#make sure to do stuff to avoid it!
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red giant starlo au doodles
#red giant starlo au#red giant star#astronomy#starlo uty#uty starlo#starlo#ceroba ketsukane#ceroba uty#uty ceroba#orion uty#uty orion#undertale#undertale yellow#uty#digital art#doodles#generally i think orion is pretty avoidant of touch and stuff but like. if his brother is like dying or something#heâll give him a solid pat on the back if heâs the one of the only ones who can do it#oh and ceroba isnât happy about this either btw. she has a LOT to deal with already and this is just another thing#imo all he wants is her company. to help him feel a lil better. and also to make sure sheâs okay LMAO#i think the feisty fiveâŚ.. try and take care of him
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oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite⢠version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.
content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!
also on ao3!
It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. Youâre too close, then too far, and Reigen canât get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he canât decide how he wants your leg angled, and thereâs too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.
Finally, finally, everything is perfect.
Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and youâre not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but heâs here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, thereâs no way youâre not going with.
Perfect.
His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.
"As long you donât- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not⌠well." He moves a hand back and forth across where heâs hovering over your thigh.
âKeep off the goods. Gotcha."
"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."
You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.
"The goods don't seem to agree."
"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. âFine, fine, just stop saying goods.â
âAlright.â He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. âI promise! I will never again use âthe goods�� to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-â
âI get it! I get it.â He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. âHere, actually, can you-? Hm.â He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.
âBetter?â
âMuch.â He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.
âDidnât mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.â
âSâokay. Iâll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.â You hit the last âtâ sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. âGod, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? Itâs sorta mesmerizing.â
âHm? Oh, I donât know, Iâm just- I wasnât thinking about it. Sâjust what f-Â ha, feels good.â His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.
âYeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?â
âOi.â His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.
âToo much?â
âThatâs not how I think of you.â
You canât help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. âI know, âTaka, I know.â You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. âBut would it really be so bad to belong to you?â
âI-Â fuck.â Thereâs a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then heâs scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.
âAre you sure?â Itâs a formality, uttered even as youâre already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but itâs one you canât even imagine going without.
âVery.â He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.
He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.
âDo I need to get-?â You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. Heâs technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasnât made much effort to keep the secret either.
He shakes his head. âIâm close. Wonât matter.â
He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he canât get any good contact.
âOh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it wonât stay down on its own.â
He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.
âThat gorgeous curve probably isnât helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.â You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. âSorry, sorry, di-â
âNo, itâs-â He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think heâs going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. âHere.â
He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isnât already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.
He wasnât lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.
âJust⌠gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.â He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.
You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You donât bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.
âEh, let it dry.â
âIâm starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.â
âIf you havenât gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-â
He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so thereâs no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed.Â
âOh, stop it.â He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like heâs trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. âI canât take you anywhere.â
âOh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.â You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere heâd rather you didnât.
âHey, Arataka?â
âI love you, too.â
âThat, too.â You chuckle. âBut I have a real question this time.â
âOh.â He turns his head. âSure.â
âAfter you⌠when you took my hands earlier, were youâŚ?â The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You canât help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. âSorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.â
You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.
âDo you meanâŚâ He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. âDo you mean after the clothes came off?â
You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.
âI was⌠I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didnât have to say it, if I could just⌠imply, then I could get around it, but,â he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, âI panicked.â
Youâre both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.
âItâs not a bad idea.â
â...Panicking?â
âNo, angel. Implying.â He presses his cheek to the top of your head. âMaybe you just have to imply for a little longer.â
âIâm not following.â
âWhat if you left your hand on top of mine? That way itâs like- itâs the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.â
For a long moment, youâre not sure if heâs quiet because heâs thinking or because heâs falling asleep.
He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.
+
"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."
"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. Youâre not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.
You shift back onto your knees.
"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."
When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.
"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."
You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.
"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."
"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. âYours under mine.â
âGot it.â You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"
"You tell me that every time."
"It's important every time."
He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."
You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"
He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."
"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"
"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"
"Arataka."
"Yeah." He swallows.
"I'm not going to be offended if youâd like to take off your own pants."
He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."
"And your-?"
"Just do it at the same time."
"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"
His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.
You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.
"Ready?"
He nods slightly.
"Iâd like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."
He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.
"Yeah, yes.â He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. âI trust you."
You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and youâre certain if you put your hand to his cheek youâd worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, heâs hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.
