#we all code switch and stuff

[nerdy-chocobo]

it's crazy that masking is, as far as I know at least, a reasonably well accepted and understandable part of autism, if anything people pity us for it. but as soon as someone talks about masking in narcissistic personality disorder, suddenly it's manipulation and lying about who you are

[twinstxrs]

the gorgug-porter conversation is interesting to me because like. yea for the overwhelming majority of the conversation porter’s being shitty & trying to fit gorgug into a box that gorgug just does not fit into by trying to make gorgug’s relationship with his rage more focused on the aggression aspect of it. but then there’s also this specific thing that brennan brought up again in the ap, which is that gorgug’s relationship with his rage is wholly “this is a tool i use to protect my friends.” which isn’t a bad thing! but that’s his Whole relationship with it, & gorgug seems to place next to no value on his rage in relationship to himself. which is problematic, because it’s first & foremost his rage.

being raised in a household with a sort of toxic positivity largely meant that, whether or not it was his parents’ intention, gorgug internalized the message that more traditionally “negative” emotions such as anger are the wrong response to something. part of the reason he prioritizes his artificing is probably because it’s “fixing” things. in comparison to being a barbarian, which gorgug associates with “breaking” things. good vs. bad behavior, in his eyes.

it’s a totally unacceptable bar to measure a 16 y/o by, but i do think part of porter’s reasoning for not letting gorgug multiclass is him recognizing that gorgug generally does not value anger as a valid emotional response to something, at the very least for himself. & that directly conflicts with what being a barbarian is, because whether you like it or not, that rage is what fuels you. but again, barring a kid from pursuing something they deeply care about in part (not entirely, porter has a lot of more bullshit reasons) because of their fundamental values & world outlook is crazy.

so yes, 98% of porter’s reasoning is pretty shitty, immature, rife with a toxic view that there’s only one proper way to access rage, & generally not a good thing to do as a teacher, but also within that reasoning is the 2% of ‘there is a fundamental part of yourself that you only value if you can use it to take care of other people & you need to accept that as something that can take care of you, too.’ but that’s something to discuss with a therapist or a guidance counselor, not something that should hugely impact gorgug’s academic future.

[aliusfrater]

for the life of me i cannot figure out why people are so desperate to apply a version of dean's facade to sam

[leafy-m]

So I hit my 700th edit for the WHA wiki today, because I am a totally normal person

[slumbering-shadows]

I finally bit the bullet and just made a new xbox account. My old one was originally made on my mom's email (I was very young and she watches too much dateline) and since it is a microsoft email, there is??? No way to change the email attached to the account without straight up deleting the email itself??? because Microsoft hates me personally i guess. Anyway that means that

1) when my mom changes her email password and forgets to tell me, I am locked out of my whole ass xbox until she answers me which could take anywhere from 10 minutes to 3 days. which doesn't seem like a lot but it is MY xbox. with MY games. and I should be able to play it on my schedule not hers.

2) I cannot personalize my account because it changes her email information. rip my mother's professional image because she still hasn't noticed I accidentally changed her pfp to a chibi stefano valentini like 6yesrs ago

3) if there's some sort of security issue where Microsoft says its time for 2 step verification, I either have to wait for her to send me the code from her email, OR, I have to get her to send me. the code. That Microsoft will text her. In order for me to sign into her email on my computer to grab the xbox code myself. both of which require both of us to be available at the exact same time bc those codes expire in 1 minute usually

4) cannot enter giveaways

5) my mother is petty and vindictive and I'm always terrified that if she gets into a Mood she will simply change the password and never let me into my xbox account ever again which will cost me (what I thought was) hundreds of dollars and literal years of progress

well turns out I only digitally own like 3 games. The rest of them are on disc or my husband's. So I'm not out so much money! However. There's no way to transfer my progress between accounts I don't think. Which means I get to completely replay diablo 3 (AGAIN!!! FUCKING AGAIN!!! THIRD FUCKING TIME!!!!!), the witcher 3, monster hunter world, and assassins creed origins.... from scratch. you know. huge long games. that I've sunk literally hundreds of hours into already. fucking hell

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He teaches you the language of his work

You sat cross-legged on the bed, watching as Simon cleaned his gear with practiced precision. The way his hands moved—effortless, efficient, lethal—had always fascinated you. Tonight, though, you wanted more than just to watch.

“Teach me,” you said suddenly.

Simon glanced up from his work, an eyebrow raised. “Teach you what, love?”

You gestured toward the radio earpiece resting on the nightstand. “Your language. The stuff you and the team say during missions. It sounds like code, but I want to understand.”

Simon leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Because it’s part of you. And I want to know every part of you.”

His expression softened just a little before he shook his head, smirking. “Alright. Let’s see what you can handle.”

He picked up his radio, flicking a switch before tapping the side of it. “First thing—comms check. We always confirm we’re on the same channel before anything else. So if I say, ‘Check, one-two,’ you say…?”

“Uh… Check, three-four?” you guessed, grinning.

Simon huffed a laugh. “Smartass. You’d say, ‘Loud and clear.’”

You nodded, filing that away. “Got it. What else?”

He set the radio down, eyes glinting. “Breach and clear?”

You thought for a moment. “Going in and making sure the area’s safe?”

“Good girl.”

The praise sent a shiver down your spine, but you bit your lip, staying focused. “What about ‘Oscar Mike’? I’ve heard you say that one.”

Simon smirked. “Means ‘on the move.’”

“Okay,” you nodded. “And what about ‘RTB’?”

“Return to base.”

Your eyes lit up. “See? I’m getting it.”

He hummed, clearly amused. “You are. Alright, one more. ‘Sitrep.’”

You tilted your head. “That’s like… an update on the situation, right?”

Simon’s smirk widened. “Look at you, pickin’ things up quick.”

You felt a warm flutter of pride in your chest. “Maybe I should join your team.”

Simon’s expression darkened instantly. “No.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

You blinked. “I was joking, Simon.”

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “I know. But I don’t like hearin’ it. Don’t want you anywhere near that life.”

The intensity in his voice sent a different kind of shiver through you—not fear, but something deeper. Possessiveness. Protection.

You reached out, fingers tracing his forearm. “I just want to understand you better. That’s all.”

Simon’s eyes softened, his fingers curling over yours. “You already do.”

There was a pause, thick with tension, before his smirk returned. “But since you’re so keen on learnin’, let’s see how well you follow orders.”

You arched a brow. “Orders?”

Simon leaned in, voice dropping to a low, teasing rasp. “How about this, love—‘assume the position.’”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing through you. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Simon smirked, his hands sliding to your waist as he flipped you onto your stomach in one swift motion. He leaned over you, his lips brushing your ear.

“Means you listen, you obey… and you don’t ask questions.”

Lesson learned.

[theyluvlyss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 "𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬" 𝐟𝐢𝐜/𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞...

no offense, but it's the same five songs (a.k.a. same plots/reader types) over and over again. like guys - WHERE'S THE CREATIVITY ?! THE FANTASY ?! THE IMAGINATION ?!

like hellooo, there's literally vampires, magic/hoodoo, and a million themes both hidden and not-so-hidden to work with. not to say i'm not loving what i'm seeing right now, don't get it twisted - I am, and y'all are good,,, but I just think we can do more and better😌🙏🏽.

hence why, I present...

a list of some wip's I got goin' for the future, along with my takes on why/how I came up with them😻 !!

but before I begin...

fair warning #1 - you're welcome to be inspired, but plz don't steal, i'm putting so much effort into these, my notes app hasn't been closed not once😭🙏🏽.

fair warning #2 - ikik, most of these are remmick, plz don't come for me✋🏽🥲✋🏽. I was trying to get them all out of my head before I forgot them, I love working with vampire characters, and finally, yes ofc I will be conjuring up some more for bo chow, plenty for stack and smoke, and some for sammie :). I am a multifandom account, after all, I be working on helllllaaaa other things and trying not to forget them all, so cut some slack <3.

fair warning #3 - I mentioned this in my last post, but all of my readers are black/black-coded. obnoxiously so. because, and stay mad about it, but this is for the niggas, strictly for the niggas, like I don't give a FUCK, okay? y'all can request whatever y'all want (within reason, because if I see something weird in my inbox, you're blockt), but when it comes down to prompts like these - where they're made up by me, original thoughts, not asked for, this is my blog and I can post what I want type shit - it always gave black!reader, like it's the norm over here, I shouldn't even have to say it lol.

anyways, onto my wip's /ᐠ^˕^マ !!...

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okayokayokay, I know what I said earlier - "iT's tHe sAmE fIvE sOnGs🙉!!" - but listen... I have yet to see a vamp!reader fic where the reader being turned doesn't happen at the end, and it's vague, and doesn't explore that narrative further.

also, it's always intentional, which I get, yk, but I wanna switch it up, give y'all a taste of it being a complete accident and then further delve into the feelings, effects, experience of reader being turned. ofc, with remmick being there for assistance and emotional support in a rather "morbid-amused-lowkey unwanted by the reader, but they don't got much of a choice rn" sorta way lmfao.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

shoutout to the niggas workin' with brail rn, who's personal documents say "legally blind", who's prescription glasses are THICKKK asf...

