#totally didn't misread the question

[cotl-flower-crown]

question for next gen au lamb: what's your most favourite and least favourite thing about a parent?

[torgawl]

a bit obsessed with the idea of kusakabe dying as a form of sacrifice to specifically protect/save somebody else. it's consistent enough with the theme of the past generation achieving no meaningful feats against significant threats but it's also ironic enough that someone without a technique and who claims their philosophy is primarily self-sacrificial - although he tends to stay from his own ideals in critical moments, proving he's not only brave when necessary but he does have a sense of responsabilty and guilt - ultimately redeems themselves through death resulting in the achievement of something his colleagues have failed to do. not that i'm wishing for him to die, i hope he doesn't. but it would also make a clear-cut distinction between him and a character like mei mei, who narratively serves a very similar purpose (besides her being a foil to nanami). to have someone be awarded by their selfishness just for it to not be worth much within a world and system that runs and sustains itself due to the sorcerer's labour power, whose only means of subsistence is to sell themselves away. a class of people who is doomed no matter what path they choose to take, as long as they do not break free from their duties and as long as the system doesn't collapse. a death that could serve as a symbol of punishment towards solidarity and altruism but a win for revolution.

[her-mortal-projections]

kiss me in the quiet night

king!steve x fem!reader (18+)

Steve doesn't want to be alone, so will you decide to spend the night?

The house is empty. Beer cans and red solo cups litter the counter. You walk through the back door towards the pool. That's where he's sitting, with his feet in the water. He takes a long drag off his cigarette while staring off into the darkness beyond the yard lights. After slipping off your shoes, you sit next to him. You move your feet through the cool water, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

"I'm glad you're still here," he finally says, after putting out his cigarette on the concrete.

"Well, you asked me to stay, so..."

"I know, but I'm used to people flaking on me," he continues, glancing at you.

You wonder how that could be possible with the way he runs his hand through his hair. Not to mention the way he looks at you.

"I don't even know why I keep doing this," he begins, gesturing to his house, "since I always hate the end of the night, when everything's quiet again."

The sadness in his voice makes you want to reach over and place your hand over his, but you decide against it.

"Its like suffocating, y'know?"

You nod.

"I don't think I can take one more night alone..." he adds, turning to you and placing his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to him. His quick movement makes you gasp as he ghosts his lips over yours.

"Is that why you wanted me to stay?" You softly ask. "Just to have someone to spend the night with?"

"No," he breathes, "its more than that..."

He then presses his lips to yours. You don't kiss him back, at first, leaving him to pull away, confused.

"What's wrong? Did I misread some signals or something?"

You shake your head. "I don't want to be just another warm body in your bed, only existing for tonight, just to make you feel better about yourself."

"Wow, you're weaponizing my reputation against me, that's cool," he huffs, rolling his eyes.

"Can you blame me, really?" You question, pulling away.

He sighs. "I'm not as awful as you think I am."

His eyes meet yours and you see how dejected he feels.

"I wanted you to stay because I like you, and I thought you liked me too."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "I had a crush on you all summer. It was totally obvious, I thought you knew."

"I... I didn't," you reply, flustered. "I just thought..."

"I know," he agrees, pulling you back to him. "Doesn't matter because you're here now."

"I feel so stupid, though," you quietly admit as his hand cups your cheek.

"You shouldn't, it's okay," he consoles, before leaning in to kiss you again.

You allow yourself to melt into it this time. You also don't mind the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that clings to his shirt or the stale beer taste on his tongue when he deepens the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, with your fingers curling at the ends of his perfect hair. He finally breaks the kiss, panting, before signaling for you to stand up.

He ushers you into his house, guiding you to the couch then pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him with ease, smiling at how he's looking up at you. His kisses are messier now as his hands are all over you.

"Would spending the night with me really be so bad?" He asks, breathlessly.

"Steve..."

"I'm serious," he continues, "It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Oh, will it?" You teasingly ask as he nods.

"Let me show you," he answers, gently lifting you off his lap.

You sit next to him before he quickly drops to his knees, in front of you. He places his large hands on your knees, spreading your legs. The heat emanating from his touch has you gasping his name. He pushes your skirt up, cursing under his breath when he sees the lace of your panties. He glances up at you, smirking before leaning forward, nuzzling his nose to your clothed core.

Your hands immediately reach for his hair, before you can stop yourself.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, breathing a soft, "Its okay," before flicking his tongue over you. The sheer fabric does little to conceal your arousal as he moans into you.

"You smell so good, angel," he breathes, his eyes meeting yours, "need to taste you..."

You immediately nod, whining a small, "Please."

He eagerly pulls your panties down and tosses them to the floor. He leans in again, just admiring how pretty and wet you are. You breathily moan his name when you feel his warm tongue against you. He languidly laps at you, with his grip on your thighs tightening as he tries to pull you closer to his mouth.

Your hands are fully in his hair now, your nails dully scratching his scalp as your fingers curl and pull. He moans into you, his hold on your legs so tight you think it'll probably bruise. He almost feels too good, as overwhelming pleasure builds up within you. He senses how you're feeling and pulls away just enough so he can look up at you.

"Fuck, angel, you're too sweet..." he breathes, leaning his cheek against your thigh. "If you stay, I'll do this all night, if you want."

You gaze back at him, chest heaving and face damp with sweat.

"You win, I'll stay," you reply earning a pleased smile from him.

He buries his face between your thighs until you're crying his name and soaking his face. He swipes his tongue over his lips before glancing up at you to say, "I told you it'd be worth it."

You sigh, playfully pushing him away, now fully aware of how he earned his royal title.

[akanemnon]

Have you played deltarune yellow if so how do you feel about the game (not a question but I love your work and the small details are all so cool)

EDIT: I totally misread this and thought they were asking about Undertale Yellow LMAO. I'm still gonna keep my answer below, though, because it's important info on why I don't like talking about Undertale Yellow.

I haven't played Deltarune Yellow, no. I'm not into fangames for the most part because I kinda lost my motivation for games in general.

------

Normally, I have a running gag going on where I pretend I don't know what Undertale Yellow is (why is the Undertale yellow?)

But it looks like you're new here, and I don't wanna scare you off.

Yes, I have played the game, but I didn't have the energy to finish it back then due to covid. So I kinda dropped it during the Axis fight.

I saw how it ends, though, and it absolutely wrecked me. A family member who was very close to me passed away shortly before I played the game/watched streams. So you can imagine that I was crying my eyes out. Even now, I associate Undertale Yellow with that event.

[avelera]

maybe I'm remembering wrong but I feel like some time ago I saw a post from you theorizing that Mel was Jayce's first for like, everything. I was wondering if you would be willing to expand on why you think that ;0

Yeah it's this post where I talk about how Jayce has the vibe of, "Intimidatingly hot girl that is so hot no one has ever asked her out before so she thinks she's unlovable."

I think Mel thought Jayce was a fuckboi. I mean, look at him! He totally looks like a muscle jock with a 1000 watt smile, who seems to soak up the adoration of the crowd, who seems based on his looks like he must have a vibrant sex life of sleeping with whoever he wants. To my eyes, Mel 100% thought that by sleeping with Jayce she would just be one of many and she could use the influence from that encounter to continue to manipulate him, but it would be a totally casual, sexual encounter.

Her belief he's a fuckboi seems to be confirmed when he's not there in the morning after they sleep together. You can see what's going through her head. She's thinking, "Welp, sleep with a fuckboi and you get a fuckboi. I don't know why I thought a party guy like that would stick around after, but I'm still disappointed." She is pissed and seems personally hurt/offended when he comes "crawling" back to apologize, and then he reveals it's because the single most important person in his life is dying.

