few, but he does mean well and has good intentions

“What’s wrong? Why are you…so are you ok? No? Ok…can I do something to help?”

He likes to help those he holds close to him, so of course he’ll try and comfort you to the best of his abilities. You want to pet his tail? That may be a little too far—

Fine…he can let you, just this once, but if anyone sees it’s over!

“Prefect…how can I help cheer you up? I don’t think my tail is a great option…it is? I…fine, just this once I guess, if it’ll help cheer you up.”

Azul 🐙:

This is…not what he intended to happen upon seeing you, yea, no…he already has Floyd to worry about now apparently you? Yea…he stiffens up and kinda just stands there, sputtering nonsense, and then trying to push you off of him

He’ll finally take the hint when you just hug him tighter after he fails to get you off. He still won’t calm down that much

Might try and pull the business move on you, especially since you’re in such an emotionally weakened state…he won’t he would

“Prefect! I— what is— no! Hey— you…what…I don’t condone this! You’re…not ok. What do you expect me to do? Wait…actually, why don’t you come back to my office and we can discuss what I could do to assuage your ailments— no then…”

He’s kinda flattered you chose him, but it’s not like he’s really…great at comforting, he’ll try his best. You’ll have to pay him back for it later on your own time

He’ll try and talk to you about it, I don’t really see him trying to touch you or comfort you in any other way. To him, words can go a long way to help someone

“You’re in need, and that’s what our dorm specializes in the best. Can you talk about what is bothering you? I won’t use it against you…I promise. I’m not that bad. Talk to me, it’ll help clear your mind”

(Be careful, blackmail is a good thing to have, he might use whatever you say against you…)

Jade 🫧:

He’ll eerily smile at you at first, he stated he gets overheated easily so…hugs are not really preferred, but he’ll entertain you

He’s not exactly confused, rather intrigued by the whole thing. Why are you clinging to him? Exactly, why him? It’s rather interesting, and almost pathetic in his eyes, but it makes the situation all the more sweet, in his own twisted way

He’ll notice you’re out of it and gently put one hand on the small of your back, that’s the furthest he’ll go

“Oya? Hmmm…fu fu fu, this is quite interesting, no? What is it you need, Prefect? You know the motto of our dorm. I’m willing to assist in whatever you’d need…”

Like I’ve mentioned before…he likes to be relied on. So he kinda likes the situation. He’ll stay with you as long as time permits him. His smile is…far from his normal polite one.

“Prefect? You may talk to me about whatever is troubling you, but I know some humans prefer not to. You can stay by me as long as you need, but just know I may have to get to work soon. For now, however, my time is yours…”

(Y’ALL WHAT DID U EXPECT ME TO SAY, THE TWINS, as much as I love my babies 😭, THEY ARE FAR FROM INNOCENT)

Floyd 🫧:

Oh boy…

Well, here’s the thing, Floyd loves to squeeze people, but the other way around? He doesn’t prefer it…but you are his Shrimpy, so he’ll give you a pass…maybe, depending on his mood

He’ll look at you and laugh. Damn you look almost desperate. He lets you cling to him for a bit before he squeezes you back. Maybe you needed one of his “hugs” anyways…let’s just say he’s in a good mood this time

“Heh! Shrimpy…what are you doing? Oh? You seem sad…don’t be sad Shrimpy~! I can squeeze ya back too! See?”

He’s all over you, hugging, squeezing, nuzzling his face against yours. He’s all giggles, his Shrimpy is squeezing him first. It’s funny! It’s like you’re challenging him or something…

You never fail to cause trouble or stir fun around him, so he’ll stick around for a bit until it gets boring for him. Which in all honesty, it won’t.

Never boring with you around!

“Shrimpy! Aweee, cheer up! I’ll just squeeze ya harder, yea? If it helps ya feel better I will…just don’t squeeze me back too hard, you might hurt me…”

I fear my favoritism for Octavinelle always shines through…<3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[jybyls]

Freckles || J.O

Navigation

Synopsis: You love your girlfriend's freckles.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and some more fluff.

Words: 650~

- 📜🎧🍂 -

An early morning, curtains blocking the sun light so as not to bother you and your girlfriend's sleep. Her arms were securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her to feel your warmth. You slowly started to wake up, your eyes adjusting to the soft lighting in the room.

Your pupils dilated at the sight of your lover soundly sleeping next to you. She looked ever so peaceful. You did not want to distribute her resting, knowing how she usually struggled to have a good night's sleep. So you stayed there, in her arms, and didn't move, just admiring her beautiful features.

Your soft breathing matched hers while your fingers traced over her freckles. At this very moment, time seemed to have stopped. Just the both of you, lying in bed with nothing but comfort in your bubble where you felt ever so save.

Minutes went by, but you were still captived by her sweet speckles, so captived that you didn't realise she was waking up. Her eyes fluttered open at the sight of you, lovingly looking her the soft feeling of your fingers over her skin, caressing her in the tenderness way like you were scared you could break her. It made her feel, oh, so loved and cared for.

Your eyes finally met sleepy ones. However, it didn't take long for them to find their way back on her marbles. A faint laughter left. She couldn't understand why you liked this feature of hers so much, but your cute obsession made her heart melt every time. One day, you were enjoying a quiet evening in front of one of Jenna's movie recommendations, but obviously, you were more focused on those freckles than the movie. She noticed but didn't say anything about it until you spoke up to say, 'You should never eat lemon.' It was so random that it got her giggling before she asked you why only for you to respond that lemon makes freckles disappear and that you did not want her freckles to go anywhere. She only smiled and kissed your head as she reassured you that her freckles weren't going anywhere.

So it's safe to say she's used to your hyperfication on small details about her and, more specifically, her spots all over her breathtaking face. In fact, every week, your pure soul had something fetching to say about her freckles. It you would come to have a muse, it wouldn't only be the love of your life but also your favorite trait about her body.

Today was one of those days where you had a certain saying in that loving brain of yours that you, of course, wanted to share with your loved one.

Before even greeting her or asking her about her night, your mouth slightly opened for the words to fly out of it, "I like to think that they were so many stars in your eyes that they decided to spray out on your face and that's why you have freckles." Your finger was tracing the shape of her heart on her cheekbone, following what you now saw as stars. Jenna's poor heart had just woken to so much attention and preciousness coming from you that it almost exploded.

"That is a very lovely way to think, babe." She whispered, her hand caressing your messy hair. "I don't really need to try. You just make my brain come up with those things. Your looks and personality are poetic to me." Your tone shadowed hers. You were so effortlessly romantic. It was for her to keep up with you at times she would be overwhelmed in the best possible, too, but she didn't know how to answer those flatteries of yours besides giggling like a school girl.

You didn't mind either. You found it appealing. "I love you, freckles." You murmured, fondly smiling, "I love you, dummy." She grinned, playing with your hair.

You didn't compliment her to receive compliments back, you just wanted her to know how you perceived her.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: I love her freckles in case that wasn't clear. Wrote this in like 20 mins or some shit btw. Hope you're having a good day/night. Love y'all <3

[byeoltoyuki]

Try

↳ Pairing: Seungmin x reader

❧ Genre: rivals to lovers / romance / smut

❧ Words: +4k

❧ Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f)

❧Summary : Years ago, he used to be your enemy.

No. Enemy was too strong to describe what Kim Seungmin was to you. Your rival was a better term. He was everything you weren’t; friendly, funny and effortlessly brilliant. You loathed him for that. And yet, when you meet him again years later, you just can’t deny that there’s something else between you too.

❧ A/N : Honestly, this one comes out of nowhere. I just needed to write so here it comes ♥ Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♥

***

‘Trust your guts’.

It was your motto in life. A simple rule. And you abided by this rule half of your short lived life. But not tonight and you regretted it. Deeply.

The annual gathering with people from your college was an event your closest friends adored just so they could show some idiots that they had succeeded in life. You? You avoided it. An event you hated with all your heart. You always found excuses not to go. Your life depended on it.

Okay. Not really. Not your life at least. But definitely your ego.

You hated half of the people who attended the event. Back in college, they were so quick to judge, to talk behind your back and yet they expected you to be nice to them. To them, you were just a cold, nerdy girl with no friends. Someone they could easily mock. They hated your attitude. They hated your looks. But they also hated how easily you beat them every single time.

They were wrong.

Yes, you were a little nerdy back then, but you weren’t a cold person, just shy. And you had friends. Not many, but you didn’t need many to feel good. To be happy. Those you had, stuck by your side and they also happened to be the reason you had finally agreed to come to the gathering. You just couldn’t say no to Hyunjin and Yeji, not when those two formed an alliance against you. You had no chance against them.

You sighed to yourself. Would it be rude to grab your purse and leave? One nasty look from Hyunjin, as if he could read your mind, and you gulped nervously. Apparently it was. You slumped further into your chair and tried to keep up with the conversation. Same boring conversation. ‘Where do you currently work?’ ‘Are you soon getting married?’ ‘I’ve bought a house!’ Why did it have to be a competition? Couldn't they just enjoy a nice gathering and the meal?

