#im joking but this really is so fascinating to me. that there is this almost mutual sort of love between ralsei and players who like him

[infizero]

any time u say ralsei is cute or sweet or whatever ur playing right into his trap btw. not ralsei’s trap, toby’s

[cashmere-caveman]

once again i am here (being human s3 finale) and let me just say. mitchells death scene is actually all of them exchanging marriage vows

[jyoongim]

Alastors lover who is such small happy thing, always smiling but not like alastor creepy way, and who always dot on alastor and babies him. She never really got scared of him and always looks at him in awe in his demon form.

Think it would be amusing, hell even he would find it amusing such a small thing fussing and being overprotective on him.

You were quite a pleasant addition to the hotel. 

Unlike your partner, you were sweet and helpful.

Alastor thought your presence would ease the frazzled nerves of the residents if you were by his side.

You always wore a smile on your face, it wasn’t like Alastor’s ever present and malicious smile. 

It was genuine.

It was interesting to see how you and Alastor interacted.

The Overlord didnt mind your touches and fretting. He let you do what you please.

The two of you were polar opposites.

But opposite attract…and in those case it was just fascinating.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Humming a soft tune as you cooked.

Most of the residents weren’t picky eaters and they loved your cooking, so you prepared something that everyone would like.

Once you finished everyone’s dinner, you started on making Alastor’s.

Alastor had rather peculiar tastes.

The kitchen filled with the residents as the smell of food wafted through the hotel.

You already had their plates prepared and dressed. Multiple voices chirped with appreciative remarks as they dug in.

Your smile widened when soft static filled the air, a feathery touch wrapped around you before Alastor’s voice greeted your ears.

”Morning doll! Dont you look hellish today” 

Your big doe eyes turned to greet his sharp ones.

“Good morning Al. Take a seat, Im almost done cookinng”

The tall red demon hummed as he took a seat at the table.

His ears flicked as you approach with a steaming plate.

”I hope you like it. Im not sure of the taste. I’ve never cooked flesh before but it looked a bit like sausage so I think it’ll be ok”

You heard several gags.

Alastor waved you off, picking up a fork “Oh I’m sure its fine. Your cooking ain’t ever failed me yet���

You finally took a seat to enjoy your own plate.

You chatted with the gang. Laughing at Angel’s jokes and agreeing with Charlie’s plans and offering advice for the day and talking with Vaggie.

Once dinner was over, everyone went about their night.

It was only you and Alastor left.

He sighed as he finished his food. “You have quite a way in the kitchen my dear. Dinner was delicious”

You giggled, taking his plate to wash.

The two of you chatted as you washed the dishes. He slithered behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his head settled on your shoulder.

The two of you stood there in bliss until you finished and turned around.

“Why don’t you listen in on a broadcast tonight? Im sure you’ll find it entertaining” he chuckled.

You smiled as he escorted you to his radio tower.

———————————————————————-

“Alastor you need to see the tailor. Look at this!” You scowled as you held up his tail coat. The ends were raggedy, it was missing a button or two, and needed a few adjustments.

Alastor chuckled “I will make time to visit when Im out today”

You shook your head “No ill do it. You have a meeting today so don’t worry” Alastor’s brows raised “Then what am I to wear dear?”

You rummaged through the closet and pulled out another jacket. 

Alastor’s shadow wrapped around you, purring happily as you helped Alastor get ready.

Once he was properly dressed he bided you a goodbye before you stopped him.

You held his tie ”You’re not dressed properly. You want to be fully dress to terrorize the masses”

You smiled as you began to tie his bow tie around his neck. Alastor tilted his head as he watched you. You were much smaller compared to the demon. He watched as you focused on your task and mumble to yourself. You were so cute. Such a sweet soul you were. Fretting over a powerful Overlord.

Once in place, you fluffed it out and soothed out any wrinkles in his attire.

You beamed once you took a step back and admired your work. “There all ready and fashionable”

Alastor looked in the mirror and smiled at your work.

While he usually dressed in red, you had put him in black. You tucked a red handkerchief in his breast pocket and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Static popped and buzzed affectionately and before he could pull you into him, you pushed him to the door. “Now off with you. You have a busy day”

—————————————————————————-

Your small fame stood in front of Alastor as a sinner pulled his knife. You were growling and your hair swirled around you as your demonic form appeared.

The sinner laughed “Tsk! What man need a woman to defend him? Haha! Why don’t you settle down sweetheart hmm? After I kill this loser I can show you what a real man is like” he said suggestively, making your eyes narrow.

A large hand touched your shoulder “I can handle this dear” the sinner’s eyes widened as Alastor transformed and went to scream, but inky, black tentacles shot out from behind you to grab the demon.

Alastor stalked past you and tore into the demon, ripping him apart.

While most found Alastor’s demon form terrifying, you found it beautiful.

You watched as blood and limbs flew about, but you focused on Alastor.

He had grew twice his size, black antlers flared out and tall, deep growls and manic laughter erupted from his chest.

He sighed and patted himself down as he turned his nose up at the mess. Your hand skimmed his arm, to alert him of your presence. When he turned to you, blood covered his face. You lifted the hem of your dress and dapped it at his face, tutting “This face is too handsome to be covered in blood. You sure made a mess…Look at you! Its gonna take me forever to get these stains out” you huffed as you wiped his face clean. You smiled once he was clean. “Next time let m take care of it. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself or you if need be”

Alastor let out a chuckle, placing a claw under your chin. He leaned in to place a soft kiss to your lips

”You are very amusing my dear. Most cower in fear at my presence”

You rolled your eyes, lips curling wide “You don’t scare me Mr. Radio Demon” you leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around you and went about the day.

What a interesting little soul you were indeed.

[pastanest]

A/N: you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @bakedcrispss - thanks so much!! ♡

a gif of Daryl looking down at us to set the mood ⤵️

Daryl x Short!Reader

- let’s start with how you met

- so Daryl was out on a hunt when he heard some commotion, something was moving fast towards him and just as he realised which direction the sound was coming from, you quite literally ran into him

- and when you ran into him, you bounced back and fell right on your ass, while Daryl just scowled down at you

- so there you were, staring up at him

- and then you stood up, and there you were, still staring up at him

“Sum’ followin’ you?” Daryl asked, glancing off in the direction you’d ran from.

“Only dead ones, but my knife broke so I had to run to get them off my trail. Sorry about running into you.” The apology was awkward, but Daryl just nodded.

- he considered correcting you, sarcastically saying he should be the one apologising since he was apparently in your way and knocked you over, but he thought it was too soon for a dig at your height

- Daryl waited a few seconds to see if he could hear any walkers coming after you, and when he couldnt, he skulked off

- much to his surprise, you followed him, and he found that he could barely hear you creeping up behind him because of your lack of height and therefore heavy steps

“So, what’s your name?” You asked, definitely taking Daryl by surprise, but he hid it well.

“Daryl.” He answered shortly. haha y’all see what I did there

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daryl! Im (Y/N). Do you have a group or a place to stay? ‘Cause if not, there’s logically a better chance of us surviving if we stick together.”

- he didnt want anyone following him, much less someone who didnt even see a man directly in front of them that they then ran into. he didnt even know if you could handle yourself. Daryl assumed that what you really meant was you were more likely to survive sticking with him because he’d save your ass

“Got a group an’ a place.” He said, hoping to throw you off, but he quickly realised his own mistake.

“Oh, that’s great! Do you, uh...maybe have room for one more?”

- have room? Daryl had to hold back a laugh, you could live comfortably in the average sized closet and you were asking if his group had room for you?? he, again, refrained from making such comments, and decided to stay professional

“How many walkers you killed?”

“Havent kept count, but some. I can usually sneak away from them, Im pretty good at getting into small hiding places.”

- Daryl looked down at you, struggling to tell whether you were insecure about your height and whether making jokes would be okay, or whether you would get insulted and sad and think your height a weakness

- in response, you rolled your eyes

“Daryl, do you really think I’ve gone my entire life blissfully unaware of being a short-ass? It’s not something I can change, so I work with what I’ve got, but sometimes I run into dudes and knock myself on my ass.”

- and much to Daryl’s absolute shock, that last part made him laugh

“That a regular hobby o’ yers?” He teased.

“Oh yeah, try to squeeze a collision in at least once a month.” You replied with a grin.

- and so your friendship was established

- when the two of you got back to the prison, you saw the people at the gate and in the guard tower and sighed because you knew from a distance they’d think Daryl had brought back a kid

- still, the small group that greeted you were welcoming enough. Maggie and Glenn were both very sweet, and as was Rick, but you’re certain you werent the only one to notice that his teenage son Carl was almost the same height as you

- you fit into the prison nicely, offering to help out wherever you could and getting to know as many people as possible. Daryl was fascinated by how easily you seemed to make friends, especially since you made friends with him in a matter of seconds

- Daryl was your favourite person to hang out with, you loved asking him questions and finding out things about him. he was far from the most open person when it came to talking about himself, but when you’d stroll over and sit on his bike, kicking your legs in the air because you couldnt reach the ground and giving him that damn smile, Daryl found it increasingly difficult to resist giving you anything and everything you wanted

- he definitely had a soft spot for you, and at first he hated that

- you’d wave at him when he was up in the guard tower and before he could even consider his own response, he would be waving back at you with a stupid smile on his face like some friendly dumbass

- one time Rick was coming up behind you and caught sight of the way Daryl waved at you, so Rick waved up at him to tease him and Daryl flipped him off

- once you’d earned the group’s trust, it was difficult for them not to notice how useful your lack of height could be in certain situations

- whenever one of the kids got a toy stuck in an inconveniently tight space, you would be the adult they summoned

- but equally, when the group found a decently large herd of walkers that they wanted to lead away from the prison, they looked to you as the first person to run by them and get to the other side of the herd, because you were the least likely to be spotted

“Naw, ‘s not happenin’.” Daryl shook his head, and Rick sighed.

“It’s the smartest play, you know it is.”

You nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve got no problem with it. At the start if this thing, all I did was run and hide, it’s what Im good at.”

- Daryl scoffed and stormed off, not even slightly onboard with you being the one in the most dangerous position of that whole thing. he knew it was the best option, but he would rather anybody else took that job and you stayed home. Daryl couldnt understand why he was so angry at the thought of you being in danger, but worst of all...when had he started referring to the prison as ‘home’?

- obviously, you ran after the big bad angry crossbowman, and soon enough you were walking at his side

“Why have you always gotta walk so fast?! Takes a lot for these little legs to keep up, y’know!”

- a small smile curled at the corner of Daryl’s mouth, and you nudged him playfully

“That’s better. Now, you wanna tell me what that was all about?”

- Daryl shrugged, having never been one to put his feelings into words without Merle calling him a pussy before he’d even opened his mouth, but you wouldnt do that to him, Daryl knew that, so he tried

“Jus’ don’...don’ want you t’ be in danger.” He managed, and your eyes softened as they stared up at him.

“Daryl, you’ll be on the other side of the street-“

He cut you off by shaking his head. “Ain’ enough. Sum’ could still happen.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and he decided to test the water.

“Ain’ much t’ handle.”

- you were silent, and Daryl immediately regretted what he’d said. you stopped walking, and he turned to look at you, trying to piece together your reaction from how wide your eyes were

“Was that...a short joke?”

- Daryl could only nod, very quickly realising that this was neither the time nor the place to make a joke, the mood was completely off and he couldnt explain why he decided to do it if he tried

- but then, you burst out laughing

- once you’d calmed down, you explained to Daryl that you heard every short joke in existence throughout school, but once you became an adult the jokes died out, in the workplace it wasnt professional or whatever. but you missed the jokes even then, and when the world changed, there were even less of them. it had been years since anyone had made an actual joke about your height

- so, Daryl made it his mission to make playful jokes about it whenever he could after that

“Anyone seen (Y/N)?” He’d ask when you were standing right in front of him, he’d look over your head and pretend to look around for you until he couldnt resist glancing down at you and laughing.

“Rain’s eased up, gonna go out on a hunt, it’s hot out there now. But how’s the weather down there?” Of course, Daryl Dixon found a way to incorporate the classics.

“Best stay behin’ me, cant promise I wont think yer a mouse out there an’ shoot ya by mistake.” He teased whenever you walked next to him on a hunt.

“Daryl, I swear, I will spin your jaw if you dont shut up.” You’d say, and Daryl would smirk.

“If ya can reach.”

And you’d sigh. “Fine, I’ll just bite your ankles.”

“Sure ya can reach those?” Daryl would answer effortlessly, knowing he could continue forever.

“Daryl I SWEAR-“ You’d yell, and he’d burst out laughing.

- anytime anyone around you used the words “little”, “small”, “shorter”, Daryl found a way to spin it on you

“We should take this road, it’d be shorter-“ Rick began, and then he closed his eyes in a pained blink, waiting for what he knew was coming.

Daryl smirked, diverting his gaze from the map on the hood of the car and glancing down at you beside him.

“Shorter, huh. Remin’s me o’ someone.”

- anytime anyone asked anyone “what’s up” you could guarantee that from somewhere else in the prison, you would hear Daryl Dixon yell out “NOT (Y/N)!”

- secretly he found your lack of height to be very endearing, the way you looked up at him was adorable, the ease with which you could jump on his back at anytime for a piggyback ride without fatally wounding him, the fact that the cliché short-problem of having to ask someone else to reach stuff for you and Daryl usually being the closest person for you to ask. he loved it, and he made sure to remind you with a series of cute height-related petnames

“‘ey, mouse, c’mon, aint got all day.”

“Been lookin’ all over for you, li’l one, where ya been?”

“Listen, small person, ya better ease up on that tone with me.”

- later on when your relationship progressed, Daryl introduced the petname of “doll” cuz thinks you’re small and cute like a doll, but he only uses that petname in softer moments between you, like if you’re upset or he’s tired

- and he didnt see your height as a weakness either. once you’d joined him for a few hunts, Daryl could see that you really could handle yourself, you were a strong fighter, he had no doubts there. but he couldnt help worrying that you were just a little more fragile because of how small you were, it was a natural worry to have, all things considered, and you loved his protectiveness of you, so you definitely werent complaining

- the only problem with Daryl’s protectiveness was that it extended to him wanting to beat the shit out of anyone else who joked about your height

- Rick, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Glenn, Carol, Michonne- the entire core group as well as Tyereese because he’s a fkin unit, they were all allowed to make fun of your height, but anyone else who tried had a death wish

- sometimes new arrivals would be stupid enough to voice their opinions on you being inferior and incapable because of your height when Daryl was nearby. they’d joke about wondering how you made it this far, assuming you’d been living safely since the start otherwise you wouldnt have made it, assuming everyone around you needed to protect you because you were a liability

- and Daryl would be there in an instant

“The hell’d you just say?!” He’d growl from your side.

“Anyone built like that cant even reach the top shelf, let alone survive in a world like this! It’s survival of the fittest, plain and simple!” The idiot would be stupid enough to say, laughing through his own explanation.

And then Daryl would knock him to the ground a lot less playfully than he knocked you to the ground on the day you met, he’d be on top of the idiot and punching him until someone (usually Rick) pulled him off.

You’d be there right away, standing on your tiptoes to hold Daryl’s face in your hands and calm him down. He’d rest his forehead against yours and ask if you were alright, if the idiot had hurt your feelings ‘cause “if he did I’ll go right back over there an-“ and you’d say no. You’d take him back to your cell and clean up his split knuckles while Daryl just watched you, utterly mesmerised.

And then you’d sit on his lap, his arms wrapping around you without him having to think about it.

“What would I do without you?” The question would pass your lips quietly, as though truly bewildered by wondering what life would be like without Daryl in it.

“Hear a lot less jokes.” He’d reply, his voice rumbling in his chest, you’d feel it through his shirt, against your palm.

You’d laugh, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “And be a lot leas happy.”

[dreamonminecraft]

I mean, George’s been showing an attraction for men (fictional and real) for ages, not just Dream. Those thirst traps he used to watch.. his fascination (not just jokes) with dicks over the years. Also he went from being very awkward/careful about any gay mention (remember how upset he got over the ’bottom’ comment?) to fully embracing that now. He even got upset when the sidemen thought he would be bad at head like? For me, in the past two years, he (seemed to at least) fully accept himself. That obviously doesn’t mean you’re ready to be out about it. But going out to gay clubs with Larray, being in their ’twink’ tiktok thing they did and all other moments.. they bonded over *something* surely. So yeah, I was shocked about this whole thing, not gonna lie. It’s the first time ever we’ve heard about him in connection with women, in a non-platonic way. Like remember when he went on that girl trip with the Botez sisters in 2022? Just him and the girls and them talking about that ’Zaddy’ waitress or whatever it was 😂 And all the moments of him seeming uncomfortable about talking of girlfriends and boobs and yeah, I don’t know. He’s always been just gay in my eyes (based on the things he’s done/said and not stereotypes or looks just to be clear.) Or even about just dnf either. Like take Dream out of the equation and I would still think that. Now sexuality can be fluid of course. Maybe he realised he could feel something for women too? Maybe it was an exception to the rule? Or maybe, he experimented a bit and what do we know what he really felt about it? People try things sometimes, for many different reasons. Maybe he had a little crisis or something. Maybe he was heartbroken over Dream flirting with someone else in the same room like? Or maybe he is bi/pan ( not trying to deny the possibility, I’m bi myself so.) But yeah, just my opinion, not some actual truth here ofc ❤️

I think that's a really fair assessment. From what we knew of his private life (up until a few weeks ago) he was attracted to men (real and fictional) and never shared details of any prior real life experiences with anybody (women or otherwise - first kiss, past partners, etc)

He's fine with the perception that people have of him being gay (obviously it doesn't hurt his career. not saying he's queer baiting) but Dream was very 'im straight. I kiss girls. I date girls' before he knew he wasn't straight, and when he started to realize that he wasn't, he still acknowledged that he liked girls while recognizing his changing feelings. George is just very private in general.

