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sansxfuckyou · 6 months

Text

maybe it's just me (built to snap eventually)

Summary: Technoblade and Dream have a rivalry, and the both of them are sure it's as simple as that, a rivalry- definitely not something that'll lead to an all consuming culmination of hatred and obsession, it couldn't be

Warnings: heavy gore, graphic & poetic character death, awkward conversations, the rivalsduo is meant to be read as a possessive/obsessive thing instead of a romantic thing, injury recovery, swearing, not actually character death, funerals, please read with caution

Authors Note: you know, this was originally an SBI-centric fic in my head, but then I had a lot of fun with the rivalsduo dynamic, so here we are now. I don't even know how we got here, but the end product is really fun. rip awesamdude. @sobredunia i subjected you to some of my mad ramblings, heres the full thing, i'm too tired for the ending to be perfectly formulated. hope ya'll enjoy, and if you do consider dropping a reblog, ao3 port comes out hopefully tomorrow

"Look, Techno," Phil began with as he glanced at his second son. His beloved son, who he cared for dearly despite his rather odd choice of form, "We need to have a talk."

The Piglin hesitantly made eye contact, "Yeah dad?"

"You have the most non-human blood of all my sons, given the fact you can shape-shift. I still don't get why you want to be a pig, but you do you. Really though, a pig?" Phil rambled.

"Dad. The point," Techno said rather sternly.

"Right, yeah, this conversations topic," Phil said cautiously.

"Is this about sex? I know about sex," Techno blurted out before he could stop himself from making an assumption.

"Fuck no, definitely not," He answered with, his wings gave a fluff of discomfort. He cleared his throat, "But, as you may know, immortals grow attached to mortals. Usually picking a specific one without realizing it in the moment, and sometimes we take it upon ourselves to protect them until they die of natural causes."

"That explains Wilbur's obsession with Sapnap," Techno mused with an eye roll.

Phil gives a hum, "No, he just really wants to fuck Sapnap- it's Tommy's situation with Tubbo though."

"Ah," Techno said, a wave of understanding washed over him, "I don't have one of those."

"You do," Phil answered with, "It's not always friendship, or romance, sometimes it's hatred. Immortals grow deeply attached to a mortal to the point of obsession, brutalization even, to make sure we can take care of them or take advantage of them. It's like," He paused, "It's like our tether to mortality, we live mortal lives through their existence. Even if their mortal lives put them so close to death everyday; even if the mortal lives they lead are ones we hate them for; we grow obsessed and can't help it."

"An example," Techno demanded.

"Well," Phil said, "I don't have one of the aggressive type off the top of my head, but I'd say it's similar to your predicament with Dream, no?"

Deep red flared on Techno's face at the accusation, it didn't show much considering the hue of his skin. He cleared his throat roughly and gave a feeble defense, "Is not."

"Is too," Phil countered with.

"I fucking hate him! I want him dead! I would never do anything to protect him, ever," Techno snapped aggressively. And the way he snarled and nearly yelled would scare everyone but Philza, Tommyinnit, and Wilbur Soot. They were just used too it.

"What if I said he was dying right now, what would you do? He's on the floor, bleeding out, what do you do?" Phil asked.

It made Techno pause, he hated the fact it did but he needed to think about a question this grave. He dropped further into his chair, cape awkwardly pooling around him. He opened his mouth to speak but paused, "I'd kill him I'd finish him off myself."

"Why," Phil demands.

"Because blood loss is a terrible way to go," Techno answered with.

"What if someone else was about to finish Dream and you could save him momentarily? Then what?" Phil asked carefully. Each word interlocking to paint a beautiful picture in Techno's head.

"I'd save him, and then I'd kill him," Techno answered with, and he sounds ashamed of his answer even though he can't say someone else gets the honors of killing Dream. He takes a heavy breath, "I save him, kill his attacker, give him a potion, tell him to find me once he's healed, and then I'd kill him."

"Then go," Phil said as he stood up, "You don't have any omnipotence yet, but I do, and I just wanna say that you're about to lose him."

"What? He can handle some fucking bandits," Techno said defensively as Phil started to walk off.

There's a hum, "Yeah, but I doubt he can handle someone like Sam given his new Netherite gear."

Techno stayed silent, a deep knot of confusion settling in his gut. He stays here and lets Sam kill his one true rival, or he goes out there and tries to find said rival before Sam does. He gives an annoyed groan as he flips onto his side, "Sam can kill him."

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me then," Phil answered with, a smirk on his face but Techno can't see it.

The second that Phil is in the kitchen the piglin is on his feet and leaving, he can already feel his tusks jut out a little bit more than usual. Stupid divinity in his genetics, he hates and loves it. But, he'll put that godly wrath to good use, just to make sure he's the one who gets to kill Dream in the end of it all.

An axe is in his hands when he reaches the door, diamond, enchanted, it will tear open someone's skull once again. He doesn't bother to grab any armor, a totem and he's well on his way out the door and into the wilderness.

He really hopes that Sam has a spare life, just to make sure he'll wake up and understand why people don't mess with an immortals mortal.

-/-/-/-

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to track you down?" Sam asked as he took another step into the bloody snow, a deep crimson turning to ice from Dream's previous death.

The man shakes his head as the tip of a sword goes to reach under his chin. He lifts his head with the blade, "How long?" He gives that trademark grin, that undying smile, the thing he's known for most on wanted posters. His hands are resting in the snow behind him, and his jacket is slashed up, no armor, he didn't think he'd need it. How wrong he was.

"Months. I spent fucking months trying to track you down after you got out just so I could have the pleasure," Sam explained in an exasperated tone. He jutted he sword forward and Dream lurched backwards till he was flat on the snow. A paw came to rest on his knee and pressed until it shattered, he bit his tongue and didn't scream, "And you have more fucking lives than you're supposed to. You should be dead right now, unable to return."

Dream laughed, "Naw, that's not how someone like me works. I can't let you of all people kill me," He tries to push himself up to face the centaur, resting on his elbows, "Only one person out there gets the honor, and trust me, he won't be pleased to find you trying to steal it."

"We all want you dead, and you think any of us care who finishes you? They don't," Sam snarled as he leaned in, raising his paw up to Dream's femur and presses until it shatters, a bloody burst as the bones splits roughly, "I'll be fucking praised."

There's an amused hum from Dream at the sudden lurch back on Sam's end, the way his ears swivel around. Snow crunching under feet, fast, closing in on them very fast. And in the instant that Sam is looking back to see who it is, he's being tackled down by a seemingly amorphous wild boar. Tusks sharp as an axe tearing into his hide and cloven hooves (almost paws), the fur is pink, striking red down the back.

"Technoblade," Dream said as he looked at his temporary savior, "He was just bluffing."

The beast whips it's head around to snarl at Dream. The beast-like characteristics are fading, until the red separates into a cape and the horns to a crown. His breathing is labored, eyes still glazed over red, he can form words just barely; "Your life is fucking mine."

Dream would stand up and walk condescending circles around Techno at this point, but considering how ruined his left leg is he can't do so. He shrugs, "I think our friend the prison warden understands that now."

Techno still indulges, killing Sam rather swiftly, tearing out his chest and spreading the ribs. A gut wrenching scream, and a snap of teeth around a heart, he's gone before he can ask why. The boar still feasts, the boar feasts until the human half of the corpse has been thoroughly desecrated, to the point it can barely be called a corpse.

Dream just watches, fully aware of the fact that'll be him one day, when Techno has finally decided to end their game of cat and mouse. Dream quite likes this right now, just watching, mentally preparing himself for the final bell to toll. Readying himself for the day Techno decides that killing someone when they're wounded is viable and far better than letting them heal to fight at full strength.

When he raises from the corpse, so close to just being another guy, but bereft of the simplicity of a human form, he looks at Dream. He licks the blood from the back of his hand before walking over to his rival, his enemy, his beloathed, but he wouldn't dare call him a friend. He crouches down and gently prods at the shattered limb and Dream hisses, "Guess you can't make it back to your place on your own."

"Kill me now, I'm on my last life," Dream answered with, "You want too, don't you?"