“Hyunjin, I heard you’re flying to Paris for the fashion week.” Seoah were almost drooling as she spoke to Hyunjin. You cringed. She couldn’t make it even more obvious that she wasn’t just admiring him. No, she had something else on mind. Too bad, Hyunjin was a taken man even if she didn’t know that.

He smiled into his drink. “Yes, tomorrow.” He put his glass back on the table and glanced smugly at a silently fuming Juwon who always hated Hyunjin’s popularity. “I was actually supposed to leave today, but I couldn’t miss our annual gathering! It’s good to see you guys.”

What a liar. You had to bite your lips not to laugh at his words.

Juwon cleared his throat and averted his attention on you. Hell no. “You look different.” For once, it didn’t sound like an insult but you were still weary of him. No nice words coming out of his mouth could make you forget what kind of asshole he was. And you had a hard time to believe that he had actually changed.

“Do I?” You did look different from the past. You used not to care about your looks. Who cared how you looked as long as you had good grades? You certainly didn’t. Neither did your friends. But it changed. Ever since you started working at your art gallery, you understood the importance of how others perceived you. You learnt to do your makeup right. You took care of your long hair. And you changed your whole wardrobe. You got classier. And maybe tonight you put an extra effort to look good. Not that you needed to impress anyone, but you did it anyway.

“It suits you!” Another woman commented, genuinely excited. You couldn’t remember her name but you thanked her with a smile.

Yeji eyed you from the other side of the big table, thumbs up, her eyes telling you silently ‘told you so’. You ignored her. Just because you could.

“I wonder with what kind of man you ended.” Juwon was too curious for his own good.

“Oh come on.” Seoah laughed as if the idea of you dating was ridiculous. “I bet she’s still single.”

How typical of her to assume. Not that she was wrong, but her comment still pissed you. Did she think you were still the same woman as back in college? Just because right at this moment, you were indeed single, didn’t mean you refused dating. You did and got tired of it. Every relationship you had, always started nice, romantic even, but always ended the same way: you breaking up with the guy. They were nice men who truly cared for you but there was just something missing.

However, before you could share a piece of your mind with Seoah, you were interrupted.

“Sorry guys, I’m late!”

That voice.

That stupidly, annoying voice. Your whole body reacted; you shuddered, unable to breath, unable to think properly.

Kim Seungmin.

Here came a man you wished you could avoid for the rest of your life. You knew, your hatred for him was irrational. Compare to others, he had never done anything to you. Seungmin never mocked you, never made any bad comments. But he was your rival. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how many hours you spent in the library, studying, he still beat you every single time. It drove you crazy. But what made everything tenths time worse was the fact that Seungmin quickly caught on your little game and it amused him. You hated him for that too.

“You’re right on time!” Juwon pushed a chair for him. “We’ve been discussing Y/N’s love life!” His gaze slid to you and smirked. “Or lack of it.” Yep. Still an asshole, you were right.

Seungmin quirked a brow at Juwon’s words. You felt his eyes on you. On your face, on your neck, on your arms. Your skin burned under his gaze but you refused to acknowledge his presence for the sake of your sanity.

Maybe a tiny part of you expected Seungmin to comment Juwon’s words, maybe even laugh at it. But he did none of that. Instead you felt him only closer to you which made your unease grow with every passing seconds.

“Do you mind if we switch places?” Seungmin asked the girl beside you, taking the two of you completely off guard.

You opened your mouth, a protest on the tip of your tongue but the girl beside you was faster. She hurried to leave her spot. Seungmin flashed her a pretty smile and sat right next to you. Despite you wanting to avoid him, now that he sat so close to you, your arm brushing his, there was no escape. Now that you were staring right into his pretty, annoying, eyes, you knew: you were fucked.

“As for what you said Juwon. Lack of love life?” Seungmin repeated his words. He moved a little closer to you and before you could push him away, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you against him. “How come you didn’t tell them about us, babe?”

Loud gasps followed by whispers.

What.

What the actual fuck?!

If from outside you looked perfectly composed, at least to those who didn’t know you well enough, inside you were completely freaking out. His words made no sense. His body, his warmth that should have repelled you, felt actually nice.

Kim Seungmin was trying to help you. You heard him. You understood what he was saying but you didn’t understand why. You weren’t friends, not even close and you hadn’t seen each other for so long. I’ll deal with you later.

Something was wrong with you too because instead of pushing him away, you leant into him and accepted his help. “Because they wouldn’t have believed me. Should I remind you that we used to hate each other?” You reminded him and playfully poked his side.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips so close to yours – you gulped but didn’t avert your eyes from his face. How annoyingly pretty he looked with his eyes shining brightly with mischief. Fine, he was helping you but he was clearly having fun too.

“Wrong.” He said and kissed the corner of your lips.

Gasps again.

Your heart skipped a beat. The corner of your lips tingled and you found yourself wishing his lips had stayed longer. What the actual fuck, Y/N. This whole night was a terrible idea and you kept making bad decisions. Getting drunk and hoping to forget everything seemed like a good idea right now.

“I never hated you.” He added and pulled back to face the others as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at them. And at you. “What’s up?”

And just like that they started talking again. But you heard none of that. All you could hear was the sound of your roaring heart. All you could feel was the lingering feeling of his lips. All you could think about was Seungmin and this thing going on between the two of you tonight. ‘I never hated you.’ Fine. Maybe he never did but you weren’t on best terms either. You wanted to take him outside and talk to him. Was it his attempt at messing with you? Or was he really just being genuinely nice?

You noticed Hyunjin and Yeji staring at you, questions in their eyes. You didn’t blame them. They had to know none of it was real, they were your best friends. You wouldn’t have hidden something as big as dating Kim Seungmin from them.

“And you Yeji?” Seungmin’s voice brought you back from your reverie. “I heard your new song, it’s really nice.” You wanted to concentrate on what he was saying since he was talking about your friend. You couldn’t. Not when he put his hand on your thigh. Not when he made it look so natural. Not when, despite it happening under the table, it attracted attention on the two of you again.

It should feel wrong. In fact, you should be appalled by his boldness. You didn’t. It felt awfully nice. And right. Instead of pushing him away, you simply watch him talking. You didn’t want to admire his face but it was hard not to. Even if you weren’t fond of him, you weren’t blind. Kim Seungmin was handsome. Pretty eyes, pretty nose and even prettier mouth. Without realizing it, you licked your lips, wondering how it would feel against yours. Or at any other part of your body.

Oh my god. Did they put something in my drink? There’s no way I’m thinking about him. But you were.

Seungmin squeezed your thigh, the palm of his hand feeling suddenly too hot against your skin. He forgot all about his friends and leant closer. “If you keep staring at me like that we might have a problem.” He warned you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t ignore how your face flushed. “When did you get so bold?” You whispered in return.

Seungmin smiled in response. A smile so beautiful, so bright, you wanted to keep it for yourself.

“Growing up does that to a person.” He whispered, his lips brushed your ear. “And also, you look really pretty tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from spreading all over your face even if you tried.

Kim Seungmin was a menace. But a very beautiful and annoying one.

“Okay, that’s enough.” One of the guy groaned. “Get a room. Some of us are sadly single and you two are just disgusting.”

Seungmin laughed heartily and unfortunately for you pulled away from you. A tiny part of you was relieved for the space, but another part of you almost whined at the loss of his warmth. Yeah, there was something wrong with you.

****

Somehow you managed to survive through the whole meal without a fight, without people trying to mess with you. In fact, you even managed to laugh a few times and it wasn’t just because of your friends’ jokes. And maybe it had everything to do with Seungmin.

“Should I drive you home?” Hyunjin whispered to your ear, making sure that nobody heard you.

It was the plan. You came with them and you were supposed to leave with them. You glanced at Seungmin and you couldn’t believe yourself: you were hesitating. You could leave with your friends but then you wouldn’t be able to talk to him and have a chance to thank him for his help.

Seungmin was faster to react. “I’ll take her home. Right babe?” He grabbed your jacket from your chair and waited for you.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his words, tempted to pull you back against him. You patted his back. “I should go with Seungmin.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, surprised with your answer. You gave him a small smile and promised to text him and Yeji later.

Seungmin waited for you. Your body moved on its own accord. When you were close enough, Seungmin helped you to put your jacket on. You were thankful he couldn’t see your flushed face.

“There. All good.” He told you. “Are you ready?”

You were not.

***

You didn’t want the drive to your place to be awkward but it was. You didn’t know how to start the conversation with him. You knew nothing about this Kim Seungmin or how to deal with him.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said awkwardly without looking at him.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him glance at you. You expected him to make a comment, to make it easier for you but he didn’t. He returned his attention to the road. Damn him.

You sighed and slumped further into your seat. “I still don’t understand why you helped me.” This time, you looked at him.

Seungmin shrugged. “They were being dicks for no good reason.”

True, they were but it wasn’t anything new. Seungmin never stood up for you before so why now? “You didn’t need to pretend though.” He could have said anything but no, he chose to play your fake boyfriend instead.

