#write length

[kiplex]

You really do think Caleb was a dog in his past life.

Here you are, on your bed dying from the most excruciating period cramps you think you've ever had in your entire life and Caleb has his head on your uterus.

It's honestly your fault for saying the hot water bottle wasn't hot enough, and… probably yelling at him too in the process. He panicked, you could see the gears turn in his head before he made you lay down on the bed and then planted his head on your stomach. “There!” He said triumphantly, if he had a tail you're sure he'd be wagging it, he looks so stupidly proud of himself as he nuzzles into lower abdomen. “You always say ‘I'm so insufferably hot’ when we cuddle at night, so I'm your hot water bottle now.”

You sigh and Caleb's head rises and falls with your breath, you can't be mad at him, not when he's giving you those big puppy dog eyes. “If it gets uncomfortable, I'm banishing you to the couch." You mumble, relenting finally. Caleb's eyes light up and he nods into your stomach. "I'll be gentle, I promise.” Your hand runs through his hair as he places a kiss on your tummy letting out a boyish giggle. He's far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his phantom tail smacking against the bed from how happy he was to be helping, and being this close to you.

...

Yeah you're sure Caleb was a dog in a past life.

You can find my master list here

[sacred-treasure]

𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧

𝗙𝗨���𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝘅 𝗙𝗘𝗠!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

Summary: Toji comes home after a long shift to you, his sweet roommate, asleep on the couch. His innocent admiration turns into something darker as he gives into repressed desires

Warnings: dark content!!—dubcon, somnophilia (touching over clothes, reader orgasms while asleep), age gap (toji's in his 40s, reader's in her early 20s), pet names, smut, 18+, do not read if any of these are upsetting to you!!

Word Count: 2.75k

Author's Note: This is loosely based off of @holeforzenin's Roommate Toji series. That version of Roommate!Toji would not do something like this, but the idea of that dynamic had us both reeling and I absolutely had to write something about it!!

Toji was tired. No, exhausted.

He’s honestly not sure there’s a word in the dictionary that can truly sum up the total depletion of energy from his overworked muscles. Each work day is never just as short as the schedule says and with him working a blue collared job, there’s absolutely no way he gets to clock out unscathed.

Every night he comes home to a silent apartment, a cold bed, and dinner already packed up in two tupperware containers in the fridge. They have matching sticky notes attached to them; one says “dinner!” and the other says “for lunch!”, and if he’s honest, he finds the little smiley faces you draw beside the messages endearing. But he probably would never admit to it. Not to your face, at least.

He’s used to the hum of the microwave as he lets the scent of spices from your cooking fill the small space of the kitchen. Toji may not be good at expressing it but he’s truly quite thankful to have you around the apartment. It’s hard enough having a job that demands every waking moment from him—not to mention the stacks of billing statements sitting on the dining table—but having to plan meals after each night is truly something he doesn’t have time for.

But tonight, he has something better than a homemade meal waiting for him.

Toji unlocks the front door with one of the keys attached to the old carabiner hanging off his belt loop, the simple action feeling immensely laborious. Grabbing hold of the doorframe, he toes off his shoes one after the other and neatly sets them beside your pair of converse, the soles scuffed and worn with their age. When he finally raises his head, he’s met with your sleeping form draped across the couch.

Typically, you finish separating his meals after eating a portion yourself and spend the rest of the night in your room studying until your brain physically can’t cram any more information inside of it. He never asks for your attention, though he misses it dearly at night, and tends to cling onto the memories of your laughter filling the living room.

A sudden applause snaps him back to the present and he turns his head toward the sound. The television is still on, one of the old cartoons you mentioned you grew up watching plays softly in the background. He scoffs and shakes his head at some joke that falls flat before stepping with heavy feet further into the apartment until he’s towering over the couch where you lay.

The light from the screen bathes your face in a warm glow. He takes this moment to really commit your features to memory, although he doesn’t know the exact reasoning behind his actions. The scene from the show changes and the colors illuminating your face alter their hue. He thinks you look pretty like this, peaceful at last after all your running around between chores, classes, and work.

Toji doesn’t even think before reaching down and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Your nose crinkles from the tickle of his finger brushing across your cheek, but your eyes remain shut. A smile tugs at his lips as he finds the action kind of adorable.

His eyes begin to wander lower as he focuses on each one of your steady breaths. The rise and fall of your body is accentuated by the thin tank top that clings to your chest, the strap beginning to slip off your shoulder and exposing another inch to the line of your cleavage. He feels heat slowly begin to crawl up his neck and he immediately fixes his gaze on the wall above your head.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, you know better,” he scolds himself.

Has it been a while? Yes. Has he ever viewed you in that light before? Well, if he’s honest it has crossed his mind. He can’t exactly blame himself. All he’s had time for is work and barely getting enough rest before doing it all over again the next day. There hasn't been time to even think about getting into a relationship, much less having time to find someone for sex.

However, having a cute, young girl in the house certainly makes things interesting. He’s only had thoughts that involve you for a brief moment, and the second he realizes what he’s imagining, he forces himself to stop.

Though, there’s something about this scene that stirs in his stomach before settling below his belt. It’s a feeling he can’t name, but one that isn’t altogether unfamiliar. It’s something akin to lust, but there’s another emotion curled around it—guilt, or maybe shame. He knows the role he plays in your life and he knows damn well he shouldn’t even be considering something like this.

But today Toji is just too tired.

That indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach returns but for once, he allows it to stay. His fingers reach for the remote to the television, sparing only one glance to press a soft button to mute the sound before placing it back on the table. 

You look so pretty like this: hair sprawled out across the throw pillow, lips parted slightly with silent snores, pretty legs draped along the length of the couch. He doesn’t know why, but even with all the immense tons of guilt, he can’t stop himself from sinking down on the cushions beside you.

He tells himself he’ll only touch for a second. That’s all—he just needs one second to feel your warmth. But once his hand finally touches you for himself, he wonders why the hell he hasn’t done it sooner.

Soft doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface of just how heavenly you feel. His calloused palms lightly trail over the length of your shin, fingers curling around your smooth skin before brushing his thumb over your knee. Each touch is soaked in affection in its own specific way. Toji’s emotions blend and create something new he’s never felt before.

He lets out a heavy sigh through his nose as he halts his movements altogether. Reasoning and desire fight within him, his head is screaming protests that are ignored as his body’s instincts win the internal battle.

As he shoves the remaining guilt aside, that small spark in his stomach roars to life.

Toji leans down and presses his scarred lips to the bend of your knee. The touch is featherlight and innocent in its own way. With the close proximity, he can smell the scent of your body wash layered underneath the sweet smell of the lotion you lather yourself with after each shower.

The contact of his warm skin is met with goosebumps and he watches with awe as they scatter along the expanse of your leg. A smirk tugs at his mouth when he sees just how sensitive you are, even while unconscious. His eyes trail along your thigh, watching as the bumps spread higher and higher before they disappear under the hem of your pajama shorts.

The thin matching set you’re wearing does nothing but aid in the sense of guilt he’s already drowning in. It reminds him of how vulnerable you look like this, but he tries to reason with himself that he’s been good up until now, right?

His rough fingertips glide over your thigh but come to a full stop when they’re engulfed in the warmth pooling from your core. He hasn’t felt anything so welcoming in months—he doesn’t remember the last time he felt another person’s presence, besides the little moments he’s spent with you. But sexually? He feels like a goddamn teenager all over again.

The twitch of his cock behind his jeans is undeniable and he’s gritting his teeth in frustration at just how easily this is getting to him. But still, he presses on, his thumb swiftly pulling the hole of your shorts to the side and exposing your pink panties.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself in the otherwise silent room. The tension is so thick he wonders if choking on the air would be enough to kill him or if his racing heart would give out first. His hand moves of its own accord, traveling down to the worn denim and cupping the growing bulge below his belt. It’s screaming for relief, for any kind of friction, and his palm does little to stop the continuous blood flowing to the area.

Toji hesitantly reaches for your clothed center, his fingers pressing gently to the supple skin between your thighs. The heat nearly makes him flinch and he swears he hasn’t felt something this soft in his entire life. You let out a quiet sound from his touch as you stir in your sleep. His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights but you merely change the angle of your arm before drifting back off once more.

Toji swallows once before continuing, his eyes trained on the barely noticeable line along the center of your panties. His thumb reaches blindly to the gentle slope of your body and makes contact with your clit. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, smiling as he notices the way your leg twitches, unsure of whether to close or not.

Your head turns and your eyebrows pull together in pleasure at the slow circling of his thumb. On a particular hard press, your breath hitches before breaking off in a pitchy whine. He’s absolutely certain he’s never heard anything sound as sweet as that noise and he’s determined to hear more.

He runs his pointer finger along the center of your folds and watches in awe as the fabric darkens immediately from your slick. He feels his body react strongly to the sight and suddenly his own underwear are sticking to him after a rush of precum leaks from his swollen tip. His freehand curls around his cock and squeezes just underneath the head, refusing to loosen his grip.

The sensation of the damp fabric sticking to your most sensitive area has a shiver creeping up your spine and your skin pebbles once more. Toji’s lust-filled, green eyes follow them in their wake up until they dive under the thin material of your tank top. Your nipples harden in response, peeking the fabric as they stiffen.

This is the most restraint Toji has ever shown in his life, he’s absolutely sure of it.

Every nerve in his body is set alight and is screaming out to touch you more, touch you the way he truly wants. His mind floods with the most perverted images: your eyes shiny with unfallen tears, his name falling from your swollen lips, you seeking him out when you just can’t finish yourself off. Every scene piles on top of the one before until anything left of his conscience is fully submerged in the thought of you.

“T…Toji?” Your voice weakly calls out into the quiet space, shattering the silence. His eyes immediately lock onto yours, taking in the dazed expression on your face. You’re blinking sleep out of your eyes but still drowning in the unconscious fog you were just under.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Toji placates gently, neither of his hands even attempting to stop their motions.

“W-What are you doing?” The tremor in your voice is notable as your gaze casts downwards, watching his wrist moving between your thighs. You gasp at the feeling, suddenly aware of how alarmingly tight the coil inside your stomach already is. “Mmm, Toji, I don’t know if you should be—,” you attempt to warn him, but he cuts you off once more.

“Let me take care of you. Just like I always do, right?” His deep voice is different than you’ve ever heard before. It’s rougher now, something gravely laced into his tone that isn’t the usual fatigue that you’re used to hearing after his late night shifts.

“I take care of you, don’t I, sweetheart?” He presses further, awaiting an answer. You hesitantly nod your head before resting it back against the pillow you had been sleeping on, letting the sensations of his experienced hands roll over your tired body.

“Attagirl, there she is. I got you,” he mutters to himself as he sees your eyes beginning to flutter shut. He pulls his hand away from your clit and begins to rub the inside of your thigh soothingly. His touch makes the slight panic flea your mind, he can physically see the tension leave your body as you give into your unconsciousness lulling you under the waves once more.

“So good for me…” The whispered words fall on deaf ears but he smiles at your features falling back into the peaceful state again. His cock is pulsing faster than the rise and fall of your chest, aching to be freed from the old denim of his jeans. But he focuses all his attention on you instead.

He brings his calloused palm back between your legs to cup your covered pussy once more. This time, he tugs at the bow at the center of the waistband, watching with a stifled groan as the panties bunch up between your folds. The action only defines your body even further and he has to bite back the urge to tear the fabric entirely.

“You’re fuckin’ ruining me,” Toji grunts as he presses his thumb back to your clit. He moves quicker this time, determined to make you feel good. He applies more pressure on each circle around your sensitive spot and your body begins to reel from it all.

Your thighs shut around his hand, rocking up into his touch subconsciously. Small whines begin cascading from your mouth and it only spurs him on further.

Toji doesn’t slow his actions when he notices you coming for him. He merely watches as your back arches, hips chasing after your orgasm as breathy, broken sounds spill past your parted lips. Your stomach clenches, thighs tensing as your hand comes to weakly push his larger one away when the pleasure blurs into overstimulation.

“Tojiiiii.” Another weak whimper escapes your slumber as your leg faintly twitches with his slow circles. Pride soaks the smile that adorns his face and he can’t even help the whispered praise that leaves him.

“Good girl. Did so, so well,” his speaks softly, the words dripping with adoration. You begin to move again and his eyes follow to your fingers that softly curl around his palm. There’s a fondness in his chest as he watches you reach out to him, looking for his support even in your subconsciousness.

Any remaining energy is completely drained from your body after the orgasm he brought forth. He watches your body fall into a deeper sleep than before he even interrupted, your chest reverting to its slow rise and fall. He gives a light squeeze to your curled fingers before standing up to finally retreat to his room for the first time tonight.

“Get some rest, pretty,” he whispers against your forehead as he bends down. His lips press a gentle kiss to your temple as he cups the back of your head, the act completely innocent in nature.