I see you😌✊🏽.

was that outta pocket?

my fault, anyways...

my thought process behind this was very adhd, so before you attack me, hear me out lol.

vampires are so cool because one of their abilities is having their senses heightened to an almost unnatural degree - I want a reader who has that same ability, but I don't want them to be a vampire, just super skilled with their senses - how would a reader who's not a vampire have heightened senses? idk,,, what type of humans have heightened senses? - ...blind ppl (💀) have heightened senses cuz they can't see, so they have to rely on the other five to get by (because I believe in sixth senses lol)... crazy connetion, but it's true💀 - LOL imagine remmick and reader going sense for sense fr tho.

mr. I-live-for-the-hunt meets ms. i'm-not-the-one.

shit becomes a "don't breathe" remake rq (without the freaky-deaky stuff towards the end, unless y'all are into that, idk💀✋🏽-).

idk, I see a vibe here, it's getting written fs.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I think it'd just be really funny to write about bo putting up with this silly, dramatic, type of reader. maybe a charlotte "lottie" la bouff type. spoiled but not rotten, definitely a character fr, and he entertains it because he loves it (won't admit it) and reader (admits and shows it).

reader is all pretty and pink and expressive and all her own, and honestly ?? she doesn't really have to go to visit his shop every single day, but she does because this little girl type crush just won't settle (won't admit it, but definitely shows it).

plus, HELLO, black wealth and excellence, idc if it's not fully accurate for the time, it's called fanfiction for a reason. get with it or get lost, let the girlies be drowned in privilege and in bo chow's love, attention, and care😻✨️🩷.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

vampires exist in this world.

you really think i'm not gonna entertain the possibility of other mythical creatures existing as well?

BOOOO LAME‼️

furthermore,,, you really think i'm not bold enough to apply that possibility to some sinners fanfic? did I not JUST talk about creativity??

oh, you not fuckin' with it???

BOOOOO LAAAAMMMEEE TOMATO TOMATO, I'M THROWING TOMATOES‼️🍊‼️🍊‼️.

anyways, I have nothing to explain this/myself more with other than this little sliver of dialogue, for fear of spoiling the fic idea I have in mind/am working on...

. . .

"Oh, honey..." You trailed, barely strangling back a laugh bubbling deep from within your chest, your voice lined with a sense of pity.

Knowingness.

Hardly any question when you asked, "...D'you really think you were the only monster lurkin' through these woods...?"

. . .

THAT'S IT, that's enough, that's all you're getting, teehee🤭🫵🏽.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

i'm a slut for whimsy (and size kinks), what can I say🤷🏽‍♀️?

also, I think I should HEAVILY lean into the "mischievous" aspects of how pixies/fairies are said to be - LOL just some lil' sparkly-winged, elf-eared, three-apples-tall ass creature/reader wreaking havoc on the kkk and others who do wrong, dirty, and evil, reader doing her best to uplift those who don't have her wings, who can't just fly away from the struggles happening all around, reader providing some fun and magic into little boy's and girl's lives, and-

oh, what's this?

reader spotting remmick absolutely devouring some poor soul who crossed his path and, well, they can't help but be interested and curious. maybe even mess with him a little bit.

cue remmick having to put up with reader's mystical magical nonsense, hating every second, but heaven forbid if something happens to the reader😌🥴✋🏽...

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(my picture limit ruined my aesthetic, y'all😔💔)

remmick x jaded!reader

lmfao ik that sounds wild, but lemme cook✋🏽🥴✋🏽...

reader who - doesn't not care - but it takes a lot to actually phase them/gain a physical reaction. and I mean a LOT.

also, like, they're a freak!! god forbid reader sees something they like, like🙀🙄... (throw back another shot after every like).

idk how i'm gonna pull this off, but I just think it'd be amusingly jarring for remmick to come across a reader who has no fears about his ass being a vampire, nor gives any fucks about his threats on turning them. they've seen and been under much worse circumstances...

"ain't no need for that, the last thing I wanna do is be stuck on this earth for another day😒✋🏽..."

"...I...wha-...y-"

"-if you play nice, though, i'll clean ya' up. you gettin' blood all over my laundry and I don't have time to redo the load."

cue unlikely friendship😻?

remmick is the semi-unruly puppy, and reader is the reluctant owner type beat, because you already know he's coming back, no way he's not😹.

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remmick x fiftiesera!reader

i'm feeling nice, so i'll go ahead and leak the title i'm gonna use😌...

. . .

" 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 "

. . .

to sum up what i've got in the oven...

religious themes/god complex/kink(?) - vampire turning ofc😌 - smut (have I mentioned that some of these prompts do include smut?? well, they do lmao) - do you have issues with your parents? reallllyy don't like them?? this fic will potentially heal some of that for you idk lol - the second out of two of my readers who are gonna be a little... naive... but it's fine, most of my readers so far have been pretty, "i'm not with that bullshit" types. we need ✨️balance✨️.

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remmick x heavyflow!reader

I won't lie, I saw a tumblr post on here that fully inspired what I have in mind...

so thanks to them, everybody thank this user lol. all I plan on doing is fleshing out this prompt into a full blown imagine, like deadass.

remmick at your door every time he can smell the start of your cycle...

yes bruh, I used my last pic for a meme, god forbid I put humor over visual pleasure, like🙄✋🏽...

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remmick x 2025era!/modern!reader

no idea what i'm gonna do with this, ngl, I just figured that if i'ma do a reader from the 50's, y'all would start screaming at me to do a modern reader, so🥴💀.

i'll take ideas/requests, tho :D !!

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that's a wrap (for now) !!

again, i'm very aware (and not proud) of the fact it's mostly remmick, but like I said, there's plans for sammie, smoke, stack, and bo, so don't get on my case, I just need time to keep brainstorming before I explode lmfao💀😭.

anyways, stay tuned y'all, because these fics are all currently in the works and I will be honest, the more ppl confirm they're rocking with these prompts and looking forward to them, the more likely/confident i'll be with actually getting them done and done well :).

byeeee, i'll be back in another millenia😻‼️✨️.

[chiarrara]

ran out of tags. a lot on my mind.

jjk american au -

yuuji would be puerto rican on his mom's side, 1/4 black on his dad's side from his grandpa. not much connection to his boricua heritage but still proud of it and wanting to reconnect and claim it by the time he's a teenager. his name would be a combination of his parents names: Kari + Eugene = Jikari. but after his mom left and his dad died, his grandpa raised him and just called him Euji after his dad. He got the nickname Ji/G in middle school, and a lot of times his friends would call out to him "Yooo, G!!" as a running bit. He's from KC, grew up east of troost.

nobara would be from one of the tiny ass towns in rural Oklahoma Northeast of Tulsa and Muskogee. She's Cherokee through her mom and grandma's side, and has tribal citizenship. her dad's white, but she doesn't know anything else about him and he has never been in her life. Her mom named her Briar Rose after sleeping beauty, but she only goes by Rose because she thinks it's a stupid name. Her grandma has some cultural knowledge that she tried to pass down to her daughter, and then to Nobara who took to it a little better.

megumi would grow up in the southside suburbs of chicago. he's second generation white hispanic on his dad's side and ??? on his mom's. his name would be natalia. toji's family is mostly still in mexico where they are truly filty rich. tsumiki is half-filipino on her mom's side. her name would be... idk probably jasmine or something. megumi grew up truly bilingual as his dad speaks primarily Spanish, but even without him around, the people in his building spoke either spanish or english, so he grew up speaking a mix. tsumiki struggles more with spanish because she didn't grow up with it from a young age.

they'd all end up at the same specialty school in chicago proper. nobara wanted to leave and move to a city so applied, yuuji got recruited, and megumi was in a development program since elementary school.

[crystallizedday]

SO

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE NEW DELTARUNE CHAPTERS OR I WILL EXPLODE

I wanna primarily talk about my take on the knight’s identity, but I’ll sprinkle a few other thoughts of mine in if I can, cause HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Anyway

MASSIVE spoilers for Deltarune chapters 3 & 4.

DO NOT CLICK READ MORE IF YOU DO NOT WANNA GET SPOILED!!

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

So

To me, it’s down to Dess & Carol Holiday.

Like

Look at this design.

Those are DEFINITELY antlers.

Toby knows his audience.

He’s poked fun of it in the game before (ie the theorist rant about Mike)

To me, he wouldn’t just include a design detail like that & NOT expect us all to think about the Holiday’s

So either he intentionally made them look like horns

Or it’s a red herring

& I highly doubt it’s the latter.

I DO think there’s a potential red herring, but it’s not in the knight’s design.

SPEAKING OF TOBY KNOWING HIS AUDIENCE & LIKELY HAVING THESE SPRITES HAVE SPECIFIC DETAILS

THOSE HAND HOLES ARE NOT A COINCIDENCE, & I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!

However, I don’t think it’s as mind blowing as it may seem at first.

Most of the fandom already agrees that Gaster has SOMETHING to do with the plot of Deltarune.

The hand holes don’t feel like something that indicates that Gaster is the knight.

Instead, it feels like it merely connects the knight TO Gaster.

Either the knight serves the former scientist (since there is no knight without a leader they follow)

OR

They BOTH are of equal power, people who were once of the light now prisoners of the dark.

Whether they have the same goal is… not clear.

However, the very fact that we now have solid (even if unspoken & rather interpretive) confirmation that the knight and Gaster ARE related

Is a big deal

Even if we all kinda knew that already.