There's a clip from one of the very first dsmp streams where Dream calls George gay "he's like that one closeted friend who doesn't say I love you because he doesn't want to out himself" (my least favorite Dream joke ever, thanks) and you know how he justifies it to the (rightfully) uncomfortable chat? "I wouldn't say that if I wasn't 100% sure George was straight."

George's response: "Straight outta Compton"

I mean this guy has been actively denying any sort of public labeling of his sexuality by anyone for almost four years. Maybe he's in the same position as Dream and he just doesn't want a label (doesn't know/doesn't like the pressure/whatever) or maybe the public perception is something that he doesn't want. Whatever he is, I think it's pretty clear he's some sort of queer.

[popatochisssp]

IM IN LOVE WITH ALL THE NEW BOYSS!!!! I was wondering what hobbies they would have? Would any of them skate? What about make art? Play piano, perhaps?

Quick sidebar, it would probably be easier to ask who can’t skate than who can—at least regarding ice skating—because the majority of the skeletons lived/grew up in Snowdin and had plenty of time to practice their ‘don’t pratfall on the ice’ skills, so they’d (almost) all be at least passingly competent at ice skating, and then whatever learning curve is involved with slightly transferable skills to not-ice skating.

That said!

…You know, I realized I never did an accounting of all this, even with the first two waves of boys, so…

This is by no means a complete list of everything the boys might enjoy doing—despite the fact that this is huge and completely got away from me, oh my god seriously do not open the readmore on your dash—but!

Sans (Undertale):

He’s a goofy guy, so it’s probably no surprise that he’s into comedy. He’s a lover of puns and pranks and jokes in general, just…maybe not as casually as he makes it look. He does a little stand-up now and then, open mic nights mostly nowadays, but he’s played to larger audiences before at the MTT resort. He’s also got a pretty sizeable collection of comedic paraphernalia—rubber chickens, whoopie cushion, snapping gum, you name it—just on the off chance he might get to use it in a prime moment. He spends a lot of his free time reading joke books, watching other pros perform, and even, on occasion, don’t tell anyone, but… studying the science of humor, what people seem to find funny, how, and why. He doesn’t like to let on, because he thinks it makes him seems a little less cool and funny if you know he goes out of his way to research this stuff sometimes instead of just vibing on improv, but he genuinely finds the subject fascinating and likes to read about it. Alas, he’s a nerd…

And as such, he’s also very into physics. Quantum physics as food for thought in his downtime when he just wants to chew on some conceptually heavy stuff, but classical and practical physics make for some great experiments and demos, especially as party tricks or ‘hey, you wanna see something cool?’s for interested onlookers and he’s so all about that. Want to try an egg drop from the roof with popsicle sticks and straws? He’s got tape and a fresh carton right here. Maybe make a magnet out of a battery? Sure, there’s wire and nails around here somewhere… Or maybe you want to bet him he can’t hold up a water bottle with nothing but a string and three matches? C’mon, 10G—no, 20G. But really, he’ll take any excuse to do a cool demo of stuff he knows.

As for stuff that doesn’t demo quite as well… It was a little less apparent Underground, but there was a reason he had that telescope of his and it wasn’t just because he liked pranking people with paint on the eye-piece. He did love doing that, of course, but he also genuinely loves stars and space, learning about it and looking at it now that he actually has the opportunity to—he’s got his telescope to use on clear nights, a yearly pass for the local planetarium, and you better believe he’s subscribed to NASA’s newsletters for regular updates on the goings on out there. He tries to play it cool, but stars and black holes and nebulae are cooler, it’s hard not to get invested in everything to do with them…

Papyrus (Undertale):

Of course, he’s the master of puzzles, and not just your basic jigsaw! …Well, maybe sometimes a jigsaw, he’s not morally opposed to them but really, he needs a challenge for his intellect! He doesn’t mind a word puzzle here and there—as long as it’s not a crossword—but physical puzzles are his favorites, anything to employ his spatial reasoning and impressively fine motor skills. Rubik’s cubes are fun, linked wires, interlocking blocks, really anything in three dimensions that he can fiddle with and manipulate until it surrenders to his incredible greatness. He’s very proud of his solving ability and definitely brags about it, but he’s not just blowing hot air. He really does have a great knack for observing disparate pieces and fitting them together conceptually to see what they can be before ever starting to physically assemble them and the joy of bragging aside, he loves getting to exercise that particular mind-muscle and show his smarts.

In a similar vein, he’s also a big fan of model-making. Planes, trains, automobiles and the like, and no small amount of action figures, he likes to build them up piece by piece with his own two hands. It’s fine to populate his theoretical battle scenarios with gifts from brothers and Santas, or stuff he found at the Dump, but it’s definitely his preference to start with a kit and put it all together himself, watching it gradually take shape with his diligent effort. Maybe he��ll go off-book from time to time, a little bit, but customizing things to his own unique specifications just seems the thing to do when he’s already doing the rest of the making. All the gluing and cutting and painting and lacquering by hand… it’s the art of creation—and what nobler pursuit is there than that?

Well, there may be one other thing. As a truly renaissance man, he’s naturally well-rounded in his interests, intelligent and creative and yes, physically fit too! For him, there’s no better way to stay in shape than by playing sports, most any kind! Basketball, soccer, hockey, tennis, he’ll play any sport, just explain the rules and give him the ball—or don’t, depending on the objective and rules of the specific game in question as you’ve described it. The desirability of the sportsball does seem to vary quite a bit, so he’ll need to determine whether he wants to obtain or get rid of the ball, puck, shuttlecock, whatev—no, that’s the accurate term, it is not! Whatever you’re thinking! Stars, be mature… But! He likes games and being active and having friends, all of which are part and parcel of engaging in sports, so he’s really always up for a game.

Sky (Underswap Sans):

He likes to bake! He’s not a professional and in fact, he finds it to be quite challenging at times—there’s way more restrictions than cooking on how much to add of this, making sure to do that before the other thing but after this step, the oven has to be at exactly the right temperature… There’s a lot of steps and rules, but that’s kind of what he likes about it. He likes trying to see if he can make a thing, and then if he can, what tweaks he can make to flavors and textures without compromising the end result. He’s not always successful—he’s definitely ended up with sopping wet cakes, burnt pie crusts, overly salty muffins—but frankly, the experimenting to get it right is all part of the fun! He tends to make more tasty treats than he does failures and he’s happy to share those around with friends and family anytime. Baking may be an exacting mistress, but he loves to tango with her all the same!

Speaking of which…well, he may not know the tango specifically but he does love to dance! He’s got a lot of energy and a solid sense of rhythm, and that combo tends to result in at least a little shimmy of a two-step when there’s a good beat going on—and all bets are off entirely if there happens to be a dance floor and a favorite song playing. He likes dancing with a partner, or in a group, but he’ll dance all by himself if he’s feeling the mood, like nobody’s watching…or rather, like everyone’s watching and he wants to impress and lure out a little company to join him. He even has a tendency to put on music and dance in place a bit when he’s doing otherwise boring chores around the house, like dishes or vacuuming, and while he doesn’t mind doing his dancing solo then too, he’s always delighted to find someone who’s willing to dance along.

He wouldn’t turn down some company for a bit of outdoor exploration, either. A hiking trail maybe? Or some rock climbing? A nature trail or just a walk in the park wouldn’t go awry either if something a little less strenuous is required! He does like the exercise but it’s mostly the nature and all things green that he wants to see and be out in—trees and flowers and even grass. His house would probably be packed with greenery if he…hadn’t…killed every single plant he ever tried to keep…but! Since he does indeed have a deadly black thumb, he likes to visit the plants, in their natural habitat where he has no control over whether they live or die (so they’ll probably continue to live).

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

It’s no secret that he’s a bookworm. He loves literature and always has—his brother will tell you he was reading before he was even talking, and as embarrassing as it is every time he brings it up, it’s not untrue. He reads voraciously, with a preference for fantasy, romance, and poetry, but he’ll read pretty much any book he can get his hands on. It’s probably no surprise that he’s been inspired to do a little writing of his own, over the years. He’s pretty private about his own work (especially the poetry, oh god, he’d dust on the spot if someone saw his poetry) but he still loves to talk about the written word and techniques used in its conveyance and form, and the struggles writers face in trying to communicate the ideas they have stuck in their heads. He’s great for reading recommendations if he knows the kind of things someone likes, but his go-to recs will always be his personal favorites.

Pride and Prejudice is one such favorite. He’s seen all the film adaptations and miniseries, and branched out from there, first into stuff inspired by similar works, then originals, and then…okay, he’s maybe a little bit addicted to period pieces in general now. Whenever a new one comes out, anything about regency or royals or the nobility in a dramatic setting, he pretty much has to watch it, more only a question of ‘when’ and not ‘if’ he’ll be checking it out. Naturally, he’s happiest when it’s coming out on a scheduled basis, because if an entire season drops all at once he’s going to sit there and binge it and it’s much harder to deny he has an addiction when he just pulled an all-nighter about it. He can’t help himself, he has to see if the socially mismatched couple can make it work and be wed in the end, love winning out over silly class divides…

When he’s not actively obsessed with either of those things, though, he dabbles a bit in calligraphy. He’d probably hesitate to call it a hobby, he does have a couple of those fancy pens and some nice paper and ink to use them with, and he’s decent at it, but definitely needs to practice more to be able to do the really fancy flourishes without blotting the ink or scratching the page. He can certainly do some simple, clean lettering if needed! Like…if you want a poster or a sign to look neat and professional, or…maybe you want the ‘To Do’ list on the fridge to have a fancy header or something? (His end-goal is to be able to do his own drop-caps and an elaborate cursive title for the cover of his book, someday, maybe, who knows…)

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

He likes working with his hands, making things and having something to show for his time and effort. (Knitting? No, that’s, that’s not a hobby, that was a necessity, just for special occasions now, he’s not…naw, c’mon…) He’s something of a car guy. He likes engines and wheels and pistons and how they all work together to make something that goes fast, and he likes understanding how all the pieces fit together and how to fix them if something breaks. It’s something he practiced Underground with busted old engines and bikes that fell down, and a career he pursued on the Surface, but even in his free time he likes tuning up his car, his bro’s car, restoring glory to a classic bike he got at a steal of a price and she’s gonna purr like a kitten when he’s done—he’s just…happy, with his hands buried in an engine and grease all over his face.

And speaking of grease on his face, he’s pretty passionate about food, too. Not so much the cooking of it, though he’s not too shabby in the kitchen when he puts the effort in, but more the eating of it and appreciating the flavors and textures. He’s got a lot of strong opinions on how done a steak oughta be (medium-rare), what belongs on pizza (anything but candy), and how to eat chips with your sandwich (in it, for that extra crunch of texture). ‘Gourmet’ sounds a little too snobby for his tastes, food doesn’t have to be expensive to be good and in fact, it usually isn’t—some of his best meals have been from holes in the wall—but he does like going out to such places to eat and socialize, maybe have a chat and give his compliments to the chef (and definitely not try to wheedle any recipes), that sorta thing.

But after all that, when he really wants to wind down, there’s nothing he likes better than a bit of gaming. He’s not much for multiplayer, he prefers doing his own thing at his own pace, but he likes having some kind of objective and making it happen. It gives a nice sense of accomplishment that he can get while sitting down—which is great. He tends mostly towards puzzle/adventure type games more than pure battle scenarios and beat-‘em-ups, he feels like there should be some strategy and skill involved, or the satisfaction of the win just doesn’t come through as strong. (Protip: do not watch this man defeat a Dark Souls boss if you are easily stressed out. He taunts between strikes and dodges at the very last second because he’s got the timing down to a science. Maybe try Pokemon or Zelda instead…)

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

His first great love is and likely always shall be the theater. He didn’t have too many opportunities Underground to go see live stage plays, but he’s long since broken the spine of the collected works of Shakespeare that got him started and memorized its contents, water-stained cover to water-stained cover. He can recite any of the Bard’s work by act and scene number, of which he is incredibly proud, but he’s at least passing familiar with a handful of other manuscripts or popular stage-to-film adaptations mass produced enough to have a chance of ending up in the Dump in decent condition. On the Surface, he definitely wants to see some things live and gets only a reasonable amount of excited about specific productions’ quirks and narrative choices. Joining in on local theater himself? Well…he’s very busy these days… (Maybe after retirement?)

Another passion of his pulled from the depths of the Dump is his guitar—a bass so sturdy and lucky that it made it all the way down without breaking a string. He thought it was cool as soon as he saw it and really wanted to have it and learn how to play. It’s been an uphill struggle since he’s entirely self-taught with regards to his equipment settings, guitar maintenance, and even reading music notes, but the few sparse instruction manuals he’s managed to find were helpful. His own stubborn determination to figure it out and be the kind of cool guy who knows how to play bass has taken him a long way, and he’s starting to make some deep, pleasant sounds that he’s very happy about… But he’s still nowhere near ready to play for anyone, he couldn’t possibly, not until he’s good at it!

And when he’s having a bad time at that, or anything else is ticking him off and there’s no better outlet to blow off steam, he knows he can always fall back on a good work-out. Even in a Kill or Be Killed sort of place, it’s not always a good idea to go picking fights and yelling and cussing and beating the stuffing out of other people—so whenever he feels like doing that, he’s in the habit of beating the stuffing out of a punching bag instead, or lifting weights, or doing one-handed push-ups, something strenuous. He may not be a machine made of meat that releases good-feeling chemicals after a successful exertion, like humans are, but he still feels great after getting to work out and clear his mind of everything but what his body’s doing so he likes to keep up a regular routine. You don’t want to see him after he’s missed a few work-outs, he gets very testy.

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

Pretty much from the moment he came into existence, he’s loved math. Call him a nerd all you like, but numbers are his happy place, where everything is straightforward and exactly what it’s supposed to be and if he doesn’t understand something, he’s probably only missing a variable and when he finds it, everything will make sense again. He has apps and workbooks around with equations for him to solve in his downtime like some kind of freak, but lacking those he’ll sometimes just make up his own math problems and try to solve them in his head—how long will it take for the water cooler to be empty if the tap is dripping at a regular interval of one drop every forty-seven seconds, should no one notice and intervene to repair it? The drum holds up to five gallons, but has already been emptied by approximately—

Okay, that’s enough math. He’s also into whittling, though he’s miles less confident about his ability. He’s not terrible, really, just very self-critical so he tends not to show off the things he makes, but he likes having something to occupy his hands while most of his attention is elsewhere, with the added bonus of having a knife in one of said hands should someone surprise him—self-defense is important, you know! In any case, he’s not as good of an artist as his brother, or even as good as he’d like to be, but it’s something to do and he can only improve with practice. Someday, with the proper equipment, he might even get into full-on woodworking, with chairs and tables and cabinetry and such that are far more straightforward to make than fiddly little figurines, but for now he just has a whittling knife and wood and too much stubbornness to quit at anything once he’s started.

As for something a little (debatably) higher-brow, he also has an interest in wine. He’s no sommelier, of course, but he’s run in fancy (royal) circles for long enough to have tried his fair share of fermented fruit juices. There are some he likes (dry reds), some he doesn’t (sweet whites), and plenty in between—but the topic makes for excellent conversation at lots of dinner parties and formal occasions, so he felt it helpful to learn a few things here and there so he knows (or can pass as knowing) what he’s talking about. On the Surface, he actually gets to take a wine tasting class and put a formal polish on his book-learning and first-hand experience, and makes a point of trying new brands that catch his attention. (He’ll never admit it aloud, but he’s far more swayed by a cool label or an interesting bottle shape than a high price tag—even cheap wine tastes just fine if you aerate it!)

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

He’s an artist, first and foremost. His most frequent medium is pen and paper—it’s what he started with and what he’s practiced the most—but it’s never really occurred to him to limit himself to only one thing so he’s tried out a lot of different techniques and utensils and can use most of them effectively. He’s not formally taught, seen some pictures and read some textbook entries of famous pieces and art movements, but everything he’s learned he learned by screwing around with it until he figured out how to make it look like he wanted and in the process, he’s built up a pretty strong base of skills. Mostly, he likes to draw (or sketch or paint) things he’s seen, recreating memories like a photo without a camera, but sometimes he goes on more abstract style experiments, trying to express a vibe or a feeling more than a moment. He finds it meditative, grounding more than anything else he’s tried to relax and it makes him happy to have a creative outlet.

As far as other ways to relax and have fun, something that’s really blossomed on the Surface for him is his interest in fidget toys. Not too many made it Underground for him to enjoy then, just a lonely broken palm-tangle and about a hundred Rubik’s cubes in various states of disrepair—sadly he got so good at solving the cubes that he doesn’t even consider them puzzles, just color-block-pattern simulators—but the Surface! There’s so many stim and fidget toys for him to get his hands on, and so many Ultimate Super Satisfying Compilation vids online to show him new ones. Poppers, spinners, chewelry, clickers…some hit better than others but he likes trying things out, playing with toys that are brightly colored, or feel cool, or make a nice sound. He keeps his favorites and sells or donates the rest, gotta make sure to leave room somewhere if he wants to get a new one.

He also makes a point of walking to the stores and donation centers and post offices at which he exchanges these items because—at the risk of making him sound like a dog—he loves going on walks! He was a shut-in for awhile, afraid of strangers outside, and to an extent he still is (social anxiety), but the Surface has different rules and for a lot of reasons, it feels safer for him to be out and about now, and he likes taking advantage of that. Fresh air and sun and slow, easy movement without having to look over his shoulder, free attention to spare to his surroundings and the chance to stop somewhere and check out a new place… He really likes it and tries to make time to go on a walk at least once every couple of days, destination entirely optional.

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He’s a rock guy, and he’s not talking about the music genre—just rocks, or crystals, the kind you find in and on the ground. He likes the pun potential (ask any geologist, there’s a million) but also it’s just something fun and low-stakes to do, to collect and find and examine stones and crystals whenever he happens to come across them. A lot of his facts and knowledge base predate the head injury, too, so it’s something he tends to know a good amount about and can have a high-level conversation about at length, of which he’s very proud. Plus, having a bunch of rocks around doubles as both home décor and paperweights, so you gotta admire the versatility of it. He's always on the lookout for new stones to add to his collection, or to talk about and pebble—I mean, gift to his friends and family.

