#and it feels weird that the one she thinks would be most likely to give it to her if she asked is Wyll

[dontrllycaretbh]

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Title: Dripping offense

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: explicit sapphic content (18+), spit kink, first-time touch, mutual masturbation, dom!Azzi / sub!Paige dynamics, fingering, soft praise, erotic vulnerability, flushed confessions, breathy tension, years of longing, slow unraveling of innocence, first orgasm, squirt mention, unspoken love, emotional safety in a physical moment

Word count: 4,111 words

Summary:

In a quiet hotel room after the game, Paige admits she’s never kissed anyone—never even touched herself. Azzi doesn’t laugh. She listens. She guides. And in the soft hush between them, curiosity turns into trust, and trust into something wetter, deeper, harder to name.

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The hotel room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The muffled sounds of teammates down the hall—laughing, arguing over snacks, bumping music—were just white noise now. Paige was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still in her Uconn warm-ups, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Azzi was lying on her side across the other bed, propped up on one elbow, scrolling half-heartedly through her phone.

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The game had ended hours ago, but their adrenaline hadn’t quite faded yet.

“You ever think about… like, what your life would be like if you weren’t an athlete?” Paige asked, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Azzi looked up from her phone. “Yeah. All the time actually.”

Paige laughed. “You’d be like a really intense librarian or something.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You think I give off librarian vibes?”

“You give off…organized chaos. Like you’d run a super strict library but still sneak your friends in after hours.”

“That’s fair.”

The conversation drifted for a bit. They talked about music, what classes they hated the most, and how the hotel had the weirdest vending machine options. Then it got quiet again. A different kind of quiet.

Paige sat up, hugging a pillow to her chest. She looked hesitant, like she was weighing something in her mind.

Azzi noticed. “What?”

Paige bit her lip. “…Can I tell you something? Kinda personal?”

Azzi rolled over to face her completely. “Of course.”

Paige looked visibly embarrassed, and was blushing a little bit. Her face turned red, and she looked like she really didn’t want to admit what was coming next. “…Um…n-neither…neither a girl nor a boy…I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Azzi blinked, then smiled gently. “Oh.”

“I mean—not like I didn’t want to. I just…never really found the right time. Or the right person,” Paige said quickly, her words rushing. “And I guess I’ve always been kinda awkward and shy. It’s not like I

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” Paige continued, her voice quiet, eyes darting down to her hands. “I’ve just… I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I had to focus on basketball, or school, or whatever else was right in front of me. And whenever it came to, like… relationships, or stuff like that—I just froze.”

Azzi nodded, sitting up slightly on her bed, giving Paige her full attention. There was no teasing in her expression, just quiet understanding.

Paige exhaled shakily, clearly relieved to have finally said it aloud. “And yeah, if I’ve never kissed anyone… I guess that means I haven’t… you know.”

Azzi tilted her head, just watching Paige softly.

“…Had sex,” Paige clarified, flustered. Her face turned even redder. “Not with a guy. Not with a girl. Not with anyone.”

There was a long pause before Azzi finally broke it with a warm, careful voice. “Paige, that’s not weird.”

“It feels weird,” Paige said quickly. “I mean, who goes to college, commits to Uconn, and still hasn’t even had their first kiss? Everyone always talks like they’ve done everything already and I’m just sitting here pretending to know what they’re talking about.”

“You’re not behind. You’re just… on your own timeline.” Azzi smiled softly, leaning forward. “There’s no checklist. No deadline.”

Paige looked at her, visibly trying not to tear up—not from sadness, but from the safety she felt in Azzi’s calm, grounding voice. “It’s just lately… I’ve been feeling kind of lonely. Like, not just physically—emotionally too. I’ve started noticing things. Thinking about things more. Like… wondering what it’d be like.”

Azzi stayed silent, letting her speak.

“I’ve seen stuff on TV or in movies—people kissing, being close, touching each other—and I never used to care. But now, I don’t know… I’ll see something and think, ‘That looks nice. I wonder what that feels like.’” She swallowed. “I’ve just never wanted to try it. Not with anyone. Until now.”

There was a beat.

Azzi’s eyes met hers. “Until now?”

Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yeah…with you.”

The silence hung heavy now, not uncomfortable—but charged with something delicate. Paige looked like she wanted to crawl under a pillow and disappear, but also like she’d just jumped off a cliff and was waiting to land.

Azzi didn’t look away. Her voice was gentle, but direct. “You excite me in ways I didn’t expect, too,” she admitted. “And I don’t want you to feel ashamed about anything you haven’t done. You’re not missing anything. You’re just starting to explore what you want.”

Paige gave a nervous smile, eyes still a little glassy. “There’s…one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never even…” Paige trailed off, her face going scarlet now. “I’ve never touched myself.”

Azzi blinked, surprised—not in judgment, but in the raw honesty of the moment. “Like, ever?”

Paige shook her head, quickly. “Nope. I don’t know. It just never felt like something I needed to do. Or maybe I was scared I wouldn’t know how. Or feel weird afterward. I don’t know.”

Azzi hesitated, then sat up straighter, choosing her words carefully. “Can I…maybe guide you? Not touch you—just talk you through it. If you want. Only if you want.”

Paige looked stunned by the offer, but also like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She nodded shyly, holding her breath. “I think I do. I trust you.”

Azzi smiled softly, her voice steady but warm. “Okay. First thing… lie back. Just breathe for a second. This isn’t about performing. It’s just you getting to know your body. Don’t rush anything.”

Paige followed her voice, nervously lying back against the pillows. Her breathing was a little shaky, but she was listening.

“You don’t even have to go anywhere near…there, right now. Just start by touching your stomach. Let your hands explore. Think of it like learning how to be comfortable in your own skin.”

Azzi kept her voice low and soothing, making sure Paige was calm, checking in with her eyes, her body language. There was no pressure. Just guidance. Comfort. Trust.

“You move at your own pace. You stop whenever you want. There’s no right way to do this.”

Paige exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, one hand resting lightly on her own stomach now. Her face still burned red, but there was something new there too—peace. Curiosity. Safety.

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Just breathe, Paige," Azzi said, her voice a smooth melody in the quiet. "Let your hand wander a little further down."

Paige's hand shakily traced the path from her navel to the waistband of her shorts, her skin tingling with anticipation. Her eyes remained shut, her mind racing with thoughts of the unknown. This was the closest she'd ever come to this kind of intimacy, and it was with someone she never thought would be the one to guide her through it.

"Take your time," Azzi coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "There's no rush."

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric, and Paige's breath hitched. The soft hairs of her core met her fingertips, and she paused for a moment, unsure. The sensation was weird but somehow familiar.

"It's okay," Azzi whispered. "You can go slower."

Encouraged, Paige's hand slid further down, her fingertips grazing the slick folds of her core. She gasped, the sensation electric. It was as if she'd just found the key to unlocking a secret garden.

"Now, I want you to be really honest with me," Azzi instructed. "Does it feel good?"

"yeah…fuck" Paige murmured, the word slipping out before she could think to hold it back. "It feels... really good."

"Good," Azzi said with a smile in her voice. "Now, I want you to get a little wetter."

"How?"

"Use your saliva," Azzi suggested. "Spit into your palm and rub it over your hand."

The idea of it was strange, but Paige was eager to please. She opened her eyes to see Azzi watching her with a gentle curiosity, and the sight of her friend's encouragement bolstered her courage. She did as she was told, the wet sound of her spit hitting her palm echoing in the stillness.

"Now," Azzi continued, "Spread it over your fingers. It'll make it easier."

With trembling hands, Paige did as she was instructed, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. The wetness was a new sensation, and she felt a thrill run through her as she touched herself more intimately.

"That's it," Azzi praised, her voice a purr of approval. "Now, let's see how it feels."

The tension grew with every second, every breath. Paige's body was a canvas of sensations, and she was painting a picture she'd never seen before. She was about to explore the deepest part of herself, and she had no idea wh

Her hand hovered over her core, the wetness of her saliva making her skin slick and slippery. With a deep breath, she touched herself for the first time.

"How does that feel?" Azzi asked, her voice low and soothing.

"Wet," Paige murmured, her eyes still closed. "Sensitive."

"Good," Azzi said, a smile in her voice. "Keep breathing. Keep going."

And so, Paige did, her fingertips exploring her folds, finding the spot that made her gasp and bite her lip. The room spun around her as she grew bolder, her movements becoming more deliberate, more sure.

"Your breathing is changing," Azzi noted. "That's good. It means you're getting closer."

The air grew thick with anticipation as Paige's breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her hand grew more insistent, her thumb circling that magical spot that sent jolts of pleasure through her body.