NOW

Back to the Holiday’s.

I actually played through chapter 3 & 4 myself without looking anything up beforehand.

Yes, I missed some things, but from what I DID see, I first came to the conclusion that Carol, Noelle’s mother, was the knight.

In chapter 4, Kris talks to someone on the phone.

Kris seems to be working with someone who wants the dark worlds to spread & grow, hence why they stop the player from reading the bunker code written inside Dess’ guitar (keep that last fact in mind).

We don’t know for certain who this voice belongs to.

Is it the knight?

Gaster?

The same person Spamton spoke with back before his fall from fame?

It all seemed ambiguous

Until this happened.

Kris tells the person on the phone that they failed to stop Susie from getting the guitar.

The person then says they’ll be “right there…”

Which leads to

You cannot tell me with a straight face that this is a coincidence.

Noelle KNOWS her mom’s work hours.

Why would Carol suddenly come home so early?

If Carol was not the one on the phone, then someone or something HAD to come over to Noelle’s.

The voice specifically says “I’ll be right there.”

Not “I’ll stop her”

Or “I’ll send someone.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Carol is the ONLY person who arrives at the house before Susie’s kicked out & Kris follows her.

Not to mention

Like

Toby didn’t highlight “you” in RED merely to create emphasis.

He rarely does that.

We see him highlight stuff in YELLOW in this chapter, sure

But the only other thing he’s highlighted in red (from my recollection) was when Noelle talked about listening in for the presumed “mouse” while she & Susie wait in Dess’ room

& the red text hinted for you to make noise.

Considering that hint was for YOU & not KRIS (since you’re separated from Kris during this scene)

Me thinks it legitimately means something

& wasn’t just Toby deciding to be a lil funny & switch up his text colors for kicks (even if that WOULD be hilarious…)

THE POINT IS

I highly doubt Carol’s talking to Kris in the above scene, or at least, not JUST Kris.

I think she’s talking to the player.

The “you.”

We know from chapter 2’s Snowgrave route (specifically when you are about to defeat Spamton) that “you” refers to the player, not Kris.

Carol’s line here feels intentional.

ANOTHER INTERESTING THING

This COULD be seen as like

A metaphorical thing

(ie to show how “cold” Carol is toward others)

But considering Noelle’s whole thing in chapter 2

& the background ambiance when she arrives

& how Susie comments on FEELING the ACTUAL temperature drop…

It just feels

Too odd to be purely metaphorical.

Do I think this confirms she is the knight?

No.

To me, it merely shows that Carol is a PART of whatever this whole thing is.

Carol COULD be the knight

But to me, it doesn’t feel as thematically fitting as Dess being the knight.

Cause like

Dess is MISSING.

We don’t know HOW she went missing.

No one hasn’t seen her in quite a long time.

It makes sense that Dess, either willingly or forcefully, became the knight.

& when I say “became”

I mean like

MORPHED into it.

She IS the knight.

It is no suit of armor she can take off.

It is no dark world form she can shed if she were to enter the light world (assuming she ever could).

She IS the knight, & the knight is HER.

She is forever warped by a past event we have yet to see.

Plus

Carol feels like she has a few intentional red herrings that would make fans point to HER as the knight

Mainly the kitchen katana that she apparently uses to cut fruitcake with.

THAT feels like a straightforward red herring

Cause it’s TOO obvious.

Besides

The knight doesn’t wield a katana.

If Carol were the knight, I feel like the knight’s sword would be a lot more elegant looking, more katana-like.

It wouldn’t surprise me to see Carol KNOW about her eldest daughter’s fate & actively be working with her.

…

Also WHY IS THERE A NOTE IN DESS’ GUITAR??

Who put that there?

WHEN did they put that there?

I doubt it was Carol. That feels like a weird place to put a code. She feels like the character to have the code on HER at all times.

The code was likely from Dess herself.

Why was it put there?

To remind Dess how to open it (likely causing her to explore the shelter & later go “missing)?

Or perhaps

Somehow

It was written after her disappearance

As a quiet call for help

For SOMEONE to open the bunker & end the nightmare.

Carol could still know about the code without being the one to write it.

If Kris can spot the note so easily after only looking through the guitar ONCE

We can wager that Dess’ MOTHER, who LIVES in that house, likely found out about it at some point, ESPECIALLY if she truly is a part of the madness somehow.

Assuming this is all true, I wonder if Carol never plucked the note out because doing that would require breaking the guitar in some way, & she does not have the heart to do it.

That idea’s more headcanon-y than anything

Cause I’d just love to have a scene like that play out

Where she mumbled to herself about just getting rid of the damn note

But can’t without hurting the strings

Showing that she DOES still care. She DOES have humanity.

It’s just buried in the freezing cold.

…

… so while this seems like a good ending spot

I wanna say one last thing.

Fellas.

F e l l a s.

The later chapters don’t HAVE to abide by a set formula.

I keep seeing people argue whether this or that was the secret boss

& I’m just like

Fellas

It doesn’t have to match chapter 1 & 2’s format.

Hell, chapter 2 diverted from chapter 1’s format by making IT’s secret boss someone you encounter in game no matter how you play, a stark contrast from Jevil, who you can play the entire game without ever seeing a LICK of dialogue about him.

I think, out of everything, we shouldn’t worry about “who the secret boss is.”

No.

We should be more concerned about the shadow crystals & where they end up.

Cause APPARENTLY

DEFEATING THE KNIGHT IN CHAPTER 3 LEADS TO SUSIE CHIPPING OFF A PIECE OF THEIR SWORD

& WHEN YOU GO TO PICK UP THE SHARD

YOU ADDITIONALLY GET A SHADOW CRYSTAL!!

At first, I assumed the shadow crystal came FROM the sword, but that may not be entirely right.

Even still, I think the crystals either come FROM the knight

Or the knight & the crystals come from the same place.

Now, how specific characters get a hold of it

Is… up in the air.

We see Gerson hand one to Susie in chapter 4.

He tells her that someone likely wanted him to use it, but he didn’t find it interesting, so he never really did anything with it.

Perhaps someone (the knight, Carol, Gaster, who knows) is giving certain Darkeners shadow crystals for some unknown reason.

Whatever the reason is, considering the bosses to get these shadow crystals all tie to EXTREMELY hard boss fights, it’s likely a source of power the corrupts the user, just as it did with Jevil & Spamton.

So

By that logic

I suppose the knight IS the secret boss

But more so that the secret to the boss is that it’s winnable

Which feels

Very hilarious & overall Toby-ish to me, not gonna lie. IWNWODMWOCKSOMXOSMXODCM

But uh

Seriously.

We gotta look at how these bosses connect on a far less shallow level. We can’t be too occupied with interpretive patterns in the chapters’ varying story beats

Cause those story beats aren’t always gonna be repeated.

After all, repeating story beats make the rest of the potential chapters predictable

& I doubt Toby’s gonna be doing that…

Anyway uh

That’s all for now.

…

Ya know

Aside from how we finally got concrete confirmation that monsters bleed (so the whole “when you kill sans, you cut through some ketchup he had hidden away to make it look like blood” debate no longer matters)

Ralsai directly addressing how there MUST be another ending to their story (& suggesting that Toby’s “one ending” claim may be tied to the prophecy specifically)

Dead monsters having the capacity to be “revived” in the dark world, even if we can never be sure if it’s really “them”

THE FUCKING SNOWGRAVE CONTINUATION SCENE IN CHAPTER 4

LIKE HOLY SHIT

But that last one’s for another time

… probably.

For now, imma just

Close off my ramblings here before I spend another 2 hours of my day talking about how these two chapters absolutely DESTROYED my brain.

[shadowkoo]

Oh, Baby!

→ Summary: Your brother has finally come around to the fact that you’re in a “serious” relationship with his best friend. However, that doesn’t stop Jungkook from testing his limits…

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 4.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, post-college au, vegas wedding au

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, fucking in a tiny airplane bathroom, fucking in a pool, getting fingered in an elevator, getting caught by your brother a lotttt, teasing, dirty talk, needy!jungkook, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, hangover symptoms, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, exhibitionism

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @studiosev7n @lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @cosyhomenet

→ Author Note: the long-awaited second part to Oh, Brother! I hope you all love it as much as I do! Check out all of the installments of The Oh! Chronicles series here! If you want a teaser/spoiler for part three, you should join my personal discord server (I’ll be sharing a snippet soon!) As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated!

The bathroom door opens suddenly, and a pissed-off-looking Jaemin is standing there. His eyes drift to you sitting on the bathroom sink with your dress hiked up, then to Jungkook, standing in between your open, exposed legs, with his jeans loosened around his waist.

Jaemin’s face flushes crimson, the fury unmistakable as his eyes lock onto the scene unfolding before him. His fists clench at his sides, every muscle in his body tensing with barely contained rage.

Across from him, Jungkook lets out a nervous laugh, the tension crackling in the air around them.

“Oh, brother….”

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓…

Jungkook taps incessantly on your shoulder, not stopping until you switch your attention from the view from the small window to him and take out your airpods.

“God, this flight feels like it’s never going to end. How much longer?” Jungkook whines, shifting in the seat next to you.

“We only have an hour left. Suck it up,” you reply, popping your airpods back in and restarting your music.

He gives you that classic puppy-dog face he always uses when he’s not getting enough of your attention.