He’s an animal lover as well, which is…not much of a transition from the previous paragraph. He had a pet rock once, does that bridge the gap? Not really. Ah well. The point is, he likes critters, usually ones smaller than him but that’s not hard since he’s a pretty big guy. His past and the things he’s done don’t matter to animals, all they care about is whether he’s an immediate threat (he isn’t) and if he has food to give them (likely), and not having to worry about that is a heavy weight off his mind. He can be totally relaxed around animals so he likes spending time around them whenever he gets the chance—fur and fluff is a plus but he’s got nothing against scales and feathers, creatures come as you are and he’ll get you some water and a treat and maybe a scritch.

But if he must be around humans, or other sentient beings (he must, he’s not built for social isolation), then magic is the ace he keeps up his sleeve. Not the real stuff, of course… Though he’ll naturally be happy to show an interested onlooker a bullet or two, real magic is something any monster can do, even if they were literally born yesterday. He likes fake magic, sleight of hand tricks and misdirection—disappearing and reappearing coins, spoon bending, levitating cards—y’know, the cheap gimmicky shit. It’s fun to learn and easy to practice, works very well with a lot of skills he already had. It also has the additional plus of being disarming for anyone who might be a little…intimidated by him, his size and spooky appearance, especially if he can’t get a joke out quick enough to show he’s harmless, so he likes picking up new tricks when he can and showing them off when he’s got ‘em right.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

He loves to cook! He’s gotten a lot better at it since the old days, trying to learn from Undyne’s lessons and it’s become a genuine passion for him to hone his skills in the kitchen and then (hopefully) show off to guests and friends and family who come over to share a meal. He considers it something of a puzzle in its own right—how to use these ingredients to get the most nutritional value with as little wasted as possible. He’s figured out a lot of ways to repurpose bits that usually get thrown out and in some cases, even make more tasty meals with the castoff pieces (his veggie-peel soup stock is to die for…not literally, but it’s very good)! His favorite part is naturally when people eat what he makes and shower him in compliments, but a close second is knowing that he’s fed his loved ones and they won’t ever leave his home hungry.

Since he does so much in the kitchen and, for the first time in a long time, he has an unfrozen yard for two or three quarters of a year and easy access to seeds, he’s also taken up gardening. Mostly, he grows his own vegetables and herbs but he has the space and the inclination so there’s plenty of colorful flowers in the mix too. He’s very attentive to his crops and flowerbeds and does everything his plants need to flourish and bloom. He delights in praise for his good work and the gratitude when he has a big enough harvest to share with friends and neighbors, or maybe to donate to the local food bank if they’re willing to take it. His garden is his pride and joy and no dirt or weather or pests will stop him from maintaining it!

Now he does have one hobby that’s just for his own enjoyment, not even peripherally related to others, and it’s pure unadulterated guilty pleasure: he adores watching soap operas. The more theatrical and contrived, the better, he can’t help but get sucked into the cheesy drama of it all. He started with just one hospital show and kept watching to tut and shake his head over inaccuracies, and then there was another show on after it that had a wild opening hook, and then…and then… Alas, he found the telenovelas. His enjoyment of them is only somewhat hampered by his inability to understand Spanish, but you’d be surprised how much you can glean from context clues and some things transcend language—it’s too late for him now, he’s recording every episode that airs during the day to watch later, he must know if Gloria’s twin sister will run away with her amnesiac fiancé!

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

Music’s the big one for him. He’s very low-energy and when you’re both depressed and physically fragile, it’s not always possible to go out to where other people are, even when you want to—but music can come to you, no matter how bad you’re feeling, and for that it’s become a huge pillar in his life. His favorite genre is classical (can’t get more classic than The Classics), but he’ll listen to most things, though he’ll always want a physical copy of it to keep if he likes it. CDs, tapes, even vinyl records, digital file only just doesn’t cut it for him. He plays his own music too, rarely with sheet music and mostly just riffing whatever feels right at the time. His trusty trombone is more than just a vehicle for incidental music, it’s like a pal that’s always been there for him even if he didn’t have the energy for it sometimes, and he makes sure to keep it in prime condition.

On his better days—of which he’s been having a lot more since reaching the Surface—he very much loves to be around people and one of his favorite things to get to do with those people is play games, board games to be specific. Monopoly might get a little too violent for his tastes, but stuff like Scrabble, Sorry!, Jenga, all up his alley. It takes a mix of skill and luck to win, which keeps things interesting, and barring a snack break or a celebratory dance of some kind, can be enjoyed entirely sedentarily, which is excellent. He probably shouldn’t be allowed to play cards (he counts them), and his brother swears he weighs dice (he doesn’t), but everything else is fair game and he likes having something he can shine at while also getting to hang out with friends.

But when he’s at home, or he can’t find a group to hang with, he spends a good amount of time cloud-gazing. Not star-gazing, though the sky and the stars are beautiful of course, but his interest is in the atmosphere, on the weather. There weren’t too many weather conditions to be found Underground—snow and rain and hot, basically—and the descriptions he’d heard and read of the kind of stuff that happened on the Surface had always captured his imagination. Clouds, storm cells, fog? It was interesting, and he read about a lot of atmospheric conditions without ever really expecting to see any for himself… but he’s actually up here now. And here, he’s the type of guy who owns a barometer, watches live Doppler radar feeds with rapt interest, and can tell you if it’s going to rain without even checking the weather app, just by taking a look up. His interest in meteorology actually has some practical applications now, go figure.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

He’s a cook, and though that may not be his job title, he takes it almost as seriously as if it was. For him, it’s both a passion and a language, a way to reach out to people and connect when there aren’t words—or when there are, but they’re not enough. He thinks of every meal he makes as a gift for the person he’s making it for and as such, it’s not enough for it to just be good food—it should be personalized to suit the recipient’s tastes, bespoke to what they like! That said, he primarily cooks comfort foods, stuff loaded with butter and cheese and salt because that’s what his depressed and struggling loved ones seem to like the most. It’s not always to his tastes, but it’s a point of great pride for him to have dinners at his home feeling like the end of Thanksgiving, everyone full and content and at risk of dozing off on the sofa.

He takes such pride in his cooking that he makes most everything from scratch, and that’s how he got into canning. To get to be such a good cook and to have such a discerning palate, you start to get a bit dissatisfied with store-bought spreads, and you start thinking of how you could tweak it, just a bit, and come up with something a little better. And well, of course he has a sweet tooth and doesn’t he deserve to gift himself a treat from time to time? Which is not to say he doesn’t share his jams and jellies and preserves when he gets to making them—which is anytime there’s a good sale on fruit—but at the risk of making him sound arrogant, he’s absolutely spoiled himself for even the big brands at the store. Sure, he could buy it, as-is, or he could make it and enhance the flavor with a bit of mint or cinnamon or whatever it’s begging for, exactly to his liking. …He does go through quite a lot of jars, though.

So it’s a good thing that he knows all the best home goods stores in the area to buy mason jars, and loyalty perks at every one that offers them because he’s such a frequent customer. He’s very particular about the way his home is decorated and spends a lot of time and effort into cultivating just the right homey, comfortable, clean vibe for the space, so of course he’s always thinking of ways to use his décor to do just that. He doesn’t like a static environment so he frequently moves things around, takes away old things, and adds new ones—scented candles, decorative bowls, accent pieces, really anything that catches his eye-socket. He’s a natural-born homemaker, really, it's a shame he doesn’t have a spouse to appreciate all his talents (yet~).

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

Okay well now knitting is a hobby of his, now that he’s too big and scary to give a shit what anyone thinks about his yarn-crafting. It’s a skill from before the head injury (and the Everything Else) so it’s not like having to pick up a new skill and something you can be competent at is always nice. He finds it pretty relaxing too, if he’s honest with himself, and grounding—between the repetitive motions and the tangible product of his effort and time having passed, it’s a good go-to for him when he’s stressed and needs to calm down, or when he’s disoriented and has to reorient onto something real. It’s a pretty nice side-hustle too, selling what he makes online, but even if it wasn’t for someone, he’d still knit for himself.

…But it’s maybe not so much of a side-hustle because he doesn’t really have a main-hustle to be doing his knitting on the side of. He mostly hangs around the house as an unemployed self-employed bum. And if you’re bored, in the house, it’s probably only a matter of time before you notice something that needs attention, something broken or askew or in need of a fresh coat of something, and that’s what happened to him, and how he started getting into a lot of DIY home repair. He’s got a background in a lot of technical and mechanical stuff, the confidence to poke around in unfamiliar things, and he certainly has the time, so he’s become something of an all-purpose handyman, regularly sweeping the place to see if there’s something he can fix or tune up. Leaky faucet in the kitchen? Engine maintenance on his bro’s car? Heating ducts making a weird noise? No problem, he’ll check it out, probably an easy enough fix.

He doesn’t stay cooped up in the house all the time though. …Most of it, maybe, but he likes to sit out on the porch or hang in the yard sometimes and get a front row seat to all the wildlife lurking around. He keeps a bird-feeder topped up so the birds always come by, and he’s maybe not so diligent about making sure the bird-feeder doesn’t also become a squirrel-feeder, so there’s a few of them around, too. He has a bad habit of leaving food out for neighborhood strays—cats—and every now and again he’ll catch one and get it fixed, but the food’s also lured in a few other critters it wasn’t meant for. He shoos away the raccoons and possums and (on a couple occasions) foxes that end up on his doorstep, but he likes seeing them so he probably won’t ever really stop. There’s a local murder of crows who bring him offerings of bottle caps and buttons and other junk, and he’s half-convinced they worship him as a god but that’s definitely not going to his head or anything, don’t worry.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

He likes to meditate. That’s perhaps an understatement, he needs to meditate—even after abdicating his throne and resuming a civilian life, on the Surface with food and safety and funds aplenty, he has a lot of stress and on any given day, he’s wound tight as a spring. Old habits die hard, and old guilt and pain and fear die harder, and he has a tough time relaxing naturally. Having a set time and routine to sit and breathe and clear his mind, deliberately, is crucial for him. He’s got a room set aside just for it with only related paraphernalia—meditation music, incense holder, a zen garden—inside, a space empty of distractions where he can just relax and let everything else go. It’s either that or be more open and vulnerable in therapy and the latter’s not happening any time soon, so his meditation room is the only thing standing between him and a mental breakdown.

That’s a humorous exaggeration, of course. He also has his bonsai trees, which serve a similar function. He got his first around the same time he took up meditation, thinking it might just be a nice plant to set the ambiance, but as he started caring for it and cultivating it, it grew (pun not intended, how dare you?) into its own thing. He’s got lots of bonsais now and takes great deliberate care in their soil, their water, and meticulous pruning to keep them all growing healthy and strong and in exactly the way they should. There might be something to be said there about power and control and healthy, positive outlets to explore those needs, but for him they’re just his trees—his responsibility, his to keep alive, his to keep in line… And it’s nice to have plants in the house, they really add something to a space, don’t you think?

Something else he’s into that’s slightly more social is chess. He learned a lot about tactics and strategy during and in the lead-up to his reign, both from books and hard experience, and chess is a strategist’s game—all about studying the field of play and your opponent and thinking ahead to achieve your desired outcome. He started by playing against his brother, learning the game and gaining confidence, and then later against Toriel while he conspired to overthrow Undyne, which taught him more about thinking like a warrior monarch and how to strategize against one. Ever since, chess has been his preferred way to get to know someone and he finds the insight into a person’s thoughts (through their choices and idle conversation during the game) to be an invaluable asset. …It’s also somewhat fun, enriching he supposes, or else he probably wouldn’t keep so many chess sets in the house, or regularly go to the park to seek opponents at the public boards. But what business is that of yours?

Merc (Horrorswap Sans):

His physical…situation…is complicated. Until he gets his DT under control, he starts literally melting down whenever his emotions are too high which means that most of the things he would’ve done before for fun and exercise are out. His solution to that is yoga, a low-stress, low-impact way to stretch and move and keep his body functional, without the risk of upsetting himself and others by turning into a puddle! Going through the forms helps him focus his mind and ground him in his body at the same time, which he loves, and it’s something he can do solo or in a group, which is also great depending on his mood and need. He attends a studio at least semi-regularly, whenever there’s a class going on, and he loves it as a way to meet new people and socialize in a low-key way. Even after his melting problem gets sorted, he keeps the yoga as a part of his life and routine—it works for him, even when a lot of other things didn’t!

Escapism has also always been there for him: the sci-fi flavored genre specifically. He’s been in pretty dire need for distractions to take his mind off his condition and his frustratingly slow-going research, and fiction was a great fit, depictions of far-future times when technology is advanced but people are still people and the problems of today are all solved and done with—just the problems of tomorrow left to solve and there’s always hope somewhere out there in the universe. Yeah…he can use a little bit of that. Back Underground, he’d seen a few popular sci-fi series that managed to fall down—Star Trek, Star Wars, and a few others—but he falls back into it hard on the Surface when he discovers that the full collections are available, usually remastered and listed out in chronological order, and so many other fans to talk to about it, wow! And oh, the merch, so much merch… He’s only a mortal man, how is he meant to resist a phone case designed to look like a communicator from The Original Series? Or a replica of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber? Or… Okay maybe he’s just enough of a nerd for it verge on a financial problem but he’s having fun, let him have this.

It's not like he’s not bringing in a paycheck, with his little home bakery business. He’s gotten serious about his baking and really ramped up his technical skill, and good flavor and texture is surely a way to keep a customer base, but he wanted to draw in the new customers and for that, he had to get good at decorating. As an amateur, he didn’t care so much if his frosting was a little messy, or really try to do anything at all beyond maybe some food coloring and sprinkles here and there, but in the interest of trying to elevate his business to the next level, he started experimenting more with design techniques—and he discovered he loves it! It takes a lot of skill and precision to execute on top-notch cake décor and he likes the challenge of learning something new and perfecting it until he’s ready to offer it as a technique to his customers. He’s the king of drip cakes, master of mirror glazes, and has the cleanest foil and luster work you will ever see. He’ll tackle geode cakes next, just you wait!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus):

He used to hate spooky shit. Horror movies, ghost stories, creepy stuff meant to send a shiver up your spine and make your heart (if you have one) skip a couple beats—he couldn’t handle it and any hubris otherwise would leave him looking at pictures of kittens trying to forget about it so he could sleep. But then… Wouldn’t you know it, then he lived through a horror: a terrible creature from another world came to his sleepy little town and killed seemingly everybody they could find, and he survived but the world changed, and everyone went hungry, his best friend disappeared, his brother started melting and he almost died and then came back wrong… And now the fake spooky stuff doesn’t seem so bad. Actually it’s…kinda fun? Scary stories and creepypastas still freak him out, a little, but his tolerance for it has gone up considerably and now he seeks out the genre on purpose, to create and consume, because it feels a little good to get scared by something fake instead of all too real.

His new interest in horror turned him on to movies in general. Not that he didn’t like watching movies before, but being especially invested in a specific genre got him reading about analyses of themes and filming techniques, lighting and staging and all the behind-the-scenes choices made in casting and shooting, and he loves being able to point those things out. Watching a movie with him, any movie, will probably trigger a film-buff monologue about something—‘oh see that’s a long shot, they do that when they’re trying to…’, ‘that’s not cg by the way, it’s actually a matte painting and…’, ‘y’know that scene when he kicked the helmet, it turns out he…’ et cetera, et cetera. He’s not trying to be a bore or a know-it-all, he’s actually just really interested in the way all these things, choices or accidents, come together to make a movie and he can talk about it for ages…or complain about it, if it happens to be a crappy movie. He does so love to complain…

Throughout all of this, if his attention isn’t split by his laptop, he’s usually keeping his hands busy another way—with origami. He’s almost always got a lot of scrap paper lying around in reach and for lack of anything better to do, he’ll grab a piece and start folding it. He started screwing around with those notebook edges left over after you tear out a page, but those are messy and ran out of folds real quick, so eventually he looked up some deliberate things to make out of paper and even bought some origami paper specifically for practice and nicer looking results. He’s pretty good at hopping frogs and flapping cranes, and who can’t make a boat, but his go-to is definitely the little stars you make out of the long strips. He’s got a big jar of the stars and keeps making more to add to it, not for any reason, really, but…it’s fun to make ‘em and they look pretty so why not?

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans):

He’s a thrill-seeker. Not necessarily the death-defying stunt kind—though he cheated death once already and might be a bit cockier about his odds the next time around than he ought to be—but any thrill, even the cheap ones. He spent a lot of time Before hedging his bets and prioritizing just about everything but himself, and now he’s decided to spend the rest of his time doing the opposite, chasing excitements and novelties and things he was too cautious or restrained or just too spartan to go after. He seeks out new restaurants, trendy bars, relationships, activities, anything that catches his fancy at the moment. A lot of the things he tries out don’t stick, falling by the wayside after the luster of ‘exciting and new’ wears off—you really only need to try a PB&J burger the once, and if you’ve ridden one mechanical bull, you’ve ridden them all—but some things make an impression.

Boxing is one of the things that stuck for him. He always worked out to stay in good condition and it was a habit he kept up on the Surface, joining a local gym as soon as possible for access to the weights and the punching bag. Fisticuffs was a last resort for him when dealing with actual problems, but hitting things was a great way to blow off steam—and as repressed as he was, he had a lot of steam to blow off, so his form and footwork was always top-notch. He got noticed for it, invited to spar in the ring, and to keep a short story short, he loved it. It’s a challenge being blind in a fistfight, but in a very positive way for him, giving him a chance to use his reflexes and his soul-sense to take on his opponents and most of the time, win. It’s a visceral, almost primal pleasure for him to get to fight in a reasonably safe arena, with people who are also fighting for love of the sport and no aim to seriously injure or kill, like a dance but with someone who wants to knock you out and vice versa.