Everything changes after that. Mel realizes she misunderstood Jayce. She realizes when he puts his head in her lap and kisses her wrist and is casually physically affectionate with her that she super-duper misread the situation. Jayce isn't a fuckboi. They slept together once and he thinks they're dating now! Mel actually looks like she's panicking there at how seriously he's taking this "relationship" AND she's realizing that she's taking him away from the actual love of his life, Viktor, so she fucked up big time. She literally reads the situation and immediately clocks, in my opinion, that Jayce is with the wrong person right now and possibly hasn't been aware of his love for Viktor and vice versa and as the one emotionally intelligent person in that trio says, "You lunatic, go back to your man right now, wtf are you doing here with me??" in so many words. She feels guilty and she realizes she fucked up and this actually very sweet guy is attached to her now. That's when she really begins to have feelings for him too but very much despite herself IMO.

As for Jayce being a virgin, or very near to it, I mean... Jayce doesn't notice people are attracted to him. He just doesn't. He's got random people sighing over him during Progress Day and he doesn't notice. He visibly swallows with nerves when Mel mildly flirts with him. He's not a fuckboi at all, if anything he's oblivious.

Basically, I think it fits that if Mel's not his actual first, she could very well be near his first. Jayce has been busy lately! Hextech is his dream, he's working at all hours, he's a hyperfixating nerd who spends all hours with his lab partner and if he's been hopelessly pining after Viktor then that's even more evidence he might have been "saving himself" for a marriage that didn't seem to be happening. Even when Mel kisses him, IMO Jayce's pause as he calculates whether or not he should reciprocate feels like he's thinking, "Do I have a shot with Viktor? No, sadly. Viktor's made it clear he's not interested so I might as well stop denying myself other relationships, especially with someone who expresses real interest and acts on it in a way my nerd-boy brain can understand." (Jayce is direct, he thinks in straight lines, and Mel flirts in the one way he understands IMO, but that's a meta for another day.)

So err, at the risk of rambling for 10 more pages, I think that addresses your question?

[httpvomitello]

Fake Dating for a Mission (Peter Parker, Y/N)Peter panics when the mission requires him to pretend to be engaged — and of course, Y/N gets volunteered to be his fake fiancé

I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

(I decided to do it with Andrew, since you didn't specify which Peter it would be, but you can imagine with any of them!)

Act Natural .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: When a mission goes sideways, Peter Parker ends up needing a fake fiancée to maintain cover — and somehow, you’re the one getting dragged into the act. You agree to help him out, just for the mission. Totally professional. Totally fake. Totally not a problem… until it is.

peter parker x f!reader

You knew something was wrong the second Peter walked into the safe house.

He was holding a small box in one hand.

A ring box.

You raised an eyebrow from where you sat, lacing up your boots.

“Either you’ve really misread our dynamic, Parker, or we’ve got a situation.”

Peter looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“There’s been… a change of plans.”

You stood. Crossed your arms.

“Talk.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck — that nervous tic you’d seen a hundred times. “The contact we’re meeting thinks I’m engaged. It’s a security thing — he doesn’t trust anyone unless they’re, y’know, ‘settled down.’”

You blinked.

“And?”

“And they asked for photos. Of me. With my fiancée. At our apartment. That we supposedly share.”

You stared at him.

“You have a fake fiancée and a fake apartment?”

He winced.

“I panicked.”

You laughed — a short, incredulous sound. “Peter, what the hell?”

“They were going to cut off communications! I didn’t have a choice!”

You stared at him for another long beat. “Okay. Fine. So who’s the lucky girl?”

And that’s when he turned red. Slowly. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” you said flatly. “No, Peter. Don’t even—”

“They already think it’s you,” he blurted. “I showed them that picture from the gala, the one where you were fixing my tie—they assumed, okay? I didn’t correct them. It just happened.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

“Please,” he added, eyes soft. “Just until we get the intel. A few days tops. Then we vanish and let the ‘engagement’ quietly die.”

You hated how earnestly he looked at you. Like saving the world might actually depend on you pretending to be in love with him.

You also hated the part of you that didn’t hate it.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m not doing any of that mushy PDA stuff.”

The fake apartment was uncomfortably convincing.

Framed photos of the two of you lined the walls. Mugs with both your initials sat by the sink. There was even a half-solved puzzle on the coffee table with a sticky note that read: Don’t touch, Pete!

You stared at it, unblinking. “You really went all in, huh?”

Peter had the decency to look sheepish. “They asked a lot of questions.”

You wandered into the bedroom — one bed. Of course.

He followed a beat later, rubbing his neck again.

“I can take the couch,” he offered.

You raised a brow. “You sure? Might break your back. You are getting old.”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Ancient.”

He grinned, and damn it, you hated that it made your heart skip.

You lasted three hours before the first awkward moment.

You were both on the couch, watching the monitors, when the door buzzed. Peter answered it—and there stood the contact, smile wide, eyes suspiciously calculating.

“Just in the neighborhood,” the man said. “Thought I’d drop off the next intel packet. And meet the lucky girl.”

You stepped into frame with what you hoped was a casual smile.

“Hi,” you said. “Nice to meet you.”

The man raised a brow. “No ring?”

You froze. Peter’s eyes went wide.

“Oh,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. “Yeah, I’ve got it right—here.”

He pulled out the ring box like it was a live grenade.

And then, right there in the living room, in front of a guy with five known aliases and a history of stabbing people with pens, Peter dropped to one knee.

Your jaw dropped.

“Pete—”

“It’s for the cover,” he hissed under his breath, barely moving his lips. “Just go with it.”

You stared at him.

He opened the box.

You blinked down at the simple, elegant band. He looked up at you, eyes wide and nervous and something else you couldn’t name.

You swallowed.

“Guess I have to say yes, huh?”

The contact laughed, clapping his hands. “Of course she does! Look at that face!”

You extended your hand, and Peter slipped the ring on.

His fingers brushed yours and lingered—just a second too long.

Neither of you said anything after the man left.

You sat back down. Quiet.

Peter finally broke the silence.

“That was… weird.”

You nodded.

“Yup.”

He looked down at your hand. At the ring.

“You okay?”

You shrugged.

“Just didn’t think my first proposal would be a tactical one.”

Peter gave a breathy laugh.

You didn’t say it out loud, but it didn’t feel as fake as it should’ve.

You were asleep on the couch when Peter covered you with a blanket.

You didn’t see it — the way he paused, just looking at you for a second too long.

Didn’t hear the way he whispered, so softly no one could catch it:

“Not that fake, though. Not for me.”

You and Peter didn’t talk about the fake proposal. Or the ring that still sat on your finger, snug and warm and far too heavy for something pretend.

It was easier to pretend it hadn’t shifted something.

Easier to stick to the mission.

But “easier” didn’t mean simple — especially not with the way Peter started acting like he’d really put that ring there for a reason.

Two weeks later brought a new wrinkle: dinner with the contact and his wife.

Couples dinner.

Great.

Peter stood behind you as you got ready, his reflection hovering just behind yours in the mirror.

“You look…” His voice trailed off.

You glanced at him through the mirror.

“What?”

He blinked. “Nice.”

You turned around, arms crossed. “That’s it? Just nice?”

Peter flushed. “I meant—no, I mean, you look really nice. Like, distractingly nice. Like I might walk into a wall.”

You smirked. “Better.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “We should go.”

Dinner was weirdly domestic.

Peter pulled out your chair. Topped off your glass. Rested his hand on your knee under the table like he’d done it a hundred times.

And you let him.

Mostly because you had to sell it. Not because his hand was warm and comforting. Or because the skin-to-skin contact made your brain short-circuit.

Totally not that.

When the other couple excused themselves to the kitchen, Peter leaned over and murmured near your ear.

“You’re doing great.”

You turned slightly, lips dangerously close to his.

“So are you.”

There was a flicker in his eyes — a pause, a maybe.