You sigh, taking them out again. “What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow when he still says nothing. Before he can answer you, the overhead speaker crackles to life as the flight attendant makes an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into Las Vegas shortly. Please make any final trips to the lavatories before returning to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, raise your tray tables, and ensure your seat backs are in the upright and locked positions.”

You're headed to Vegas for a post–college graduation celebration for Jaemin, Jungkook, and Jaehyun. It was originally supposed to be a guys’ trip until they found out you were coming. Then, suddenly, everyone invited their girlfriends. You didn’t mind, though. Honestly, you only wanted to come because you didn’t trust Jaemin and Jungkook not to get into another fight.

Jungkook had been unbelievably sweet the first time, he took everything from Jaemin without throwing a single punch back. He knew it was against the bro code to date you, sleep with you, or even think about you. You were so off-limits, yet he couldn’t resist you.

Once Jaemin finally cooled off, he and Jungkook talked things out after a month of silence. Since then, things have been smooth for the most part. Just a couple of minor arguments over dumb stuff, like best friends tend to have.

Still, you can’t shake the feeling that this trip has disaster written all over it. That’s why you were so dead-set on coming along. Jungkook caved first; he’s never been good at saying no to you. Jaemin agreed the next day, realizing that if Jungkook was bringing a girl, then he had an excuse to invite Kira, the girl he’s secretly in love with. And not wanting to be the odd one out, Jaehyun decided to invite his not-so-sneaky link along too.

“Will you come to the bathroom with me?” Jungkook asks, already rising from his seat, clearly expecting you to follow without question.

You blink at him. “What for?”

He doesn’t bother answering, and instead throws a look over his shoulder that makes your stomach flip.

With a sigh, you unbuckle and trail after him toward the back of the plane. He stops outside the lavatory and taps the door, eyes then noticing the small green indicator light that reads Vacant.

Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, he quickly opens the door and ushers you inside. He slips in after you, locking the door behind him.

You’re immediately squished together, your back nearly hitting the tiny sink.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, annoyed and slightly breathless. “Both of us can’t fit in here.”

“I need you,” he murmurs, eyes dark and intense.

“Now?” you hiss. “You couldn’t wait until we’re in the luxurious king-sized bed that’s waiting for us?”

He leans in, brushing his lips along your neck. “I always need you,” he breathes. “I always want you. I always crave you.”

He presses hot, desperate kisses into your skin, moaning like he’s been touch-starved for days as your fingers tangle in his hair. His breath stutters against your neck when you tug just a little, pulling him closer.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t you want to join the Mile High Club? Now’s the perfect chance…”

His hands drift lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your sweatpants with maddening slowness.

You roll your eyes, breath hitching. “And what if we get caught? Then we’re joining the No-Fly List instead.”

But before you can talk yourself out of it, his fingers dip between your thighs, and your argument dies in your throat.

Your back hits the mirror as he kisses you hungrily, all lips and tongue. The cramped space is forgotten the second he slips two fingers inside you, teasing you with shallow thrusts and curling them to hit your sweet spot.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, clutching his shirt to pull him closer, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers now circling your clit, taunting you for what’s to come.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe, eyes glazed. You're already too far gone to care about consequences.

That’s all it takes. In one swift movement, he yanks your pants down, followed by his own. Wasting no time, he buries his thick cock deep inside you.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he starts to move, fast and rough, rocking into you over and over. Thank god you’re in the air, where the engines are loud and the small bumps of turbulence cover up any noises coming from the small space you two occupy.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, as he adjusts his hips to a new angle that has you on the verge of coming undone.

Jungkook is mid-thrust when someone starts aggressively knocking on the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

You freeze. He doesn’t.

“Ignore them, baby,” he growls into your ear, voice thick with lust. “I can’t stop now. Not until I come in this sweet little cunt of yours.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he speaks, hips slamming into yours.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you. You’re dripping for me, so tight and so perfect. You hear that?” he grunts as he bottoms out again. “That wet little pussy’s begging for it. You’re such a cock-hungry slut, look at you.”

You moan, vision blurring, every filthy word driving you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you gripping me,” he pants. “You gonna come, baby? You want me to make you come all over my cock?”

You nod frantically, unable to form words. Everything in you is coiled tight, seconds from unraveling.

Your body arches against him as waves of pleasure crash through you, every nerve lit up, every muscle trembling. You clamp around him, moaning his name as your orgasm rips through you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He groans against your neck, fucking you through the aftershocks, his pace stuttering as he loses control.

“Fuck–” he chokes out, hips jerking as he buries himself deep one last time. His release shoots into you in hot, pulsing streaks, his whole body tensing as he moans your name one last time.

When it’s finally over, you gather yourself with a flushed face and shaky hands. Jungkook presses one last kiss to your temple before using some toilet paper to wipe his come that’s leaking out of you. You both try to straighten your clothes in the tiny mirror before unlocking the door to escape.

After opening the door, you’re met by the impatient glare of a teenage girl.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, sliding past her quickly. And then your heart drops.

Standing directly behind her, arms crossed and jaw tight, is your brother.

Jaemin stares at you both for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then he mutters, “God, you two act like newlyweds—fucking everywhere all the time.”

You can practically feel Jungkook smirk beside you. Cheeks burning, you drag him back to your aisle before he says something that would escalate the ordeal.

Turning your head back around once seated, you make eye contact with your brother who’s face looks just as pissed off. Like he’s silently calculating whether joining the mile-high version of Fight Club would be worth the federal charges.

The first few nights in Vegas were a blur of flashing lights and endless drinks. You danced until your feet ached and woke up with memories that felt like a dream. Last night was a well-needed break. The group opted for a low-key evening, which involved a quick dinner, a few drinks by the resort pool, and an early night to recharge.

Today, you’re still taking it easy. Lounging in the private pool that wraps around your suite, a hidden oasis high above the Vegas strip. The sun is warm on your skin, the water cool against your lower half as you lean on the edge and take in the view.

You close your eyes, breathing in the stillness, until the balcony door slides open.

“Where is everyone? All the rooms are empty.” Jungkook asks as he steps out, towel slung around his neck, sweat still clinging to his post-gym glow.

You tilt your head toward him without opening your eyes, resting your head on your arms. “Jaemin and Kira went to brunch earlier. And Jaehyun’s taking Sophia shopping as a way to make up for flirting with the hostess last night.”

He chuckles, stripping out of his gym clothes and easing into the water beside you.

“I told everyone we’d meet in the lobby at 10. DJ Johnny doesn’t go on until 11, so we’ve got plenty of time to get to the club.”

He hums in agreement, arms sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. For a moment, the two of you just float there in silence, the city stretching below and the desert sun catching the water in shimmering flecks.

“You look happy,” he says softly, his eyes scanning your face.

“I am happy,” you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses you lightly at first. It’s sweet and unhurried, like he’s savoring this moment with you. But then it shifts. His lips grow firmer, more insistent. The hand on your waist slides lower, fingers pressing into your hip as his tongue parts your lips. The kiss deepens, turning molten. Your body responds instantly, pressing into him as heat begins to build beneath the surface of your skin.

His mouth trails down your neck as he pushes you gently against the pool’s edge. The water laps around you as his hands roam, exploring you, teasing you beneath the surface. You gasp when his fingers find their way between your thighs, and he smirks against your skin.

“Think you can handle me? I’m fully recharged and overflowing with energy,” you tease with a grin.

“You know the gym doesn’t drain me. If anything, it just pumps me up,” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise as he presses his hard length against you. “Think you can handle me?”

You chuckle, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for another kiss. He pulls the material of your bathing suit bottoms to the side before thrusting into you, the water adding a slow, gliding rhythm to every thrust. The city sparkles behind him, but you can’t take your eyes off his face.

“I love you,” you moan, breathless, pulling his face back to yours for another scorching kiss. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, bodies clinging beneath the water like you’re trying to melt into each other.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Jungkook growls against your mouth.

He grips your waist, lifting you just enough to slip out of you, only to slam back in, hard and deep. The water ripples violently around you as your hips meet with perfect timing repeatedly. You toss your head back with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you come undone. One hand braces behind your back, the other reaches up to tug at the strings tied behind your neck. With a practiced flick, your bikini top slips loose and floats off beside you, forgotten.

His eyes darken as he stares at your bare chest, his mouth instantly descending to taste you. Jungkook leaves hot, wet kisses trailing over sensitive skin as he sucks a nipple between his lips.

You're lost in it, lost in him, until a familiar voice breaks your spell.

“Oh, shit,” Jaemin curses, immediately turning away, hand thrown up to shield his eyes. “What the fuck, you guys? Seriously?!”

You shriek, instinctively trying to cover yourself, but Jungkook barely flinches, holding you firmly against him, knowing that his broad shoulders hide you from your brother’s view.

From inside the suite, Kira peeks out, drawn by Jaemin’s raised voice. Her eyes widen the second she takes in the scene of you straddling Jungkook in the pool, easily able to figure out what you guys are up to.

Moving quickly to Jaemin’s arm with both hands. “Let’s go,” she says brightly, dragging him back toward the suite. “Give them some privacy.”

Jaemin mutters under his breath, still scowling. “Fucking hell. I take it back, you’re worse than newlyweds. At this point, you’re like like fucking horny teenagers.”

