#the fic gets a mind of its own and u have no control over what it does and thats the beauty of homestuck i think

[anachronistic-falsehood]

writing dreamstuck dialogue is so fun. ranboo leaves the group chat for two minutes to translate an alternian message and comes back to aimsey and tubbo singing mickey mouse clubhouse and tommy makes fun of him for not watching it as a kid. i do not know how this happened. the dialogue just runs away from u its like a dog without a leash shits runnin away and before u can grab the leash it's GONE

[coridallasmultipass]

Personal vent and ugly mental illness symptom talk

So, I should unpack this with my therapist, but shit's embarrassing, so I'm just gonna vent it out on the public internet lmao.

I was typing out a whole thing about how I KNOW I'm aromantic, and despite that, still have moments where my brain gaslights me into believing I'm in fairytale love.

I should preface by saying I have not officially been diagnosed with either additional mental illnesses I believe that I have (B.P//D and AD//HD [which lol being on AD//HD meds since antidepressants didn't do anything has given me some notable improvement, but I'm still without a diagnosis], nor Au//tism) DESPITE repeatedly asking multiple therapists multiple times and a psych like 100 times to give me a definitive yes or a no.

But holy shit. So I'm typing about how I've 'Favourite Person'-ed multiple people at multiple points in my life across all ages, and I'm like, okay, it's been a hot minute since I refreshed my definition of that, I should make sure that's still a thing and not something I just made up or has been dropped from the symptoms or whatever the case. I wanna make sure I'm using it right in this rant about how falling into Favourite Personing people in the past has made me believe 'wait, maybe I'm not aro, this HAS to be like the deepest truest love in existence, despite my years of knowing I'm aro.' Like, I'm so aro I once calculated out the date, months in advance, I was gonna tell someone I was dating that I loved them, only because it seemed like a socially acceptable amount of time to say it. I wasn't thinking about what I actually felt lmao. (And that was probably not a FP relationship, too, so I know that was absolutely an aro incident.)

Anyways, so I'm reading a couple articles to make sure I articulate my points about how it's conflicted with being aro, and I read about how people falling into having a FP will even hate that person for the slightest perceived wrongs. (I knew this, I just was thinking about the love incidents since that's what was related to my point about being aro.)

And holy shit. That just. Unlocked a memory I have about when I was an older kid, like probably 9ish (and older), I HATED my best friend of many years and who would continue being my bff for more years. Who was my everything. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I hated them. I would lie awake at night (insomnia too tho) thinking about how much I hated them and I couldn't understand why I didn't just stop being their friend and start hanging out with old friends more instead. I just couldn't do it, I wanted to hang out with THEM. I was so sick and feeling jealous of them whenever I found out they'd been hanging out with someone else one-on-one and I wasn't invited. Even when it was their own family. One time they brought me a plate of cookies by surprise for (before) a holiday that they'd just made with their cousin or something. And I felt so sick about how I wasn't there for that, it felt like an insult. I couldn't have put this into words, unless I just now read that point in an article and made a connection. It was so confusing, because usually the people who hated their 'best friend' was like, the mean girl kinda character who intentionally does it to hurt the innocent main character or something, but I was the one who felt wronged every time those feelings would come up. And this wasn't just a 'man it's so annoying when they do this specific thing.' This was active stewing, in a slow cooker, all day and all night kinda thing.

I was never romantically or sexually attracted to that person, but I probably wrote all this off as either unrelated sexuality or gender bullshit when I figured that out later. But knowing now that there was definitely someone (actually, I'm thinking of WAY more people as I'm typing this, and just realized why I stopped loving a band and started hating them 'for no reason' wow lmao) that I FP'ed who I definitely WASN'T attracted to, suddenly convinces me that I was probably right in suspecting B.P//D. (Or, y'know, maybe I don't have that specifically, and it's the symptom from a different facet of mental illness or whatever.) I've been so hung up over how I'm aro, sometimes ace, and then this 'only' happens towards people I am attracted to. Like, 'maybe it was love and I'm just terrible at it.' (No! It's not! Aro is correct! That's just the brain manipulating me to get another hit of dopamine off a FP! It's just easier to happen to someone I'm attracted to!)

It's no fucking wonder why I always worried about people hating me in secret, and it's because I was absolutely making myself insufferable because of that worry. I know for a fact that some people definitely did hate (or. Lmao. Shut up. Like, 'resented' maybe fits better) me for demanding constant attention that was never reciprocated by anyone I've ever met in my entire life.

I probably wrote-off so many symptoms as 'I was a moody teen and kind of an asshole.' Except it happened before and after I was a teen, too. I would have excused everything that happened during and before high school, when I should have been looking for these patterns I kept following for years after. It doesn't help that my first relationship was wildly toxic (mostly against me in this one case), and while I didn't feel particularly bothered by it after I got over the nightmare breakup, I just kept going 'What if it was the sole cause of all of this and I'm just repressing that?' Well, phew! No, it's not, that was thankfully just a toxic embarrassment, and not the source of all my problems. I was already on the shitstorm trajectory. That's a major relief. If you can call it that. I really don't like discussing that one, but not in a trauma way, more like a, you don't really wanna discuss pissing your pants on accident kinda way. Unpleasant to remember, wildly embarrassing to talk about, but ultimately not a life-altering event.

Ughhhhh. Maybe I should bring this (the mental illness not the relationship) up to the therapist. But like, I haven't been close friends with anyone in like 6 years or so, so I don't have any current or even recent examples about how being in friendships has always turned out Russian Roulette for me. My therapist doesn't seem to believe how bad it was for me to be in friendships where I was unintentionally FP'ing someone. Because besides the depression and anxiety (and mild OCD), I'm a totally normal person to her who's just dealing with shit health problems and grief (and frustration from being trans and not in a safe place to transition). Y'know, normal life problems most people will feel at some point, just chronic in my case. I may be weird, but I'm obviously far from the worst she's seen. I'm not uniquely mentally ill.

((Except the whole 'treatment resistant depression' diagnosis bullshit from the psych, but I'm learning it's not just mental issues I have that are treatment resistant lol.))

I tried talking to her about a small part of all this before, but IDK what I did wrong, she took it 100% as me being the one unintentionally wronged and not setting MY own boundaries (lmao), so like I don't know how to word this in a way she'd understand that most of my problems in this area were my own fault. (I mean that both negatively and neutrally, because it's an ugly side of mental illness, but not one I chose or know how to help.)

Not being in close friendships with anyone has had an understandably sane-ifying effect on me (barring the, y'know, depression/anxiety/OCD and baseline weirdness), which has gotten me trapped for the 5th time in 6 years of making my therapists believe I'm better off than I actually am. (I've done this to every therapist I've ever had before that, too.) But like, again, at least for the past 3 therapists and the latest psych, I AM actually better for not having close friends lmao. Only one therapist ever had one visit of me wanting to address these concerns specifically while they were currently active, and by the next visit, we had to shift exclusively to sudden new grief lol. (What a shitshow. It somehow always ends up that whenever I wanna treat an illness, it's like opening a can of worms, except the worms are firecrackers and I didn't set the can down and step back a few feet.)

Like, it obviously feels safer to not have close friends at all because there's no fear of abandonment if I have no one to begin with. And, genuinely, I operate better when I'm alone. But now that I've known safety, it's hard to imagine throwing myself back into the roulette wheel, hoping I don't land on red OR black. But fuck, man. It is lonely.

And being aro? It's freeing, and validating too, to have a word for it, but I'm not gonna mince words here, I hate it. I wish I could feel romantic love. Like normal, not mentally ill ""love."" I feel platonic love all the time, like for friends (not FP) always. I love saying 'I love you' to friends and meaning it. But I want to feel romantic love. I just don't. I just feel friendship, Favoriting, and/or sexual attraction sometimes. Probably why I'm so into shipping and fanfics. I got a lot more "probably why's" but I don't wanna go down that in this already vulnerable post lol. (I already made a whole post about one of the why's back in like 2013 or 14 lmao, without connecting it to this.)

Anyway, I put this whole mental illness and relationships deal into ugly imagery in a current fic WIP I'm working on, since recognizing I was aro took living through FP'ing a few 'romantic' relationships, before I even first heard the term FP. I only saw my experiences as 'I don't think I've been experiencing love' and that by itself felt like it fit. I didn't realize there was anything wrong, even as I outwardly said shit like 'I don't think I'm fit for being in a relationship' to the few people who asked me out, even when I wanted to say yes.

And then I kept trying to make relationships work lmao. I don't know why I even bothered. I just wanted to be wrong about being aro, especially when it was a point of contention (aro and ace separately) with some of the relationships.

I'd probably have to meet another aro person of the exact same flavour of aromanticism to make it work, but even then the mental illness would just be a ticking time bomb. No one wants to be the recipient of FP 'affection', except maybe sometimes the fictional people in a certain fiction trope that winds up being fetishistic, even if it's not intended to insult real people (but sometimes it is). And it's just a reminder of how I was probably a big source of toxicity for probably half the people who have ever been close with me, if it's even half of how fiction portrays people with this symptom.

I dunno where I wanted to end this vent, so here's probably a good place. Just wanted to get this off my chest, because it just now felt like a pretty big revelation that my problems weren't related to romanticism, I've had purely platonic instances of this dating back to being an older kid, and more during high school, and I just never connected the two before now.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 42 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

42. home sweet home  

Although all you wanted in the world was to return home when you were trapped in The Continental, you find as you pull up the driveway you suddenly feel the tiniest bit of trepidation, just a hint of nervousness for living alone in this isolated mountain retreat here with John.

You want to trust him with all your heart, blithely steadfast in your confidence as much as your love. But there is a tiny whisper of doubt creeping up from the dungeons in the back of your mind.

You do not think John is insane. You do, however, believe he experienced a bit of a psychotic break in the days when he first took you, a bomb loaded with the pressures of past battle trauma, excruciating grief, and fear of losing control-i.e. you. 

He’d been so good to you in the city, but the last time you dwelled in this glorified cabin, you cannot forget that up to the last hours, you were a prisoner. 

Now, you’ve agreed to marry this man, and he holds your hand as you walk through the door on your own power, like things were always normal between you.  

Maybe you’re the crazy one, because you resolve to lift your chin and plow forth as though nothing bad had happened here. What you want is here in the present, and shining in the future. What do you have to gain, by dwelling on the past? You will put it behind you. Not forgotten–but forgiven. You know that is the only real way your love will survive–will thrive. Yet you also know, deep down, this vow you make to yourself will be easier said than done. 

You bring in your suitcases, and look over the repairs that were finalized while you were gone. It all looks essentially good as new. The bullet holes in the walls have been patched. There’s a new rug in the great room; there was no getting the blood out of the old one. 

Dog seems happy to be home too, trotting around and sniffing, making sure all is in its proper place in his domain.

You lose track of John in the big house; when you go searching for him, you find him just standing in the kitchen, staring at the place where one of the intruders had nearly ended him with a knife–before you shot them in the throat. Certain he’s having one of his flashbacks, you call out to him in a gentle voice, trying to talk him back from it without startling him. You’re no doctor, of course, but you may have fallen into some Google spirals about how to care for someone with PTSD at the Continental. 

Finally he responds to your voice, turning towards you with a haunted look in his eyes. “It’s ok,” you soothe him, reaching for him now that he’s woken from his trance. “We’re ok.” You think you actually believe it, too. He wraps you up in a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply. You stand like that in the kitchen, just hugging, for what feels like an hour, but is probably only five minutes. 

“Do we…need to go somewhere else?” you ask quietly, sad at the thought of leaving the cabin, but wondering if fresh surroundings might be better. 

“No,” he insists. “Unless you want to.” Offering you this choice even just a month ago would have  been an impossible thing for him. 

“I’m fine, so far. I still like it here.” 

He nods, and presses his forehead to yours. “Y/n…” He sighs. “When I lost Helen, I wanted to die. Then, I wanted to survive, but just to kill. But you…you made me want to live again. It’s all I could think, while I was fighting. I want to live. For you.”

You kiss him softly; soon it grows into a heady lock of lips, John’s arms around you lifting you to your tiptoes. Between kisses he asks, “Can I take you upstairs?” 