And speaking of dancing, he’s very fond of that as well for similar, yet less violent reasons. He doesn’t really dance solo, simply for joy of the music—his enjoyment is almost exclusively in the partnered activity, when he has someone to match steps and mirror movement with and combine his awareness of his body and theirs into a cohesive picture. He likes the give and take of it, the way that he can have a physical experience with someone, a conversation without a single word being spoken, all from movement and synchronicity with whoever’s signed his dance card. He knows a few formal dances already and hasn’t forgotten the steps so he’s well-prepared for a polite ballroom experience… but he’s also learned how to let his metaphorical hair down lately, and a bit of dirty dancing is hardly off the table, should his partner for the evening (or afternoon, morning, midnight) be so inclined.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus):

What happened Underground sent him into probably the worst art-block of his life. Even picking up a pen got hard to do with anything more than the intent to jot down a note for himself and he spent entirely too long with utterly dry wells of inspiration, not creating anything at all. In a desperate attempt to rekindle something creative, he ended up searching ‘art ideas’ online and discovered the vast world of craft projects. It was easier for him to actually make something when he had step-by-step guides and didn’t have to draw on his own (lacking) inspiration, and he quickly gained a liking for what he could make out of things he already had lying around the house and art supplies that were collecting dust—coffee-filter peonies, paper-straw wreaths, tin-can organizers, et cetera. He likes upcycling and getting to find use in things that might otherwise be discarded, and he really enjoys getting to put his own personal touch into crafts inspired from the internet.

He's proud enough of his works, in fact, that he wanted to show them off and—lacking real-life friends—he started posting photos of his crafts online. The response was positive but eventually, he started getting dissatisfied with the quality of the pictures he was taking, fuzzing details or altering colors, and he began looking into ways to improve the shots he was taking, lighting techniques, camera settings, angles and framing… By the time he invested in his own high-quality camera (and read the manual, front to back), he was seeing art everywhere, not just in the things he made but in the light through trees on a misty morning, in the waft of a curtain by an open window, in the people walking along the sidewalk out in front of the house. He has an eye-socket for it now and he’s always considering The Perfect Shot, how to capture the beautiful moments happening all the time with his photography. He’s good and getting better all the time, the more he practices his staging and editing.

He definitely wants to diversify his portfolio, though. Of course, he’s great at capturing domestic scenes, being a shut-in and all, but there’s more out there in the world, to see and photograph and be part of. It takes him awhile to get there but once he does, he’s very passionate about traveling. He spent such a long time stuck—first Underground, and then in his home on the Surface—and his scenery and his experiences were limited, but once he’s free there’s so much new and beautiful and exciting that he can access and he loves being able to pack up and go to it, right where it is. He wants to fill a passport and see unique vistas all over the globe, learn about cultures there, and make meaningful memories attached to every picture he takes.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans):

He likes stories, not the kind that come from a book, necessarily, but the stories people tell. The subject doesn’t matter to him much—folklore, local legends, big fish tales, ‘you’ll never believe what happened to me last week’s and more—it’s really the telling of it that he likes, how people describe what happened for an audience of their friends, family, or even strangers. He especially likes hearing the same story from different people to see how they tell it differently with their own perspectives or details that were unique to the version they heard. He’s always got a metaphorical ear open for a good yarn and a great memory for the stories people tell him, to the point that he can dispense them on cue whenever conversation’s slow, but he’s got plenty of his own experiences to make tales out of too, and the charisma and flair to make the telling entertaining.

This is a skill that comes majorly in handy for one of his other favorite hobbies, tabletop gaming. Whether he’s setting the scene for a D&D party he’s DMing for or keeping conversation going while he shuffles a deck for rummy, he loves having a table of people together to talk and play a game (or two, or three) with. It’s hard to get schedules to line up so he almost always has a few different game nights going on at any given time, in rotation depending on who can make what—and luckily, he’s a social butterfly so if someone cancels, getting substitutes to hang and make friends with over a game of something or other is never too difficult for him. He’ll go anywhere but his preference is hosting himself, he just loves having people over and showing them a good old fashioned time!

And speaking of old fashioned, his fashion is a little bit that as well. He’s a tad all over the place with it but nonetheless very interested in vintage and retro styles—the bold neon windbreakers of the 80s, the dated digital graphic tees of the 90s, the vinyl of the 00s, and even the holographics of the 10s. He tends to get a little confused about what was popular when and maybe that’s why he meshes it all together, but regardless, he loves his very eclectic wardrobe and adding to it. He makes a lot of trips to thrift stores and checks often on resale sites and gets very excited whenever he stumbles across a good find. Jackets are his favorite and he definitely has too many, but they spark joy and he’s probably not going to get rid of any or quit shopping around for more of the old school stuff anytime soon.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus):

He likes scrapbooking! Maybe not too surprising, but as someone who mysteriously came into existence one day with no memory of his past, he doesn’t like the idea of losing memories—at least, not any more memories than he’s already apparently lost. He likes keeping records of things he does and that happen in his life as a tangible proof of his existence in and impact on the world. He stores things digitally as well but having the physical album feels weightier and more permanent, so he takes great care assembling and arranging everything in it. He keeps photos of outings with friends and coworkers, fliers from lectures he attends, even receipts from restaurants and movie ticket stubs. It’s all extremely well organized and annotated to the point that it almost reads like a scientific article, but he has fun with the cutting and pasting and aesthetic arrangement of it all—a neat and tidy accounting of (as much of) his life (as he can remember).

It's probably no coincidence that his scrapbook resembles a science journal, though, because he reads a lot of them. He also attends lectures and conferences when available and open to the public because, though he doesn’t have a career in any field of science, he’s still quite passionate about it! He loves learning about new advancements and discoveries, and when he comes across something he doesn’t know or only knows a bit about, he tends to do his own research into relevant readings on the topic until he’s better informed. He loathes misinformation and willful ignorance though, and as a result he’s ended up in a few small scale social media wars where he arrives on a post with thorough corrections, arguments, and sources cited and continues to present the accurate information until he’s respectfully acknowledged or blocked. It’s…usually the latter, but he doesn’t mind a good argument and ad hominem attacks slide right off him, so…as long as he’s having fun, what does it matter?

However…for all his love of truth and fact, he is also—regrettably—truly, madly, deeply compelled by the paranormal. If asked directly, he would say that of course he doesn’t believe in (non-monster) ghosts or aliens or the supernatural, there’s no evidence of such things! At least…nothing credible. He’s read the first and second-hand accounts, reviewed the blurry inconclusive photos, entertained hypotheticals of what could have really caused the sighting or scenario in question, accounting for variables and probing with his own questions to determine more information. He may occasionally be inclined to physically visit some ‘hot spots’ or sites of infamy, just to get a better understanding of the location and potential factors in what’s been claimed… But! Obviously, he’s a devil’s advocate in this only, as intriguing as some of these concepts are, that’s all they are—concepts. The fact that he spends so much time and thought on such things does not at all validate them and it simply means that he is a man of both integrity and science, the real kind!

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans):

He likes swimming! Er…well…maybe that’s not the right word for it. It’s not diving either, really, it’s… He likes going to bodies of water, walking in, and staying under for awhile, there, that’s a more accurate description of it. He’s waterproof and he doesn’t need to breathe, so ducking under the surface for a good few hours is not only possible, but a great way to get near-total peace and quiet for however long he wants it. He wasn’t much of a swimmer when he had an organic body, so it’s a bit of a novelty as well—seeing the way things look underwater, the way sounds change, the way animals swim around him in their natural habitat. He finds being in the water to be very relaxing and pleasant, almost meditative in nature, and whenever he’s feeling especially tense or in need of some space to think (or not think), he’ll head to the nearest body of water and go right in. It would be better if he actually took his clothes off before he did this, but he usually doesn’t and has weirded many clothes with lake or sea water.

He’s also into urban exploration. Not that he specifically calls it that, but he’s a wanderer and he likes to keep a low profile so sometimes, when he happens to be in the heart of a big city and there’s nowhere anonymous enough for him to blend in, he disappears into closed, abandoned, or condemned buildings. He likes the quiet of places like these and the reduced likelihood of running into anyone trying to interact with him because nobody else is supposed to be there. Obviously sometimes people are there anyway, but usually it’s people who mind their own business or actively avoid him, which he’s completely fine with. He does also enjoy having a look around when there’s time and he can, getting to see the remnants of the people who used the building before, what they left behind and imagining what it would be like if it were actively in use. A lot of the places he gets into have nice views of the city outside, too, and it’s pleasant to find a ledge or some rebar to sit on and enjoy it.

Jewelry making came out of his preferred hangout spots, as well. There’s a lot of junk lying around in abandoned or in-construction buildings—chain-link fences, washers, nuts and bolts—and when one is sitting around in an empty spot in the early morning, waiting for the city to wake up so he can slip through the masses undetected again, one gets to fiddling with nearby things in reach. He’s no master jeweler, his creations tend to be very simple, metal bent and twisted by hand in loops and curls, maybe a shape if he’s feeling ambitious, but he likes making them regardless. Sometimes he’ll keep an eye out for interesting stones and hold onto them to incorporate them into one of his pieces, or pick up a bit of nicer wire to work with if he’s going to be passing through a more rural area where it won’t be so easily available. He never keeps the rings and necklaces and bracelets he makes, though, just leaving them on tables and benches and railings for someone else to find later. It’s the making that’s the important part to him, he doesn’t need the thing.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus):

He’s a proud and passionate DJ for partiers everywhere! He kind of fell into it, or at least into the idea of it when figuring out how to approach humanity and be a part of it, and he learned that it’s quite common for musical artists to have gimmicks that hide their real faces and identities. It seemed like it’d be easy to blend in, in a crowd like that, and when he found out about vocaloids and holographic performers he was all but sold on giving it a go. It didn’t take him long to learn how to mix songs and with a theoretically infinite track list to draw on, he’s a natural talent at playing the crowd and keeping the energy in a room high. He loves DJing for nightclubs and raves the most, but he’s starting to gain a bit of fame and notoriety for both his talent and his very advanced ‘avatar’ and might end up dropping some of his own music and playing to larger venues sooner than later.

In his spare time, of which he has a lot, he likes the challenge of hunting down lost media. He has full access to the internet as well as several archives he probably should not have access to, but it’s very hard to keep him out of anywhere he wants to be—luckily, he chooses to use his nigh unfathomable power for good, digging around here, there, and everywhere for things deleted, destroyed, or locked off from the public. It’s like a treasure hunt, following leads and connecting clues until he finds the impossible thing he’s looking for…or doesn’t. Sometimes things that are gone really are gone, but other times it’s just that no one else had the spare time and resources to try and excavate a mention of a grandmother’s VHS copy of an obscure, out of circulation film on a deleted forum post from ten years ago, track down the user, ask after the tape and offer to purchase it to convert to a digital format…and if that doesn’t pan out, the search begins anew! How exciting!

His do-gooding doesn’t end at tracking and restoring old tapes, though, and he likes to spare some time for bigger acts of justice now and again. He’s a part-time hacktivist—he takes note of ongoing crime and corruption in human society and when he can, he shines a light on it. Leaking emails, posting blacklisted videos, releasing incriminating financial records, he has little respect for the privacy of crooked CEOs and corrupt politicians and feels it’s only right that their customers and constituents know these things about the people they’re supporting. His intervention tends to lead to a lot of resignations and restructuring and legal action being pursued, so he tries not to overstep too much with the business of humans, especially not for any old small-fry in the pond…but the big fish, the guys in the news with allegations that don’t stick because of money lack of evidence… Well, he doesn’t mind digging up that evidence, if the proper authorities really lack the time for it—you’re welcome!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans):

He’s very into spiritualism and all things mystical. His brush with the cosmically unknowable really expanded his perception and sense of things around him and he’s freshly fascinated by the things in this world beyond mortal comprehension, things he’s only glimpsed and felt more than he clearly understood. He loves reading or hearing about other peoples’ spiritual experiences—near-deaths, out-of-body’s, energies sensed and presences felt and many more—being let into the perspective of others who have been through things not easily explained and maybe getting a chance to share his own oddities in the process. He collects a lot of paraphernalia from the people and places he goes for these things, chakra bracelets, dreamcatchers, crystal pyramids and the like. He freely admits some of his items have stronger energies than others and theorizes that belief and intention in the creation of the object has an effect, you see the aura of this one feels—you get the idea, he could talk about it for hours.

He's also a very big fan of riddles! He knew a few before but has really gotten into them since, diving down the rabbit hole of riddles and tricky word puzzles. He finds the construction of them incredibly interesting, how specific words are chosen and phrases are structured to talk around the answer, carefully ringing around it to imply only and make the listener deduce the truth around its absence—just like how black holes are discovered by observing the warping of space around it! He has lots of riddle books and knows the answers to most of the basic ones out there, and he’s always open to hearing new ones, as well as coming up with some of his own from time to time. He takes his riddling quite seriously and will never look up the answer or allow anyone to tell him before he guesses—he wants to reason it out for himself, even if it takes him days to do it. If you manage to stump him, expect a call later on with the solution and exuberant praise for the gift you gave him!

A far more pedestrian and down-to-earth hobby of his, however, is pottery. Riddling and talking about the cosmos is all well and good, but it’s difficult actually meeting people to do those with—they don’t really have meet-ups for those sorts of things. But! They do have pottery classes, all over the place, welcoming beginners who are generally also open to making friends there, and he decided to go where the people were. It’s probably not something he would’ve been as happy doing before…Everything, reining in the urge to be great at it first try and do clean, neat work to impress people… but he doesn’t really think that way anymore, so he likes it! It's messy and mistakes are easy to make, both on the wheel and in the kiln, but that’s life and he’s learning same as everyone else. He gets to socialize, he gets to make stuff out of clay, and he gets so very many pots and mugs and bowls to give his friends and loved ones—a win-win-win!

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus):

He never used to put much effort into his wardrobe. He was anxious and introverted and never wanted to stand out too much, so he always aimed for under, rather than over-dressed. …But things changed. He’s more confident, he wants to stand out, he wants to look his best and dress himself in all the nice clothes he always thought he wasn’t cool enough to wear—so now, he does. He keeps his eye-socket on modern fashion trends, subscribing to magazines and tuning in to designer runways so he always knows what’s in and can coordinate his wardrobe accordingly. He's not necessarily a brand snob, he doesn’t subscribe to the idea that clothes (and accessories) need a label to look good, but at the same time, he won’t compromise on quality and sometimes that means paying for it. Still, he has a lot of fun keeping in style and taking more care in how he presents himself, and it turns into something of a confidence feedback loop—feeling good because he looks good because he feels good because…

With his newfound confidence, he’s also gotten into the habit of singing out loud. He hums tunes every now and again, surely everyone does, but now he sings, sometimes softly and sometimes belting out lyrics at full volume to whatever song floats through his head. What can he say? He’s started to like the sound of his own voice and it makes him feel good to hear how he sounds, and to feel how freely and beautifully the notes come out. Maybe it’s a little prideful but he doesn’t see the harm in making music and feeling good about it, so he sings when he’s occupied, when he’s idle, when he’s asked to—no special occasion necessary save for the joy of sound.

Of course, this also gives him something in common with some of his favorite creatures on the planet: birds. He likes animals and tends to be great with them—especially if he happens to use his ‘trick’—but he’s particularly fond of the feathered ones and the pretty sounds they make. He started learning how to mimic bird-calls (now that he’s not too self-conscious to feel stupid about it) and found he has a talent for it, getting all kinds of flighted friends to stop by and sing back when he chirps. He knows a lot of calls and can identify most local bird species by sound and sight, and it’s a favored party trick of his to push a little intent into his whistles and get wild birds to land on his finger like they were trained. He’s actually looking to break into falconry too, so he can keep and train a raptor someday, but there’s a lot of training and regulation involved in that sport and he’s not in any special kind of hurry. Plenty of birds to watch and sing to and play with in the meantime!

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans):

He’s been on his own for quite awhile. Granted, most of that time was unconscious in a semi-lucid dream-state, but that still left him pretty bereft of any meaningful company for a long damn time. He’s a social guy, he’s gotta make some connections with people at some point or it’s just gonna feed into his main character syndrome, so he starts getting involved in competitive team activities pretty much as soon as possible. At first it’s gaming—multiplayers, with mic enabled of course—when he’s still building his physical health back up, but once he’s clear for it he’s joining up with just about every team sport he can find. The Surface has plenty of options for him to choose from. Paintball? Definitely, get ready to meet your maker. Go-karting? Can’t believe it took so long to ask, let’s go. Axe-throwing? Oh hell yes, you know it! He’s competitive but a mostly good loser and hardly sore winner, so whatever the game he’s all in, just happy to be able to play.

When he’s solo and not actively burning energy, he…probably should be. He overproduces magic like a sonuvabitch, and if he’s not using it, that’s a problem—for him and everyone and everything around him. If he’s lacking something to do with his energy, and no other ways to expend it, the easiest thing to do is make a bunch of bullets. This, naturally, solves one problem while creating another and out of the abundance of bones lying around the place came the elegant solution of building with them. He uses his bone bullets like some (frat house) people use beer cans, stacking them together to make thrones chairs, tables, and towers. Sometimes he’ll jenga these structures, knock ‘em down to reuse the bullets for something else, but sometimes, if he's managed to stack up something particularly impressive, he’ll put in the extra effort to make them structurally sound and keep them as-is.

For all that he’s good at building things up, he takes just as much pleasure in taking them apart. He likes working with his hands, always has, opening something up and poking around inside to figure out what goes on in there. Unfortunately, and he’ll never admit as much out loud, he is…not very strong, physically—the big stuff, heavy duty machinery that takes a decent amount of elbow grease to get into is…a little bit beyond his ability, at least comfortably. By default, that leaves him with the little stuff to tinker with, clocks and watches, TVs and blenders, anything he can get his hands on and pop open without too much work. Clockwork mechanisms are his favorites to work with, the very tangible cause and effect of motion inside, but he’s no slouch with a soldering iron and more fiddly electronics are hardly any trouble. He likes fixing stuff that’s broken but it doesn’t have to be for him to want to disassemble something in working order, just for a quick look. Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing, he’ll put it right back—possibly in better condition than when he found it!