He throws a glare over his shoulder. “Jungkook! Don’t make me fuck you up again, bro. I will! Geez!”

“Oh, come on, Jaemin,” Kira laughs, tugging him away before his temper flares. “Don’t be such a cockblock. See you two later!” She shoots you a wink just before disappearing inside, her voice echoing faintly, still teasing Jaemin for his unlucky streak of catching you two.

You make a mental note to buy her a thank-you drink tonight.

But that thought vanishes the second Jungkook thrusts up into you again, dragging you back into the moment. The water splashes around you with every movement, slapping softly against the tiled edges of the pool.

Your head falls back, mouth parted in a silent moan as your body clenches around him again. And this time, there’s no holding back.

You’re not exactly sure how you ended up here.

When you and Jungkook slipped out of the club earlier tonight, ditching your friends in a whirlwind of whispered giggles and stolen touches, you figured it would end in another wild quickie somewhere. And to be fair, it started that way. He had his hands all over you in the back of the taxi, his mouth on your neck as the Strip blurred by.

But then, the car dropped you both off at the far end of Las Vegas Boulevard, where you ran straight into a group of strangers who swore they’d partied with you on your first night in town. Whether they were right or not didn’t really matter; they bought you shots like old friends and kept them coming, one after the other, until the world tilted sideways.

And somehow...you agreed to Jungkook’s crazy idea.

Now you’re standing inside a chapel bathed in neon pink light, next to a man in a bedazzled Elvis costume who smells faintly of old cologne and too much hairspray. Jungkook is holding both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and solid around yours. His grin is so wide it practically splits his face in half, his eyes crinkling with drunken joy as he watches the impersonator read the vows.

“Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Elvis says in a dramatic drawl.

“I do,” Jungkook replies without hesitation, his voice thick with emotion, and maybe tequila. “With my whole heart.”

He slips a thin silver ring onto your finger. One he bought just minutes ago from a display stand outside. It’s slightly too big and also a little tacky, but somehow perfect.

Now it’s your turn. You blink up at him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.

“I do,” you say softly, biting back a giddy laugh. “With my whole heart.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declares with flair, throwing out his arms. “You may kiss!”

Jungkook’s hands envelop your face as he kisses you, sealing your fate.

The handful of drunk couples that are waiting for their turn cheer loudly as Jungkook lifts you straight off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing as he carries you bridal-style down the narrow aisle and out of the chapel, laughing the whole way.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say breathlessly, still laughing as you cup his jaw and guide him into another messy kiss.

“I can’t either,” he says against your lips, eyes shining. “But god, I’m so ridiculously happy right now.”

He sets you down and pulls you close, forehead pressed to yours.

“Mrs. Jeon Jungkook, you make me so fucking happy. I love you, baby. So much.”

You can’t stop smiling and neither can he.

The next morning, your head feels like it’s still spinning. The light bleeding through the hotel curtains is too bright, stabbing straight into your skull. You groan and crack an eye open, trying to piece together where you are, and more importantly, what the hell happened last night.

Bits and pieces flash into your memory.

The pounding bass of the DJ set. Clinking shot glasses. Jungkook’s laughter against your ear, both of you cracking up about something that felt hilarious at the time. Though now you can’t recall a single detail.

You shift beneath the sheets, rubbing your eyes, when something cool and metallic catches your attention.

You pause, blinking.

There’s a ring on your finger.

A ring.

You yank your hand back and jump upright, heart now thudding in your chest like it’s trying to break free. In your sudden panic, your elbow smacks straight into Jungkook’s face.

“Ow! What the–” he groans, rolling onto his side. “Babe, what was that for?”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, scrambling out of bed.

Still half-drunk, half-hungover, and fully spiraling, you make a beeline for the bathroom and immediately hurl the remnants of last night into the toilet.

Your knees hit the cold tile as you clutch the porcelain bowl, your mind spinning even faster than your stomach.

Jungkook is at your side a moment later. Sleepy, shirtless, and concerned, he crouches beside you without saying a word, gently pulling your hair back and rubbing slow, soothing circles across your spine.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Once you’re fairly certain your insides are empty, you lean back on your heels, wiping your mouth with a towel and groaning.

“I feel like death,” you mumble.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook says with a lazy smile, though his eyes are scanning your face carefully. Searching. Bracing.

He stands, reaching into the shower to turn on the water. Steam starts to fill the bathroom as he undresses and steps inside, then turns to hold out his hand for you.

You hesitate.

Your eyes drop to the ring on your finger again, then flick back to his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. You can tell he’s watching you closely, reading every micro-expression, seeing if you have any doubt. There’s no trace of regret in his eyes, but there’s a quiet question behind them.

What are you feeling? And are we okay?

You reach for his hand and step in beside him.

You wash up quickly, letting the hot water rinse away the hangover haze clinging to your skin. Feeling clean doesn’t solve everything, but it helps ground you.

After drying off and throwing on fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of the bed and breathe for a moment. Jungkook's quiet, giving you space, but you can still feel his eyes on you.

Then, finally, he breaks the silence.

“C’mon,” he says gently. “Let’s get some breakfast and cure your hangover before you spiral again. I got a text from Jaemin, they’re waiting for us in the lobby if we want to join everyone for brunch.”

You nod, grabbing your phone and purse before the two of you leave the suite and step into the elevator. Oh god…how are you going to tell everyone…

Jungkook speaks again once the elevator doors close. “Well, last night happened.”

You exhale, almost laughing. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

You start picking at your fingernails, nerves creeping in again as the elevator begins its descent. Jungkook notices instantly.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hands in his. “Don’t do that. Don’t second-guess this. I’m happy. Let’s be happy.”

You look up at him. He gives you that soft smile, the one that always manages to settle your heart.

He pulls you into a hug, wrapping you up like he’s trying to shield you from the chaos of the outside world.

“It’s not how I imagined it, not even close,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But you know what? I love that I get to call you my wife now. I like that I’m your husband.”

He leans back just enough to nuzzle into your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a quiet, reassuring gesture.

And for a moment, your worries melt away. Because if nothing else, you’ve got him. And maybe that’s more than enough.

His hand squeezes your waist as the elevator descends, and you feel his fingers trailing lower, skimming the hem of your skirt with intent.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, glancing toward the mirrored walls, but he’s already moving, slipping his hand beneath the fabric like he owns you, because, well, after last night…he kind of does. And you kind of like that.

His fingers find your heat instantly, and your breath catches in your throat.

“So wet already,” he hums against your ear, voice low and dangerous. “You want to get caught, don’t you?”

You press your back against the elevator wall, heart hammering as his thumb begins to circle your clit.

It feels so good that you can barely stand. The pressure is building fast, your thighs trembling as he slides two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he curls them just right.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Look at yourself. Watch how fucking wrecked you look when I touch you.”

Your gaze finds the mirrored wall. You see your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the dark hunger in Jungkook’s eyes as he watches you unravel.

He moves faster, fucking you with his fingers, thumb pressed tight to your clit.

“Scream my name, baby. Who makes you feel this good? Who makes you come uncontrollably?”

“Jungkook!” you cry out before you can think.

He sinks his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp.

“Wrong,” he growls. “Try again.”

“M–my husband,” you stammer, on the verge of falling apart. “My husband makes me come uncontrollably.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, voice thick with pride and lust. “That’s fucking right, wife. Now come all over these fingers. You’ve earned it.”

And you do, trembling, legs barely holding you up, biting down a scream as wave after wave crashes over you.

As the elevator nears the lobby, he slowly pulls his hand from between your thighs, sucking one of his fingers into his mouth like he’s tasting the best thing he's ever had before returning it for more.

“Wow,” you pant, trying to catch your breath. “Being married already has its perks.”

He smirks, using his other hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Baby, we haven’t even started collecting the benefits.”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the lobby, and the doors slide open with an almost theatrical slowness, just in time to reveal a very pissed-off-looking Jaemin standing directly in front of you.

Judging by the way his jaw is clenched and the murderous glare aimed at the two of you, he definitely heard the tail end of that little scene. Probably more.

“You’re married?!” Jaemin’s voice echoes through the lobby, loud enough to turn heads. A few bystanders pause mid-step, curious and mildly entertained by the drama unfolding in front of the elevators.

Thankfully, he hasn’t seemed to notice Jungkook’s hand still slick from where it was between your thighs before he reluctantly slips it away.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, letting out a sheepish laugh. “Well, the honeymoon’s off to a strong start. Guess your newlyweds joke actually fits now…”

Jaemin takes a slow, threatening step forward and Jungkook tenses beside you, instinctively bracing for whatever’s coming next, whether it’s a punch, a lecture, or both. But when his eyes flick back to yours, and he sees the worry written all over your face, his shoulders square a little more.

Whatever’s coming, he knows it’s all worth it.

“Oh, baby…”

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

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[syscest]

Hey uh, not sure if there's anything to elaborate on wrt the "wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural" post, but is that true? Because I've been avoiding that possibility, if only because I've been so sure that it isn't a possibility. I don't really know what I'm saying here it's just, could that post really be true?

So we thought we were the only ones selling this kind of perspective to people, but recently pluralrespect on neocities (which we already liked re: intrasys relationships) started including something similar, but with more structure.