This is the thing that gives you pause. Maybe the kitchen is the traumatic room in the house for John, but that luxurious bedroom upstairs has been your personal Bastille for the past months, and for a moment you freeze, finding that you are afraid to take the leap of faith with him. 

It’s his turn to offer comfort, when he notices your reluctance, and just maybe interprets it correctly. “It’s alright,” he assures you. “Come with me. Let me show you something.” With your hand in his he leads you up the stairs. Your steps are slow, but he doesn’t drag you along, being patient with you. When you cross the threshold of the bedroom your heart is pounding in your chest like it damn well means to escape through your ribcage, but you force yourself to take one more step with him to the keypad by the door. 

He starts punching in a long sequence of numbers, then he takes you utterly by surprise when he presses your hand to the sensor. The keypad is mounted so high you can barely reach it.  A few moments later the little green light flashes. “There. See?”

He shuts the door and you jump at that familiar, dreaded, click. “John?” You hate how small and needy your voice sounds. 

“Put your hand up, honey.” 

With your heart in your throat you reach up to touch the sensor, reluctant as though you almost suspect a trick. But then the lock on the door clicks open. 

You aren’t proud of the sob of relief that escapes you. John catches you up in his arms again, holding you. Until he wrapped you up, you didn’t realize that you were shaking. “There now, see?” he says soothingly, just like you’d spoken to him in the kitchen. “It’s yours, honey. Everything I have is yours.” 

A long, brittle sigh escapes you as you bury your nose in his neck. It doesn’t really register for you, what he means by that statement. All that matters are his arms around you, and that fucking door is open. “All I want is you,” you tell him, and you mean it.

“You’ve got me. I’m ok. Are you ok?”

You nod, offering a watery but genuine smile. He kisses your cheeks, which you didn’t realize were wet with tears. “My sweet girl. You have the biggest heart. What are you doing with a devil like me?” 

Your laugh sounds shaky too–did he forget that at first, he didn’t really give you a choice? “Having the adventure of a lifetime?”

He huffs at that, as amused as you are. Suddenly you are weightless as he hoists you in his arms, and takes you to the bed. 

He doesn’t say it aloud, but you fancy that you feel it. Every kiss he presses to your aching skin, every soft caress, feels embedded with apology, and you accept it. With open arms, you take it all. 

***

You wake before John from your post-coital nap. It’s late afternoon. You can tell, from the sideways light streaming through the windows. Quietly you slide out of bed, picking up your clothes in a bundle because you haven’t unpacked your robe yet from your suitcase. You dress downstairs, so you will not wake him. 

Knowing someone will have to go to the store soon, you browse the pantry for a snack, finding a granola bar. You go stand by the windows while you eat it, looking out at the forest. That is when, out the corner of your eye, you realize the light on the lock control on the front door is green. 

You can’t remember the last time that happened. 

When you’d unwittingly wandered into Wick’s lair after that hike for coffee and sundries? It wasn’t even quite a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime. 

You cannot stop yourself now. Your feet move on their own to the door, trying the knob. 

It turns freely, and so of course, you pull. 

The portal swings open, so naturally, you step outside. 

The early fall air is crisp, and has never smelled so sweet. You lift your face to the sun, soaking it in. 

Have you arrived? Is this the life you always wanted for yourself? 

You decide to wander, just a little. You walk around the driveway, stretching your legs, and then you meander to the edge of the woods. It’s almost as though the trees are calling you. You take a step, and then another, until you are in the forest, and you are happy. 

You’re not really gone long. Maybe twenty minutes, all in all, just a tiny little ramble. You pass back through the front door as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to wake John. You start, when you find him sitting at the kitchen island, with his head in his hands. You are startled, when you realize he’s been crying. 

“John?” You practically leap across the floor to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He grabs you up in arms, holding you so tightly your ribs creak. “I thought…you’d left,” he admits quietly. He squeezes you again, shuddering as he buries his face in your hair. He doesn’t say more, but you think you might know the rest. The fact that he was sitting in the kitchen, and not tearing through the woods after you…if that was your decision, would he have let you go? 

You freeze, your breath ceasing, your very heart screeching to a stop in your chest. 

This man. 

How is it possible, for so much love to fit inside your insignificant shell of a body, for this man?

You draw back to look at him, really look at him, those mocha dark puppy eyes that tear your heart to shreds fixed on yours. “I’m never going to leave you, John.” It spills from your lips before you can even think about it, but once its out you realize it’s absolutely true. After everything he put you through…you still just know you will never be happy, without him by your side. Nothing and no one else will do. 

A psychologist would have a fucking field day with you. They would say things like Stockholm Syndrome and shared trauma bond, abandonment issues and codependent relationship. You would tell them to fuck the fuck off–and that Stockholm Syndrome is made-up bullshit devised by two male psychologists in the seventies to describe ‘hysterical female behavior’. 

You’ve known people who have made worse decisions for much less reward.

“I will always come back to you,” you tell him. “You’re stuck with me now. Like…a wart that won’t go away.” 

This makes him laugh, and it’s such a beautiful sight. You kiss his tears away, then his mouth. It soon turns into another tonsil-inspecting affair that leaves you both breathless. “I’m going to have to take you back upstairs now,” he says with a sniff, only half joking. 

“How about you take me to the grocery store? It’s going to be dinner time soon.”

He chuckles at that, nods, and kisses your forehead. “Okay.”

It’s almost like you’re an old married couple already.

[yourstrulyrika]

hey guys did u miss me :3 i am most likely back !!! i feel like i owe everyone an actual explanation what happened that i disappeared for a moment;

first, i was really sick and couldn’t really do a thing, and if i had the energy, i had no motivation, then i got 100$ stollen from me so i basically had a really low episode. sorry for the inactivity, i was sick for almost three weeks & had to go to doctors multiple times. there was more, but i don’t want to dump it all here, since it’s literally a fic post and those things are private so um!! yk.

either way, here comes the actual post, and then i’ll actually get to my rqs so no worries, i’m not missing anyone out! i might be just a biiiiit rusty. just a bit. i lowkey hate this i think

leon x fem!reader, of course it’s a smut, soft soft soft, soft dom!leon, lovelovelovelove, leon letting you try to ride him basically

the last thing Leon likes is being vulnerable. well, one of the last things. he hates being seen as weak, emotional. he’s the strong person of the relationship, he can’t show his emotions right? he’s so deep into that headspace that it was almost impossible to pull him out. he always found an excuse to not let you take care of him.

you would try and suggest taking control in bed, and he always found a way to make you stop thinking about it. it’s not that Leon doesn’t trust you. he trusts his darling more than anyone else, even himself sometimes, but letting someone take control over him just.. sounds weird. to him. he’s also nervous about lying back down and letting you do the job. what if you won’t like it or something? he doesn’t want to mess up. it’s just that Leon doesn’t know what to do when he’s not taking care of someone or when he’s not being ordered around.

when he finally agreed though, he still kept his hands on your hips. not bruising, but it’s still there, large hands holding onto your hips, controlling the pace. he’s not ready to let go fully, he has to hold onto even the slightest bit of control. it brings him a peace of mind in its own way.

but you also bring a peace of mind to him, and he finds himself letting go, even if a little. the feeling of your walls surrounding his length is enough to make him go stupid. Leon has always been quick to grow pussydrunk on you. every time you squeeze around him, he thinks he might bust a nut right there at this moment. the fact you’re so beautiful doesn’t help either; he finds himself losing in the sight of you all the time, his eyes blown out, that stormy blue of his almost nonexistent with his pupils wide.

“Goddamn, your grip on me isn’t fair…” he half whines half grunts it out — it’s true, though. you don’t even have to do anything and he’s already on his knees if you need him to. only for you though — there’s no way anyone else would ever have this type of grip on him. you’re squeezing him so damn hard, he’s losing his mind. he can’t help himself — he agreed to you taking control but he finds himself thrusting his hips up, taking over the pace because your pussy just feels too good.

when you stop moving your hips, he whines. he was feeling so good, but you took it away! looking at you with blown out eyes, he pouts his lips, only for you to remind him he’s supposed to let go. he knows you want him to relax and let you take control— but he just can’t, not fully. still, he tries.

his hands hold onto the fat of your hips, lifting your hips up and down, making you bounce on him, his heavy balls slapping against your ass and making loud clapping noises echoing through the room.

“Fuckkk, your pussy’s so damn good.. can’t hold back when you’re gripping me so fucking hard, feels ‘s warm,” your slick leaks down onto his pelvis, both of your juices mixing into a mess, your sweat mingling with his. one of his hand trails up, pulling you down to wrap his lips around your breast, suckling on it as if you were about to start leaking milk. you tug on his hair, clenching around his fat cock which causes him to groan around your nipple, resulting in you arching your back. he pulls away just a bit to attach his lips to your neck, a faint grin forming on his lips every time you react to his touch. he got you too dumb on his cock for you to keep reminding him that it’s his turn to be lying down and just taking it, just as pussydrunk he is on you, and he’s planning to use it. he still keeps you on top of him but he’s thrusting in and out of you so fast you can’t quite catch up, his pillowy lips all over you making you feel dizzy. you can feel his cock starting to throb and him getting just a tiny bit bigger. he’s relentlessly hitting your sweet spot which has you mewling for him, just the way he loves. it doesn’t take long before you cream all over his thick length, your toes curling and walls pulsing with every heartbeat of yours. soon enough, Leon follows suit, thick cum bursting out into deep your guts.

when both of you cool off from the peak, you grumble about how it was supposed to be him being the submissive one for once, but he just laughs it off with a kiss on your nose before speaking with that grin of his,

“Maybe one day, sweetheart. Gotta work up for it.”

[krvrawr]

The Christmas Gift !

[PT; The Christmas Gift ! END PT.]

Ghost x TransMale! Reader

[ PT; Ghost x TransMale! Reader END PT. ]

WARNINGS;

[ PT; warnings END PT. ]

Pre-Everything Reader ( needs more fics tbh ), Riding, P In V, Afab Anatomy, lemme know if i missed anything 🤗

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A/N;

[ PT; A/N END PT. ]

Merry ( late ) Christmas & New Year to everyone !! ( especially to trans dudes / transmascs that are pre everything <3 ), ALSO NEW DIVIDER 🎉🎉 ALSO I WAS PLANNING TO POST THIS FIC BEFORE BUT I GOT SICK 😞 so its like christmas themed fic <3

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

visual smut ; ★ !!

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS ONE IF U R A CIS WOMAN, FEM ALIGNED, SHE/HER AND SHE/THEY ETC.

( see our other works, pls. if u dont dni, u r getting blocked. on sight. pls have it stated somewhere in bio, pinned that u r not one fem aligned. )

It was Christmas day, you woke up relaxed and with joy. You woke up before everyone, getting ready to wake up everyone. After everyone gathering, opening gifts, eating breakfast, lunch, dinner etc. Everyone talking with each other, joking etc.

The only thing ringing in your mind was when Ghost said, “Gonna decorate you like a Christmas gift.” with his British accent. You thought he was only joking but it turns out he wasn't.

When you two get in your shared room, he was giving your neck so many kisses and sucks, which would turn into hickeys later. His actions made you whimper while you held his waist tightly and leaned your neck to the side.

“You're such a handsome boy.” Ghost said against your neck, feeling his hot breath against your neck, in return you held onto him more.

“Am I making you wet baby?” He asked kissing your neck to your ear, you whimpered with a nod to in response. He backed away his head away from your assaulted neck and held your chin to look at him.

“You need to use words remember?” The man said to you, slightly rubbing your chin.

“I know.” You muttered, “Just please.” You whined for him to start the action.

“Patience boy.” Ghost demanded, sounding some-what stern. You looked at him, slightly grinding your body against his. Ghost chuckled at the action, you felt his hands on your waist.

“You want it badly huh?” He asked with a grin while you nodded.

“How about we turn it different this time?” He said with an idea in his mind which made you look at him curiously.