He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. âAre you gonna-?â
âIn a minute.â You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. âIâm savoring.â
He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.
Once youâre sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigenâs skin as you uncover more of it.
Heâs shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.
You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.
He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.
âHere, letâs try this.â You guide him to sit up. Once heâs situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. âStill good?â
He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.
âYouâre allowed to change your mind, yâknow. I can let you do it.â
âThatâs not- mm.â He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. âI thought I would⌠Iâm sorry.â
You shake your head and slowly pull away. âNothing to apologize for.â You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesnât hold your gaze for long.Â
âDo you want to keep going? Should IâŚ?â
He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something youâre not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.
âStay in bed?â Your voice is shakier than youâd like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. âOr move to the couch and watch something?â
âCouch.â He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. âThanks.â
He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.
You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out.Â
+
Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. Youâve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasnât tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.
You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can youâre sure he would be spilling it on you right now.
He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.
He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.
"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."
Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.
"I guess you better help me there."
"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.
The gears in your head start to turn.
He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.
It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.
"I don't think that was the right door."
"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."
"Then wh-"
He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.
"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.
Everything clicks together all at once.
Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.
"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"
"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he canât support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."
"Iâm drunk."Â
"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"
Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.
âMâfine.â
He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest. He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.
"Hey, where's your hand?"
"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."
"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.
A sobering panic cuts through you.
He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.
"Stay... stay put."
He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.
Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.
You call a cab service.
+
It smells like coffee.
When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.
You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.
You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.
Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.
"Hey."
"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.
"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"
Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.
"I think I should be asking you that."
"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."
You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.
"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"
He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."
"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."
He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.
"What for?"
"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"
"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."
"But you trusted me, and I-"
"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."
"You-?"
"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasnât exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.
"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if heâs testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you⌠to not take it further than I was comfortable with⌠more than I trusted myself to⌠not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.
"Liquid courage."
He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.
"You... got drunk on purpose?"
"Not originally, but, uh."
You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.
"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."
"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."
"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."
"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didnât realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."
"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know whatâs getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.
âI mean, literally speaking, your hands.â You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. âBecause, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?â He stares, unblinking. âSorry, too soon to joke, probably,â you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.
When he moves again, itâs with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. âMy hands.â
âYeah, I-â
âNo, my hands.â He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. âMy hands.â
âIf you want to stop-â
âSaying so has always been enough.â
You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.
You take his hand, and you start pulling.
+
âThis is⌠mine?â An old black tie lays across Reigenâs palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.
âYeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.â You shrug. âYou never really liked it, though, plus youâre here all the time anyway, so I didnât get around to giving it back, and itâs just been here ever since.â
As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks.Â
There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.
Heâs struck with the realization itâs not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasnât there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.
Heâs wearing off on you.
Heâs known it for a while, but heâs never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.
âStill okay?â
He wonders how youâve worn off on him, which parts of him werenât there before that he doesnât notice, canât notice.
âYeah.â He nods. âIâm ready.â
He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until heâs left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.
He feels light.
You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.
âOh, wait!â You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. âNot- we should take my shirt off first.â
âJesus, you scared the shit out of me!â You laugh and settle back onto your knees. âYes, okay, letâs- yeah.â
Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.
He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. Heâs insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.
You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.
âWe could stay like this? My hands are⌠close-ish together.â
âI canât see behind me to tie it, but,â you pull his hands around your head, âIâm sure we can figure it out after that.â
He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything youâre satisfied with.
âSorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.â
âItâs alright. I like the attention.â
You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.
ââTaka, Iâm supposed to be the composed one!â
âIâm just trying to be honest!â He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.
âDonât worry,â you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, âI like giving you attention.â You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. âAnd I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.â
âYou seem plenty composed to me.â He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.
âQuick recovery. I learned from the best.â You wink and put your fingers through the loops. âHere, hands in here.â
He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.
âThere, itâll have to do.â You slip a finger in each loop, making sure thereâs enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. âItâs a little loose, so donât pull too hard, okay?â
âSure.â He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. âIâll try.â
You roll your eyes, smile still wide.
âHands above your head, please.â
âHm?â
âIâd like to get at your neck.â You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. âThose were in the way.â
âO-oh. Right.â
You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.
You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.
You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you wonât move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.
Youâre both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.
He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.
âOoh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?â You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.
âTrickery.â He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. âNot fair.â
âDonât worry, youâll get plenty more chances.â You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the âvâ of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. Itâs slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down.Â
You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, youâre too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.