When Toji finally sinks into the soft mattress of his bed, he’s drowning in the memories of what just occurred. His cock still aches for his attention, swollen tip flushed and shiny with precum. He frees himself from the confines of the denim, wincing when his hard length slaps up against his stomach. The same hand that brought on your orgasm wraps around his thick dick. It doesn’t take long until he’s spilling white, a choked back grunt stuck in his throat as he pictures your soaked panties.

The next morning, the both of you dance around each other with a thickness in the air. Toji’s unable to meet your eyes due to the knowledge of what he’s done.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask innocently from the kitchen counter, your back facing the man twice your age. Toji chokes on his coffee, setting the mug down all too fast while clutching his chest.

“Shit,” he curses as he catches his breath. “Y-yeah. Guess I did?” The statement twists highest at the end and comes across as more of a question. “Late night. ‘M beat. How about you, kid?”

“I slept okay, I think? Had a weird dream last night,” your voice grows quieter as the flashes of Toji’s face foggily return to your brain. “Felt so realistic, though…”

[shouyuus]

18+, vi-shaped brainrot, mdni

consider college roommate!vi who is the star of the rugby team and just such a fucking jock about it, spends hours at the gym, has pre and post workout drinks and never closes her door when she's blasting rock music, leaves pink hair dye on the bathroom counter, stains the tub when she gets drunk and tries to redo her roots, calls you everything but your name -- sweetcheeks, dollface, cupcake, princess -- isn't shy about her hookups, doesn't even bother to apologize the mornings after another pretty cheerleader scampers out of her room, shrugs and winks when you come out of the bathroom with a tiny thong dangling off your finger that's clearly not either of yours.

college roommate!vi who does kickboxing on the weekends and teaches a kid's course at the local gym. the first time you go there to drop something of her's off as a favor, you can't help but stare at the way she laughs and chases the kids around, so gentle with her movements, so careful, guiding their punches, correcting their forms. and the kids love her -- it's so easy to see, the stars in their eyes, the color high in their cheeks, the way the girls cluster around her legs and the boys are constantly vying for her approval, how she tries her best to divide up her attention equally between all of them.

college roommate!vi who goes real quiet the first time you laugh in her presence, a real laugh, not one of those ha-ha ones you snipe at her when she's trying to get a rise out of you, or teasing you about spending all your time in the library, but one that shakes your shoulders and makes your whole face light up. who has to blink when you cock your head and ask if she's okay bc she was so busy staring at you, wondering about the weird thumping in her chest, the tightness in her throat.

college roommate!vi who's there for you when you're stressed about your dissertation, and she knew you were smart, but listening to you rant about it at 3am in the morning, she's starting to realize that... you're kind of a genius. to be so young and already doing a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and the things you're trying to do -- they could conceivably change the world one day. who freezes when you let your head drop onto her shoulder with a heavy sigh, telling her that you don't know what to do.

"you'll figure it out, cupcake. with a brain like yours? you always do."

college roommate!vi who realizes way too late that she's kinda got it bad for you, bc since when did she start getting used to the sight of you wearing one of her gym shirts in the mornings, making scrambled eggs, rolling your eyes when she yawns her way into the tiny kitchen, leaning an arm against the fridge as she looks you over before asking what's for breakfast. who's gotten so used to falling asleep to the soft clatter of your computer keys that when you leave to visit your family for a weekend, she tosses and turns and can't figure out why it's impossible for her to get to sleep, wanders into sliver of space you guys have crammed a couch and tv into to call a living room, slumping down there to stare at the ceiling, only to feel her fingers graze against something on the ground, who tugs out the thing from under the couch only to find herself staring at one of your bunched up socks with the goofy cartoon cats pattern, and she remembers (suddenly) finding you tearing your room apart the week before trying to look for it because it's your favorite pair of socks.

she finds herself chuckling, letting the sock fall again, but the tightness in her throat doesn't recede, and invisible fingers clench in her gut as she lets her eyes fall shut.

"well... fuck."

college roommate!vi who doesn't know how to act when you get back from your weekend away, when you throw yourself into her arms, your skin still smelling of the crisp fall air and something warm, and spicy -- it reminds her of the holiday market you dragged her to last year, the cinnamon and spiced apples, the hot, mulled wine, the way it burned all the way down when she took the first sip, the way it worked the most darling flush into your cheeks above your pink knit scarf.

"i've got a present for you!" you say, when you finally extricate yourself from her gasp, your arms still around her shoulders, her hands still settled around your waist.

"y-yeah? you didn't have to do that, sweetcheeks --"

"yeah, but i saw this in a store window and -- well i just... it reminded me of you," you say, pulling back to dig something out of your travel bag, and it takes everything in vi not to tug you back into her chest. so instead, she settles for knitting her arms across her front and coughing to hide the fact that her throat's just tightened over itself at your words. you? seeing something and thinking of her? gods, she was so far gone.

"here," you say, pulling a small black box out and offering it to her on the palm of your hand.

vi stares, before reaching out to take it, her eyes flickering up towards your face, only to catch you chewing on your bottom lip in a way that makes her mind frizzle out at the edges. she refocuses her attention on the box -- opening it, she finds a tiny little gemstone, set on a thin golden chain --

"oh..." she breathes, tugging out up to let the gem dangle from between her fingers.

"it -- it's an alexandrite stone," you say, your voice a bit reedy, but you push on as vi continues to stare, "it's uhm -- one of the rarest gemstones in nature, but the cool thing is it changes colors depending on what kind of light it's under --" you reach up to grasp her wrist, her lungs seizing at the contact as you tug her into the incandescent light of the kitchen. "see? it was light blue a second ago, right? and now it's --"

"violet," vi says, her voice soft and disbelieving.

you quickly let go of her wrist, pursing your lips and wrapping your arms around yourself, looking anywhere but at her face.

"yeah -- i just --" your shoulders shrug up as she stares at you, her sky-light eyes wide, "it... it reminded me of... you."

college roommate!vi who, ever since the "necklace incident" (as the rest of the rugby team likes to call it), hasn't really been the same. she's put on the necklace and not taken it off for even a second since the day you gave it to her, but now she doesn't really know how to act around you -- bc did you actually like her? i mean, the necklace is... a pretty big thing to just give someone, but what if you were just giving it to her as a friend? as a roommate? she agonizes over it to the point that the rest of the team are so, so sick of hearing about it, they lovingly tell her to just fuck her and get it over with already. but vi insists that she can't -- it's different with you.

college roommate!vi who's stunned speechless when she gets home to find you staring at your computer, your expression blank. and at first, she thinks something's horribly wrong, but then you're slamming into her, squealing about how you've done it -- your thesis defense went well, that you're a doctor now -- and she's picking you up, spinning you around, buoyed up by the effervescence of your happiness, pressing a kiss to your cheek --

"oh my god, congrats princess! i knew it! i always knew you could do it!"

"thanks -- god, i just -- i've wanted it for so long i... i don't know what to do with myself now that i've got it, y'know?" you say, still suspended in vi's arms, your feet lifted off the ground. it takes a moment before you both seem to realize the position you're in, and vi clears her throat as she lets you down, you looking away, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the heat gathering there.

after a brief pause though, vi chuckles, reaching out to slip a finger beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards her's.

"c'mon, put on one of those pretty dresses of yours. we're going out."

"out?"

"yeah. to celebrate."

you blink as vi pulls her hand away.

"but it's like... 4:30 on a tuesday."

vi cocks an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at her lips, "yes, and? c'mon cupcake --" her eyes catch yours and instead of looking away, she holds it this time, something flickering behind their powder-blue depths that makes your skin prickle with heat, "i'll show you a good time."

college roommate!vi who takes you to one of her favorite clubs, tugging you through the crowd, the jostling bodies, holding your hand in her's, trying really hard not to think too much about it (or the fucking insane little black and pink miniskirt you put on), telling herself that it's just to make sure she doesn't lose you in the crowd, grinning when someone knocks you into her chest, and she finds her arm wrapped around your waist, fingers scrunching the material of your skirt, your palms splayed on her chest.

she buys the both of you a round of shots, watching with a hitched breath as your tongue flickers out to lick the salt daubed on your wrist, the way your eyes squeeze shut when you take the shot and your lips wrap around the lime slice, tries to ignore the twist in her gut like a turning blade, the way her whole body flushes with heat, the dull ache caught between her legs when you wipe your lips, your eyes bright and a little blown out, your cheeks flushed with color as you giggle and lace your hands with hers again --

"come on! i wanna dance!"

college roommate!vi who is just drunk enough to let herself dance with you, to let herself lean in to the way you're twisting your body, fingers in your hair, your eyes closed, an indulgent smile on your lips, who let's herself imagine (just for a second), pulling you in to kiss you, how soft your lips might feel on hers, how silken your skin might be beneath her hands, who tries not to groan when you lean in closer, link your arms behind her neck, press your whole body against her's, who grips your hips just a little too tight, grinds you against her, sees the way you gasp, your eyelids fluttering as you eyes glaze out --

college roommate!vi who can't help how she groans at the sight, tugs you in by the back of your neck to mash her lips to yours, crushing you to her as she kisses you (finally, finally) and you let yourself he kissed -- your fingers tangle in her choppy pink hair, and she swears you make this sweet, mind-bending whimpering noise in the back of your throat that drives her up the wall and right over it --

but when she pulls back, she sees the look on your face -- shocked and little confused, but you're drunk, and she doesn't wanna do this with you -- at least, not like this.

college roommate!vi who pulls away, only to have you follow her all the way out the club, into this small dark alley, her shaking her head, feeling a strange, saltwater prickle at the back of her throat as she says --

"shit -- sorry. i didn't mean to -- i just -- you were just so -- and i -- fuck, i didn't --"

"vi -- vi -- no, violet, listen to me --"

it's her full name on your lips that makes her pause, makes her turn to find you walking towards her. your lipstick is smeared, your hair a waterfall mess around your shoulders as you corner her against the rough brick of the club's exterior. faintly, she can still feel the pulse of music reverberating from inside the club, but out here, the air is damp and cold and quiet.

"i -- i'm sorry i kissed you," she says, her voice cracking over the syllables. she bites her lips as you frown up at her, your eyes searching her's before you let out a soft sigh and a scoff.

"well. i'm sorry you feel that way. cause..." you take half a step back, your arms curling around yourself before you glance back at her with a hard, determined light to your eyes as you press back into her space, your cheeks bright with color.

"i was really kinda hoping you'd do it again."

vi's breath punches out of her chest; it takes a few seconds of sputtering before she gathers herself enough to speak.

"wait -- what? you..."

you crinkle your nose, rolling your eyes, "i -- i thought i was making it obvious -- i mean, with the whole necklace thing -- it doesn't take a genius to figure how i feel about --"

you squeak as she pins you against the opposite wall, her lips seeking yours out, her fingers rucking up the material of your top, making you hiccup as they tease under the wire-rim of your bra.

college roommate!vi who can barely control herself when you sink your fingers into her hair, tugging lightly as you gasp out a breath, her lips tracking fire along the side of your neck, intent on making you whimper again, just the way she likes, grazing her teeth along your collarbone even as you jerk at her hair --

"vi -- fuck -- vi, not here --" you swallow around the burgeoning desire, and when you glance down to find her looking up at you, her eyes so dark they're almost black, you fight back a groan, cup your palms around her cheeks and pull her up for a long kiss.

"let's --" you suck in a breath even as vi whines at the loss your lips, "let's go home --"

"holy fuck," vi swears, somehow managing to pull herself back just far enough to taste the misty night air. she stares at you, your chest heaving, a daisy-chain of hickeys blossoming along the long expanse of your neck, your makeup good and smeared, your hair a mess, your eyes bright and so full of love as they flicker over her face.

vi smiles, helpless to the loud, uncertain drumming of her heart as she says, "y-yeah -- let's get you home, princess."

college roommate!vi who barely waits for the elevator door to close in your building before she's got you shoved up against the wall, hoisting you up, her fingers seeking out the softness of your skin, tugging up your shirt, her other hand dipping into the waistband of your skirt, her mouth open and hungry as she kisses your neck, bites down at the junction of your shoulder just to hear you moan.

college roommate!vi who's way too good at undoing your bra with one hand the second you get back to your apartment (if you were more coherent, you might've thought it hot), the door slamming closed, the pair of you toppling onto the room, breathy laughs and panting whines as she hoists you into her arms and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down so gently, kissing up your stomach till you're whimpering, your own hands pulling your top off your body, leaving you in an undone-bra and a miniskirt, your cheeks flushed. you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as vi peaks up at you from between your legs, shooting you a wink before she's tugging down your skirt and panties all in one, an eyebrow ticking up at the lil lacey thing you had on beneath the skirt all along.

"all this for me, pretty?"

you press your lips, eyes cutting away as she looks between the bra dangling off your shoulders and the panties caught round your ankles. her lashes flutter.

"oh, a matching set," she cocks her head, running her palms up your thighs, pinning them open again as you try to press them closed, feeling suddenly much too seen (bc you'd be straight up lying if you hadn't put it on in the vague hope that the night might evolve into something like this).