Now you were on his lap, naked with Christmas's bows on both of your tits and pelvis and with pretty choker with jingle bell that fitted your neck perfectly. You slowly rode Ghost, your cunt clenching around his cock deliciously as you went up and down on him. You stared down at the man in awe as Ghost tried to restrain himself, from bucking his hips up, while holding your thighs tightly. Ghost has allowed you to take control tonight, completely giving himself to you. Which means he has to do whatever you say, even if it means stopping himself from what he really wanted. To fuck you until you're screaming, trembling and crying. A low growl could be heard that escaped Ghost's mouth while it being rough, its also pitiful. It turns into a slight whimper when you rise up and sit heavily on his cock, warm and tight, one of Ghost's hands reaches over to your tits, squeezing it which makes you squirm in surprise.

“Good boy.. that's it.” You praised breathlessly as his grip on your thighs tighen, not enough to hurt you. Ghost's whines are sounding so precious to your ears with mixed sound of your chokers bell as he keens at the praise. His hips jolting up a little before remembering they have to stay in place.

Another, “Good boy” could be heard from your breathless and shaking form as another orgasm washes over him, his second one of the night.

“Just a bit longer,” you trembled out panting and Ghost closed his eyes, muscles tensing but obeys, making you smile.

“Good boy” You praised him as you felt his cock releasing warm, thick and sticky seed inside of you, causing you to release your own climax.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hero

found u on AO3 and loved u immediately, your writing style is incredible and i’ve binged all your stories :) crack request popped into my mind the other day and i thought i’d share—> the pinocchio phenomenon about “my nose will grow” (i’m sure you’re familiar) except for its the sides (prob logan bc experiment) trying it on janus- “janus will be summoned” or something to that effect idk ily please never stop writing <3 – bumblebea2712

Okay, so I've been thinking about something for a while. In your fic, Silver Box, where Roman has that box labeled 'Ego' with all the positive reinforcement in it? What if one of the things that gets whispered from it is when c!Thomas told Roman "you're my hero"? Like, especially with the angst from POF/SvS Redux. Thinking about how Roman misinterpret Janus' nod as 'Thomas is lying' when he actually meant that Thomas was still the truth when calling Roman his hero again. I wanna see Janus trying to correct him and be like "that nod meant he was telling the truth, he still thinks of you as his hero, he still cares about you", etc. Just some Roman, Janus, and c!Thomas angst all bundled up with hurt/comfort. I have THOUGHTS, and so I wanted to share :3 – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

If you're up to requests rn, could we have a Sanders Sides fic where Thomas himself is actually present maybe? – anon

Hey, would you be interested in perhaps writing a story where Logan assumes Roman is stupid because he isn’t articulate, and one day Roman has enough and is trying so hard to explain to Logan why he’s wrong but he doesn’t know the right way to phrase things so he just ends up getting more and more upset while Logan isn’t listening? – anon

Hey! I love your work (I’m definitely a Roman angst enjoyer 😅, but all of it’s good!!). If you’re open to requests, I was thinking about the control that Patton has over Roman because like,, a prince fights for honor. For good. And who decides what those concepts mean? Patton does. In some way, he controls Roman’s narrative. Anyways, h/c with Roman and potentially protective Remus. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self esteem issues, self doubt, slightly unsympathetic logan and patton

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5984

"What honor is there that I can find now? What—how do I know what is right anymore? I've been behind a sword for so long, I fear…I fear I'm forgetting who I am without it." His breath comes out shakier. "And I fear…if I were to ever try to explain this to someone who wasn't you, my words would come out so clumsy they would impale me on their rusted edges." "There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all." "If only it were something that would be listened to."

Thomas sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, I think—is that all we're gonna be able to get done today?"

"I have no qualms about continuing, but I do not think it would be productive."

"I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you go around in circles again and again," Virgil groans, long ago giving up the pretense of standing and paying attention, his forehead pressed against the stairs railing, "just call it here and let us go."

"Now, kiddo, that's not a very sporting attitude!" Patton puts his hands on his hips. "If Thomas thinks we're all involved in this discussion, then there's no point if trying to discount your own importance."

"I'm not discounting my own importance, I'm questioning my relevance." He glares through a gap in the bars at Logan. "This whole thing isn't gonna make me think it's not worth being cautious about, no matter how much L tries to talk me out of it. I'm Anxiety. Literally it's my job to be irrational sometimes. By definition—"

"But we've previously established that you do have some semblance of logical reasoning at points, and this could very well be one of those points—"

"Okay." Thomas cuts Logan off with a wave of his hand. "I think—yeah, I think we're done. I'm sorry, Logan, but I don't—we're kind of at an impasse."

"Here's an idea." Virgil's hand flops lazily up in a parody of raising his hand. "Why don't we ask someone whose literal job it is to come up with ideas?"

Logan's nose wrinkles momentarily and he sighs. "I do not see the value in asking either Roman or Remus to weigh in on this discussion when it has nothing to do with them."

"Uh-huh, so you wanna try to do the create-an-idea thing without the Sides whose job it is to do that?"

"We are all capable of coming up with ideas, Virgil, Roman and Remus simply represent Thomas's Creativity."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil heaves himself up onto an elbow. "When's the last time you came up with an idea for an experiment on your own?"

"Preposterous. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own experiments."

"Do it. Right now."

"We are in the middle of discussing—"

"No, no," Thomas says, "please, I could use a break from thinking about this."

Logan's mouth works for a second. "Very well. Let's see…ah. A spin on the Pinocchio paradox."

"The what?"

"The Pinocchio paradox. A simple thought experiment on what would happen if the character, Pinocchio, uttered the words: 'My nose will grow now.' An interesting thought, given that—"

"That his nose grows when he lies and if it does grow then he told the truth which means it wouldn't grow which means he lies, sure, sure, sure, what does that have to do with anything?"

Logan adjusts his ties and raises a finger. "Janus will now appear."

Everyone in the room pauses, listening for the telltale whoosh of a Side appearing. Which it does, a few seconds later, and Logan gets cuffed on the shoulder.

"What was that for?"

"I'm not an experiment," Janus says, a bit too amused to be an indictment, "and am perfectly capable of showing up to slap you for being an idiot."

"See? Experiment successful."

"That's not—okay." Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. "Janus, while you're here, you might as well weigh in on this."

'"Being arbitrarily asked to choose a side with little to no context as to what the options are? My favorite." He claps his hands a few times. "What am I choosing between?"

"Would it be better if I responded to this email now, saying that I'm not available for a call for the rest of the day, or should I wait and just call back tomorrow when I am free?"

"Ooh, what an interesting dilemma. How badly will your life be impacted by a negative outcome to this call?"

"Don't fucking start with me, J," Virgil warns, studiously ignoring Patton's language, "I know you've been listening this whole time."

"Oh, you're no fun." Virgil tips him a lazy two-fingered salute and he sighs. "Very well. Thomas, do you want to respond to this now?"

Thomas frowns. "What? Isn't that what you all are here for?"

"We can manifest different parts of you trying to figure something out, but that doesn't mean you don't have your own thoughts about it that aren't us. What do you want to do?"

"This line of questioning is pointless. Thomas has established that he doesn't know what he wants and he's asked us—well, I suppose that now includes you—what to do."

Janus slides his gaze to Logan, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Logan."

"Thomas? Is that an inaccurate conclusion?"

"…I mean, not really."

Logan gestures at him. "See? There you are. Now, either we are agreeing to call the meeting here and simply wait until tomorrow, or we are going to rehash the same arguments from the past hour and quite frankly, I think there is a better use of our time."

"Why are the twins not here?"

"Excuse me?"

"The twins. The ones who are good at coming up with solutions to problems." Janus glances around. "They seem conspicuously absent from this meeting where we are trying to come up with a solution to something."

"That's what I was saying."

Logan sighs, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright, if you insist. I do not see what sort of valuable insight they will be able to give us, but if you all want to hear what they have to say, then I suppose I cannot object."

Thomas smiles and reaches out to summon Creativity. A moment later, Roman appears in front of the TV, wincing.

"Thomas?"

"Hey, Roman, we, uh, we were hoping you could help us out."

Roman rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room. "Uh, sure. What, uh, what with?"

"Thomas is struggling to choose between responding to a missed phone call and voicemail with either an email today apologizing and explaining his availability tomorrow, or simply calling back tomorrow when he is immediately available," Logan says smoothly. "Which option do you think is preferable?"

Roman just blinks at him for a long second. When Logan raises his eyebrows expectantly, his shoulders hunch a little and he curls in on himself. "I, um, I don't know."

"Just as I suspected. Very well, thank you Roman, you may go."

"Wait, what?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Virgil says, sitting up, "that's not fair, he's been here, what, all of two seconds?"

"Yes, and has just admitted that he doesn't have an answer to us, which is not a productive way to continue this conversation, therefore he can go."

"Wait, Logan—" Thomas holds his hand out, silently asking Roman to stay, "can't we just—how's he gonna be able to actually give his opinion if he doesn't have time to make one?"

"Roman, are the facts I've given to you unclear?"

"Huh? N-no—"

"Do you believe you have a firm enough grasp of the situation to form a conclusion?"

"I mean, yeah, I get it, but—"

"And you still don't know what option you prefer?"

Roman's quiet for a moment, his outstretched hand slowly returning to his side. "…no."

Logan nods. "Settled, then."

"Come on, Logan," Janus says, frowning a little now, "just because you didn't want him here doesn't mean you can throw him away as soon as he's said one thing that vaguely aligns with what you wanted."

"First off, that's an incredible level of irony coming from you—" both Janus and Roman flinch— "and secondly, Roman, would you like to be part of this meeting?"

They all turn to look at Roman, who shuffles under their gazes. He keeps flicking his eyes up to Thomas, then to Patton, then to Janus, before staring back down at his hands. The buzzing of the fridge becomes oppressive. He winces and rubs the back of his neck again.

"Roman?"

"…not really."

"Then it's settled, then. Thank you for your input."

Roman glances once more at Thomas with something almost like longing before he sinks out again. Virgil, who'd been watching him closely, turns to frown at Logan. Logan adjusts his tie.

"If that's all, then, Thomas, would you still like to end the meeting here?"

"Yeah, let's…let's call it."

"Very well. I shall be available if you need me further." He sinks out.

Patton sinks out next, giving Thomas a quick thumbs-up before disappearing. Janus exchanges a brief look with Virgil before he's vanishing too, leaving just the two of them alone in the living room. Thomas puts his hands on his hips, staring at the spot where Roman was.

"So that was weird, right?"

"Yeah." Virgil grunts as he sits up, hands balled up in the pocket of his hoodie. "That…I've never seen them…do that before."

"Did Roman and Logan have a fight or something?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I've seen them argue about stuff, but they always do that and it didn't seem like it was any more, like, intense than usual, so I don't…I don't know why that happened." He shuffles. "I've also never seen Logan be that…short with Roman before."

"Yeah, like, he was here for literally, like—"

"Like two seconds—"

"And then Logan was telling him to go again. And did you notice how he kept looking—"

"At you?"

"At me, yeah, did—did I do something?"

"What? Shit, no, Thomas, I don't think that's it. I think—" he sighs— "look, he's not gonna be happy I'm telling you this, but Princey's been going through some stuff lately and I'm not sure exactly what it is but I know it's been weighing on him a lot."

Thomas frowns. "How so?"

"Well, let me put it this way: have you been daydreaming a lot more lately?"

He thinks. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess so, but I haven't been doing that much recently, which kind of makes sense, I guess?"

"Yeah, well, that's Princey in the Imagination." Thomas nods and Virgil gives him a pointed look. "I'm telling you that Princey's been going into the Imagination more."

"Yeah, that's—isn't that what he does?"

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, it is, but not like this. Normally when he goes in, he's doing it to come up with ideas or work something out, or…something. But recently…"

"But recently that doesn't feel like what he's doing," Thomas finishes, chewing on his lip, "yeah, actually, now that you mention it, it does kind of feel…different. Like—like they're…"

"Comfort," Virgil finishes quietly when he can't quite put his finger on it, "it feels like a comfort."

"Roman's going into the Imagination to comfort himself?" Virgil shrugs. "Why?"

"Like I said, he's going through some stuff. It's not—I'm not all up on how the Imagination translates to whatever your daydreams end up being, but I don't think—Princey's not even telling us what he gets up to in there."