"Not when you're pathetic like this," Techno said bluntly as he slid an arm under his rivals knees, black pants still intact but in need of being cut up to tend to the wound. He slides an arm around the shoulders, lowering to his back and picking him up, "I'll patch you up."

Dream feebly pushes against the torso of his rival, "No, fuck you. I have an extra life, let me freeze to death."

"That's a lame way to go," Techno said as he carried Dream, he was cold, worryingly so. Techno catches the clasp of his cape on his task and attempts to swing it over.

"Are you using your cape, as a blanket?" Dream asked, he did reach for the velvety red fabric to curl himself up in it a little bit.

"Like I said, it would suck to freeze to death," Techno said as he clutched his rivals body a little closer, he can hear a zombie groaning below the ground. It's a defensive motion, like hell he's letting Dream get struck down permanently by anything other than his own two hands.

Dream hums, "I've frozen to death before."

"How was that for you?" Techno asked as that purple glow of the portal came into view past the trunk of a tree. He slows a bit, can sudden shift from cold to hot kill a human? Demi-human, because he knows that some part of Dream isn't human just like he isn't.

Dream shrugged, "It was lame, just cold," His raises a hand to touch one of Techno's tusks and the hybrid bites, fangs just barely nipping the edge of Dream's fingernail. Shock is on his face, it's pure shock, usually held behind an arrogant mask. Techno revels in the fact he's one of the few who gets to see Dream with the mask off, even if only for a second, "Dude, dick move."

"I know," Techno said, and he grinned, it made Dream's blood boil.

He crosses his arms like a defiant teen, which, yeah, he never really grew out of the defiant part. He rests his head on the fabric of Techno's shirt, and despite the pain coursing through him he keeps a straight face. He's felt worse, "Fuck you."

Techno gives a singular laugh, "I would never."

"Neither would I," Dream spits back, "I was using hyperbole."

"Shut up before I strangle you into a coma," Techno threatened.

Dream shut up.

-/-/-/-

"Hey dad," Wilbur began with as he walked past Techno and into the kitchen.

"Yeah Wil?" Phil responded with as he pivoted on his heel to face his first son.

"Why is Techno sitting on the couch staring at the ceiling?" Wilbur asked, "His hands are bloody."

Phil shrugged, "He has an 'acquaintance' over and he's worried about how Tommy will react," He gestured around vaguely with his spatula as he spoke.

"Oh my fuck, Techno got a girlfriend?" Wilbur asked excitedly, trying to keep his voice hushed but failing.

"I do not have a girlfriend!" Techno shouted from the living room.

"Trust me, this visitor is not a girlfriend," Phil said with an amused hum, "Far from it."

"Who is it?" Wilbur asked, making a point of getting up in his dads face as he spoke, the Elytrian shifter edged back.

"You'll have to wait and see," Phil said as he pushed away his son with the tip of his spatula, "Go bother Techno about it."

"He'll rip my head off dad," Wilbur said, he snatched away the Elytrian's cooking utensil, "I'll help cook instead."

"An extra set of hands is always welcome in my kitchen," Phil said as he grabbed a spatula for himself.

On the other side of the house Tommy, the youngest of Phil's sons, is kicking off his boots and shaking down his tail of the snow. Striped fur stands on end when he catches the scent of blood, heavy on the air. Before he can even announce he's home he's following that fresh blood smell that burns his nose down the halls to Techno's room.

He doesn't knock, just swings open the door, "Techno are you-"

Words die in his throat as he stares at the man in his brothers bed, it isn't his brother. His heart rate picks up when that cunt in green tilts his head to be greeted with the sight of the blonde. There's a small smile void of malicious intent, but Tommy sees violence in those emerald eyes. He slams the door shut before Dream can even get out a weak 'hi,' his fur is bristled now.

"Technoblade, why the fuck is Dream in your bed?!" Tommy exclaimed as he walked into the living room.

"I don't fucking know!" Techno shot back as he snapped up from his sitting position, "I couldn't just let him freeze to death, that'd be cruel!"

"I thought you hated him!" Tommy practically screamed.

"I do hate him! I promise, but I need to be the one to kill him! And you wouldn't fucking get it!" Techno roared back at the considerably smaller of the two.

"Then why in the name of Philza Minecraft, Foolish Gamers, and so on and so forth! Is he, in your, bedroom?!" Tommy yelled, his throat hurt just a bit, "If you're fucking him I'm going to disown you."

"That's disgusting! I would never fuck someone as low as him," Techno snapped, tone lowering as he spoke. He heaved a long sigh, "He's staying."

"I'm killing him in his sleep," Tommy said venomously.

Techno would be snapping Tommy's neck right about now if they weren't brothers, instead he stands up and walks past Tommy who gives an annoyed sound. He leans in the doorway of the kitchen, "Is dinner ready yet?"

"I take it you don't want to eat dinner with us?" Phil asked as he portioned a couple of diagonally cut sandwiches onto a platter.

"Not if Tommy is being a bitch about Dream staying here," Techno said as kindly as he could, which wasn't kindly at all. He crossed his arms bitterly, "Can I have a plate?"

Phil hands the plate to Wilbur who hands the plate to Techno.

"Thanks," Techno said.

The living room is empty, his bedroom door is propped open. He tries to stay calm as he enters his room to find Tommy above Dream, dagger so close to piercing his heart. A pair of weak hands grasp desperately at the blade to stop it from puncturing his skin.

"Tommy," Techno said coldly, he placed the plate of sandwiches on his desk.

The blonde looked up, "This isn't what it looks like."

"Yes, yes it is what it looks like! Get this thing off of me!" Dream snapped as he attempted to use his one good leg to kick off Tommy. His attempts were feeble, he just wanted to scare off the Procyonidae, not hurt him.

"Dream, shut up," Techno snapped, "Tommy, get out of my room."

"But-" The plead was desperate.

"Now," Techno snarled and the raccoon was skittering out of the room in mere seconds. He heaves a sigh before grabbing the plate of sandwiches and dropping down his bed beside Dream.

Dream reaches for a sandwich and Techno shifts the plate a little closer.

"Think twice before badmouthing any member of my family," Techno said.

Dream nodded, "Got it."

"Sorry that Tommy just, did that," Techno said weakly as he tore a chunk out of his sandwich, cheese stuck to one of his tusks.

"I probably deserved it," Dream answered without any chalantness in his voice as he ate his sandwich.

"If you want to stay here,"

"I don't,"

"You'll have to live with that, and Wilbur, and Phil, and the humans they drag along. You aren't gonna have any control here, you're just here to heal up,"

"I didn't want to be here at all,"

"I know, but I couldn't let you freeze to death, it's so fucking lame,"

Dream gives a small sigh, "Thanks anyways."

"You're welcome," Techno said and it hurt to say it to Dream, "On account of the fact that you're sleeping in my bed-"

Dream quirked a brow and smirked at the words.

"Not sexually," Techno quickly defended with, "Fuck, you have a dirty mind."

"That I do," Dream said with a small laugh, "Please continue."

"I'm sleeping on the couch now, so if you need me, just roll out of bed and drag yourself across the floors and wake me up," Techno said.

"How hospitable," Dream said with a roll of the eyes, "I'll keep that in mind."

Techno grabs another triangle of cheese and bread, "Yeah, yeah, get some sleep."

Dream gives a sickly sweet expression, "Good night, Techno," His voice was sugar sweet and it made the piglin gag, that made Dream laugh.

"Watch your fucking mouth bud," Techno snarled out, "I'm not above killing you in your sleep."

-/-/-/-

Dreams legs are shaking, and he's holding onto Techno's hand like a vice as he tries to take steps. Everything still hurts so much, and his bones aren't quite set, but he needs to try. He's already overstayed his welcome and he needs to heal up and learn how to walk again.

"Hey, dude, you can just lay down again," Techno offered quietly as he led Dream to the kitchen, "I'll bring you some leftovers."

He shook his head, "You said that Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were bringing over their mortals, I want to be at the dinner table."

"Uh huh, and whys that?" Techno asked, tilting Dream off balance just a bit. It garnered a heavy glare that made the Piglin grin.

"I'm your mortal according to Phil, so I want to be there," Dream explained as he took yet another shaky step. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore, the gauze holding his leg in one piece.