"Do you want to go further?" Azzi asked, her voice a gentle whisper. "Or would you like me to show you?"

The question hung in the air, a silent invitation to see azzi in a way she’s never seen her before. But she knew she was ready. With a nod, she whispered, "I want you to show me."

Without breaking eye contact, Azzi stood up, the graceful movement of her body leaving Paige captivated. She reached down and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own shorts, slowly sliding them down her toned legs. The fabric whispered against her skin as it fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing.

"Look at me," Azzi said, her voice a gentle command. "This is how it's done."

The sounds of wetness filled the room, a rhythmic symphony that grew more intense with every second. Azzi's legs were spread wide, giving Paige a clear view of the slickness that coated her folds, the way her fingers slid in and out with ease. It was mesmerizing, like watching a dance she'd never seen before.

"It's okay to be wet," Azzi said, her voice a little louder now, a little more urgent. "It's natural."

With that, Paige felt a strange thrill as she leaned over and spit into her palm again, the sound of it wetting her hand echoing in the quiet. She mirrored Azzi's actions, sliding her own hand into her shorts, feeling the heat and the wetness of her own desire.

They stayed like that, a silent tableau of exploration and curiosity, their eyes locked as they touched themselves in unison. The sound of their breathing grew louder, a symphony of want and need that filled the space between them.

"Look closer," Azzi whispered, her breathing ragged. "See how wet I am for you."

Paige leaned in, her heart racing. She could see the swollen flesh of Azzi's clit

"Does it feel good when I do this?" Azzi asked, her thumb brushing over her clit in a way that made her gasp.

"It does," Paige said, her voice a little shaky. "It feels... amazing."

"Then do it," Azzi told her. "Do it to yourself."

Their eyes never left each other's as Paige followed suit, her thumb finding that magical spot that seemed to hold all the answers she'd ever been looking for. The feeling was indescribable, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

"Look how beautiful you are," Azzi said, her voice thick with arousal. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by Azzi's words, Paige's eyes fluttered open, meeting her friend's gaze. The air was thick with a tension that was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. She could see the desire in Azzi's eyes, the way they searched hers for permission to take this further. And in that moment, she realized she didn't just want this to be about her anymore.

"Can I...can I do that for you?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned in, and Paige felt the warmth of her breath on her cheek. But instead of closing the distance, Azzi held back. "You can spit in my mouth," she suggested. "It's something I like."

Surprise flickered in Paige's eyes, but she felt a strange excitement at the idea. It was so intimate, so raw, and yet it didn't feel wrong. She leaned in, her own breath shallow and rapid. The first spurt of saliva was awkward, the sensation of her spit landing in Azzi's open mouth foreign and thrilling.

Their eyes remained locked as they shared this silent, erotic moment. It was a dance of trust and desire, a bond forming between them that went beyond friendship. The saliva mingled between their lips, but they didn't kiss—not yet.

"Now, I want you to do it to yourself," Azzi said, her voice a low purr.

Paige nodded, the act of spitting in Azzi's mouth somehow empowering. She leaned back against the pillows, her hand still buried in her shorts. She watched as Azzi mirrored her actions, her thumb moving in slow circles around her own clit, the wet sounds of their shared pleasure filling the room.

With a deep breath, Paige spit into her own palm, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks at the sheer intimacy of it all. The saliva was a bridge between them, a shared experience that was both erotic and innocent. She brought her hand back to her core, the wetness making her movements smoother, more deliberate.

As they touched themselves in sync, the air grew thick with the scent of arousal. The sound of their breathing grew louder, their bodies moving in a silent rhythm.

The moment was a crescendo of sensation, each stroke of Paige's thumb against her clit a note in a symphony of pleasure. The wetness grew, their shared breaths turning ragged as they both approached the edge of something new.

"Keep going, Paige," Azzi urged, her voice tight with restraint. "You're almost there."

The encouragement spurred Paige on, her eyes still on Azzi's as she felt the tension coil within her. Her hand was a blur of motion now, her thumb pressing harder, faster. And then it hit—a wave so powerful, so unexpected, that she couldn't hold back a cry.

Her body convulsed, muscles tightening as she squirted, the wetness soaking her hand, the sheets beneath her. She'd heard about it, read about it, but to actually experience it was like nothing she could have ever imagined.

"Oh my God," she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "I just... I just did it fuck.”

The sight of Paige's pleasure was intoxicating, and Azzi could feel her own climax building. The sound of the wetness was like a siren's call, urging her own hand to move faster, more urgently.

"Keep watching me, Paige," she whispered, her voice strained with desire. "I want you to see how good it feels."

Her eyes remained locked on Paige's face as she leaned over, her fingers sliding out of her core. She reached for the wet spot on the bed where Paige's juices had soaked through, and without breaking eye contact, she brought the fabric to her lips.

The salty taste of the water mingled with the faint sweetness of the sheets, and she sucked the liquid into her mouth, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Paige's eyes widened, and Azzi knew she had her full attention.

"holy fuck azzi, that was the hottest thing ever” Paige murmured, her voice thick with awe.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, the act of sharing their pleasure in such a raw, primal way bridging the gap between them. Azzi felt a sense of belonging she hadn't known was missing.

"Do you like that?" Azzi asked, her eyes dark with lust.

"I do," Paige said, her voice shaky. "It's... it's really hot."

with Paige's response, Azzi leaned in closer, her tongue snaking out to lick at the damp fabric. The taste was faint, but it was enough to send another jolt through her.

"Keep watching," she whispered, her hand moving back to her own core, the need to want to put her own fingers there. "Keep watching”

Their eyes remained locked as they pleasured themselves, the room filled with the sounds of their shared passion. Paige watched as Azzi's fingers moved in and out of her core , her own hand mimicking the motion.

As the tension grew, so did the wetness, and Azzi felt the need to be closer—to share in this moment fully. She slid onto the bed, her own legs spreading to give Paige a better view. “you ready?”

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[whereserpentswalk]

You're an android. In theory you're a human, just a human who was artificially created. But most people think of you as a robot trying to be human, even people who are ok with you being that way. Society has robots, and it has humans, and it's weird about anything in-between, or that starts out more like one and becomes more like the other.

There are some people who outright advocate agaisnt creatures like you, say that you're an inhuman monster pretending to be human. But most people see you as wrong in a more subtle way. They still see you as something pretending to be human, and have just accepted that, like your humanity is a delusion that it's best to play along with.

They'll give you strange compliments. They'll meet you and say that you almost fooled them into thinking you're a real person, and expect you to take that as a compliment. They'll talk about you're eyes as if they're pretending to be eyes, your skin as if it's pretending to be skin, your voice as if it's a voice you're putting on and expect it to be more robotic. And when they talk about how robots are inherently less emotional and more prone to violence or cruelty they don't understand why you, someone who thinks of themself as human, would feel like you're being targeted.

And when humans around you talk about the inherent bond and sense of shared community they have to have to protect themselves from robots, you understand inherently that you will never be included in that, that it's a bond that requires humans and robots to be separate in a way they aren't for you. And all that even when the type of robot who hurts humans still wants to hurt you the same way, and thinks they can get away with it.

You tried dating a human once, one who was born human, and she still saw you as a dangerous robot that she needed to protect herself from. And when you tried dating a robot, he treated you like he would a human who he can get away with doing things to that wouldn't be acceptable to do to someone who everyone agreed was a human.

The best you can do for a lot of people is pretend to be the perfect human, unarmed and inoffensive, looking exactly like how human society wants humans to look. If you raise your voice, or seem to angry, or dress in a way that doesn't fit the world's standard of humanity, you risk being seen as the robot that everyone sees you as.

You recently started hanging out with a cyborg. It was uncomfortable at first. Cyborgs are basically doing the opposite of what you're doing, they're mostly people who were born human, who are trying to become less human. Just like how some androids see themselves as humans, some see themselves as robots, and some see themselves as something else, it's the same with cyborgs.

It's a bit horrifying to meet a cyborg for you, to know they're destroying what you want. To know that they've removed so much skin from their body when you fought so hard to have skin. To know that they actively try to make their joins as obvious as possible when you cringe to think someone might see an external joint on you. That they've made their facial features as inhuman as they could when you worked so hard just to have something humans read as eyes. It took you awhile to come to terms with the fact that being more like a robot makes them happy the same way that being more lime a human makes you happy.

You eventually realize how they're treated, not worse or better then you but differently, a type of hatred painted by a perverse mask of sympathy. You're thought of as a robot pretending to be human for suspicious purposes. Your cyborg friend is often seen as a human whose been lost or corrupted, and turned into something inhuman by sinister forces. People are hoffied at seeing a perfect human body mutilated, think of their humanity as something taken from them when it's something actively discarded. People fantasize about putting them in a body that they hate, and act as if it's fixing them, as if it's for their own good.