Then the moment passed.

But you felt it. Like a wire pulled tight between you, humming with tension.

Back at the apartment, the air felt heavier.

Peter leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed, watching you set the ring on the nightstand.

“I, uh… I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

You looked up. “For what?”

He shrugged. “For pulling you into this. It wasn’t fair.”

You softened. “It’s okay, Peter. I volunteered.”

“Still,” he murmured. “You deserve better than playing house with a guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt without it being an op.”

You stepped closer. “Was that flirting?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Earlier. With the hand-on-knee, wine-refill, whispering-in-my-ear stuff.”

A pause.

“…Maybe.”

You tilted your head. “You’re kind of a dork, Parker.”

He smiled — crooked, boyish, and entirely too endearing.

“I get that a lot.”

The silence that followed was full. Expectant.

You should’ve turned in. Should’ve walked away.

Instead, you moved first.

You reached up, fingers brushing the collar of his shirt.

“I think we’re too good at pretending,” you murmured.

Peter’s eyes dropped to your lips. “I’m starting to wish we weren’t pretending at all.”

And just like that — he kissed you.

Slow and cautious at first, like he expected you to pull away. But when you didn’t — when you kissed him back — his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The kiss deepened, messy and uncoordinated and a little desperate — like two people who’d been holding back for too long.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you stared at each other like you’d just crossed a line.

Because you had.

“…That wasn’t for the mission,” you whispered.

Peter shook his head slowly. “No. No, it wasn’t.”

You didn’t say anything else. Just leaned your forehead against his cheast, eyes closed, trying to breathe past the chaos in your chest.

[pressplay-if]

Hi there,

I wanted to gently offer an outside perspective on the Fleetwood Mac conversation. I read the original ask and follow-up, and I think the anon was trying to express curiosity and personal boundaries, not judgment. It didn’t read as accusatory — just thoughtful, maybe a little unsure in tone, but definitely not cruel.

The reply you gave, especially suggesting they called you a weirdo (which they didn’t), came off as more defensive than the situation called for. This kind of misreading can make someone feel unfairly attacked and misunderstood. It’s totally fair to protect your space, but when someone opens with curiosity and multiple apologies, I think it’s worth responding with the same softness.

Sometimes in fandom spaces, we expect malice before it’s actually there, especially when people talk about “unpopular” opinions — but not everyone who disagrees is attacking. This seemed like one of those times. I can understand where the nonnie was coming from when they felt that one anon's response was passive aggressive. Saying “that’s an odd take” and immediately moralizing about idolization felt a little dismissive. Just some food for thought — tone matters, especially in written replies. Saying, that they just thought it was a weird and weren't being rude could come across as implying they were overreacting and that it wasn't a big deal.

No pressure to respond, but I felt like this deserved a bit of clarity and kindness. Hope you have a good day.

— Noa 🐚

Hey nonnie, I appreciate your input, and maybe I was indeed more defensive than called for, but I still think their original asks came off as judgmental of my person. I don't appreciate that, no matter if it was directly or indirectly (the weirdo-thing was clear enough to me).

It wasn't cruel, that's true enough. I don't even answer cruel or mean asks, I just delete them. In the other anon's very first post, I listed a bunch of reasons for my love of FM, and they seemed to take issue that I didn't agree with them and that the other anon, who questioned their take, was in the wrong for doing so.

I have to say, my stance remains unchanged. I don't want to interact with the anon in question further.

In general, I might turn off anon for a while. It's doing me no good, I feel.

[tossawary]

At some point in the "Hades" video game, I came across a piece of text that suggested Zagreus didn't know what an olive was??? It's possible that I totally misread the text, though I think he does comment on "plants he's never seen before" when visiting that specific place at the end of the game. Anyway, that implication was one of two times where I had a real "...oh my god???" moment of horror, thinking about the fact that Zagreus has never left the Underworld.

And if Zagreus has never even seen an olive before (let's imagine this is true for a moment) and doesn't know what one is, then that makes a great potential comedic interaction between him and other characters. It's especially funny to imagine little revelations like this being a turning point for his friends and family.

Young Zagreus: "Achilles, sir, I have another question about the living world, if you could spare me a moment?"

Achilles: (internally) "Ah, the young prince's lack of experience in some matters is sad, but I hope he realizes how fortunate he is, not only to live the privileged immortal life of a god even here in the Underworld, but to at least be surrounded by so many friends and family who love him dearly."

Achilles: (out loud) "Of course, lad, I'm happy to help. What is your question?"

Young Zagreus: "I overheard some shades talking about food in the world above again, all these dishes and plants that don't grow down here, and... Sir, what's an 'olive'?"

Achilles: "..."

Young Zagreus: "The shades talk about olive oil like it's ambrosia. Olives can't really be THAT good, right? Do they taste anything like pomegranates?"

Achilles: (internally) "I have to get this boy out of here."

[mcytblrconfessions]

I have consistently misread connoreatspants as connoreatspeople, and I only recently realized that that was not, in fact, his name.

What's even worse is that for the longest time, I didn't question it. I just accepted that this. dude. Was named Connor Eats People, like 'yeah that is a totally normal name that a mcyt has and i am not going to look further into'

[crysabie]

Little Bakugou Katsuki in... Bathroom Blues

Hello, Cry Sabies! I've written a little snippet about age-regressor Bakugou in my Classification AU below the cut! I hope you enjoy!

- Sabie 🩷🤎🩶

💥💥💥

In my AU, I like to think Bakugou regresses to about 2 years old. As such, he doesn't have total control over his bladder yet. Todoroki, who's a baby regressor, doesn't have great control either, so at some point, Aizawa (their CG) decided it would be easier to set a concrete bathroom schedule rather than wrangle Bakugou into diapers every day or deal with his accidents. Bakugou hates it - he always insists he doesn't need to be helped to the potty, and he can control himself just fine, especially in his non-regressed headspace. Still, after a mortifying accident in heroics where he regressed and Kirishima had to take him to UA's nursery, he's begrudgingly accepted that when Aizawa shows up at the door to 1-A with a pair of keys to the family bathrooms, it's potty time. Still, accepting that Aizawa has set a schedule doesn't mean that potty time pick-up always goes smoothly. 

One day, after Ectoplasms's class, Deku and Bakugou are in an argument. Bakugou swears Ectoplasm graded him wrongly on the last test, but Deku swears that Bakugou just misunderstood the question. Bakugou always rankles at being told he's wrong, especially by Deku, so when Aizawa appears at the door to the class, jangling a pair of keys, Bakugou freezes. Somehow, it feels like if he leaves now, holding Aizawa's hand to go to the potty, he'll be admitting defeat. Like leaving implies Deku is right because he's bigger than Bakugou is, or that Bakugou is too Little to read the test questions correctly. 

“Bakugou?” Todoroki asks. He's already out of his seat and standing by Aizawa. Bakugou seethes at the fact that Todoroki is never upset by being pulled out of class for potty time. Bakugou isn't a baby like Todoroki, he doesn't need to go potty, and he didn't misread the test. 

“Oh, is it potty time Kacchan?” Deku asks. “We can talk about this later, then.” He starts pulling his test from the desk where they are comparing their work; Bakugou slams his hand down on it. 

“No,” he grits out. “I'm fine. Explain again why you think I'm wrong.” 

Deku frowns at him. “Kacchan, Aizawa-san is waiting for you.”

“He can go without me,” he says. 

Aizawa sighs. “Bakugou, you know I'm not leaving without you.” 

“I went already!” Bakugou snaps. 

“When?”

“An hour ago,” Bakugou says, lying thoughtlessly. Honestly, he doesn't know when the last time he went was. His body just…doesn't send the signal that he needs to pee until just before he has to go or when he's already wet. It leads to a lot of dashes to the bathroom at random times, and the embarrassment is so strong he tries to block it out. He does know that he went today, though, and he doesn't want to go potty now.

