#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

[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.

[ducksido]

Hai! Could u possibly make a Idia x reader fic where reader gets accidentally turned into a cat during a potion fuck up (ahem ahem ace) and ran to Idia since they’re like dating and then Idia is like wow! The kitty is very cute and nice and like fluffy

Ysyyayasyyayayaya

Cat-tastrophe in Ignihyde

(OOH BOY! *read in mickey mouse voice* This was a long one! But i love it 😺💕)

You were having an okay day. That is, until Ace happened. During a demonstration Crewel was doing to the class on how to make an awakening potion, Ace was messing around while Deuce and you tried stopping him, he added random things he found, then Deuce grabs his arm to stop him but Ace jerks and accidently knocks the cauldron. Right onto you. (ouch)

“Oops.”

"Oops? ACE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN—" Your words cut off as a dizzy spell overtook you, your limbs suddenly feeling way too small. The world around you spun and grew impossibly large, the potions classroom stretching into a towering labyrinth of desks and cauldrons.

When the dizziness faded, you tried to speak again, but instead of words, a small, indignant mew left your mouth.

Oh. Oh no.

Ace blinked at you, then burst into laughter. "Oh, man, this is so not my fault!"

You swiped a paw at his ankle, hissing. Of course this was his fault. You should’ve known better than to let him mess with potions unsupervised.

“Okay, okay! We just—uh—need to fix this! Before Crewel finds out and skins me alive!”

But you weren’t sticking around for that. Nope. Absolutely not. You were not going to be some test subject while Ace scrambled to fix his mistake. So, you did the first thing that came to mind: you bolted.

You darted between legs, leapt over bags, and made it out of the classroom before Ace could even think about catching you. Your paws pattered against the stone halls of Night Raven College as you sped towards the one place you knew you’d be safe—Idia’s room.

Idia was having a normal day—well, as normal as it could get for a shut-in gaming enthusiast with crippling social anxiety. He was curled up in his chair, controller in hand, deep into an online raid when he heard it.

A small, insistent scratching at his door.

He frowned, pushing his headset down. "Huh?" He wasn't expecting anyone. Ortho always just floated in. No one else ever came to his room.

Another scratch.

Slowly, he rolled his chair over and cracked the door open, only for something small and fluffy to dart inside, weaving between his legs.

"What the—?" He turned just in time to see a cat—no, the cutest cat he had ever seen—flop onto his rug like it owned the place. Its fur was soft-looking, its ears twitching slightly as it blinked up at him with the biggest, most familiar eyes.

“Wait, wh—?” Idia felt his brain short-circuit. Where did this adorable little guy come from? His heart pounded as the cat rolled over and stretched, letting out a small, contented mrrp.

He was weak. He was so weak.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, slowly sinking to the floor. “You’re so cute.”

The cat gave him a smug look.

Idia hesitated for a second before tentatively reaching out. When the cat didn’t bolt, he gently scratched behind its ears. The purr that rumbled from its chest was instant.

"This is fine," he mumbled, cheeks dusting pink. "This is totally fine. New best friend acquired. I didn't even have to leave my room. Achievement unlocked."

The cat—you—sighed, clearly exasperated, and then, in a moment of absentmindedness, batted at his controller with a very familiar level of irritation.

Idia froze.

The way you huffed. The way you swatted his stuff when you were annoyed. The look in your eyes.

His brain ran through the possibilities. There was no way this was a coincidence.

“…Y/N?” His voice was quiet, but the way your ears perked told him everything.

You gave him an exasperated look, as if saying, About time, idiot.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, staring at you in horror. "Y/N, what the hell happened to you?!"

You flicked your tail and gave a pointed glare, trying to communicate the words: Ace. Potion. Fix it.

Idia groaned, running a hand down his face. "Of course it was Ace. I should've known."

Still, he couldn't deny—while this was an absolute disaster—you were an incredibly cute cat.

He coughed, ears turning red. "W-Well, uh... at least you’re cute?"

You smacked his knee with your paw.

"Ow! Okay, okay, I'll help fix this!" He quickly grabbed his tablet, typing away. "I'll find a cure, I swear. Just—just don't tell anyone I was calling you cute, okay?!"

You gave him a slow blink—the cat equivalent of a smug grin. Oh, he was never living this down.

Idia was still reeling from the realization that his adorable new feline companion was actually you, his partner, when you decided to make yourself even more comfortable.

You stretched lazily, then strutted across his room, tail flicking as you inspected your surroundings. Idia watched, wide-eyed, as you jumped onto his bed with an effortless grace that made him momentarily forget that this was you and not just a random cat.

"Y/N," he muttered, half-exasperated, half-in-awe, "you’re really leaning into this whole ‘cat’ thing, huh?"

You ignored him, settling down in the middle of his pillow.

Idia gawked. "My pillow?! Bro, I—? That’s where I sleep! Wait, do cats even have hygiene—never mind, I don’t wanna know."

You rolled onto your back, stretching luxuriously before flicking your tail in a way that told him you were absolutely staying right there.

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is some kind of cosmic punishment. I must've triggered a bad RNG roll.”

A moment later, he peeked through his fingers and saw you happily kneading his blanket. His heart nearly exploded on the spot.

"You're so cute, I—" He clutched his chest like he was taking critical damage. "I might actually die."

You purred, clearly pleased with yourself.