Eventually you move in with your cyborg freind. Somehow you feel safe together. And for some reason they're the first person you feel comfortable with touching you, with fully looking at you, and fully knowing you without shields up to protect yourself. With robots and humans you have to convince them you're human, with other androids it's like you're competing to be human. With a cyborg it's all so neutral, you don't have to prove what you aren't. You aren't trying to be a natrual born human, you can just be an android and that's enough.

You eventually start cuddling with them. You aren't sure if it's sex or not. You can't afford genitals yet and they've gotten rid of theirs. When you're together it feels so nice, touching eachother's bodies, loving them for what they are not what they're trying to be, kissing eachother and letting sensitive flesh touch sensitive metal. There is such a bliss to love someone's body for what it is and not what it's trying to be, and feeling them same love upon yourself. You wonder if you want to be a natrual born human at all, or if you just want to be a human and that's enough.

[twilightofthesandwiches]

so what's your take on the kris hand severance prediction

Hmmmm...

So my first thought when I saw all of Susie and Noelle's 'Severed Hand' Dialogue in Chapter 4, is that it's already very applicable to what's going on.

Like... the irony of the situation is that Noelle and Susie are basically right. There is, in fact, a 'severed' independently-operating Human organ acting antagonistically to it's supposed owner in the basement.

We even started possessing Kris' SOUL when they woke up one morning.

So maybe, if The Severed Hand already is kinda equated to the SOUL... maybe it will end up being our 'Vessel'?

Like, Kris ends up losing a hand and then we end up possessing it. Essentially giving ourself a body to interact with the world and finish the Game while also freeing Kris from our constant control.

(To be honest, I was never totally into the idea that we'd just track down the Discarded Vessel and possess it. It just seemed like a far too simple and clean a solution to the complex moral problem at the center of the game. The Severed Hand is at least a more interesting and freaky idea. And since while the Hand has a bit more ability to interact with the world than the disembodied SOUL does, but not as much as Kris or the Discarded Vessel, it's also kind of a genuine sacrifice on the part of the Player for the sake of Kris' agency... While also a piece of Kris has been undeniable sacrificed for our sake.)

But also... thinking more about the other references to Kris losing their hand...

And especially the one in Chapter 3's hidden '1225' room...

With the heavy connection being drawn between Kris' hand and Dess... I've started wondering, what if Kris' hand is sorta already gone?

Basically, the scenario I'm imagining is something along the lines of; Kris was with Dess when she got Gaster'ed or whatever, they held on to her to try and save her as she was taken, but she 'slipped through their fingers.' (Just like they fail to grab the item in the ball machine, which is probably a Guitar Pick, which symbolizes Dess)

So now they feel terribly guilty about their 'failure' to save her, leading to the 'promise' to the Ominous Phone Voice of Probably Carol... And also touching Dess just as she got disappeared 'infected' their hand with a Mild Case of Metaphysical Nonexistence.

So while their hand seems Normal most of the time... it is kind of in a Quantum State of non-existence/still kinda connected to Dess wherever she has gone to. Although right now it's only evident via Weird Metaphysical Stuff like the Shadow Crystals or... whatever is up with that Ball Machine.

It's like, symbolism to how Dess' disappearance made Kris feel like they lost a part of themself and they usually can repress it and pretend that they're fine and whole... but they're not, not really. Maybe it also gives them some sort of a connection to the deeper planes of metaphysical bullshit going on in the story. Like, maybe this is why they can access the Egg Rooms?

Well, regardless of the details, if Kris really is going to lose their hand (whatever it's cause its Quantum State of Non-Existence got resolved or it just got chopped-off in the Normal Way), it would be pretty tragic for them. From what I've heard, it's not impossible... but it is a lot harder to play Piano with only one hand...

[rainrot4me]

first time requesting kinda nervous 😳 how the proxies (emphasis on toby and ben ofc) would react to meeting a fangirl

please..

✦ . jeff the killer

At first? He eats it up.

She’s squealing, telling him how “hot” he is, asking about the murders like they’re the newest trend—and Jeff’s smirking like a celebrity caught in public.

“Damn. You read the whole thing? You must be real desperate.”

He’ll let her fawn over him, lean in close, give her that predator grin. He likes that power, but it gets boring fast. The second she asks for a selfie, he’s already pulling a knife.

“You think I’m some fandom character? Cute. Let’s make it real.”

Fangirl or not—if she treats him like a fantasy? He’ll remind her what the real Jeff feels like.

✦ . ticci toby

Toby would be so weirded out. The second she starts gushing about his “axe aesthetic” and how she read “sooo many x readers with him,” he’s just standing there like: 😬

“Wait. You… like me? Like… that?”

He’ll stutter, glance around, then get real uncomfortable when she tries to touch his hoodie or talk about his stutter like it’s “cute.”

He might end up blurting something violent just to shut her up. Snapping like a cornered dog.

“You know I’ve g-gutted people, right? Like for real. This isn’t so-some fantasy, girl.”

But if she’s persistent? He’ll probably flee the scene before he short-circuits.

✦ . eyeless jack

Stone. Cold. Silence.

She’s freaking out—“OMG JACK I LOVE YOU,” waving her phone around showing art of him shirtless, gushing about his “dark aura.”

Jack just… stares. Doesn’t say a word.

“You love me, huh?” Leans in. Sniffs her.

“What part of organ consumption do you find romantic?”

She keeps babbling. He calmly says,

“Take one step closer, and I’ll remove your fingers and make you watch.”

Jack does not want to be romanticized. The only way he’s tolerating a fangirl is if she comes with an organ donor heart on her driver’s license.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim’s immediately suspicious.

Fangirl energy? Red flag. He thinks she’s either a plant from the cops, a proxy from another faction, or batshit unstable.

“What the hell is this?”

When she starts talking about his trauma like it’s character development, it pushes his buttons fast.

He might pin her to the wall just to see how quick she screams.

“You like killers so bad? Then act like prey.”

No patience. No tolerance. She gets too touchy and she’s knocked out cold.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Brian just… vanishes. The minute she starts gushing about his “mystery” and calling him “babygirl,” he’s halfway across the forest.

If she catches him off guard?

He’ll give her the iciest stare ever. Total silence.

“You’re not supposed to know I exist.”

If she pushes it, though—tries to flirt, pulls the “I can fix you” line—he’ll pull his gun and level it calmly at her head.

“No. You can’t.”

End of conversation.

✦ . kate the chaser

Kate’s first instinct? Mockery.

“Oh my god, are you… serious? You’re crushing?”

If the fangirl is cringe, she’ll go hard. Insults, intimidation, laughter.

“Lemme guess. Daddy issues and a Tumblr archive full of fake blood edits.”

But if the fangirl is confident, maybe even a little unhinged? Kate will be curious.

“You’ve got guts. Let’s see if they’re pretty on the floor.”

Don’t fangirl at Kate unless you’ve got the spine to back it up.

✦ . ben drowned

Ben is loving it.

She’s talking about his glitches, his tragic past, how he’s her “favorite haunted boy.” He lounges back and smirks, soaking in every second.

“Damn, you do got good taste.”

He’ll flirt back, call her Player 2, maybe even offer to show her the inside of his code. But if she starts crossing lines—calling him her “anime husbando” or posting about it online—he’ll crash her phone.

“This ain’t a play date, baby. This is a curse.”

Still, he’s the most likely to entertain a fangirl. For a while. Especially if she’s hot.

✦ . clockwork

Natalie hates it.

The minute a girl starts calling her “mommy” or complimenting her “yandere energy,” she’s already planning how to break her fingers.

“You think murder’s cute? You think me ripping someone’s throat out is adorable?”

She’ll mock the fangirl’s voice, imitate her squealing, then lean in and whisper something truly vile just to shut her down.

“Say one more thing about my clock and I’ll turn you into a organless corpse.”

But if the girl’s genuinely respectful? Nat might spare her. Maybe. Barely.

✦ . laughing jack

LJ is delighted. He thinks fangirls are hilarious.

“You read stories about me? Did they get the part where I pulled a kid’s intestines out like party streamers?”

He’ll lean into it, play the part, even sign her arm in fake blood if it makes her scream.

But deep down, he’s analyzing her. Seeing how far she’s willing to go. How far he can push.

“Ohhh, you’re obsessed with me? That’s adorable. Let’s test it, sugarpop.”

She might think it’s fun and games. Until the lights in his eyes go out and his smile fades.