 “Uh, you were with me an hour ago, Bakubro,” Kirishima says gently. 

Bakugou's ears flush red. Stupid Kirishima- he should have kept his mouth shut. Now Bakugou looks like a baby who can't tell time either, which doesn't help in his argument against Deku. 

“It must have been earlier then,” he huffs. 

“If it was earlier, you should still go potty, Kacchan,” Deku says. 

“I don wanna!” He whines, and then, “don't want to,” he corrects hurriedly; Aizawa narrows his eyes anyway. 

“Maybe we'll take a trip to the nursery after our potty break, Katsuki.”

“No!” He says. He doesn't realize he's stomped his foot until he sees the poorly concealed fondness in Deku's eyes. Deku thinks he's ‘just the cutest’ when he's regressed, always giving him that soppy-eyed stare. He needs to cut it out - Bakugou is not regressing and he does not need to pee. 

“‘M not Katsuki, ‘m Bakugou” he grumbles. “Not Little right now.”

“It's okay to be Little, Kacchan,” Deku says. He scoots his paper out from under Bakugou's hand and starts walking towards the door. “Come on - I'll come with you and Aizawa-san if it will make you feel better.” 

It's a cheap trick - Deku knows that Bakugou finds it deeply unfair that Deku, who's also Little, is big enough when regressed to not need bathroom breaks or naps in the nursery. When Deku comes with them, however, Aizawa still makes him sing the potty song even when Deku blushes and doesn't want to (“So everything is fair”, Aizawa says), and Bakugou is always happy to see it. Still, though…

“…the test,” Bakugou mumbles petulantly.

“We can talk about it later, Kacchan. Come on.” 

Bakugou slides out of his seat and trudges after Aizawa. He'll just go potty and come back to class. Or - his jaw crack as a yawn splits his face - maybe he'll take a quick nap, too. 

[inky-duchess]

For clarity on "how much say would a prince or princess get in their arranged marriage". How involved in the process would the prince or princess be? Would they be able to ask for any specific concessions (as an example, "preferably within the same generation as me" or "no one from a country that murdered my brother unless absolutely necessary")? Could they call off the marriage if they turned up evidence of unsavory behavior by their intended or if they found a better option (whatever "better" entails)? If a marriage arranged for them falls through for whatever reason, would they be permitted to arrange their own marriage or at least have more involvement in the process than they had the first time? In a case where a dowry is expected, would they be able to set the requirements of said dowry or at least have input on said requirements? Are there any factors that might impact any of the aforementioned questions, such as "would a prince have more input/involvement with X than a princess" or "is there any impact by birth order on how involved a prince/princess would be in the process of arranging a marriage"?

Hi, sorry, totally misread your first ask.

The answer is, that mostly they don't have a say in it because their own personal feelings and preferences have little to do with it. This is a political arrangement made for the preservation of their family, power, wealth and status. They can certainly try to take some role in the organisation of their arranged marriages but if it is a case of urgency or need, their words may fall on deaf ears. However if this was a love match, they would have more input as long as it didn't effect the kingdoms. The dowry is their parent's business, not theirs. In more modern times, royalty could have a say in who they married but even that was beset by certain criteria and had to be approved by parents and the Crown

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Time to do another dramatic reading of our least favourite avatar.

Today, I will be subjecting myself and all of you to the vignette titled "space".

Unfortunately, it's not about the cool space. Which is a shame, because that would have less incest in it.

I wish I was joking.

So we once again start off with a republic city tabloid making the Avatar upset.

That is twice that this framing device has been used, and while this vignette came first, I think Lily needs to come up with a better opener. We can only have Niva read so many tabloids, and getting upset by it, as a framing device so many times before I start to question why Niva keeps reading them.

And because the author has a barely disguised fetish, we get to jump right into the incest using the tabloids as an excuse:

WHO TALKS LIKE THAT TO THEIR SISTER????

If people are reading your behaviour as romantic, to the point that it's getting printed into tabloids, it really makes me question just what you were doing to give off that impression. (We get a good idea of this pretty fast in this vignette.)

If I didn't know they were sisters, I would think they are dating.

Because this is a couple spat.

As for the claim that people can't comprehend sincere devotion without sex, well, if the Avatar and her sister are always touching each other in public in the ways that lovers do, then it isn't the public who is misreading the situation.

Again, this isn't how SIBLING'S talk.

This is how romantic partners speak to each other.

If I can pull this lines out, and show them to a total normie, and they would think this is a couple, then you have written a romance, not a sisterly bond.

And I'm sorry, but if someone is always having their arms wrapped around each other in rather intimate ways, and talking about how devoted they are to said person, then people are going to make assumptions. It's not them misunderstanding what they're seeing or reading too much into it. It's them seeing how too people are acting, and making a conclusion.

Alright, moving on.

Here's a red flag for any relationship:

Our supposedly confident, self actualized Avatar needs an excuse to assert her boundaries.

So either the Avatar isn't actually a confident, self actualized badass like Lily claims, or, her sister has reacted negatively to demands for space in the past, making the avatar nervous about asking for said space without an excuse.

Either way, this is yikes behaviour, and something any other author would explore, but we all know Lily won't explore it.

We then get a little bit about how Niva hate's Republic City because it makes her feel overwhelmed and overstimulated, which if Niva is meant to be on the spectrum, is a nice bit of character building.

We then get them bashing the food in Republic City because it's "corporate" and then Lavi tells her to "just be honest about her need for space", they hug, and we end on this groaner:

Probably the most normal part of this relationship, and guess what?

It sucks.

I think it's the last two lines. They just scream "I need a witty closer".

And that was Space.

I think I need Space from it. 🤣😭

This was another episode in our growing series called "the author's barely disguised fetish". And while I'm certain Lily gets a lot of enjoyment out of subjecting people to it without their knowledge or consent, I do not.

And I went into this knowing exactly what it was going to contain.

To summarize my thoughts on this literal nothingburger of a story...

I don't have any.

Despite being gross because of the incest, it really doesn't actually tell you much about the characters outside Niva feeling like she can't even ask for space from her sister, which would be fine... if Niva wasn't supposed to be a self-confident badass. So now it just reads as problematic, but we all know this will never be addressed.

Honestly, the incest is the only thing that either of those characters have going for them, and that's both parts gross, tragic and hilarious.

Now get out of my house.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my father a cheater?

This is not a serious serious topic like others I've seen here but I need to know if I was justified or just an ass

Me (20s) and my father (60s) got a Jeopardy calender last uear5. Each day it asks a question and you put a guess, you get it right you gain points ("money") if wrong you lose that- essentially just how Jeopardy is. Its a one a day calendar for the full year

Well, each Sunday is a "Double Jeopardy" and you make a bid based on the amount you have. At the start me and my father both wrote down our total amount and how much we made that week, we did this independently. I distinctly remember asking him after that first week how we were betting, and after a discussion we agreed to bet each week what we made (for example, let's say the second week i made 3,000 but my total overall would be 6,000, I would only be able to bet up to 3,000)

Halfway through i have a distinct memory of asking him again how we were doing it, because we were close, but he was ahead. I felt confident on the topic and he wasn't as much. I asked "when you bet, do you bet from the total or from how much you made that week?" He said he never bets over what he made that week and that we only went by what we made. Because of that, I didn't pass him.

About two weeks ago he made a mistake and lost points because he misread a question and I got every question right that week. I got ahead of him by a few thousand.

Even though today isn't the last day of the year, he wanted to do the question because we wouldn't see each other. I agreed even though I was tired and had worked all day

Me, my father, and mother were sitting around their living room as I was visiting. I pulled the calendar out of my purse (its a pocket-sized, about the size of a small notepad, it isnt a calendar you hang on the wall lol).