About ten minutes later, after typing frantically on his tablet to find a solution (Why are there no ‘how to turn your s/o back from a cat’ guides? People turn into cats way too often at this school), Idia hesitated. His golden eyes darted to his desk. More specifically, to a small, unopened pouch sitting next to a pile of gaming snacks.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

"...I wonder," he murmured to himself.

He picked up the bag, inspecting it. It was a souvenir Ortho had given him after a visit to a pet shop—an impulse purchase "just in case" Idia ever decided to befriend an animal.

Catnip.

His fingers twitched. Would it work on you? Would it just make you relaxed, or would you go full-on feral? There was only one way to find out.

He opened the pouch.

The second the scent hit your nose, you froze. Your ears twitched. Your tail went stiff for a moment, then swayed.

Idia watched in rapt fascination as you slowly turned your head toward him, eyes locked onto the pouch like it contained the secrets of the universe.

"Oh. Oh my god." He grinned, shaking the bag slightly. “Do you want it, Y/N~?”

You stood up so fast that it was honestly alarming.

Idia let out a choked laugh. “No way. No way this actually—”

You pounced.

"GAH!" Idia barely had time to yelp as you launched yourself at his hand, batting at the pouch with wild enthusiasm. He scrambled back, cackling. “W-Wait, hold on, I thought you’d just sniff it! I didn’t think you’d go feral!”

But you were too far gone. You rolled on the floor, rubbing against the tiny bit of catnip that had fallen out, wriggling and pawing at it like an absolute menace.

Idia wiped a fake tear from his eye, biting back laughter. “This… this is the greatest day of my life.”

About fifteen minutes later, your wild catnip-fueled rampage slowed to a crawl. Your tail flicked weakly, your body sprawled lazily across Idia’s lap. The effect had definitely worn off, and now you just felt so tired.

Idia, still grinning, scratched behind your ears absentmindedly. “So… how’s it feel to get wrecked by a tiny green plant?”

You weakly swiped at his arm.

“Pfft, yeah, yeah, I deserve that.” He hummed, looking down at you, still curled up in his lap. "Y'know, this might actually be a little too dangerous. If you stay a cat too long, I might get too used to this. Having a little Y/N cat sleeping in my room all the time? Kinda OP."

You gave him a tired glare.

Idia smirked, brushing a finger under your chin. "No take-backs. You did this to yourself."

You grumbled, but the warmth of his lap, the gentle scratching, and the lingering effects of the catnip had you too exhausted to fight back. You closed your eyes, purring lightly.

Idia's face burned red. “Oh my god. I’m so keeping a picture of this.”

He quickly snapped a photo before setting his tablet aside and leaning back in his chair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix this,” he murmured, resting his hand on your back. “But, uh… maybe stay like this for a little longer? Just for a bit?”

You flicked your tail in response.

You'd let him have this one—for now.

Idia was in absolute heaven.

You, his s/o, his beloved, his partner-in-crime (and now, thanks to Ace, his temporary pet), were curled up in his lap, fast asleep. Your tiny, fluffy form rose and fell with each slow breath, and the softest little purrs rumbled against his legs.

He was paralyzed. Not out of fear, but because if he moved even a millimeter, you might wake up—and there was no way he was risking that.

His hands hovered above you, twitching, unsure if he should keep petting you or just admire the sheer cuteness of you passed out in his lap.

"This is the best day of my life," he whispered to himself.

And then, the door slammed open.

“Idia Shroud.”

The sharp, commanding voice of Professor Crewel cut through the room like a dagger. Idia yelped, nearly jumping out of his chair. You stirred slightly in his lap but remained asleep, only flicking an ear at the noise.

Crewel strode inside, exuding his usual presence of strict authority, a vial of glowing liquid in hand. His sharp eyes locked onto Idia, then to the cat curled up on his legs. He raised an eyebrow.

“So it’s true,” Crewel said, crossing his arms. “You were harboring them.”

“Wha—?!” Idia flailed, trying to cover your tiny form with his hands protectively. “I wasn’t harboring them, I was—! I mean, they came to me—! Look, can we just not right now? They’re sleeping.”

Crewel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it’s time to fix this nonsense. I have the cure.” He lifted the vial. “Give them this, and they’ll return to normal immediately.”

Idia hesitated, glancing down at you. You were still out cold, your little paws twitching in your sleep, your head resting against his stomach like you were the most comfortable thing in the world.

His fingers clenched. His inner gremlin was fighting a war with his rational side.

On one hand, this was your body. You’d probably be mad if he delayed the cure.

On the other hand…

You were so tiny. So fluffy. So perfectly curled up in his lap, and he would never get this chance again.

He swallowed hard before looking up at Crewel, eyes pleading.

“…Can I just have five more minutes?”

Crewel blinked.

“…No.”

“Please?” Idia practically begged, gripping his hoodie like a desperate NPC pleading for an extra side quest reward. “Just five more minutes. Please, Professor, I—I have social anxiety! This is the first time someone has ever willingly sat in my lap, and it might never happen again! Let me just have this!!”

Crewel stared at him, completely unimpressed. “You do realize they’re not a real cat, right?”

“Obviously, but look at them!” Idia gestured wildly at your tiny form. “They trust me. They fell asleep on me. I—I think this is what peace feels like, Professor. Let me have this moment before I return to my life of social avoidance and gaming-induced back pain.”

Crewel sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “…Three minutes.”

Idia gasped. “R-Really?!”