✦ . slenderman

Utter disdain.

He senses her miles away. Her obsession. Her idealization.

“You perceive me as fiction.”

She comes running with fanart and poems and glittery Tumblr edits—he doesn’t even blink. Just tilts his head.

“Fascinating. You mistake horror for romance. Let me correct your delusion.”

One look from him and her mind could shatter. He’s not here to be idolized.

He is the myth. And myth doesn’t bend for fangirls.

꩜ .ᐟ

[cowaoba]

hi college sports kingdon au thoughts

- ballerina mel and hockey player langdon

- they kinda run in the same crowd so they know of each other’s name, but all langdon really knows about her is that she’s good friends with his arch-nemesis santos, the co-captain of the women’s hockey team

- they don’t meet until shen introduces them at one of his house parties, and langdon’s shocked that this shy, petite girl with big glasses and soft hair is one of santos’ best friends

- she calls him frank (she thinks calling someone by their last name is disrespectful to their individuality) and shen expects him to correct her like he usually does (he thinks being called by your last name is a right of passage for male twenty-somethings) but instead he just kinda looks at her doe-eyed and talks in this weird gentle voice he’s never heard before

- after that, he just can’t get her out of his head. trips over his feet to say hi to her when they cross paths on campus, tries (and fails) to subtly ask santos how she is, pushes shen to throw another party, etc.

- she starts going to some of his games under the guise of supporting shen, and is enraptured by the way he glides on the ice

- he somehow always manages to catch her eye and wave excitedly until she shyly waves back

- the first time a brawl happens at one of his games he’s hesitant to jump in because he wants to come off as calm, cool, and collected, but the other team doesn’t really give him a chance to not get involved

- (and listen, mel finds violence in sports mostly unnecessary and just a way for men to stupidly show off, but she would be lying if sometimes she didn’t blush and kick her feet in bed when she remembers the way he’d come out of that fight, hair tussled and wet, a bruise forming around his jaw, and a bloody smirk that only grew as he continued to talk shit)

- langdon’s not great with words, there’s a reason he avoids english classes, but the way he describes how mel dances is akin to the most beautiful love poems. he doesn’t ballet, but god does he love watching her dance

- they’re adorably obnoxious when they finally get together, always cuddling close or holding hands tightly. she shows up to his games in full hockey fan gear (for their april fools game she shows up in shen’s jersey and laughs her ass off when langdon nearly faints from disgust), and he sits in the back of the ballet studio watching her practice with stars in his eyes

- langdon’s got a lifetime of nicknames and pet names for mel (his favorites being: mellie, my girl, and babe). mel finds herself cringing everytime she attempts to use a pet name so she just sticks with frank, which still feels special considering no one else calls him that

[soulfulazrael]

I noticed something... concerning growing in Deltarune community

And it relates to my previous post about a certain theory I had because the more I delve into this community after thinking about it the more I am concerned. And big part of that is this piece of art by sanbel780308

Just so you all know though. I throw NO shade at the artist. They are REALLY good and I hope none of you go after them or insult them or anything. This piece of art or rather that post is something that made me realize something about DR community overall.

There is some weird... hero/savior complex going on... or something... incel like. I dunno. It just feels weird. It is mainly centered on the mentality people have around Kris and Susie. Where there is a very big theory where once Susie knows about Kris and us being separate she will ditch Kris and realize WE were her real friend all this time and that will create sad conflict.

And I honestly at this point think it's just fucking weird. Like the more I think on this theory and what mentality some people who believe it have, the more gross it feels and the more I dread if it becomes a reality.

Because this is pretty much an idea where YOU are the only reason Susie likes Kris at all and without you Kris is NOTHING and they would be nothing if not just evil. Where you are the one who does everything right. Where YOU are the one who deserves to be Susie's friend and Kris NEEDS you to be her and everyone else's friend and...

Can you tell already all the things that are just... wrong with this? It's genuinely creepy mentality. Like imagine you have a friend who helps you out with talking to a girl (or a boy or other, I don't judge). They give you some hints, they help you out being more confident and you are able to also spend more time with her, being able to have fun with her and do things with her on your own.

But then you introduce her to him (or her... or other... either way I would judge, you'll see why), you explain how they helped you. And then this person goes "Yeah. I did all the work for them. Pretty much everything they said and did was from ME! So you should be with ME! Not them! Without me they suck!".

This is pretty much what this sounds like to me. I think this comic by valentinemesis I think REALLY well shows what I mean here

Honestly. This comic nails on the head what I think is genuinely growing in this community. And the more I see it the more I hope that my idea where Susie is able to quickly get over what Kris does and is and is more angry and distrustful against US to be a reality. Because honestly... this fanbase kind of needs it I say.

This kind of cold shower where you have to wake some people up to reality where this kind of mentality REALLY should not fester. Because I genuinely something just awful would come from it. And I think Toby is smarter than let something of this sort brew in his community like this. Especially with how it feels close to what "Chara did all the bad things" was for Undertale. I feel like he knows better now.

Especially with how many of them also ignore how Kris DOES in fact do things with Susie without our input. If not most of them at this point. And to act as if they have no say, or relationship with Susie is genuinely gross.

Or maybe I am just paranoid, self hating weirdo, but to me... I just feel off about all this. And I genuinely hope this wont turn into something awful.

Anyway. Hope you all who read this check out those artists I mentioned. Support them or whatever. Do not harass any of them (as if I have enough reach to cause this). And... I hope you do not think of future events in Delatrune like this because... you gotta admit. It's fucking weird.

[ayunas-tuna]

one for the money ━━ 3.7k ˚ series chp1

part of - 𝒪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝓣𝘸𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

summary - you just got out of a painful breakup and can’t stop crying. jungkook, the university's star athlete and ex to the girl who dumped him, catches you at your lowest and makes a wild offer: fake date each other to make your exes jealous. it sounds ridiculous but you’re desperate enough to say yes. the deal is made but neither of you likes how awkward and forced it already feels. and this is only the beginning.

　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ౨ৎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚

the thing no one tells you about breakups is how quiet they are. no dramatic shouting, no stormy skies, no slamming doors. just a cold bench outside the humanities building, a sleeve soaked in snot and tears, and a phone screen lighting up with his name. over and over.

you didn’t look. not again. not when you already knew what it said. hey. i think we should see other people. as if you were a choice. as if you hadn’t spent over a year giving him every soft piece of yourself.

around you, campus was still alive. students rushing between classes, headphones in, laughing like the world hadn’t just ended. you blinked up at the sky, jaw clenched, trying to stop the burning behind your eyes, but it didn’t work. the tears came anyway. hot. stupid. relentless. you didn’t even notice the footsteps.

“uh…”

you froze.

you didn’t lift your head. didn’t say anything. maybe if you stayed perfectly still, whoever it was would walk away. but the footsteps stopped, and after a beat, the voice came again.

“are you… good?”

you sniffed. didn’t even bother looking. “do i sound good?”

a pause. then: “no. i mean, not like… bad. just, like, not okay. which is totally fair. um. shit.”

you finally glanced up.

jeon jungkook.

seriously?

he stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, wearing a half-zipped hoodie and gray sweatpants, hair still damp like he’d just left the gym. he looked like he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. which would’ve been funny if you weren’t in the middle of crying your eyes out.

you wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie and looked away. “it’s fine. you can go.”

he didn’t.

instead, he just… stayed.

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, voice softer now.

you shook your head. “not really.”

he nodded. “cool. i hate talking.”

the silence that followed wasn’t as awkward as it should’ve been. weirdly, it almost helped. like just knowing someone was there made it a little easier to breathe. you reached for your phone and shoved it into your pocket without checking it. another vibration buzzed through the fabric.

“was it… boyfriend stuff?” he asked carefully.

your throat tightened. you hated how saying it out loud made it feel real. “ex-boyfriend,” you muttered. “he broke up with me. in a text.”

jungkook winced. “ouch. that’s rough.”

“yeah. we were together for over a year. and now i’m apparently not worth a conversation. just a text. ‘we should see other people.’ like we were on the same page or something.”

your voice cracked at the end and you hated that. you felt stupid and raw and so small it made your skin crawl. but jungkook didn’t laugh. he didn’t act weird. he just sat down next to you on the bench like it was the most normal thing in the world.

you blinked. “what are you doing?”

“sitting.”

“why?”

“because crying alone outside the humanities building kinda sucks,” he said, shrugging. “and also… i get it.”

you turned your head to look at him. “you’ve been dumped?”

“hell yeah. last week. she sent me a voice note. sixty-two seconds of vague reasons and weird passive-aggressive energy.”

you blinked. “a voice note?”