âHaving fun down there?â
âOh, lots, thanks.â You slip your thumb below the elastic. âSeems like you are, too.â
âHm.â
âSorry, what was that?â You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.
âYes.â
âSo, just to make sure, you are having fun?â Itâs just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.
âGood boy.â
Youâre not sure you would have felt it if you werenât holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.
âArataka.â
âHmm?â He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.
âShould I keep calling you a good boy?â
âUm. If you want.â He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.
He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesnât reach for your hands.
âYouâre doing so well, âTaka.â He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. âSuch a good boy for me.â Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.
âMhm.â You lean back on your heels. âHow about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,â you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, âIâll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?â
He nods, and you stop moving.
âCan I hear you say it?â
âYes,â he breathes, pressing his wrists together, âyes, sounds good.â
âGood job.â When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. âSo perfect.â
You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. Itâs not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.
âFuck, that, more of that. P-please.â
âThis hand?â You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.
âYeah. I need⌠just, hold onto me.â
âOkay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.â You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. âGood boy.â
âShit,â he laughs, squirming closer to you. âSânot close enough.â
âLet me try something, then.â You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. âThere you go, perfect.â
You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.
âSorry, too much?â
âNot enough.â His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. âCan you, donât put it- but, closer?â
âYou want me here instead?â You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.
âY-yes. Yes, fuck.â
âGladly.â Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. âThank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.â
He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.
He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you canât help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. âAlright, love, Iâm gonna give you a choice, okay?â
He swallows thickly, then nods.
âOption one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I wonât do anything you donât tell me, so youâll have to say exactly what you want.â
His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. âAnd option two?â
You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. âI do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.â He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. âJust for a little while.â
He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, itâs fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigenâs wrists.
âBoth options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.â You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.
When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. Heâs sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because heâs seeing you in his clothes - heâs had the privilege of that many times before - but because youâve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing heâd done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and youâve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.
For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.
âSecond one.â
Your eyebrows raise a little, like youâre surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then youâre grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like heâs giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.
You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.
âJust like that, gorgeous.â
He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.
âThatâs it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.â
For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesnât hold back. Youâre silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because youâre not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if heâs exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, youâre not going to complain.
After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. Youâre still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isnât already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize heâs saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.
âCan I have your hand?â You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. âI just- I need,â he opens and closes his hands, âsomething.â When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.
âPlease, I need- I canât take it anymore.â He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize youâve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.
Heâs begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; heâs still tugging at your hand like you canât get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he canât quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.
He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.
You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but youâre not exactly paying attention to where youâre still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.
âNono, wait, donât-â He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.
âItâs okay, âTaka, sâokay. Iâm not going anywhere. I just didnât wanna crush you. Letâs sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.â You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. âThatâs it. Youâre okay. I gotcha.â
Once heâs upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesnât slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.
âHow you feelinâ?â
He doesnât answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.
âI think I died.â His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. âI understand you now.â
âYou didnât die, I promise.â You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. âThatâs high praise, though.â
âYouâre high praise.â
âYouâre the one that liked it so much.â
He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesnât have the distraction of everything else, you can tell heâs starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and heâs fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.
âDoesnât mean I wasnât happy to oblige.â
You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanketâs seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.
âI canât believe I did that.â He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. âThe hell was I thinking?â
âObviously you werenât, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.â He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. âYou could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?â
âWith clearly human teeth?â
âMaybe it⌠stole them?â
He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.
âWhere you going with that hand, darling?â
He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. âYour turn?â
You consider it. Youâre not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. Thereâs a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over whatâs left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But thereâs something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .
More than anything, you are content.
He sees your expression and laughs, must know what youâre going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.
âMaybe next time.â
#reigen arataka x reader#reigen x reader#my writing#it's been so long i forget how i tag things lol#hey bestie you're for sure gonna get a notif for this and i apologize in advance lsjkdfk#thank you so so much to everyone that stayed through the hiatus#i have been reading all the kind comments and asks and even though i don't respond they absolutely make my day#i was trying to avoid the internet as much as possible and it kinda... just stayed that way for a long time#if you're worried about this being the âlastâ aspec reigen pls don't panic#there's a more detailed ramble on ao3 but basically there will be more of these two goofs in love#(and probably a third goof in love)#but i wanna change some stuff and it'll be easier to do that in a new series#since this wasn't really meant to be a series in the first place weirdly#so basically it may be slow going but this isn't the end#i'm dropping this and then going to bed so i'll see y'all in the morning i hope you enjoy!!#i have.... so much to catch up on.....