It breaks down like this: Singlets choose to interpret their personal experiences as being one person. It gets privileged as the default because that's how we're socialised, but a (usually unconscious) choice is being made to view all their experiences - including kinda plural-coded stuff like code switching, masking, genderfluidity, weird dreams, varying vibes day-on-day, internal conflict, etc - as representing a singular identity.

There are also a lot of people who's experiences can't realistically be interpreted singletwise - folks that experience switches with totally separate memory is an extreme example. The plural explanation is the only thing that makes any sense of it at all.

This creates this big grey area that encompasses all those interpreted-singlets with kinda-plural experiences, and those interpreted-plurals who could reasonably interpret themselves as singlets (again) if they wanted to. Within this grey area, you have the wiggle room to observe your personal experiences, and conceptualise your identity one way, or the other way.

One of those ways might feel more "right" to you, more sensical, more comfortable, safer - so in that sense, yeah. wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural. Fantasising about what it would be like to understand yourself in the other way is probably a sign that you should try it - see how thinking of yourself that way feels, just for a day or whatever. If it's too weird, go back. If not, keep going.

Now, letting yourself have an open mind may invite experiences that make a singlet interpretation less sensible - so only test the waters if both possible conclusions are safe for you to have. Outside of that, you can always change your mind - so, give it a shot.

[vigilantekisser]

voicemail, vase, vigilante

matt murdock x reader

a/n: i wrote this to procrastinate writing another fic im so sorry dex and finished SO QUICK so here it is : ]

summary: you drunkenly confess your feelings to your boss over the phone, so naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail. easy enough, except there's someone else climbing in through the window, too. (ao3 mirror)

tags: crack, fluff?, lot of swearing, breaking and entering, black suit matt

You shouldn’t be drinking in the office. You know this, it’s against every code of conduct. But fortunately for you, Nelson & Murdock is so piss-poor from all the pro-bono cases that no one can afford to even think about an HR department. So here you are: in Matt Murdock’s pristine little corner, swinging around on his chair at 11:30 PM, on your fifth—no, sixth —leisurely pour of whiskey from the office stash.

“You have to stop leaving this in your desk,” you grumble at his nameplate. “Enabling my workplace mistakes…”

Not that he’s here to argue. You don’t even remember why you’re here. Blah, blah, finishing filing motions? Or pretending to file motions while fantasizing about your hot, way-too-intimidating boss?

Ugh. There it is again. Matt. Your Problem with a capital P. It’s one thing to have a silly little crush; it’s another thing to fall violently in love with a man who calls you “Miss” and listens so carefully when you’re talking about mundane stuff, like your cat’s urinary crystals. Well, he doesn’t have a choice there really, but he’s listening so intently all the same. He told you that, didn’t he? I like listening to the sound of your voice. A smooth fucking line that, undoubtedly, he must use on all the women in his life. 

You’re doomed, like, comically, biblically doomed.

The whiskey is full of suggestions now, so the next thing you know you’re accidentally (accidentally is debatable) pressing and holding his name in your contacts and recording a voicemail with all the restraint and self-control you can muster, which is none.

“Hey, big boss. You like listening to my voice so much, here’s something to listen to. I love you, Matt. I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary but I really, really—hic—love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your... suits ? God, what’s wrong with me? And– and you know that fur on your throat when you haven’t shaved for a while, I kinda want to pet it. Do you think you and my cat would get along? Anyway—hic—okay, bye forever.”

And then you hang up.

“Fuck,” you say, very calmly. Then, “FUCK.”

Panic hits you like a semi-truck. You’re staring at your phone in horror, and you almost throw it against the wall but catch yourself last minute because you realize it’s not even your phone or even your dignity that’s on the line. It’s your paycheck. It’s also still open to Matt’s contact.

“Okay, okay. We can fix this,” you whisper, although your vision’s spinning. You remember—he left early today. Said something vague about not feeling well and forgetting his phone. Which means…

He’s probably asleep. And with luck, he hasn’t heard the voicemail yet.

You stand. The room swims dramatically, but what matters is you know where he keeps his spare key; of course you do. Yes, you occasionally handle his dry cleaning, and you’re the one who suggested switching the key’s hiding spot from his horrible taped-under-drawer idea to the fire extinguisher near the breakroom. 

So naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail.

You tell yourself you’re doing this for professional reasons. It’s about dignity. It’s about damage control.

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’re telling yourself as you find your way out, out of the office then running, less drunk now and more fucking scared, turning streets and streets then stopping, then you’re fumbling with Matt’s building’s security buzzer, then you’re climbing up the stairs and panting, then you’re at his door, then– then– you’re inside.

It’s dark, of course. And tidy and fucking large. There’s a very real chance he’s sleeping out here somewhere, but the bedroom’s to the end of the hall and thankfully, the sliding door’s closed. You try to kick off your shoes so you don’t clomp around like a horse, but your coordination is shot, so you just stub your toe on something—a credenza?—and hiss, “Fuck you,” at it before stumbling toward the kitchen.

“Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail…”

Phone. Where the hell is his phone?

You spot it near the couch—charging, mercifully unlocked. Ha! The tequila gods are shining upon you! You yank it off the cord and open the voicemail app, hands sweating like you’re hacking into the Pentagon.

Except the voicemail won’t play.

It’s lagging. Loading. Spinning.

You jab at the screen repeatedly. “Come on, you little shit.”

You’re crouched like a rat by this thing, hitting buttons and praying for divine intervention when—

CLUNK. A thud. Metal on glass.

You whip your head toward the fire escape window.

It’s opening.

Before your brain can even string together the words oh my god someone is breaking in, it’s already happening. A figure in black, broad-shouldered and limping, swings one leg over the sill like he’s done it a thousand times—like this apartment is his.

“HEY!”

The man doesn’t stop. He’s moving slow, steady, his shoulders heaving. He’s wearing black from head to toe, including a black mask that hides his face. You grab the nearest object (a ceramic vase, very tasteful Matt, sorry it has to go now) and wield it with both hands like a bat.

“The guy who lives here is BLIND, asshole!” you scream, advancing on him with righteous fury. “You trying to rob a blind man? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The man in black holds up a hand. He’s wobbling. His voice is low, hoarse. “No—I’m—don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what?” you snarl, vase now fully raised like a cartoon caveman. “Don’t beat the absolute shit out of you? 'Cause I’m not feeling real merciful tonight, asshole.”

He staggers and braces a gloved hand against the desk. Breathing heavily.

You’re panting too and all sweaty now, and you feel like you have to shit. No really, your stomach is turning sour and it’s probably all the whiskey, and you need to shit NOW, but here you are, possibly about to commit homicide.

But then it clicks.

Your eyes sweep his figure: The black shirt. Heavy-looking pants, boots and gloves. The mask.

You’ve seen him before.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, still stumbling forward, an open hand shot up in front of him as if in surrender.

“You’re that guy in the paper! The one who beats guys up in Hell’s Kitchen. You threw a car tire at that guy on Tenth, I was fucking there!”

Still no answer. He exhales, more like a groan now and you realize there’s blood. It’s from his shoulder, seeping through the suit. You swallow, trying to steel your nerves, but your stomach’s in waves again and your grip on the vase is kind of loosening because fuck, you do not want to be a sequel to Car Tire Guy. But then you think of Matt—oh God, what if you hadn’t been here—and decide that yes, he may never love you back and still yes, yes, you’d die before if you’d let anything happen to him.

“I don’t care if you’re Daredevil or Dork Knight or whatever the fuck,” you bark. “What the hell are you doing in my boss’s apartment?!”

He mumbles something. You don't catch it. “Get the fuck out or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Wait—don’t—don’t hit me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. You frown. Something’s familiar. And then he’s slumping like a puppet with its string cut. He drops one knee to the floor, gripping the edge of the desk harder to stay upright, and you freeze.

“Okay—calm down, calm down, I’m—”

He’s trying to raise his hands. You raise the vase higher, bracing.

He’s peeling off the mask. He’s—

“Matt?!”

What. The. FUCK.

Thirty percent of your bloodstream right now is Jameson, but it’s the first time you’ve known hallucinations to be a symptom of it. Because in front of you is Matt Murdock. Bleeding. In front of his secretary who is very drunk and holding a ceramic vase, and he’s also apparently Daredevil.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Why are you dressed like that??”

“It’s my apartment!” he shouts back, and honestly that’s fair. Matt in his own living room, at least that part’s right. “What are you doing here?!”

“I—uh—I was—” you sputter. “I left you a voicemail—” You drop the vase, and it lands with a thud at your feet. Huh, maybe it was plastic after all. You stomp over to him, clasping a hand under his armpit and dragging him to the couch. He’s heavy and hurt, so he’s groaning all throughout, and when he’s situated, you start pacing around loudly and drunkenly, your mind still reeling. “Never mind. Let’s just say I could potentially get fired for something I accidentally sent to you, but that’s not what matters now. You’re Daredevil?! Does Foggy even know?”

He tilts his head back with a groan, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple, and says, weakly, “Please stop yelling. My head isn’t doing great right now.”

“Sorry. But what do you even expect, Matt?! You’re a vigilante who just came in through a window! Are you even really blind?? Or was all that bumping into shit excuse just bullshit, too?” You slap a hand to your forehead. “Wait—no, you know what? Don’t answer that, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not your wife. I’m just the girl who orders your stationery, ha-ha. Good for me. Fuck!”