“yeah,” he said, sighing. “said i wasn’t posting her enough. that i didn’t match her ‘soft aesthetic’ or whatever. i think it was mostly about how i didn’t repost her birthday collage.”

you snorted. “tragic.”

“i know, right?”

and just like that, something shifted. it was tiny, but it was there. a shared kind of pain. quiet, bitter, weirdly funny in the way only heartbreak can be when it’s still fresh.

“what did you do after?” you asked.

he tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. “ate a whole pizza, listened to the weeknd for like four hours, and considered deleting instagram. didn’t, though.”

“strong of you.”

he grinned. “thanks.”

you stared at your shoes for a second, then glanced at him again. you’d never really talked to jungkook before. he was always surrounded by people, laughing and flirting and being way too hot to exist on campus. but right now, sitting next to you on this shitty cold bench, he looked… normal.

and then he said it.

“you know, we could fake date.”

you blinked. “what?”

“fake date. just for a little bit. make our exes jealous. get people talking. help us both save face.”

you stared at him, genuinely unsure if he was joking. “are you serious?”

“yeah,” he said casually. “you want revenge. i want revenge. seems efficient.”

“you are out of your mind.”

he laughed. “maybe. but you’re still listening.”

you opened your mouth to argue. then closed it. then opened it again. “what would even be the point?”

“you show up to class with me. i show up to practice with you. maybe post a couple cute pictures. if we really commit, they’ll spiral. and even if they don’t, at least we don’t look pathetic.”

you raised an eyebrow. “so your solution to being dumped… is pretending to date someone you don’t even know?”

“i mean, you know my name. that’s a start.”

“jungkook, this is actually the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”

“and yet,” he said, a little grin tugging at his lips, “you haven’t said no.”

you hated that he was right. because deep down, the thought of your ex seeing you smile in a blurry photo next to jungkook’s annoyingly perfect face… didn’t sound so bad.

“no kissing,” you said.

“duh.”

“no feelings.”

“please.”

“and no couple hashtags or matching bios or weird pet names.”

he held a hand to his heart. “i promise not to call you ‘baby’ unless absolutely necessary.”

you rolled your eyes. “i’ll think about it.”

he leaned back against the bench, still grinning. “that’s basically a yes.”

you didn’t answer. just looked out across the quad again, the ache in your chest a little quieter now. it was stupid. probably a terrible idea. but after days of crying and overthinking and feeling like nothing…

you didn’t say yes that day. not officially. you just let him walk you to your next class and didn’t push his hand away when he held open the door. you were too emotionally wrecked to think clearly, too exhausted to ask why jungkook kept glancing over like he was checking to see if you were okay. you didn’t smile. you didn’t flirt. but when he said “text me if you change your mind,” and tapped his number into your phone without asking, you didn’t delete it either.

you went home. you cried again. and then you stared at his contact in your phone for way too long.

you didn’t text him. not until the next day.

and it was just one word.

okay.

fifteen seconds later, he sent back a thumbs up and a photo of a heart-shaped cake with “welcome to the club” written in pink icing. under that: we ride at dawn

you didn’t know what the hell you were signing up for. but your chest didn’t feel as heavy. not that day.

by monday, everyone on campus thought you and jungkook were a thing.

you’d barely agreed to the plan and already he was committed like it was a full-time job. he met you outside your lecture like it was natural, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, black hoodie pulled over his head like he hadn’t slept. he gave you this casual little smirk and nodded toward the door.

“ready to ruin your ex’s week?”

you stared at him. “do i have a choice?”

“nope.”

he grabbed your hand before you could argue. not tight, not overly performative, just enough that you felt it. enough that your heart did something weird in your chest that you definitely ignored.

inside the lecture hall, you could feel the stares. eyes flicking toward you both, whispers under breath, someone literally gasping in the second row when jungkook dropped into the seat next to you and leaned in to say something about how hot it was inside.

he didn’t even say anything flirty. he just sat close and sipped your iced coffee like it was already his.

and that’s how it started.

no big announcement. no full plan. just… him beside you. walking you to class. tagging you in memes. sending you goodnight selfies with captions like sleep tight, fake gf. your ex saw it. obviously. people talk.

and jungkook made sure he saw more.

“you free after class?” he asked one afternoon, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, the air cool enough to make your breath fog a little.

“why?”

“impromptu photo op. we’re going for the 'soft campus couple' aesthetic. it’s important for believability.”

you narrowed your eyes. “this is really about your instagram, isn’t it.”

he grinned. “maybe a little.”

you ended up sitting with him under a tree behind the arts building, sharing a smoothie and pretending to laugh at something on his phone while he took sneaky candids. he picked the one where you were looking down and smiling, your hair falling over your face, and captioned it lucky me with a white heart.

the post got 472 likes in an hour.

your ex didn’t like it, but his new situationship blocked you on everything later that night, so. win.

“we’re literally evil,” you muttered the next day as you scrolled through your dms.

“evil’s fun,” jungkook said, throwing an arm over your shoulders as he walked you to class. “you’re just new to it.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t push him off.

and maybe that’s when things started to shift.

not in a huge way. not all at once. just little things.

like how he’d always buy an extra iced americano and wordlessly hand it to you. or how he’d lean in close to say something stupid and stay there just a second too long. or the way his thumb would brush against yours when he held your hand for “fake couple reasons” but didn’t let go even after no one was watching.

you didn’t talk about it.

you didn’t think about it either. not really. not until that wednesday afternoon when he looked at you during your stupid “pretend to be a couple at lunch” moment and said, completely unprompted,

“you’re actually kind of cute when you’re annoyed.”

you froze.

your heart jumped, and not in the soft warm way. it was more like a jolt. a reminder. that this wasn’t real. wasn’t supposed to be anything. and the worst part? he didn’t even say it in a flirty way. he just looked at you like he meant it and then went back to eating fries like it was normal.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

so you ignored it.

until it kept happening.

on friday, he grabbed your hand in the middle of a party.

you didn’t even see him coming. one second you were standing with some friends, sipping from a red cup and doing your best to seem chill and unbothered. the next, jungkook appeared out of nowhere, wrapped an arm around your waist, and kissed your temple like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“sorry i’m late,” he murmured in your ear. “had to find parking.”

you blinked up at him. “we didn’t even come together.”

“don’t ruin the narrative,” he whispered, eyes glittering with mischief.

and then, because of course he did, he turned to your ex across the room and waved.

like. actually waved.

you nearly choked on your drink. “jungkook-”

“he’s looking,” he whispered again, lips brushing your ear. “act natural.”

so you did.

you slipped your hand into his. leaned your head against his shoulder. smiled at nothing. laughed at something he didn’t even say.

and when the music shifted and the lights dimmed and the room melted into bodies and noise, he pulled you into the corner and kept his hand on the small of your back like he’d always known you.

your heart beat a little too fast. not from the alcohol. not from the plan.

from him.

you didn’t say anything.

he didn’t either.

but when he leaned his forehead against yours and said, so quiet you almost missed it,

“you’re doing really good at pretending,”

you wondered for the first time if either of you were pretending at all.

the next few days were confusing in the way dreams are confusing. everything looked the same, felt mostly the same, but something had shifted under the surface and you couldn’t stop noticing it.

jungkook was still your fake boyfriend. technically. but now he was also the first person you thought to text when something funny happened. or when a song came on that made you feel a little too much. or when you caught your reflection and felt stupidly alone.

he didn’t make it weird. he just rolled with it. sent you memes. selfies with his hair a mess. weird voice notes of him singing off-key in the car. nothing serious. nothing loaded. but it made your chest feel weird anyway.

“how’s my fake girlfriend doing today?” he asked on tuesday, flopping down beside you on the library lawn like he belonged there.

you barely looked up from your notes. “emotionally unstable and caffeine dependent, as always.”

he smiled. “my dream girl.”

you nudged his knee with yours and tried not to react to how easy it felt now. how normal.

maybe that was the problem.

you were getting used to it. used to him. to the fake relationship that didn’t feel all that fake anymore.

by wednesday, you were spiraling in your own head. things were getting blurry. and when things got blurry, you ran.

so you did what you always did when your heart started acting up, you shut down. slowly, carefully, almost like you didn’t want him to notice. but of course he did.

you didn’t laugh as loud. didn’t text back as fast. didn’t let your hand linger in his when he reached for you in the hallway. you were still there. still playing the part. but it felt thinner now, like a wall you were trying to build before everything fell apart.

on thursday afternoon, it all caught up with you.

you were both sitting in the student center, pretending to do homework and mostly sharing a cookie that neither of you admitted you wanted first. the sun was slanting through the windows just right, making everything feel soft and slow.

he leaned back in his chair and said it so casually it almost didn’t register.