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this joke mightve worked better for dream drop distance in retrospect
#tbh i probably didnt think to do dream drop distance#because i avoid thinking about ddd at all whenever i can#anyways#sorry about the watermark i used tiktok to make it and didnt realize i couldnt save it without it#ig i have a tiktok now#i mean i had one i just didnt post there#but tbh i still forget to post on youtube so#should i make these links accessible? probably#will i? probably not#honestly im not even sure about using tiktok#but i will give it one (1) chance to not suck#but youre not getting anything unique over there#actually youre getting less than my youtube lmao bc i can only really post short videos on tiktok so theres none of my longer stuff#anyways thats it#if this doesnt upload again ill riot#doodles#kingdom hearts#sora#ansem sod#xemnas#xigbar#video#sound on
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sometimes iâm like âi should probably work on my tendency to take it to the grave when i have feelings for people that are stronger than standard friendshipâ and then i imagine telling someone i have a squish on them and i immediately change my mind
#marzi speaks#like actually. no. no nevermind iâm good. no thanks#bc first off. how do you explain it#âhey i want to be like ultra best friendsâ isnât serious enough. âi love youâ sends the wrong connotations and also woah way too intense#that part is easier with other aspecs tho. âhey iâm squishing 4 u and if ur down would like to maybe enter a qprâ makes sense to other aros#as well as folks who just. Know This Stuff#but even then! if you get rejected thatâs so humiliating#if u have a romantic crush on someone and get rejected thatâs fine#bc the friend feelings are still mutual. you can still be good friends and itâs great#but when u have a squish on someone and get rejected#that feels. so much more awkward#bc the friendship feelings may be mutual but theyâre different in their intensities#and once you Know That for sure. where do you go. how do you avoid feeling awkward#or like. worrying that youâre overstepping or being too intense#sorry no iâd literally rather die. no. no thank you#maybe one day iâll get over this but until then . no iâm not brave enough
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yet another oc that only exists because i wanted to write something very specific

(middle is a little older, hence her scar healing. i like to think she gets a glass eye at some point)
anyway this is mira! (they/she) since that wip is almost 20k words and counting i wonât give away too much but long story short sheâs the result of meta going âone last time, i promiseâ and adopting yet another kid
also galaxia kinda indirectly picked the name :)


iâve mentioned before that i headcanon that pretty much all astrals are autistic and this is just kinda an extension of that. whereas meta tends to suppress his emotions and conform to others, miraâŚdoesnât. she gets uncomfortable and upset and lashes out at people easily, and working through their emotions is no small task.
the main reason i chose to write them that way was for the sake of narrative but iâve grown attached to it because thereâs a lot of ideas there iâd like to explore. stuff about navigating emotions and relationships when existing is so suffocatingly uncomfortable. itâs not something i could center around Kirby himself, but i think it makes sense with a post character development meta knight.


they are very loved (omg oldee cameo???)


kirby was definitely very excited to have younger siblings after being used to being the youngest in the room for so long!! (with the like. one and only exception being gooey.) heâs super affectionate with both of them and wants to have a close relationship one day, but for now mira is pretty unappreciative of that fact lol. they donât like being pestered for hugs
everyone else is okay tho



(i know thatâs hard to read. oops. âobvious bite marksâ. siblings being siblings.)
mira also has a very love/hate relationship with the egg kid, being so close in age they kinda Have to get along but in typical sibling nature they also fight a lot. sure itâs probably rough for a while but i think in the end theyâd be good buddies. maybe not as close as Kirby and Bandee but still.
anyway i have a lot of thoughts and am very busy but. iâm really enjoying writing about all this lately itâs been fun ^^
#I picked a name and then proceeded to write a comic in pen in which i used that name and posted it#and only after all that did i learn that mira is becoming a very popular name. which i generally avoid#but oh well. itâs stuck#im gonna be completely honest a lot of how i pick names for characters is based off of how many puns i can make out of it#im sorry to disappoint you with that information /j#kirbyposting#my art or something#meta knight#kirby#king dedede#metadede#Kirby oc#semi future au#I swear iâll introduce oldee one day im just bad at having drawing ideas#also trying very hard to not make self deprecating comments over some of this art cause i just. donât really want to spend forever redrawing#stuff anymore. like I used to do for a lot of these posts. Itâs whatever#anyway kinda a part two to yesterdayâs post (as in: I made sure they were both ready at the same time so i could queue them together lol)#weirdly enough this isnât all that different from my dmk interpretation#i canât really decide what color she is either#part of me wants to say bright blue red eyes because i think that would look absolutely sick but that seems like a bit too much blue#all things considered#maybe bright yellow blue eyes idk ill figure it out later (maybe)
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Me finding out hyper-responsibility and responsibility OCD are a thing đ never read about a disorder/behavior that so specifically matched my weird f**king problems.