Seungmin parked the car by the entrance of your building and then fully faced you. His eyes sparked with delight and something else. “I admit; it wasn’t my plan. But then, I had one look at you and couldn’t help myself.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “So you were messing with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

So damn infuriating. You hurried to unbuckle your seatbelt and opened the door.

“I wasn’t joking you know.” Seungmin stopped you with his words, realizing that if he wanted for you to talk to him, he needed to be genuine. “I never hated you.” He sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I loved how competitive you were. When I realized how clever you were, it pushed me to work harder, to make sure I stayed on the top. And maybe to annoy you a little too. I remember how you used to scrunch your nose whether you saw I got a better grade than you. So adorable.” He smiled at the memory.

Seungmin left you speechless. Why was he making it sound like he was actually fond of you? And why the hell did his words melted you on the spot? You needed to hurry up; grab your purse and leave this car before you did something unthinkable. But as you stepped outside of his car, your body froze, refusing to leave. I’m losing my mind, that’s it.

“Give me your phone.” You turned back and outstretched your hand. It was a bad idea. Terrible idea. But then again, it was just another one to add to the list of bad ideas. Who cared?

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. You refused to delve on the matter as you quickly saved your number in his phone. “Call me when you want.”

‘And maybe soon.’ But you didn’t say it.

***

You barely made it inside your flat – your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at your phone, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t want to think it could be Seungmin. But were you hoping? Maybe.

“Hi.” You instantly recognized his gentle voice.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at his eagerness. “You know, usually people wait few days to call back.”

“Open your door.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Too taken aback, you did as he asked without thinking. And here he was. “Did you follow me?!”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. I-“

Was he nervous? “What are you doing, Seungmin?”

Seungmin took a deep breath and took a step inside your flat. The right thing to do would be to tell him to leave. It was too soon and you weren’t in the right mind. You did none of that.

“I’m desperate.” He admitted.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you. You knew that if you let him get too close to you, something could happen. And you didn’t completely dislike the idea. Seungmin halted right before you. His eyes blazed with so much intensity, you gulped nervously.

Gently, Seungmin took your hand and pulled it toward him to press against his chest. You jolted, surprised to feel his heartbeat. Wild. Strong. And his hand so warm. “I was a coward in college and missed my chance. I can’t do it a second time, Y/N. I can’t let you slip between my fingers again.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between your hand against his chest and his eyes. “Are you confessing, Seungmin?”

“What if I am?” He dared you, his grip on your hand tightened. Maybe a little part of him was actually scared of rejection. But he held strong.

You could pull away from him and forget his words.

You could, but you didn’t.

His words stirred something inside you. It made you curious. What if instead of looking for a guy that was nice, you went for the guy who loved to compete with you? A guy who, without you even realizing it, pushed you to be the best version of yourself? You had nothing to lose. So you did something completely out of your character. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, feeling all of him against you. His body strong and firm against you.

“I’d say you need to show me just how much you like me.”

Seungmin growled at your words and instead of answering you, he claimed your mouth. So eager. So desperate. There was nothing sweet about this kiss and you didn’t mind. Seungmin poured years of frustration and need into the kiss. Poured all his feelings, his longing and you gladly took it all.

You moved through the room without breaking the kiss until your thighs met the edge of your table. You didn’t think twice as you sat on top of it, spreading your legs for him to settle against you. You felt it then, how hard he was, how much he wanted you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t wet and excited for what he could do to you.

Seungmin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

You thought it was sweet that he still tried to control himself. That he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable with him touching you. If only he knew how bad you needed him right now. “Hundred per cent sure.” You confirmed and pecked his nose.

“Well then,” Seungmin’s lips moved from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, to your jaw. “I think I want a dessert.” He kissed your shoulder and gently slid the straps of your dress exposing your aching breasts. “So beautiful.” He licked his way from one breast to another – he took one of your breasts in his mouth, playing with you, teasing you.

You moaned softly, your hand nestled in his hair, you pushed his head against your chest. You were right, his mouth felt perfect against your skin and you thought it would be so easy to get addicted. “Touch me.” You begged, the throbbing between your legs getting too much.

“I’m touching you.” He teased, knowing damn well where you needed him the most.

“Seungmin.” You groaned and tug at his hair.

He groaned and bit playfully on your nipple. “Be nice.” With that he hiked your dress higher. He grabbed your panties and tore them off you.

You gasped loudly. “Did you just tear my panties?!”

He chuckled. “Sorry.” He was definitely not sorry judging by his smirk. You took note to make him pay later for it.

Seungmin spread your legs wider and licked his lips at your exposed pussy glistening with your wetness. “Look at that. Already so wet and I barely touched you.” He teased your sweet pussy by dragging a finger from your clit to your entrance, loving how you shivered at this simple touch.

“Seungmin, please.” You begged shamelessly and pushed your hips, needing to feel more.

“Do you want that?” He pushed his fingers deep inside you. So easily. In and out. Slower at first and then faster, watching as you threw your head back, your lips parted. Your soft moans filled the room and it was the sweetest melody to his ears.

Slowly, Seungmin dropped to his knees. Your dizzy mind barely registered what he was doing – he gently scraped his teeth over your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing. The moment he wrapped his lips around your clit, you lost it.  A loud moan escaped your lips. He feasted on you eagerly; his mouth, his fingers, he was slowly driving you crazy and you could only beg for more.

“Oh my god, Seungmin.” You mewled and ground against his face.

He was good. Too good. His mouth was divine. He worked his magic so well, you could feel your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“I’m so close. Please.”

Seungmin hummed against your pussy. “Come then.”

And you did. Your whole body trembled as your orgasm washed over you. But he didn’t stop. Seungmin kept sucking on your clit, enjoying how you writhed and tried to pull him away from you, too sensitive from your orgasm.

Seungmin straightened up and slowly pulled out his fingers from your pussy. He watched you, smiling lazily as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

“Shit.” You clenched around nothing at the sight. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so sinful.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into another bruising kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I need you inside me right now.”

“So bossy.” He chuckled, “What if I want to play more with you?”

You considered it for a moment. You wouldn’t mind him playing with you. But right now, you wanted him buried deep inside you. You wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember why in the hell you considered him as your enemy for so long. Wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember your name.

You reached between your bodies and started working on his belt and then his zipper. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to play with me later.”

Seungmin arched a brow, amused with your confession. “Will I?”

“Hell yeah.” You grabbed his cock. He was hard and angry and dripping pre-cum. You salivated at the sight. Kim Seungmin was perfect and you were dying to find out how hard he could ruin you. “Please, wreck me?” You asked as nicely as you could manage.

Seungmin shook his head, laughing fondly. “How can I say no to you?”

Seungmin drove into you. One deep thrust that made you grab his arms, holding for your dear life.

“Fuck.” You moaned and tried to compose yourself. He felt perfect, stretching you, filling you just like you needed.

Seungmin dragged his cock slowly at first, letting you time to adjust and maybe also trying to compose himself. Despite all his talk about playing, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted to lose control and drive you mad. “You were made for me, Y/N.” He grunted, his control slipping little by little. “Fuck.”

“Don’t hold back, please.” Who cared if he ruined you? Who cared if you couldn’t walk tomorrow? You didn’t.

And he didn’t. Seungmin slammed back into you. His thrusts hard. Deep. Reaching all the right spots. Making you cry out his name. Making you whimper. “You are so fucking perfect.” He hissed as you clenched around him.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t know what you begged for anymore. Was for him to go harder? To go deeper? To slow down? You couldn’t tell. Your mind was overwhelmed. Your body was burning.

Seungmin kept a brutal rhythm, his thrusts vicious, his grip on your body strong, fingers digging into your skin. It would leave marks and you could only wish for more. Let the world see that someone made you feel so good. Let the world see that you belonged to him.

His hand reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit. There was no escape. You came in a loud cry, wildly, explosively, your body shaking. Seungmin fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppier, his grunts louder, seeking his own release.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and claimed his mouth, swallowing his groan as he came deep inside you, trembling against you.

Seungmin rested his head in the crook of your head, panting. For a moment, you didn’t talk and savored just the moment and the press of your sweaty bodies. It felt nice. It felt good. Perfect.

With your orgasm came clarity. “Why haven’t we done it sooner?” You laughed.

Seungmin bit on your collarbone in response. “Because we had other priorities in college.”

That you did. “What a shame.” You sighed dramatically. “Guess we have some serious catch up to do, don’t you think?”

[kyriefae]

Before I move on to The Flux in my Thirteen Era Rewatch, I have to take this moment to call out Ryan Sinclair!

Ryan & The Doctor were such good friends.

I'm not just saying that they were good like two people who get along. They were good for each other. Honestly, after how RTD wrote Ruby and Belinda's relationship with The Doctor, the whole Fam is that much more refreshing. They're a support network!