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a cocky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart skitter in your chest. her drops a light kiss to your inner thigh, savoring in the way you whine again.

"nope, keep 'em open princess."

college roommate!vi who takes her time with you, bc rly she's been waiting way too long for this, has imagined it one too many times, but nothing can compare to the way your hips jerk up against her mouth, the way your fingers tighten in her hair every time she licks up the seam of your cunt, the way your breath catches on her name over and over again, like you can't quite get the word out even though it's just a single syllable. she groans against you, too lost in the taste of you to care about what a mess she must look like, with her tongue fucking into your desperate hole, her nose nudging your clit, her fingers digging crescent moon marks into your hipbones.

she's sure that if this were an old-fashioned cartoon, there'd be big, balloon hearts popping out of her eyes. she can't get enough of you like this -- moaning her name, your legs on either side of her face, your skin littered with the remnants of her. she has the eye-rolling thought of you the next morning, of how all these marks will still be there to remind you of her every single time you see one of them.

college roommate!vi who doesn't expect you to flip over after she's literally eaten you out seven ways to sunday, to tug her in for a soft kiss (though she really does like pressing your own taste back into your mouth with her tongue), before your fingers are inching down the length of her body to tease at her hips, trailing circles down the lines of her abs, toying with the thin line of hair that leads into her black boxer briefs.

"what are you --"

you shoot her a look that has her mouth going dry.

"what? didn't think i can give as good as i get?"

college roommate!vi who's literally going to lose her mind with the way you're fingers (at first sight so thin and delicate, but gods are they stronger than they look) are pressing into her, curling up with the kind of precision usually only associated with doctors, and then a voice in the back of her head reminds her -- oh, right, you are a doctor now. but logical thought dies after that, bc you've somehow worked your way between her legs and are looking up at her with those big dark eyes of yours, smiling sunshine bright before you drop a kitten-lick against her clit and she's twitching, keening as she cums all over your fingers.

"jesus fuckin' christ, doll -- is that what you're learning in those engineering classes?"

she's breathless, cheeks flushed, and honestly just a little embarrassed at how quickly she came, but she has to bite back another groan as she watches you lick your fingers clean, grinning sweetly up at her as if you didn't just get her off in record time.

"no, but i did do my dissertation on human-based robotics, which included a lot of late nights memorizing anatomical models so..."

vi pulls you in for a kiss, laughing against your lips.

"you're amazing, y'know that?"

college roommate!vi who can't really believe how much she's lucked out, sharing an apartment with her girlfriend, who literally cannot shut up about you, but the rugby team all agree that they'd rather have this than the months of endless pining. who brags about her genius gf to anyone who'll listen, and looks for you in the stands of all her practice matches when you can make it, who kisses you in front of everyone even when you make a show of trying to wiggle away bc she's sweaty (you don't really care).

who loves telling the story of how you guys met bc she still can't quite believe it herself, and the story always starts with --

"well, actually -- we started off as roommates."

[moratorya]

· ➳ [𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏: 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐁]

when jason holds your hand, he doesn't really intertwine your fingers or anything intricate. honestly, it's probably because his hands are massive, and so it's natural for his hand to completely cover yours in a hold.

but jason likes to express intimacy in other ways, tugging you close whenever you're around, tucking you under his arm with a gruff kind of warmth that makes you smile every time. he loves to use his height to crush on top of you, leaning against you like he's not some six-foot-something built-like-a-fucking-machine kind of guy, and you equally love complaining about it but don't push him away.

a personal favourite, of course, is when he brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

it's his version of interlacing your fingers, of squeezing your palm alongside his. when you hold hands, they kind of clasp together, and his thumb automatically traces the bumps and falls of every knuckle. he does it almost subconsciously; rhythmic, never faltering, and if you pull away to grab something really quick, he just resumes the same pattern as if you had always been in his grasp.

it's the way that the bumps are uniform but also unique, and the thuds of his thumb dragging over them keeps him grounded. lets him know that you're there.

you figured out early on that jason didn't like parading around pda, but he still cherished it like nothing else in the world. so when you're out, and he stands close to you as you eye the items on the shelves, you reach for his hand first, and your thumb touches his knuckles.

the touch sparks him into motion, and soon his arm is thrown across your shoulders as you peer at the spices in the spice aisle, hands tightly held together. you use your free hand to reach for some rosemary, and he hums quietly in agreement as you choose a familiar brand.

his thumb caresses the back of your hand, steady and silent in its movements. he's still dragging it back and forth by the time you reach the cashier, who barely bats an eye at how the two of you are clinging together as she goes through the motions of scanning your items.

when it's time to pay, jason automatically reaches out with cash. you don't think he's ever going to go cashless, not in this lifetime, so you let him dig around for bills and coins, and take the chance to glance up at him.

his brows are furrowed with concentration as he juggles all the bits with one hand, effortlessly flicking up coins into the air to shove the rest of his cash away into his pocket, catching the flashes of silver on their way down as if he had planned it all, like a magic trick. his tone is polite as he says, "here," and hands the exact amount of money over.

if he had wanted to, he could've taken his hand away from yours to better manoeuvre around the cash. instead, his gentle ministrations had never stopped, and if anything, he holds your hand a little tighter as the cashier flusters herself with counting up the individual coins to make sure it was enough.

you smile up at him, not really meaning to. the movement catches in the corner of his eye, and he looks down, curious.

"thanks, jay," you murmur.

"yeah, yeah," he grumbles, herding you towards the end of the counter to grab your reusable grocery bag, "i love you too and all that shit."

you squeeze his fingers gently, and his lips quirk up into a smile. pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he doesn't let go of you, thumb pressed against the knuckles on the back of your hand, even as the two of you leave the supermarket.

[keferon]

Okay so like. IMAGINE it starts pretty usual. Swerve hangs out in the Aquarium for whatever job related reason and accidentally makes friends with the weird looking fish hahah

But then the big Tsunami-flood apocalypse comes and everything is destroyed and water everywhere and all the buildings turn into sharp heavy deadly rubble and now Swerve has to team up with that weird looking fish because the end of the world contains A LOT of water and he never was a good swimmer

[06-riyapatel]

The Reynolds Trimax comes with max smoothness* and an advanced fluid ink technology that makes you feel like the pen is gliding over paper.

[sushiwriterhere]

jack abbot is such a wife guy through and through oh my god. even before him and samira get married, he leans into the domesticity and comfort of their partnership. when she starts staying over, he’s clearing out drawers for her, noting her skin and hair care products so he can get her stuff for his place.

(he isn’t sure how to give them to her, not sure how she’ll take it. is it presumptuous? during a particularly slow shift he familiarizes himself with sephora and ulta and eventually decides, fuck it, he’ll wake her up with breakfast and a bag of her things. the packages get delivered after he’s left for his shift and before he can intervene, she’s texting him a photo of the packages all ‘???’ and all he can say is ‘open them!’ and when he comes home she kisses him breathless just after he walks in the door.)

he still has that lingering anxiety about him being too old and her too beautiful, too accomplished, (too young), and so he stresses for a few weeks after he realizes he wants to propose before robby tells him he’s acting weird and threatens to have dana intervene. after that he comes back to himself but realizes the world of engagement rings has changed a lot since the last time he proposed.

(the pain of becoming a widower never really goes away. his therapist tells him the grief doesn’t get smaller, you just grow around it. he hates the thought of amy being a smaller part of his life, but when samira takes flowers to her grave on their anniversary, while jack is suffering through a night shift from hell, he thinks things might be okay.)

abbot decides he’ll need more than just google can provide (he almost has a pinterest induced migraine), and he asks the people he knows will know best.

dana first, to confirm he hasn’t lost his mind. dana blinks at him before laughing and saying ‘took you long enough to get here.’

then he asks mel king because he figures she’ll know what kind of ring samira might want and maybe how she wants to be proposed to? dr king is an unusually helpful resource, sending him a link to a pinterest board (fuck) that samira and her have apparently been diligently curating. she agrees no fanfare.

his army buddies know who she is before she meets them because he’s always saying samira this and mohan that. they all cheer when he says he’s proposing and that it’s about time.

he thinks he’s going to throw up but also that he’s never been more sure of anything in his life when he holds out the box in his palm, kneeling in the botanical gardens, the two of them hidden by the lushness of first spring’s bloom. she doesn’t say anything, staring at the ring, then at his face, then back at the ring. he knows he’s giving the speech he rehearsed a million times over.

(‘abbot i think you should pick a different prayer when a patient is crashing, that one sounds an awful lot like a proposal speech.’)

samira mohan’s hands shake while she lets him put the ring on her finger, because ‘jack i would’ve said yes a month into dating you.’

(‘aren’t you glad i bullied you into a videographer and photographer?’ jack can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at santos’ tone because now he forever has photo and video evidence that samira mohan said yes to marrying him.)

there’s not a dry eye during the ceremony, robby gives her away, and samira told him robby had cried so hard he’d been shaking when she’d asked. and it’s not an extravagant affair, because samira rolls her eyes when he asks her if she wants the dramatic ceremony.

(her dress is still breathtaking and jack’s coworkers see him cry for the first time.)

after they tie the knot, it really is unfortunate that he can’t (actually) use the ‘my wife said no’ excuse because he really just loves the way ‘my wife said’ sounds. not like that stops him anyways, because dana throws a pen at his head after the fifth, “my wife said no.” in response to her strict instructions to stop hanging around after his shifts are over.

it’s not as if much truly changes. samira terminates her lease and properly moves into jack’s place. she was the only one really using the kitchen, but now he’s spending his time off redoing the backsplash because he saw her looking at some picture on pinterest for just a little too long.

they adopt the dog she couldn’t stop looking wistfully at after going with mel and becca to the no-adoption-fee event.

(jack only pretends to think about it so she tries to persuade him. his facade lasts approximately thirty seconds into her kissing down his bare chest after they’ve come home before he caves and admits he was googling doggy daycares while trailing her in the shelter.)

they start doing double-date brunches with robby and collins in their backyard when shifts align and jack pointedly does not cry when he and samira open a gift bag containing the tiniest onesie he’s ever seen.

(samira had apparently noticed weeks before but kept the secret to herself aside from checking in on collins occasionally when she’d disappear to be sick in the bathrooms.)

he puts his first ring on a chain that he wears along with his dog tags. he makes his phone background a photo of samira the morning after the engagement (she’s got bedhead and her eyes are puffy from sleep but she’s smiling sleepily at the ring on her hand and jack thinks it should replace the Mona Lisa).

[strangersatellites]

posting this feels like I'm crawling out of my grave and gasping for air

anyway- inspired by this post by @inthedarknessofnight

here's 1.3k of concert photographer!Steve and rockstar!Eddie because I couldn't get this out of my head

gimme, gimme more

1.3k words | this is the most g-rated thing I've ever written, it won't happen again

Steve’s feet hurt.

They always do after a show, but this one was particularly hard on him.

He’s been at this venue for two years now and shot countless shows in that time. But never in his career has he been challenged so– athletically. 

The photo pit at this place is light years better than his last venue. There’s more than enough room for all of the photographers and their gear without stepping on each other. Usually Steve is grateful for this because surely there is only so many more beatings his 35mm can take before it kicks the bucket. Today though, he’s grateful for the space because of the full-tilt sprint this band had him in. 

He’s never seen anything like it.

Well, less so did the band have him in a sprint and more so the frontman but, semantics. 

The guy is everywhere. Steve could barely keep up with the way he ran around stage, jumping, climbing on equipment, leaning off-stage toward the barricade.

It was fun but Jesus, what is his deal?

Steve hadn’t even known who Corroded Coffin was 24 hours ago. Now he’s burned through two SD cards in an hour and a half. 

The guy’s hot and a good photo subject, sue him.

Well, he thinks he’s a good photo subject at least. He won’t know until he’s culled through every single shot. Steve’s a good photographer, took to it naturally the first time he picked up a camera. His downfall though, according to his college professors at least, was that he pays absolutely no attention to what he’s shooting while he’s shooting it. Hence the overshooting. 

On more than one occasion he’s gotten started on editing and someone is wearing an outfit he’s never seen before, someone’s got sunglasses on in every photo, a tag hanging off their jacket. All he’s concerned with is the framing, the lighting, and the focus. The content can be a problem for Future Steve. Everything can be fixed in post.

Almost.

Anyway, his feet hurt and he hates culling, so he pours himself a full glass of wine and plops down on the couch in front of an episode of trash tv with his laptop and props his feet up. Settles in for a long night.

2,461 images.

He throws his head back with a groan. Ugh. 

The first hundred or so are garbage.

They always are.

A few shots spent fucking with the exposure, a few the focus, some the flash.

He denotes the purple flag as his ‘good’ tag and orange as his ‘trash’ tag. The orange is stacking up fast. Around 163 he starts finding some good images. Ones that aren’t tainted by motion blur from his running around after this frontman. 