“Three.” Crewel’s glare sharpened. “No more.”

Idia immediately shut his mouth, nodding rapidly. “Yessir. Three minutes. Got it.”

Crewel watched with mild exasperation as Idia gingerly leaned back in his chair, gently stroking your fur, his expression one of pure, unfiltered bliss. He muttered something about this being the ultimate SSR-tier event, and Crewel decided to ignore it.

Exactly three minutes later, Crewel handed over the vial, and Idia—very, very reluctantly—administered the cure.

A few seconds passed, and then—POOF.

The next thing you knew, you were human again, sprawled across Idia’s lap in a very compromising position, your face just inches from his.

You blinked. “...Huh?”

Idia’s entire face turned beet red.

Crewel cleared his throat. “Get a room.”

“TH-THIS IS MY ROOM—!!” Idia sputtered.

You groaned, sitting up. “Ugh… my head…” You looked down at yourself, finally registering that you were back. “Oh, thank the Great Seven—I'm human again!”

Idia, still bright red, stared at you, looking oddly conflicted.

“…You good?” you asked.

He pouted. “I… I kinda miss the cat version of you.”

You blinked at him. Then smirked. “Oh? You liked me being a cat, huh?”

“You were cute, okay?!” Idia blurted, pulling his hood over his face. “Like, dangerously cute. I—I almost asked Ortho if I could keep you forever!”

You burst into laughter. “Wow, I leave for five minutes, and you’re already trying to domesticate me.”

Crewel sighed, already heading for the door. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”

As he left, you turned back to Idia with a teasing grin. “Y’know, if you really miss it, maybe next time I’ll just act like a cat for a day.”

Idia choked. “D-Don’t joke about that!!”

You flicked his nose. “No promises, gamer boy.”

And with that, Idia buried his face in his hands, fully prepared to die from sheer embarrassment.

Idia was not okay.

His brain was still buffering from the absolute whiplash of events—one moment, he was cradling the cutest cat he had ever seen, and the next, you were back in human form, sitting on his lap, teasing him about his undeniable weakness for you in cat form.

And now?

Now you were staring at him with that mischievous glint in your eyes—the one that told him you were about to destroy him.

His face was already burning from embarrassment, but when you suddenly leaned in, his entire body went into panic mode.

“W-W-Wait—!”

Too late.

Your lips pressed softly against his flaming cheek, a quick but deliberate little kiss right on the pinkest part of his face.

Critical hit. Super effective. Idia is now completely incapacitated.

His entire system shut down. His eyes widened, his body went completely rigid, and for a moment, it looked like he forgot how to breathe. Then—

POOF.

His fire head completely went pink as he fully malfunctioned.

You giggled. “Wow. I didn’t know a person could actually be a heat generator.”

Idia let out a high-pitched, unintelligible noise, his hands slamming over his face as he curled inward like a dying spider. “W-Why—why would you—what kind of ultra-rare death event is this?!”

You grinned. “What? You’re telling me you can handle cat-me sleeping on you, but you can’t handle one little kiss?”

“That was different!” Idia wailed, rocking slightly as he tried to process what just happened. “C-Cat-you didn’t—! You weren’t—! GAHHH, my stats weren’t ready!!”

You laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “Too bad. No do-overs.”

Idia groaned dramatically, completely melting under the weight of his own embarrassment. “I-I need to log out of real life. I need a restart. Ortho, bring me my emergency blanket—I need to respawn!!”

You just smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

Idia let out a pathetic little whimper, completely powerless against your affection.

Honestly? He didn’t even mind.

[octoberautumnbox]

Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning

Hell Week

tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think

Word count: 5.5k holy shit

a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD

~~~

A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control. 

“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”

You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”

She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”

“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head. 

A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it. 

However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?

“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.

It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.” 

“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”

“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”

Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished. 

~~~

In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red. 

Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach. 

“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough. 

“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease. 

“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”

“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”

You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”

“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.

“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over. 

It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”

She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.” 

~~~

“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it. 

“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”

Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”

Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”

“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”

“Cute. You know she likes you too?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”

“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.

She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”

“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.

Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–

“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.”

Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”

Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.

“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders. 

“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”

You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”

“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”

“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.

~~~

“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”

“Yeah, about the bet.”

“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again. 

“You want…?”

It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.

“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”

“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”

“... A cum tribute.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to…?”

“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”

“You want a photo of–”

“Video.”

“You–video?”

“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”

There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you. 

“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”

“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time. 

~~~

“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”

You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision. 

“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement. 

“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room. 

Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.

“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit. 

“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her? 

“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks. 

“Do you… Do you have a tie?”

Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you. 

“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one. 

She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.

You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?” 

“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.

Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.

You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets. 

Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest. 

She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin. 

She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.

It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven. 

“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Do you have condoms?”

“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen. 

You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of. 

“Go easy, okay? I told you…” 

“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same. 

Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”

So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of. 

“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck���” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.

“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…

You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!” as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent. 

Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse. 

“You good? Still alive?”

All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous. 

“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.

“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.

“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”

“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”

And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner. 

Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.

“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip. 

Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this. 

A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it. 

Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants. 

Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again. 

Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready. 

Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now. 

It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you. 

It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love. 

Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you. 

Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward. 

“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her. 

Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up. 

An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn. 

~~~

Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.

“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime. 

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note. 

“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold. 

“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”

Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”

“... Did you want me to?”

“Yeah…?”

Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.

Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”

She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops. 

“Shit, sorry–” 

“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”

Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right–wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words: 

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Can you go again that soon?”

“If it's you, of course.”

“Don't guys need to recharge?”

“... I'll handle it.”

~~~

[oh-no-its-bird]

The following program is brought to u from the depths of the nin-burger server w the help of @ohai-there, who's additions are marked by indented text

Mm. Into the Kakashiverse fic. Many Kakashi's. All the Kakashi's.

Its told from Obito's POV actually and it's just 10k of him losing his goddamn mind over all the Kakashi's

@ohai-there :

huff huff huff

something goes wrong with his kamui and all manner of kakashis come falling out of his eye

Oh my god

Some of the Kakashi's are legit fighting over him and some just don't care

The little yokai kid Kakashi ends up being his guide into Kashiland or smthn idk

Trying to help him get back home

it happens every time obito thinks about kakashi too strongly

there are like hundreds of him within the day

He's thinking ab Kakashi ALL THE TIME

He can't turn it off !!!!

hes just mentally ill like that

Kakashi plague. Its terminal.

....he doesn't want to get better anyways

He is surrounded by infinite Kakashi's. Kakashi no jutsu

thaats so real of him,,,,

He can summon bunny suit Kakashi at a whim

bunny suit kakashi is the most often summoned...

You know that "go for it XXX!" Draw ur character here meme?

That but it's "go for it Obito!" And all the Kakashi faces are different Kakashi's from the ✨ Kakashiverse ✨

Ok so um. Um.

Yokai kid Kakashi borrowing from @ohai-there's design. Who's a little dimension hopper, who also lost his dad (who is also a dimension hopper)

And he's like. Hopping from world to world looking for his dad, right? And whenever he world hops he usually goes to that worlds Kakashi for help / bc Sakumo might be w him

And somewhere along the way he runs into our Obito and somehow gets Obito to agree to help him (the why and how doesn't matter)

But now it's Obito on a multiversity journey lead by a little yokai kid kakashi. Meeting all these different versions of Kakashi and losing his mind ab it

I'm picturing the actual dimension travel as like. Wandering down a dark corridor between worlds with kakashi holding a lamp, guiding the way

(Easy for Obito to wander off the path and get lost and end up in a new world)

Kid Kakashi is pouting and going "you're supposed to help me find tou-san!! Not get lost yourself >:("

Maybe Sakumo lost his own lamp which is why Kakashi is looking for him, he's presumably lost his guiding light back

like its so dark that obito's brain starts making up The Horrors while little kid yokai kakashi is just

:3

as they walk

YES. PERFECT.

"Don't look in the dark too long, your puny mortal mind won't like it"

poor sakumo,,,

he lost his kid and now hes lost himself 😔

There's a metaphor somewhere in there ab Sakumo always losing himself no matter the circumstances/world

fr

bro cant get a break

and kakashis always the one picking up the pieces 😔

Thinking . Whatever kind of yokai they are can access the path between worlds + are (mostly) immune to the horrors that lurk there

But their family has the special lamps that they need to actually know what they're going, so without that it's fucking useless to try and get wherever ur going, you will be lost forever, never able to find the world u want to find

You can stumble out into other worlds and all but like.

You have no control of it

And there's a decent chance you'll get trapped in the dark anyways so it's best to just stay put in the first world u find

Which is presumably what Sakumo's doing

thats so real of him

u know how u tell children if ur lost just stay there and ur parents will come find u

Its that but opposite

Dw Sakumo, Kakashi will find you! Hopefully.

hopefully,,,,

+ 1 obito

Kakashi following little broken fragments of his father's shattered lantern where Sakumo's made a path of where he's been

Following the breadcrumbs,,,

+1 obito! Can't forget him!

what kind of a universe is sakumo waiting in....

Kakashi is living in a grim dark fairy tail ab following the magic breadcrumbs to find his missing father he's been searching for for a long time now

Meanwhile Obito is living it up in a moderately horny crack fic eyeing up bunny suit Kakashi's and having a seizure over a world where Kakashi is in love with him and comes on real strong when they bump into eachother the first time

the genre is a matter of perspective fr....

also obito being sooo tempted to want to stay in the universe where kakashi loves him so openly

but then little kakashi just :(

obito: 😬 shit. ok let's go

Obito has Kakashi's THROWING themselves at him but he can't abandon babykashi's quest 😔

But later..........

later,,,,

Surely he can come back with kamui

Surely

OBITO KAKASHIVERSE SEX TOUR AB TO HIT UP EVERY OPEN AND WILLING KAKASHI IN THE MULTIVERSE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ ‼️‼️‼️

🗣️ 🗣️ 🗣️

hes keeping a mental note of the path he had to take!!! of the vibes of each universe!!!

He had his sharingan ON when tracing the paths between worlds

And yeah, maybe he burned some of The Horrors Between Worlds into his brain forever bc of it. But you know what ELSE he burned into his brain??

IT WAS WORTH IT

what time obito is it too

post war??? he manages to survive somehow??? Or like when hes still doing his tobi thing

Tobi I think just bc hes at his most insane ab Kakashi

Peak humor and internal turmoil

based af,,,,

Tobi is being mistaken for the worlds real Obito in a world where Kakashi and him are married and just going w it. Yes, it is he. Ur husband. Who u married. Bc u are in love with him. And married. (Distant screaming noises)

Actually. Completely unrelated fic where Kamui allows Obito to dimension travel and he uses it to go to a dimension where him and Kakashi are married. And then he fucking murders the Obito there and takes his place, the end