Wow is that why so many people hate on this era?? Are you just not entertained by people who legitimately help each other become the best versions of themselves? Lol oof pocketing that one for later... 😂

These two are truly underrated for their chemistry. They share plenty of comedic moments together and Ryan's scene with The Doctor in his last episode, The Revolution of the Daleks, is so candid. He shows so much maturity. It even becomes clearer that after he leaves, his reason for leaving is having found purpose in the time since being parted with the Tardis.

He knows he is needed by his friends. He feels important to the planet. He sees an opportunity to help in a way that flying around on the Tardis feels a bit like...running away from it all. He found purpose and he's going to run in its direction not the other 'round.

I love you, Ryan Sinclair.

Woah, whoops...how'd that picture get uploaded right here? 😳 *clearing throat; knocking things over in a rush*

This guy was an adorable ball of energy when he wasn't being Mr. Cool standing behind his Granddad taking in the whole of the universe. Just seeing sights and winning at FIFA against his mate. 😄

His most notable moments aside are definitely being the object of King James's affection, his big brother moment with Ada, when he emotionally supported a man he'd only just met give birth (so help me if y'all don't see the beauty of that moment from a science fiction and queer perspective), his conveyor belt moment in Kerblam!, his cute and dorky reaction to meeting Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, the gadget bit in Spyfall, and the time he blew up a bunch of Cybermen on a dying world stranded in time and space.

Hey, I get it if you don't have taste and wanna be like "but he wasn't that well written" or "he was such a background character for most of the show" but I think it helps to pay attention to moments when they happen on screen. I'd say erase your biases too but that's not as easy of a solution. They're not exactly visible or easily perceived. Ryan Sinclair's bright and shining face, however, is right there! Clear as can be 😉 Just look at it!

Did you look?

...lol okay I'm done being a goober.

Here's to you, Ryan Sinclair (and Tosin Cole for playing the role)!

Bonus points for his last scene with Graham in their finale. He keeps trying; he keeps fighting to conquer his dispraxia. He isn't magically gifted with the ability to overcome it as a result of having traveled with The Doctor or anything like that; he simply has to keep at it. That's a highly motivating and emotionally validating subplot and it neatly coalesces with the grief of his grandmother. He's never weighed down by it because he and Graham learned how to open themselves up in their time with the Doctor. That vulnerability and the community that strengthens us in sight of grief becomes their parting gift.

What a lovely ending for a pair of lovely boys.

[shibaincubus]

How to stop being a doormat.-

-> . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [By a healed people pleaser] ࿐ྂ

Being nice to others is not a bad trait, but becoming THE NICE GIRL is.

Excessive people pleasing brings you nowhere and makes you vulnerable to becoming a doormat, disrespect, and sacrificing yourself.

People pleasing isn’t just about being nice to everyone all the time; it actually messes with your head and how you think about yourself deep down. 

We can look at people pleasing from an conscious and subconscious side.

Conscious People pleasing

This is what we typically associate with people pleasing:

You can't say no: Every request feels like an obligation.

You prioritize others over yourself: Your needs take a backseat.

You apologize for everything: Even when it’s unnecessary.

You avoid conflicts: Peace at any cost, right?

You make yourself small: Shrinking your presence to fit in.

Subconscious people pleasing

This is the impact people pleasing has on your mindset and behaviours

While breaking people pleasing one should focus here more

Servant mindset -> catering to others drains your energy.

Emulating others ->  You lose sight of who you truly are.

Seeking validation: "I need to be ... to get validation 'love' from others

Ignoring your feelings: Suppressing your emotions to keep the peace.

Feeling judged: Worrying about what others think of you.

Anxiousness about acceptance: "Do they really like me?"

The Why of People pleasing

The first step in breaking free is understanding why you engage in people pleasing.

Here are some common reasons:

You might be people pleasing because of...

Anxiety: fear of disappointing others or rejection

Low self esteem: "pleasing others is the only way to get acceptance and love"

Past trauma: can link others' needs to safety and affection

Cultural or family expectations: Pressure from those around you.

Perfectionism:  The need to be flawless in the eyes of others.

Insecurity: Doubting your own worthiness.

Avoidance of Conflict: Preferring peace over confrontation.

To get the exact cause you should also utilise journaling.

Use 15 min. for three or more of these journaling prompts each

Does People pleasing really help me? How do I feel when I please people? Happy or drained?

Do I get something back by pleasing people. Is it one sided?

What is my earliest memory of people pleasing? Why did I decide to please people at that time?

How do I perceive the people that I please in reality? Do I even like them.

What is the thing I really want in this situation that I might feel too scared, vulnerable, or ashamed to ask for?

What is one thing that I'm scared people will think of me, and how is this actually true and useful for me?

What do I want to change about my people pleasing habit

This reflection makes it clear why we do it and what caused people pleasing to be ingrained in us in the first place.

Recovering from People pleasing

Start small.-

Begin by setting boundaries in low stakes situations

declining invitations to events etc.

declining requests that you don't have time or desire to do

Gradually work yourself up to more significant situations practicing assertiveness along the way.

Learn to tolerate discomfort

Recognise that asserting yourself and setting boundaries may initially feel uncomfortable or cause anxiety

Embrace the discomfort as a sign of growth and remind yourself that it's necessary to prioritize your own well being.

Strengthen your sense of self

When we are people pleasing we are placing our self worth on another person

With journaling, self care, setting personal goals and new hobbies, you can construct and identity independent of others opinions.

The Intention Interrogation

Ask yourself a specific question before agreeing to a request:

"Am I doing this because I genuinely want to, or because I'm afraid of potential consequences?" 

This can delay automatic people pleasing reflexes

Cut toxic people off

If someone is using you for their gain, it’s time to create distance.

Limit your availability and emotional investment

Create space between yourself and toxic relationships

And Trust your instincts

The 24-Hour Rule

Make it a commitment to not immediately respond to requests.

Give yourself a full day and then decide if you actually want to do this.

Get therapy

If people pleasing has a deep impact socially or otherwise on you consider therapy

It's really helpful against people pleasing if nothing else helps

That's it lovelies

People pleasing is a destructive social mechanism of ours that we developed in young years.

Unfolding these behaviours and taking a stance against pleasing others frees ourself for positive change and levelling ourselves up

[franzivonkarma]

I desperately need people to understand that Franziska's whipping thing really isn't solely a silly character gimmick. Of course it is to a degree, just like Godot and coffee and Klavier and air guitar in court, but so often I see people dismiss Franziska's whipping trait as an annoying feature that adds nothing to her character and I cannot stand it. This is a bit of a rant and I touch on gender inequality and the way I see a lot of men treat her as a character a decent amount within this because I feel like the fact that she is a woman is actually very important to this element of her character, and her treatment is also a lot of the reason why I feel compelled to talk about this in the first place.

Firstly what you need to understand is that not only is Franziska a woman, she is also laughably young when she becomes a prosecutor. She's a 13 year old girl trying to hold the attention of a courtroom of mostly grown men and be taken seriously. It's no secret that misogyny does exist in the Ace Attorney universe of course (see: Godot), but aside from this, maybe it's just because I've been playing Ace Attorney Investigations recently, but she is just very small all around. It's a running gag in Turnabout Reminiscence that she is short, she's small, she can't see things Edgeworth can - although granted Edgeworth is definitely fairly tall, most estimates I've seen linger around 5'8-5'10 (around 170-180cm). And of course, she is only 13 here, she's not done growing, but it's at this age that she actually did begin to prosecute. Naturally, she'd often be underestimated, and we can see a strong desire to prove herself during Turnabout Reminiscence, even just to her father; I can only imagine that this would extend further into her trials as a young girl. Secondly, she's the daughter of Manfred von Karma, whom she idolises to a godlike status and who teaches her everything she knows about prosecuting, and also a lot about life in general - he's her father. There's a lot I could say about their dynamic, but I feel that much of it doesn't need to be said in this specific post if you're already here dedicated to Franziska enough to bother reading this post.

Manfred's courtroom (and often, regular) behaviour revolves a lot around him taking complete control of the entire courtroom, with him even speaking over the judge, overruling objections he does not like and sustaining his own, and instructing witnesses himself. He also often snaps his fingers to direct attention to himself and his point. Franziska learns this, but how does a literal 13 year old girl follow her father in this regard? Well, by force. Whipping someone is a very clear way to get their attention. Not only the person it hits but the people around - whips cracking are loud, they take up a lot of visual space, and they also obviously cause harm to the person they hit. These are all things you can't really ignore - it forces you to look at her and pay attention to her and gives her control of the room exactly like Manfred. I've also been thinking a lot about the end of Justice For All in relation to this. She's lost to Phoenix multiple times and she couldn't beat him even once just to prove that she was better than Edgeworth as she so desperately wanted to. This brings me to another point about her use of her whip. While I think control is a huge aspect and is my main focus here, I think it falls more under the umbrella of Franziska's own perceived shortcomings. We also know that she doesn't believe she lives up to her father's genius, and that she consistently feels like she's walking in Edgeworth's shadow, she says it herself:

I think at least some part of the reason her whip is so important is because she believes she could very well be less than equal to others in the room in terms of certain traits. She sees her father as a genius, knows she isn't equal to him, and internalises this (whether she is actually less intelligent or not I personally don't know what I believe, I haven't played Justice For All in over a year and a half and I would have to replay it to decide my thoughts).