Guess I will bring this up in therapy...
#ocd#responsibility OCD#hyper-responsibility#mental health#magical thinking#op#personal#finding this out is actually rather distressing#if only bc I know OCD stuff is a b*tch to treat#I was in the middle of spiralling over something anyway rn so what's one more thing to make me internally writhe#maybe this'll help my therapist understand my bedbug obsession#last time he was like âdo you think you have a phobia [of them]?â and I had to explain that no#Fear is not rly a good descriptor of the problem#i think most ppl with phobias avoid thinking about or seeing The Thing but I can spend hours reading about BBs and looking at photos of the#pretty sure most ppl with like arachnophobia wouldn't look at photos of spiders for hours#I dont do it bc I enjoy it. Instead it's a hunt for information to help prevent getting an infestation.#in retrospect it seems rly obvs I have an obsessive brain that latches onto things and won't let go how did I miss it?
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Okay, I might be making myself a target here, but I donât like misinformation and Iâve been seeing this frequently now that loads of people are talking about The Celestial Toymaker:
The character is NOT in yellow-face.



They did not alter his skin tone to try to appear Asian. They did nothing to his physical features, such as his eyes, to try to appear Asian. He does nothing with his voice that tries to emulate any kind of accent. His skin, his voice, his everything, is just Michael Gough.
Please compare him to the other white characters:


Same skin color as them. He is clearly not made up to look like anything other than what he is. The only makeup here is stage makeup that you canât even see.
Now compare to Michael Gough outside of this role:



Exactly the same as he is as the Toymaker.
The only undeniably Asian thing here is his outfit, which certainly isnât enough to make the claim that he himself was supposed to be. The Toymakerâs entire realm is made up of a variety of things from Earth that he as a godlike alien entity has no connection to.
(As an aside, to cover my bases, Iâve also been hearing that âcelestialâ was a derogatory term towards Asians and that therefore he must have been meant to be himself and so the entire character is a racist concept, but I doubt the creators were thinking anything besides âotherworldlyâ, âetherealâ, or âexaltedâ and so on when they used the word, and if they were, then at the very worst it would be a play on words about his outfit â not his race â that may have been in poor taste, but not malicious. Old things can be outdated and even wrong without bad intent. Youâve got to give people some grace and the benefit of the doubt, especially when theyâre not around to defend themselves for being products of their own time.)
If the only concrete thing you have to argue against the character is his clothing, thatâs not yellow-face. All it takes is one look at any of his in-color set photos to see what he looks like â although it shouldnât even be necessary, because in black and white itâs still obvious heâs not been made up to look any different.
TLDR: The Toymaker was not meant to be Asian, and Michael Gough was not in yellow-face.
#preparing to be torn limb from limb for this but i do NOT want people who are wrong to keep spreading it and making others want to avoid it#people have a hard enough time wanting to engage with 60s who as it is and stuff like this just makes it worse#iâm very protective of this era of the show and i canât watch this keep happening without saying something to defend it#classic who#the celestial toymaker#celestial toymaker#michael gough#rant#also. we know what it looked like when the bbc used yellow-face back then and um. this sure ainât it.
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oohhh.... feeling evil might mess with some roman genders.......
#i read this book when i was little where one of the characters was born a girl but their mum brought them up as a boy and hid it from them#to avoid discrimination or something/i can't fully remember..... so obviously im now thinking of that .with some roman guys + their mothers#looking for opportunities to socially advance. like if the family used to be great but had fallen into obscurity and they needed a seat in#the senate to claw back some dignity and the mum has like six girls before saying 'fuck it' and just bringing the last one up as a boy#to get that seat.like#idk im finding it intriguing to think about..... obviously there would have to be a lot of precautions taken and stuff but i think it would#be interesting to explore!#not sure if i should make my own guy to do/explore/write this with or make up a sneaky little backstory for an already existing guy#either way. thumbs up emoji#blah blah
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Updated Masterlist and Blog Rules on pinned post! I would greatly appreciate checking it!