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus):

He has difficulty finding hobbies for himself, at first. Doing things he enjoys—much less expressing that he enjoyed them—was both forbidden and dangerous, so he’s in unexplored territory without explicit orders to do or not do something. Undyne gets him started with puzzles after noticing that he seemed to like solving them for her on patrols. A jigsaw seems as good as anything to start with, right? Well… yes, very much so, because he loves the medium instantly. One obvious solution (to assemble the pieces into a picture), no time constraint, and no way to do it incorrectly? It’s perfect! He graduates quickly from small, simple jigsaws to large, complex ones and loves being able to sit down with a few thousand pieces and slowly, steadily arrange them the way they’re supposed to be. He was given a massive, single-color monolith of a jigsaw once, as a joke…which completely didn’t land because it only took him a bit longer than usual and he loved it just as much. Go figure.

His brother gave him another hobby, upon remembering that he used to (as a toddler) like scribbling on paper, and gifted him a color-by-number book. It was a little juvenile, involved considerably less problem-solving than puzzles, but that’s really not a bad thing for him, giving him a task to do by rote that appeals to his creative side rather than the militaristic orders he got until that point. Eventually, as he gains independence and starts to feel more comfortable making choices of his own, he ditches the ‘by-number’ part but sticks with coloring, using watercolors and colored pencils to fill in pages of designs with whatever he wants. He finds it very relaxing and satisfying to do, and with encouragement even frames some of the pieces he’s proudest of. Friends and family may expect to receive them as gifts, especially if they’ve complimented one in particular—it’ll be theirs in short order without a second thought.

His most consuming hobby, however, is one he came to on his own: the care and keeping of fish. His first was a betta, a bright red fighting fish, drooping and still in a tiny little cup on a shelf—an impulse purchase he’d be hard-pressed to explain, especially with no animal experience whatsoever, much less specifically fish. But, he did it, and after that it was his responsibility to care for it, so he put in the research to determine its needs, the size of the tank, the pH balance of the water, the food and feeding schedule, environmental enrichment… It was a lot of work getting everything together but the reward in seeing the sad lifeless betta turn bright and active, thriving in the home he’d built for it, that was an addictive feeling. It wasn’t long until he was setting up more tanks, and buying lots more aquatic critters—tetras, cichlids, snails, guppies—to fill them with. He’s an extremely diligent and dedicated fish-dad and likes to sit and watch them swim the way some people watch TV.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans):

He knows his way around a needle and thread. He learned to sew out of pride necessity, learning to mend ripped and worn garments rather than having to beg for new on his or his brother’s behalf. It started as the lesser of two evils for him, but eventually he grew to enjoy it—work, of course, to have to close holes and hem and take in this and that, but work that he was generally left alone to do and not bothered for other things. It’s still that, but now that he doesn’t have a panopticon of a mocking prick judging his every action, he’s branching out into a bit more personal flair. He tried felting, with…poor results…but embroidery and needlepoint is working out considerably better. He’s still not especially creative so he prefers to work off patterns rather than freehand anything, and most of the things he stitches aren’t exactly to his own personal style, so a lot of his work gets donated but some things end up on the wall, others as patches for bags and jackets… It’s something to do.

…Making booze is also something to do. He didn’t exactly see it coming, something he kind of fell into. Per his brother’s preference, they’ve made their home in a wooded, mountainous area, and per his own preference, it’s secluded, a ways away from the town proper. Grocery runs every time there’s no more alcohol in the house (because somebody had company over and left a thimble in the bottle without telling anyone) is irritating, especially if he’s just getting home late and nowhere nearby is even open. A lot of locals get around the problem by simply brewing, fermenting, or distilling their own, and after looking into the process, he decided it was more than doable. He’s not much of a beer-drinker and never bothered with that, but he makes some damn good fruit wines if he says so himself, and a moonshine that’ll knock you on your ass if you’re not careful. His little operation is technically illegal—his favorite kind of illegal—but it's all for private use and he keeps to himself when he’s in town so he’s flying pretty low beneath the radar.

He is out of town a lot, mostly for work purposes, and passing through unfamiliar towns on the regular exposed him to quite a lot of postcard kiosks. He would look at them, think about his semi-estranged brother back home and how weird it would be, with their relationship being what it is, to call or text just to say ‘hey’ and… Well, eventually he bought one, scribbled a curt (coded) message on it, and sent it home before he could think better of it. Neither of them ever said anything about it, but he found it later on his desk when he got home with a scrawled reply back to what he’d written, and it kind of just spiraled into a thing from there. Anytime he goes somewhere, he finds a place to pick up a postcard to mail back, and when he gets home he tucks it (and the inevitable addition onto it) away in a binder for safekeeping. He takes a lot of care in the choosing and preservation of these cards and has a sizeable, growing collection.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus):

He’s a runner. There’s almost nothing he likes more than getting outside and taking off, jogging full speed to nowhere in particular until he’s out of breath and covered in sweat. He was cooped up for a long time in between specific missions and keeping pace on a treadmill just can’t compare to the free feeling he gets when he’s completely off-leash and can just go, as fast and as far as he wants to. Sometimes he’ll spice up his runs with a bit of parkour, clearing obstacles or scaling trees to take the branches for awhile, but he’s happy as long as he gets to let loose—sky above him, earth below, and nothing to call him back but his own limitations when he’s totally exhausted or he decides to be done.

For similar reasons, he’s interested in foraging. He likes nature and the outdoors, prefers it to anything indoors bar none, and the longer he can spend out in it without having to make his way back to civilization, the better. So, he started learning about the plants he sees—what’s edible, what’s not, what’s poisonous versus medicinal and so on. A lot of the info about it is geared towards humans rather than bioengineered skeletons so there’s still a learning curve, and a lot of things he's taken it upon himself to test out. He was built with a high metabolism and some natural poison resistance so he’s too cocky to be stopped from doing it, really, no matter how many times he’s called a reckless idiot for touching and ingesting possibly harmful substances. He's made a lot of interesting discoveries with regards to the local flora and only hardly gotten sick about it, so he counts it as a win.

He keeps track of said discoveries in his journal, which he takes out with him whenever he leaves the house for a nature walk (or run). He likes having it handy to note down things he does throughout the day, places he goes, things he sees… He never really got into art, not the way he could’ve, if things had been different, but he can scratch out some decent sketches to fill in the margins of his journal—the path down to the stream he found, the deer that only shed one antler, that berry that definitely did not agree with his metaphorical stomach, do not try again… His memory isn’t bad, exactly, but his mind and feet are both prone to wandering so it’s nice to have a log of his activities to look over later and put together things he missed at the time, or be reminded of stuff he wants to revisit. Most of his journaling is done halfway up a tree, sprawled along a branch with half an eye-socket on the view from up high.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans):

He wasn’t especially interested in plants or flowers, at least not until one started altering him—and the rest of monsterkind—in mind and body. That’s when he got interested and started studying. First the echo flower, its strange properties nearest and dearest to him, but gradually branching out to golden flowers, forevergreens, water sausages, any magical plant he can get his hands on to examine. Non-magical plants are equally fascinating, especially in their potential effects on humans—he knows probably an unsettling amount of flowers and greenery that are toxic to humans, the symptoms caused by contact or ingestion and how long it takes them to appear. Thankfully, he’s not much for the care and keeping of plants as keeping things alive seems like an awful lot of work. Still, he finds them interesting and has lots of botany and anthology books lying around, with leaves and petals dried and pressed between their pages. Did you know that the echo flower’s bioluminescence remains for up to three years after the bloom’s been clipped? Fascinating stuff.

Less of a passion but still at least an idle hobby, he can play a bit of piano. He’s self-taught—plunking out keys on the piano in Waterfall while passing through to entertain himself (and a little bit to annoy Undyne)—but though he can’t read sheet music or play any full length songs, he can tickle out a short tune by sound once he’s heard it at least once. He’s got a good ear for notes, despite not having any actual ears. It may actually be some kind of perfect pitch thing going on in his head but he should not be informed of this ever because he will hang on the word ‘perfect’ and be utterly insufferable about it. Mostly, he just uses this to play a few random notes whenever he comes across a keyed instrument, or to abruptly switch to an impromptu recreation of iconic horror scores to catch people by surprise. The theme from Halloween or the tubular bells from The Exorcist are favorites, but he’s unpredictable enough to learn more if you turn your back on him too long.

What he probably spends the most time on, however, is quilting. Perhaps a bit surprising, with his…everything else about him, but he’s a skeleton who values his creature comforts quite a bit, many of which have been made considerably more difficult for him to enjoy due to the ways his body has changed. In this particular case, it’s his reduced physical sensation making it nearly impossible to feel warm. He’s never cold anymore, not really, but he’s never warm either and he takes that quite personally, almost offended by the uselessness of thin clothing and scraps that dare to call themselves blankets. If there are no blankets thick enough and heavy enough get him warm, he’ll just have to make them himself…and so that’s what he does. Any passingly usable cloth in his possession tends to end up part of a quilt, with little care for patterning or overall design—his only priority is thick and heavy and warm, and if he doesn’t feel like he’s in a panini press by the time he’s finished, then it’s back to the drawing board.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus):

He maybe went a little bit nuts for awhile there after the human first left. Some might argue that he’s still a little bit nuts but he would agree he was pretty embarrassingly desperate in the first few years after. They were gone and they weren’t answering their phone and for everything they’d done, they had been his friend so…he was worried! But of course, monsters were trapped, with hope of leaving anytime soon soundly dashed, so he couldn’t just go look for them. He wanted to reach them, or just someone on the Surface who could relay a message. That’s how he started experimenting with radio, out of a misguided and impossible attempt to communicate out of the Underground with someone up there. He never reached anyone from down there, of course, but he found some comfort in trying—and eventually, enjoyment too! He likes fiddling with the equipment to tune into different frequencies, and the sound of empty static is soothing to him. It’s a lot more fun now that he’s aboveground and can actually hear other people, and he hopes to get his license to transmit himself soon!

Before the Surface, though, things were a little lonelier for him. Colder, darker. Too dark entirely—of course a dark environment was necessary to promote the growth of their staple crop and the artificial day-cycles were only making monsters waste more time sleeping than they already were, he understood the need for the dark…but surely, it didn’t have to be so complete? How was anyone to know that he was at home and available to host company if there were no warm, inviting lights in the window? Candles seemed the perfect solution, natural light from flickering fires that wasn’t too harsh, still a bit dim but plenty to see by! He started just collecting them so he would always have them on hand if needed, but eventually started making them himself with wax on the stove. Scent or color don’t matter much to him, but he really likes being able to customize the size and shape to his needs. And his needs…aren’t so much anymore, now that there’s regular sunlight, but candles are still great for when there isn’t, and when electric lights are little too intense. It never hurts to have more candles around, for emergencies!

He's also exploring a new hobby up on the surface, inspired by his and his brother’s new careers—bone collecting! Now, it’s not what you’re thinking, he’s not after human bones. Those are still very much in use by the deceased, and he's sure surviving loved ones would be very cross if tried to just take them! But his job was how he learned that humans and other organic, non-magical creatures all contain skeletons of their own and when they die everything but the bone rots away. He thinks it’s very cool and obviously humans are off the table to inspect more closely, but animals don’t mind. He takes note of any dead creatures he happens to find—mostly birds and squirrels—and after allowing the other local wildlife to have first pick at it, he collects the remains to take home. He isn’t overly fond of the smells and textures of rot and asked for his brother to help with the de-fleshing and degreasing with the first few things he brought back, but he's got a handle on it now and loves to artfully display his cleaned finds all around the house. Skulls are his favorite, but he has some lovely wishbones and plenty of vertebrae that he’s equally proud of showing off!

[kalopseance]

today (15th march 2024) we had to put our cat down. she lived a good long life. i was with her til the end holding her paw.

when it comes to death, id never really experienced the loss of a loved one until a few months back when my grandma died. i shed alot more tears for my cat today than i shed for her. i've had this cat with me for most of my life. every time i feel like im a bit composed i start crying again. even though id never experienced loss really until very recently, death has been a subject that fascinates me. i projected alot of my feelings onto the character here, mendacium. my grim reaper oc who cherishes love. ive joked before that mendacium has almost evolved past being an oc and ive said like...im not religious or spiritual. but if there is any kind of entity that controls death? im more likely to believe in the existence of mendacium than any actual religious figure. (....that's a joke...mostly...)

so the thought of him around to take care of my kitty now that shes gone helps comfort me.

rest easy kitty ❤️ you were loved.

[anonypussi]

Inquisitor Cal shows a good time to Jedi Cal

for @hereforthefanficsandromance ily 😘

I wrote this for miss V's fan fiction (cause im cray-cray)

MDI | Cal x Cal (yes you read that right) | Inquisitor!Cal x Jedi!Cal

Warnings: choking, light degradation, themes of BDSM, face humping, unprotected sex, proceed with caution (or with excitement idk you do you)

Cal was four holographic films into the night and about ten strokes away from finishing himself off when he sensed it.

Immediately, his erection flagged out of sheer shock like a sail that lost its wind because no way— no way was he mistaking the face staring back at him through the doorway of his cabin.

He scrambled, because how the fuck did he miss this person stumbling into his ship while he was preoccupied? The molten embarrassment makes itself known on his face as shoves his dick back into his underwear. There was no way to play this off, it was so obvious what he was doing alone in his room— and he was not going to take the entire blame for this awkward situation.

“Oh shit-“ he began, getting up quickly to get this person off the ship so he can just fly away and pretend it has never happened. He definitely did not get walked on jacking off alone by a stranger (he will never sleep right after this). He couldn’t even look at this person in their eyes without feeling the crushing shame through his veins. “Hey, what are you doing-”.

He stops abruptly, his thoughts fleeting out the window. His eyes were solely trained on the infamous white insignia on the stranger’s chest, which he bleakly realizes is a breastplate being worn by no one else other than an Imperial Inquisitor.

Great. Not only did he get walked on jacking off. He got busted jacking off by a fucking Imperial Inquisitor. If Cal wasn’t already shifting into defensive, the Force reinforcing the wall around his consciousness and flinging his lightsaber into his hand, he would have gone hysterical with how absurd this situation was.

Yep. He has to kill this motherfucker. Screw the Jedi principles. He refuses to let this Inquisitor he just met yet go back to their lair and make jokes about his dick. They would never let him live it down- oh gods now all of his future interactions with the Galactic Empire’s Inquisitors would involve innuendos.

How the fuck is he going to explain this to-

“I’m not here to fight you,” the Inquisitor said. Cal’s eyes flicked to its face after trying to stare a hole into its breastplate. His mind went blank and he froze.

Because that’s his face. The Inquisitor is wearing his own face.

Did they clone him?

The Inquisitor sighs in irritation. “Will you listen to me?” He growls, Cal becomes fascinated with how his eyebrows scrunch in anger and how his jaw clenches while swallowing. He continues, “Or do I have to force you to listen to me?”

Cal almost laughs. Force to? Typical.

He takes a breath instead. He doesn’t really want to have a fight in his own ship, wearing only his underwear while his opponent is fully decked out in full gear. He doesn’t raise his lightsaber, noting that his opponent- his twin hasn’t pulled out his own weapon, yet. Cal eyes at the dark uniform, taking in the sleek black clothes and protective plates. He sees the red glow right next to the unmistakable small signature imperial logo printed on his left breast.

This was it. He was looking at his worst fear, of submitting to the delicious veil of the dark side of the Force. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the golden orbs on his face, the same orbs he sees on his enemies.

Anger. Hate. Fear. Power.

He doesn’t even recognize himself. He is not Cal. He has his face, his body, eyes, nose, everything. However, the way how this person- this monster carries himself at first impression, was unmistakably not Cal. He forced himself to not flinch as the monster sighed and stepped back, away from him.

His heart seized, and his breath cut off at the horrifying realization that his only family left wouldn’t distinguish them physically. What if this clone hurts his f-

“CAL.”

His eyes focus directly on this Inquisitor, who snapped him out of his own turmoil. The monster stares at him back, his face completely devoid of emotions as his eyes analyze his copy (the better copy of himself).

Cal knew what he needed to do.

“How did you get on my ship?” He asked, willing his voice to not crack as he stoically stared at the man. The inquisitor purses his lips and Cal does not miss how his eyes looked at his saber.

“You were at the bar downtown.” 

Cal blinked at him. “What?”

“By coincidence,” he continued, clearly not impressed with Cal, his eyes boring into the Jedi as if saying keep up with me, will you? “We used the same cup, I saw you. And knowing you, I figured you’d hide your ship here.”

Yeah, that explains why there are two Cal Kestis in this universe. 

Cal didn’t let up his lightsaber. “And you’re me. But you’re-”

“An Inquisitor?” The man interrupted, his expression finally deviating from blank to a mocking curiosity. “Clearly,” he says, setting his hands on his hips and Cal could already do that by habit, the way his gloved fingers rest easily on the belt. “I was on a task to retrieve this artifact, we thought it was a form of Holocron, however when I activated it, it brought me here, and I knew this place was not my home.”

“Right. And you expect me to help you?”

“Is it your job to hunt down Inquisitors?” He snarled, irritation finally coming through his stoic facade. “Helping me would keep the number of those fucks the same, not helping me would just add more problems for you.”

Cal bristled, clearly not wanting to deal with this and do something else entirely different. “Why not go to your brothers and sisters?”

Thirteenth scoffed. “Would you rather me go to them over you? Kriff, you know how to hurt my feelings.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I’m literally you,” He exasperated as if that was the clear answer to his questions. “I flew this piece of junk before,” Cal grimaced at the Inquisitor’s insult. “Can you at least put that damn thing down?”