I said I might as well bet it all, go all in. He asked me my full amount and I told him, he told me his- i was ahead by 2000. I said, again, well i can only do the 3000, so might as well go all in. My mother, who hasn't been involved, simply said don't bet a lot because you want to maintain a lead.

Well I bet the full 3,000 and got the question right! However, my father bet an amount he DID NOT make in the week NOR what you could make in the week. We both got the question right, so now he's thousands ahead.

I claimed that wasn't correct or how we had been doing it. He claims "you said all in, I thought you meant your total amount" I stated "no, I said the full 3,000 I had made first off, second off we've never bet from our total if we had I would have bet more on this". He is now claiming that only *I* was going by that, he wasn't, but that he had never bet more then what he had made that week so it didn't pertain to him to do that. He claims that *i* said I would be doing that, but he "didn't realize" we both were.

I told him we discussed this multiple times and he did agree that we had discussed it. Anyways, he is claiming he is the winner cause he has more now, and is bragging. I called him a cheater and am a bit frustrated. I didnt raise my voice, didnt curse, I only said "yeah but you're a cheater, you cheated so it isn't a real win" with a slight edge to my voice. To which he got upset and rose his voice and called me a sore loser and told me to stop being an ass. I didnt respond and so He says "well we will both follow that rule next year, you can win next year" EVEN though we BOTH followed the rule this year.

My mother didn't know about those conversations and said she wasn't sure what j meant when I said all in, she assumed I meant my full amount but she did hear me say 3000 is all I can bet im all in, and she didn't know why when I had a total amount larger then that

This frustrates me because when he's been ahead of me in points he makes digs at me, and when I do well he dismisses it. He makes jokes about how I'm not good at geography and there are a lot of geographic question (jokes on him, the final question of the year was a geography question and I knew it).

I wouldn't be upset if I had gotten the question wrong, but I got it right and SHOULD have won. In my mind, I DID win, but he is saying I don't have more points so I didnt win.

Like I said, I know this isn't like a serious life or death situation, but it actually does matter to me because idk if I'm blowing it out of proportion or not. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 14: Hard To Kill (Part 2)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

This chapter contains a mature theme present in canon (Journal 3).

Rob arrived opposite the Mystery Shack by pure, blind luck after only fifteen minutes and discovered absolutely nothing of significance happening after a cursory glance through the wall (an action that felt somehow illicit). That didn't bode well. Surely the presence of a giant ice cream cone and/or a freaky cyclops would cause a panic, right? Either the 'problem' had been swiftly dealt with or neither Bill nor Sarah had actually come here, which, well, if they weren't here, where on Earth could they be? Had he misread her intentions? Why oh why hadn't he asked her for clarification on the plan? Oh, right- she had left before he could even finish his sentence! Being a ghost kind of sucked. Then again, she probably would have done the same thing if he wasn't a ghost, too. Why couldn't he have gotten stuck with somebody more sensible?

With a bitter sigh and a hung head that felt more self-loathing than anything, he turned away and headed into town to face the crippling fear of seeing new people that he found out he had apparently developed. Great.

-

Bill stumbled aimlessly around. He still had that grimace-looking grin on his face, but after tailing him through town, sneaking behind lampposts, slipping into shadowy patches, and blending in with the occasional yellow or orange object, Sarah thought he might not actually know the way to where he wanted to go. Part of her wanted to step out and give him directions, but- and this only occurred to her after she had already put one foot into the light- she didn't really know her way around either.

He turned around at the noise of her footstep and she quickly darted behind the corner of a building. When he followed, she was 'gone', or rather she had quickly scrambled onto the roof of the building and was now peering over the edge at him. To him, she might as well have been gone, though, and so he turned to the sign above the door, a sign that indicated this was-

He laughed loudly to himself and ran into the general store, smacking into the door hands-free so hard it opened up for him.

Sarah flinched and shook her head as if to say, 'oh, eldritch demons puppeteering physical bodies- you gotta love them'. She wondered whether it was intentional or an accident. Bill's next action was to smack abruptly into several merchandise stands and draw the attention of a few shoppers, which didn't help answer that question.

She hid at the edge of the doorway as he pulled a hoodie reading 'KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON... COMPLIMENTING ME ON MY HOODIE!' from a rack with other kitschy clothing. The chest was a bit too large on Rob's skinny frame and the hood was a bit too small for his massive head to fit comfortably, but after a moment of rather painful squeezing he managed to get it on and even pull it down over his eye. That and a pair of pink exercise sweatpants made it hard to tell he wasn't just a gaunt human with no fashion sense and a taste for outdated slogans (or, since this was probably 2012, perfectly popular slogans). Rob had a bit of (Elmore) money in his backpack, but Bill didn't realize that. Heck, he might not have even realized the thing on Rob's back was a backpack at all. Instead, he opted to make a mad dash for the door. The clerk hurried from behind his counter and put a hand on Bill's shoulder and then Rob's head spun 360 degrees with a loud snap.

"Woah," whispered Sarah to herself, "Rob can do that?"

"Woah," said Rob, watching in horror from about 15 feet away, having arrived moments earlier, "I can do that?"

A sinking feeling in his chest told him that maybe the snap meant he couldn't do that. And here Bill was, a glutton for pain with a total disregard for his capabilities, doing it anyway. At least he wasn't dead. Wait, he didn't have a neck- what snapped? Would it hurt when he got the body back? Agh.

"S-sir," the clerk stuttered, quaking in his boots, "You can't just knock out half our customers, steal our merchandise, and leave! You need to at least pay for those clothes!"

"Hey, hey! I didn't knock anybody out-" Bill glanced over and saw that two of the five or so other shoppers were on the ground- "on purpose."

"Are you even human? 'Cause, I could have sworn-"

Bill reached up and flicked him in the eye.

"I'm Rob, and I'm robbing you!" he said in a very un-Rob way. As soon as the clerk reached for his phone, Bill grabbed it out of his hand and tossed it on the floor, shattering it into a menagerie of electronic bits and pieces. He was gone before he could hear that a customer was calling 911. If he realized at all that his odd outfit made him an easy criminal to describe, it didn't concern him. Now, he just had to get to the-

He, just like Rob and Sarah, didn't know which direction it was in. And then Rob tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you looking for the Mystery Shack, dude?"

"That's none of your-"

"It's that way," Rob said, pointing down the road. "I went there when I was looking for you."

Bill turned around, went all, 'why are you being so nice to me?' for a moment, and then ran off in the direction of Rob's outstretched finger, giving a little nod as thanks, something he was entirely unaccustomed to doing. Rob's mindscape arm fell limp at his side once again. Just then, Sarah's eyes blinked on the wall next to him, startling him, and she stepped out of the shadow of an awning with a pack of socks.

"Rob! Wherever you are! Look what I got!" she whisper-shouted, backing into the shadow again when a few patrons left the general store looking fearful. He waited for her to elaborate and eventually she did. "Even the drabbest sock can be a puppet with a little bit of imagination, right? Oh, I hope this works."

With that she tossed the sock into the road. He reached for it, tried to slide his hand into it, and found that it went right through. Sarah's hope faded with every passing moment.

"Wait right here. I'll go steal a phone!"

He would have done a spittake if he had anything in his mouth, but he ended up just dropping his jaw as Sarah once again slid out of sight. She returned a few short moments later with a flip phone and a proud little grin.

"I used to do this all the time when I needed to stalk 'somebody's' messages, if you know what I mean," Sarah chuckled, doing air quotes. "The hard part was getting into the house."

Rob, who had squatted in 'somebody's' house for upwards of several months and stolen plenty of things from his family, was more concerned by her words than he had any right to be, but he shook his head and reached for the phone and put it to his nonexistent ear. "Testing, testing," he said, and Sarah grinned sleazily in response.