Techno nearly laughed, "You're definitely not my mortal, I just want to be the one who kills you," He knocks his tusk gently against the side of Dream's head, "Is it not fair for me to make sure you're at your best when I do?"

"It's kinda gay, that's what it is," Dream accused rather boldly, "But really, it's just like what Phil was telling me about. You act like you own my mortality, more so than usual," He pauses, "I appreciate all the help getting back to my best again but people don't just do that."

Techno paused, "I'm built different."

And Dream just laughs, "Yeah you fucking are, you're built like a brick house and a pig for fucks sake! I'm lucky to have an enemy like you."

"I'd say the term 'rival' works better," Techno corrected as he rolled his eyes and led Dream into the kitchen.

Tommy glances up and instead of doing anything he just leans further into Tubbo. His breathing picks up.

"Dream! Glad to see you're joining us for dinner," Phil said with a grin.

"Can't stay in Techno's room the whole time I'm here, it'd be rude," Dream said, almost nervously, but not quite.

"I trust everyone here knows each other?" Phil asked as he glanced over the table.

Dream sat down next to Phil, Techno sat down next to Dream, acting as a comfortable barrier between Tommy and Dream. Schlatt leaned over the table a bit, to get a good look at the man Dream had become. He's softer now, just as gnarled with scars but physically, he's softer, less malnourished.

"Not personally," Schlatt said, "But we all know Dream."

Quackity gives a hum of agreement, "We know him very well, I guess having bad taste in men runs in the family."

Both Phil and Techno glare at Quackity.

"I'm just being honest," Quackity mused.

"Firstly, fuck off," Techno said, "Secondly, I hate this man," He gestured to said man who was sitting beside him, "Thirdly, Wilbur has dogshit taste in men and you're proof of it, lastly Tommy is, he's Tommy."

"I love debates," Tubbo said, butting into the conversation with ease, "But can we not kill each other over this little dinner?"

"Sounds fine," Quackity said as he glared at Techno, "Peachy keen."

Techno lounged back further into his chair and grabbed his plate, "I'm going to my room."

Dream gave an offended gasp, "You're gonna leave me out here to die?"

"No I'm not," Techno said before roughly hoisting up dream and slinging him onto his shoulders.

Wilbur gives a hum, "Don't be too loud, might ruin our appetites."

The glare Techno shoots at Wilbur is sharp enough to cut through steel. Wilbur just smiles.

"You're gross," Techno said.

"And hot," Wilbur answered with, "One of those two things, you aren't."

"I am this fucking close to throwing Dream at you, he will claw your eyes out," Techno threatened, holding his fingers mere millimeters apart.

"I'll have to agree with Wilbur," Quackity said smugly.

Techno places his plate down on the table and gently lifts Dream from his shoulders.

"Hey now, let's be rational, we're all adults here," Dream said rather nervously as Techno shifted how he was held.

"Yeah, and what's a couple more months with you healing up," Techno said, and despite phrasing it as a question it was a statement.

"And that's enough! From the both of you," Phil demanded as he stood up, voice cold and stern in such a way it made his children freeze. He glared at each of them, "None of you are going to your room, I plan full well on having dinner with my family present for the first time in over a month."

"Since Dream got here," Tommy muttered.

"What was that Tommy?" Phil growled out.

"He takes up all of Techno's time! They have to be doing something right under our noses," Tommy accused.

"I would never!" Techno snapped back, "I hate him."

"Then how come you're taking care of him?" Wilbur asked before Tommy could.

"Because," Techno faltered, "Because I, he-"

"He owes me one," Dream quickly stepped in with, "I saved his life and he's doing the same."

Phil knows that Dream is lying, omnipotence will do that to you. He doesn't say anything about it though.

"He doesn't have to do so in the house I live in," Tommy answered with, extremely exasperated at that.

"Tommy, Dream is a guest in our household and I expect you to at least try and respect him," Phil said, "I don't like it either, but he's Techno's mortal, we're respecting that."

"He fucking isn't!" Techno said desperately.

"Kid," Schlatt began, "Look at yourself, you're fucking obsessed with that green guy- he's your mortal, and you're his immortal, whether you like it or not."

"He's not my fucking immortal," Dream spat venomously.

"That's what I said when Phil started fawning over my existence, making sure I didn't get hurt and shit," Schlatt said as he stood up, "Porch?"

"Porch," Dream answered with as the rest of the family argued over the table.

-/-/-/-

"Look, I'm not an expert on this shit," Schlatt said, "But I sure as hell have experience."

"Then start talking," Techno demanded.

"Watch your tone, I could have smited for that," Schlatt said as he pointed to Techno with his cigar.

Dream scoffed, "Sure."

"When you sleep with someones dad anything can happen," Schlatt said with a casual shrug.

"I'll be up questioning my life decisions tonight," Techno said, "Forget late night training."

"Do you want my advice or not?" Schlatt asked coldly.

They both nodded.

"You, green," Schlatt started with, "Deal with it, Techno is gonna be making sure you don't die for a very long time. Even if you do die, I wouldn't put him past trying to bring you back if he didn't get the honors. No one will so much as lay a hand on you if they find out that you 'belong' to Techno."

"But I hate him," Dream said as the Piglin unloaded him onto a lawn chair.

"For now. You hate him for. I hated Phil and here I am, fucking him," Schlatt said with a bit of a laugh, "I guess some of me still hates him, and I'm not trying to say you two will end up fucking, but you belong to each other now."

"Like some fucked up and lazy soulmate trope?" Techno asked.

"Exactly like that," Schlatt answered with, "You're a fast learner."

"Thanks, I've been told I get it from my dad," Techno said stiffly.

"Where was I? Right, Piglin," Schlatt said, "Dream belongs to you, you can defy it, distance yourself from him, try to forget him- but if you catch wind of anyone trying to hurt him you're gonna end up fucking them up. Like what you did to Sam. Tommy would do the same for Tubbo, but that's because he cares about Tubbo as a friend, not because Tommy wants to be the one to kill Tubbo."

Techno nodded.

"You want to kill Dream when he's at his full power, you'll do anything you can to make sure you can fulfill that. Your obsession turned into a necessity somewhere along the line, sure, if you fail to kill him permanently, you'll move on. But there will be a very long mourning period of something you failed to do," Schlatt tried to explain.

"So, basically, I have a divine being here to protect me, so he can kill me?" Dream asked, "Cause that is, it's kind of stupid and hard to wrap my head around."

"How do you think I feel?" Techno asked, "We were supposed to be killing each other, dying of blood loss in a heap on the ground, buried in the same coffin."

"See? That's the whole 'immortals have a mortal' thing kicking in," Schlatt said.

"I've always thought of Dream like that," Techno said.

"And that's always how I've thought of Techno, we're supposed to die together, he kills me, I kill him," Dream defended.

"That won't happen," Schlatt said, "Techno is immortal."

"Then I'll find a way to kill him," Dream said, "I have too."

Schlatt's eyes widened a bit, "Okay, this is clearly a lot more in depth and messy than whatever Phil thinks it is that you too have going on."

Techno hoisted up Dream, "That was useless advice then."

Before Schlatt could say anything else Techno ferried Dream throughout the house, his family was still arguing. He dropped Dream down onto the bed, then he laid down on the ground.

"Don't you sleep on the couch?" Dream asked.

"They're screaming at each other, I do not want to be out there," Techno said.

Dream took a tentative breath, "You don't have to sleep on the floor."

"I'm not fucking you," Techno said.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me," Dream said, "That would sound a lot more like 'we should have sex to piss them off' instead of what I said."

Techno sat up and pulled himself onto his bed, tossing aside his cape and gently placing down his crown. He laid down on his back, Dream rested on his side facing away, towards the window.

"Don't make this gay," Techno said before Dream could even bother to say anything.

Instead he rolled over until his head was resting top of the Piglins chest, "Okay."

"This is pretty fucking gay," Techno said carefully. Maybe he enjoyed having someone lying down on top of him, it's a nice pressure, like a weight blanket shaped like a human.

"Don't care, go to sleep," Dream said, "I'll be gone in the morning."

-/-/-/-

Dream wasn't lying when he said he'd be gone in the morning.