Waaa art time!! Ohai also drew their own (honestly insane, beautiful, and tbb kind of stunning) piece [HERE] which you should look at immediatley.

Um. Um. Something about how Kakashi and Sakumo wear smthn over their eyes. And like how they're immune to the whole "Witnessing the horrors between worlds" thing. And like. Idk, implications there.

Are they truly immune to the horrors or is it the talismans on their faces that protect them? Who knows

immune to the horrors but also not immune to being lost without light

I'm gonna throw up !!!

Maybe the real lantern......was the light they made along the way........and when Sakumo lost his light....it was bc he lost kakashi...or smthn...

Is the lantern a metaphor for the will to live

It might be, who knows

kakashi wont lose his lantern as long as hes trying to find his dad,,

UGH!!! He starts to give up and his lantern cracks a little

STOP UR MAKING ME WANT TO MAKE THIS AN ACTUAL FIC WITH NAARATIVE I CANT DO THIS

Anyways. Final thoughts :

Obito living his best life in this one.

[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.”

[nadvs]

“Yeah,” is all he can say. Because he’s already found the girl he needs. She just doesn’t need him back.”

“Every morning, every afternoon, every night, you’re on his mind. You’ve thrown him completely off center, dominating every second of his day, the longing to see you when he’s not with you insatiable.”

“My mom said it’s cute how obviously in love Rafe is with you.”

“You think he’s kidding. He’s not. He feels insanely protective over you, and while he can see that you’re not that bothered by this, he’d get those idiots you’re working with in line if you needed him to.”

“This is only getting more difficult. He wants to tell you that he’s serious. That he’d do anything to make things easier for you, that you don’t deserve to be ignored, that you should cut this act out and be with him for real.” (this is my fav part)

“He can’t talk like that with a girl who’d never want him. Who he’d never recover from getting rejected by.”

“He’s hopeful you follow through. Because even if you’re there as a friend, as all you’ll ever want to be to him, he plays better knowing you’re watching.”

“His stomach flips and he feels like a little kid with a crush on a girl in his class. The effect you have on him is starting to get really damn embarrassing.”

“I’ll give you her email, alright?” Rafe says impatiently. “You done now? I’m trying to talk to my girl.”

“Hearing you say those words and knowing they’ll never be directed to him is its own brand of agony. And it’s so soft, so insane that he’s already thinking about love, but you’ve thrown him for such a loop that he can’t control it.”

“You need your crush on Rafe to remain superficial. Any deeper and you’re just opening yourself up to more heartache.”

“You lean on the armrest, settled next to him with your arm pressed against his, finding that you’ve grown to enjoy the conversations you’re always having outside of the crowds, the feeling of being tucked away into privacy together.”

“At least Rafe won’t see you with another guy once you call this off, but now he’s wondering if he’ll see you at all, if you want to stay friends with someone like him, if he can manage being platonic with a girl who has so ruthlessly claimed his heart.”

nadia... girl... you CANNOT drop this bomb on me and just act like nothing happened. i have literally no words to express how much this chapter broke me simply because of the descriptions of how rafe feels about reader... you describe love so well and its actually making me ill because oh my god i want them to be together asap and ur like freaking torturing me. i love love love this SOOO much u dont know how much i adore ur writing!!!!!! literally made my week. love u bb 💝

i’m a mess in the best way. i ADORE seeing which parts you liked most!! it makes me feel like my story is in a book and i’m seeing what’s underlined 🥹 it’s such a cool way to see the fic through your eyes!! thank you so much. i love exploring how feelings grow/develop and how simultaneously painful and wonderful love can be in my writing, so hearing that i describe love well means the world 😭 (and this fic was partly inspired by sumn i heard abt how a properly done slowburn is when their first kiss takes so much time and tension that the reader themself feels relief once it finally happens and that became my GOAL hehe) love you so much, thank you angel 💘

[into-fiction]

I'm interested in the time-traveling au ideas!!!

I've read a lot of Glinda time-travelling aus and they're all starting to blur together at this point lol, but I would still read it if you have something unique and interesting tho!! Like maybe time traveller Glinda still has anxiety and is over-thinking every little changes she makes, or maybe she decides <i>not</i> to befriend Elphaba and try to take down morrible and the wizard all on her own

I've never read a time travel au with both Glinda and Elphaba as time travellers before tho, that could be interesting!!

Maybe it could be them before For Good (song not movie), like maybe around the cat fight or before Fiyero went with Elohaba. Where they haven't seen eachother for years, where Elphaba thinks Glinda actually believes all the propaganda stuff she says in front of the crowds and she feels like she cant trust Glinda with helping her take the Wizard down.

Glinda and Elphaba going back to the quiet nights in the dorm room that were usually the filled with shared secrets, and realize they dont know anything about each other anymore.

They’re strangers with a history.

I saw someone say that in For Good (song), Glinda becomes someone who could have considered going with Elphaba in Defying Gravity while Elphaba becomes someone who would have considered staying.

This is before that, they time travel with a Glinda who still thinks they should work with the system to bring it down from the inside while this is an Elphaba who still thinks they should rebel. And they both disagree with each other because neither of them are seeing results from the other.

And maybe eventually, they'll see that it's necessary to try to take the system down both from the inside and outside, but they need to work together in an organized manner.

ooo i love your brain!