In having to be perfect, there are many expectations she cannot live up to, and this leads to many ways in which she falls short of what she believes she should be. By using her whip, again, she can account for her perceived shortcomings in other areas - control, her intelligence, her ability as a prosecutor. I think this last scene of JFA actually introduces us to the idea that Franziska is somewhat self-doubting in some ways and compares herself a lot with others, not just Manfred, but also Edgeworth, which we see more of in Ace Attorney Investigations during Turnabout Reminiscence, where we see her at 13 attempting to prove that she can "out-logic" Edgeworth for the entire case, and essentially, that she is "more perfect" than he is.

But to come back to her whip, control, and the end of Justice For All.

She is left with little of who she was before and doesn't know how to move on - everything she was taught to be from the moment she was born, she no longer is. She is 18 here, prosecuting for 5 years already and desperate to be prosecuting for even longer. As far as her life was set out, this was basically it for her - become a perfect prosecutor and prosecute perfectly just like Manfred - the ideal prosecutor in her eyes.

A Von Karma is perfect, but she is not - she lost, just like Edgeworth, whom she shamed for the same thing. She gives up her whip here, and I feel that it's truly symbolic of how she feels like she's completely lost control of herself, her life, her relationship with her father and most obviously her occupation as a prosecutor. How could she continue being a prosecutor when she no longer lives up to the idea of it that she's had her entire life? What use is her whip if she will not need to hold the court's attention any longer?

I'm sure a million other people have thrown their coin in the pot on this exact topic, and I'm sure many have said the same thing as me and many have said something different, but I needed to write my thoughts out about it because I couldn't stop thinking about her. This is one big reason why I feel like I see a lot of men who don't understand Franziska and see her as very annoying, gimmicky, and my least favourite - a "female Edgeworth." She is a woman who steals attention and space forcibly; both from characters in-game, and also from the player with her animations that take up time in trials and a lot of the visual space. Of course this makes her unpopular with a lot of men. I'm not saying that if you dislike her or the whip it comes from a place of misogyny, I am saying that I think her whipping trait is reduced to a stupid, annoying gimmick more than, say, Godot and his coffee, because a lot of people don't really care to see that there is intention behind it that reveals a lot about her character, just like how Godot's coffee problem is relevant to his backstory.

[inkedover]

Bon Appétit!

^ no 1x1x1x1 doesn't say this in the fic because I only thought of the joke now. *sigh*

uh. joking mention of bodies. foul language. nothing explicit or anything, it's a silly crack/comfort fic.

long. like. 3k+ words methinks. open at your own risk.

It still greatly disturbed 1x1x1x1, learning about the fact that his older sibling was alive. Maybe not well,but they were alive…that's what mattered.

The Spectre had revived them. Intended on twisting (Y/N) into something they weren't. Something like him. But its plan had gone awry, all based off of the fact that his lovely sibling was simply far too pure to be tainted in such a way. Perhaps the nature of their resurrection contributed to this incorruptible phenomenon as well…

But that didn't matter now. 1x1x1x1 couldn't care less, honestly. He was just happy to have them back…to be able to be held by them, comforted by them. To be reminded of the fact that he wasn't alone. It was so…freeing.

And now here he was, finally relaxing for once and…cooking in the kitchen? Was making food one of the only things he was passionate for (other than killing people)? Maybe. But it was a far more healthy outlet than slaughtering the masses, let the man cook in peace.

The other killers were sitting a ways away, most of them only musing eating to distract themselves until the next round. Azure, Jason, Noli, and John Doe didn't even need to eat, and c00lkidd enjoyed eating because it made him feel like he was normal. So why not cook for them? It was almost like an enrichment activity for 1x1x1x1 in a weird, silly way.

In the meantime, basically everybody was getting used to the fact that (Y/N) was actually living withthem now. None of the other killers perceived them as a survivor, so there wasn't any real risk of them being attacked, but it wasn't like they were a killer either…the strange in-between had caused majority of the other killers to distance themselves from (Y/N). Excluding 1x1x1x1 and-…c00lkidd, surprisingly enough.

(Y/N) was entertaining c00lkidd as 1x1x1x1 cooked up breakfast- lunch-…whatever time of day it was. Did it even matter anymore? Anyway- (Y/N) was letting c00lkidd play with their respawn rings, carefully watching the 'little' boy as he spun them around and pushed and pulled them together.

As this happened, (Y/N) glanced up at 1x1x1x1, calling out pleasantly to their younger brother. "1x? What are you even cooking? It seems kind of…impossible to obtain ingredients here."

1x1x1x1 turned around slowly at the sound of his sibling's voice, his single red eye flashing menacingly for a moment before softening the tiniest bit. He glanced over at them almost in disbelief, as if every fiber in his body still refused to believe in the fact that they actually existed.

His gaze then drifted back down to the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with a…questionable mix of ingredients. The Spectre had provided them with an assortment of uhhhhh. Maybe edible things. Maybe. Things that shouldn't exist, and things that don't really make sense in the first place. Did anything truly make sense anymore, though?

1x1x1x1 shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm making a secret recipe. One that I made up. It's…" He paused, contemplating his options. 1x1x1x1 wasn't really sure how receptive (Y/N) would be hearing the list of weird materials- errr, 'ingredients'- in the stew.

No. Best to keep that to himself. The specifics could wait. "Just some local ingredients. Like…uh…"

1x1x1x1 paused, wondering what he could say. Eventually he just cleared his throat, settling on dodging the question entirely. "It's almost done. Don't worry about it."

He turned back to the stove, carefully stirring the dark, viscous liquid. With the way he hunched over the burner it kind of looked like he was a witch making a potion of unimaginable evils. And the broth kind of made it look like a potion of unimaginable evils too. But...that wasn't the case. It was just a meal. A really…really questionable meal, sure. But a meal nonetheless.

As 1x1x1x1 stirred, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of warmth. Of comfort. There was a certain aura that (Y/N) had, one that put him at ease. It made him feel...alive. In a way that the mindless slaughter he'd become so partial to never could.

"…like…I'm not eating dead people, am I?" (Y/N) asked, clearly joking but still having a slightly suspicious edge to their tone. They sent a sidelong glance to the killers sitting across the table from them, squinting slightly before turning their gaze back to 1x1x1x1. Their spawn halo spun slowly above their head, as if it was reacting to their emotions and reflecting their somewhat accusatory thoughts.

"Don't get me wrong! I'll still eat it anyway! But like…you know…I like knowing what I'm eating. It's up to you, though! You don't need to tell me what's in it. Just…curious, is all." (Y/N) then backtracked quickly, waving their hands with a nervous grin as they shook their head and huffed softly. It was simultaneously kind of funny and cute how much they wished to not hurt 1x1x1x1's feelings despite him being…well, the manifestation of Shedletsky's hatred.

1x1x1x1 blinked slowly, his single red eye flickering as he processed (Y/N)'s question. For a moment, he considered folding and just telling them the actual list of ingredients he had used to create this culinary abomination.

Instead, a smirk spread across his face. Not one of genuine malice, just playfulness. Perhaps even a hint of teasing. It was genuinely odd for the other killers to see 1x1x1x1 acting like this, but nobody dared voice these thoughts aloud. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 1x1x1x1 replied simply, snorting quietly as he did so.

He turned to face (Y/N) fully for a moment, the crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at (Y/N) in a clearly joking manner. The chains hanging from his frame clinked softly together with the movement. "It's a super secret recipe, (Y/N). I can't just tell you when the other killers could overhear…"

His gaze drifted to the killers sitting nearby, his face genuinely falling for a moment as he scowled at them. The others were minding their own businesses, trying to avoid 1x1x1x1's ire (nobody wanted to deal with a pissy manifestation of hatred, after all).

Turning back to (Y/N), 1x1x1x1's smile returned as he chuckled at them. "I can assure you, older sibling, that there aren't any wayward souls present in my cooking. At least, not that I'm aware of." He then deliberately paused, jokingly letting the tension rise for a moment as he leaned in conspiratorially."Don't worry. It won't bite."

His tone was joking, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity to it. 1x1x1x1's attempt at being comforting was a bit misplaced, but that didn't mean that (Y/N) couldn't appreciate it at least a little bit.

"…'not that you're aware of' implies that you don't know what you're cooking with…" (Y/N) mumbled, although they lost that train of thought when c00lkidd clambered onto their lap and starting begging for their attention. They dutifully turned their attention to the boy now sitting on their lap, thinking for a moment before offering to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with c00lkidd, chuckling softly at his eagerness to play.

(Y/N) had managed to collect another younger brother after being introduced to the killers, that being c00lkidd. He found them utterly fascinating for some reason, and (Y/N) was more than happy to indulge in c00lkidd's little games and roughhousing (although 1x1x1x1 absolutely detested it whenever his older sibling engaged in said roughhousing, worried they'd get injured or worse).