When Techno woke up he was alone in bed, and when he opened the top drawer of his dresser one of his shirts was gone along with a gem out of his crown. Dream's mask was there, the physical one, the cracked and bloodstained porcelain left behind on top of Techno's desk. He lifted it up and out fell a small note.

I really hope that you do end up killing me, and I want to kill you too, ask Phil to bury us together, that would be nice. I want to rot with you, I want to die with you, it'd be a lot harder to say this in person, so I wrote it, and left. Like a pussy. Because sometimes you gotta be a bit of a pussy, if you ever want to find me you should be able to use the pantleg you cut off to scent track me

When you decide that it's time, make sure it's somewhere they'll find our bodies

I would say yours truly, but if you're so concerned about it being gay, I won't

There goes Techno's concerns of Tommy scaring off Dream. He places the letter down gently and clasps his cape around his neck, velvety fabric flowing comfortably. He rests his crown atop his head, now he has even more reason to kill Dream, he stole one of the crown jewels.

He finds Tommy sitting on the couch and he looks guilt ridden. He glances up to see Techno, alone, without Dream. A little bit of worry worms it's way into Tommy's stomach, did he fuck it up that badly? He really hopes he didn't, "Where's Dream?"

"Gone," Techno answered with, "You didn't cause it."

His nerves ease just a bit, "Sorry," He doesn't mean it, Techno chooses to believe he does.

"Don't worry about it," Techno said, "Just do me a favor."

"What is it?" Tommy asked.

"Make sure that me and Dream go down in the same coffin when we die," Techno said before pushing his way into the kitchen where he found Wilbur biting through an apple at a worrying pace.

Techno grabs a cooked strip of beef and tears into it as he leans against the counter.

"I'm engaged to Quackity," Wilbur said quietly, "It happened last night, when you weren't in the room."

Techno nearly chokes on his food, "Really?"

Wilbur nodded, "Yeah, really, I was waiting until we could all be together to get down on one knee. It's a big deal."

"Sorry," Techno said quietly.

"Is Dream still asleep?" Wilbur asked.

Techno shook his head, "Dream left."

"He could barely walk," Wilbur said, "Where are you going?"

Techno shrugged, "On a walk, don't know if I'll be back."

"I'll tell Phil," Wilbur said.

"you know he's a bit omnipotent, he already knows," Techno said bluntly before starting on his way off.

The morning air is cold on his face, he doesn't care about that though. Not when he has a brand new search to begin anyways, it's been forever since he's had a chance to hunt someone like Dream. The difference is that this time he's actually going to kill what he finds, and he hopes that they both go down in flames by the end of it all.

-/-/-/-

Dream is holding a dagger in his hands when Techno finds him, it's enchanted, a deep purple hue that keeps flashing this sickly green. He stuffs it in his pocket and flops onto his back, the Piglin joins him on the ground.

"You know what I've been thinking about lately?" Dream asked.

"Enlighten me," Techno answered with.

"What you said when Schlatt took us aside to try and explain the 'immortals having a mortal' thing," Dream answered with, "How we've both always thought of rotting together."

Techno gives a hum, "Doesn't everyone think that way about their true rival?"

"I don't think so, Techno," Dream said with a laugh, "It's been months since we last met, I talked with my acquaintances who have rivals, they don't think like that of their rivals. They just want their rivals to die so they can come out on top, they don't want to die with them, they'd kill their rivals in their sleep, Techno."

"Oh," Techno said quietly.

"What we have isn't normal for rivals," Dream said, "It's so fucking stupid, we hate each other, we need each other, and then, we'll kill each other."

"We're supposed to do that," Techno said.

Dream shook his head, "One of us is supposed to come out on top, we aren't both supposed to end up in the dirt."

Techno sat up, "We've dreamed of rotting together since we first met. Dream, we've wanted to slit each others throats for as long as I can remember, so fucking what if it's not normal?"

"It's pretty fucking gay," Dream said as he sat up.

"To die together? For me to rot in your arms and you in mine? That's just fucking destiny, how is that pretty fucking gay if we don't have control?" Techno questioned, "I'm dying of blood loss, and you're going down with me, understood?"

There's this odd stinging at the corner of his eyes, he classifies it as crying even though he shouldn't be. They're talking about how they're meant to die together, to be buried together, because that's their twisted rendition of this song and dance immortals do. He nods, "Yeah," He pulls out the dagger, "I found an enchantment to make sure you'll die with me."

Techno bumps the side of a tusk against Dream's head, "Thank you," He's not quite sure why he's saying thanks over a promised death, but he is.

Dream heaves a sigh, "I suppose this is it then."

"I don't want this to be it," Techno said, "I want to keep living so going down with you will be even better."

"I made stew last night," Dream offered awkwardly, "Beef, lamb, potatoes."

"No pork?" Techno asked.

"I can't eat pork even if I wanted to," Dream said, "It feels, wrong."

"Could I have a bowl?" Techno asked.

Dream gestured to the campfire behind him, "It's boiling away in the pot, help yourself."

The answer is a quiet, "Thanks."

"I don't want to kill you tomorrow," Dream said rather absently.

"Neither do I," Techno answered with.

"Then when?" Dream asked.

Techno didn't know, "I guess we'll just know when it's time."

Dream nodded, "Yeah, yeah that sounds good to me."

-/-/-/-

There's this gravitational pull when it's finally time to close the circuit, the both of them swirling to the same point like they've been caught in a hurricane. Drawn to the center point where everything coalces and becomes one, rage, blood, hatred, bones, screaming, crying- they both know why they're gridlock.

Blade of an axe pressed to the edge of Dream's sword, bright blue diamond edges clashing and shards splitting off. It blends with the sand below them, glassy, glimmering, red spills into it and darkens it in splotches. Technoblade's blood isn't red, Technoblade's blood is maroon and it shines like oil, it's not mortal.

A heady exclamation as they lurch back from each other once again, breathing labored. A dagger is raised, the one and only, the blade that will seal their fates, the blade that will spell out the ending of their tales as one. Two creatures so different brought to the same point all over again, they both started with the same weapon, and now they'll both end with the same weapon.

Technoblade loses his form, axe in one hand as he lunges at Dream, the humanity of his form fading until he's naught but a beast. A wild animal, eyes glazed over in red, crown turned to horns built to rend flesh like his tusks. And Dream just grins even wider, this is it, this is time.

He is finished. His god is finished. His god will finish him. He will finish his god. They will end it all. They will fade in each others arms. They will be go rancid in the desert heat. Their bones will twine till archeologists don't know what they are. They will end everything. His god will feast on his flesh in their last moments. He will drink his gods blood until he sees the light of reincarnation.

A tusk tears into his stomach and tears up behind his sternum, he screams and it sounds like a laugh despite how guttural and agonized it is. The hand with the dagger is pressed flush in Technoblade's throat, the enchantment shooting through the immortals blood, destroying divinity. Allowing him to die with Dream like they're supposed too, like they've been meant to do since before they were born, even in the afterlife they'll kill each other.

They'll kill each other in every world because who else is bold enough to kill either of them? Who else is smart enough to figure out the enchantment to kill a god?

Who else is meant for Technoblade the way Dream is and that in itself begs the question of who else is meant for Dream the way Technoblade is.

There's a laugh as the enchantment winds through Technoblades veins, destroying him as he destroyed Dream. The tusk is unmoving in Dreams chest as he laughs with Technoblade, even as fangs bite into his flesh. He is meat. He is flesh. He is sustenance. Technoblade is a predator. Technoblade is a devourer. And he will die of food poisoning because nothing else can kill him.

A hand, slowly losing strength because Dream drank his potions like a good boy, raises up to clutch at Technoblades shoulder. Blunt nails tear into the fabric as he laughs. It's a wet sound. He sounds like death. And he supposes that killing a god could make him death. He takes a breath, deep despite all of the red in his lungs, and he speaks.

"This is how it was meant to be," The words come out on a whisper, spoken with reverence because this is how it's supposed to be. Technoblade kills him. He kills Technoblade.