Cal didn’t need a moment to decide on that.  “No.”

The Inquisitor pursed his lips and kept his eyes on his opponent. Cal holds onto his gaze as he tries to forget what he was doing earlier before this confrontation. The messy sheets behind him and the damning bottle of lube really didn’t help him do that. The silence was just awkward. Cal couldn’t tell if the Inquisitor even wanted to fight him after walking in on him. This is what is happening, right?

The Inquisitor backed off, now slouching his shoulders as if he wanted to make himself look smaller, more harmless. “Fine,” he exhaled and moved his hand to reach for the weapon strapped to his back. Cal adjusts his position, mentally preparing himself for a nasty fight in such a tight space. 

He sees the signature weapon, expecting it to ignite bold red.

Except that didn’t happen. The Inquisitor chucked it at him unkindly, clearly annoyed with him. Cal disengages his weapon and catches the chucked lightsaber after it bounces off his chest, glancing at it with disgust and judgment with its design.

“Now I’m defenseless,” the evil clone stated. Cal blinked at the hidden memories the Inquisitor held with his weapon. He felt the disgust at how many people were slain, the disgust of how his clone was able to carry out such atrocities with no hint of remorse on his face. “Do you trust me?”

Cal would have said no if he didn’t see the other memories. Memories of the Inquisitor, being more Cal than a bloodthirsty soldier of the Galactic Empire. He sees him volunteering at a very cozy library that is hidden away from the peering eyes of the Empire, talking to passerby and their children as they venture through the walls of books. He sees him purposely thwarting imperial soldiers from finding force-sensitive children more than a dozen times over the years. He sees him kill Fifth Brother for threatening to kill someone Thirteenth Brother clearly cared about.

He sees him fighting against a fallen Jedi, a newly formed Inquisitor, Fourteenth, pleading with him to not fully succumb to the dark side of the Force, to endure the long road of redemption, with him.

So his clone’s name is Thirteenth Brother. But he goes by Cal when he doesn’t want to be a monster an Inquisitor.

But once an Inquisitor is always an Inquisitor.

“You know I won’t trust you,” Cal started saying before realizing what he was even saying to Thirteenth. “But I will help you return home. Do you have the artifact with you?”

Thirteenth visibly relaxed, his features almost softened “Glad you asked,” he said and he reached behind once more to grab something from his satchel. “Right here,” he pulls out the cube that resembles a Holocron, glowing eerie green as it dimmed and lightened periodically. Cal almost wanted to step closer to the Inquisitor to inspect it himself, fingers itching towards the object.

Thirteenth smirked with a glint of unkindness in his eyes. “However,” he began, Cal braced himself, already knowing whatever he was going to say would sting. “Before we get into that, I’m giving you a chance to get your dick wet before we proceed. Straight back to your cabin alone after drinks is just sad.”

Cal blinked. His mind went blank for a second as Cal.exe rebooted. Then the feeling of embarrassment comes back in full force and Cal seethes at his clone for making fun of him for jerking off alone. They are literally the same person. “Don’t even bring that up!” He exclaimed defeatedly and Thirteenth chuckled at him.

He hoped this would be a swift mission for both of them.

______________________________________

The atmosphere is thick with tension.

Almost suffocating.

Every movement is deliberate, every breath heavy with suppressed emotion. The air crackles with the electricity of their simmering anger, each moment stretching out as they refuse to be the first to break the silence. Cal found himself inhaling sharply over every small little thing he immediately found irritating, knowing that his emotions were being influenced by Thirteenth’s simmering rage through the Force. Kriff sake, he couldn't even wash the dishes without feeling the urge to grab a plate and throw it at Thirteenth.

Thirteenth is currently fixing up the wiring behind the subspace transceiver underneath the holographic pod. Cal would have felt appreciative for his double to help him out with that, but all he felt was annoyance because he knew Thirteenth wasn’t fixing that out of the goodness of his heart.

What heart, Cal thought spitefully.

Thirteenth's fingers tighten around the tool in his hand, knuckles turning white with the effort to contain his frustration. He shoots a glance in Cal's direction, eyes narrowed with resentment but quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to give Cal the satisfaction of seeing his agitation.

Cal's jaw works in tight, controlled movements, muscles twitching with the effort to keep his anger in check. His grip on the last dirty mug tightens as he struggles to contain the torrent of words threatening to spill from his lips.

Instead, Cal calmly shuts off the water facet and makes his way to his cabin. He needs to get his clothes off of him, put on some comfort clothes and forget the entire fucking thing.

The ‘entire fucking thing’ involves no one other than Boba Fett. Not only Cal’s man-crush has caused this tension, fucking Thirteenth made the entire situation almost damn unliveable. Cal did not want to walk in on Thirteenth screwing Boba Fucking Fett in a dirty alleyway, hear their moans and grunts of pleasure, and Cal sure has hell did not need Thirteenth to catch him looking and give him a show.

Thirteenth knew Cal liked him, and he went ahead to fuck him and brag it in his face. Now, Cal can't even take up bounty contracts with Fett in the future without the blinding embarrassment that threatens to crush him.

All he needed to do was walk to his cabin, change his clothes, and call it a night. Yes, he has to walk past Thirteenth to get to the cabin, but he's a grown-up. He can handle the tension.

But, also, fuck Thirteenth.  

Thirteenth is now looking at him with an expectant expression on his face. He finishes up the repairs as he drills the metal sheet back up, his eyes not leaving Cal as he tries to walk past Thirteenth and ignore him.

With a sharp inhale, Cal’s plans were thrown to the gutter as Thirteenth’s voice cut through the silence like a lightsaber.

“You are being pathetic.”

Oh, fuck you, you son of a Bantha.

Cal turns, all common sense thrown out of the ship as he steps closer to Thirteenth menacingly. Thirteenth obviously doesn't flinch at his antics. Cal had enough of this man. He was rightfully pissed and Thirteenth is the asshole if he refuses to see his perspective. “I’m not the one who got some dick instead of doing our job,” Cal hissed.

Thirteenth’s amusement was blatantly clear on his face, and Cal had to resist the urge to deck him.

“At least I’m not so pathetic that I have to jerk off alone every time. I man up and fuck around.”

“You always had to bring that up?” Cal exclaims with annoyance. 

Thirteenth is acting like a child. A fucking child. And he's an Inquisitor.

Yep, this is when he walks away.

Cal sighs and turns around to proceed to his cabin, praying to the Force that Thirteenth is not sadistic enough to follow him and continue bickering. His patience was falling apart at its seams and Thirteenth followed him, not letting up the argument for a moment.

“Are you angry at me because you don’t trust me enough to let me run off for a few hours? Or is it the fact I fucked your stupid crush and you didn’t?”

“Shut up,’ Cal groaned exasperated, rolling his eyes hard at Thirteenth as he threw his coat on the dresser.  

“You stayed around a lot longer than you should have,” Thirteenth pointed out and Cal froze for a sliver of a second and continued to pull out his bedclothes to play it off. “Did you like watching me get fucked by big, strong men?” Thirteenth asked, his voice low and dark, like telling a dirty secret. It was gravelly, even more than it usually was, scratching away Cal’s self-control like sandpaper on wood. “Did you enjoy watching me beg and cry for it?”

Cal had to swallow hard.

Thirteenth’s eyelids slid low over his eyes, practically fluttering his eyelashes at Cal, the memory of Thirteenth’s lustful gaze on him while Fett thrust into him came back to mind.

Kriff.

“Did you want to do that to me?” Thirteenth purred with a mean sneer. His eyes darted to Cal’s wet lips then back to his eyes. “Hold me down and make me cry? Call you ‘sir’?”

Cal let out a gasp, breath stuck in his throat and he looked at the door behind Thirteenth, trying to judge if he could get away from just sprinting out and never coming back. Cal looks back to Thirteenth before he can let the man extract his thoughts from his mind and figure out his plan.

Only when he looked at Thirteenth, he could see the realization dawning in his expression and absolute glee dancing in his eyes, like all of his wishes came true all at once.

“Or maybe,” Thirteenth said slowly. His other hand came up to unclasp the belt around his (borrowed) coat, letting the bag fall to the ground. Cal felt like he was suffocating on Thirteenth’s stare. He swallowed a lump down his throat.

“Or maybe you want all that to be done to you,” Thirteenth hissed.

Cal was fucked.

Triumph broke out on his face— bright and glorious. His eyes glowed a dark hue of red as the Force entwined the two souls through mutual lust as if this was what they were meant to do.

“You do want me to do that to you.”

Cal wanted to say no. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to shove Thirteenth away and take a lightsaber and cut him down on this spot, maybe even punch him if he needed to— anything except look at him like a Jawas caught stealing a droid red-handed.

Thirteenth stepped closer, right into Cal’s personal space, his hand raised to cup his jaw, his thumb stroking Cal’s lower lip.

“I can do it,” he murmured. His voice was laced with promise and lust. “I had my fair share of brats, and I know how to satisfy their needs.” His hand lowered to firmly grasp Cal’s throat, tilting his face up, and Thirteenth asked, “Do you want me to, Jedi?”

No no no no no no n-

“Put you on your knees,” Thirteenth continued, “smack your ass until it’s cherry red and fuck your mouth afterwards? With no regard if you can breathe?”

Cal wanted to die, wanted to disintegrate and his ashes to fly away in the wind.

Thirteenth’s eyes gentled, the red glow fading away, and he leaned in closer. Too close. Close enough that Cal can breathe his breath.

“Let me have you,” Thirteenth whispered. His tone was no longer teasing, he no longer sounded like he was taunting him, playing with his desires and prancing about fucking other people while Cal desperately hold true to his Jedi values.

Now, he sounded pleading. Pleading. Begging.

Cal’s eyes shut, and his head fell back against the wall. He made a soft noise as lust nearly overtook his self-control. Maybe it was noise to remind himself that this was not a wet dream.

Thirteenth took that as a sign to make a move. He leaned in even further into Cal’s throat, to dip his nose at the length of his column, breathing him in, barely touching his skin other than his hand holding him still.

The hand on his throat should have scared Cal, but it didn’t. It was reassuring, his neck on fire where skin met skin, touch light enough to gently pet a cat.

Cal broke, the Force dropping his walls as Thirteenth’s overpowering presence seeped into his consciousness like tea in hot water. The lust he could feel from him snapped all of Cal’s thoughts as his neurons overloaded.

“Okay,” Cal whispered in response with the quietest voice he could muster like he was hoping this was not real.

Thirteenth responded to that by pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath the corner of his jaw, under his ear, a firm kiss, but nothing more. Then he nosed his way up to Cal’s ear to whisper into it, “Undress for me. I want everything off.”

Cal stepped back almost abruptly, letting Thirteenth’s hand fall from his throat, but he didn’t make a move, like a predator waiting for their dying prey to succumb so they could feast on them lazily.

Cal felt a burning blush creep up his neck and into his face, heating up the rest of his body. There were tremors underneath his skin that he knew had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with desperation and sheer arousal in his blood. His cock was hard beneath his pants, which did not hide it, but Thirteenth didn’t have to see it to know how it looked.

With the greatest effort, Cal pulled his shirt off, his eyes never leaving Thirteenth’s gaze as he was being watched. He saw how Thirteenth’s eyes dropped down to his chest, slurping up all the detail in the dimmed lighting. This gave Cal the courage to shuck his pants down and prays that Thirteenth would not take this opportunity to make fun of him going commando underneath his clothes.

Cal stood naked, and the Inquisitor stayed clothed. Cal wanted to reach forward, say fuck this, and just rip every article of clothing off of him. However, he stayed put, and there was a small fear in the back of Cal’s mind that this was some elaborate joke and that Thirteenth was cruel enough to pull this prank on him.

Turns out that being Force-sensitive does not grant full transparency between two men who sought a deeper connection. Thirteenth takes this hesitation from Cal as second-guessing and doubts, he looks back up into Cal’s eyes, searching for something, Cal didn’t know. His eyes flickered over every inch of it as if committing every feature and comparing it to himself.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured quietly, and the silence in the room was loud enough to hear a pin drop. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Cal remained silent, but he reached up to put a hand delicately on the back of Thirteenth’s neck and pulled him down for a proper kiss.

Thirteenth seemed to melt against him, just falling into him and using his entire weight to push Cal back and up against the wall. The kiss that Cal had initiated had been taken over completely by Thirteenth.

He pressed his mouth harder and harder against Cal’s own, using the wall as leverage to do so. Their teeth clicked together with the pressure, and almost unconsciously, Cal parted his lips.

Thirteenth made a soft groan at that, a desperate noise that sent a shudder through Cal’s body.

How long, he wondered, how long had Thirteenth wanted this too?

The thought floated away as Thirteenth’s tongue was licking its way into Cal’s mouth. All that remained was the hard line of Thirteenth’s body against his front, pinning him to the wall against his back, and the wet heat of his mouth, devouring him. Cal let out a breathy sound as the Inquisitor rutted his thigh against his groin.

“I want to suck you,” Cal breathed out, taking the opportunity to rut against Thirteenth’s still-fully-clothed thigh. “Please,” he added for good measure, knowing every Inquisitor is the same.

They all lust for begging of any sort.

And to Cal’s delight, Thirteenth fell for that trap.

Thirteenth stepped back to give Cal just enough room for his commands. Cal almost whined at the loss of bodily contact and the delicious friction. He was almost lightheaded from the amount of lust he was drowning in, trying to stay afloat while the tendrils under the water pulled him under by his foot.

“Kneel.”

That simple command meant everything to the both of them for the night. Thirteenth is not simply asking him to stick his dick in his mouth. He was asking for submission, and Cal was not known for submission. Especially to the Empire. However, this was Thirteenth, himself, and Cal would submit to himself.

Cal kneeled, eyes never leaving Thirteenth’s face as he relished in the look of satisfaction on his own face. The hunger grew in his eyes as he looked predatory. Cal’s dick jumped pathetically at the sight as it hung between his thighs, exposed to Thirteenth’s judgment entirely.

“Convince me to fuck you,” he commanded, and if it wasn’t for the lust restraining Cal’s ego, he would have got annoyed at him and snarked back.

Instead, he reached up to the hem of Thirteenth’s trousers and gingerly pulled out his cock from its confines. Cal closed his eyes from the smell of his own sex filling the room and he had to hold back a sound after the fire went through his veins and through his groin.

Cal opened his eyes and looked up to Thirteenth, trying to copy the expression he saw on Thirteenth when he found him with Fett and gave him a firm lick up the shaft. Cal didn’t give him a moment to react when he wrapped his mouth around his cock and sucked.

“Damn,” Thirteenth hissed, tossing his head back in response to the assault.

It was an assault, a reckless takedown of Thirteenth’s walls. With every vicious suck of Cal’s lips, every stroke of Cal’s fist, every lick of Cal’s tongue, Thirteenth felt himself crumbling down to bare himself completely to Cal.

He could not let that happen.

Thirteenth’s foot kicked open Cal’s thighs and a shin pressed against his groin, Cal choked a moan and barely stopped himself from gagging on the dick deep in his throat, he grabbed onto Thirteenth’s thighs tightly.

Thirteenth tipped his foot on its toes and down, grinding his shin against Cal’s groin and he grabbed Cal by the back of his head to thrust into him deeper. Thirteenth’s instructions were clear, and Cal let out a choked breath as he compiled.

Not that he didn’t want to grind against Thirteenth’s shin (more like ankle with how low his hips are now) for his pleasure, but the thought of it, rutting against an inquisitor’s leg like a dog, was humiliating and satisfying in equal measure.

Thirteenth groaned deeply at the sight, his voice sending vibrations through his chest cavity and his body, Cal redoubled his efforts to not abandon the cock in his mouth to focus solely on humping his leg.

He could feel his legs aching from the floors, his thighs burning for the small circular motions for his groin and his jaw sore from holding it open for a prolonged period. The intense eye contact with Thirteenth has stopped Cal from noting his discomfort as he stares at the golden orbs, desperate to prove his worth by repaying him with pleasure.

Thirteenth’s pace has increased to the point where he was painfully grabbing Cal’s hair to move his mouth faster, his thrusts hard enough to press into his face as he desperately tries not to gag on his dick, and fails to do that. As Thirteenth abuses his mouth, Cal in return grabs onto the leg he was using with both hands and grinds hard against it, taking it as he pleases.

Even though Thirteenth has completely put him into submission, Cal still wants to compete with him. He would not fall apart yet, not before the inquisitor. He can feel the Force surrounding Thirteenth rapidly crumble with each thrust, exposing the man’s feelings to Cal as his protective wall evaporates with each pant he releases.

Cal’s entire body is burning, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop until he proves himself to him.

For what though?

Thirteenth curses, eyes opening wide as they had slid shut after Cal let him fuck his mouth, the inquisitor curses more and abruptly pulls Cal off of him, one hand tangled in his hair with a grip, holding the Jedi in place to look at him.

Cal coughed and took his opportunity to catch his breath as he held eye contact with Thirteenth, not ignoring how he could see the trembling underneath clothes and the flush on his copy’s face, he noted at the red lips glistening wet as Thirteenth had been biting it to muffle his noises.

Before Cal could start teasing him for not being able to hold onto it for much longer, Thirteenth beat him to it, his hand gripped his hair again and this time, he gripped it tight, painful so that Cal cried out a little. He used that hand to push Cal's face harder against his cock and thrust up against his cheek, rubbing himself off on him.

It felt hot and filthy and a little embarrassing, all the requirements needed to drive Cal out of his fucking mind.

“You are such a whore for my cock,” Thirteenth groaned. The words sound like they were supposed to be cruel, but the tone he said was delighted. “This is what you wanted. Me rutting against you?”

Cal moaned in agreement. His cock was dripping, but he kept his hands on Thirteenth’s shaking thighs while Thirteenth rubbed off on his face.

“Fucking look at you,” he hissed, fingers tightening even more and shaking him a little, making Cal cry out more. “You’re getting off on this, being used like this.”