His photos of the drummer are pretty sick; he can't lie. The lights and the smoke and the near-manic smile on his face make for great photos. He’s not even this band’s personal photographer but he can imagine at least one of these will get posted to the band's socials. He’s good, what can he say?

He has a good bit of the bassist, his energy infectious enough you can almost feel it through the screen. Purple is making a comeback.

He finally gets through some crowd pics, some more drummer, some guitarist, some detail shots before he finally makes it to the frontman. 731 photos later. 

What did Wikipedia say his name was? Eddie, he thinks.

Weird, the very first shot Steve has of him he’s making fierce eye contact with the camera.

Ew.

No matter how long Steve does this, photos of people looking directly at the camera never get less jarring. 

Orange tag. Trash.

The next one is exactly the same.

Shit. 

He’s really bad to fall victim to the high speed shutter on this camera and often finds himself with a dozen copies of the same picture. Looks like he’s done it again.

Orange.

More piercing eye contact.

What? He squints and flips back and forth between the last two photos.

They’re not even remotely similar. As a matter of fact, Steve was in a completely different location in the pit for the second one. 

Green tag. Come back to this.

Taking a long swig from his glass he shifts so his laptop is closer to his face. Thinks that surely he’s not seeing this right. 

He takes to forgoing his tagging system and just flipping through every photo as fast as his fingers can press the arrow keys.

He’s clicked through about 200 when he starts getting worried, his heart rate speeding up. Surely he got something usable.

“What the fuck?”

He’s clicked through 50 or 60 more when he decides that, no he did not fall victim to the shutter speed at all. This guy is just making direct eye contact with his camera in every single photo.

Steve’s not mad, the opposite really. He didn’t spend much time looking at the guy during the show and now he gets to have an eyeful while he works. What’s there to be mad about? 

He is, however, mildly concerned that he won’t have a single decent photo to use for the venue socials when he posts about this show.

Whatever. Maybe fans of their music are also fans of uncomfortable eye contact. Who knows?

He finishes sifting through the rest of the photos, Eddie staring directly down the lens in every one, one’s where he’s not the subject included. Throws them all in an editing software and mass edits them all at once. He’ll detail edit later.

While the eye contact was a little unsettling, he did get one photo he’s particularly happy with. One that makes it look like the staring was on purpose.

It’s during the second to last song, a ballad– or as close as you can get with a metal band. Eddie’s standing center-stage and Steve had snagged the spot directly in front of him. He’s looking straight down, backlit with red spotlights, surrounded by smoke pumping from side-stage, and just close enough that Steve can see the sweat dripping down his neck. He looks a little bit scary, but that’s how Steve likes ‘em. 

That’ll be the cover photo for sure.

He shoots an album link to his boss to review before he distributes them anywhere, then spends  the next twenty minutes laughing to himself while he collects the goofiest photos of Eddie staring straight at his lens.

He puts them in a new album and copies the link.

When he opens up Instagram and searches Corroded Coffin he lets out a low whistle at the six million followers. Maybe he really should know who these guys are. With that many followers he doubts they’ll even see a message from his personal account, but whatever. He clicks on the message button on their profile and hits paste.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Great show tonight! Somebody tell this guy that he is allowed to look away from the camera though…

He only waits a few minutes for the reply.

@ corrodedcoffin HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ corrodedcoffin Wait hang on

His phone pings with a message from a new account.

@ whoiseddiemunson HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ whoiseddiemunson Sweetheart I wasn’t looking at the camera

Steve furrows his brows, confused. Starts typing a response but gets interrupted by another message.

@ whoiseddiemunson I was looking at the smoking hot guy behind it. Kinda hard to get a good look when he’s hiding behind the camera though.

Steve feels his cheeks flush and huffs a laugh to himself.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Well the guy behind the camera did manage to get a few good ones even though he was under surveillance the whole show. Wanna see those?

@ whoiseddiemunson Hell yeah I do. I just scrolled through your profile, your work is amazing. Do you want to show me the rest? Maybe over coffee tomorrow?

Steve smiles. His earlier heart palpitations replaced with butterflies.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Is this a date?

@ whoiseddiemunson It better be

[dimeadozencows]

My best explanation of our newest resident freak; Ramb.

Character analysis, loose ends, and questions.

I hope you like long winded “under the cut�� posts about the obscure lore of irrelevant side characters.

(don't worry, I'm adhd, there's pictures and gifs.)

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This is both an outlet for me to yell my thoughts and emotions about a fictional British power strip into the void, and an explanation on what the fuck happened to me for the people who followed me for gaster (sorry to those people, btw :’))

This will be divided into sections so that if you're specifically interested in one topic about him, then you could just skip to it! :]

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The sections are:

First impressions; sword-route first timers VS casual players

Character analysis

The matter of ERAM.

Red flags (the red stands for “is this the secret boss?”)

Red flags 2 (the red stands for “is he okay”)

He's just a red herring, right? (well…)

What he is in this story, and will he be more? (Conclusion)

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Let's get cracking.

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First impressions; sword route first timers VS casual players.

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This section will go over what you'd see from him on a standard run, and won't go too into analysis. It's mainly here if you aren't very familiar with his appearances in the game or need a refresher! 

Feel free to skip to Character Analysis if you think this section will be redundant for you :]

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(I really wanted to have this section be a part of the full post, but it's. Almost half of the entire thing. Also it ate up the 30 images limit.)

(So here, I posted it separately! Have a read through it if you wanna! <3)

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Character analysis:

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So… we sure do learn a lot about this random guy, huh?

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First off, you’ve probably noticed that he’s very contradictory; 

He’s caring and kind towards Kris, but he fully believes his intuition about them, and never thinks he might be wrong and should hear them out (although, with how much he’s shown to care about them, I'm sure that if Kris could and would speak out, he’ll listen to them. But they can’t, because of us)

He's extremely confident, overly self assured, to the point of getting perceived as egotistical by the other darkners, but he doesn't think of himself that highly, equating himself to his light world counterpart many times as if he isn't a person now, and being fully willing to give his life up for kris.

He’s said to be condescending to others, at least at first, but we’ve only seen kindness and care from him, probably because we’re talking to him as Kris. But his jokes and down to earth attitude seem integral to his character, and we know he didn't do anything worse than just look out for Kris.

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These contraindications are a part of why he seems so shady to people, how can he be all these things at once? He has to be lying. 

But this is just being a complicated person, like everyone else. And if you'll continue reading you’ll see that these inconsistencies actually make a lot of sense :] i’ll try my best to go through everything! 

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(this segment is a bit all over the place since it’s the first one i wrote, but there's a summary at the end :])

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Let's start with how he confident he is about his beliefs;

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I saw someone say that he's acting in the way a parasocial fan would, and while I get where they're coming from what with him reiterating "I know what you really want" a lot- 

but it feels less like he's putting them on a pedestal and objectifying them (in fact, he's doing the complete opposite and objectifying himself) and more like he's that well meaning, distant older relative who adored you when you were younger, and hasn't yet caught up to the fact that you grew up. 

A person who used to know you, who knew the child you were, and their love for you from back then still blinds them to how you've changed.

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Mixed with his overconfidence, it makes sense that he’d believe that he knows Kris as well as they know themselves, while completely oblivious to his own blindness.

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But how can he be so self assured but still view himself as lowly?

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That's because we're playing as Kris! I doubt he’d talk about himself that way to anyone else. 

Kris, and how they made him feel important, is the source of his confidence. He was loved and wanted by them, and so he feels like he owes them everything. Even his own life.

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Another interpretation is that his loneliness (which we will get to) lowered his self worth outside of being Kris's toy, and he feels like that is the only thing that gives him value. 

So his personality isn't completely demolished, but he doesn't really invest much time or thought into himself as a person (evidenced by how he never talked about himself to the other darkners, only about Kris.)

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you'd think that a character with an inflated ego, like he’s said to have, would be self-absorbed and egotistical, but not him. He seems to diminish his presence when speaking with Kris, never going into detail about himself. 

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But with how off putting his behaviour is, it's really hard to believe he has our best interest at heart- he constantly remarks how he knows what kris “truly wants”, and he really wants us to play the creepy game in the console room-

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We’ll get to the nature behind the game in a future segment (the matter of Eram), but for now let's just assume he really does want us to have fun;

His off putting behavior stems from a lack of tact. He's stuck in the memories of the Dreemurr family’s past, and he’s sure that Kris remembers him fondly. And maybe they would’ve, but I doubt they want to think about anything from their past considering… everything. 

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Speaking of their past! We weren't there! We didn't see the playing and fun they had together, most of the time when we play Deltarune we don't even think about kris- we just play the game. 

To us Ramb is a stranger being overly familiar- to Ramb, he’s catching up with an old friend, and he has no idea how much they’ve changed.

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Also, he doesn't force you to play the game! He doesn't even bring it up in the green room until after round 2, and only if you tell him you aren't having fun with Tenna. There's no pressure on you to finish all the levels if you only started one, either. 

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(telling him that you are having enough fun with Tenna)

It's on our terms, and for our fun. He keeps going with it because we keep coming back. By his own admission, his purpose is to let us (Kris) have fun. 

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Additionally, we can't ignore the silly. He's implied to be a jokester! The classics you've come to expect from these games; like sans, jevil, and even spamton, a little guy who makes funny faces and tells jokes. 

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I also want to bring up his expressions; half of his sprites have that worrying, almost troubled expression, that gives the things he says a caring and gentle feeling. It's a part of the over-familiarity. From someone you know this would be fine, but he’s this way with us from the second we meet him.

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Now, let's bring up this bit of dialogue from before you start the second level of the mantle game:

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The first time I read this dialogue I was stun locked for a moment. He could've just admitted to feeling lonely. He could've just outright said it, it wouldn't feel out of place in this story, Tenna admitted to it multiple times even. But Ramb didn't.

Instead, he said that if after the fountain is sealed, then if Kris felt like waking up their house again then they could. If they wanted that to happen.

Fine, weird line from him, he's got plenty.

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"Sorry Kris. I don't know what I was saying there. Just go and enjoy the games, eh? cheers."

He felt embarrassed about admitting to feeling lonely! He always puts Kris first before anything else, and for a moment, he didn't. For a moment he mentioned that he'd like it if Kris came back after this was all over. That was weird, I'm sorry for saying that.

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From this we can learn that he really does feel alone. His one friend will be gone soon, and that's okay, they have to leave. But it’d be nice if they came back one day. not that he’s comfortable with admitting this to us. 

(This is also a hint that he knows Kris created the fountain!)

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His similarities to Tenna :

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Looking at the core of their characters, Ramb was written as almost another version of what Tenna is. They both care about Kris so much, they’re both lonely, ageing and growing obsolete and they know it. The differences are in how they take it. 

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Tenna is trying his best to cling to the past in fear of being thrown away, he's trying to prove to Kris that he's useful, fun, and could give them what they've been missing. This joyous nostalgic feeling they left in their childhood alongside everything that made them happy. 

Throughout this entire chapter Tenna is trying to drag Kris back to that, back to him. He forces it on them when they don't comply, and fights them when they want to leave. 

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and yes a part of that is because of the knight's promise, that if he’ll do this he’ll be adored again. But to ignore the part of his motivation that's specific to Kris and the Dreemurr family as a whole would be a disservice to his character. He cares about Kris and he misses them so much, he misses what he was to them back when they needed him. He wants them to need him again.

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Meanwhile Ramb is just as aware of his growing obsolescence as tenna is, but he seems to accept it. knowing that eventually, naturally, they’ll all be worthless. 

It's a part of his role as a secret boss red herring (which I will elaborate on in its own section), a darkner who mentions their own insignificance and nihilistically accepts it naturally makes us wonder what else they're thinking about and what they know.

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Ramb accepts his approaching end and decides to go out with a bang. He sets up another game like the ones they loved playing and gives them the option whether to actually play it or not.

Don't get me wrong, he absolutely clings to kris (or more like the memory of them as a child) just like Tenna does, but there's a difference in how they go about their emotions that sets them apart as characters, and makes it so understandable that they wouldn't be fond of each other.

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While Tenna is stuck in the past because his self worth is dependent on it, Ramb is stuck in the past because instead of trying to make new connections in the new place he was brought to, he clung to and still clings to the first and only person who showed him love.

Ramb is completely okay with becoming obsolete, while Tenna’s life spiraled because he couldn't handle it. Tenna is desperate and controlling (fits his position as this dark world’s ruler and also his deal with the knight), while Ramb only gives you one hint to get S-rank, and only if you tell him you think Tenna's games aren't fun.

Tenna is constantly second guessing himself and worrying over doing a good job, while ramb’s excessive confidence makes him 100% sure that he knows exactly what Kris wants, and that they’ll love the games he’s offering more than Tenna’s. 

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They originate from the “same root” in a sense, but due to their different personalities, they’re complete opposites in the way they handle knowing they’re no longer as meaningful to their loved ones as they used to be. 