…c00lkidd was lucky that 1x1x1x1 actually thought he was silly and somewhat tolerable, otherwise he might've personally strangled the little boy for taking up so much of his precious sibling's attention.

1x1x1x1 watched as (Y/N) played with c00lkidd, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. Jealousy? No, that couldn't be right. He didn't get jealous. At least, never in this sense.

But seeing his sibling so happily going along with c00lkidd's whims, almost like they were pretending that they were actually related to the little red idiot. Playing with that little brat like they were best friends, hell, he'd seen them comforting c00lkidd after the little boy had a nightmare! It pissed him off. Irrationally so.

1x1x1x1 shook his head, banishing the thoughts. No. He couldn't be mad, not at that…his childhood might've been ripped out of his hands, but that didn't necessarily mean that c00lkidd deserved the same treatment.

Besides, c00lkidd was unfortunately cute. In an annoying, obnoxious, hyperactive way. But it was clear that the kid had grown on him. Only a tiny bit. He would never admit that he was beginning to tolerate and maybe even like c00lkidd.

1x1x1x1 shook his head, focusing back onto the absurdity that he called a meal. It was thick, viscous, and had mystery chunks suspended in its black depths. It actually kind of looked like tar. 1x1x1x1 blinked, now having second thoughts about serving this to his sibling…before shaking off his hesitance and pouring a few bowls of it for himself and the others.

The bowls clinked as he set them down on the table, and he noticeably placed down (Y/N)'s bowl more carefully. As he did so, he heard the sound of c00lkidd giggling loudly. 1x1x1x1 rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. The kid was insufferable…not as bad as the others, since his behavior was entirely innocent and unintentional, but it still pissed 1x1x1x1 off.

Even with the gentle placement the dark liquid sloshed slightly, threatening to spill over the sides. It actually started bubbling when it finally settled, steaming and uh…looking slightly inedible. Only slightly. Only a little bit.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "Eat up. Before it gets cold."

He sat down across from them, eyeing his own bowl suspiciously. He wasn't even sure if it was any good, or if it was even food in the first place…but he hoped (Y/N) would like it. They had good taste, both in food and in people.

1x1x1x1 glanced up at his sibling, catching their eye. "Enjoy. Please."

(Y/N) held 1x1x1x1's gaze, staring at him with furrowed brows and a strained smile. They glanced between the bowl and their younger brother before taking in a deep breath, and he couldn't tell whether or not they were holding in laughter or were about to start crying. It truly was a 50/50 with (Y/N). "…1x…I love you…but…are you trying to feed me petroleum?"

The question hung in the air, mostly joking…but the part that was serious sounded genuinely a bit grossed out by the thought of trying the uh…the soup. Yes, soup, that's…definitely what it was.

c00lkidd held no such reservations. He'd eaten 1x1x1x1's cooking before- hell, the kid enjoyed it. So when he noticed (Y/N)'s hesitation he started digging into the bowl that 1x1x1x1 had served them, happily chowing down on the slop as (Y/N) watched with an expression that could only be described as aghast.

1x1x1x1 blinked slowly at (Y/N)'s question, his single red eye flickering. Petroleum? Hardly. He may be a monster, but he wasn't trying to kill his own sibling. Not intentionally, at least.

He watched as (Y/N) eyed the bowl of soup suspiciously, seeing their expression bordering on being sick. Even 1x1x1x1 had to admit, it didn't look appetizing. At all. It certainly did look like petroleum with chunks of [MYSTERY INGREDIENT] inside of it, but he was also pretty confident in his cooking. c00lkidd liked it, why wouldn't (Y/N)?

1x1x1x1 glanced over at c00lkidd, who was happily slurping away at the stew of insurmountable evil. The boy's enthusiasm was genuinely amusing, especially since the other killers gave him a 'look' before reluctantly pretending to eat. 1x1x1x1 turned back to (Y/N), a dark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No, not petroleum," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "I've already told you, it's a secret recipe. How many times must I repeat myself, dear sibling?" He paused, then added with a shrug, "Don't worry, c00lkidd seems to like it well enough."

He watched as (Y/N) hesitated, still not reaching for their spoon. He could see the conflict in their eyes, the way that their emotions were a confusing tangle of love for him and their revulsion at the thought of tasting his cooking.

1x1x1x1 reached across the table, tapping his finger against the wood next to the ceramic object with a small, pleading frown."Try it," he coaxed softly. "I made some for you, after all. Don't waste my cooking."

There was a strange undercurrent to his voice, subtly begging his older sibling to at least acknowledge the attempt at pleasing them. Almost like he was asking them to accept this strange and heavily fumbled attempt at expressing affection.

He watched them intently, his eye boring into theirs. Waiting. Hoping. For them to take a chance on his food. On his cooking. On...him.

"I…" Oooooh…(Y/N) couldn't bring themself to deny the meal now. Not with 1x1x1x1's gaze and urging, and they gently pulled their bowl away from c00lkidd to at least have a taste of it.

With a lot more hesitance than really necessary (in 1x1x1x1's eyes, at least), they slowly picked up their spoon and brought a spoonful of the mystery sludge up to their mouth. It looked like (Y/N) was physically struggling to tamp down their self-preservation skills before they finally bit the bullet and shoved the spoonful into their mouth, shutting their eyes tightly and swallowing as fast as possible to reduce the chances of them coughing up the concoction.

It took a moment, but a small shudder ran through their body, and everybody at the table genuinely expected (Y/N) to get sick on themself. They just sat there silently for a few moments, halo spinning wildly over their head and eyes shut tightly.

Eventually they silently set their spoon back down, pushing the bowl back towards c00lkidd and sitting there with their eyes still closed…it kind of looked like they were lamenting all of the choices that had led up to this moment.

"It's…something." (Y/N) finally wheezed out, genuinely having a coughing fit the moment their mouth opened. They finally opened their eyes, tears pricking the corners as they glanced back at 1x1x1x1 with guilt. "…sorry. Just ahhh…not…not my taste…you know…?"

1x1x1x1 watched as (Y/N) struggled to choke down the spoonful of his special soup, their face contorting in a mix of revulsion and determination. He could see the battle playing out across their features - the war between their love for him and their gag reflex's desperate pleas for mercy.

When (Y/N) finally managed to swallow the uh…chunky oil, basically, 1x1x1x1 felt a perverse sense of pride swell in his chest. They had done it. They had eaten something he had made specifically for them. Even if they had looked like they were going to retch their lungs out in the process.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched (Y/N) recover from their near death experience. If it was anybody else 1x1x1x1 would've been calling them pathetic or a weakling, but in this case he felt a pang of guilt follow his initial pride. They looked like they were genuinely suffering. Oops.

When (Y/N) spoke, their voice hoarse and strained, 1x1x1x1 felt another wave of sadness flow through him. His cooking wasn't something that would agree with (Y/N), it was something that he knew deep down would be true. He was also 90% sure that the only reason why c00lkidd liked his cooking was because the boy couldn't taste for shit anymore, but that was an entirely different can of worms to open…

Still, hearing them say that it wasn't to their liking stung more than he thought it would. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at (Y/N) intensely.

"I see," he murmured, his single red eye glinting in the dim glow of the overhead ceiling light. "Well...I'm glad you tried it." His voice was low, almost gentle. Like he really did appreciate the attempt, even if he was hurt by it too. "Everyone's taste is different, after all."

He glances over at c00lkidd, watching as the boy gleefully slurped up the last of the soup, not a care in the world. His gaze lingers on the child for a long moment before flicking back to (Y/N).

"Just...tell me what you did and didn't like about it," he encouraged quietly, almost looking visibly reluctant to ask. "I want to improve. For you." His gaze bored into theirs, like he was trying to read their very soul for answers and pry them out forcefully.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when 1x1x1x1 said that, and they fell utterly silent as they glanced away. Clearly they had…comments to make. But instead they bit their tongue, content with attempting to not hurt their younger brother's feelings…

At least, that was until they remembered that c00lkidd was eating this too. They weren't aware of the fact that c00lkidd's tastebuds didn't work anymore, but they were certain that they didn't want the little fella getting an upset stomach trying to eat motor oil for breakfast.

With that realization, their gaze hardened as they glanced back at 1x1x1x1 with a frown. They opened their mouth to say something, closed it, schooled their expression into something far more gentle, and then reopened their mouth to talk to their younger brother in an almost playful manner. "You know…I could just teach you how to cook my way, right? When you were a little bitty I was the one that cooked for you, not Shedletsky…he was always too lazy to…or he was off doing 'important business'…"

(Y/N)'s offer might've been upsetting to anybody else's egos, but it was surprisingly well-received by 1x1x1x1. The memories of their cooking were not lost to time…especially their signature chicken noodle soup. That was just…chef's kiss.