“so… are you mad at me or what?”

you blinked. “what?”

he tilted his head. his hair was a little messy, his sleeves pushed up. he looked so relaxed, like this wasn’t already making your lungs tighten.

“you’ve been weird,” he said simply. “distant.”

you turned back to your laptop. “i’ve just been busy.”

he didn’t push. didn’t sigh or roll his eyes. he just waited.

and when you didn’t say anything for a long time, he spoke again. quieter this time.

“you wanna talk about it?”

you closed your laptop slowly and looked at him.

“i think maybe we should chill with the fake dating stuff for a bit.”

his eyebrows twitched. “you mean… take a break?”

you hated how he said that. like it was real. like it actually hurt.

“not a break. just… i think it’s getting too close to real. and that’s not what we signed up for, right?”

he didn’t answer right away. just nodded, mouth tight like he was trying not to say the wrong thing.

“you’re still my fake girlfriend though, yeah?” he said after a second. “you’re not firing me?”

you smiled, just a little. “no. you’re still on contract.”

“good,” he said. “because i make a damn good fake boyfriend. ask anyone.”

you let out a soft laugh. “seriously.”

his voice gentled. “i know. i get it. we can take it slow.”

and for once, he didn’t make it into a joke. he just leaned back again, his fingers tracing the edge of the table, and looked out the window like he needed a second.

you stared at him. tried to figure out what was going on behind his eyes. but he didn’t give anything away. he never did.

“thank you,” you said after a while.

“anytime.”

and that should’ve been the end of it. that should’ve been enough.

but that night, lying in bed with your phone screen glowing beside you, you stared at the last thing he texted you:

let me know when you’re ready to go back to full chaos. my fake boyfriend powers are ready.

and your heart did something it wasn’t supposed to do.

by friday, things had settled into a quieter rhythm.

not in a bad way, just different. you and jungkook still sat together in lectures, shared snacks between classes, and sometimes your knees would brush under the table. neither of you pulled away, but the urgency had softened. it felt like you were both giving each other space without saying it out loud.

maybe that was what you needed.

from crying on a bench to playing the part of a couple on campus, you’d forgotten how to sit still with your feelings. slowing down wasn’t a step back, it was a chance to breathe.

he never pushed you. when your hand slipped away, he didn’t ask why. when you sat a little further apart, he didn’t tease or complain. but he was still there. sending good luck texts before quizzes, sharing half his sandwich when you forgot yours, or texting dumb photos of his cat with silly captions that made you smile more than you expected.

one afternoon, as you both waited for the next class, he nudged you gently. “you doing okay?” he asked, voice softer than usual.

you looked at him, the weight of everything still there but a little lighter now. “yeah. better than i was.”

he smiled. real, not fake. and reached out to squeeze your hand once. just once.

“good,” he said.

you found yourself watching jungkook more than you expected. not in the “i’m crushing hard” kind of way, because you’d sworn off all that, but in a quieter way. like noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed or the way he always tucked his hair behind his ear when he was thinking.

it was strange how someone you barely knew could start feeling so familiar. how the space beside you wasn’t empty anymore, even when you weren’t holding hands or pretending to be a couple for the camera.

one saturday, you met up at the campus coffee shop, not for any plan or social media stunt, just because jungkook said he needed to “study” and you needed an excuse to get out of your dorm.

you showed up fifteen minutes late and found him already there, laptop open, earbuds in. he looked up and grinned when he saw you, pulling one earbud out.

“fashionably late,” he teased.

you slid into the seat across from him, rubbing your hands around the warm mug of chai he’d ordered for you. “study mode?”

“barely,” he admitted, flashing you a crooked smile. “mostly just trying to survive midterms.”

you laughed softly, the sound catching you off guard. it felt easy to be around him, like you could almost forget this was all fake. almost.

for a while, you just sat there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other. the noise of the busy coffee shop faded into the background, like you were in your own little bubble.

then jungkook shut his laptop with a snap.

“okay, serious question,” he said, leaning forward. “how long do you think we can keep this up?”

you blinked. “keep what up?”

“the fake thing. the pretending. the whole ‘we’re together to piss off our exes’ circus.”

you bit your lip, considering.

“i don’t know,” you said finally. “longer than i expected, honestly.”

he nodded, eyes darkening a little.

“me too.”

there was a pause.

“do you ever think about what comes next?” he asked quietly.

you swallowed, feeling the air grow thick.

“not really,” you admitted. “i’m scared. and honestly, it feels easier to just keep pretending than to deal with what ‘real’ might mean.”

he looked down at his hands, fingers tracing patterns on the table.

“yeah,” he said. “me too.”

you shared a look that didn’t need words.

later, when you walked out together under the early evening sky, the world suddenly felt colder and bigger and so full of things you weren’t ready to face.

“so,” jungkook said, breaking the silence. “should we try to keep this fake thing a little longer?”

you looked up at him, your breath visible in the chilly air.

“yeah,” you said softly. “i think we should.”

he smiled, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and makes your chest tighten.

“good. because i’m not done being your fake boyfriend.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled back.

“neither am i being your fake girlfriend.”

the days after that felt lighter. not perfect, but lighter. like the weight on your chest had loosened just enough for you to breathe without thinking about it every second.

jungkook kept showing up in those small ways, the text at noon to check if you’d eaten, the way he always remembered your coffee order, the quiet way he waited for you after class without making it a thing.

one afternoon, you caught him staring at you during a lecture, and when your eyes met, he just smirked and mouthed, “fake couple.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

sometimes, when you weren’t looking, you caught yourself wondering if the line between fake and real was getting blurrier than it should.

but you pushed that thought away.

for now, it was enough to have him there, to have someone who understood the messy parts without needing explanations.

when you walked out of class one day, he grabbed your hand again.

not because it was part of the plan, but just because.

ribbon banner creds - @cursed-carmine

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (interlude (part 7))

Next part of the Incredibles au swap fic lets gooooo. Checking in on what Sky’s doing! This one is a sort of break before the more dramatic ending chapters we’re getting to, so enjoy the moment of chill before things get crazy again lol.

People who voted on that poll ages ago for Sky to get a break... here you go XD

First | Previous | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Sky was supposed to be relaxing.

He looked up at his namesake, a cool breeze tousling his bangs, and sighed as some puffy clouds drifted by, trying not to think about what most of his extended family was doing. None of them had contacted him with any report of trouble, but they were all storming an illegal lab without him, stated several times to be dangerous, and Sky couldn’t help but worry.

And I could be helping them...

Sun looked over at him as she spread out a blanket on the grass, but Sky barely noticed, still staring up at the clouds. His thoughts were running rampant with things that might happen without him there, and it wasn’t until Sun came over and poked him that he snapped out of it.

“Link,” she said in a chiding voice.

He sighed. “I know, I know, I’m worrying. I just... I don’t know Zel, I feel bad about not helping,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “It just feels...”

“Weird?” she offered, and Sky sighed again as he nodded. “I know, I agree. But Time specifically said they’d contact us if they needed help. We’re the backup plan.”

Sky looked at her and smiled, reaching out to lightly tap her middle. “You mean I’m the backup plan. You’re carrying triplets and are not going anywhere.”

Sun scowled, and gave him a light swat. “I’m not due for a while yet, I could handle punching a few unethical scientists.”

“Yeah, I guess. So long as they were slow ones.”

Sun crossed her arms with a foul look, and Sky grinned, giving her an apologetic kiss.

“Sorry my love, you walked right into it.”

“Ha ha. I’ll consider forgiving you if you come sit and stop worrying,” she said, poking his nose. “We’re here to relax, remember?”

“Right, right... sorry.”

Sky let Sun take his hand in hers, and she pulled him over to the blanket, Aryll squealing as she ran through the grass nearby. Sky smiled as he watched her sit down next to the river nearby, easily in view of him and Sun, and began chirping hellos to the birds in the trees around her.

Sun sat down on the blanket she’d spread out, and Sky couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted back to the rest of his family. He had no idea what they were doing, whether they were okay or not, if things were going well... Four was still so young, all of his nephews were, and he didn’t know—

“Sky.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he drooped, looking guiltily at Sun.

“Hey. I’m worried too. But unless we need to worry about them, why don’t we do what we came here to do?” Sun said gently, and Sky exhaled.

“You wouldn’t think relaxing would be so hard,” he chuckled weakly, and Sun leaned on his shoulder.

“It can be. But that’s why we’re here, to just take it easy for a while,” she said with a smile, and sat back down. “We’re just here to sit by the water, or watch some clouds, or... pet ducks, like Aryll.”