And the god gives a deep hum, a reverberating sound that shakes into Dreams bones. His immortality is being stripped from his blood, the oily sheen, glistening a rainbow of colors in the most unnatural way, is gone. He can feel himself fading and he's glad that it's Dream who did it. A hand, rough, desperate, hungry, clutches at the small of the mortals back and clutches him so very close. Snout burrowing around inside of Dream's chest, everything he has to offer in this destined death until Technoblade is choking in it all.

Strangled in greed or strangled with gifts he can't tell the difference, all he knows is that the taste of Dream's blood is perfect. The way bloody hands tangle into pink hair so long and left unbraided. Head mashed into his shoulder and breathing a susurration against his ear, it's hedonism with how much he keeps taking even though they're both to die in moments.

"I love you,"

Neither of them know who said it, they both know those aren't the right words with how sick this fulfillment of their existence is. The engulfing and ever consuming flame of obsession ate them both. The difference is that Dream's god is still eating him even as he fades and slumps further into the warm body just barely holding on.

And when it's finally over, they lay in the sand. They go rancid in the heat. They rot in the heat. Limbs entangled and weapons caught in each others flesh even as their corpses release everything else. They fade from reality together as they were meant too. Neither of them know. Neither of them see. They are gone.

Phil is the only one who knows they rotted out there for a week when someone finds their corpses being picked at by the vultures. Phil is the only one who knows what went down with the curse of his omnipotence. And even as he hates having to bury his own son, he knows in the back of his mind this was inevitable. Dream was his sons mortal. His on was Dreams immortal. It was bound to spiral, it was bound to end in bloody promises.

-/-/-/-

"How does it feel Phil?" Schlatt asked as Phil sat down beside him.

"How does what feel?" Phil shot back with weakly.

"Attending your kids funeral," Schlatt said.

"Terrible, you're staying at my place tonight," Phil answered with, "For emotional support."

"Figured as much," Schlatt sighed.

Wilbur is the final person at the casket with the rotting bodies, Quackity stands beside him. They both place a flower on the rotting flesh.

"This sucks ass," Wilbur choked out quietly.

Quackity nodded, "Definitely."

"There goes Techno, my favorite brother," Wilbur said, "What am I gonna do now?"

"You have me," Quackity supplied gently.

"I know I do, but it's not the same," Wilbur said, "It's just, not the same."

Tommy is crying, head buried in his hands as the smell of rotting flesh makes his stomach turn. He hates it. He feels like he's going to vomit even with a hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

"Hey, dude," Tubbo said gently, "It's gonna be fine."

"It would be fine if he didn't make me bury him with Dream," Tommy practically sobbed into his hands, "That cunt broke me, and Techno gave him the honors to be buried together."

Tubbo just pulled his friend into a hug, silently.

"I'm gonna do it though," Tommy said weakly, "Because that's what he wanted."

-/-/-/-

Techno revives with Dream in his arms and while it isn't unwelcome it is unexpected. They did die like this, it makes sense they'd revive like this. He recognizes the room as his own and Dream is still asleep, locked firmly under one of Techno's arms.

They weren't supposed to revive, that was supposed to be it. He's never lost a life, he must've had extras. So much for that whole event happening. It was for absolutely nothing aside from feeling a little bit less weighted about the odd form of rivalry he holds with Dream.

Said man is starting to wake up, shuffling just a bit. He goes ramrod straight in mere moments before sitting up, "We should be dead."

Techno gives a hum, "Oh well."

"What a fucking waste!"

"Dude! Keep it down, Phil isn't a heavy sleeper,"

Dream dropped down onto Techno's chest again, "This is bullshit, it took me so long to find that dagger, and get the resources to actually kill you."

"We could do it again," Techno offered.

"That's not," Dream began, then he stopped himself. Right, they already aren't conventional rivals. They're already breaking the fundamental rules of rivalry, "Yeah, sure, we'll go on some grand adventures to find ourselves and end up in each others arms all over again."

"Don't make it gay," Techno said quietly.

"It already is gay," Dream said.

"Again, not gay if we have no say in how shit happens," Techno said, "Besides, I still hate you deeply."

"And so do I, fuck, we were supposed to stay dead," Dream gave an exasperated sigh, "It would tie off all those loose ends."

"Life isn't simple," Techno said as he shrugged off Dream and moved towards his desk. Everything ached from the brutality of his death, he picks up the mask, "You left this here."

Dream gives a hum, catching it when it's tossed over, "Thanks."

"How long do you think we were dead for?" Techno asked.

"A month, maybe two," Dream answered with, "Wanna go give Phil a heart attack?"

"Oh, absolutely," Techno said as he tugged Dream off the bed.

#rivals duo #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #technoblade #dreamwastaken #philza minecraft #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #schlatt n phil are also gay dilfs but its background #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw gore #tw character death #tw body horror #tw cannibalism

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mysticstarlightduck · 7 months

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Incorrect Quotes Tag!

Tagged by the very cool, @rickie-the-storyteller! Find her post here!

This is the link to the generator.

Since the last time I did this, I used my characters from The Last Wrath, this time, I did this tag for my main cast of Tales of Wilted Flowers!

It is mostly platonic, the only ships here are: Rylisan/Eiralis, and Xarian/Lorelai.

Micah, Caladin, Arista, and Neoma'ka are their friends and adventuring companions. Kaellel is Eiralis' estranged older brother and Niven is one of Rylisan's many siblings.

Xarian: Is something burning?

Lorelai (leaning seductively on the counter): Just my desire for you.

Xarian: Lorelai, the toaster is literally on fire.

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Kaellel (flying down to camp like nothing’s wrong in the world): Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.

Rylisan: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

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Eiralis to Rylisan: Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Eiralis: What are you doing?

Rylisan, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it is not working.

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Xarian: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.

Caladin: I will politely decline.

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Rylisan: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”?

Arista (a dhampir with issues): …

Arista: …Should I not have?

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Neoma’ka: While you were caught up in your heterosexuality, I studied the way of the blade!

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Lorelai: Do you have a self-care routine?

Kaellel: "Keep going bitch,” said to myself in different accents.

Eiralis, coming into the room: Kaellel, no.

-------

Rylisan, stoically amused: Do you need help getting up?

Caladin, after a drunken brawl: Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

------

Eiralis: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.

------

Xarian, incredulous:... You’re giving me a sticker?

Lorelai: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Xarian: …

Xarian: I’m not a preschooler.

Lorelai: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Xarian: I earned this, back off!

-------

Kaellel, eyeing Rylisan with a death glare: It’s not that I don’t trust Eiralis, I just... don’t trust my sister's impulse control. Especially when it comes to you.

-------

Eiralis: *eating a cinnamon roll*

Rylisan, feigning shock: Cannibalism.

Eiralis: *confused chewing noises*

--------

Micah: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...

Kaellel, walks past: Only as their rodeo clown.

--------

Lorelai: Neoma’ka, no.

Neoma’ka, cracking her knuckles, walking towards a fight: Neoma’ka, yes.

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Lorelai: Why do humans have different blood groups?

Caladin, looking at Arista: So mosquitoes can enjoy different flavors.

Arista: *vampiric hiss*

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Rylisan: What can therapy do for me that screaming for 30 minutes can’t?

Niven: I have several questions... Namely why are you like this?

-------

Micah: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend my friendship on new clothes.

-------

Rylisan: You're violent.

Arista: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

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Caladin: I was arrested for being too cool.

Xarian: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

--------

Xarian: Isn’t it a bit dangerous?

Lorelai: Xarian, please. We’ve been in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

Xarian: …

Lorelai: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

Xarian, narrows his eyes: ...

Lorelai: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

---------

Rylisan: Do we have any orange juice left?

Kaellel: *pours the remaining juice into their cup without breaking eye contact*

Kaellel: Sorry, we’re all out.

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Xarian: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold?

Neoma’ka: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

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Rylisan: Niven, I screwed up, big time.

Niven (downing a glass of wine, done with life): Brother dearest, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

---------

Arista: Now it's time for some witty back and forth banter. You go first.

Caladin: *sobbing*

Arista: Look, my dude, I'm not sure where to go with that.

---------

Lorelai: That was so hot, Xarian.

Xarian: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Lorelai: I'm so in love with you.

---------

Kaellel: You know, Micah, you are the sun in my life.

Micah: Why? Cause I'm smoking hot?