Also, I'd feel remiss not to mention that Ramb quit his job while on a call with Tenna, then hung up on him. 

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We don't talk about this enough me thinks. He's such a piece of shit sometimes lmfao 

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I wish we got to see Ramb interacting with other people besides Kris, I think it would tell us a lot. Because he made so much of who he is about Kris, then of course his behavior would be one way with them, and different with others. How drastically it would change would say a lot about him as a person. 

We did get it with Tenna a little, but he generally doesn't like him for reasons that seem to be unrelated to kris

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In conclusion:

To us (Kris), Ramb is a friendly, self-assured (if a little bit arrogant) guy. 

He clearly cares about and loves Kris a lot, calling them luv at every opportunity and trying to better their experience in this dark world by giving them access to what he thinks is a better game than what they got. 

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The things he says to Kris and his worrying expression give him a caring and gentle air, which can have the opposite effect and come off as too forward and overstep boundaries for a lot of people.

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He's acting overly familiar with Kris, remembering them fondly from their time together as lightner and toy, and he’s sure that Kris is on the same page as him. 

And although we can't really know for sure, because Kris doesn't express their feelings or thoughts, we can assume that their bond fizzled out on Kris's end. because since the last time Ramb knew them, they’ve put everything that made them happy as a kid aside.

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He's extremely confident, believing himself to be the one who knows Kris the best out of anyone here, and he’s sure they’ll love the original game from before Tenna messed with it a lot more than what they got in his game show.

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Even though he’s very confident, and it's viewed as him having an ego by his peers, he's not egotistical. as his confidence stems from being loved by Kris, and believing himself to know them the best, not thinking that he’s the best, as would be assumed of a character with an “ego”.

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Additionally, despite his obvious confidence, he seems to have relatively low-self worth outside of being Kris's toy, equating himself to his lightworld form often and never elaborating on himself as the person he is now, to us or the other darkners.

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As time goes on we learn that he's deeply lonely, doesn’t have any friends or anyone that really likes him, and it has been that way for a while. Pretty much since he was brought to the dreemurr house.

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Despite how lonely he is, and how much of his life revolves around Kris, he never imposes himself on them. There’s no point in the game where we have to speak with him.

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We don't know much about his side in his relationships, but he specifically doesn't really care for his boss Tenna, and thinks he and his games are boring. 

Maybe he never really wanted the job that was given to him to get rid of him, since he’s the first one to actively tell Tenna that he’s quitting. He then proceeds to hang up in his face. 

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Despite knowing that Kris is the creator of his fountain, he doesn't worship them or objectify them as a god, nor does he treat Kris the way darkners created by the knight treat the knight, their creator, with fear and admiration. 

He acts more like one of your detached older family members who don't yet understand that you grew up. (His self diminishing seems to stem from low self worth and not worship.)

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Additionally, Ramb seems to not really care about respecting authority, a trait that is rare for darkners. 

like how he treats Kris like family and not authority, And how he gives us access to the original game against Tenna’s wishes. Although it's important to mention that he thinks of himself as lesser than Kris.

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He's fully willing to sacrifice himself for us, to give himself up completely, if there is a chance that his efforts will work and Kris will have fun. 

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The matter of ERAM.

And why they're not actually the same person (hear me out it makes ramb a better character.)

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I get why people are fond of it. Ramb being the person behind eram would be awesome and a cool twist for his character and add to his significance in the story. 

And by all means! Go for it! It makes for an awesome visual and cool art!!

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But hear me out… when it comes to the intent of the story… narratively, it doesn't make any sense. 

Sometimes kindness and seemingly well meaning actions in this game really are just that.

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Now before we begin, let's establish some things;

First of all; without anyone asking him to, Ramb has sacrificed a lot for Kris. 

He gave up the opportunity to make any connections in the new place he was brought to, by always commenting on others and their work. This made him alienated from anyone he could've been friends with, because he staked everything he is and could’ve had on his purpose to his lightner.

In the path where you don't humor him, you end up learning how lonely he truly was, how no one could stand him, and how much his caring for and loving you alienated him, to the point of complete social isolation. To the point where he felt like he didn't belong where he was, and was already turning to stone on the inside a long time ago.

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His ostracization was mostly his doing, and it is rooted in caring.

(If there was any other reason that Ramb was outcasted, then the pippins who clearly disliked him wouldn't protect his image and would tell us.)

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And secondly; The mantle game changes with the insertion of the oddcontroller.

When you first turn on the console, the title screen comes up just like it does at the beginning of “The legend of Tenna”, Tenna’s version of the game. But no controller is connected and the console turns off. Leaving the room, we find the oddcontroller on the ground, it is said to have pink and yellow buttons. 

When the oddcontroller is connected to the console, The game immediately glitches out and shows our soul, us, inside 8bit kris. That never happens in any other variation of the game. 

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Everytime you play the game again, the title screen comes up like normal. Kris then connects the oddcontroller, the game glitches out, and shows us the soul. It seems that the thing causing the difference is the act of connecting the controller. 

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Here are the main reasons i've seen for why people think Eram is Ramb:

Ramb is very off putting

They have similar names

Ramb really wants us to play his game, and it turns out to be a horrifying experience for kris

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Let's tackle em’!

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Ramb is very off putting.

That's by design! He’s supposed to evoke that feeling you get from distant family relatives who remember you from when you were younger, but you have no memory of them. 

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Kris has been through a lot, we still don't know the exact events, but trauma is obvious and prevalent in their character. They've since put a lot of their joy aside. Their room is empty, they don't watch tv or play games anymore, they don't visit noelle, even just to play her piano, preferring the one in the hospital.

And Ramb is an old toy of Kris', from when they were a child. It wouldn't be unlikely that the last time they played with him was before they put their joys aside. 

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Ramb would have no way of knowing everything that's gone on with Kris since they last saw each other, and he’d assume that their life’s just naturally continued without him, but remain sure that they still remember him fondly.

He views himself as your old friend, because that's what Kris and him were before, he doesn't know who Kris is anymore, and he has no idea. 

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And on top of that, YOU as the player weren't there for it all- you didn't see Kris playing with Ramb, and you didn't see Ramb being happy to assist Kris in having fun. To you, Ramb is a stranger, and him acting overly familiar with you causes discomfort and unease.

And Ramb is only speaking with Kris, because he has no idea you're there controlling them.

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They have similar names

That they do, Eram and Ramb are only one letter apart. But does Ralsei having a name that's a 1 to 1 of Asriels, and even seemingly having similar personalities make them the same person? No, and I hope to god you don't still believe that. Please believe me when i say that Toby wouldn't put incest in his game.

Eram and Ramb are opposites. Ramb only wants Kris to have fun, while Eram is obsessed with making Kris suffer. Ramb wants us to play a game where we get to make choices, and Eram forces us to play the one route the oddcontroller allows for.

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(Also, stupidly, Eram isn't british)

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3. Ramb really wants us to play his game, and it turns out to be a horrifying experience for kris

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It's a little weird that Ramb tells us that this is a game where we decide what to do, but the only way to progress is through killing. Which is part of why people think he’s very sketchy and a liar.

But what if the original game, before the insertion of the oddcontroller, was exactly that? A game similar to undertale, where there are different paths you can take, where your choices determine the kind of game you play? A game where you CAN make choices? 

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But with the oddcontroller, there’s only one path. only one option, a glitchy, game breaking option, the weird route. 

I'd also like to bring up the name “odd controller”, in relation to what we do in the game and what that stands for- Odd is another word for weird.

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But sure, maybe Ramb was the one who put the odd controller in the hallway outside the console room, he is standing right outside the door after all. But if it's true that Ramb’s intention was for us to play the game with this controller, why not give it to us when we enter the room? We have to speak with him to enter anyway. 

And why say that he “set up the game for us” if there's no controller connected? Just to wait a few seconds to leave it in the hallway? 

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This is a story, fully written in advance. If the intention was for us to suspect or think this corrupt version of the game is what Ramb intended for us to play, why not have the oddcontroller already connected to the console? Then we as players would have no doubt that this experience was this character’s full intention.

That part, where you have to leave the room to find a controller that is different from the ones you're used to, seems to be there to separate Ramb from whoever wants us to play the mantle game’s version of the weird route.

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But hold on, what if Ramb is intentionally putting on a front, acting and lying to make us believe his two personas?

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…why? What would he gain from that? He already gets us curious enough to play the game as Ramb, why continue to put up a front even when he and Kris are completely alone, even at the very last moments of his life? 

Speaking of which, how is he able to battle Kris as Eram when he’s shown to be almost fully stone, and unable to move himself enough to unblock the entry? To turn and look at us? How would he use a controller? 

If he’s faking being stone too, then how? And what’s the reason? What does he gain? 

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Also, if we are assuming he’s lying; then everything, his feelings, his character and his emotional issues, None of it was real. All that nuance, depth, character, It was all fake, a lie. For the plot twist that in fact he actually… thinks we're weird for enjoying the game? 

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Narratively, it doesn't make sense. If he’s lying, why not reveal it? In his last moments with us, as Eram or Ramb, why not reveal that this entire time he just wanted us to suffer? 

If he’s lying, then why are we repeatedly told, so many times, how lonely he was? How much he cared about Kris? Why is it said to us after he’s already gone, on the path where you don't even play his game, when the lie wouldn't matter? 

The story doesn't benefit from the unclarity that this brings once Ramb and Eram are both already gone.

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I know that the main reason behind this theory is Ramb’s off-putting over familiarity, combined with the horrors the game harbours and how happy he is to show it to us. 

But if you take his word that he really didn't see anyone come in (maybe whoever is behind Eram doesn't need to use the door), and look at the context of his life as this lonely guy suddenly seeing the god who gave him purpose as their toy, and brought him to life with the fountain, and understand that yeah, he’d be ecstatic. 

Then him honestly looking out for Kris at every opportunity, even before he saw them again, makes a lot more sense than an unprovoked backstab.

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Eram has no issue with harming the real kris, both physically and emotionally. Before the fight begins, Eram taunts Kris, goes along with the game that's slowly changing from a standard rpg to a horror show about Kris's life and struggles. 

If the player is on the weird route, they even accuse Kris of being a hypocrite, saying they’re blaming the soul for all the harm they caused, trying to feel better about themselves. And in the fight against them Kris takes real damage and can die. 

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If Ramb were actually the one behind eram, then he was lying when he was looking out for what's best for Kris even when they weren't there… because? He alienated himself by constantly lying about caring for Kris… because??... and him letting himself die for us to continue having the fun he’s sure we're having… just to make fun of us- why??

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Remember that pippins who tells us all about how much ramb sucked and everyone hated him- If there was malice in Ramb’s intentions or behind his actions before we entered the dark world, that pippins would be the last person to hide it from us! Y’know, cus they hate him!!

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Ramb’s story is empty on purpose, it's supposed to be like this. It's supposed to give you the feeling of “this isn't all he is, right?” It's abnormally sad and I wish I could say that this is just me going overboard with my analysis of him, but this is literally just his actions and what we were told about him.

Ramb was written as the red herring for this chapter's secret boss, to me the twist about him was that after all of that he ended up to not be important, that after all of the hints and the winks, it turns out he doesn't know shit. 

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Making him the person behind a character that clearly knows a lot and doesn't much care for Kris's well-being, erasing and warping the sincerity of everything he did, would take away from the gut punch that his last conversation with Kris or the explanation from that Pippins is trying to give us.

 It would make for a hell of a twist, but is it worth it narratively? Does it make sense? Like no not at all. We're learning about this sad older guy trying to make the one person he’s sure still likes him happy no matter the cost, even if it costs him his life.

Just for a twist that he thinks they're weird for enjoying the games that he wanted them to play??

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So if Ramb isn't eram, who is? 

I don't know, this post is about Ramb!! 

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But I do have a guess that I'm rather confident about. I won't go into detail about it here cus i already derail this post at every opportunity, and also I want to write another dissertation of the mantle games specifically, separate from Ramb, so I'll save this for another time. 

But in short, it’s Friend. And this was our first real look at them as a character and their role and purpose in this story.

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Red flags (the red stands for “is this the secret boss?”)

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I'm sure that a large majority of first time players looked at this manlet going on and on about “freedom”, and immediately thought that he’ll be the secret boss. Since, y’know, that was by design!

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Ramb was written to tick all the boxes of a secret boss. he’s short, hinted at being knowledgeable about things he shouldn't be, “freedom”, constantly referring to kris by name, quoting both Jevil and Spamton, playing a role only outside the main story, hell even the fact that he speaks differently than the rest of the darkners- 

We're meant to look at him and immediately assume that at some point we’ll fight him and get the shadow crystal. Just like we assumed we’ll seal the fountain at the end of the chapter, and get a light world segment before going back home, watch Kris rip out their soul, and roll credits.

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Chapter 3 throws all of that out the window! And Ramb is a part of it. We assumed we know the way secret bosses work and will play out for the rest of the game, a part of the “Deltarune formula” that we were so convinced of. But we were wrong!