"Coming through loud and clear! By which I mean, be a little quieter."

Before he could process those instructions, she grabbed the phone out of midair with his arm still attached and pulled him indirectly into a shady spot behind a dumpster.

"What was your plan with sending him on his way? Trying to expedite the plot? What if this makes some sort of time paradox happen? You know, that's actually cool with me, because it's like, you know, canon divergence- I'm gonna have to keep a close eye on how everything plays out from here, and I'm gonna have to make a mental note of everything. Ha ha, whoops, did I just get a little intense there?"

Rob's voice came through the receiver on the phone.

"A little."

"We should go to the Shack and see what he does. And then help him out! Or would it be better to stop him?"

"He-"

"Imagine being his allies, Rob! Wouldn't that be so cool? We've been off to a rocky start, but, like, he likes freaks and one-eyed people, right? I just assume so considering- well, that's not important. Anyway, you're both of those things, but I mean the first one as a compliment, or at least a neutral type deal..."

"-HE'S NOT GOING TO THE SHACK!"

"What?"

"I pointed him in the wrong direction! What, you think I want to help him?"

"You did kinda sorta give up your body."

"That was your plan! I was running on fifteen minutes of sleep back there! This whole thing is insane- if it was up to me I'd have stayed far away from all of this, but no, you had to- to meddle with the plot!"

"To be fair, Bill did visit you in your dreams before I even did anything."

"..."

"Rob? You there?"

He sighed theatrically and then turned the phone off, signaling an end to the conversation. This whole thing was messing with Rob's head.

-

This whole thing was messing with Bill's head, too, and that was no small feat.

No matter how many permutations he ran, no matter how much of his vast knowledge he racked for answers that would have his predicament suddenly make sense, he came up empty, like a late prospector panning for gold thirty years after the end of the Gold Rush. Moreover, as he saw the treeline approaching, he realized that either the kid had pulled a fast one on him or he had veered so far off course with these inhumanly long legs that he was no longer headed for his intended destination. Both of them made his blood boil (if this body had any- which he was beginning to doubt).

Every time he resolved to just abandon these two creeps and their annoying holier-than-thou attitude for the safe predictability of his original plans, part of him said, 'it'd be so satisfying to find a cheap and easy way out', which was true. It would also be satisfying to finally get the upper hand in the little game he was so sure those two were playing with him! If only he could figure out what sort of game it was! Could he really be overthinking all this? Was he digging himself into a pit? No, it couldn't be. They were mortals, albeit annoying mortals, and he had no reason to fear them and their bizarre nonchalant attitude and their weird biology and their uncomfortable personal knowledge about him and his future plans- no reason to fear them! No reason to fear them! No, this wasn't fear, it was confusion! Confusion that somehow felt worse than fear. He couldn't get tired because he was a being of pure energy, and yet somehow his old mortal foibles were coming back to haunt him. Unbeknownst to him, though, this body was also getting tired. His leg was dragging and his coordination was getting worse with every passing sleepless moment.

This wasn't the way to the portal. But then which way was it?

His vision flashed red. If he left the mind now he was never ever getting another chance to find out about Rob's escape method. He had one choice and one choice only.

He stumbled to the edge of the treeline, fell over onto his back, and slept. Rob reentered the body at 75 miles per hour. Thankfully, it wasn't in the state to wake up even as its foremost occupant changed.

'Why, oh why won't somebody hand me the answers?' Bill thought, and then he was in the dreamscape again like this was his much-loathed office job and he had a paycheck to work towards. He did- he did. His paycheck was his party a billion years in the making. He just had to work for it... work smarter, not harder. He was a smart guy. he had to do this in a smart way. One well-placed teleport later, he found himself in a familiar room.

"Do you guys want out of those cages?" he asked.

"No," said memory-Rob #1.

"Nuh-uh," said memory-Rob #2.

"We aren't about to help you with your plan," said Superintendent Rob. "Do you take us for fools?"

All five eyes in the room turned to memory-Rob #3, who conveniently avoided all four gazes.

"I want out," he said.

With a snap of Bill's fingers, three cloth coverings were back on and the bars of the fourth cage were rendered soft and pliable.

"Am I your apprentice? Could you teach me tips for how to laugh like you?" Wrecker- it was a much catchier name than memory-Rob #3- asked, pushing the bars apart and looking up at Bill with a sparkling pupil. "Not to be too clingy, of course. It doesn't need to be an apprenticeship! It could be a leader/henchman sort of thing! I don't normally fancy myself a henchman, but for you I could certainly make an exception."

Geez, was this guy seriously still part of present-day Rob? If he could bring this side of the kid out in the waking world he could definitely use it to his advantage.

"...Can I call you 'boss'?" Wrecker asked. This was all moving too fast.

"Uh, call me what you want. I have a very important job for you."

"Ah! A job! What kind of job, boss?"

"We're going to divide and conquer. You take, say, everything west of this office, I take everything east. You scour this dreamscape and try to find the memory of how the kid got out of his dimension. I'll do the same. And- tell you what- if this all works out, I'll give you a little something in return when I copy his methods and get out myself! How does a physical body sound?"

"We have a physical body already, boss."

"No, I mean one just for you. You're special, kid, and I like that. I'm offering to turn you into a separate person from the sad sack in charge! I'll make you, uh, an enforcer for me. And I'll give you your own wrecking ball and free reign to destroy anything you'd like."

"Do you think of me as some wanton force of destruction? Let it be known that Dr. Wrrrecker is a coordinated force of destruction with his own goals-"

"Just to be clear, you're talking about yourself?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. Anyways, as I was saying, I don't destroy for the purpose of destruction, no, I destroy for the purpose of ruining my nemesis and the things he loves... and sometimes for my personal benefit, but that's neither here nor there- ahem! I don't want your wrecking ball. No, no, scratch that, I do want it. But I want it to be plated in gold! And I want room and board! And I want you to help make my nemesis suffer for his wrongs!"

"Your nemesis, huh? Who is that?"

"He-"

Wrecker hummed absently to himself, tapped his chin, and walked in a small circle.

"Ah, you know, it'll come to me by the time weirdmageddon begins, I'm sure. Let's start the job! It's a pleasure working with you!"

The eager young evildoer rushed off before Bill could ask him where he learned the 'W' word. Hey, if that personality had main-Rob's memories, why couldn't Bill just ask him-

"Hey! Hey, I have a better idea! And an easier one, too!"

Wrecker turned around.

"Just let me know how Rob- I mean you- I mean- you know what I mean! Why don'tcha tell me how he made it to and from the nightmare realm?"

"To? Let me think- ah, that's easy. On the back of a van."

"...Huh? Uh, did I hear you right, just now?"

"It was a red van," Wrecker clarified, as if that helped.

"And from? How did he get from the nightmare realm into the third dimension?"

"If I tell you that, the deal will be off."

"Of course, of course. What a laugh! One more thing. Where'd you learn the word weirdmageddon, huh? Nobody has even said it yet."

"Telling you that also means the deal will be off... boss."

Bill dug his fingers into what passed for his forehead and turned red-hot without even thinking about it.

"...Uh, are you okay?"

"I'M JUST-" he pulled himself together- "CONSIdering my choices, here. You get it."

"Don't worry, I'm no stranger to anger issues, boss-"

"I DO NOT HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" Bill was red again, and Wrecker was defensively raising his hands. "IF YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH YOURSELF, YOU'D BE ANGRY TOO!"

"I'm dealing with myself every second of every day."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEAN AND YOU KNOW IT! I CAN ONLY IMAGINE WHAT SORTS OF OPPORTUNITIES I'M LOSING OUT ON BECAUSE I'M HERE SPEAKING TO YOU!"