Kaellel: Because it hurts my eyes looking at you. LEAVE MY HOUSE-

---------

Neoma’ka: What do you do for a living?

Rylisan: I exist against my will.

---------

Eiralis: Hey, Rylisan, do you have any hobbies?

Rylisan: Swimming..

Eiralis: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Rylisan: In a pool of self-hatred and regret.

---------

Micah: As a responsible adult-

Caladin: *chuckles*

Micah:… As a responsible adult—

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Lorelai: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff.

Xarian: Oh, that was all real.

Rylisan (interrupts): Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?!

Xarian: Well, If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right!

Lorelai:... He has a point.

---------

Tagging: @writernopal, @tabswrites, @cabbojage, @clairelsonao3 and @liv-is.

#writing #writeblr #writers #writerblr #my wips #character writing #my characters #my writing #writers on tumblr #incorrect quotes #tag games!#funny!#wip: Tales of Wilted Flowers

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radical-revolution · 2 years

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HOW DO WE LIBERATE OURSELVES FROM THE POWER OF OTHERS?

Recently I was at a conference, and one of the men at the conference was very powerful, and very preoccupied with power, much like a teenager might be occupied with power, except that he was considerably older.

I experienced this as he was introduced to me and he said, “How ya doing Ram?” I spent time with him and saw that he had decided in his mind that I was irrelevant. Everything I stood for was irrelevant, and I felt my irrelevance in his presence, and I watched that pour through me. I watched myself get caught in it at first, so that I started to crunch up into irrelevance and get slightly deviant. Those are the ways I responded to irrelevancy in his mind about me.

Then I saw my predicament, saved by my meditation bell, and I saw what I was doing. I saw my mind buy his model of myself, and just the noticing of that started to loosen its hold over me. He had brought me into the dimension of power, and found me wanting. He found that I was not powerful enough to be important in his eyes, and I just sat with it, and I felt what it felt like to be irrelevant and somewhat litigious. I just noticed all this, and slowly as I noticed it, and just allowed it. I didn’t push it away, I didn’t make believe that it didn’t exist, I just noticed and allowed it.

Very subtly, just like the way clouds sometimes just break up, it just started to sort of dissolve, and as it dissolved I started to be more quiet and see the way things are, and see the way I had given my power over to him.

I had given him the power to define who I am. I had looked in his eyes literally and said, “Am I enough?” and he said, “No.”

I worked with it. It caught me during that day and we were together all weekend, so it wasn’t easy. That first day, he really had me, and I noticed myself edging away from him, and when I’d look at him, I’d get tight. I’d watch him and I found myself with other people showing that “I was somebody.” I mean the poignancy of our predicament is incredibly bittersweet.

Now, I have practices I have developed over the years of taking people who get to me and working with them. I take them into my meditation practice, Metta meditation. I imagined him sitting across from me, and me saying over and over, “May you be free from danger, may you be free from physical suffering, may you be free from mental suffering, may you know ease of well-being.”

By the time I had finished the meditation, I could bring him to mind, and I felt that my heart didn’t close down, but could stay open.

There’s a beautiful quote from Kabir, that says, “Do what you do with another human being but never put them out of your heart.” But it’s not always that easy. I saw that my heart had closed down and engaged with my mind. The next day, there he was again, and I felt a flicker in my heart, but I went up to him and said, “Good morning,” looking directly at him. I was right there with it, and there was enough quietness in me so that even though the reactions or the tightening and the bravado were happening, I was right there with it.

I just looked at him and was just with him and suddenly, it was as if the thing you’re so afraid of just dissolves in front of you. It just went away, and I was just there with another being, who had his stuff, but his stuff no longer engaged my mind. I didn’t enjoy him, but I saw he was a good person, trying to do good.

-Ram Dass

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never-not-ever · 1 year

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I may not be able to clean the whole apartment tonight but I’m almost done with the living room! Honestly my procrastination and how I deal with problems by avoiding and the getting overwhelmed.. I know it’s not healthy. But right now I’m feeling really good cause I’m finally doing something.

We had a big fight and it might be over. For the time being she still does not have a job and even if she got one tomorrow she’d have to save up. I told her that I’m not going to kick her out, I’m not going on dating sites and looking for other people. I’m not doing anything in the relationship part of my life except putting a pause on whatever this is and taking a step back. I’m putting my foot down for once because I cannot keep giving in to her. She asks for a hug and I said no because hours ago you called me a cunt and then just now you told me I’m a miserable human being, that’s the way I was brought up and I’ll always be miserable. Then she starts crying and running off. We are both now in our 30’s. I understand she is going through stuff right now but this is the second time she’s put us in this predicament with absolutely no regards to how we’re going to get by.

We don’t even want the same things. She wants to travel and get a dog. With what money? I want to focus on my career, go back to school and have a family. We can do family trips down the road. Like I said.. I’m 30. Enough is enough. I have a good therapist, I have an amazing job with good supports there. I can handle us breaking up this time around. Things are so much different than they were 4 years ago.

We both dug ourselves into this mess of an apartment and we both are unmotivated and messy and procrastinate. But in the end I’m going to be the one to do something about it. I will do all the cleaning if it means an easier exit for us to part ways.

I’m probably leaving out bits of information that make this all seem complicated and confusing but I just needed to pause the cleaning and vent. My therapist heard it all this morning but things have changed since then. Cleaning!! And putting my foot down with her!

#personal #ugh I’m not even going to reread it 🤷🏻‍♀️

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aphoestrope · 2 years

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Fictober '22 - Day 4

prompt: #4 "How would that even work?" original fiction: tales of the realm - medieval fantasy au rating: teen and up audiences (may not be appropriate for audiences under 13) warnings: none.

---

Sometimes, she couldn’t believe the audacity some people have. There were times she asked herself how she got herself into this predicament, but then she remembered the desperation. She remembered that night the castle fell and her dear father and mother were slain. She remembered the dead bodies still warm and soaked in blood sprawled all over the floor of the palace she once called home. She remembered the day her eyes met his’ soulless ones, ready to slaughter her mercilessly.

Now, Syllavana Loramaer sought revenge—the throne was her birthright, and she will take it back whatever it takes.

“Now how would that even work?!” The frustration in her voice was evident. “Getting the orcs to fight in our war? That’s absurd—”

“We need the extra power, Ava,” She heard Raegys interject, his arms crossed in front of his chest, “you know they are the best brawlers and quite hard to kill.”

The former princess sighed loudly, rubbing her face using her own palms. She turned towards the third presence in the room who’d been rather quiet during the whole argument. His protruding horns were distracting her a bit, but it was his emotionless eyes that spoke volumes.

“What do you think, Chieftain Devon?” Ava finally dared enough to ask for his opinion—what can she say? He terrified her a little.

The tiefling shifted his gaze towards Ava then Raegys, going back and forth between them once then settled on the strategy table laid before them.

“It’s a necessary risk.” Devon responded, his finger pointing at a certain part of the map. “Dunvons Mountains is their territory, and if we ally ourselves with them, then we’d have an advantage that the enemy doesn’t.”

“Which is…?”

“The element of surprise.” Raegys tried to rectify Ava’s uncertainty. “Most of the men are all under Torien’s banner. He’d think we won’t have enough forces to overwhelm his’.”

Ava watched as the young knight ran his finger over the area of the mountains and the forests. “With our alliance with Chieftain Devon, we have gained considerable force and control over Aberron Ports. Nordahaeril Kingdom has declared their alliance with us and refused entrance to anyone who bore banners that ally with Torien.”

“No one would suspect you allying with the tieflings.” the Chieftain resumed. “No one would certainly expect you to ally with orcs, either.”

Raegys looked at Ava then, trying to reassure her even more. “It’ll be worth it.” He said. “I have spent enough time observing the orcs with the Kingsglaives during the war to say with confidence that they’re better off on our side than Torien’s.”

“But how?” Ava spoke up. “That’s the only question. How do I convince the orcs to fight for me, a human, their long-time sworn enemy?”

She knew the two male before her already had a plan when they looked at each other with a tiny, knowing smile.

“It’s always a show of power with them, Princess.” Devon answered for both of them. “We challenge them to a duel.”