The way chapter 3 flirts with it and then completely shatters it and our expectations of what will be is a part of why i love these games so much. 

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When a player stumbles upon a petrified Ramb, the thought that they messed up the sequence that leads up to the secret boss might cross their mind. While a player who got to the end of the sword game and watched as Ramb disappeared after the shadow mantle was acquired might feel confused; 

yeah i just finished a cool mini boss, but that's hardly a secret boss, and i didn't even get a shadow crystal. wasn't that the lead up to something with the little guy?

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And when the lord of screens is cleaved red by blade is when it all shatters- we’d assume that after the fight with Tenna, Ralsei and Susie will talk to him, he’ll want to come to our castle town, we seal the fountain, ect ect. But instead, he falls to the ground, unconscious, and we are faced with the knight. 

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We don't get to seal the fountain, we don't get a light world segment, and we don't get to see Kris rip us out. We don't get a secret boss. Deltarune was never meant to be predicted!

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Ramb, as the character that he is, is a part of the aforementioned flirting with the concept of a formula. Cus we do get a weird little guy who's spouting nonsense and acting odd- but he's not the secret boss, because we don't get one this chapter.

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(you might say that the knight is the secret boss… but aren't those supposed to be like… secret? The battle with the knight is unavoidable, and CAN be beaten without the shadow mantle if you just don't get hit- so… it's just a regular battle like Tenna or Queen. Just an extremely tough one that you're meant to die to at the end. 

If you survive for long enough you get a weapon and a crystal, but guys- 

The fight isn’t hidden. It's unavoidable. It can be beaten even without the shadow mantle. The flavor text “The air crackles with freedom” doesn’t show up in the fight. The knight doesn't have the freedom leitmotif in its theme.

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Before the chapter came out I was lamenting on what “no mantle, no crystal.” means. I thought that we’d acquire the shadow mantle somehow and only then will the battle be able to trigger, like without it there wouldn't even be a fight! (Like how you can’t climb without the gear that jackenstein gives you.)

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I'm of the opinion that we shouldn't expect all the chapters to play out exactly the way we thought, not having a standard secret boss encounter this chapter was intentional, and there's no real reason to try and fit the knight or Eram into boxes they don't fit- 

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So… what all this talk about Ramb as if he actually was the secret boss? If he truly is just a red herring gotcha moment side character npc, why the 16K words essay?

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As much as I want to keep my expectations grounded, there are certain things that don't fit the description of just “red herring”. I truly wish he was just that, and could be spared from the horrors of being a shadow crystal bearer, or being a significant character in this story (that never seems to be easy), and I could be spared from writing the rest of this. 

But there are just too many loose ends, questions, information we were given for seemingly no reason- that make me wonder what Toby has in mind. 

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Red flags 2 (the red stands for “is he okay”)

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This section will go through and analyse the more emotional aspects of his character and what he is in this story. Less “why was he put here” and more “how does he feel about being put here”. The feels, if you will.

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Let’s start by bringing up the infamous roast session;

While we do learn a lot about Ramb when talking directly to him, we learn a whole lot more after he’s gone, from the random pippins that seems to stand in for the rest of the darkners that knew him.

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First of all, just the fact that we learn more about ramb from someone else rather than himself says a lot. I already mentioned it in the character analysis part, but he seems to never really focus on himself during our conversations with him, and would much rather talk about Kris and what they want and how they feel, in a way that is reminiscent of ralsei. 

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One of the differences between them being that while ralsei is truly trying his best to look for kris through our inputs on their behavior, building them up and cheering us both on, 

ramb, thanks to how confident he is, thinks he knows exactly what kris wants without second guessing himself for a second (until the very end) 

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(he was somehow right? Which adds to how he was made to make people think he’ll be the secret boss because he knew Kris wanted “freedom”. but this is just his lucky assumption, and has to do with what games Tenna is allowing Kris to play, not how Kris wants to be free from our control. Ramb had no idea.)

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(not to even get into how the mantle games vs Tenna’s version of them are a meta commentary on Deltarune’s linear story and how breaking out of if and achieving “freedom” comes at a great cost for the characters, that is a WHOLE other conversation and we’re talking about power strip mental health right now not this-) 

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Just for a second, I wanna bring up the fact that he's a plugboy. While yes the plugboys from chapter 2 do differ from each other visually, they’re all clearly the same darkner species, and they all resemble plug types that would be of the same, mostly american socket type.

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While Ramb is a European plug type. He’s fundamentally different. (Note how different Ramb looks to the other plugboys, and his smiling expression vs the original plugboys naturally ‘surprised’ look)

It's impossible to connect an American plug to this type of socket. What I'm trying to say is; he couldn’t connect with anyone.

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Back when I played chapter 3 for the first time and learned Ramb was from the library, I thought it was really weird. What, he was essentially kidnapped and no one in chapter 2 said anything? 

No one mentioned a plug named “ramb”, not even talked about a purple plugboy who used to live here. Not even “a plugboy” who’s now gone. I shrugged it off as extremely light retconning, maybe he was written after chapter 2 was completed.

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But when I think about it now, it makes total sense. The reason he didn't seem to mind being taken from his original dark world, his home, the reason he adores Kris so much, and why no one in cyber world mentioned him or said anything about him being gone;

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it's because he didn't matter to anyone back there either. The first time he felt loved and wanted was as Kris's toy. 

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Of course he'd get attached to them, I'm honestly surprised he isn't constantly imposing himself on us- there isn't a single point in the game where you have to talk to him, if you never choose to do that, you don't even learn his name.

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Similarly to Tenna, Ramb clung to the past, to that time in his life he felt happy and loved. He couldn't (or wouldn't) move on. 

No one in Cyber world liked him, no one in the dreemurr house liked him, so he gave up. He no longer tried to make connections with new people. Instead of retaining who he is and living for himself, even if no one likes it, he let himself get stuck in the memories of being loved, once, a long time ago.

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Inside, he was probably stone already.

Back to the infamous roast session, specifically to the last thing that was said about him there;

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“Inside, he was probably stone already.” 

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Have you ever seen a more obvious depression metaphor? 

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In chapter 3, a darkner turning to stone was revealed to be connected to a mental and emotional state, and not just where the object is originally from, which to be honest, in retrospect makes a lot more sense. 

(What if an object was somewhere it didn't belong when a fountain was created, then brought back to the place they belong, would they turn to stone just because they happen to be somewhere else first? Also turning to stone being more about feelings just fits these games doesn't it. anyway)

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One of the very first things that we learn about Ramb, straight from him, is how Kris and Asriel brought him to their house from the library, maybe around the time Noelle and Kris played make believe with other objects from there and the unused classroom. 

But that's all we learn from him about why he's here and how he feels about it. Which is to say we learn nothing because he never elaborates about himself-

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Then, after he’s turned to stone, we learn from the pippins that after Ramb was brought here by kris, he cared about them so much that he made sure the others are thinking about them and what's best for them too, because to him their plans weren’t good enough for kris. He wanted the very best for them. 

His fixation on Kris and his condescending attitude that was perceived as ego isolated him as he turned insufferable in their eyes. 

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Tenna wanted to get rid of him, no one liked his humor, he rarely got any customers, and no one will even care that he’s gone. Other newcomers in the house fit in fine, while he never truly belonged. The pippins is relieved if you tell them that you don't wanna hear more about him.

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Turning to stone on the inside. Being stone as you still continue to live. A darkner turns to stone when they feel like they don't belong, when even if they try their hardest to fit in, they don't have a place that’s for them where they are. When their connections can't save them and they want to be somewhere else, someone else.

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Ramb felt like he didn't belong here so badly that the feeling manifested, turning him to stone from the moment the fountain opened, maybe even before. 

It's depression. Moreover, it's like smiling depression- he never lets us see any of it, he smiles and is friendly with us, there's no reason to think anything is wrong until you learn more about his situation. 

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Kinda reminds you of someone, right?

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“How about the usual?”

That joke should be familiar to true truck freaks;

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“i’ll take the usual.”

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It's the same joke Sans made when he first came to Grillby’s. The differences being that while sans told it as a first time customer, Ramb told it as a first time bartender. And of course, people laughed at Sans's joke, and immediately accepted him as the old timer he joked about being, while no one laughed with Ramb.

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The similarities between sans and Ramb are kinda like when you learn a new word and start seeing it everywhere;

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They're both shorties 

They both mask their depression with humor and an unassuming, modest attitude

They both constantly smile

They both wink a lot

Both are in worlds they don't belong in

Both never go into detail about themselves

Both refer to the player character as a friend immediately

Both seem to build up all they are around someone else (Sans with Papyrus and Ramb with Kris)

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It's not that this implies they know each other or anything- the only thing these similarities tell me is that we’re given more about Ramb's personality and ‘vibe’ through a character he’s similar to and we're already familiar with.

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Like, what if sans didn't have papyrus constantly at his side? What if no one liked his jokes? What if he couldn't make friends? What if he didn't have the ability to control where he went? What if he felt truly, deeply, alone? 

While their personalities and circumstances are obviously not identical, I think these similarities are very interesting. 

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(Just for the sake of not mischaracterizing sans, we're in 2025 not 2016, I wanna clarify that I'm aware a big part of sans' pain stems from his inability to go anywhere outside Undertale as a universe (wherever or whatever “going back” means), but I was thinking more like. What if he was just stuck inside MTT resort, y’know?)

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Implications that he doesn’t value himself as a person

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If you were suddenly face to face with the one person who ever liked you, after years of being apart, if under their gaze, you felt more appreciated as a person than you have in all the years since you've last seen them, what would you do?

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I'd hope to god your answer isn't anything close to what Ramb did.

Because this guy gave up on so much of his life for Kris, even before he saw them again, until he gave up his life for them completely.

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In his last moments with us, he continues to try and make sure Kris has fun. 

Knowing he will soon turn to stone, as far he knows, forever, He still continues to try and please Kris. 

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He’ll watch out for Kris for as long as he's conscious enough to see and speak.

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He sees his own uncooperative body not as a detriment to himself, but a bother for Kris, who now has to shove him out of the way, because he started to die before he could unblock the entry to the room.

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Instead of doing anything for himself before he fully turns to stone, he chooses to set up one last game for us. His smile never falters and he wishes us a fun time.

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I mentioned this before, but this part of his behavior is very reminiscent of Ralsei. 

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Ralsei’s beliefs about himself and how much of a person he should be allowed to be finally started to get challenged in chapters 3 & 4, to the relief of everyone who knew he wasn't evil. 

But before those beliefs started to get questioned by the game, he constantly allowed himself to be walked over, hurt, and ignored by everyone.

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The way he behaved was incredibly off putting, making a large portion of the community think he’s secretly the villain and will have a heel turn in the story where he backstabs us all- but it turns out he hid information from us because he views the knowledge he has as a burden. He doesn't want us to know what he knows because he cares about us. 

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He’s okay with getting hurt, he’s okay with taking pain meant for us, protecting us from harm's way, because he doesn't yet view himself as a person worth protecting. He doesn't even view himself as a person.

When we learned this, suddenly all the oddities about him and the way he acted made sense. No one still believes he’s secretly evil.

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Ramb is similar in a way. He views himself as a darkner, an object, first, and a person second. He exists for his lightner, the kid who gave him purpose as a toy, an item of play and fun. 

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He’s aware that in reality, he's just a power strip. and because he knows that while the lightners change, darkners don't, he understands that Kris views him as obsolete. He doesn't see himself as someone (something) worth saving. 

His purpose, a darkners purpose, is to assist his lightner. His self proclaimed purpose is to let Kris have the fun they want. What he wants is irrelevant, he shouldn't even have needs or wants in the first place, there's no reason for it. 

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It's okay if he’s dying. It's okay if he’s already stone on the inside. He keeps setting up the levels in the console room because we keep coming back to play, because we’re having fun. Whatever Ramb wants doesn't matter as much as Kris's fun does.

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While Ralsei thankfully has Susie and Kris by his side to constantly remind him that he matters, until the day he’ll hopefully fully believe it himself, Ramb is completely alone. He doesn't have anyone who cares about him, likes him, or would cry for him once he’s gone.

He hasn't yet realized, or maybe he’s never been told that he matters outside of his “role” as a darkner. And maybe he never will.

—--------

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No one will shed a tear for him

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This part may be a bit more speculative of me and not really something that's out right said, but it's important for me to mention

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Before you finish the mantle game and Ramb disappears, if you hug the hall in front of where he guarded the door, you walk through a hidden hallway and enter his stand.

You can watch Susie and Ralsei play the game they were talking about, but you're unable to interact with them. Just watch as they’re having fun without you.

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It's an adorable Susie and Ralsei moment that I'm glad we got, look at them go! It's nice to actually see the characters doing the things they say they do. But i think that maybe we got the option to walk here for another reason

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This is Ramb’s point of view. His name is above where you stand. This is how he experiences the world. He's in the background, in the darkest area of the green room, looking at all the folks coming and going, laughing, smiling, bonding, while he’s unable to join. 