“Not just…” he mumbles, incoherent.

“What?”

But then his phone, having apparently built dramatic tension in solidarity, finally decides to play. You whip around just in time to hear your own voice, slurry and tragic, absolutely damning. 

…something to listen to. I love you, Matt…

No. No no no. (Is that what your voice sounds like?)

You scramble for the phone but you’re pretty sure it’s under Matt’s body, which makes no sense because it’s still so goddamn loud, but then maybe he needs it for accessibility. So maybe he really is blind after all. You slap a hand to your mouth and shoot a glance back at him—he hasn’t moved, sitting all pretty on his loudass phone, mask still in his lap, eyes fluttering closed.

…I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary…

That emergency window where he entered from! Maybe you can still make the jump.

…but I really, really love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your… suits?

You clutch the side of your head and hiss through your teeth. “Why would I mention the suits—”

Matt makes a sound—a sordid chuckle at your expense—but it’s cut short as he slouches even further, and his head dips.

“Matt?” you say, all the heat in your chest suddenly plummeting to ice. “Matt.”

You lurch toward him on instinct, catching his shoulders as he lists to one side.

“Hey. Hey. No dying in front of me, okay? I already embarrassed myself once tonight.”

He breathes out against your arm, unsteady. Is this really how he’s gonna go?! Are you that repulsive for him to want to die after you’ve confessed your undying love for him?!

“Okay,” you whisper, bracing him. “Okay, alright. We need… I need to think. You’re Daredevil. You’re bleeding. I broke into your apartment— you broke into your apartment. I don’t even know whose crime this is anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, slumping heavier into you.

Oh my God, he’s going to die and it’s going to look like you murdered him. You’re going to end up on Dateline. You can see the headline: obsessive secretary confesses her unrequited love and beats her boss to death after getting rejected.

You stare into the middle distance. “I need another drink.”

Matt groans, barely conscious. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t drink?”

“Don’t…” He swallows thickly. “…break into anyone else’s apartment tonight… sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You burst into laughter. You want to cry at the ridiculousness of everything. There’s blood on your sleeves and on his cheek. And his stupid hair is all tousled and tragic and soft-looking, and he’s got the nerve to call you “sweetheart” in the middle of all this. 

“What am I going to do, Matt?”

“Medkit,” he croaks out, lifting a shaky finger. “Bathroom.”

You blink. Okay. You need to get it together. Matt is not going to die tonight, not on your watch. But fuck, if you didn’t need that drink.

[crimsonbubble]

Blue Screen

cw. nsfw, kinda cyberpunk au (I have no idea what I’m writing so pls bear with me), afab android!reader (could be a humanoid or smth idrk), android technician!seonghwa, praise, overstimulation, fingering, nipple play, squirting, blue screen of death *not proofread, just pure horny

[I literally have no idea where this idea came from bro]

“Hwaaa, are we done yet?” You whined as he hovered over you on the metal ‘inspection’ table as he called it. You hear him chuckle softly from behind you, patting your ass lightly as a means to reassure you that he’d be done soon. “Not yet, sparks. Just gotta make sure everything is in its place.”

You pout as you lay on the table before suddenly jolting against the table. A jagged moan left your lips as Seonghwa prodded within your circuits. “Guess the touch receptors are a little sensitive today.” You could almost hear the amusing smile on his face.

You whined softly as Seonghwa started to put your covering back on. His hands lingered on your back even after putting your backcasing back on. “Now, my pretty little android, how shall I play with you today?” Your face flushed, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he trailed his fingers over your spine.

He sat you up on the table, raising it to hip height, his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. “Turn my sensitivity up,” You stated with a voice that Seonghwa had never heard, sickeningly sweet with a hint of desperation. “All the way.” His eyes widened, memories of the last time he cranked your sensitivity up that high, he made you blue screen halfway through.

You could sense his hesitation, leaning back on your hands as you turned your head to the side, exposing the barcode laid across your neck. Seonghwa sighed, knowing there was no way he could talk you out of something that you both wanted. Seonghwa pulled his glasses down from where they rested on his head, scanning the code and fiddling with the settings for a minute.

You didn’t much different, thinking that Seonghwa was just putting on a show of changing your settings to appease you. That was until Seonghwa cupped your pussy through your jeans, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. You lurched forward, grabbing at his forearm. His eyes are dark and piercing, working up an orgasm for you a little too quickly for you to comprehend.

Your mouth dropped open with a harsh moan, your pussy throbbing against his hand. “Lift your hips for me, lovebot.” You did as he asked, nearly moaning as he peeled your panties off of you. “Such a mess, sparks, look at you.” He parts your folds lewdly, sliding two fingers into you. He pumps them steadily, watching your eyes go unfocused and flutter.

You whine pathetically as Seonghwa fucks you with his fingers. Another orgasm is suddenly ripped from you, making your hips jolt as you lean back on the table on your elbows. Seonghwa keeps his pace, curling his fingers into your sweet spot with precision. He rubs your clit with his thumb, a dark smirk curling onto his lips as you come undone again.

Seonghwa palmed himself over his jeans, groaning as he felt more precum leak out of him. Using his free hand he managed to push his jeans down enough to let his cock spring free. He pulls his fingers out of you, tracing them over your clit in quick movements. Your back arched off the table, your pussy pulsing as another orgasm rakes over you. 

Seonghwa switched his hands, wrapping the one coated in your arousal around his aching cock. He let out a low moan, his eyes glued to the your slicked pussy. There’s a growing puddle of your arousal pooling on the table. Seonghwa curses under his breath, slipping his cock between your folds. He sinks in nice and easy, splitting you open on his cock.

“Fuck- you’re so fucking warm, lovebot.” Seonghwa grabs your thighs from under you, his pace turns near bruising as he stuffs you full. His cock is thick and heavy inside your velvety walls, wrapping around him like a vice. He splits you open on his cock repeatedly, moaning at the way your body convulses and your pussy gushes around him even harder as he abuses your sweet spot.

“C’mon pretty girl, make another mess for me.” His words make you clench around his tighter, your back arching off the table as you cum again. He can hear you mumbling so he leans down to trail kisses over your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, pulling the nub gently with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. Your hands desperately clutch at his shoulders, babbling nonsense as your body starts to overheat.

Seonghwa peeks up at you through his lashes, nearly blowing his load then and there when he notices the cute pink hearts that now replaced your pupils. He watches the way the hearts pulse and grow bigger when he lands a particularly hard thrust against your sweet spot. He can hear the gears in your body overclocking. He brings a hand between your bodies to rub two fingers over your clit; an attempt to make you come one last time before he fucked his load into you and your inevitable blue screening.

“Just one more, lovebot. Make a pretty mess on me, sparks.” Seonghwa's thrusts are losing their rhythm as his release creeps up on him. Your body pulls taut, the hearts in your eyes growing impossibly bigger as you come undone again, your sticky cunt tightening around his cock as more and more arousal squirted out of you. Seonghwa buried himself to the hilt, seemingly endless spurts of cum coated your walls. He could feel the way you went limp against the table, peeking at you and huffing out a laugh at the blue screening codes flashing past your pupils.

It took a few minutes but Seonghwa managed to clean up swiftly and reboot your systems. You slowly blinked away the bleariness, growing flustered as you watched Seonghwa bring your sensitivity levels down to a reasonable level. “Knew you’d bluescreen again.”

[obvithe-bestsoph]

heyyyyy could you write something about cuba? His sisters and reader pranking him (and maybe their parents as well) idk if you remember this trend where the sister is rude to the gf to see the brothers/ bfs reaction. (this description is horrendous😭)

there is a link to a tiktok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdhRUp55/

traitors!

masterlist requests word count: 1k

a/n: protective pau is so 😋😋 genre: fluff. summary: you team up with pau's older sister, irene, to prank him. warnings: none.

You’re not a prankster. Not usually, anyway. But when Irene pulls up a TikTok and says, “We have to try this on Pau,” her grin widens. That mischievous older-sister energy is too strong to ignore, and honestly? You’re a little curious too.

You’re going to do the ‘rude sister’ trend. The one where the sister acts super rude to her brother’s girlfriend just to see how the brother reacts. The whole thing sounds ridiculous, but Irene swears Pau will either go full big-brother protective or flop so hard it’s embarrassing. And either way, it’s going to be hilarious.

“You in?” she asks, holding out a pinky.

You hesitate for a split second. “I swear, if he gets mad at me-”

“He won’t. I’ll be evil. You’ll be sweet. We’ll tell him after like, ten seconds.” She grins. “Unless he fails. Then we let him spiral a bit.”

It’s official. You're about to bully your boyfriend, all in the name of fun. Love is strange.

That afternoon, the Cubarsí house is buzzing. Pau’s just gotten back from training, hair damp and curls messy, wearing an oversized hoodie and hugging a bowl of strawberries in his lap. His parents are setting the table for lunch in the next room, and he looks too relaxed for what’s coming.

You shoot Irene a look.

She nods.

You step into the living room with a casual, “Hey, Irene, do you mind if I borrow your charger later?”

Irene flips the switch flawlessly. “Maybe get your own?”

You blink, surprised even though you’re in on the plan. “I- I left mine at home.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a you problem.” She says it flatly, looking you up and down like you’re a mildly unpleasant bug on her wall. “Not everyone’s here to babysit.”