“Is she really?” Sky asked, then gulped as he turned to look at her. Several large white birds were gathered around Aryll, their heads bobbing as they followed every move she made. They weren’t acting antagonistic, merely curious, and Sky heard Aryll giggle. “...Those are swans actually.”

Sun didn’t quite succeed in muffling her laugh. “Oh boy. Well, so long as she doesn’t take any home.”

“Please no, I don’t want a repeat of the geese incident,” Sky groaned, and Sun truly laughed that time, falling back on the grass.

“You looked so funny covered in all those feathers though. It was like you’d molted early.”

Sky huffed, joining her on the grass and setting his head on her lap when she sat up to lean against a tree. “Ha ha. You weren’t laughing so hard when we had to vacuum everything up, as I recall.”

Sun’s face turned cross, and Sky laughed, even when his wife plucked a dandelion and blew the seeds at his face.

Their laughter eventually faded, and Sky and Sun watched the clouds as they drifted by, the sound of the river behind them mixing with Aryll’s laughter. Sky’s eyes slipped closed as Sun began to play with his hair, and he breathed out a slow sigh, feeling calmer while he rested against her.

Sun was right. They were here to relax, and he would do his best to do that.

I used to be so good at just lazing around, he thought wryly, distant memories of being teased as a kid for having his head in the clouds drifting through his memory. Even as an adult Sky was known as being somewhat feather-headed, but ever since the island, relaxing had... not come easily. He did often find himself tired and wanting to sleep, possibly more so then he did before the island, but relaxing wasn’t the same as that.

It was just... hard to turn off his sense of danger.

It was better than it had been at least. When Sky had first come back, he could barely sleep at all despite his exhaustion, and found it nearly impossible to turn off his hyper-vigilant nerves. But even now he still found it hard to just... take it easy. Not worry about anything. Not have to constantly deal with life-or-death matters, and pay for a lapse in attention with his life.

But he was getting there. And despite how hard it had been spending over a year clinging desperately to survival, dealing with the fallout, relearning how to live normally again... making it to moments like this, his daughter’s laughter in the air while he laid next to his beautiful wife, her fingers gently playing with his hair... it had been worth it.

Every bit.

Sky hazarded a look up at Sun, still playing with his hair as she watched Aryll talk with the birds. The dappled sunlight that filtered through the tree made her hair glow, even pulled back like it was at the moment, and the few strands that had whisked loose of the style she’d pulled the rest of it into brushed her jaw when the breeze tickled them.

Sun must have felt his gaze, for she looked back at him, smiling as bright as her nickname as their eyes met. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t need to.

Sky shifted his position to be able to look at her better, then glanced at Sun’s middle, feeling a rush of fondness as he gently set a hand on the raised part. He could feel a light kicking in there, and smiled as he felt the tiny movements.

“Have you thought more about names?” he asked as Sun let out an oof at the kicking, pausing to rub her middle before going back to idly braiding his hair.

“I was thinking maybe some that were related to each other would be nice,” she said with a hum. “Nothing overly theme-y, but just a little something.”

Sky hummed, and was quiet a moment as Sun kept braiding. “Well if they’re boys... how about Reddy, Will, and Abel?”

Sun paused. “...Why those?”

Sky couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. “So that whenever we agree to go somewhere, we can say that they’re ready, willing, and able.”

Sun groaned, and Sky cackled, still laughing when she poked him with her elbow.

“Time certainly passed on his dad jokes,” she snorted, and Sky smiled up at her.

“Yep, him and my Dad. Time’s have always been worse though.”

“That bad, huh?”

Sky nodded, chuckling as he thought back to some of Time’s worst jokes. “I know exactly where Wild got his love of puns from.”

Sun chuckled, and it was quiet between them again for a moment as she finished the braid. Sky heard a distant splash, and Aryll’s laughter rang through the air.

“You know, if there’s a boy... I was maybe thinking Crimson would be a nice name,” Sun suddenly spoke up, her voice soft. Sky looked at her in surprise.

“Really? Why?”

“Because of you, silly. Your hero name. And your father’s,” she said more quietly, and Sky felt his throat tighten rather suddenly.

“Oh. Yeah, that... that’s nice,” Sky whispered. He couldn’t quite get out what he wanted to say, but Sun understood, running her hand along his ear as she smiled.

Crimson Blade had been his father’s hero name, and Sky had taken the first part for his own in memory of him. The thought of also naming one of their kids after him wasn’t one he’d ever even thought of, but...

He liked it.

Sky took her hand in his, and she twined their fingers together, silence drifting between them for a moment.

“Do you have any more ideas?” Sky asked after he’d gotten more ahold of himself. “That’s only one out of three. Maybe if there’s a girl we can call her Songbird?”

“Might be a tad suspicious along with Crimson,” Sun replied with a smile. “If we really want a nod to it, then something like Lyric or Melody might be better.”

“Those are nice,” Sky agreed. “Oh hey, maybe if there’s a boy we can name him Link.”

Sun groaned dramatically. “Another one? Really?”

“It runs in the family, Zelda! We have to!”

She gave him a look. “Only if we can’t think of anything better. You know we don’t need more Links.”

Sky grinned, but he couldn’t help but think of the rest of his family again at the name. His smile faded, and Sun noticed, giving his hand a squeeze.

“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I just wish we could help them,” Sky murmured, wishing he hadn’t been left behind, wishing he was there and fighting beside his family. Sun hummed thoughtfully, looking at the sky.

“Maybe we can.”

“Oh?” Sky said in interest, and Sun tapped her chin as she thought.

“Not in the fighting sense. But there are other ways to be helpful. Maybe we could go to Time and Malon’s place and get things ready for when they return,” she said. “Get medical supplies out, and make some dinner for them. And then whenever they all get back, they don’t have to do as much.”

Sky nodded eagerly in agreement, feeling a little burst of excitement. Finally, a way to help! “That’s a great idea. When do you want to go?”

Sun laughed. “Slow down, Link. Let’s enjoy things here first. Then we can go. We have plenty of time.”

Sky nodded, a little sheepishly, and they both relaxed again, silence drifting over them. An undercurrent of eagerness to help ran through him, but he did his best to set it aside for now, and properly relax.

They would help out, but first... they would rest.

Sky closed his eyes with a slow breath out. He breathed in again slowly, taking in the faint perfume of the flowers in the tree above them, and the grass and water in the breeze that brushed his face.

It really was a gorgeous afternoon.

Several quiet minutes went by, Sky lightly dozing, Sun still playing with his hair. A squeal and some louder footsteps eventually roused him though, and he opened his eyes to see Aryll charge up, her dress damp at the bottom, a grin on her face.

“Look!” Aryll said proudly, and Sky stared at the large frog in her muddy hands. “A heron showed me how to catch frogs, look look!”

“Wow, very nice,” Sky said with a smile, and he heard Sun muffle a laugh.

Aryll wiggled happily. “Watch this! If I do a— oops!”

The frog leapt out of her hands, and landed on Sky’s head, making him startle upwards. The frog went flying off of him as he straightened, and Sun yelped as it scrambled across her dress in its scramble to get away. Aryll shrieked happily as it leapt into the grass, and she ran after it as it hopped frantically away.

Sky wiped some mud off his head, Sun staring down at her now-damp and dirty clothes, and they met eyes.

“...On the other hand, maybe we should leave sooner,” Sun said, an exasperated smile twitching at her lips.

Sky just laughed.

[modelxis]

Do you have any mmzx oc?

I do, actually! you can check the mmzx oc in my search tag (i should make a separate tags for OCs and my arts on this blog)

tbh, i can't really say much💦

Not that i want to keep them as secret, more like my head is a messy place, even i forgot details from times to times Also like, i tend to re-use NPCs and give them roles...so...saying they are my OCs are... not correct😅

well, i can give you a quick run down about them here if you're interested in reading my messy writing

🛵Giro Express transporter

these two are the one so far that i'm fine with the designs (they are adopts from @/noeggets (go check them out, really cool artist) these aren't their real names, rather code-names that they used to hide their true identities, or precisely their old past 🛵Blue-hair girl is Mint, she focus on communicating with customers and all the paper works jobs, she good at hacking, has trouble with addiction which confuse a lot of people cuz' why a Reploid has that sort of problem, she actually exists since mmz era, and know Rouge, the operator of the Resistance. She was one of few people that works inside NA and help the Resistance by giving coordination to Rouge so Zero can have a safe transportation into certain areas. 🛵Purple hair girl is Campanula (the flower, Canterbury bells), a human (she is in mid 20s, just very short) , mainly works in storage, she is a skilled mechanic so she tend to helps with fixing the vehicles, mainly Aile because Aile tend to go into far more restricted-dangerous zones, sometimes the Guardian base would require her helps, despite her cheerfulness and outgoing attitude at first glance, she has troubles express her true thoughts and critics unless she feel comfortable around you.