Oh Fuck, Cal realized, I can come just from this.

Thirteenth seemed to realize the same thing. To Cal’s relief (or disappointment), Thirteenth pulled back from him, grunting when the Jedi got in one last lick on his cock while pulling away. His hand is still tangled in Cal’s hair and he pulls him up, forcing Cal to get up.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, and Cal internally pumps his fist in the air for what is about to happen. As the grip left his hair, Cal plopped himself on the comfy mattress, realizing the duvet was off and folded neatly into the corner. Cal wondered if Thirteenth planned this all out.

The thought was interrupted when Thirteenth suddenly grabbed one of his ankles and pulled him closer to the edge of the mattress. He felt the tendrils of Thirteenth’s force assisting the pull as Cal was brought closer to the Inquisitor with little effort. Before Cal could make a move, Thirteenth gripped his throat, and pushed him back down to the mattress, gently to Cal’s surprise.

The Thirteenth looked good from above. He looked divine, with the look of hunger in his eyes and lips wet with wanton. And he was finally naked to Cal’s delight.

Cal couldn’t stop staring at the lips.

Thirteenth slowly inches closer, close enough that Cal could taste his breath. Thirteenth licked his bottom lip, and Cal could only whimper and try to kiss back in return.

Thirteenth’s worship was efficiently quick as he went from kissing and licking into Cal’s mouth, tasting their precome together, he moved to under Cal’s jaw, bit his ear before kissing down the column of his throat, biting into his skin, and all Cal could do was lay there helplessly and bite his tongue.

Thirteenth’s spare hand strummed Cal’s ribs gently before it circled around his nipple, making Cal squirm. A strangled yelp escaped Cal as Thirteenth pinched it, but Cal held perfectly still as he moaned.

“Oh good boy,” Thirteenth murmured, full of delight. He moved down to suck in Cal’s other nipple as he kept pinching the same nipple.

“Thirt- Cal-“ 

“Try again.”

Cal’s mind went blank while Thirteenth continues to play with his fucking chest. He couldn’t think straight and could only grunt as Thirteenth pulled painfully at his nipple, before resting it and soothing it with his tongue or fingertips. Cal had to think what he said wrong, and then it dawned on him.

“Sir,” Cal whispered, “please.”

Thirteenth prompted forward, like a rope snapping, and bit Cal’s ear and licked it and Cal could only moan.

Fucking hell.

“I don’t care if you come,” Thirteenth growled right into his ear, “I prefer you like this, desperate and needy. If you want to come, you better convince me” Then he flipped Cal onto his front against the mattress and manhandled his legs to expose himself to the Inquisitor.

Before Cal could feel any sense of shame (there was none), a hard smack landed on his ass, making him shout. It was hard enough to leave a handprint, he imagined, and it only made him tilt his hips more to expose more of his ass.

“Liked that?” Thirteenth asked mockingly as if he couldn’t read all of Cal’s soul through the Force, just like Cal could sense deep desire and lust through Thirteenth.

Cal did not answer as he decided he was not going to further validate that asshole.

Another hard smack landed in the same place, and Cal grunted loudly once more, his cock pulsing and a bead of pre-come slowly dripping from his shaft and onto the sheets.

Cal could feel the smugness from Thirteenth, motherfucker didn’t even bother to try to hide it. Another smack on the other cheek drove Cal forward and flattened himself on the mattress, a broken sound out of him and another smack had him whimpering.

He could feel both of Thirteenth’s hands grip his hips to force him to get his ass back up. Thirteenth smacked him again, and again, and again until Cal couldn’t bother muffling his cries. His ass was hot, throbbing in pain. Hiding his noises was the least of his worries.

And Thirteenth slid his fingers up the crease of his ass, caressing his hole lightly, Cal gave in and begged, “Please.”

“Finally you submit to me,” he hears him murmur in approval. Thirteenth pressed his fingers to Cal’s rim and rubbed the outside of it lightly. Cal pants as he holds back his moans and lets the inquisitor fondle him.

The fingers withdrew, and before Cal could decide to start mouthing at Thirteenth to do something to him, he heard the man move towards his bedside table to find the lube and condoms.

Cal looked over to the condoms in Thirteenth’s hand and a thought came just as quickly Cal tried to squash it before Thirteenth could hear it through the Force, however, it was pointless as Thirteenth looked back to Cal with a sharp inhale, dropping the condoms back into the nightstand.

“You are a slut,” Thirteenth murmured and gods, that should not have sent a violent wave of lust through Cal’s body.

Cal shut his eyes and rested his head against his arms as he held his ass up, he could feel his legs trembling from overstimulation and exertion. He fights down the humiliation of succumbing to Thirteenth’s dominance. 

He finches and wills himself to not pull away as he poured lube on his ass and in between his cheeks, with full disregard for how cold the lube felt on Cal’s skin. He felt Thirteenth return to fondling his ass, and when he pushed two into him at once, they went with little friction. Still some resistance though as Cal’s ass burned from the intrusion. He cried out a broken pathetic sound and arched his back like a cat getting that good scratch on its back.

“Good,” Thirteenth hissed, both mocking and sincere. “Fuck yourself on my hand, show me how much you want my dick. Beg for it and then maybe I’ll let you come.”

Cal hates this man.

But he wanted this. Thir- Cal was doing everything he wanted. They were fully transparent with each other and the Force-

The Force unexplainably acted as a catalyst, a bond between them.

Cal let out a moan before he started to roll his hips, and another when he felt the delicious pressure of Thirteenth’s fingers on his prostate.

“More,” Cal whimpered.

“Try again,” Thirteenth cajoled. His fingers split apart, stretching Cal open with little kindness, and Cal couldn’t help but rise up on his toes and cry out, “Please!”

“Please what?” Thirteenth demanded.

“Please fuck me with your cock. Please fuck me, Sir,” Cal sobbed, shutting his eyes and pressing his face into the mattress to smother out his embarrassment as humiliation slithered through his spine. But he has already crossed the point of no return. There was no coming back from this, so he could only proceed forward. “I want you inside me, you to split me open and fuck me up. Please I’ll do anything,” he whimpered.

Thirteenth hummed in approval and kissed the back of his tailbone. “Dangerous promise,” he praised, and Cal tried not to lose his mind on him because otherwise, Thirteenth would have that power over him. “Good boy.”

And he felt a wet dick nudging against his hole. Cal scrambled to move his hands to spread his cheeks for Thirteenth. When he pushed himself in, it slid with ease of extra lubrication that Thirteenth put on himself without Cal’s attention.

Cal moaned and moved his hands back to the mattress for leverage to look back at the Inquisitor, curiosity burning in his gut to see what he looked like from above.

And Gods. Gods. Is this what he looks like when he fuck?

The heavy gaze Thirteenth had on him held Cal into place, like a siren soothing the sailor to look at them. His eyes held promise as he slurped up all of Cal’s features, committing it to memory.

Then, Thirteenth darted a hand to the back of Cal’s neck, gripping it painfully and forcing him back onto the mattress roughly. Cal yelped before he was smothered into the mattress, he barely could turn his head to breathe as Thirteenth held him down like he was a wild animal. Cal groaned as he stayed put, and screamed when Thirteenth violently thrust into Cal’s ass with little regard for comfort or pleasure. He grunted with each thrust that drove Cal further up on the mattress. Cal had enough consciousness to throw his hands up the best he could while being pinned to avoid bringing himself into the wall.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” Cal was chanting through his sobs, doing his best to stay in position for Thirteenth as his legs shook with fervour.

“You have until I finish to come, or you won’t come at all,” Thirteenth growled through harsh breaths of effort. “You are mine now, Jedi. You don’t get to come without my permission.” Cal sobbed out something akin to an agreement. Kriff- yes. Yes, he wanted this. He craved this and he finally got it. He wanted to come for Thirteenth. “You won’t be able to come with anyone else. I am ruining you for everyone. You won’t be able to come without me.”

Cal just yelled in response, tears ready to leave his eyes as he breathed harshly against the now-wet mattress under his face. He was so close. So so close-

Thirteenth stopped and Cal could have started a whole new war over that.

Before Cal could let his rage consume his horniness and get angry at Thirteenth for fucking stopping when he was just right there. Thirteenth pulled out and grabbed him again, manhandling him onto his back. 

Thirteenth then grabbed his legs to wrap around his waist and used the same hand that held him down previously to choke him into the mattress. Cal inhales pitifully as he struggled and his dick jumped, he stares at Thirteenth, eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep them open on his face and moaned loudly as he was fucked brutally again.

Cal was getting off on the feral look on Thirteenth’s face as he increased his pace. The grip on his neck tightened again and the grip on his hip left bruises, and his thrusts grew harder and erratic, slamming into Cal harshly with every single one. 

Cal whimpered as he took every thrust without complaint, Thirteenth was saying something but went unheard as Cal could only hear the roaring white noise in his ears. Thirteenth moved his grip on his neck to the back and he moved himself lower to breathe into Cal’s sweaty neck. Before Cal could consider moving his hands to Thirteenth’s back and feel the muscles working, Thirteenth bent over to bite the skin around Cal’s nipple and suck it into his mouth.

When Cal cried out, Thirteenth started fucking him in earnest.

Cal knew he was moaning and crying and whimpering, but he couldn’t gather enough focus to worry about it. He could only feel, not think— feel Thirteenth sucking on his tit, feel Thirteenth fucking him like a beast.

Thirteenth grunted with the force of every thrust, the headboard banging against the wall, and Cal could only grab his back and hold on as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Thirteenth used the hand not holding his neck to reach his neglected cock.

And he was seizing up into Thirteenth pitifully as every wave of crashing orgasm wrecked through his entire being. Cal yelled out as his vision whitened out, and was able to breathe after Thirteenth sat up to watch him crumble apart.

Cal comes back to see Thirteenth’s subtle yet triumphant look on his face, his hips still gyrating to give himself pleasure.

“That was good.” He panted to Cal with a smirk. 

Vaguely, Cal could feel the Inquisitor still rock solid inside him, so he grabbed Thirteenth’s shoulders for one last time to gain leverage to flip positions. Cal was delighted that his stunt succeeded as he heard Thirteenth yelp in surprise, clearly having his guard down long enough for Cal to roll him onto his back, looking up at him with awe and his dick still snug inside Cal.

Cal wasn’t done, so he took Thirteenth’s hand, the one that had finished him off and was still covered in his semen, and licked his come off it.

“Fuck,” Thirteenth swore, his mouth hanging open. That was when Cal started to ride him at his earnest, hard and fast, half abandoning cleaning up the hand with his tongue. Thirteenth swore loudly, yelling out his orgasm into the darkness of the room, his fingers digging painfully into Cal’s waist, holding him in place as he violently rutted into the Jedi.

His head collapsed on the pillow afterwards, spent and sated, Cal followed him as he slumped his body on top of him, ignoring the wet spot and sweat between them. Thirteenth made a small pleased noise and they fell into silence, basking in the glow of post-orgasm haze, letting their body cool down and their heart slow to normal.

“That was fucking hot,” he told Cal as he wiggled the body off of his and onto Cal’s side, letting his softened cock slip out as he did.

The trickle of come that followed made Cal grimace, to which Thirteenth smirked a little, letting his fingers wander to Cal’s hole and insert a finger in.

Cal drew in a sharp breath but made no motion to stop him.

“So this is how I shut you up,” Thirteen snarked and Cal groaned in annoyance, plopping himself back onto the mattress and Thirteenth laughed.

“How long did you want to fuck me?” Cal asked, jumping straight into it.

Thirteen didn’t mind. 

“Since I saw you jerking off. Wondered what it was like to fuck yourself, literally.”

“Is that why you kept making jokes?” 

“It got you into bed with me.”

“... fair.”

[This is the most vanilla smut i have ever written]

[yahoodarling]

AlHaitham X GN!Professor reader(amab)

Extreamly suggestive! Like, not actual smut but really lewd.

Part 2

Warnings: Suggestive, teacher student dynamic, curse words, bottom leaning AlHaitham, reader has a penis

"AlHaitham! Pay attention!" 

For once in your entire career your favorite student was not focusing on your lesson. It was blasphemy in itself. You took pride in being one of the academias most successful professors, you always gave way to passing students and those dubbed your favourite always rose to glory but for that they had to pay attention.

You could tell a moment ago AlHaitham was focusing on anything but the lesson. 

"Please, i'm doing this for you, the least you could do is pay attention to the lesson you asked me for."

Yesterday he came up to you and asked for a revision lesson on ancient Scarlet King script. He said he'd be exploring the desert region with a traveller and wanted to make sure he was fluent in its language. The request had shocked you at first, AlHaitham was your most prized student when he was under your guidance a way back. He soaked information like a sponge and he always brought fascinating concepts and research in his assignment papers. You were so prideful to see his genius rise the ranks in the academy so for him to need revision caught you by surprise but right now you were getting irritated. Right now AlHaitham seemed like those pesky rich kids that only got into the academy with their money rather than their intellect, the kids that stare off and do nothing and eventually fail when their bribes dont work on you. You would not allow AlHaitham to soil himself to that level.

"What's on your mind that is so important? Just because you are no longer my official student does not mean you can ignore my class rules. You know them off by heart by now, correct? You used to recite them like they were your holy script when you were in my class."

"My mind was elsewhere. Apologies Professor."

"Then do tell where it was? I'm sure i can understand the almighty AlHaithams thoughts, ones so complex the common bystander couldn't hope to understand even with a lifetime of studies." You closed up to him who sat at a counter in the otherwise empty room.

He chuckled for a second, laughing at a joke in his mind, something only funny to him. "Apologies Professor but i dont think you would understand." His face held a knowing smile, almost mocking.

This was very unlike him to treat you like this. AlHaitham did come across emotionless and reserved to others, often putting himself on a higher level but to you he always treated you with respect so for him to sneer at you irritated you deeply.

You sighed and turned back to your desk, collecting all the papers you had planned to use in the lesson and shut down the projector. "Very well, if you are so knowledgeable you won't be needing my assistance. I do hope you dont waste others time as you have mine."

You made your way towards the door before being stopped by a tug on your cloak, turning back you see AlHaitham grasping the material and staring directing onto your back, his eyes glazed over.

"Professor, why do you wear these long things? Its not required of you to and quite frankly i think it's a waste."

His hand started to gently massage the fabric, shifting the fibres and refusing to look up to you.

"Even covered like this i see how the fabric falls on your frame, even concealed like this i know what's beneath is a temptation any stone willed person would crave." He chuckled gently "i'm living proof of that. Perhaps you are right to cover yourself like this. If not i'd assume no one would pay attention to your lessons. Sadly, even completely clothed you distract me. That is the reason i was not listening. There was another motive to me asking for this revision lesson, it is true i need assistance in a topic im wanting to research but it does not include the desert ruins."

AlHaitham got out his seat and kneeled down, ducking his head to lay on your midriff and looking up to you, grasping on the long fabric of your tunic.

"My hypothesis: My Professor hides an attractive figure under their clothing and houses Teyvats most pleasure inducing cock. You know how i work, i won't stop until my curiosity is satisfied. Please," he begged pushing his large chest into you "teach me. Help me discover my answers. The only one i can rely on is you."

Whore. This was more like it. Yes it was on the suggestive note but to have AlHaitham back into his submissive like state brought a smile to your face.

Working at the Academia at first was hard, often teaching adults lead to you having many attractive students but rules were in place of no student teacher relations regardless of being adults. AlHaitham was one of the students that caught your eye but in the name of being professional you let that desire die down, now that he had graduated and was no longer your student meant that you could engage with him however you liked.

You smirked, watching how AlHaitham gently nudged into you and pulled on your clothes. Who were you to deny such an enthusiastic learner from the education they craved?

You nestled your hand into his ashen hair and pulled him deeper into your thighs, not stopping until you felt his face meet the outline of your cock. AlHaitham shook, orange green eyes flickering as he continued to make eye contact, fighting the desire to dive himself under your clothes and just take what he wanted. 

"Ah, my bad then. Please, let me assist you and your thirst… for knowledge that is."

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

i just wanted to say that i am a huge fan of dick (your oc not the appendage -_-) from what i've seen in his tag he just fascinates me. your mind is magnificent etc etc..

I cannot thank you enough for saying this. He says hi

:-) <-thats him

he's my player character for a ttrpg im doing...his name is dick wayne, erectile dysfunction joke partially intended (he's trans!) & also batman reference intended. he's basically a play on the stereotype of the dumb brute, I made him to play with a lot of ideas about vigilantism and violence in the family that are woven throughout the rpg. He's become a bit murky and complicated as a character because I use him so much as an outlet. The core concept of him is as a powerful guy who treats his body like a tool that he hands over to someone else to use however they see fit. He ran away from his mom as a kid but he never was able to get away from the ideas she taught him...when he was fresh out of (dropping out of) college he fell in with an older man who stoked his anger issues and taught him to fight crime. They took in a kid together! And in the end he wasn't able to stop the man from teaching those same ideas to their kid, passing the violence on.

A LOT has happened in the rpg at this point, he's almost died about 20 times, he's got like one and a half boyfriends and the one boyfriend has another version of himself who's pretty hot, etc. Now he's at a crossroads and he's trying to get better for the wrong reasons. Trying to rid himself of violence so he doesn't "infect" anyone else with it, not because he wants to get better. He's struggling with the growing horror of realizing that he has power over his own life, which means that everything that's happened because of his passivity is on his shoulders. And things are about to get worse! He's gonna die and get resurrected, for the SECOND TIME, and come back as a shambling zombie who's also kinda fey, still very powerful in all the wrong ways.