#fictober22 #day 4 #original fiction #medieval fantasy

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kaz-playz · 2 years

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Statehouse IQ's but ft. The cities?!?!

More likely than you think.

~~~~

Springfeild: Isn’t a bit dangerous?  Chicago : Springfeild, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.  Springfeild: ...  Chicago : Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.  Springfeild: ...  Chicago : Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

~~~~

Springfeild: Are you sure this is safe?  Illinois : Safer than Flintstone vitamin gummies in a bottle.  Illinois : Keep twisting, junior! All you’re gonna get is clicks.

~~~~

Springfeild: Do we have any orange juice left?  Illinois : *pours the remaining juice into their cup*   Illinois: Sorry, we’re all out.

~~~~

Chicago : Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles?  Springfeild: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

~~~~

Springfeild: Just be yourself. Say something nice.  Chicago : Which one? I can't do both.

~~~~

NYC: *sharpens knife* We've got ways of making people talk.  NYC: *cuts piece of cake*  Rochester: ...Can I have some?  NYC: Cake is for talkers.

~~~~

NYC: Hey, what’s the name of the guy who lives down the hall?  Buffalo : His cats' names are Walter and Rose.  NYC: That's not what I asked.  Buffalo : That is all the information I have.

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Buffalo : *shoves their hand in the slot of a toaster*  Rochester: …  Buffalo : …I get confused sometimes.  Rochester: Me too.

~~~~

New York: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why.  Rochester: Only if you also don't ask why.  Rochester: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag*  New York: ...  New York, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

~~~~

NYC: I’m 80% awesome 20% water and 100% handsome.  Buffalo : That’s 200%.  NYC: I’m twice the man you’ll ever be.

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Rochester: I couldn't do this without you, NYC.  NYC: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

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NYC: If you don't stop talking, I'm going to jump out of that window.  Rochester: ...We're on the ground floor.  NYC: I know but I want a dramatic exit.

~~~~

Rochester: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship.  Buffalo: We’re not friends.  Rochester, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

~~~~

New York: Did you win? Or just not die?  New York: Either way, hooray.  NYC: ...Is "no" a valid answer?  New York: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

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Dallas: Is it just me or is instant ramen even better uncooked?  Texas: It’s just you.

~~~~

Austin: Is the pink panther a lion?  Houston : Say that again but slower.  Austin: I don’t get it.  Houston : He’s a PANTHER.  Austin: Is that a type of lion?  Houston : No, it’s a fucking panther.  Austin: *googles panther* They aren’t pink?  Houston : AND LIONS ARE?!

~~~

Texas: Hopefully Dallas has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings.  Dallas: Oh, shut up and die Texas.