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Fully his own decision by the way, you can leave this room and go back to your adventures with your friends, he can leave his stand too. 

Not that anyone is waiting for him to, though. So what's the point?

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Loneliness is overwhelming. It's an all encompassing feeling that paints everything and everyone you see, and once it's got its talons in you, it begins to feel impossible to overcome. 

Even at times where you could fight it and win, if it sunk in already, it may just feel pointless, and you chose to lose a winnable battle.

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I doubt that in the entirety of Kris's house, there isn't a single darkner who would, at the very least, tolerate him. At best, genuinely like him and enjoy being his friend. But ramb knew loneliness in Cyber world, and its familiar sting found him in the Dreemurr house. Why try again? 

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it's not like he needs it from the other darkners anyway, right? After all, he has someone who likes him. His lightner likes him, and that's more than enough. 

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It's okay if they've not seen each other in years. It's okay if they never will again after the fountain is sealed. He has fulfilled his purpose in making sure they're happy. 

That's more than enough. Nothing matters more than their happiness, not even him.

—-----

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So let's walk through what we can assume his life was like;

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He arrived at the library, as the only European plug there. Maybe he was accidentally purchased by someone who didn't notice that he had a socket type that they couldn't use with the rest of the plugs there.

He couldn't bond with any object in the library because he wasn't compatible with them, maybe they just didn't get along or the conversations didn't flow. No one there really cared about him, and he remained alone.

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Then, one day, a monster and a human decided to take him and bring him home with them. 

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The human treated him like any one of their toys, and they played with him. He assisted them in having fun. He felt wanted, appreciated, useful, this was the first time in his life that he felt loved. He finally had a purpose.

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The other objects in this house just didn't get it, did they? this wonderful human was kind enough to give himself and all of them a home, they should be everyone's priority! 

He tried to get them to focus their efforts on making the human happy, but nothing they ever did was good enough for them, he felt like he was the only one that really knew them, the only one who cared.

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The other objects started to get sick of him. and while they adjusted to their new life here just fine, finding friends and things to do, a place for themselves, he didn't. Again, he couldn't make a single friend.

He stuck to his beliefs, never questioning himself; if caring for my lightner is what got me to this point, then I don't regret it for a second. The one person who ever loved him deserves the best the world has to offer. He did not flinch when, from within, slowly, he began to turn to stone.

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The human grew up, and stopped playing with toys. Ramb continued his life as it was before, always thinking of his lightner, wondering how they're doing. 

Until, one day, he saw them opening a dark fountain.

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His lightner is back! What joy! The one person who ever loved him, the one who gave him purpose, is right here! 

He wondered why they opened a fountain right now, maybe it was fun that they were missing? And with the mind-numbing games his boss is making them play they're not getting any fun anytime soon.

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So he decided to fulfill his purpose. He set up the game that Tenna changed into that snooze-fest. The original version. The kind of game where you get choices. The story isn't linear, you can fight your way to the ending, or make friends that carry you through it. 

(not that he knew of the controller he set up disappearing, and a corrupted one being left in the hallway by someone else)

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But if they choose not to play the game, that’s fine too. If they actually are having enough fun on Tenna’s game show, then that's fine. He won't force them to play his game, his purpose is to make sure Kris is having fun, not to be the fun they have. 

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But if they do want to play his game? He’ll make sure they can until his very last moment. As he’s fully turning to stone, he doesn't care. His personhood doesn't matter, it never did. The only thing of value he has ever done was assist his lightner in their fun, way back when.

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He just wants them to have the fun they deserve, again.

—--------

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That's who he is in the story of chapter 3. A lonely darkner stuck in the past, who gives himself up for you to be able to have the fun you used to have, the fun you had back when he was useful, unwilling to move on from when he was loved by you. 

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In a more meta sense though, he was also the perfect secret boss red herring;

A lonely, abandoned toy, with unexplored thoughts and feelings about his worth as a toy and what he means in the grand scheme of things. Seeing him in this chapter was supposed to make us believe, because of past experiences with these types of guys in this game, that he’ll be the secret boss. 

But he wasn't, that’s a part of his character of being forgotten, and it's intentional.

--------------

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Okay, so he's not the secret boss, he's not Eram, and he was written to just be a red herring. 

That's all he is in this story. 

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Right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's just a red herring, right? (well…)

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Then:

Why did we need to know so much about him?

Why isn't he in castle town?

Why doesn't he fully turn to stone?

Why was it important that we know he saw Kris make the fountain?

Why was it important to imply that something happened to him after the sword route?

…Why doesn't the knight make the air crackle with freedom?

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----------

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Why did we need to know so much about him?

Beyond being a red herring, we learn so much about him as a character that doesn't go anywhere. Like his story was supposed to be something but got cut short. 

Imagine if after Spamton gave you all this weird information in his shop, he turned to stone and THEN all the Addisons would show up and talk about him. It feels empty, like something was meant to be there, alongside all the information. some big break or moment that would give the character we slowly learned about over the course of the chapter closure.

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If he truly isn't and wasn't meant to be anything significant, then why are we given so much information on him? Why are we being made to wonder about him? Why are we being made to care? 

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Even in runs where you don't play the mantle games, and all Ramb was to you was the funny little guy giving you prizes in the green room, you end up getting so much information about him out of nowhere. I know first time players that were genuinely weirded out by it- why is it there by a point where his importance really wouldn't matter to you??

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But that could be a part of him being a red herring, we're learning about him as a character and thinking “oh this guy is absolutely the secret boss”, then the twist is that he isn't. 

And that's true! That seems to be the idea Ramb was created for. But I wouldn't write all this if there wasn't more 

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Why isn't he in castle town?

We didn't get too many unique characters in chapter 3; Tenna, Lanino, Elnina, Shuttah, and Ramb are really the only significant ones, they all even show up at the beginning of the chapter before the first board.

Ramb is one of the 5 unique characters we got in chapter 3, they're all in castle town, except him, no matter if we do the sword games or not. there was no reason not to put him there and give him like 2 lines of unremarkable dialogue.

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Spamton was a unique character in chapter 2, but he doesn't show up in castle town either, even if we don't fight him as spamton neo. 

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“certain bosses are excluded.” as if Ramb was meant to be something he ended up not being.

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Why doesn't he fully turn to stone?

(original image by @/unikhroma)

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If it was just 1 pixel I wouldn't mention it, if it was two I'd be surprised that the flood fill tool the deltarune team is using is so uncooperative. If it was three I'd raise an eyebrow but not proclaim anything. 

It's four. It's four uncolored, obvious pixels on his petrified sprite??? One of them is a part of his mouth and very visible???? 

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Not to mention how his eyes are still black like they were before- when lancer turns to stone, the big spade on his face that acts as an expressive mask of sorts turns gray like the rest of him, making him look much more like a statue. 

But ramb looks awake, just frozen and grayscale. (I find it interesting that in his half stone sprite his left eye is obscured in shadow, would it be black or gray?)

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And why is it that when we interact with him behind his stand, instead of getting “Some kind of stone statue”, we get blocked by the pippins, as if when we’d interact with it we wouldn't get that description? 

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Why was there a need to imply he's still conscious? Why did we need to wonder if he heard everything that was said about him?

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Why was it important that we know he saw Kris make the fountain?

While it is very possible that other characters are aware that Kris made the fountain- even Tenna, who's the ruler of this dark world, doesn't outright call Kris their creator. 

For some reason, this little british guy, supporting cast member no.5, is the only darkner as of yet, in the entire first half of the game, to knowingly speak with their creator on screen, and outright say they saw them make the fountain. 

Why him? Why now? Why no one else?

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Why was it important to imply that something happened to him after the sword route?

When we exit the console room after getting the shadow mantle, Ramb is gone. He could've been outside as he was before, just fully turned to stone and giving the same prompt of “Some kind of stone statue”. But sure, maybe he's gone for tonal reasons. We leave right after the scene with Susie after all.

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But it was so important to Toby that we know Ramb didn't just walk away off screen or disappear without a reason, that he gave the dust bunny in the s rank room a unique shocked sprite so we’d know to talk to it. 

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“I was so scared, Ramb was..” doesn't tell us much. Did something scary happen to him? Did he do something that scared them? 

And why do we need to think about that in the first place? Isn't he supposed to just be an irrelevant statue by this point? Why was it important enough to be told to us?

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Why doesn't the knight make the air crackle with freedom?

Think about it. When spamton turns into the dealmaker/puppet scarf he becomes a little glimmer and falls down to us, and we get both the item he turned into and the shadow crystal he held. 

The part that chipped off the knight's sword was the Black Shard, not the shadow crystal. They were just holding it, it wasn't a part of them. 

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And, they don't have the freedom motif in their theme… 

And “The air crackles with freedom” doesn't show up during their fight…

and they’re an unavoidable battle, unlike Jevil, Spamton, or Gerson. 

And… They’re repeatedly said to have arrived late. Almost as if, if they had arrived in time, and Tenna wouldn't have had to stall the show so much, they could do what they came to do, whatever that was.

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The knight didn't mean for things to happen the way they did! 

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I think the implication is that, if the knight wasn't late, one of the probable many dastardly activities it would be up to, would be to give Ramb the shadow crystal it was holding.

Interesting too that their plan this chapter is prophesied to fail (lord of screens, cleaved red by blade), while we're trying to break the prophecy. 

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If the prophecy was broken this chapter and the knight did all they wanted perfectly, would we have fought Ramb? 

--------------

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You might notice that most of these end with questions, and that's the point. We're not being told everything there is to know. For some reason, we're being made to ask questions. 

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I'll be honest, if you make some assumptions you could probably find answers to most of these, but I can't, even with assuming things like; he's Eram, or he's truly not someone we're meant to care for- (those cancel each other out btw) Find an explanation to everything. 

If you figure out an answer to one, another falls apart.

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And I'm not trying to find the answers to these questions, I'm just pointing them out, because for an irrelevant side character those are a shit ton of loose ends. That's what's weirding me out! Why are we being made to ask questions about someone who's made to be insignificant??

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This isn't a Mike situation where the answer was just “we don't know” and a pun about “real mike” (brilliant, btw)

Mike was a question for years at this point, but he had no answer because there wasn't meant to be one, we made the question of “who's mike” up!!

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But with Ramb we're given the character and the questions at the same time, something is being built, but there's no way for us to know what right now. For now we just have the questions.

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Isn't he a cryptic shopkeeper and that's it?

Not really? he doesn't have a shop menu, there's no option to sell him anything, there's no extended talk option, and you can't even buy anything from him and it's being pointed out in game;

“Gotta use that vending machine though, Tenna doesn't like us… touching the points.”

“Mixing drinks for himself, he wasn't allowed to handle the points”

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He's the least shopkeeper a shopkeeper ever was. Even the old man in chapter 4 had a more proper shop.

--------

Alright, so he’s a shopkeeper narratively, not literally. the Seam to Jevil, Swatch for Spamton. 

Is he Eram’s shopkeeper? 

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Seam hinted at Jevil’s existence the very first time we met them, they gave us a part of the key to his cell, and once we beat him they expanded on his story and downfall.

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Swatch hinted at someone stealing their look, breaking into the mansion, they shush you up if you bring up the basement. And after you beat spamton, they tell you what they knew of him, and how they saw everything as it went wrong.

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Ramb didn't know Eram existed. He didn't understand why Kris thought someone was in the back with them, he didn't see anyone come in. 

In Ramb's mind he just gave Kris a classic NES game like the ones they played as a kid, where you can go around with your sword and level up, or play peacefully, completing side quests and talking to the characters. 

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With how much he cares about kris, it's obvious he had no idea there would be a harmful taunting creature in there, calling their name and changing the game to give them a worse time, he didn't have to tell us that to his knowledge no one was back there with them, but he still did. 

Sometimes things should be taken at face value.

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The shopkeepers to secret bosses dynamic seems to exist so that we could learn more about the secret bosses stories and about them as characters. We've seen two instances where the shopkeeper and the secret boss knew each other, but because they're there just to give us more information on them, then they don't really have to. 

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Ramb could’ve given us information in a backwards way, saying things that include game or lore hints that would make sense to us but still show that he has no idea he's filling the role of a guide. 

(think about Noelle's line in chapter 4; “we’ll know it's there if it makes noise.” she didn't know the soul was in the closet, she didn't know she was giving the player a hint! She was just telling Susie that if they heard a mouse squeak or something then they’ll know it entered Dess’s room.)

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And yet Ramb wasn't even that! We didn't learn anything about Eram from him, even after reading all his lines of dialogue about the game!!!

Ramb is not the battleable secret boss obviously, but he’s not even the shopkeeper to one!

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What he is in this story, and will he be more? (Conclusion)

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So… what is he supposed to be? Is he just a red herring? Is his only purpose in this story to throw us off and be a part of this chapter’s expectation subversion? 

So why the loose ends? Why the information?