Thomas sucks in a breath. If there's one thing he's learned after listening to them talk about whatever goes on in the Mindscape when they're not with him, it's that Roman loves to regale them with tales of his adventures in the Imagination, even if it comes at the expense of whatever else they're doing. To hear that Roman's been going off more than usual and he isn't telling them about it? Worrying, to say the least.

"When did this start?"

Virgil blows out a breath. "After the wedding."

"Shit, that's…probably not good."

"Yeah."

They both stare at the black TV. A bit of dust gets caught in a gust from the vent and sticks to the corner.

"…he's my hero," Thomas says quietly.

"Huh?"

"He's my hero. Maybe he's…maybe he's going to the Imagination to do the things heroes don't get to do."

"Okay, you gotta break that down for me a little more."

"The heroes don't get to be vulnerable. They don't get to…to actually stop and rest, not really. They have to keep going, they have to…" Thomas swallows. When did this lump in his throat get here? "They're not—oh, god, am I gonna cry?"

"Shit, shit, shit, uh—do you want me to get Patton back?"

"N-no, no, don't—" for some reason the thought of Patton reappearing sends a bolt of fear straight through his chest and he knows Virgil feels it too, shooting to his feet and watching as Thomas stumbles back to the couch— "I—oh, god."

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy," Virgil says, voice soft and low as Thomas buries his face in his hands, "take it easy, okay? You're okay, you're safe in the house, everything's okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Just a nice, deep breath, you're okay, that's it, good, now let it out…nice, do it again…"

Virgil helps talk him slowly through the well of emotion suddenly bubbling just at the base of his throat, the breaths coming out shaky but steady. Absentmindedly, he puts a hand to his chest and starts rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pressure does something to the frantic and flighty part of him, helping to soothe him back from whatever brink he hadn't realized he'd walked to.

"Hey," Virgil calls a few minutes later, "you with me again?"

"Yeah, I think so." He takes a couple more seconds just to breathe it out. "Roman's—Roman's my hero, and I don't know if he knows that I…that I still want to listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Afterwards. When I—when we were all—when the stuff happened. He said that he thought he was my hero and I told him he was and then he…"

"Freaked," Virgil finishes when he can't, "yeah, I remember."

"I don't…I don't know why that made him so upset."

"Well, hey," he says when that lump starts to come back to his throat, "let's not have you worry about that right now, okay? You—let's go do something else that'll get your mind off of it. Go rewatch the Office bloopers again, that always works."

"Will you—can you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Yeah, Thomas, I can do that. Now c'mon, those bloopers aren't going to rewatch themselves."

***

Roman walks slowly through the woods as the fireflies twinkle around him. He lifts a hand to push aside a branch, stepping through the shadows to emerge onto the thin dirt path that winds through the base of the trees. As the darkness falls, the thin blue lines grow deeper, darker, blending together to weave across the grass as little critters scurry back and forth. The whistle of the wind accompanies the crunch of his footsteps as he makes his way toward the cabin.

Movement from around the side and the man emerges, wiping dirt from his hands with a rag. He looks up and smiles as Roman approaches.

"Roman," he greets, with his voice warm, "how good it is to see you."

"I see I'm a bit too late to help with the chores." He nods to the rag. "I don't mean to impose on you."

"Nonsense, old friend, nothing you do could possibly be an imposition. As it happens, I have a stew on that I won't be able to finish by myself and it would be a great favor to me if you were to help me."

Roman chuckles. "How could I refuse?"

The man holds a hand out to him as he nears, settling it on the curve of Roman's neck and pulling him close for a brief hug of sorts. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the curve of his jaw, breathing out shakily. The man lets out a comforting noise and his fingers card through the delicate hairs at the base of his head.

"Come inside, dear friend, let the fire warm you."

"The night is warm already."

"It is young still, and will grow cold," he says as he begins to lead them up the stairs, "and you look to be the type of cold that does not thaw even in the hottest sun."

"I worry for the state of the realm sometimes, if I am truly so transparent."

"Only to me, dear friend, and only because you have seen fit to allow yourself to be so with me." He's coaxed inside a modest cabin, sat at a simple hewn table as a rich smell fills the room. He closes his eyes to breathe it in, opening them again when the low thud of a bowl and tankard draws his attention. "Eat, please. You know I can't bear a less-than-full stomach under my roof."

"You're too kind to me."

"Nonsense." The hand fits itself around his head once more. "You are worth being kind to, and even more worth allowing me to care for you. Now, come on."

The stew is simple, hearty, and as filling as he could ever want. Under the table, their legs press together, boots against boots, knee against knee. The fire crackles in the hearth as the last of the light fades from outside. He can feel his shoulders beginning to relax, the line of his body growing looser, more languid.

When they've both eaten their fill and the dishes have been set away to deal with later, he sits on the floor near the hearth and stares into the flames. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and brings his head to rest against another, light touch trailing over the bare skin under his sleeve.

"What troubles you tonight, dear friend?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Shh, none of that now. It's an honor to be troubled by your worries."

He turns his head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of clean sweat, of spiced apple, of wood smoke. "I struggle to remember what it is I fight for."

Gentle nails along his scalp. "How so?"

"What honor is there that I can find now? What—how do I know what is right anymore? I've been behind a sword for so long, I fear…I fear I'm forgetting who I am without it." His breath comes out shakier. "And I fear…if I were to ever try to explain this to someone who wasn't you, my words would come out so clumsy they would impale me on their rusted edges."

"There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all."

"If only it were something that would be listened to."

"Hey." He's nudged until he can look up at the man's face. "You once told me that all you wanted to fight for was this. For the chance for one to sit, in the peace and safety, with those they care for, and have that be alright. Is this still true?"

"Yes. But I don't—I no longer know how to do that."

The man goes quiet, contemplative, running his fingers gently over the edge of Roman's face. The touch coaxes a lump to his throat, a tear to his eye, and the man lets out another comforting noise, pulling him closer.

"Rest for the night, please, dear friend. My bed is warm, my touch willing. You fear losing who you are without your sword? Put it down for the night, stay. Remind yourself of how to enjoy the thing you fight for."

"If only I could be as persuasive as you," he mumbles, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the touch, "then I might never need a sword again."

He chuckles. "Well, I don't know if I can do all that much, but I have learned how to persuade you, my dear, and that will serve me well enough."

***

"Roman?"

Roman turns, spotting Janus as he trudges back from the Imagination. "What're you doing awake?"

"I was waiting for you."

He winces. "Sorry, I, um, did we have something planned?"

"What? No, no, sweetie, nothing like that, I only—I wanted to talk to you for a moment."

A chill works its way up Roman's spine and he suppresses a shudder, walking slowly to his room and opening the door. Janus follows him in, carefully closing it behind them and waiting while Roman tucks something into a drawer on his desk and sitting down.

"What's up?"

"Are you…are you okay?"

He flinches slightly. "Why, um, why?"

Janus looks pained. He glances around and seemingly comes to a decision before sinking down to the floor, crossing his legs and sighing. "You…seemed very upset after earlier, and I wanted to come and ask you about it."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, I wasn't—Logan was right, I wasn't going to be useful in that conversation."

"The one you were in for all of three seconds before you were being shunted out of it again?"

Roman narrows his eyes. "You know, it is kind of ironic that you of all people are worrying about that right now."

Janus barely has time to process how he feels about that sentence before Roman's eyes are widening and he's leaning back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, that came out really rude, I didn't mean that."

"You did, and that's okay. No, no—really, it is okay, Roman, you don't have to pretend like I didn't hurt you—that I'm not hurting you when I do things like that. No, no—" he stands as Roman covers his face with his hands— "please, sweetie, just—just listen to me for a second, okay?"

Roman nods, his face still hidden. Janus hesitates for a moment before gloved hands come down to rest on his shoulders. He leans down and carefully, carefully presses his chin to the top of Roman's head. Roman shudders a little under the contact but stays still.

"You've been distant lately," Janus whispers, as though afraid of breaking the silence, "and that's not a bad thing, sweetie, but it's…it seems like it's hurting you. And I'm worried because Thomas isn't—I don't know what Thomas would do without you."

Roman stiffens and immediately he knows it was the wrong thing to say. "I won't let Thomas down again, I know what I'm doing. I'm just—I'm sorry I haven't been very present lately, but I'm—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant—wait, what do you mean, 'again?'"

Roman hunches his shoulders. "I know I'm not Thomas's hero anymore, okay? You don't need to keep acting like I'm—"

"Wait, wait, sweetie." Janus crouches down, cupping Roman's face in his hands. "What do you mean, you're not Thomas's hero anymore?"

"That's what you said! After the wedding, when he said—when I said—and you nodded! Like it was a lie!" He jerks away. "We don't need to pretend that didn't happen, okay? I remember, it's not like I could forget something like that."

"No, no, Roman—no, that's not what I meant, I didn't—it wasn't a lie."

Roman goes still. He stares at Janus for a long moment, long enough for a bit of a smile to come to his face, like Roman's actually listening to him. Then Roman's expression darkens and the voice that comes out of him is darker and more venomous than anything Janus has ever heard.

"Do not lie to me."

"R-Roman—"

"No." Roman pulls away, standing up, towering over him. "You will not lie to me. Not about that, not about anything like that. Use me as your puppet all you want, everyone knows I can't stop you, but I won't let you lie to me about this. Ever."

He's already fumbling to get his gloves off, surging up and grabbing Roman in a tight hug, so close he couldn't hope to get an inch of distance between them. "I'm not lying," he hisses, almost into Roman's nose, "I'm not lying about this, Roman, I'm not. Thomas wasn't lying. You're his hero. You still are."

"Stop it—"

"My gloves are off! I can't lie with my gloves off, Thomas loves you—you're his hero—"

"Stop it!" The words leave Roman in a breathless cry and Janus is left struggling to heft his weight as his knees buckle. "Stop it, stop it—stop it, it's not true, it can't be true, it's a lie—it—it has to be—"

"Why does it have to be, sweetie?" They're back on the floor, Janus smoothing hair back from Roman's flushed face, awkwardly holding him in his lap. "Why did it have to be a lie?"

"Because—because—" he sniffles— "nothing makes sense anymore. I don't—I can't—I can't do anything."

He frowns. "What do you mean you can't do anything?"

Hands come up to circle his wrists, not to push him away, just to have somewhere else to hold onto. "Princes fight for honor, for what's good. I can't—I can't fight anymore."

Not much can break Janus's heart like hearing Roman admit something like that, fewer things still can threaten tears at the corners of his eyes like the ones badly concealed in Roman's voice. "What do you mean, sweetie? Why can't you fight anymore?"

"I don't know anything! I don't know what's good, what's honorable, what's—what's right, I can't…I'm wrong, Janus, I'm just wrong and I don't—I don't know how to be right again."

"Shh, shh, shh, easy, now, sweetie, shh…" Janus hauls him closer, pressing his mouth to his flushed cheek, still murmuring comfort. "Shh…that's it, just stay here with me a moment, okay?"

"J-Janus—"

"I'm here, sweetie, I'm right here."

Roman's stifled sobs land like mines in the room, creating a mess around them as he curls up tighter, tighter still. The door to the Imagination glistens softly and he can almost hear the distant crackle of a fireplace and that alone sends him further into the fit. Janus's hands remain gentle, holding him close, but everything keeps spinning and nothing, nothing makes sense except the hurt in his chest.

He's going to cry himself to sleep again, he realizes faintly as exhaustion starts to seep through him, but then Janus is kissing his forehead again and gently shaking him awake.

"Sweetie, listen to me: no one knows what you fight for better than you, okay? You're Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his hero—" Roman whimpers— "you do know what's right."

"N-no, I don't."

"Then who does know?"

"Patton."

Janus's blood runs cold. "Patton? Why Patton?"

"Patton's the Heart, he's M—he's Morality. He knows—he decides. I'm—I just follow." He sniffles. "And Logan—Logan, he's right, I don't—I'm so stupid—"

"That's enough, now." He runs a hand through his hair again. "That's enough, sweetie. You're not stupid. No—shh, shh, you're not. You know you're not."

"I am. I can't—I can't talk right and I don't know what I'm doing and—an' I'm just gonna mess everything up again."