#idk what is the best way to go about this#especially since I sense only people that already care and are not concerned in this will read#and I do wonder if people will unfollow to avoid getting blocked and still remotely have a chance to see my stuff and still not give a shit#not sure what it says about the ones that quickly unfollowed today#I honest to God don't know anymore how to make this better
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I don't like debating much(unless necessary for the sake of my own humanity) but sometimes it can be really Really fun specifically if it's about something that has absolutely no real weight to it(and yet if you were a spectator it might cause some concern for whatever reason)
for example: would you rather be threatened(physically mentally or emotionally take your pick) by a can of corn or a cob of corn?
Me personally I'd pick cob for a few reasons
1. I can outlast it(probably)
Fresh corn will eventually rot and decay but have you seen how long canned stuff can last unopened before it looks slightly different from new stuff??
2. Cans are made of metal not vegetable flesh
While a corn cob has its core that's not metal. Ever dropped a can? Might get a dent. If you have a good kick then you might survive but you will probably hurt your foot. Ever dropped corn? If it had it outer leaves and hair it might have stood a chance but if it didn't then bits of corn go everywhere
3. Actually fighting if needed
I feel like I could survive a fight with a sentient can but a sentient cob just seems less likely to hurt
However there are some things might change my decision
Like issue one which is how the corn moves because if the cob is fresh with hair and leaves and can move all the little hairs individually and can move the leaves then I'd probably choose the can because at that point I feel like it's less of "how would i survive with the least amount of bruising" and more of "how would I rather die but with a chance of surviving" and in my opinion i think blunt force trauma would be better then a slow death of strangulation via a sentient corns hair plus I do think I'd have a chance against a can of corn
Another issue is if it was mentally or emotionally I'd probably go with the can bc I feel like it would be easier for to rationalize it as ridiculous to be threatened by a can of corn then a cob for some reason
Like a cob is ridiculous to the point that I'd just accept it as making sense for that to happen?
a can is like "why am I listening to the can of corn. I literally own a can opener." But a cob is more like "if I were to try and deal with you in the traditional way of dealing with corn that would mean a pot and water and time and-"
Plus idk why but I feel like a cob would be less mean with its words. I can't explain it I just think cob would just go straight to physical threats instead of emotional ones but a can would stare at you menacingly making you question yourself and just judging you
#the part where some might be concerned is the fact that after coming up with that scenario it took me 3 seconds to decide on my awnser#this corn convo scenario didnt actually happened but ive had many similar convos#this may or may not make any sense but thats the fun of it in my opinion :D#the other part that concerns people so i dont tend to say it out loud as much is the âhow would you rather dieâ part#so many people are just so uncomfortable with death they try to avoid discussing it at any cost even though its somthing coming for us all#its kinda sad#like i do get it. its hard to not only accept but really think about death as a reality#people dont like it when something good can end so they try to avoid it and try to deny it#its hard to look at something that youve been ingrained to consider as âbadâ and see it as anything else#i feel like recognizing the fact that something will end can help you cherish it more in the present#and if you can recognize the good and accept that it will end you can also morph that when thinking about the bad#life isnt simple and neither is death#bad moments come and good moments come and bad moments and good moments and bad moments and good moments ect#is it really so weird that i dont ignore it?#like im going to die eventually welcome to reality but thats not right now.#right now i have blood moving in my arteries and veins right now im breathing and blinking periodically#right now im still alive and i intend to do the most i can with whatever time i have even if im still fighting myself to do basic tasks#its kinda sad that so many people think its better to ignore that our time is limited#maybe its just the way i grew up#i didnt face death a lot but my family moved every few years and whenever i met another kid i used to know it was never the same person#we were both different in ways that made it seem like we were entirely new people#i had to get to know them a second time practically from scratch so every time either one of us left there was always a part of me that knew#when one of us left we were done#like sure we could get to know each other again but it would never be how it had been#we would be new people to each other#idk i think that made it easier for me to accept the existence of death and not taking things for granted#like stuff happens life goes on make the best of it and make friends with everyone possible while it lasts#idk sheesh this started as me being like âi like weird and slightly stupid debatesâ and ended as âi have opinions on peoples veiws of deathâ#whatever hope my point is made i guess. good job making it this far? give me stupid questions pls(also 30 tag limit who knew: me now)#brains rambles
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were you on a hiatus?