My concept is that he'll ultimately learn how to give up the one thing that he believes makes him useful and loved--his ability to fight for & protect people--in order to have a shot at real peace and contentment. before he died the second time (a really great phrase) he was a mechanic! it was the only thing he had that was his, that brought him satisfaction even through everything. he's constantly commenting on people's cars in the rpg, which is partially my own way of living out my car guy fantasies. and he has a car that's his best friend (named daisy.) I have this idea that after he gets resurrected, he'll have lost all the knowledge he had about cars, all the muscle memory, everything from this one skill that kept him tethered to the world and grounded in his own body and humanity. And at the end of the story, he'll slowly start to teach himself those skills again. Because it's not about competence, it's about the love of the work, and the love is still there! It's basically the idea of--there's no going back or undoing what's been done to you, or what you've done to yourself. the conventional happy ending (the world is saved, the status quo is restored, hurts are mended) is essentially impossible after horrible trauma. Things have changed, there are still scars, you're still older and you're still in the life all that stuff happened in. But taking the step to take care of yourself despite all that is better than a happy ending--it's meeting your life where it's at, looking at it honestly and making a commitment to it.

forgive me for being sappy i just am very invested in this. Dick is important to me at all times but especially right now cause I'm trying to use him as inspiration to deal with my own struggle to . well. give up the one thing I believe makes me useful and loved in order to have a shot at real peace and contentment.

anyway. dick wayne! he's a bear! he's a slut! he's even aro!

i love you thank you for the ask. hope you're doing great<33

[termagax]

seeing some people's reaction to weird gamer men oversexualizing kiriko is "mauga is right there, half naked, with serveral pin-up sprays" and while i do agree to an extent, i do feel like alot of people are kind of ignoring like. the racial element of mauga's sexualization, like i like mauga, he's hot, but the second i saw him in the short story, i wasn't a big fan of the whole "big savage brown indigenious guy" and it feels like very few people are pointing that out.

RIGHT LIKE. we cannot fix "gamer men fixate on fictional asian girls to a violent degree, usually in a racist way or enabling racist tropes already present in the character" with "gamer girls fixate on fictional brown men to a violent degree in a racist way or enabling racist tropes present in the character" like you guys are part of the same problemmmmmmm youre doing the same thinggg its not better because youre doing it to men like.

i think some people only want to see the kiriko problem as misogyny and while im not going to even pretend that ISNT a massive part of it, theres still like. a reason kiriko and d.va and mei are fascinations for these dudes. there is a pointed difference between the way these three get spoken about compared to their white counterparts (and their dark-skinned counterparts too - look at the responses to illari for a really easy comparison to how kiriko is treated). their ~exoticism~ as asian women is part of the appeal. even if you dont just wanna take the way dudes online treat them (like making a joke that shes "obvious pornbait" for speaking japanese and using JSL) as evidence of that, look at their marketing. kirikos whole thing is atheleisure traditional, shes got her Mystical Japanese Spiritualism Ninja Powers and her magic doggy and they constantly put her in japanese and korean fashion, and dva has been constantly crossing over with korean merch companies. i cant help but notice theres no brazilian IP crossovers or merch launches for lucio, or any attempt to Sell Peru To Gamers for illari. they couldnt even pick a town in Samoa to name maugas map after. these people wouldn't buy that stuff because it's not fetishized in the same way asia is.

but like. a lot of the people trying to Gotcha these racist dudes with an asian fetish just whip out their favourite racist tropes instead and its a really bad look. like you guys dont wanna examine how your examples of The Characters Its Okay To Hypersexualize are all brown? even the people who wanna fuck cassidy dont talk about him like this. or like. fuck if you want a good comparison for mauga lets look at roadhog. big half-naked tank who theyve been playing up a sexual energy/comic relief duology on since day one with racially insensitive cosmetic options. nobody treats it like its completely normal to talk about him that way. the dev team isnt pushing pinups of him out. he isnt flexing his boobs in trailers. hes a white dude*, so he gets the bare minimum dignity of being treated normally. incidentially hot, maybe, but for the most part his character is sold on being cool , funny and scary. mauga is being sold 50% on being a Sexy Rogue Love Interest and 50% on. releasing late. they put in so little effort for him to be anything else despite hyping him up as suuuper significant to the lore and a major gamechanger its almost embarrassing to watch. (this is why that short annoyed me so much for anyone keeping track).

[saintarmand]

Is armand really that obsessed and in love with lestat like the fandom claims i haven't read the books but i get the feeling that he hates him

the fandom DEFINITELY exaggerates it but it's not at all a baseless claim either. but you're right that he does hate him too lol

obligatory disclaimer i've only read books 1-6 in full (stuck on chapter 2 of merrick still) and seen some out of context quotes from later books

without going into specifics their relationship started by armand fucking over lestat who then fucked him over right back (while also mocking him) and armand kinda lost everything and decided that the person(s) responsible should fix it by becoming his everything. because that's what happened LAST time armand lost everything. and they both realize how much they have in common and they're both attracted to each other but lestat gets Bad Vibes so he says thanks but no thanks. but then later he's like hmm maybe armand freaks me out so much because i actually could love him TOO MUCH. scary... and every time armand falls in love he goes intense obsession mode (which lestat also tends to do ofc) and getting rejected by someone who was clearly tempted made it so the whole thing rears its head again every time armand doesn't have someone else. such as louis who is worth a million atrocities they both know this.

to summarize the Vibe they have a mutual love hate thing going on like they've done awful things to each other but also forgive each other but also don't forget but also care deeply about each other but also find each other so fucking annoying. the love is mutual but bc lestat is repulsed by both their similarities and their differences, he doesn't want to actually spend much time around armand. whereas armand wants lestat as his companion because of those similarities and differences. i saw a post once saying they're basically "recognition of the self through the other (derogatory) and (affectionate)" and i think that's a great way to put it. and they're able to forgive each other to an insane level because they recognize that in the same position they would've done the same thing. to me that's kinda the core of their relationship

but yeah there's a lot of baggage so they just end up fighting every time they meet except sometimes lestat is like omg hi armand hiiiiii 😄🥰 and armand is like omg hi 😳🥰🙄

oh and also armand seems to be the only one consistently willing to acknowledge out loud that lestat is a fucking idiot. but also kinda looks up to him in some ways. and lestat thinks armand is pathetic and a child even though armand is older by several hundred years. basically this:

and lestat is kinda marius's "favorite" (or rather just the one he actually respects) even though armand is the only one he actually kinda "raised" (yuck) and lestat is the one who never fucking does as he's told (probably actually all crucial to the respect thing.) so this also contributes to a deep resentment once armand finds out which is valid as hell like who wouldn't go insane like that's his ex-loverfather (die marius die) and lestat is just some guy marius met and decided to like and trust. but im getting off track

basically as always it's much more complicated than the fandom jokes make it out to be and like almost everything in these damn books it's a fascinating relationship that's very underwritten and has the potential to be explored better in the show...

tl;dr it's like this:

[someone1348]

🍰🍓; hii !! im back with a fever 🥲👍 and i have an request in mimd !

how about a disater twins x lee!reader? im not so sure what prompt to use but i wanted it to be platonic <\\3

hope you can write this and don't forget to share a smile because even a little can go a long way 💖

Aww No! I hope you feel better soon Jay! Take it easy! :]

I hope you enjoy this!

The people in this: Ler!Disaster twins, Lee!Reader (Platonic!)

Key: (y/n) = your name

Tw: none this is adorable

And with all that being said here we go!!

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~_____________

The Funniest Turtle

"Clearly, it's me! Right (y/n!) I'm the face man, so naturally, I'm the funniest turtle you know!" The blue clad turtle slung an arm around your shoulder with a smirk before his purple bandanad twin brother spoke up.

"Actually, everyone who has met me has said I am the funniest, so clearly, it's me, am I correct (y/n)?"

The pair went on and on and on bickering about who was actually the funniest! Both were serious about it too! Eventually the two put their focus back on their best friend and asked again

"Who's the funniest (y/n) me or Donnie?"

"Yeah! In your expert opinion who makes you laugh the most?"

They stood there in shock and just shrugged not knowing what to say or do. You found both of them funny in their own ways and there was no way you could decide a winner.

"Here let me make this easier~ first one to make (y/n) laugh is deemed the funniest turtle!" Leo smirked at his twin as Donnie reciprocated that look on his own face

"You're on; good luck, second place~" Donnie said playfully as Leo growled before swinging and arm over your shoulders again with his signature smug look,

"Hey (y/n), Why do cows wear bells?"

"I don't know, Why Leo?"

"Because their horns don't work!"

You really tried your best to not laugh, it really wasn't that funny it's just how Leo presented the joke that made it funny! He kept trying pun after pun until Donnie stepped in

"Leo, you're obviously going about this all wrong. You want to make them laugh then step aside and watch the pro at work"

Leo rolled his eyes before letting Donnie take the floor. Donnie smiled as he spun you around and dipped you before doing some funny little dance, which almost worked too! Both of them were just so funny and everything is ten times worse when you know you can't laugh! Leo smirked before pushing Donnie out of the way and walked behind you again.

"I'll take it from here D!" He smiled "What's a skeletons favorite bone?" You shrugged as he smirked "Their funny bone!" He exclaimed before skittering up and down your rib cage.

"LEheheo!"

Donnie gasped big time as we walked over to the scene "looks like I win~" Leo said with a smirk as Donnie crossed his arms

"Two can play at that game, dearest brother of mine! First to make them laugh the loudest wins~"

"Deal!"

"Wait guys-" there was no use trying to fight it. The pair held you close, Donnies robotic battle shell arms held your hands above your head while they got to work tickling their favorite person alll over their tickle spots

"Tickle Tickle tickleee~ dawww you're too adorable (y/n)"

"LEHeOHo! NOho!"

"Leo yess~" he continued to tease you with a smirk as his six didgets danced from tickle spot to tickle spot.

Donnie smirked joining in on the fun "I never knew someone could be so ticklish~ It's very fascinating, I'll have to tickle you more often if this is how you respond~"

"DOhoNnIEhEhe!"

"That's my name giggles, you need something from the funniest turtle around?~"

Leo narrowed his eyes before picking up the pace "I'm gonna getcha'!~ I can tickle you alll day long~"

"As can I! Tickle Tickle Ticklee"

"GUhuYS! PLeAsEHEHE! WAHAHAHAIT!" your laughter got to the loudest point when they both attacked your worst spot

"Found it!"

"No I did!" They said in unison before giving up and tickling you for the sake of it

"Tickletickletickletickle"

"You have the best laugh, did you know that?"

"PLEAHAHAHASE MEHEHERCYYY!"

"Tie?"

"Tie!"

They stopped and smiled, rubbing away the ghost tickles before pulling you in for a group hug.

"Who's up for some video games!"

"Yeheah!"

"Sounds good to me"

At the end of the day, it didn't matter who was the funniest because they both know that regardless of who's telling the jokes, or pulling off the dances, they can both make you smile and that's what they were really after. You're bright smile and incredible laughter!

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

I hope you all enjoyedd! Again I apologize for the delay! The rest of the requests should be out very soon I promise!

-K :]

[scarrletmoon]

Twilight but college outtakes PLEASE

from the WIP list

so i thought this was the twilight au but it's actually the time i decided to rewrite twilight but set in college and dont ask me why, i got so far into it and then was like "stephenie meyer will probably write this herself 10 years from now anyway so this is just a huge waste of time"

so i'll just talk about the twilight college au i started writing for ed and stede instead which is way more interesting anyway

stede is an english major, sophmore year transfer, and finds out about edward through an on-campus exhibit from the art and fashion students and is FASCINATED by ed's designs. so he asks his roommate buttons if he knows who this ed teach guy is and buttons is like. ah.........the vampire

so stede thinks he should ask someone else for answers instead

meanwhile, ed happens to read the latest issue of the campus literary journal and LOVES stede's work in it

stede loves going to museums by himself and his student ID gets him free admission to the local one, and he ends up at an exhibit of clothing through history at the same time as ed (there's a joke in here somewhere about some of those clothes being ed's which he alludes to)

(very annoying when your fave dress gets robbed out from under you by fucking historians)

here have some dialogue i threw in the outline:

and then they talk all night until the sun comes up and ed suddenly has to leave

stede can tell that ed's hiding something but he's not about to ask questions and scare off the only person he's ever met who finds him interesting. and you know, ed starts designing stuff outside of assignments that he wants to see stede in, maybe, if he wants. and that's where they're at when stede invites ed to this halloween party, bc he's afraid to go alone but it'd be nice if he knew one other person there, and he knows ed isn't really into the whole party scene so like, no pressure if he's not interested, and it's a costume party so--

ed says no and stede tries (and fails) to pretend that he's not heartbroken about it

stede goes to the party bc fuck it, he cant go through college with just ONE friend and his roommate -- and surprise surprise, who walks through the door but one ed teach, dressed as a slutty vampire. ed's changed his mind apparently! and they almost kiss! but ed runs away at the last minute

so then it's like. WEIRD. bc they're obviously into each other but ed has this Secret. and stede's oblivious but he's not COMPLETELY stupid so he figures it out but just.....doesn't say anything. and then ed is finally like. stede i have to tell you something, dont freak out. in his head, stede is like "oh god he's going to say he has a boyfriend he's going to say he has a GIRLFRIEND--" and ed's all "im not human" and stede lets out this massive sigh of relief to which ed says ?????

so like, okay, ed's a vampire but he's like, single. right? so. nbd. ed keeps waiting for stede to freak out but, honestly? it's stede. this is fucking weird but it's HIM. so now that weirdness is out of the way, they have this INTENSE UST. like. everyone around them can't even look at them, they want to fuck each other so bad. ed's best friend izzy's about to have a rage stroke despite also being a vampire. and eventually stede's like. so. are we like. just not going to have sex. that's fine!! i'd just like to know

ed's all ??? stede i could LITERALLY kill you, i thought that would be enough of a deterrent. but stede TRUSTS him. and ed wants him BAD. so they try

stede comes out of it covered in bruises of course, and ed is HORRIFIED. but stede tells him that he's a grown fucking man and can make his own choices and ed's not going to decide for him what he wants. so then there's maybe another week where they're sort of mad at each other but stede's trying to give ed space and ed's trying not to hurt stede but like, they're the last people on earth who could ever keep their hands off each other long term, so they have sex again. and it's hot and it's desperate and it's filthy but this time stede doesn't have bruises

oh also i know this is a twilight au but ed has fangs bc he HAS to. let's just say he has a glamour that hides them from regular people

meanwhile izzy is Big Mad and now ed's broken the Cardinal Rule of Being a Vampire (dont tell humans, and if you do, dont KEEP THEM AROUND) so he goes to the volturi about it, and ed's forced to decide between killing stede or turning him. they have a month.

and like, stede's down immediately, obviously. just turn me into a vampire, easy. this rocks. but ed, who's been a vampire for so long that he's tried multiple ways to kill himself at this point is convinced that it's a sentence worse than death. except he doesn't say it this way so stede thinks that the man he loves would rather the volturi kill him than spend forever together

but then these two idiots clear that up and ed's all "i dont want to doom you to an eternity of boredom" and stede says some gross romantic shit like "how much of a torment can immortality be if i spend it by your side?"

and then stede bcomes a vampire and he finally gets to fuck ed and they live happily ever after, the end

[c-53]

what are marathon and atomic robo like?

im asking because i am also a robot fan and i am now considering playing/reading either one of the two thingies because. robot. robot cool.

IM SO FUCKING BAD ABOUT ANSWERING ASKS SORRYYYYYY

Ok so Marathon is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, its a claustrophobic boomer shooter with convoluted mazes and an honestly punishing (by modern standards) health management system. The story is relayed to you through terminals physically located on the map where you go to get new objectives, and finish your missions. If you don’t enjoy boomer shooters, then reading it online is completely viable.

As for tone? Depends on the game. M1 is almost a tragedy, M2 is like an action movie, and M3 is. Compared to house of leaves a bit too often. For the most part, they’re funny in a grim sort of way, with fascinating characters and a fun gay undertone.

Atomic Robo is a more pure action comedy. Do you like well written witty banter? Do you wanna see a shirtless robot dilf punch things really hard? Perfect. Its the comic for you.

Atomic Robo does a fantastic job of juggling jokes and emotional beats and action sequences together, and has a really really clever angle on the scientist action hero trope. its honestly hard for me to think of anything to note that might dissuade someone if its not for them. Its just really good! Also really easy to get into! You can start at basically any point and it’ll mostly make sense.

[pariskim]

hi my beloved mutual.

use me as a vessel to do any unhinged rant/rambling about iasip youve been needing an excuse to get out

ill be eagerly awaiting your response

^ charlie boob pat for you

thisis the nicest thing anyones ever done. thank you...<3 charlie boob pat is awesome here too.

thinking so much about charden its crazy like not even specifically from a shipping standpoint just their relationship is so different from the others in the gang it makes me need to rip my teeth into every scene they have together. like even later when the sort of facade of normalcy falls away there's this sense of understanding between the two of them about life. in s1 its almost a sort of caretaker role dennis has put himself into for charlie, trying to help her sort through some of the shit he knows they went through in childhood, projecting it onto her with this idea of himself as a psychology minor who knows everything, but not evaluating his own problems as well. and the sort of treating charlie like a kid falls away as the seasons go on, but theres something gentler to their relationship still, like dennis doesn't really make fun of charlie in the way he would say mac. theres still mean jabs and bullying because thats how their group operates but dennis never turns to charlie and says he hates her!!! he doesnt do it!!! charlie is the first one in the group to just not care about the social standards the gang and life has pushed onto dennis and i can assume thats sort of a freeing relationship for him? like when he burns his face and mac and dee immediately jump to make fun of it, so he asks charlie dont you want to know what happened, and she just shrugs not really. there isn't the pressure to perform when its just the two of them and the results are so fascinating. i cant even get into ptsdee as an episode because some of the line cuts make me so mad but they care about each other genuinely!!!! they fight and they have tensions but dennis smiles when charlie does a stupid dance and charlie thinks dennis is cool beyond his persona. idk i think they deserve to cry and have a long talk about life sometime even though i know they never will. holds this cut scene in my hands gently like a baby bird. THEY ARE FRIENDS!!!! and im tired of pretending they arent. dennis absolutely makes fun of charlie but in s17 i want a scene where they care about each other and its not a joke