Janus closes his eyes, bowing his head and taking a deep breath of his own. Cradling Roman's head to his chest, he leans down and kisses both his forehead and his cheeks, just staying there for a long, long moment. Roman's soft sobs echo gently in his ear and he tucks a stray piece of hair back from his face.

"You're not stupid," he murmurs, "you're not going to mess everything up again. You're okay. You're okay, sweetie."

Roman sniffles and shakes his head. "No, it's not. It's not okay."

"…no," Janus concedes, pulling Roman close, "I suppose it's not."

***

Not many things can happen in the Mindscape without Remus noticing, and almost nothing can happen to his brother without him showing up to knock some heads.

Case in point: when there's a tug in his gut telling him that Roman is upset, he grabs his Morningstar and sinks out without hesitating.

When he rises up in the living room, it takes less than two seconds for him to determine one: that Logan is picking on his brother, two: Patton isn't doing anything to stop him, and three: Roman is crying.

"Remus, not now," Logan sighs, "we're in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of hurting my brother."

"R-Re?" He's got his arm around Roman's shoulders in the next moment. "W-wait, I need to—I have to—I gotta explain."

"Explain what, Roro?"

Logan sighs. "Roman has been trying, unsuccessfully, to explain that we are at fault for—"

"Ah, no." Remus throws a knife at Logan. "I didn't ask you. Shush."

"Remus! Throwing knives at people isn't nice!"

"Neither is making them cry! We're all in agreement." He tucks his head against Roman's, gentling his voice. "What're you trying to explain, Roro?"

"The—" he sniffles— "Janus said I should try—try talking to them and I said it wouldn't work but he—he insisted an' I—"

"Shh, shh, take your time, Ro, you're doing great."

"Heart. Morality. Prince. Logic."

Remus's little black heart breaks in two and he wraps his arms tightly around his brother. "Oh, Ro, it's okay. It's gonna be okay, lemme get you somewhere safe and I'll do it for you, okay?"

"You don't have to—"

"Trust me, Ro-bro, I got this."

Roman sags in his arms. "O-okay."

Remus quickly bids the Imagination to open its doors and sinks Roman out, giving him a gentle push into the forest before reappearing in the living room. He cracks his knuckles and grins.

"Alright, where were we?"

Logan sighs. "Remus, I don't—"

"Ah, that's right!" Remus throws another knife at him. "You, not listening to people who can't articulate things as well as you can! Rude and ableist, Loganberry, not a good look on you."

"I am not—"

"Roman can't articulate his thoughts as well as you can and so you think you're better than him, smarter than him, and that he's not worth listening to, is that explicit enough?" Logan opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn't say anything. "Mm. And you!"

Patton yelps as Remus throws something at him too.

"You have a nasty habit of making Roman feel like a helpless little kid! You have a lot of sway over things like Thomas's sense of right and wrong and when you don't talk to Roman like he's your equal, you really fuck him up!"

"Language—"

"Don't fucking talk to me about my language," Remus says with artificial cheeriness, "talk to yourself about how not to give my brother an identity crisis!"

He stops throwing things, mainly because the rest of them are exploding or things he knows Roman would rather he didn't throw at them, no matter how tempting it is. The two of them slowly get their shit together, each with a different amount of regret. He doesn't really care about that, though, so long as they're not going to hurt Roman like that again.

"Good chat!"

And he sinks out to tackle Roman into Ollie's pond so they can have fun playing and not crying.

God, he loves his brother.

***

"Hey, Thomas?"

Thomas looks up and sees Virgil on the stairs. "Oh, hey, Virge, what's up?"

"You, uh, you asked me to keep an eye on Princey."

He sits up straight. "Yeah, what's—what's going on?"

Virgil sighs, rubbing his hands together. "There was a…not a fight, but some stuff happened. Turns out that Roman, uh, didn't believe you when you said you still thought of him as your hero and it…got bad."

"Do I want to know how bad?"

"Like, bad enough that Roman wasn't—shit, Thomas, no, I don't think you wanna know. Let's just say it was bad enough that he wasn't just going to the Imagination for comfort, he was going there because it was the only place he felt safe."

"Oh, Roman…"

"The fight—the thing was about Roman trying to explain to Patton and Logan how it fucked him up really badly, and he wasn't—you know how Roman's not always the best at explaining himself?"

"Yeah?"

"It—it wasn't really going well. Remus had to step in and do it for him."

"Wait, Remus?"

"Yeah, they're brothers. Remus—shit, Remus is really protective of Roman sometimes and this time wasn't an exception. Everyone's fine now, but it's…" Virgil sighs. "Logan and Patton have apologized and everybody's working on it, but I thought you'd want to know."

"How much stuff happens with you guys that I don't know about?"

"Honestly? I don't think you want the answer to that either."

"Jesus." Thomas scrubs a hand over his face. "Alright, well, thanks for telling me, Virgil. If…if there's anything I can do, let me know?"

Virgil nods and sinks out. Thomas puts a hand to his chest, rubbing in slow circles. There's a part of him that feels cold, still. Maybe…maybe he can figure out some way to help warm it up.

***

Roman wakes up to the sound of a crackling fire. He hums, rolling over, reaching for the edge of the bed, only to stop when his hands meet the thick red comforter. He frowns. This…this is his bed. He didn't fall asleep in the Imagination. So then why…?

He looks over and his eyes widen.

Across the room, tucked into a neat little alcove that definitely wasn't there when he went to sleep, is a merrily crackling fireplace. Above it, mounted on a gold plaque, is a cardboard sword with the words you're my hero written on it in red ink.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[hana-no-seiiki]

a/n: first full genshin fic in tumblr let’s go.

we’ve had god readers but what about god complex reader who’s a smartass.

without further ado i present to you the flowers of evil au! (which i will actually explain more in another post but for now have this)

divider by omiyours!

no beta read we die like rukkhadevata’s god friends

summary: reader is basically wanderer but a slut

cw/tw: self indulgent, wish fulfillment, manipulative! reader, asshat/arrogant! reader, implied noncon (reader gets drunk), alhaitham being incredibly horny, alhaitham being a homewrecker, kaveh doesn’t have any self esteem, very snobby ass intellectualism, mary sue/gary stu reader.

pairings: yandere! al-haitham x spy! reader x yandere! kaveh x ? ? ?

“RED ROSES BURN MY EYES”

V O L U M E ( I )

[Y/N] [L/N] is the epitome of perfection. Even amongst the scholars that excelled in their fields, and the sages that basically ruled over the Akademiya. [Y/N] always managed to stand out.

Part of that is what attracted Al-Haitham. They were intelligent, and quick-witted. He found himself effortlessly engaging in conversation for hours when it came to their banters. Everything he was looking for in a partner — both in academics, romantic and sexual side of things — could be found in [Y/N].

But there were two things he had to consider.

The first thing was their awful(ly hot) god complex.

“Told you I’d be correct.” [Y/N] sat atop his desk. Their legs crossed, practically begging to be ripped apart as the scribe fantasized of bending them over the nth time that day.

Their intoxicatingly sweet yet mature scent — of roses and old books — wafted through the air and into his nostrils. It took all he had to not pin them on his table so that he could breathe it in. He wanted their scent to be permanently ingrained within his mind like the languages and manuscripts he’d memorized to heart.

But alas he had to at least maintain a modicum of sanity and control over his hormones. He replied, trying to edge away from their form, “You don’t have to rub it in my face, [L/N].”

But it was getting rather hard when they began leaning over “Fair is fair, Scribe. You get to gloat when you win, and I as well during the many triumphs I have over you. So, what are you supposed to say in this situation?”

“I was wrong to go against your judgement.”

You poke his nose. A mocking grin on your disgustingly pretty features, “I knew you had it in you.”

He could tolerate the first thing. In fact, he found it attractive at times. It’s what attracted him to the idea of dating them; owning them, the desire to rip that smug look on their face. To make their face contort to that of unfettered desire. To bring them down and off their high horse and instead kneeling — yearning for his touch, his lips, his cock.

The second thing was the fact that they were dating his roommate. That darned Kaveh.

“My love.” Al-Haitham could swear Kaveh smirked at him as the latter mouthed his petname for you.

“You’re late.”

“They’re sending me away for a project.”

“What?” Oh, [Y/N]’s concerned face however? Hurt even more. The palpable love between the couple made him want crush the book within his hands and throw its remains across the library. He’d tell you two to get a room if he didn’t want eyes on you 24/7.

“It’s just another construction. I’ll be back soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Al-Haitham couldn’t help but stare at your back while the two of you left him alone.

Was that a smile - no - a smirk on your features?

It was a mistake on your part. You should have known not to get drunk on enemy territory.

But your one success as a spy finally came. You had to celebrate somehow, right?

Wrong.

In your mistake in judgement you found yourself tangled with Al-Haitham of all people. How’d he even get drunk enough to sleep with you anyways? He couldn’t have purposely have sex with you, could he? All your interactions have been those of rivals and friends at most.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“We’re adults [L/N]. You don’t have to act like this.” Stop acting like this. Al-Haitham wanted to scream. He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed your presence so dearly. If only you could see the mess that had been his room and office.

“Exactly. Adults. I can make my own choices and I choose not to interact with you. I’m doing this for the sake of staying civil. For Kaveh.”

“I’ll tell him about your lord.” You paused.

No, you couldn’t have. Your [e/c] orbs slowly turned a velvet red while he continued his speech. Were you that careless? Were the words your co-workers used to describe you true?

That you were an absolutely useless, reckless piece of rot?

“The way you screamed his name while I—“

His? Ah, so he didn’t know their name. You probably just screamed My Lord and he automatically assumed…

He’s bluffing.

“Then go ahead.” You couldn’t help but grin knowing that you finally didn’t mess up in a mission. So what if he said those words to Kaveh, your mission to distract the Light of Kshahrewar had been a success. All you needed was to leave once everything had been finalized and your god had been reborn. “This may not be Focalors’s nation, but this sort of conduct could get you in jail, Scibe.”

“By who? Cyno hates me, sure. But if there’s one person he loathes more than me it’s you.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“No, [Y/N]. We’ll talk about this now.”

“Why are you so persistent—“

“Because I love you!”

Al-Haitham grabbed unto your face, squeezing so tightly you knew it’d bruise, “I think about you every single day, hour, minute — every damn second even. I can’t get a single paper fully transcribed because I always end up writing your name over and over again as if I’ll forget it any second.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t love me. No. That isn’t supposed to happen.”

“[L/N]. I know you’re a skeptic but doubting my feelings is—“

“You were never my target.”

Al-Haitham gasped as red petals enveloped his entire body.

“My lord. May you forgive this forsaken soul. Grant this servant a place beside your holy being as you ascend—“

His throat, his nose, even his eyes — all burnt under the heavy scent of roses.

“and accept this sacrifice.”

You looked at him solemnly. If only you weren’t so incompetent, he wouldn’t have been roped into this.

Your time with the roommates was fun while it lasted.

“Oh Lord of Flowers.”

[FOOTNOTE:]

In the end, [Y/N] could not kill him. It was always like this. Their missions always went wrong. It’s anyone guess really — why they haven’t been thrown away by their lord. They were defective at best. Completely useless at worst.

So they were commanded to be a honey trap. Someone made to lure in and distract an assigned target while the rest of the Zuhur, came in to assassinate and/or thieve around.

“Kaveh.” You greeted. Shit, you shouldn’t have gone back to his place to check for lose ends. Wasn’t he supposed to be away anyhow? What was he doing in the Akademiya?

“Where are you going?”

“I—I’m leaving.” You had recently finished drugging Al-Haitham and sending him to the sages to deal with. Time was ticking, and you had to be there for when your new master breathes his first as a brand new god. “to get some samples for research. Meet up with the Forest Rangers and all that.”

“Does lying to me get you off or something?” Kaveh stopped you in your tracks, he didn’t have to hold you still, the hurt in his voice was enough.“I know about it. About your affair with Haitham.”

“Then—“

“And I’m fine with it.”

“What?”

“You- You can meet up with him all you like. I already knew someone like me couldn’t possibly satisfy a being such as you.”

“Just don’t leave me ever. Please?”

“Kaveh . . .”

“I promise to never get between you guys. I swear I-I’m not jealous at all. You deserve to receive all the love you can get.”