there were people here who used to make gordon-barney work i liked, and then they stopped because they either saw or were subjected to toxic fandom behavior from people who also like those two guys. it really soured things for me. still kinda does, tbh. but what can you do
#sorry about awkwardly specifically avoiding the ship name i dont want my negative post to show up in the search for it lol#im pretty sure i havent even drawn something for this ship in two years. but i do check up on my notifications every once in a while#unfortunately i still think these two video game guys are hot and its fun + easy to make stuff up about them.#its been long enough that maybe if i try rly hard i can pretend all those types o people moved on to gacha games or fnaf by now or somethin#the problem with just blocking ppl is that you have to see them make bad takes first and seeking that stuff out makes you ill in the brain
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Do u not ship tatum and brown đ

#ur answer#LMFAO TO BE SRS THO#i do ship them but i also dont#like i like the ship i think it's rlly cute#i just dont feel the urge to write for it myself or comment on it#ill see pics of them and be like aww!! the cuties!! married !#but like thats all tbh#i dont have the personal compulsion to explore their relationship in depth on my own time#now that dowsnt mean i know nothing abt them. i know bits n pieces but only from moots#not from research done on my own accord#and bcs i dont have that solid backbone to play off of#i dont feel comfortable personally to write stuff for them if what im mainly playing off of are small bits#to make a big whole thing#then ill feel like it's a disservice to those that DO know the whole thing so i just leave it to the more experienced ya feel?#theres a lot of blogs who DO do that research and thats awesome! i do research too! judt on other things#everyone has their own cups of tea they like to sip and they like to down#i like to sip on some ships but ull Know when i down a ship bcs . ya. ill be the iceberg baby#it's like my opinion on favs like zach lavine#hes pretty and i can see the reason for being a fan but personally im just a fan of other things !#a bigger fan* i mean. i like him. but do i LIKE like him? cant say for sure bcs i havent made the effort to get to know him fr#and i dont feel the need to bcs i just dont and thats ok! no need to make any violent defense up when theres none needed#altho i do feel like sometimes a ship like jt and jb can run the risk of the curry lebron thing where#a lot of ppl jump into writing it bcs pretty light man paired with powerful seeming/looking dark man = wowziezowa#and thats all it ever is to them#so i Do tend to avoid Some media of it. but again. unforch. this follows a Lot of the popular ships between a light complex&dark one#do i think theyre super cute ? yes! do i find their found family adorbs! ofc! in a way i ship them and in a way i dont#i am just a creature at the end of the day#soggy :(
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i was gonna spend my whole day in bed (productively) but i did do last minute coding
it doesnt look like much but i managed to figure out fetching from the database so its actually something!
this is just a temp photo btw lol
#and i did it sever side#which is great cause i was worried about having to write to the database from the client side for like other stuff im gonna do#doing it server side is supposed to avoid what i was worried about (someone figuring out how to manually edit affection lvls)#but we will see#i read a lot of stuff today#about database security so im trying to be careful#but also its a lot so sometimes info doesnt click until days later and im not confident enough to say no mistakes will happen#dont worry tho! im gonna get ppl in here at some point to test the site and make sure to backup often just in case something does happen#its early days so losing data isnt as scary#i prefer to avoid it all together tho but yea#codeblr#webdev
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Seeing you say you want the Danny Phantom treatment is so funny because. My brain heavily associates you with Phoebe. So now it's like, "what if Phoebe got the Danny Phantom treatment?" Is this an interesting idea or terrible-
If that were the case, then I'd make a whole separate AU where she and Phobia are essentially combined into the same character. Phoebe Spengler would be her secret identity while Phobia Specter would be her ghost form.
I did actually consider doing this once, I just never got super into it because it's been so long since I watched Danny Phantom. Maybe someday I'll revisit the idea.
(Also thank you for saying you associate me with Phoebe, oh my gosh that means a lot! đđ)
#mera's answers#i-have-too-many-obsessions-help#phoebe spengler#ghostbusters#ghostbusters afterlife#ghostbusters frozen empire#ghostbusters au#crossover#danny phantom#normally I'd avoid AUs that give the busters superpowers#since I don't like making them too overpowered#but if I really used my brain I'm sure I could find a way to make it work#not sure what the other kids would be doing in this scenario though#the idea of Trevor being like this universe's equivalent of Jazz Fenton is funny#oc stuff#phobia specter#*edit forgot those last tags
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