i have yet to read any time travel fics (on my list tho!) so I'm not sure what the overall themes are in this fandom! but i can try and say what I've been thinking so far (no true plot, just thoughts).

for glinda by herself:

i have a fondness for 'elphie trying to figure out glinda' stories and i think post-canon glinda is esp fun to play with. i have a few headcanons i'd want to throw in (that she's terrified of morrible, that she's still traumatized by elphie's death, etc). i think all my glinda's have anxiety so that's kinda a given.

if it were elphie pov, i feel it would be easier to explore the way a post-canon glinda interacts with the world and people around her.

if it were glinda pov, i feel it would be easier to explore time travel lore and themes of loss.

(there's a certain tragedy in just-glinda time travel bc even if there's a happy ending, it's not a happy ending with her elphie. I'm not afraid of a bit of tragedy tho)

for both of them together:

i had a couple people suggest they shouldn't know they both are back at first! which i could see being either a very funny or very angsty. either way, it would definitely add some obstacles.

the nice part about both together is that its the right elphie. and depending on where in the timeline you pluck them from, there's a lot of room to explore the gelphie dynamic both in and post canon.

also i get hooked on ages/timeline shit so the idea of them suddenly being in younger bodies, having the muscle memory & magical control that goes with that, etc is very fun to me.

your idea:

i feel like the concept of it being pre For Good gelphie is honestly really cool! if u don't mind, i actually think it works better as a time loop au over time travel?? in like a 'they both try their way and neither one works and they just keep trying till they realize they have to work together' type way.

but ALSO- a time travel fic where they lowkey kinda hate each other would be super fucking fun to explore.

[bluedandylyon]

My top ten highlights from SolarPoweredFlashlight's SPoP fics

SPF is my favorite fic author, their prose and character analysis is genuinely inspiring. I recently read all of their spop works and I wanted to celebrate by sharing my favorite lines I underlined while reading. Everyone should go and read their stuff!

These are lines that made me A U G H audibly while reading it. I either cried, stared at it in awe for like five minutes, or both at the same time. I kept this SFW and pretty much spoiler-free, the list would change a bit otherwise.

10- My own name forms organically on my lips like something precious, something completely natural, like morning dew on a blade of grass - something that’s just meant to be there. In this moment of total vulnerability, I’m not just going through the motions of giving her the reassurance I know I would want. I love her. I love her because she’s mine, because I’m hers, because I’m all she has and she’s all I have, because I am her, and I trust her, and in this moment, I can keep her and protect her and treasure her in a way I’d never have been able to when we were just one person in one body and one mind. - Point of View

9- Adora’s eyes are a summer stormcloud, a giddy race through warm pattering drops of water on a hot day when for once it doesn’t feel so terrible to be caught in the rain. They’re safety. They’re home. - Aftermath

8- “It sort of freaks me out,” Adora whispers against the top of Catra’s head, still running fingers through her hair, “the idea that things can just happen to me, and change who I am, and I don’t have any control over it.” [...] She thinks about that, thinks about the dilemma of choice and the way a person becomes what their environment throws at them, thinks about how differently each Horde Cadet reacted to the pressures of their upbringing and then the horrors of war. “You and me both,” she says quietly. She doesn’t have some kind of wise, reassuring answer for Adora. She’s spent her entire life hurting herself and hurting other people in an attempt to reclaim even the illusion of control over her life, over her personhood. - Aftermath

7- I follow the length of magnificent muscle and sinew, my lips rude and reckless as they interrupt that perfection with their crude admiration - Blood in the cut

6- She’s noticed a significant number of the thin raised lines across Adora’s body come in perfect sets of four. - Aftermath

5- “Hey,” Catra says, her voice seeming kind for once, forgiving instead of judgmental - as if, like the landscape, everything sharp and brilliant about her is softened by the fall of dusk. “Coming, princess?” - If you like Piña Coladas (and getting caught in a lie)

4- He had felt the shape of the hook in his mouth, and swallowed it regardless in a desperate gambit to make the lure into something real. - Aftermath

3- What does it mean when you go through the process of mourning someone and then they come back to you?  What does it mean that part of Adora always hoped, always wanted to believe Catra wasn’t gone from her life forever? She wonders if this is the way a sapling feels about the warm touch of sunshine in spring, having endured the harshest depths of its first winter with nothing but the hope that someday summer would return. - Like something I wasn’t aware I’d left behind

2- She smiles, and it undoes me a little more, and I think:  It’s unfair that the universe is made like this, that we can all be so fucking meaningless and yet have the power to ensnare each other so thoroughly that it makes us forget that there's never been a point to anything and never will be. How can any one person bear the burden of being so intensely important to someone else? 

Or, at least, I think something like this. It’s a surge of feelings more than it’s anything actually made of words. In words, what I think is: Fuck. - Blood in the cut. 