“Kaveh!” You cried. Who was this person? The Kaveh you knew was loud and boisterous. In fact, you used him and Al-Haitham as a basis to create [Y/N]. The prodigy of the Akademiya.

Who was this weak, broken person that trembled in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, alright? Not the other way around.”

“What…?”

“Stay safe and get as far away as you can from the Grand Sage in the next few weeks alright?” You continued your journey away, only stopping to say a few words, “I love you. Truly.”

“If you love me, why would leave me?!”

“I have to.” You clenched your hands, and disappeared.

“(Wardati) وردتي … “

TRANSLATIONS:

flowers = zuhur

وردتي = my rose

[mushyposts]

New ocs 👀

Or is just pov and I am confused 🤔

Either way I am so excited to see!!!!!

I also am kinda wondering what are you fire Nation laws?(Everyone has different ones)

not a new OC! Som very special people are getting POV's in the next chapter hehehe... Im not too sure what you mean by laws, so im gonna take it as a general "What are the major laws thatll effect the fic" kind of thing! The Fire Nation has legal banishment for everyone, which I mentioned offhandedly in the fic. You can send a document to the Fire Lord, but usually its seen by his representatives for that area, to get someone you are legally in charge of (your children, adopted or not, anyone ur the legal guardian of, OR if they've committed treason under the military branch ur in control of! although that can sometimes open u up to speculation, why are so many in ur command questioning our great nation??? What are you teaching them?) banished, this can be conditional (like Zuko's was) or it can be permanent. Sexuality isnt spoken about, theres technically no laws around homosexuality as it isnt even given as an OPTION, the only law that mentions it is that any relationship not mentioned by Agni's words, is not permitted and is seen as a crime against Agni, and is punishable by conditional banishment or even death in some spaces. Since Sozin removed any mention of homosexuality, polyamory, or honestly any relationship/gender outside the cishet binary, this means that without even MENTIONING the idea of homosexuality, as they did not want to even give a name to it as name is power, they've made it functionally illegal. Agni Kai MUST be fought between the parties who initiated it. The one who asks, the one who accepts, unless the Fire Lord says otherwise. This includes him taking the place of, or even permitting (read: Forcing) others to take place for either party. This is meant to be used to protect members who may be unable to properly fight, but still need to have their honour protected. It is. NOT used in that way, usually used as a way for two people engaged in an Agni Kai to try get as better fighter as they can OR Ozai may swap strong benders for weaker one where he wishes another party to win. There arent many laws around women or men's roles. Its more so centric around bender or non-bender. If you can bend, you're expected to do military service on the battle grounds. If you cant, then youre expected to do compulsory military service as a desk worker or something of the sorts. very low ranking, but still something. Very rare for non-benders to climb up the ranks, this got more prevalent during Ozai's rule. I think for the most part the Fire Nation would rule through the unsaid, the inexplicit. Propaganda, subtle laws, technicalities. Keeping their nation as in the dark as they can, lack of proper education/severely distorted education (This is displayed in canon too when Aang goes to the fire nation school.) and it was done slowly, subtly over the years of the war, through twisted narratives. I do believe in explicit laws being present, of course, but I also think sometimes the most dangerous of things said, is what is left unsaid. Lack of explicit, direct legislation, also would give Ozai the opportunity to use loopholes, or consistently falling on Agni's word seeing as he is Agni's will on earth, he can do whatever TF he wants. Less explicit, the better for him in the long run. UH! Thats all I can think of at this point hehe. Also to be clear I havent actually watched LOK, nor have I read all the comics, so this is all based on my own world building after years of obsession w ATLA and atp im too attached to it to let the other stuff change my mind i am SORRY... I also just dont have time ot read all the comics and watch LOK.

[katthyacinth]

✨Trust Exercises!✨

Hi! This is a fic that I had on Ao3 its just a small scenario where you yes u reader pitch Charlie a great idea for a hotel bonding activity. no romance or anything just a fun scene.

“And you never make me do anything with this lousy picture box again, this face was made for radio darling” You hear Alastor say to Vaggie as you catch the ending of their conversation that you were totally not paying attention to, although what he said made you have a thought. “Wait I just realized that means have you never played a video game Alastor?” you vocalize immediately as the thought leaves your mind. He and Vaggie turn to you lying on the couch on your phone, realizing they forgot you were there. “No darling that sounds like an awful experience since games should be fun and nothing concerning this piece of junk ever is,” he says whacking the side of the old TV. You make a face and sigh “Too bad I feel like you would love some of them, I'm trying to determine whether you'd be more of an fps guy or an RPG guy but I think an fps would be too complex for you to start on…” you pause rambling to yourself. Maybe something 8-bit because those are more old school, well to my time, like oh-” you shoot up from your seat your eyes almost sparkling as a great idea pops in your brain. Vaggie makes a concerned face as you stand up and dart out of the room. “I'M GONNA GET CHARLIE OMG THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT!”

You run through the hotel and find hells Princess doing… well actually you don't really know what she does on her off time but she answers her door to you panting and rambling kinda like how she does from time to time “wait wait slow down, omg is this how I sound? Wow Im sooo sorry but start again” she says chuckling slightly. You start over “ok so I was thinking an activity everyone could do is play video games, I loved them when I was alive and I thought about it because I realized they didn't exist when a lot of our group was alive and I think thats sad and their missing out.” you quickly blurt and take a breath to then continue your ramble. “I thought it might also be good for rehabilitation because we have games where there's horror and shooters and gore so people can indulge without like actually hurting people you know! Like I could go and get beginner-level games for everyone for their interests I think it would be great!” you finally finish taking a breath. You beam at Charlie expectantly as she processes your information and you slowly see her eye sparkle too. “That… sounds… like.. A GREAT IDEA WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR LETS GO!”

A few hours go by of you finding out how video games work in hell because as you forgot it's not one-to-one with Earth but after hours of aggressive keyboard typing noises you call everyone over. You stand in front of everyone in the lobby with Charlie as she explains what you explained to her as you antsy twiddle your thumbs as she ends with any questions. To which Alastor responds “I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with your silly technology and TVs” he hisses “Well technically you're not going to be needing a TV and I think you’ll like the game so please everyone try for at least one hour and you can stop but I think you'll be hooked!” you state confidently “well then letssss do it! I'm exssssited!” Pentious states making you squeal. You walk over to him and hand him a phone, you had made sure to make the games easy for some of the less tech-savvy guests. “It's called Oppositions and Overlords, you tap the screen with your finger and you make your own battalion and fight other armies, you make whatever battle tactics you like!” you take a second to tap around and show him how to do it, it takes him a second and then you move to nifty. “Nifty it's called Community of Lambs and-” As you explain you realize she isn't picking up anything so you simplify “This button moves, this button stabs” She lights up snatching the controller from you as you sigh.

You proceed to show Charlie and Vaggie a game called pentagram valley that they play together and Husk a spooky card game called Engraving and Angel a dating sim called “Submit to me” which you open for him and he immediately whistles and shouts “Oh hello babes'' to which you giggle and suck in a breath to head over to Alastor at last, now this one was tricky. You needed something easy so that he wouldn't get frustrated. “Ok Alastor are you actually going to participate?” you ask meekly holding your laptop in your hands. He gives a small sigh and chuckles “Well my dear if you put all this effort in I suppose I will give it a shot then but I will not promise that your little screen will remain intact later.” you sigh, “ok then so it's called the underground fable. I loved the version of it while I was alive. It was actually revolutionary for games. There's multiple stories you can choose from. You're going to drag this to move and press here to do all the actions two buttons ok. There are two options which is save everyone or kill everyone and it's very sick and twisted when you kill everyone so I think you’ll like it ok and yeah I checked its very similar if not even creepier than what I played umm, yeah I cried anyway, have fun or not I one hour ok!” you ramble to him explaining. You really wanted to try your best to make him like this activity. Looking at his expression you couldn't really tell, well it was always hard because he never stops smiling. You stop trying to dissect his thoughts and slowly back away.

An hour passes and an alarm rings in your headphones. You begin to speak but then stop yourself as you look around and see that everyone is very much enjoying their games. Nifty is kicking her feet while lying on the floor yelling “Stab stab! Blood blood!” Pentious is mumbling something about glory and noble sacrifices or something saluting to himself in the corner. You're actually impressed when you see Vaggie and Charlie have made quite a pretty house and are raising a pact of hell goats on an impressively large farm. You then look at Alastor, inspecting him still not sure what he's thinking. You think you should probably tell him time is up or you think he might cut off your head for letting him be near modern tech for 10 seconds longer than he needed to. However, to your surprise and delight? When you walk up behind him you hear him chuckling slightly. “Alastor? Times up by the way you don't need to play anymore.” he turns to you slightly “Oh well then my dear I guess you're right look at the time a whole hour haha! How time flies!” he chuckles. “Although I would not like to admit you may have been right, seeing these little creatures explode into bits of dust is quite entertaining, and they yell at me too and plead as if they have any power over me it's quite hilarity” he chuckles darkly sending a chill down your spine. “Well, I never thought I'd see the day when The radio demon himself called modern technology entertaining! I think I have just won at life, well afterlife” you muse to yourself proudly “Haha yes dear I guess it seems so however, I think you should keep that one to yourself okay? A secret, my dear this information must not leave the hotel.” static fills the air as his eyes turn to dials, you know you should be intimidated but you chuckle.

“Ok, Alastor you got it it would be a scandal if you were caught cheating on the radio with video games oh the horror! GASP! The world would simply end” you chuckle sarcasm oozing from you. “Ha Ha funny my dear, now if you would be so kind I am keeping this device of yours to continue to slaughter these fish people” he muses chuckling darkly. A little sadistic you think but hey, you won they were all still playing. What did Charlie call it? A happy day in hell.

[raekensarcher]

tagged by @thiamsxbitch ,, thank u love :)

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to Ao3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have.

all fics completed aside from all about control :p

All the Love we Unraveled and the Life I Gave Away | Thiam

The exhaustion goes bone deep. Skin feeling akin to something like a livewire, feeling the clothes clinging to his skin with every step he takes. Swallows what feels like bile rising in the back of his throat, ignoring the itch of a scream clawing its way through his chest. Begging to be released, let out any tension that's been growing under his skin since Scott had called him.

Tell me That we’ll be Just Fine (Even When I Lose my Mind) | Thiam

Theo has, objectively, made a lot of stupid choices in his life. Throw a dart, you'll hit one.

This, though, this might actually take the cake on the list of Dumbest fucking things Theo Raeken has ever done. Which is no small feat, all things considered.

It takes all of three seconds after Theo tells Nolan to run, watching him stumble across the dirt and broken tree limbs before his eyes slide over to the unconscious beta on the ground and it finally registers in his brain what he just did. He just managed to effectively ruin any chance of getting out of this fucking zoo and away from these hunters at a quick pace, all because he was saving Liam's stupid ass, again.

Close my eyes, Fantasize, Three Clicks and I’m Home | Thiam

He’s not sure when it started; when this pull between he and Liam became a thing. If he had to pinpoint the exact moment, and he’s just spitballing here, it might have to be when he was pulled from hell.

‘Cause everyone’s growing, and everyone’s healthy. (I’m terrified that I might never have met me) | Thiam

When he starts crawling his way up through the earth, hands grasping for purchase on the dirt surrounding him, he thinks it’s a more fucked up version of the nightmare he’s been living in for the last few months. Years? It feels like a lifetime. Endless loops of having his sister's heart ripped out of his chest, over and over and over again. It’s hard to remember.

Of Gods and Monsters | Thiam

The question comes so far out of left field that it manages to render Theo speechless, spoonful of melting ice cream lifted halfway to his open mouth as he stares at the beta across from him with some mix between shock and confusion.

Liam takes his reaction in stride, continuing to eat his own ice cream, completely unbothered by the fact that he just managed to hit some kind of pause button inside of Theo’s brain. Theo thinks if it were any other situation the beta might have even made a joke about it, but the question wasn’t laced with any humor, just pure curiosity.

I’m here, right here, wishing I could be there for you. | Thiam

In hindsight, Liam probably should have seen how this was not going to go his way. Call him an optimist. He had maybe, dumbly, hoped that Theo would pull his head out of his ass long enough to appreciate the fact that he was valued and not, I don't know, wanted dead in the middle of the preserve? It was wishful thinking on Liam’s part.