"Then why don't you just leave?"

Bill shrunk back down into unassuming yellow.

"You and I agree on one thing, at least. You know what? I'm leaving. I'm ending this right here, right now... no. No, I have a much better idea!"

"Excellent. What's the idea, boss?"

"Don't call me boss, you worthless irregular disaster!"

"I- okay. What's the-"

"You'll find out." Bill let out a spine-chilling laugh. "YOU'LL FIND OUT! CIAO!"

"Alright, I won't push the topic," said Wrecker as the dreamscape dissolved. That last echoing declaration on Bill's part had rung out across the cyclops' consciousness and was the last thing in present-day Rob's head as he watched his body get up off the ground and scan the sky around him. All hesitation was gone from his face. Rob's stomach churned at the thought of this 'much better idea', and it only got worse when Bill noticed- and started towards- the water tower poking above the trees. It only took a few minutes on a path through the woods to get there. At the foot of the structure, Bill leaned up against one of the support poles and turned to Rob, who had forgotten for a moment that Bill could see him.

"Remember how I said you're gonna die at 67?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me-"

"Let's change fate. You're all about defying fate, aren't you, pal?"

"Wait! Please, don't kill me, man, I barely even did anything with my life!"

"Bodies are just limiters on the true power of the mind! I'm not killing you- I'm giving your mind the chance to live for the rest of eternity. It's called generosity, kid, ever heard of it?"

"You think I want this? You're insane!"

"S-"

"Your next line is, 'sure I am, what's your point?'"

"...N-No it wasn't. It was, uh, gonna be something else..."

"What? What, pray tell, was it gonna be?"

"Uh, uh- that doesn't matter! I won't give you the satisfaction of hearing my comeback! From now on it's plan A and only Plan A, and Plan A doesn't involve you or your ice cream girlfriend. All I have to do is get you out of my way!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"I couldn't care less if I had an eternity to try, kid! From here on out, as my own boss, I'm making an executive decision to ignore you!"

With that, he slowly began to summit the tower, and Rob's begging fell on deaf (and nonexistent) ears.

-

Sarah wasn't looking skyward. Even if she had been, the far side of the water tower would have been out of view from her vantage point, but that hardly mattered, because right now she was more concerned with making sure Rob knew he was wanted by the police. Earlier she had heard someone near the station mention something about a 'manhunt', which she worried was a sign of an impending search for her incredibly conspicuous and not-so-stealth-minded camping buddy. She slunk around, occasionally sticking her phone out like a dowsing rod and swinging it in a slow arc. No sign of any interference. 'Not to worry', she thought to herself, 'even if they do find him, I could probably take them'

... as long as she could find him before they did.

-

The van pulled onto the highway and out of a transient portal, wheels screeching against the asphalt, engines roaring, its driver's mind racing faster than his body. He would get his money from that thieving shoplifter girl and then be back to safety...

...as long as he found her before the time police found him.

-

"You thought you could pull the wool over my eye? Outplay a master manipulator on his own turf? Get the last laugh? You're nobody!"

"I never thought any of that. This is all one big misunderstanding, I swear. Please, please, don't do this."

"Hearing you beg almost makes this whole thing worthwhile, you know that? Say goodbye."

The drop was enormous. As Rob looked down, he thought, 'I've only ever been this high up once before', and then he thought, 'wait a minute, I've been this high up once before!'

His pleading caught in his throat.

"...Bye. It's been good knowing you," Rob said with a sudden tiny smirk that gave Bill pause.

"Looks like you accepted your fate, is that it?"

"I accepted my fate, alright. Just- I'm curious- how many of my memories did you look through?"

"Most of 'em."

Rob said nothing more.

"I like your style. No need for a big climax! Let's end this like an art film- without much fanfare, and with a pit in your stomach afterwards that'll last a long, long time!"

Bill stepped to the edge of the tower with that same psychotic grin and Rob looked away. There was silence for several too-long seconds and then a loud crunch. Bill opened his eye- no, Rob's eye. Why was he still in Rob's body?

He peeled himself up from the dirt and wriggled his fingers. Not dead. NOT DEAD?! He could- he could try something else! He could use a bear trap, or shoot himself, or use a chainsaw- but what if none of those worked? What if he ended up wasting even more time than he already had and making a fool of himself? Where was he even gonna get a gun or a chainsaw if he couldn't find his way around one tiny town? It wasn't fair! Nothing was ever fair for him!

"WHAT ARE YOU?"

"I'm a cartoon character," said Rob, crossing his arms.

"'Scuse me?"

"Knock yourself out, man!" Rob floated down to him and leaned right into his face, striking a dramatic pose as if his nonexistent self-esteem had suddenly regenerated in full. "I've been blown up! Battered! Squeezed through the universe's ringer! Erased from existence- twice! There is nothing you can do to me, dude, so face it."

There was just a little bit of Wrecker coming through- but not the part that would help Bill. He had all of the confidence and none of the naïveté.

"I'll break your arms."

"Oh, they'll get better."

"You're not even gonna protest?"

"You want me to protest! I'm not doing what you want anymore! I'm doing what I want! Me! It's my life! From now on this story is about me!"

"...I don't want you to punch yourself in the face."

"Nice try. I don't want to punch myself in the face, either."

"Worth a shot. You'll see me again when doomsday comes, and then I'll make you punch yourself in the face over and over again for the rest of eternity. Who's really getting the last laugh? Chew on that one!"

Rob thought, 'joke's on you, doomsday's only gonna last a few days', and then thought, 'actually, a few days of punching myself in the face over and over will still be pretty bad'. He said neither thing out loud as Bill headed for the main road with a visible limp and slightly-tempered smile.

"The cars are gonna see you and stop before they hit you, you know."

"You're overestimating human drivers and underestimating tight corners! See, I'm gonna hide behind this rock and dive in the way of the first automobile that passes by!"

"I'm gonna... float away and leave you to it."

"Stick around and watch me. What are you, chicken?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in tune with my own limitations. Can you say the same?"

"I have no limitations!"

Rob was already either out of earshot or pretending to be out of earshot. Bill was, as he had done many times before, setting up a future of pain and suffering for an unlucky mark of his, so why did it feel like he was the loser this time? As he put his plan into action he swore that he would never think about any of this again the moment it was over. His reaction speeds were too slow, or the driver's reaction speed was too fast- the van swerved to a stop just inches from his face and a shadowy figure popped its head out of the window. A bold choice, in broad daylight.

"Rob!" said the driver, and Bill recalled something like this in one or two of the memories he had seen. Hey, wait a minute, this was a red van...

"Have you met up with Sarah, at all? I have a pressing matter I need to speak to her about."

"I'm not Rob," Bill responded.

"You aren't? Could have fooled me. Then who-"

"Do you want infinite wealth? Infinite power? Infinite fame?" Bill's voice was hoarse. "Lemme tell you, it's your lucky day. I have a friend who would give you aaaall of that in exchange for a tiny favor. You'd just need to head back to the Nightmare Realm and pick him up! Think you can manage?"

"Maybe. What's the Nightmare Realm?"

Bill smacked his head on the hood of the van so hard it left a tiny dent.

"I thought you were the one who took him to that forsaken place! Whaddaya mean, 'what's the nightmare realm'?"

"Who's 'him?"

"..."

"Are you alright?"

"...I hate you. I hate you and Rob and Sarah and whatever backwards dimension you folks clawed your way out of! I can't believe I've been wasting so much time on your pointless little companions! This isn't over! THIS ISN'T OVER!"

And in that moment, it was over. The body was vacated. Rob felt a searing pain in his, well, everything. Just then, driven by some contrivance of fate, Sarah appeared in the distance.

"Bill! Rob! There's something I have to tell you!"

"Bill's not here," mumbled Rob, and then passed out yet again, leaving Sarah to approach the van.