1- Adora can’t help but think about how Wrong Hordak described music: An act of creation purely for the enjoyment of something skilfully made and pleasing to behold. She wonders how many hours of practice Bow had to put into this skill, to make it sound so good, to play something that has the power to pierce her heart and make her feel like she’s on fire. She considers the violin itself, marvels at its construction, at its function, and wonders how many hours it took the person who made it. So much effort and dedication, all for an end result that isn’t productive, isn’t useful. It’s… glorious.  It makes her feel awe, even though this is hardly the first time she’s seen Bow play it before. There’s something special in the way he’s playing tonight… but maybe that’s just the alcohol talking. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that for the first time in her life, Adora allows herself to wonder if she could do something like that, too. If she could master some kind of craft for no reason other than wanting to create something beautiful. - Aftermath

[battingmyeyelashes]

hi. its tumblrs least favorite bill dickey enjoyer, the worlds WORST girl, here to talk about the man himself, AGAIN. but this time...its a little more 18+... quite a bit, actually. please dont open this up if you dont want to be jumpscared by the creepy psychoanalysis girls' ramblings...as for the rest of you, get a lil treat and a drink and come meet me under the cut, ok? ‪‪❤︎‬ does anyone even read these posts?

‪‪❤︎‬ so ive stressed quite a bit about bills personality type and i feel like its pretty clear that i obviously dont think hes the type of guy who would tolerate getting topped/dommed. if u dont understand why, ur gonna have to refer to my other posts about him..

that being said...i was specifically talking about hard domming. what i DO think he would actually secretly be into, is soft dom stuff.

well look at me, getting an education in nothing important ~ ‪‪❤︎‬ i see quite a bit of fics where bill gets hard dommed, and i understand why people like it because obviously the complex love/hatred for that man is strong and they wanna see him suffer. but just realistically speaking, i think itd bruise his ego too badly. dont think he could really get into someone just completely berating him, bc as i have said before, a person like bill always replies with doubling down and completely going overboard when backed into a corner or feeling like hes being overpowered.

however...with soft domming, i think itd be the perfect combination of feeding into his ego and introducing him to a guilty pleasure that he doesnt know he has + kinda knocking him down a peg. its abundantly clear that he has a strained relationship with his mother, so i think the more soft/nurturing/maternal & sweet type of domming would suit him so well.

sweet praising, gentle leading, reassurance, + soft control..

‪‪❤︎‬"those pretty brown eyes...you look so handsome when youre all sleepy...i know youre exhausted, sweet boy, but you can keep going...cum for me one more time, ok?"

‪‪❤︎‬"youre being so good..are you gonna keep being good for me?"

‪‪❤︎‬"you fill me up so well...you wanna cum in me? would that make you feel good, sweet boy?"

‪‪❤︎‬"i love when you moan for me like that...so pretty."

its kind of very mildly degrading masked with praises hehe. itd definitely confuse his poor mind to some degree, but i can just picture him warming up to it so well. itd probably start with a lot of resistance. for simplicity's sake + my own odd possessiveness over darth dickey, im using my lil oc isabella as an example, but u of course can pretend its anyone...

i can imagine her making little comments similar to the ones above ^ to him while theyre doing things in the bedroom, and just watching him become slightly disturbed over it, like, "youre praising me but i feel kind of emasculated for some reason," and he'd probably make some remark about it later on or try to shut her up in the moment...but itd sit in the back of his mind. and somethin would stir in him.

why did it feel...good? that specific kind of praise? of course isabella knows why, but he doesnt really get it. instead, he just waits for her to do it again...and when she does, he doesnt fight it. he just lets that warm feeling settle in his stomach, and he relishes in it... eventually it might even get to the point where he subtly asks for it. making little comments here and there.

"last night was really good...better than usual."

nothing more than that. he expects her to just get it. and she does. so she will do it for him again, and again, and again... eventually getting to the point of him letting her take complete control over whatever theyre doing together.

gently toying with ❤︎‬rgasm denial, ed❤︎ing, ‪‪

❤︎‬verstimulation...the whole thing. you know...

and o my. would that man feel things... emotionally speaking, as well. he'd definitely try to rationalize it to himself. he just likes that she's having to do all the work and he doesnt have to do anything. hes "tougher" for being able to handle it. hes just doing it to let her have fun for once bc hes just sooo nice. etc. etc. etc.

and of course it could never leave the bedroom. if anyone else found out, it would be completely over for sure. do not test that man. he has limits. besides, u wouldnt wanna break his heart and ruin his fun like that, would u? its ur fun too, after all. ‪‪❤︎‬

i know this is kind of an odd topic to talk about. ive never rlly gotten this explicit on here before, and im a little shy to, lol. but aside from the little stomach flutters when thinking about it, i find it just so interesting to wonder how these types of things fit in with his psyche. so...thoughts? ‪‪❤︎‬

o gosh. im gonna get pitchforks and torches over this, arent i?...i am ready for the bullying.

- xo.

[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

[tetsunabouquet]

Hiii <3 so I saw your post and u said u wanted more requests so I have one if you don't mind

(I'm staying anon but I feel like people will recognize me from my request LMFAO🫣)

SOOOO can I ask for either headcanons or a oneshot abt Akashi if his two personalities were twin brothers? some ideas just to get gears turning could be like them during teiko, with Rakuzan, vorpal vs jabberwocky, kuroko's bday, stuff like that

(just to be clear these are just suggestions and u don't have to write about them all😭)

THANK U SMM🥰🥰

A/N: Just to clarify two little things, I know that his two personalities are always referred to as Oreshi and Bokushi, but these aren't names we could give to the twins as they are last name based. Whilst in my fic, The Reddest Sand where his other personality magically appeared as a twin and the GOM named him, this is obviously an AU where they were born as twins so I went over the names of the richest Japanese to pick a name that felt posh and what Masaomi might choose. Bokushi is named Masayoshi for this heacanon as its meaning fits someone of a good standing and with it resembling Masaomi's name it would probably be a bit of an ego stroke for him.