1x1x1x1 felt a flicker of something warm and nostalgic stir in his chest at the mention of (Y/N)'s offer. Memories of his lovely childhood before Shedletsky fucked it all up resurfaced, the pure and loving soul that embodied (Y/N). He remembered the way Poinsettia's cooking had tasted, the comforting, homey flavors that had filled the old (but still massive) kitchen. 1x1x1x1 also remembered adamantly refusing to be taught how to cook by (Y/N), and he cringed at the memory before shaking it off with a sigh.

He leaned forward, his single red eye widening slightly as he searched (Y/N)'s face for any sign of joking or deceit. But there was none, only a genuine and loving offer, tinged with a hint of playful teasing. It made him feel warm, a gentle heat that spread through his chest and soothed the anger in his bones, even if only temporarily.

"You...remember that?" 1x1x1x1 asked softly, sounding unconvinced of the fact that (Y/N)'s mind still managed to linger on the gentle memories of their past. "I...almost forgot." Almost forgot the simple joys of childhood, the little moments of happiness and innocence prior to his seemingly endless suffering.

1x1x1x1 glanced over at c00lkidd, watching as the boy gleefully slurped up the last of his stew. The child seemed oblivious to the weight of their conversation, far too focused on literally cleaning his bowl out to notice the sadness that seemed to have suddenly enveloped 1x1x1x1.

Turning back to (Y/N), 1x1x1x1 felt his throat tighten with unspoken words and longing to fix the past. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge that unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling. It threatened to remind him of the fact that he could never go back, he'd never be the same again…

"I...would like that," 1x1x1x1 managed to choke out, finally looking down to his entirely untouched bowl of soup taunting him from the table.

"I'll take up your offer this time, sibling." He glanced back up at (Y/N), his eye glinting with a tentative hope. "I know that I've got a long way to go…but I'll do it for you." It was a small admission, but a significant one for a creature like him. It was the first loving words he'd said in a long, long while.

~

*feeds you motor oil*

I refuse to believe the propaganda that 1x can cook. he burns down the kitchen. no. nothing else. his main (and only) dish that he can cook is the 'Sludge Supreme' and literally only one person has the capacity to enjoy it (c00lkidd).

also (Y/N) is collecting family like Pokémon. protective and loving older sibling aura is too strong.

anyway, if you like my stuff don't gatekeep it. share the love, give it a rebagel ^w^

[marksbear2]

please a will graham with an autistic ftm reader, if you're comfortable

Will Graham x Autistic male reader

⚠️Warnings!!- Quiet reader, supportive boyfriend Will, fluff, artist reader, reassurance and healthy relationship and boundaries. ⚠️

Will Graham sat at the edge of the small wooden table, his fingers lightly tapping against his coffee cup as he observed you from across the room. You were carefully organizing your sketchbook, the meticulous way you aligned each page with precision a familiar sight to him. He knew you weren’t entirely comfortable in social situations, but there was something so calming about the way you settled into your routine.

You had always been a little more reserved, and Will admired the way you created your own quiet space in the world. His heart swelled with something he couldn't quite name. Maybe it was love, maybe it was simply the understanding between two people who didn’t need to speak to communicate. He had always understood that about you—your need for silence, the way words could sometimes feel overwhelming.

He cleared his throat softly, unsure if you’d even notice. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice unusually gentle. "How’s your sketchbook coming along?"

You looked up at him, the corner of your lips quirking into a small smile. It wasn’t a huge display, but it was enough. You closed the book with a soft thud and leaned back in your chair, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee mug absentmindedly.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice low, but not uncomfortable. "I’ve been trying to draw something new." Your gaze flicked to him, almost shy. “Not sure if it’s... any good.”

Will smiled, though it was bittersweet. He knew you struggled with self-doubt sometimes, especially with how sensitive you were to how others perceived you. He’d noticed it the first time he met you—how your hands trembled ever so slightly when you were unsure, how your eyes darted away when you worried about what people thought.

“You’re a great artist,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I don’t think you’ve ever drawn anything that wasn’t.”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. Will wasn’t the type to flatter; when he said something, he meant it. And though you’d never fully understood why he was so patient with you, you appreciated it more than words could express.

"Thanks, Will," you murmured, a blush coloring your cheeks. You glanced down at your hands, the pads of your fingers pressing against the cup, grounding you in the moment.

He leaned forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and affection. "You know, I think you're one of the only people who doesn’t make me feel like I have to say the right thing all the time. You... just let me be myself."

Your gaze met his, and for a brief second, the noise of the world outside seemed to fade into nothingness. In that silence, in that soft exchange, you understood something about him that few others did.

You weren’t sure what it was, exactly—if it was because of the way your thoughts could collide and tangle in a maze of self-doubt, or the way his understanding eyes didn’t force you to explain yourself. But somehow, Will made you feel like you were enough as you were. No explanations needed.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

[blackstar-liveblogs]

Last time I did this it was a year ago, but a cubito has reached blorbo status after so long + he's barely talked about on the maintag along most of the Teal Titans. Here I come with blue faction rep.

It's time for a tr!Scott BIG ramble, more under the cut.

I got myself on a mission recently, the mission to watch Scott's POV of The Realm, and I just got done with all the available VODs today (if he was present in-character on more VODs from other streamers while off-stream, I have no clue which ones specifically).

From the get go, tr!Scott's lore is very interesting. He was established as someone who just spawned in, as a giant snail, and according to his own words (paraphrased): ''It's all very cloudy, I know that I felt a strong will to kill you, but strangely the need to distract you with baby sensory games at the same time.''

The three hours of scuffed snail fight with the Teal Titans were applied into his first memories. They bonded over that and he acted upon that since.

Plus, the entire cloudy and mixed feelings/wills during this fight sparked the headcanon/theory of mine that goes: The Keepers brought the people that fought as the snails to the Realm and applied some sort of magic that turned them hostile and willing to kill their opponents. But Scott was able to kinda get through some of that magic, for reasons unknown, which allowed him to bond while that will to murder was not 100% disappearing.

Again, this is not canon nor confirmed, it's my interpretation until proven differently by the lore, if this ever gets brought up again at all. It's a theory based off the books tr!Bekyamon found too and I highly recommend to read them.

Back to Scott, he was automatically sorted to the Hostile Faction aka the Reds. But from his very first day after the snail fight, he was making very clear statements that he had no allegiances at all with the red faction and he felt more comfortable with the blue faction thanks to those hours of bonding they went through. He did not care if people called him unloyal to the Reds or if they pointed out that he spent most of his time with the Teal Titans, because he knew all of this very well himself and was not bothered at all by it.

''In everything but the tab list, I'm blue,'' he repeated many times.

He heard some stuff about the people around him during those first days. When he first met Pili, he pointed out that he committed many murders and crimes, but not in a judgamental way. Scott clarified right there that he only said it as an observation and facts, and Pili did not deny it was true after that.

I noticed that Scott tends to go after the facts of what happened and what people did, instead of buying the first biases he receives at face value. There was some discussion in the game chat back when Krow stole the Kingdom's bell and was killed; people said that Scott was antagonizing his own faction members then (when he still was Red), but I looked at it now and I think: Not really? In the sense of, the intention was not to antagonize specifically?

He wasn't saying stuff out of malice, he was staying the facts as he perceived them: A very important bell was stolen, Krow got killed as a consequence and now responsability was refused to be taken. Scott had no interest in taking the Kingdom's side, as he said himself during this: ''I didn't say anything that wasn't true.''

Of course, stating that someone is not taking responsability for their actions and that the consequences were expected to come with the context provided can come out as antagonizing, so any perception like that is also valid. I only want to point out that the way Scott perceives it it's very interesting.

To add to this, later he heard criticism about the Kingdom having an object that important right there in the open, ready to be stolen, and he agreed to it. At the same time, he didn't understand why other factions cared so much about the Kingdom's bussines, because he doesn't care himself to get involved in those dramas.

Scott wanted to be part of the blue faction and follow his Supreme Leader. Those were his own words. That was the only thing he actually cared about.

The Teal Titans had no trouble to treat him as one of them either. Scott was called an honorary Blue and even participated in their faction-only meetings days before they knew if he was even able to switch.

At the time, Tubbo was not around during those meetings. There was one when Aimsey announced that he was going to arrange a way to invite Scott to the faction, and even a Keeper was involved.

Tubbo wasn't there until the day many Keepers surrounded Scott and gave him a mission to get a Conduit on his own to join Blue.

The chaos of this day was hilarious on his POV:

He could finally switch factions. One person that does not show up often from the faction shows discontent for reasons that he didn't know at all, so he was just confused while Aimsey reassured him to ''not listen to the voices in the back.'' He went all chill on his own to find a map, find the Heart of the Sea, come back and fish. He saw Tubbo and Bad with TNT Minecarts in the distance, tried to eavesdrop, but they were in a group, so he backed away to fish. Both him and CPK decided to go together to see what was up once Tubbo and Bad called everyone over, Tubbo was under his own TNT trap calling for an ultimatum and talking about stuff Scott had no idea about. He watched the situation unfold, until CPK ended up exploding Tubbo and both with Bekyamon went to tell Aimsey what happened. Scott remained very confused.