"You came back!" She giggled. "How much for that DVD?"

"Thirty bucks."

"I don't have thirty bucks. See, if I had, I would have totally paid for it-"

"Neither of you are leaving this place until you earn me my money."

"Rob has 15 bucks!"

"Rob didn't steal from me-" The shopkeeper then remembered that Rob had, in fact, stolen from him on at least one occasion- "...this time."

"30 bucks! I have my ways! I'll have them in to you by, say, the end of the night?"

"No stealing."

Sarah's face fell.

"Uh, no stealing...?"

"My purchases come with moral lessons. I'm trying to teach you that stealing is wrong- no stealing the money you're going to use to pay for the DVD."

"How will you tell? And- and- isn't most of the stuff you sell pretty much illegal?"

"Most of the stuff I sell has no laws on the books about it yet."

"So why do you care if I steal?"

"It's the principle of the thing! Moral lessons are my whole deal!"

"Fine, fine, I'll get you your money. You said nobody's leaving? Does that include you?"

"Oh, no. I'm leaving. I'll be back tonight. I'm kind of on the run from the time police a little bit."

"Hwuh?"

"Thirty bucks! Tonight!" said the shopkeeper, and the van darted nimbly around Rob's collapsed body, vanishing in a cloud of exhaust.

[caffeinatedowlbear]

Hello,

I have a really stupid, almost embarrassing question about your Rhack texts headcanon (specifically 'Lost and Found', but not only). Somehow I have only now noticed that a couple of fics have a trans-Rhys tag. Does that imply Rhys is a T-male in the whole 'Lost and Found' series?

I mean, I checked throughout the texts once again, and it kinda fits in place if I'm not misreading it. I mean, it's totally fine if I am misreading it. But if the answer is 'yes', if I'm really not misreading it, then OMG IT'S BRILLIANT. I don't know how to grant you a truckload of kudos, because that would be the most exquisite, the most top-notch accurate T-inclusive smut in the world I've ever read!!!

Sorry for emotions, it's a bit personal for me, and I'm just head over heels for this little detail.

Sincerely,

A huge, huge fan of yours :)

Hi, I hope it's okay to answer this in public; if not, lmk and I'll take it down.

I can confirm that you're correct! In my Lost and Found AU (including spin-offs), Rhys is a trans man. I noted it specifically in the tags for the smut fics because I felt that was the one time when anatomy was relevant, lol

Throughout the main text of L&F, I didn't draw attention to Rhys's gender identity because it isn't a plot point, but just a part of who he is. However, the clues are there if you know where to look - and it sounds like you've been picking up what I've been putting down. 😏

Some extra headcanon / L&F canon:

- AI Jack has always known Rhys is trans; it's the kind of thing you pick up when sharing a body.

- In his earlier forays into the VR (including during the time period where the smutty spin-offs take place), Rhys would use an avatar with cis-male anatomy (because why not), but later adjusted his digital form to match his body out in the world.

Thank you for your kind words, and I'm very happy to hear the trans rep in my Rhack fics brought you joy! 💛

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

157 of 2025

1) How old do you look?

People say mid-20s. I'm about 10 years older than I look.

2) Where do you live?

Belgium.

3) Are you waiting for something?

Yeah, my husband to decide what to order from Takeaway.

4) What's one pet peeve of yours that is not common?

I don't know if it's common or not, but people blocking the aisle in the store with their cradles. Like, you're not the only person in the shop, you know?

5) Last myspace message you received, what'd it say?

Lol does myspace even still exist?

6) Can you handle the truth?

You can't handle the truth. Sorry I had to.

7) Did you cry today?

Kind of. I was upset because my husband was an asshole today. It never lasts long, but yeah, it's fkn annoying.

8) Do you hate the last person you had a conversation with?

My husband, about food and selling things/printing the shipping label.

Welp I misread this question XD nope, I don't hate him. I love him, very much so. Even though he's a pain in the ass sometimes.

9) Do you have kids?

No, I don't. Not on my own. But I have a stepson, so yeah, I think it counts as having a child.

10) Have you ever thought about converting your religion?

Nah. I was raised Catholic, went through atheist phase when I was younger, then agnostic, now I'm closer to my faith than ever, but I don't believe in organised religion. I disagree with many things Catholicism says. I go to the church, but only when I have an inner need, not for holy masses.

11) Last shocking news you heard?

Pope Francis passed away.

12) What was the last thing you drank?

Just some Fanta with my evening meds.

13) Last person you hugged?

My husband, too. He pissed me off, but in the end, I still love him.

14) Who do you most look like in your family?

A mix of my mum and dad.

15) Did you dream last night?

Yeah. I had a dream about friendly big black dog and four orange kitties. And strawberries on a cherry tree lol.

16) How many piercings do you have?

Nine in total. Six in my ears (three in each), left eyebrow and snakebites.

17) If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be?

Another kitty, a night train ride, a new tattoo.

18) Does anyone call you babe?

Thankfully not. I hate it. On a personal level, I find pet names cringy.

19) Where does most of your family live?

In Belgium, but my closest family resides in France now.

20) Where did you grow up?

Middelkerke, Belgium. Yes we got the coast.

21) Where do you want to go on vacation?

Poland again.

22) Have you broken a bone?

Nope, never in my life. But I drink a lot of milk, maybe that's why.

23) What did you receive for Valentine's Day?

Literally nothing lol. Wait, some tulips.

24) Have you ever had a panic attack?

Probably. Or maybe it was actually a seizure. I don't know anymore.

25) Can you sleep in jeans?

Lol no. Way too thick. I cannot sleep in anything other than underwear.

26) What can't you wait for?

Visiting my parents this summer.

27) When's the last time you told someone you loved them and meant it?

Today. My husband is difficult sometimes, but he knows I love him.

28) Have your parents ever smoked pot?

My dad did. He didn't really like it, though.

29) Want someone back in your life?

Yeah. That friend who used to call me "his little brother".

30) Do you live near your most recent ex?

No. He moves across the Europe as he's a soldier. I still love him, though. We're still close friends.

31) Are you good at giving directions?

No. I have a photographic memory, but I£ cannot describe what I see with words. So I see the way clearly, but I cannot find words for what I see.

32) What do you order at the bar?

I don't go to bars.

33) When was the last time you cried really, really hard?

In December 2023, when my beloved kitty Victoria passed away.

34) Who was your last text from?

My dad, probably.

35) Ever licked someone's cheek?

No, but my cat enjoys licking my cheek.

36) what is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter?

Nothing, I hate peanut butter..

37) Where were you on July 4th, 2007?

Oh damn lol, this survey is old. It was 18 years ago, right?

38) What body part(s) do you wash first in the shower?

...do you really want to know it?

39) Have you ever kissed anyone who's name started with a D?

Nope.

40) Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

Warm, but not too hot. Preferably sunny. I like thunderstorms, too.

41) What do you currently hear right now?

Husband is watching snooker in TV.

42) Does someone like you right now?

I hope my husband does lol. It's been years together.

43) Could you go out in public looking like you do now?

Nope. I'm just out from the shower.

44) What are your nicknames?

Jelle, this is what my family nicknamed me because apparently I was responding with Jelle when I was a toddler, being asked what my name is. One of my friends calls me "koekstje" and I find it funny.

45) On the opposite sex where do you like them to have piercings?

I don't care for the opposite sex, I'm gay.

46) If you could go any place in the world right now where would you go?

To my parents.

47) Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something?

No. My husband never breaks things lol.

48) Have you ever kissed someone and hated it?

Kind of. That's how I discovered I'm not into kissing.

49) What is your favorite color?

Black, green, purple. Not all shades, though.

50) If you could go back in time, how far back would you go?

Before I got disabled so maybe I would prevent it.