I will be giving my general headcanons to them as twins, but feel free to request for more Akashi twins content! If my VK fans prove anything, it's that I'm good at producing hot twin content.

-From a very early age, Seijuro had to learn how to perform damage control for Masayoshi's outbursts towards the other rich kids and everyone considers him the nicer twin. -Both feel protective over the other for their own reasons. Seijuro, because it's his little brother and he clearly needs some proffesional help, whilst Masayoshi is protective of his older brother precisely because he doesn't wants his older brother to fail and upset their father. -In this AU, Seijuro is captain and Masayoshi is his vice captain both at Teiko and Rakuzan. -This did lead to the occasional conflicts, like when Seijuro was about to lose to Murasakibara until Masayoshi stepped in and defeated him for Seijuro. Masayoshi was a better leader for the team in that period, but because Seijuro was the eldest and continued running the damage control, he continued being captain much to Masayoshi's disappointment as he felt like it was his turn. -However, his teammates have some mad respect for Seijuro being able to handle an angry Masayoshi, something not even their father manages to achieve. -Initially, people think Seijuro is the angel to Masayoshi's devil but when you get to know the twins better, you'd know that like yin & yang, they each have a splotch of each other's traits. Seijuro might rarely get angry, but when he is, you should better stay the fuck away from him which Masayoshi is always smart enough to do, whilst Masayoshi does has a friendlier side. -As a matter of fact, whilst often for the wrong reasons, Masayoshi is the one more easily convinced to joke around with the other team members whilst Seijuro just stands around with an '👁👄👁' expression as the chaos proceeds to unfold. -Seijuro can be rather passive around Masayoshi as his mind just goes to blank in social situations unlike his twin who's much more assertive about what he likes, is curious about, etc. -If you ask Izuki, he'd call the twins Passive & Agressive. -A shared hobby by the twins is horse riding. They each have their own horse and like racing each other since childhood. Especially when things are uneasy between them. They let all their anger out during the race and whenever they reach their favorite private spot, talk it out with a small picnic their maid packed for the twins, who from the vibe around the house could guess this was what they were planning to do. -Despite Seijuro being the oldest, it was Masayoshi holding him and being his rock during their mother's funeral rather then him trying to compose himself and be the good big brother. Their mother's funeral was the one time during their childhood when Seijuro just couldn't hold himself together. -The twins keep score of who wins at Shogi in a little notebook. They have it categorized by dates and the number of rounds as a general track record and have this unspoken rule that the current winner gets dibs to everything. -Before losing to Kuroko, the twins had only ever experienced loss at each other's hands.

[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.

[chronicallyonline101]

hi!!!! this is the anon that sent in the Melone ask (if you recieved it), i was rereading Dumb Killers nd i have a few questions!!! if thats okay!!!

what inspired you to write it??? like its such a heavy fic, the chapters are SO long and we're 10 chpts in now without even half the cast introduced so i can imagine its got a long while to go !! how r u managing this??? are you okay mentally???

second of all, is it gonna follow canon? or have you got your own plot made up??

im excited for the next chapter !!! i cant wait to find out what happens with the team, and how Pesci will eventually join! that scene with (who i think was) Prosciutto's dad had me gasping lol

HI. I SQUEALED WHEN I READ THIS !!! ik u! I call you melone-anon to my friends cuz im currently writing ur request and its one of my favs 🤭🤭 it'll be out soon!! sozzies its taking so long ive got a few projects im working on atm so im a bit slow on everything !!

OKAY. SO. THIS IS GONNA BE WEIRD but the reason i wanted to write Dumb Killers is because i read this fic in like... January? I want to say? It was a La Squadra x reader and it was PERFECT. for some time... it was over 100k words, had a LOT of kudos and seemed pretty good but the thing was that it started out AMAZING and then like, after a few chapters turned into sensless smut... like, i LOVE smut but the plot of the fic stopped progressing because literally EVERY. OTHER. CHAPTER. the characters were getting freaky and i got bored and it pissed me off so bad i decided right then and there i needed to write my own fic!

i actually have imaginary beef with that author now cuz their fic has around 700 kudos and i wanna beat them BUT ANYWAYS. ENOUGH OF ME BEING JEALOUS OVER OTHER AUTHORS.

i feel a bit bad that the chapters are so long but i literally have no control over it 😭 i just start writing and by the time im done 20k lines the page... i looked on the ao3 subreddit to see if it was normal and was pleased to learn that on average most authors do around 10-15k SO IM NOT WEIRD.

ALSO. its only long rn cuz its the introduction! Pesci will be introduced by chpt 12, and after that things start speeding up! prommies!

it will kinda follow canon??? i have my own plot in mind, and that plot will slowly bleed into canon! but its not gonna follow canon exactly, the events of GW are gonna unfold from La Squadra's POV up until Ghiaccio's fight, and then its gonna get a bit quirky (: BUT I CANT SPOIL. SO. TAKE WITH THAT WHAT YOU WILL!!!!

im so glad your enjoying!!! seeing comments like these makes me giggle nd kick my legs 🤧🤧 and yes! It was Prosciutto's dad! well done! 😚😚 im giving you a big kiss! i hope you like the next chapter! it should be out soon!!!!

[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.

[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