“I’m just saying, I'm a little bit sick of your shit.”

Crimson Stained Hands | Implied Thiam , Theo centric

Theo’s never been able to put it into words, this weight that sits so heavily on his chest that sometimes he gets sharp pains that shoot through his veins. He thinks it might be some kind of punishment, though he’s not sure which sin caused this, which sin keeps him in constant torment. It’s a long list, some days it seems like it’s one that’s never going to end.

It’s like the universe has left me without a place to go | Thiam

"You're a hard man to find these days."

Theo hums from his place on the tailgate, legs swinging slowly back and forth, his eyes trained on something in the distance, not fully there.

Liam's feet stay planted where they are, eyes trained on the way Theo's hands have tightened their hold on the metal surface of the tailgate at the sound of Liam's voice. He tries not to think too hard on it, knows it probably has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that Theo has been avoiding him and life itself for the last three weeks.

All About Control | Thiam

There’s been a shadow following Theo around since he was Nine years old, a dark and looming thing that sits in his peripheral vision, a constant and threatening reminder of where he came from. Of what he can be brought back to. Some days it looks a lot like the Dread Doctors, more specifically the Surgeon. The shadow will shift and morph into a figure that resembles something from his worst memories, the ones he wishes were ripped out of him the way everything else was. Other days it morphs into something smaller, something dripping with icy ravine water, the smell of dirt and mud coming with it.

It could end in burning flames or paradise | Thiam

Theo is alive.

At least, most days he’s pretty sure he is. He feels the blood flowing under his skin, feels the stolen heart thudding against his ribs, feels the way his pulse jumps when Liam speaks in the tone he seems to solely reserve for him and him only.

tagging @stitchkiss :p

[frenchfrywrites]

I am GENUINELY curious to know more about emeto, like this is 100% positive and I'm excited to hear abt it and learn abt it. Atm I'm completely neutral abt emeto stuff (I don't actively look for it but I also don't get grossed out by the topic or purposefully avoid it either) and that was my position on piss kink stuff as well before actually getting to read and learn abt it from people who do enjoy the experience. I very quickly came to like piss stuff so I would love to know more abt emeto as well, if thats smth you would want to talk about?

Like I am really really interested to hear an explanation or breakdown of why its so appealing and sexy, because thats what got me on board with piss kink stuff and I am genuinely curious to know more kinks and see what else I might feel like exploring. If that makes sense?

Ooh I love asks like these. It's very fun to ramble about kinks I enjoy so thank u for letting me indulge in your curiosity.

I'd love to give you the reason as to why I'm so taken with emeto....... the only problem is I myself don't know lmao!!! It's definitely not a kink that I've always been into like piss lol.. I got into it after reading a fic where a bottom vomited from sucking cock and I was smitten from then. I guess there's a couple of things I really enjoy about the kink. I typically write about subs vomiting, and I think I like that so much because the act of puking is like... not having control over your body? It makes them vulnerable and weak in a very unique way. In that sense, I like that it can easily be paired with sickfics, pregnancy fics, and whump fics. It's an easy way to make a character miserable- and to then be able to take care of them, coddle them, and pleasure them. I like how you'd be able to feel someone's stomach churning and lurching if you touched their stomach while they puked (so maybe it's got something to do with my feederism kink?). I like the way it'd make someone feel a bit of shame (ofc no need to overdo it, but a nice blush or weak "sorry" is sooo good). I like that it takes such a hard toll on your body, so there's usually sweat and stomach cramps and nausea (again, pairs really well w whump stuff). I also like that it's gross as fuck.

That's really just me rambling about what came to mind. I hope I was able to help a bit!! Perhaps ppl will agree w me or have their own reasons (if so, feel free to add). I really do appreciate that you are looking at people who enjoy this kink and instead of coming at it with disgust, you're curious and open. That's very lovely and refreshing <3

[pinkcannibal]

soo not to get nsfw on the main… But with that being said… i‘ve just reread the latest chapter of it’s quicker and easier for the fourth time (somebody sedate me) and i just have some food for thought that is stuck to my mind‘s interior. SEE WHAT YOUVE DONE!! this fic is permanently tattooed onto my brain!!

like ok so i just think with all of marilyn’s prowess with potions and elixirs, she would surely have the knowledge to come up with some kind of,,, concoction that would allow her to gain a certain appendage (if u know what i’m talking about ;)). The next step then of course is fulfilling her and reader‘s fantasies of feeling her "come inside you and paint your walls with everything she is" with said appendage of marilyn’s. and woah what a line. whattt a line. a line that i personally feel should be interpreted as a prophecy of sorts that needs to be fulfilled immediately mhm mhm !

ok sorry but my point is it’s established marilyn has a breeding kink and yep, that definitely tracks. and reader has a 'consuming any part of marilyn she can like a pathetic eager puppy' kink, be it her blood, spit (👀 pls) or cum. i just think yknow if marilyn has the tools she is well within her right to use them to get herself her own cock and fuck her controversially younger girlfriend with it!!😌 when life gives you lemons, you use them to brew a cock-growing elixir for you and your gf to have fun with… i think that’s how the saying goes <3

anyways sorry for the long ask oops i didn’t mean for it to be this long. last sidepart and this is purely amused delusion but i find it so funny to imagine marilyn building this whole thing up and it happens and she and reader are very turned on and excited… only for marilyn to come in like 30 seconds. bc this is a whole new sensation for her obviously!!!! and even when she’s usually fucking reader without her cock, marilyn’s mostly the one giving and she’s not used to much direct stimulation without having reader come first!!! so then marilyn’s feeling mortified and reader is simultaneously understanding, horny, flattered and proud that she could make her lose control like that.

soo yeah that’s my food for thought on that ONE line from your fic that wouldn’t leave my head. a feast for thought would be more accurate. to make it explicit, i’d love to see something like this happen in the fic with marilyn and reader, or even a one-shot (or both!). that being said i get that it’s not for everyone so if ur not down then ofc don’t feel obliged to write anything ur not comfortable with <3 i was just kinda obsessing over the idea since reading chapter 18 and wanted to articulate my feral thoughts somewhere :p

rant ended for now, congratulations on exceeding 100K words!! that’s a super impressive feat for any author, never mind the fact that you didn’t think the fic would surpass 20K!! we’re super proud of you and blessed to have you as the author of this fic <33 take care and hope to read more soon!!!

okay the way this ask has NOT left my brain since reading it jesus christ!!!! HI??? ur so valid for this actually (also the fact that youve read the chap four times already is so sweet ty!!!! :') dont be sorry for being nsfw on main this sideblog is literally. MADE for that and for people to ask me things like this skdksd

okay. so i HAVE talked abt this on discord before w my beloved '<3' from ao3 and its so funny bc like. when we talk abt marilyn coming its always said with the knowledge that like 'oh of course she can come inside of reader using the strap/her cock. this is both physically possible and normal :)' skdksd so like the fact that youve sent this message is personal TO ME bc even tho i havent made it a thing in my fic yet i DO want to add a scene with either a cum filled strap on or, like you said, bc marilyn's so talented with elixir's/potions im SURE there is a concoction she can create that either a) allows her to feel her cum filled strap as if it was her own appendage AND acts like it or b) have her own cock. im more inclined with option A as it feels more realistic in my fic and would flow better i think within the confides of how ive written this story, and the fact that ive set up already that marilyn is really talented in potion making/plants and organic material. it would have to be slight magic using i guess?? (also realistic is a dumb word to use ik ksdkd like this is the world where vampires werewolves and gorgons exist. yet i just feel like strap would work better instead of her acquiring an actual cock)

btw ur 'when life gives you lemons,' comment made me lose it thank u so much for that. but yes! trust me when i say marilyn is constantlyyyy thinking abt possible ways she can make this a reality, it literally is a cause of frustration for marilyn that she cant give her girl what she wants and fill her up w her cum </3 its why she says it as a form of praise/degradation during 18 and 19 eg: "i wish i could cum in you" and "make you mine" bc like these freaks are so in love that the idea of breeding reader is succchhh a fulfilling fantasy, and visa versa. for reader its like 'i literally want all of you. ALL of you' like marilyn knows and LOVES how much reader is eager to please to take anything of marilyn's like you said, esp blood cum and spit (this idea is romantic to me. no further questions sdkskd) so yes tldr this IS an idea i really, really want to explore bc i can do so much with the idea of consuming your milf lover so much that you beg for their cum inside you/down your throat at all times <333

oh ur so real for marilyn not lasting comment. thats so 😵‍💫definitely the first time they try it marilyn's just so overwhelmed by feeling how warm and wet reader is (its a completely different sensation than feeling w her fingers/tongue) and how much reader is begging for it she just. comes immediately. does not know how to act and keeps filling reader up as much as she can (this does in fact send reader into suchhh a dumbed down headspace feeling it; like u have NO idea how much this is affecting her skdksd) but to me after the first time marilyn is just so focused on making reader the one who comes first every time, bc marilyn gets off on reader getting off and loves being the one to always give <33

i think im more inclined to add it into the fic! but thats not to say im ruling it out of requests/one shots. ur so okay omg ksdk the fact that u were obsessing over this makes me feel validated that me and '<3' arent the only ones who talk abt this concept like. all the time skdkd and wait AHHHHH GOD thank you so much!!!!🥰 thats genuinely so sweet and so uplifting for you to say, i hope you take care too and have an amazing day anon!! :')

[thefactsofthematter]

i mean. what else am i gonna say.

i’d love a perspective flip for what i know, bc there Are a lot of perspectives in that fic so why not ping-pong it some more! also i miss it and it is my personal livelihood.

also if u wanna do the future time stamp for solace in the strangest of things…. that’d be cool as well >:) @jack-kellys

broooooo omg. @jack-kellys

so i had a look back through what i know and i couldn’t land on anything that sparked any thoughts for a perspective flip bc the povs already swap so much….. but seeking solace in the strangest of things however…..

that fic is currently sitting at one chapter due to reasons of “author forgot it existed for a while and hasn’t had time lately to get her head wrapped around it” BUT i do have many ideas on deck about what happens LATER in the story!!

so please enjoy a prototype of a future scene that will probably exist eventually, once ive written some more context for it!!

-

It’s only once Mr. Pulitzer has stopped talking that Jack catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall.

His reflection is wrong, he realizes.

He’s looking at himself, sure, but that’s not him. It’s like there’s a delay— the Jack in the mirror turns his head just slightly, and he has no choice but to copy it, just a split second later, without even consciously trying to do it.

He watches his reflection blink. That’s not supposed to happen.

“What’s the matter, Kelly?” Pulitzer leans his hands on his desk, and offers a smile when Jack looks at him again. “You look… confused.”

Jack feels himself frowning.

“Sorry. I’m a little dizzy.”

That’s what he tries to say. However, that’s not what happens. Instead, what comes out of his mouth, in his own voice, is:

“Nothing’s wrong, sir. I feel fine.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. His hands fly to his throat, in a panic, which makes Pulitzer chuckle.

That’s when he spots it: the flicker of light between Pulitzer’s fingers, a bright zap of energy. It looks almost the same as Davey’s magic— the soft purple light that glows from his hands while he’s casting spells— but this time, it’s a vicious, sickening green.

“Wonderful.” Pulitzer grins. “I’ll offer you my deal one more time, and I trust you’ll have reconsidered your answer. Once again: you’ll do me a favour or two, and then— once you’ve earned it— I’ll do one for you. Sound fair?”

Jack smiles, without meaning to. He lets go of his throat and his hands fall to his sides, as Pulitzer moves his fingers and the light grows brighter.

“Of course, sir,” he says. “I’d be happy to help.”

He tries to fight it, tries to turn and run away— nothing works. It’s like someone else has sat down in his brain and taken over the controls. All he can do now is watch.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Pulitzer says. It sounds far away, like he’s at the other end of a hallway. “We’re going to have fun together, Jack.”

Pulitzer raises his hand. More green light flies forth from his fingertips, and for a moment, Jack’s eyes roll back in his head as pain floods through his body.

He can’t scream. He can’t even flinch.