(not final design) 🛵His name is Tomi, Yes, he count as an employees, he "disguise" himself as a motorcycle for delivering, mainly Aile use him. a mavericks gone "rouge" cuz' he got effected by the virus which was made by Campanula, it's not that he became more docile or kind, altho Campanula made sure he is incapable of attacking specifically her, he just...become more self-aware of his existence and decided that he prefer using his skill for st else other than be treated as a secondary mini-boss. He does genuinely like Campanula due to her carefulness when its come to machines, even to Mavericks like him. Other than her, Aile is another one that he also like because she impressed him with her riding skills (think of all the stunt from GTA video games) which lead to him admiring human tendency to seek danger as some sort of fun challenges. (he is one of the few OCs that i considered to be the oldest cuz' i had this concept for a long time ever since i played mmz)

(not final design, also thank you @/tyrantchimera for the sketch! Check their blog out, they are both cool artist and writer) 🛵Her name is Lake, she named it herself (or you can say OP is very uncreative when it comes to naming, lol) Another Mavericks gone "rouge", she became docile when failed to fully control Model L. she is one of few test subjects for Serpent to check how he can manipulate Ciel's biometals for his troops, Leviathan's subconscious "convinced" Lake to turn good which she success and Lake managed to escaped Serpent's controls but failed to take model L with her. She encountered Aile post-Ouroboros downfall, helping to pinpoint the leftover pieces of model Ws to ensure they stayed dead. (Aile didn't reveal Vent who was helping them finding the pieces, why tho? no idea currently, lol...) Then later on, she was saved by Aile and worked as some sort of submarine to transport packages and all sort of heavy stuffs across sea.

❌Others

(not the final design) This old Reploid guy is Leo (funny enough, he is "younger" than Mint) He was made around the same time as Prometheus and Pandora (he doesn't know them but aware of their reputation) but instead of staying youthful, he remain as old (simply for aesthetic choice, "old-looking people are cool") He is a skilled mechanic, also a trader for rare parts and "illegal" equipments for people who don't want Legion's eyes on them (especially with the news about Master Albert gone Mavericks, lots more people been looking into this type of service)

Well, these are the one that has designs I have a loooot more, but they are all from a long time ago, and i do wish i can find those old papers again but not like i will reuse the designs.

well, i hope some of these make sense if you managed to read it all.

[sockdooe]

FUCK YOU VOLTRON LEGENDARY DEFENDER!!!!!!!!!!!! I SHOULD NOT BE CRYING AT DAMN NEAR MIDNIGHT CAUSE OF YOUR FAILURE OF A SHOW ASS 🖕

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

Hey did I ever tell y'all about the time I dreamed that I had a baby daughter called Ellie that began with my finding out I was pregnant and ended on like her third birthday?

I legitimately woke up thinking "I should go check on Ellie" and then realised she was never real and when I tell you I SOBBED. I've been haunted by an implacable sense of loss ever since. Did I travel to another dimension? Wtf happened because that was insane.

[ismyteadoneyet]

.

[boygirlctommy]

i madeeee sillay new characters and i love them

[automatic-midnight]

My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.

[invinciblerodent]

Oh, this Guardian introduction scene is a lot more impactful and confusing if they look like someone your character has very strong ties to, but never wants to see again, than if it's a random hot buff tiefling lady.

So... for this run I made them look like Herric, Iona's "ex"-husband. (I mean, technically they're still married, kind of. I suppose if you mutually try to kill one another with fire and an axe respectively, and then flee into the wilderness not knowing if he's dead or alive but at the same time not even caring and just starting to use your maiden name without a secodn thought, that oughta count as something of a divorce.)

This person, he wears the scar she gave him that last time, that shining burn that stretches and twists across his face... the last image that she ever saw of him as she fled into the woods. That fury, and pain, and murderous intent had etched itself into her memory, to the point that on the rare occasions she is forced to recall his face, this is what she sees: bubbled, gnarled flesh, either raw and gleaming as if it had been polished, or healed over with new skin to take its place, as it would be by now, and a once-handsome face, now distorted in contempt.

This person... they're his spitting image, but they are a stranger nonetheless. She had known Herric practically her whole life, lived with him, shared his bed for over half of it, and their voice, their movements... they're all wrong. They (he?) wear Herric's face, but they seem to have none of his ignorance, his temper, his virulent hatred of all that is magical, arcane... indeed, they chuckle at her immediate hostility, offer her kindness, don't look at her with disgust, desire, or dread, and they command great magics that leave her equal parts awed and terrified.

She doesn't trust a single word out of this creature's mouth. She doesn't want, or doesn't want to need his help. She doesn't want to think about his words, or how he may or may not be the reason she's not a monster yet.

... And talking to Astarion in the morning about these things, it also leaves her with mixed feelings. Sure, to be called an "utter drip" who "hates good news" and to be asked if she has some sort of condition forcing her to "spoil his fun" does make it all feel a bit less daunting and more ridiculous, it kind of clears her head, and his theatrical bristling that makes him seem almost like he's a big, wet bird puffing his feathers makes it difficult not to smile, but... she can't tell him why exactly this has her so shaken. They're not at that level yet, if they're ever going to be.

At this point, they're not exactly "please console me and let me feel safe when my past unearths itself from its grave like some sort of grotesque zombie and comes back to haunt me" type of a thing, they're more of a "let's fuck in the woods and tell each other heavily abbreviated stories about ourselves that more or less omit all the parts that would paint us in less favorable lights" thing.

Honestly, she kind of hates that in this fragile state, she finds herself wanting not only his touch, or a cordial conversation, but his comfort, too.

(In due time, that.)

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've seen a good number of people ask a question along the lines of "why do characters like Falin and hate Laios when they're so similar?" and i've also seen good analysis on the differences in how the touden siblings carry themselves that would, despite their shared traits, make a person gravitate to one more than the other.

But i feel like we've overseen one very central thing here.

People don't like Falin

Like... the average person in dungeon meshi doesn't like Falin. She was deeply ostrasized by her home village, in magic school she had zero friends before Marcille and the others generally saw her as strange and a bit offputting.

Characters like Namari and Chilchuck like her well enough but not necessarily more than any other member of their party, including Laios. Neither Kabru nor his party think much of her. The canaries don't give a fuck about her. Toshiro's retainers don't see her as anything else than the weird foreign girl their boss has a crush on.

The reason we think everyone loves Falin is because, despite all the indifferent side characters, the 2 most important and central characters of the story are Laios and Marcille. Who are NOT representative of the average attitudes to Falin! But necromancy georg number 1 and 2 are our main eyes into the story and they love Falin so much that it colours our perspective of the whole world.

The only side character who qualifies as liking Falin and not Laios is Toshiro (at least at first, as he ends the story on much better terms with Laios) and that says a lot about his character, with him drifting to the quiet Falin precisely because of her oddness but being both uncomfortable with and deeply jealous of Laios' much more open expression of that oddness. Because he's a repressed guy from a culture where etiquette is incredibly important.

But like I said, that's a specific aspect of him, not to the world at large.

Because there's also people that click more with laios than with Falin.

Kabru, for one, who is initially distrustful of laios but clearly also deeply fascinated by him and drawn to him.

Minor spoilers, and you don't have to read too deeply into this, because I don't think Kabru particularly dislikes Falin or anything. But it's interesting that when he talks about his distrust of the toudens in ch.32 he's talking about them both. But his big friendship declaration in chapter 76 is aimed squarely at Laios, he doesn't say "you and your sister" he says "you"

And Senshi!! He instantly clicks with Laios, well before he does so with anyone else in the party– who he also becomes friends with, it just takes a bit longer– specifically because they bond over their shared special interest in monsters!! Senshi is kind towards Falin and cares for her wellbeing, but he also... doesn't know her. The reason he is even here, helping to save her, is because he and Laios bonded over monsters and he wants to help his new friends out!

Of course, the theme of neurodivergent isolation is very present in Laios' story. I'm not denying that. He does turn people off, without meaning to and unable to fully understand why! But so does Falin. And just like there are people who like her despite of or even because of those traits, there are people who do the same with him.

In conclusion: "Average person loves Falin and hates Laios" factoid actually statistical error. Average person is neutral on both Falin and Laios. Georcille, Laiorg and Geoshiro, who live in the dungeon and think over 10,000 Falin-loving thoughts a day, are statistical outliers adn should not have been counted.