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Like I said before, deltarune is not meant to be predicted. It can't be! Whatever all of this was for, if it was for anything, what it will be, when it will be and how, it's all up to toby. 

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Originally, I wanted to bring up a theory I really believe in about the future of deltarune. If you're familiar with mollystars’ “the device theory”, you'll know all about it. New-game-plus.

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(In short, it's about how currently we're playing by the prophecy, (think of it as a flawed undertale neutral run), and once we reach the end of deltarune, we could break the prophecy, and have an extra epilogue chapter, or play the whole game again, and have a timeline where the prophecy is broken. (like resetting a neutral undertale ending and playing pacifist))

(watch the device theory trilogy on yt if you're interested, it's awesome and like 10 and a half hours long.)

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At first, this theory had a whole segment here, explaining it at length, and why ramb seems to fit it perfectly-

But… I decided not to do that. Sure, Ramb’s weird existence kinda does make me think about the new game plus theory, but… no. I'm not gonna assume anything more about him. 

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We were given the character, then the questions. We can rack our brains trying to find the answers and feel as confident about them as we can be, but we were so off about Tenna before the chapters came out you guys. 

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A lot of people tend to dismiss Ramb as just another character in this chapter that happened with nothing much more to him. 

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The purpose of this essay, alongside compiling the information about Ramb and analyzing it and his character, was to point out and bring attention to the questions that his odd existence in this chapter raises, not try to answer them.

 just show how strange it is that this character, that's supposed to be a red herring and nothing more, has this many questions regarding him, his existence in this story, and his unclear end. 

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Something is being planned here, and we have no way of knowing what.

All we can do is sit with this character, the questions, the loose ends, the clues … and wonder.

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Posts i used as a reference, or influenced my view on things, or are just awesome to read if you want more Ramb:]

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What's the Deal with Ramb? - by koimethehorizon:

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Why it's important that ramb isn't an American plug - by Askerror87’s;

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We are Studying Ramb Again - by lost-seal:

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Thinking about ramb by meatcarnival3000:

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RAMB VS ERAM - by frankent1ts:

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Ok, we need to talk about Ramb - by todaslocas:

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(Short but really influenced how I think about Ramb and Tenna's relationship!) - by meatcarnival3000:

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Ramb tenna lore Supercut - by unikhroma:

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thank you for reading! <3

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[vapolis]

saw some posts about how IF writers need to free themselves of the shackles of long word counts and honestly, I agree. some of my most favorite published IFs are 180k words long without code. that's an average chapter for some on here which is impressive and amazing for readers but telling a story in less and having it make an impact still is also incredibly impressive to me

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[thatbuddie]

in the spirit of spreading excitement and joy: buddie fic writers, please reblog this post and use the tags to talk about what fic ideas or goals you’re hoping to write and publish in the next few months!!! <3

[niccolites]

is possessed by an evil spirit for a moment and i can only think abt brother's best friend soap (heavily inspired by @ceilidho's ask here)

Idk man something about soap having always been a little bit weird with u. he's been friends with ur brother for years, back to when you were teenagers. He's only a year older but you felt the gulf of that gap, exaggerated when he shot up, puberty like a tool he used just to tower over u and make u uncomfortable

Growing up with him as a perpetual shadow, always a little bit too close, always a little bit too intense. Your parents shrug it off when u complain about it, telling u that he just likes u and u could be nicer to him about it, poor guy. Ur brother calls u stuck up when u snub soap, hissing at u to stop embarrassing him when ur rude when johnny tries to give u his seat on the couch where they're playing on their console

only you know that he's only offering u a seat so that he can press in close, a hulking mass in the corner of your eye as hot breath hits the side of ur face while he tries to look down ur shirt. constantly trying to dodge his grabby hands that grip ur exposed thighs or smooth over ur hips - pupils blown out when his hands swallow up the expanse of your skin

u snap at one point and tell him that he disgusts u, that ur not into him at all. he goes red in the face, growling that you've been leading him on, that ur playing games with his head (he is assuming u wearing a blue bra after he yanked ur turtleneck up was to match his eyes, even tho he shouldn't have seen it in the first place)

u end up with ur panties around ur knees as he forces u to stroke his cock, panting into ur throat as u 'make apologies' to him. he forgives u btw, he knows that u have to act this way, that ur brother would kill him if he knew. makes it seem like ur partners in crime, in this together even with his hand manacled around ur wrist to stroke him off

it gets worse after he enlists, and u don't see him for weeks or months. he gets pent up, barely putting a show on for everyone before he's dragging u off slick mouth on urs until there's spittle dribbling down ur chin, whining for u to please let him see his pretty girl (he's talking abt ur pussy), already 2 knuckles deep so ur wondering why he's even asking in the first place

and now he's a hero to everyone else. stuck in the bind of him being the in-love teenager to the kind-hearted man that is risking his life for everyone, do you have to be so cruel to him?

u wonder why, face pressed into the pillows of ur childhood bedroom as he hikes ur ass into the air to rut into u hard and fast

u do what u always do, hissing and spitting at him until he finally gets his way and ur back bows as he barely pauses through ur orgasm as he chases his own. he knows that u have to put the show on, lovey, but he's waiting in the backwing for u. partners in crime right?

[ayexaye]

Kaiser didn’t even look at you when you stepped into his room. In fact, you weren’t sure if he’s looked at you at all since he got back from Japan a few days ago. Ever since he got back, he’s been different. You were understandably excited to know he had returned, and asked if he wanted to go out together, but he only responded to your texts and calls with indifference and a short “maybe”.

You knew he had a fragile ego. You knew that his arrogance and superiority were only masks to hide how much he truly despised everything about himself. But he never really let you—or, really, anyone—close enough to see how fake that mask was and how deep that hatred went.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You could only stare at the pitiful man in front of you, sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Kaiser muttered, hands clenching against the sheets.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m worth anything.”

You slowly crossed the room towards him, and he seemed to flinch. Kaiser, who once carried himself like a god, now looked up at you like a dog who’s been kicked to the streets. He looked like a wreck, with dark circles and red-rimmed eyes like he hadn’t slept in days (and the only time he did was when he cried until he passed out), unusually tense shoulders, and restless hands.

You hated this. Not him, but you hated how the world treated him, how he treated himself. You knew he could do good things if he gave himself a chance.

“Get out.” He snapped, even though both of you knew it wasn't you he was angry with. “Whatever version of me you think you love is fake. I’m garbage.”

“Whatever happened, you’re still you.” You attempted to get through to him, but Kaiser wouldn’t listen.

“Leave. Before I make you hate me too. You should want better than me. You deserve more than me.”

── .✦

Idk what this is i just have kaiser on the mind

𖹭.ᐟ Masterlist

[takami-takami]

And If I Want It Soft?

includes— hawks x reader. smut. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. taking keigo's virginity.

If this is the corruption they warned him about, let it be sweet and let it be you.

It's hardly noticable; but Keigo gets nervous when you touch him like this. Like he's doing something wrong, something forbidden. His feathers twitch like they're prepared to detect his commission handlers stalking around the corner of his dim apartment hallway, forboding and scolding something shrill and calculated in his direction.

Instead, Keigo blanks at the way you touch him. Leans into your touch like a kitten, purring when you scratch his scalp. A blissed-out coo trills in Keigo's throat when your fingertips scritch at the feathery, baby blonde hairs where his skull meets his neck. A sweet sound. Innocent. Lovesick, those shut eyes and subtle smile.

But oh, the way Keigo stiffens when your hand follows the ridges of his spine down his neck like water over the rocks of a riverbank, splaying beneath the cotton of his shirt and flooding his senses there.

Keigo's body prepares for his handlers to scold him something fierce, now that he's got a pretty thing touching him all over— in ways the commission would surely balk at, too— but that doesn't happen. Instead, your sweet voice lulls him under the river's waves again, soothing that overworked mind of his. Quieting it with gooey safety.

Calling him words like pretty, and sweet boy, and mine.

Can you blame Keigo for stirring beneath the waist? Honestly, it's quite inappropriate of him to be thinking these sorts of things about you. Your bare hand is massaging the tender junction between his shoulderblades beneath his shirt. His face is smushed against your chest, arms strewn over your body in bed. It's not like he can help whining a little in his throat, nosing at your body like he's thirsty for something more to wet his appetite.

He's a virgin. At his age in his twenties, too. Seen all that life as a hero and the poor thing has never gotten his cock wet. A shame.

You won't let that stay for long, though. He's sure. He wouldn't give it to anyone but you. And lord, God, angels in heaven— he wants you to take him.

But that isn't appropriate to say. So instead, Keigo lets the tension simmer. Luxuriates in it, lets himself sink into it like a hot bath.

Until next time. He thinks he'll let you touch him wherever you want, next time.

---

Where should he put his hands?

Your tongue is pressing against his, but it doesn't feel strange. Foreign, sure. Welcome, absolutely; but nothing about this is unnatural.

Still not used to this, Keigo closes his eyes and allows himself to moan. Judging by the way your lips quirked against his, he's sure he did something you liked. His heart sings at the thought and he huffs against your mouth.

He did good.

Subtle praise makes a man bold, and he decides to try his hand at making more sounds for you with the intention of infecting you back with that imposing heat you impart unto him— only this time, Keigo allows his tongue to curl around words.

Words like you're so beautiful, and I want you so badly, and mine, too.

Your soft hand palms at his cock over his hero uniform and Keigo nearly chokes on a sob, eyes rolling back like he just touched God.

Would it come across as desperate to reach down and undo his pants, himself? A stern voice sharply barks the word greedy in the back of his mind for liking this. Keigo whimpers and turns his head away as if it will help him escape the thought, but then—

"Greedy boy," you whisper, and Keigo's breath hitches with arousal.

"You like this," you ask. Reverent, not judging.

He does. He likes you.

Keigo must have nodded at some point, because your warm laughter and sympathetic mmhm, good boy make his shoulders fall lax and comfortable.

"Can you," Keigo dares to ask, eyes wide. "You don't have to, it's just—"

He hears his buttons undone.

---

This time, you're both wearing much less clothing and Keigo is the one on top. He wonders if you're feeling as exposed as he is; but he doesn't have to wonder if you also feel this right— Keigo can hear your thoughts through your body, now. A honed skill, an acquired dialect.

You did that thing you usually do to him, stole his breath through his cock and sucked his thoughts down your throat as if his body were some kind of holy ambrosia; but tonight, as you both discussed prior, Keigo wouldn't be finding release in your mouth.

When did the most erotic thing ever done to him become simply foreplay? He used to lose his mind at the way you fit him into your mouth, begging garbled pleas for forgiveness from something or someone unreachable for feeling this good. Now, it simply makes him hungrier.

"Like this," he mutters the question to you for guidance, congratulating himself on not choking the moment his fat tip presses against you, prodding at your entrance.

"Mm," you moan and the sound is like lightning down his cock, causing it to twitch. "A little lower. Then press forward and—"

A gasp. Possibly two. Fuck if Keigo can tell, stars swimming in clockwise circles around his head.

The heat of your hands grounds him, palms squished against his cheeks as he presses his forehead to yours, sinking inside.

"Breathe, darling," you smile.

"God, I'm— I, I'm trying," Keigo laughs, boyish, pretty, and golden. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Right?"

You clench and shift your hips just for show and Keigo's jaw drops in a silent scream.

"You can do that? Don't do that," he whines, nosing into your neck. You feel his bare skin against you and his breath comes panting. You smile triumphantly.

"Sorry, sorry," you say. "I'm nervous, too. You just looked so cute. Your nose got all scrunched up and—"

As quickly as they bubbled up, the words are snatched in your throat like air lifted from your lungs. Keigo's firm hands pin your hips softly in place, grinding his body boldly against yours. Dragging himself deeply in your guts, knocking the breath out of you with pleasure.

As much as Keigo adores the sound of your voice, pillowy and seraphic, he needs to satiate this feeling in his chest somehow.

"It feels good for me, too." A kiss against his shoulder. "You take care of me so good. You're real gentle with me."

Like a lover, Keigo's mind completes for you.

Finally soft. Finally seen. Keigo blinks back the tears and kisses you again instead.

---

Keigo would be hesitant to admit the amount of research he did prior to undressing you, but in the end, it blanked from his mind entirely once you both started melding together. That being said, he does particularly recall most of the advice detailing how unrealistic and difficult it is to finish at the same time as your partner.

Huh. He supposes not everything you read online has to be true.

Your soft, sleepy breaths rouse Keigo from his daydreams, recounting in meticulous detail your eyes, your movement, your voice in the throes of it. One elbow props his body up, the thin sheets revealing more of his torso when he shifts over you.

Keigo tucks a stray hair of yours and watches your dreamy breaths, the rise and fall of your bare chest that was just against his own.

He should probably feel guilty for calling you his spouse already, but he doesn't. He supposes he never will.

[proselles]

clinging to the sex warning for arcane like an angst with a happy ending tag on ao3