He stands rooted to the spot, helpless, while magic streams into his head. It’s like he can feel it creeping its way around and settling in, making itself at home in the crevices and corners of his mind. It takes a hold of him in a way that leaves him panicked for a moment… but suddenly makes him feel calm and settled, as it successfully finds its purchase. He’s not sure he’s allowed feel scared anymore.

He’s not sure he’s allowed to feel anything.

“Off you go,” Pulitzer says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. The green light absorbs back into his fingers. “You know what to do. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Kelly.”

Jack smiles, but in a way that feels unfamiliar. It’s not his smile.

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

With that, he turns and leaves the office. His subconscious leads the way: somehow, he’s entirely sure where he needs to go, even though he can’t consciously piece together where that might be. He’s on a mission now, he realizes, and nothing is going to stop him.

[m0llygunn]

/735662509094289408

oh but it does ruin the friendship. ~the angst commences~ imagine him toying around with someone, only because his own life is so difficult to control and he’s sick of it. he’s sick of his life being so unpredictable and troubled, so he resorts to using someone else’s to play around and have fun with. he’s the puppet master and the poor person just takes it because they actually love eddie💔💔💔he wants to kiss them one night (because he feels particularly unlovable that day so what better way to release the pain by inviting his ‘friend’ over) and tells them exactly that, “a little kiss wouldn’t hurt our friendship”

so they kiss. and it all goes to shit. they go off on eddie, “i can’t do this anymore! you’re playing with my feelings and it hurts me so much…do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?! i can’t stick around you anymore, i’m out of here,”

and then eddie is left to think about what he’s done.

anyway sorry for the random story, i was just thinking about it cuz i sure love me some angst <///3 and i think it’s interesting to look into a side of eddie that wouldn’t be particularly likable. lmk what u think tho. do u think eddie would come to develop actual real feelings for this person? would he even apologize at all and would it even work out?

ok i’m done now hope u have a good day :) ✨

nono don't apologize i love the story, thank you!! also i love the puppet master analogy, obviously because of master of puppets, but also because I used to be a puppeteer at a local theatre company!! you're speaking my language lol

i'm just gonna put a read more here so that this isn't a long post, and clickable link here to the referenced post!

I also really like the whole 'unlikable' kind of characters thing, and especially with Eddie's background, I always think that him serving those sorts of motifs produces very fascinating storylines. Canonically he has such strong redeeming qualities, that I think giving him some bad qualities never seems all that terrible, plus its just fun and interesting to read! In terms of how it would end, in my opinion, I think it definitely depends! Sorry thats kind of a bad answer but it could go so many ways? Like in some scenarios it could be the catalyst to them getting together, but it also could be the catalyst of things going really wrong if Eddie isn't willing to change. I also think that if Eddie were to pick on someone it would be because he already likes them to start with, so he would have to go through a lot of internal processes to come into his own, and eventually be able to move forward for sure!

Side note— I've actually been working on a sort of 'morally grey' characterization so I'm interested which ending is your preference? Like angst angst or happy ending? (my thing's already written, I just haven't had it in me to edit it, but spoiler its kind of like those movies where nothing happens but everything changes, but also nothing changes? very unproductive storyline but I think that in itself is valuable because life follows that storyline quite frequently).

I read a fic before kind of like your story so i just went for a deep dive looking for it lol I think you might like it! You can click here for it :) This one is from Eddie's pov so theres a lot of his internal processes, and I think it's just a good read.

Another fic that comes to mind is a series. It's a bully!eddie three part-er (i think) with a pick your own ending (which i think is soso cool and you don't see very often), so maybe you'd want to check that out too! Link is here for that one! I also like how this one gives a preface to why Eddie becomes a 'bully' and I just really like the story in general!

If either links don't work, let me know! I'll probably reblog them after this too :)

sorry this was so long omg, but thank you again for sending me your story, I truly appreciate it and love it sm!! (also i saw your other ask and I want to write something for it but it might take me a while with exams and everything come up, sorry!)

[ineffablyendless]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you'd like to know better!

Tagged by @munsonsbabygirlie , thank u Chromie! Last year, technically, that i keep forgetting to do but this feels like a nice way to start the New Year!

Book Im currently reading:

American Gods by Neil Gaiman! I'm trying to get a bit more into reading this year, but its been a hot minute and im crawling by slower than I expected. That being said I've got a whole list waiting for me, and I'm incredibly enjoying AG so far <3

What I usually wear:

Blue, if I'm being honest. Its not my actual favourite colour, but it's my comfort one. I can't reliably say jeans even: ive really grown into a good pair of slacks. Tho i suppose if youre trying to imagine me, think blue jeans, a battered second hand pair of yellowing high tops, a white tshirt and an old plaid shirt, and ive been told i wear my hijab a very recognizable way 😭 also blue

How tall I am:

157 cm last i checked, 5 feet exactly in american measurements i think...?

My star sign. Do I know any celebrities or historical event that shares it:

Im a libra! Im sure plenty of people got born and big events happened in the first half of October, but nothing comes to mind immediately. I suppose i dont care enough to remember, lol

Do I go by a name or nickname:

Nickname. I go by Choice in all cyberspaces. It's a name that endeared itself to me many years ago, its nothing close to my actual name, and I enjoy the broad line of separation between my lives on and offline. Irl tho, i usually dont go by a nickname, at least nothing used by anyone outside family, and thats even MORE closely guarded. So.

Did I grow up to be what I wanted to be as a child:

I was an angry, suicidal, incredibly hurt child, and I had no true ambition besides finding joy and holding on to it with both hands. I wanted to be content and left alone, most of all. I wanted to be happy.

I'm a lot happier now. It's an uphill battle. Baby me would be glad to see where I am now tho i think. I hope

Something I'm good at vs Something I'm bad at:

I am. Very good at speaking. I take pride in this, many have told me I have the innate talent with words and the know how to lead a team and control a room. I know how to get myself listened. On paper, I know what I want said. Many things. Words are a power I wield well.

Vs

I am, sincerely, not very good at empathy, nor sympathy. I struggle to look outside my periphery, to crawl outside my own head and pop my own bubble. I have come across as-not cold, but callous, cruel, a little uncaring. I feel less remorse for this than I should, I think. I try, but thats not enough sometimes. I sincerely do not care of other opinions and perspectives as default. I like to think im better at it now. I'm aware of it. But its still a problem

If I draw or write, what's my favourite of anything I created this year?

Im taking that to mean 2022. I guess this line from my fic A Cosmic Kiss?

Millenia ago, a comet had come to strike down the surface of the earth like a Holy hand clearing a table, and decimated all that had ever existed, and it had been the end of things. It had been the beginning. It had moved with the leisure of treacle towards its purpose in the indifferent void, but close, close, pulled into the orbit of the earth with speed to singe the atoms of air. Creation, by the guide of Destruction. Life, then Death, then Life again. Such was the way of things. Fires that last are the ones that waited. Paradoxes; sudden, and not. 

Such was their way.

It was the first thing that struck me to write the one shot, the one partially inspired by Puppet History, and would be the ongoing theme of the fic. Its quite good, i have to admit. Im glad the fic went over well.

Dogs or cats:

Cats. Nothing against a sweet puppy, but I prefer the chill leisure of your everyday feline thank you very much.

Something I would like to make content for:

All my fandoms. All of it. I write less than I honestly should; Sandman and Watcher and Good Omens and OFMD

Something I was excited about that turned out to dissappoint me:

*blinks* Oh God, i cant think of anything. Theres that book carnival, but it was a surprise, and it exceeded my poor memory and expectations, even if I didnt find what i was looking for. Hmm. If anything dissapointed me, it doesnt come to mind.

Hidden talent:

I have no idea ❤

Something I wish to have at this very moment:

A bite of chocolate. Maybe a cookie. But I'm broke enough to keep an eye out for the bank account and i cant afford such luxuries. Im even out of cocoa. Sigh.

Tagging @freddykicksasses @ennas-aesthetic @wannabecoyote @waistcoat35 @youre-platinum-pussycat

[mejomonster]

I'm reading my old fic What Will They Find When I am Ripped apart:

1. I think I get now the ppl who say "u have a really noticeable authors voice" like I still don't Know what my voice is. But I can HEAR Jim's voice in the narration heavily in this. And its a bit of a mix with the rambling metas I'm sure you've seen out of me lmao. So that must be "it" somewhat. It's funny, I remembered the "rambling" that starts this fic quite negatively and wondered how people waded through it, but on reread now I realize it actually kicks into the start of the action within a few paragraphs. Its just here, like in most of my fic, I go into the character emotions/inner worlds every so often with the actions. That's where those delved in bits are after all. Which is probably also part of that "style" people pick up on

2. Lmao I put NERAIDIANS in the first chapter!! I can't believe it! I was sly and put my ocs in this fanfic as the aliens cause I needed aliens in the plot for some stuff. So I put in some of my faerie ocs from The Blank Files (which surprisingly were quite warmly received ppl wanted to know what was going on with their plots), and the fae were just absolutely being nuisances. I didn't realize I brought them up in chapter 1?!!! Chapter 1 was truly only intended to be porn but here I was putting in fucktons of plot because... I just cannot help myself. Is it even written by me if it's not bleeding plot and character study through every seam??

He looked up at Spock with eyes half lidded and let himself sound as emotional as the desires that now began drifting in his mind. “Stay, Spock.” He tugged lightly, no way he was going to affect his first officer’s stronger body unless Spock was letting him.

And how delicious it was, nerve endings lighting up with some fantastic surge of goodness, touching Spock skin to skin as Jim tugged him down until he was sitting stiffly next to him on top of the blanket, feigning reluctance -- Spock was sitting less than a foot away right now because he was purposely indulging Jim.

Mercifully and to his own controlled dismay, Jim lets his hand slide away from Spock and shifts to a more comfortable place by the pillows, half laying and half leaning on one arm as he regards his friend. “You’re tired too,” Jim states simply, like he’s discussing the facts regarding an upcoming mission. “You’ve been working double shifts making sure the Neraidan diplomats have been what they actually say they are.” He traces circles into the pillow beside him, with the fingers of his free hand, looking there instead of at Spock. Pretending there’s not an extra meticulous focus on his friend tonight, letting Spock relax and act like he’s not the full focus of Jim in this as any private instant between them.

Jim lets his words drift off, hoping Spock’s been reveling enough in mock non-attention from Jim to have lowered the tenseness he adopts when Jim tries some of his more obvious moves. He lets his eyes flicker back to Spock, who is indeed more loose and pliant now, casually considering the door like he’s going to let Jim mumble for a while and leave after his captain has fallen asleep.

Ha. Jim is nowhere near that incapacitated, as previously established. Poor, naive, raised a Vulcanly way darling. “Yeah, yeah, I know, rest,” Jim rambles, sure without a look or words from Spock that the guy was going to beat that dead argument in place of smothering Jim into the bed physically. And. Ah. One day… hopefully soon. Jim wouldn’t mind half as much if Spock made a habit of forcing him into bed that way instead. “You rest too, buddy. Here. My bed’s as good as yours.”

Spock’s looking his way again, mouth poised to bleat out some adorable monotone retort but Jim’s got an over exaggerated arm swinging into Spock’s shoulder as their eyes lock, and then he’s clumsily pulling Spock into bed next to him and pushing in messy gentle motions until Spock’s laying down next to him. Looking just shy of exasperated, a touch of fondness in the way his eyes light up as they melt into Jim’s, and the slightest tenseness of his brows like he’s beginning to suspect that Jim is just a smidge too coordinated to actually be inebriated.

But despite any suspicions Spock may have, he lets Jim push him down, even though the strength behind it is lacking considerably compared to Jim’s usual abilities. Positively soft, the way Jim is touching him now. Jim moves to much more forcefully yank the blanket out from under them and put it above them instead, and as he sees Spock push himself back up to sit -- but not bolt -- Jim decides to interpret it as a positive sign that Spock just might, potentially, be amenable to the next risky moves he wants to take.

Spock’s always been -- enigma isn’t the right word. Revelation isn’t either. Spock has always been… Spock. And Jim could probably live out the rest of his life, Spock at his side, and never stop being fascinated and enthralled and excited about him.