Pau’s head lifts slowly from the snack bowl.

You glance at him, pretending to shrink. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother…”

“You didn’t mean to, but here we are.” Irene leans back on the couch dramatically, flipping her hair like she’s in a daytime soap on TV. “Some of us were trying to enjoy peace.”

Pau blinks twice. His whole brain does a buffering circle. He looks at you, then at Irene, then back at you.

“…Wait. What?”

“I just asked for a charger,” you say softly.

“She has a million,” Irene cuts in. “She’s needy.”

Needy?

Pau straightens like someone just poured cold water down the back of his shirt. “Irene, what are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying,” she says, arms crossed. “She’s always here. Using my stuff. In our living room. It's weird.”

You try not to laugh. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it might bruise. Pau looks absolutely horrified.

He stands up fast, almost knocking his bowl off the couch. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Irene raises a brow. “I’m being honest. Maybe she’s not the one.”

Oh. Oh. He’s steaming now.

“Okay, that’s it.” He points a very dramatic finger at Irene. “Apologize.”

Irene shrugs. “For what?”

“For being rude, irrational, and totally unfair.” Pau takes a step toward you and puts an arm around your shoulders. “She’s my girlfriend. You don’t talk to her like that.”

You peek up at him. “It’s okay…”

“No it’s not,” he says, voice rising. “You’re the sweetest person alive, and you never take anything from anyone. You barely let me open doors for you.”

“That’s true,” you admit. “I’m aggressively independent.”

He softens a little, but then spins back to Irene. “Why are you acting like this? Did something happen?”

Irene opens her mouth.

“Wait,” Pau says, stepping back like he just cracked the code. “Did mamá say something?”

“What?” Irene frowns.

“About her staying too much? Or papá? You’re always trying to protect me from family drama.”

“No-” she starts.

“Because if they did, I’ll talk to them. Seriously. They love her. Everyone loves her. Irene, what are you doing?”

She starts laughing. Hard.

Pau narrows his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

You break too. The tension, the act, everything crumbles as you double over with giggles. Pau’s still trying to solve the mystery while the two of you absolutely lose it.

“It’s a prank,” Irene giggles. “It’s a TikTok trend. I was being fake rude to see how you’d react.”

You nod, barely able to breathe. “You passed with flying colors, by the way.”

His face. The betrayal.

“You guys are the worst,” he mutters, plopping back down on the couch and covering his face with a pillow. “I was about to write a whole speech.”

Irene high-fives you.

“I was gonna fight *Mum*,” he says dramatically from under the pillow. “Like, actually confront her. About the love of my life being ‘clingy.’ I was about to go full telenovela.”

You pull the pillow away so you can see his face. “Love of your life?”

He blinks. “Okay, don’t use it against me.”

You grin. “Too late.”

There’s footsteps from the dining room, and suddenly Señor. Cubarsí pops his head in. “¿Qué pasa? We heard yelling.”

Pau groans. “They were pranking me. It was fake.”

Irene calls sweetly, “You want in next time, papá?” 

He tilts his head, thinks about it for a beat, then nods once. “Absolutely.”

Pau looks like his whole world is collapsing. “I’m surrounded by traitors.”

“You’re surrounded by hilarious women,” you tease, poking his cheek. “You did good, though. Protective and dramatic. Honestly? Ten out of ten boyfriend behavior.”

He glares. “I’ll get you both back.”

“Oh, I’m shaking.”

“You should be.”

You and Irene laugh, already tossing around ideas for the next prank. But for now, Pau’s hand finds yours, and despite the chaos, he squeezes it gently.

“You know I’d always take your side, right?”

“I know,” you say. “That’s why we picked you.”

And even though he pretends to sulk for the next half hour, the proud little smile he hides behind his snack bowl says it all.

He loves you. He’d fight his entire family for you. And he’s absolutely plotting revenge.

You're not scared. Well, maybe a little.

[mosswiind]

RANKING THE VEILGUARD COMPANIONS AS SPICY PARTNERS

This is definitively correct and I will not be accepting feedback.

In seventh and last place, we have our sweet boy Lucanis.

He's so into you. Spite is at least the same amount of into you. Lucanis though, is wildly inexperienced. Dude blacked out seeing Rook of any gender without a top on. A single titty would put this man in the hospital.

As a person who has slept with a lot of people, enthusiasm does not always compensate for skill. Lucanis would be very sweet, and apologizing because this has literally never happened to him before.

In sixth, we have Bellara.

Bellara is wonderful! But, similar to Lucanis, she's pretty inexperienced, and not in a position to acquire more experience without Rook’s involvement. She did date Irelin, but Irelin also doesn't give "exciting spicy partner" vibes. I feel like she would be enthusiastic about figuring out what you both like! It would just take some time to get there. She would also be very open to using magical aids. Electrical magic? Hell yeah.

She's also absolutely a bottom and if that's a consideration for you, she would be very good at it.

In fifth, we have Harding.

Harding is one long conversation away from being down for some Actual Freak Shit. She's already down, she just doesn't know what to ask for.

HOWEVER. Harding has precisely zero game, so it may feel a little silly while y'all figure your stuff out.

It will be good, it will also be clumsy and sweet.

In fourth, Taash.

Taash is similar to Harding, but has more sexual experience. They are also a confirmed top. Those are rare! They are coded to feel like they're in their early twenties, and extremely athletic, so stamina would not at any point be an issue. I've seen some comments that their bluntness would be bad for dirty talk/having game - those people didn't have to take a minute to do some deep breathing after the Taamlok scene, and also do not have taste. Taash will break you in half in a good way. Taash is a capital T Top and honestly, I respect it.

In third, Davrin.

Davrin, in a different group, would be the top pick. He's cocky, confident, has game for days. He's not a snack, he's a meal, and he is very aware of that. In my experience, banging Extremely Hot Dudes can go one of two ways; it's either sex you will wake up thinking about ten years later, or it will be like, extremely mid. I have faith in his ability. He is also a top, but I feel like he would also be into another top so there's a Fight (America's Next Top Model theme plays).

Thrill of the chase, indeed.

In second, Emmrich.

I know Emmrich is a canonical sex god. I know a bunch of y'all are extremely horny for Dr. Hose Goat. He caught me on the back foot a couple of times.

I also understand that this is a community that is very into Hot Authority Figures Who Remind You To Drink Water. There's a top shortage. I know what you people are like. I get it.

In first, it's the internet's wife, Neve Gallus.

Neve reads people for a living. She's also hot, emotionally unavailable, and would rather make out than acknowledge she has Actual Human Feelings. She's so locked into everything going on around her that she knows what you want before you do.

She's also creative at problem solving - no good surface? No problem. Just...not her desk, probably. There's a lot of notes to get displaced, and she has a hard enough time with the wisps. She will not allow your dumb ass to be too horny for organization.

Also - frost magic for you sensory seekers, and the ability to slow down time. I feel like we're all on the same page about the possibilities.

Your brain will melt out of your ears. You will not be able to stand. For days, potentially.

She's also a switch, depending on the vibes presented.

Emotionally unavailable romantics will ruin your life.

[thydungeongal]

As someone who creates 5e adjacent content I have a dark secret I must confess...

I love dice-pool games.

The only reason I don't create a dice-pool game is that there's so few levers to pull for dice-pool manipulations that make any kind of meaningful distinction in the resolution mechanic to generate a mechanical-to-narrative sensation of character differentiation.

The day I solve that problem as it percolates in the back of my mind is the day we get a new dice-pool game system.

There's a few interesting tricks I've run into in dice pool systems:

Dice pool systems usually start by taking some features of a character, usually something like an ability/attribute and something like a skill, but it could be anything, and combining those into a dice pool. Now, most games don't actually do more in this step than just counting the final total of dice. But there's one axis of information that is rarely used: the type of dice.

For an example, in a hypothetical Attribute+Skill system, assume that a character assembled their dice pool from Strength (an attribute) and Athletics (a skill) and the rolled dice were color-coded depending on their source.

Now, if you want some proper oWoD jank in your game you can make it so that dice that come from attributes have a higher threshold of success than dice that come from skills, representing the importance of training over raw strength. You've now addressed the "untrained skill" penalty that is often tackled via penalties to dice pools. However: this does result in extra friction. One of the benefits of having a static threshold of success is that you can quickly eyeball how many successes you have.

Which leads to the next question: why limit the dice in your dice pool to a single type of die? Staying with the above example, let's assume that the success threshold is a 5 or above, and the average die in the pool is a d6. Now you can introduce d8s as a type of die that represents. Something. Incidentally, the switch from a d6 to a d8 in a system where the threshold of success is a 5 results in a similar change of probabilities as keeping the dice d6 but changing the threshold of success to 4.

Anyway, there's other types of neat tricks you can do. nWoD has "10 again" which means that dice that come up a 10 count as successes and are rolled again, with some abilities allowing for "9 again" or even "8 again" on specific tests, or if they represent a hindrance or penalty on the character they may even counteract "10 again" in specific circumstances.

And I'm sure there's a bunch of other stuff that can be done with dice pools. Heck, I've seen games that use dice pools of Fate dice, where results of + are used to add benefits or bonuses to the action from a pick-list while results of - are used to cancel penalties or misfortunes (which are all assumed to happen by default!). So there's a lot of information you can get out of dice pools, you just need to keep looking for it!