Back to fishing. He got to make the Conduit, waited with Aimsey for the Keepers and then succesfully joined the Teal Titans.

This day had the positives of showing more sides of Scott's character. He usually acted unsurprised but polite around the Keepers, which started a pattern of him saying that from the moment he spawned in as a giant snail, nothing surprised him anymore and did not want to understand all the unusual things, just go along with the fact that they exist.

He also was trying to read Tubbo's reasonings and emotions to reach the conclusion that he didn't feel him specifically joining the faction was the issue, but that there were a lot of underlying issues that were brought up with this whole situation. In other words, Scott did not feel resentful towards Tubbo, he was trying to make sense of his actions, with other suggestions like maybe Tubbo did not care about his inclusion until it was a potential problem for himself, among others.

Scott got what he wanted, he was part of the Teal Titans. Now he was able to build and chill, or so he thought.

Stuff kept happening on the server, which brought up more about him and his deal.

First, the Pili vs Clown fight. I was interested to watch this from Scott's POV, since I remember reading a lot that Pangi was claiming Scott was making fun of Pili during it, and therefore, wanted to kill him. I had all this previous information of Scott not caring to get involved in the other factions' dramas, not having any intention to pick sides related to that, and only wanted to watch with everyone else. With that context, Scott making fun of Pili, the same way Kingdom members did, did not make sense to me.

Then, I watched how Scott was joking around with everyone else that the fight was taking too long. After the extra hour of waiting for Pili to show up, most of the audience was not willing to take the fight itself seriously past the 30 minutes (and more) it kept going for. Scott did not see anything wrong with this, because everyone else was doing it and he was not making fun of either fighter, but fun of the fight itself taking so long to be done.

In fact, the last words Scott said to Pili were genuine praise for his resilience and that he would have not done what he did himself, which he pointed out as something impressive in a positive way. Pili even thanked him.

He also showed disapproval at the fact that people looted Pili's stuff once he died. Stating that only Fit doing it he would let it pass since he is homeless. Then, quickly decided to leave before any drama could potentially happen after the fight.

He's truly a drama between factions that are not his own avoider. He is not getting in the middle of them.

Then imagine his confusion upon finding a sign with a threat inside his house next time he logged on. He joked around interpreting ''count your days'' literally and questioning how much he had to count, but he overall was very confused and asking what the heck did he do.

I noticed he used to talk with Owen more out of other Kingdom members. Owen acted relatively normal from this POV, up until a certain point.

The day after, Aimsey died and Scott got the intel from Owen, but a very incomplete version + Owen's slip ups allowed him to notice his red flags and did not take his words as the facts until doing some questioning and investigation.

Owen almost said ''anyone who doesn't worship Foolish'' instead of ''serve under him'', and Scott made an uncomfortable/disapproving sound for a second, which is telling of his own opinions about this kind of mindsets + one of the red flags he noticed during the conversation. This kind of opinion is very on-brand of Teal Titans members, he truly fits in.

He questioned how Owen stated his assumption that Ros killed Aimsey, so he went to check the cementary, where all blue members register their deaths, and thanks to Ros, it said that they died by a Keeper of the Realm.

And exactly there a Keeper appeared behind him, jumpscare style. He immediately wanted to ask about it, but the Keeper disappeared before he had a chance.

All of these interactions reflect the pattern of Scott wanting to have the facts of what happened and what people did before reaching his own conclusions. And he holds those facts in a way that he perceives himself as an unbiased party and states the truth of the situations.

Speaking of Aimsey, once he knew, he said to himself that he did not know how to feel about it. On one hand, he had only met Aimsey three weeks ago, on the other, they were a big factor of why he could join blue.

I'm sure there was a bit more there. Scott interacted with Aimsey the most those days and seemed to get along really well. But, at the same time, Scott is a cubito that recently spawned in with no memories prior to giant snail. As CC!Scott said (paraphrased): ''tr!Scott is a very laid back guy. Not in an evil or malicious way, but more like a chill way and slow to make any emotional attachments, since he showed up one day suddenly, like someone being born as an adult.''

The character himself accepted there was nothing he could do about it and it was only a matter of waiting for Aimsey to revive.

If I remember correctly, this same day, Scott was the first one to see the giant eye replacing the moon! And the Observers teleporting around him too! The cubito tries to avoid the horrors, but the horrors find him.

The Observers and the Eye Moon actually got him nervous. First, he made fun of the giant eye, since he could just sleep to get rid of it for the day, but eventually, with the Observers constantly on him, he either tried to ignore them (while being clearly on-edge) or he snapped at them once or twice.

''What do you want?! Make me go crazy?! Is that what you want to do?!''

It was the first time I saw this character react this way, instead of brushing off the situation or acting indifferent. Scott was trying really hard to ignore it and it wasn't working.

Good to know the character is not immune to get affected by the horrors 👍.

A bit after, Scott found Tubbo again, and despite the tension he was displaying, Scott ignored it for the sake of keeping Tubbo company and check the tasks together. He was even joking around with him, and again, was not resentful for what happened before.

Tubbo was surprised that Scott was genuinely helping to complete one of the tasks before he had to be absent for a couple of weeks. Scott made it more than clear that he always had the intention to help the faction with the tasks, and with that Tubbo seemingly accepted him, or at least was chill with his company. To the point of agreeing that, while Scott did not understand why the other factions were so adamant to mess with the Kingdom's stuff, Tubbo replied that the Kingdom has that kind of retaliation coming for them, and Scott gave him the point.

Aimsey returned that day too, and Scott received him in a very positive note, not treating them any differently. But he wasn't oblivious to the changes in behaviour, as proven when later he talked with Ros and admitted that Aimsey was acting more cheerful than usual. Also agreed to keep an eye on him just in case.

Scott did not point it out then, but he did tell himself that he also noticed Ros was very sad during that conversation, which made Owen's statement not add-up even more. So another point for this cube's ability to read people's emotions and actions.

Aimsey confirmed his suspicions that Owen was not telling the truth and Ros did not kill them. Then, Scott moved on to help with the task.

With all of this, it's worth to mention, Scott admitted to himself that he was not willing to grind levels like everyone else to get stronger. Instead, he wants to play the social game, so people are no interested in killing him.

He showed these social skills rather recently, when Freddie showed up to his house, talked about plans to steal from everyone, then found out quickly that his fastest horse was stolen.

Before finding out about the stolen horse, Scott pitched the idea that Freddie could pretend to ''find'' the stolen stuff and return it, instead of stealing it and give more bad fame to the Reds than they already have. He phrased it as a way to get more points in everyone's books by doing something ''good.''

When Freddie left, Scott admitted that he was manipulating him so everyone got their stuff back. He noticed that Freddie was trying to manipulate *him*, but Scott basically uno reverse'd.

Shortly, he realized his horse was stolen.

Scott sneaked around and listened to Freddie saying that, indeed, the horse was there.

Scott went around the Kingdom's chest and his own faction's chests, all to find an Invis potion to steal and get his horse back. He did take a Swift potion, which he quickly used once he realized Freddie was at the tavern to steal from Tubbo, so it was his chance to get his horse back. That mission was succesfull and he went back to building.

The last thing to point out, it's that Scott has a soft spot, or at least a will to help, the people who were giant snails like him. He emphatizes with them, to a degree, but does call them ''giant snail buddies'' with a bit of affection. As shown previously, this does not make him biased towards them, but it does make him find himself assisting them once and again.

What does this left us about tr!Scott as a character so far?

Most of the time he's chill and very laid back, but not with malicious intent. He's slow to make emotional attachments as result of having no memory prior to him spawning into the Realm. He does his best to look for the facts of a situation and a person's actions/emotions, which he uses these truths to remain unbiased or state them as they are.

He's only not unbiased regarding his own faction and if it's involved. Scott is loyal to the Teal Titans, spends most of his time with them and does his best to help them and make them feel comfortable, while also wanting help from them (with items stuff) if he needs it. There's care for them, but has yet to develop deep attachments.

He plays the social game instead of the violence game, this mainly for the sake of survival. His morals are not beyond manipulation to get to the outcome he thinks it would be best or to steal to get what he wants. He does draw the line at some other actions or mindsets that he's not personally comfortable with or approving of.

He's not immune to the horrors, the horrors will find him and he will be unsettled and nervous about them. There will be attempts to ignore them and shut them down.

He's good at reading people whenever he needs it and acts accordingly.

There's a little soft spot for the people who were giant snails like him and he can help them if he's able to.

Most of the time, he's either vibing building or very confused.

In short: He's a complicated cube! And I sure do love those.

This is why he has reached blorbo status, and I wanted to publish this before CC!Scott's subbathon starts and there's more Realm content. Plus, I'm very interested to see if Aimsey's lore gets to affect him in any way.

He does not worry about the beef between the other factions and does not want to be involved, but he can get concerned about the horrors that can affect everyone and himself. I'm very very interested to see how this character will develop from here and if he ever will grow those emotional attachments, and what would he do in that case.

In other news, I finish with more tr!Scott pics.