~~~~

Austin: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie*  Houston : You can't just skip to the happy ending!  Austin: I don't have time for their problems.

~~~~

Dallas: When's the last time you slept?  Houston : Uh... a few days ago, I think.  Dallas: A few- how many?!  Houston : Uh... *starts counting on fingers* I need more fingers...  Dallas: What you need is sleep!

#illinois wttsh #texas wttsh #new york wttsh #Chicago wttsh #New York city wttsh #austin wttsh #i want more cities content #cities wttsh #miami is in the next one #i can't remember all the canon city appearances

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pressplaytech · 7 months

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The Eternal Enigma: Will Microsoft Teams Ever Stop Testing Our Patience?

As technology enthusiasts, we've collectively stood on the precipice of technological advancements, marveling at the digital utopias promised to us by tech giants. In our pockets, we hold more computational power than the spacecraft that landed humans on the moon. And yet, here we all are, screaming into the virtual abyss: “When, oh when, will Microsoft Teams stop being so... rubbish?”

We've endured Clippy. We've battled through Windows Vista. We've somehow survived Internet Explorer. But the saga of unrelenting challenges that Microsoft bestows upon us did not stop there. Enter: Microsoft Teams.

It started off innocently enough. "A unified communication and collaboration platform," they said. "Teams can help your organization," they promised. Little did we know, we were signing up for a rollercoaster of bugs, outages, and questionable user-interface choices.

Imagine this: You’ve prepared well for your vital presentation. Your slides are a masterpiece. Your speech is succinct, engaging, and impactful. Your camera is on, and you’re ready to smash it. But lo and behold! Microsoft Teams has other plans. The sharing options seem to be playing hide and seek, your coworkers’ faces are pixelating into 8-bit versions of themselves, and the audio sounds like it's being transmitted from the International Space Station.

But hey, at least it’s consistent – consistently giving us something to lament about.

Who needs straightforward chat options and effortless video calls when you can have a smorgasbord of buttons, tabs, and menus that make you feel like you’re navigating the cockpit of an alien spaceship? Kudos to Microsoft for keeping us on our toes, ensuring our problem-solving skills remain razor-sharp as we decipher the enigma of, let's say, trying to find where the "leave meeting" button has scurried off to this time.

And let’s not forget the mystical adventure of software updates. Just when you've managed to get the hang of things, Teams swoops in with an update to scramble your newfound knowledge, reshuffling features and options like a mischievous digital jester.

In these moments of digital despair, we inevitably find ourselves pondering one of life’s seemingly unanswerable questions: “When will Microsoft Teams stop being so darn crap?”

Theories abound, of course. Some speculate that the development team behind Microsoft Teams is, in fact, a group of rebellious AI, hell-bent on torturing the human race for our over-reliance on technology. Others suggest that this is Microsoft’s elaborate scheme to test our patience, resilience, and perhaps secretly studying our behaviors in the face of perpetual digital adversity for some clandestine psychological experiment.

But fret not, dear reader, for there’s a silver lining in this cloud of digital chaos. Amidst the confusing labyrinth of Teams, we find unity in collective exasperation. Memes are born, jokes are shared, and we are all briefly bonded over the universal struggle that is navigating our way through another mystifying Microsoft Teams meeting.

In all seriousness, we hold onto hope that with each outcry, with every piece of feedback, and through our shared tales of tech-woe, Microsoft is listening. And that someday, maybe, just maybe, they’ll unveil a version of Teams that doesn’t inspire quite so many creative expletives.

In the meantime, we shall persevere, continue to navigate through the virtual mazes, and perhaps, find solace in the camaraderie of shared technological turmoil. After all, they say a problem shared is a problem halved. So, here’s to halving our Teams-induced predicaments, one bewildered user at a time.

Please note that this article is intended for comedic and entertainment purposes and does not reflect any real animosity towards Microsoft or its products. We acknowledge that Microsoft Teams is widely used and appreciated by many users and organizations worldwide.

Remember: Always approach tech troubles with a pinch of salt and a hearty chuckle, because at the end of the day, it’s just another bug in the matrix, waiting to be squashed.

#microsoft #office #office 365 #teams #tumblr #wordpress #webdesign #hosting #computer stuff

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jdgo51 · 9 months

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DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR AUGUST 26, 2023

A Constant Reminder

By Abigail Colbow (Ohio, USA)

READ ISAIAH 40:25-31

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

ISAIAH 40:31 (NIV)

"When I was in seventh grade, I attended a confirmation class. During one of our lessons, we were challenged to find an image online that reminded us of God. The image I found was an open field, colored warmly with sunlight. The picture reminded me of all the good times I had at summer church camp. Over the picture was today’s quoted scripture.

I decided to use the image as the background on my phone so I could see it throughout my day. It was a nice reminder to look for God in my everyday life. Even during hard times when I had doubts and wondered whether God was really there, the picture and verse continued to remind me that I am a child of God and that my faith will always be a part of me. Now I make sure that at least one of my electronic devices has a lock screen that reminds me of God.

In hard times, it is easy to forget that God has plans for each one of us. But we can find little ways to remind ourselves that God is near." God has it all worked out, and we may stray off the path at times. Even then He will have the answer to get us back on track.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Dear God, thank you for drawing near to us. Help us to see your work in our lives." Amen.

Isaiah 40:25-31

"'25 So to whom will you compare me, and who is my equal? says the holy one. 26 Look up at the sky and consider: Who created these? The one who brings out their attendants one by one, summoning each of them by name. Because of God’s great strength and mighty power, not one is missing. 27 Why do you say, Jacob, and declare, Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD, my God ignores my predicament”? 28 Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He doesn’t grow tired or weary. His understanding is beyond human reach, 29 giving power to the tired and reviving the exhausted. 30 Youths will become tired and weary, young men will certainly stumble; 31 but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength; they will fly up on wings like eagles; they will run and not be tired; they will walk and not be weary."' God has mighty strength and even you have strength that you are unaware of. When you are tired and beaten down, just grab hold of more strength from above. You will truly soar among the Eagles. Bless you in these times! Joe

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your-regina · 1 year

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About fairness

Doesn't it feel unfair? I find it so hard to not seethe in the face of such blatant injustice. I believe fairness is much rarer than it seems, since even at birth the great majority of beings will be put into different levels of hell. In darker moments I tend to believe existence in itself is a curse, an atonement of sorts, because I can't accept that - even in the best iteration of life - every form of existence leads to struggle, pain and decay. The knowledge of death should be enough torment, but as conscious beings we can't help but go beyond. And thus we find ourselves in all sorts of fabricated predicaments.

Growing up, as I gained some understanding of the world I began to despise my conscience and the many forms of torture it posed for my existence, which naturally should have been way easier. I used to believe I'd be so much more at ease if I was some sort of plant, devoid of any knowledge of both life or death, or even uncaring of my own survival and all of its implications.

I jokingly said I wished I had been born as a microorganism destined to die in mere seconds with not an ounce of consciousness.

I think there are many things that make someone's life easier, such as money, beauty, status, social context and even some inner strengths or personality traits. As a kid, I was way too naive, enough to ignore the vast amount of differences between humans. I wholeheartedly believed in equality and stuck to the idea that everyone had primarily good intentions, despite having seen pretty awful people in action from a very young age. I kept this childish outlook on life for almost the entirety of my teenage years, even if at a first glance I seemed so negative and, according to some people who met me back then, unapproachable.

Even as the sheltered girl I still am, I've come to realize that not everyone lives in the same world. This is no longer about whether I'd be better off as a rabbit or a succulent, but rather about how much different my experience would have been if I had been born into a happy, wealthy or just barely better family. It sounds vane and shallow because it is, but am I not allowed to have petty complaints whenever I want? It's not like being in any other way has gotten me somewhere better. It's been a while since I've gathered enough decency to admit to being an insanely envious person, someone who not only fancies someone's money or position, but something as simple as their good mothers, their qualities and dreams. I doubt many people have ever resented someone for simply having an idea of what they want to do with their life.

Saying I can get jealous over someone's family can almost make me seem a bit better than I actually am, because this poison goes way beyond that. I hate thinking of how some people have never had to work hard to get anything in their entire life. I recall how I cautiously saved my mom's money when I was just a kid, simply because I wanted her to not worry so much about it, while out there many kids would throw tantrums whenever their parents didn't buy them something expensive. Even now, I can't avoid getting anxious whenever I have to spend money, even if it's absolutely necessary, like when I got extremely sick for many months and didn't go to the doctor until I collapsed that fateful night of January.

I've also seen where beauty can get someone, and sometimes, even if it's perhaps the most frivolous wish in the world, I keep thinking my life could be so much easier if I had some of that grace at least. I think a lot of human struggles revolve around beauty, of what is pleasant to the eyes. It is an everchanging concept, and one in which we can't seem to agree on. If humans collectively have made such a big deal out of beauty, why is it so wrong for a person to wish they had it?

I grew up hearing tales about otherworldly beauty and it always seemed to be so closely related to kindness and good fortune. No astoundingly beautiful lady ever went home poor and unfortate at the end of any fairy tale, just as every ugly woman faced the darkest destiny for the happy ending to come.

Although I wish I could defy the many standards set over the centuries, I've been trained to perceive certain things as beautiful and I can't seem to change my own ideals despite knowing they're likely not mine at all. I suppose this happens to most people, even though many may not be so aware of it. And just like that, I feel like we've laid a curse upon us all, setting us up for disappointment since birth.

As someone who was sadly not too blessed in that regard, I've been fighting my own selfish wishes in order to keep myself more at ease with this body I'll carry around for quite some time. But can you really blame me if I say I don't like myself and I wish I was vastly different? Even if you did, I'm way past caring about opinions, not when I've thought about this for such a long time, and when it's caused so much harm to myself.

I still think, through some amount of monstrous will power, someone could possibly rid themselves of such imposed wishes, but I don't think it would be neither quick nor easy. But because of that, I've worked on accepting myself as an ugly person and live as that without giving it much thought. But you see, if I ever mention this idea to anyone, they're so quick to tell me I'm not ugly and swear I do have some good features. This only reaffirms the fact that beauty is still important to everyone, important enough that they try to console me over the lack of it. Clearly, that's not what I want at all, or rather what I wish I didn't want.

Money and beauty are only some among the myriad of concepts that complicate life. Maybe I'm partially to blame for even stopping to complain for these little things, but are they really little at all?

I can't help but be bugged by the idea that some have been granted so much by existence while other will always have to crawl looking for scraps until they face the same gruesome fate as any other living thing. I can't stop hating the idea that I have to feel grateful for the little crumbs I've got even though I was cursed with the knowledge of the better things the world could have given me.

The tale of the forbidden fruit in the heart of Eden has always felt like utter hell to me. Why put something in plain sight for eternity and still warn not to ever get near it? Isn't that some sort of torture by itself? I wouldn't be the one to save us from banishment.

If I put it this way, does it sound overly negative? Does it make me sound like a bitter old lady? I do feel like that sometimes, to be honest. In any case, it's not like this is all that goes through my mind everyday. I think of much more mundane things, vane enough to make me look and sound rather shallow, and I'm the happiest in those occasions. But struggles inevitably lead to dissatisfaction, and I'm the sort of person who just can't keep her complaints to herself. Still, I've told you so many times how much I wish I could bring some warmth to the world, I wish I could be brighter. Because of this, I'd rather write a thousand unsent letters than to ever utter a word about these things to anyone, not anymore.

#regina's heart

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hocusbogus · 1 year

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Christmas Week Update

This week has been very chill.

Everyone else is already on their Christmas/Year-end break (clearing leaves), so even work doesn’t feel like work.

But despite being chill my anxiety will still sneak in from time to time, it’s that productivity demon, the need to constantly be productive is indeed a modern predicament. We are so deep into the hustle culture that it feels wrong to be relaxing, it feels wrong to not be on edge and to chase the next deadline, to worry about things that are beyond your control.

However, I think this year, especially this month I’ve learned to pace myself. I’ve learned to take it day by day more than at any other point in my life, turning 30 did something to me. I can’t wait to write about the turning 30 part and also the “things I’ve learned from xx years” series that I’ve been doing since 2014 if I’m not mistaken, or was it 2013?

Updates on how the past week has been for me, or rather the past couple of months, Nov and Dec. I feel more in touch with my core, my passion, and my purpose. I’ve talked about this before, about having a purpose and how much of a skeptic I was. I’ve never felt as invigorated as I’ve felt this month, and it has to do with the fact that I’ve been writing every day (or almost every day). If I’m not writing, I’ll be editing vlogs.

Yes, I’ve started vlogging finally, officially! I used to always just post them as Snapchats (shoutout to the Snapchat era), and IG stories. I remember posting edits on FB in the past, that was like 2008-2009, I even posted my cover songs, and dancing videos. Those who didn’t know me since that era may not know that I’ve always documented my life that way. I had diaries, I wrote adaptations of my life on Wattpad, I post videos, and record a lot of moments in my life, in different formats.

But I’m doing it more seriously now, I would record and edit properly and learn about content production and get feedback. I haven’t been this personally fulfilled in years, for as long as I can remember as an adult, I rarely felt this way. Even when I was doing well in my career, it never really made me feel as alive as when I am doing what I’m currently doing.

I think the last time I felt as fulfilled was in 2016-2017 when my short story was published by FIXI, an actual publishing house in Malaysia. As a writer, that’s probably the most satisfying thing ever. Then it was just corporate life.

Not shaming corporate life, I am thankful for what it gave me and allowed me to experience, the people that came into my life during that period but I just know in my core this is not something that I am meant to do. I have an Aquarius Midheaven for god sake.

I know I am meant to swim and bask in creativity and creation, I am meant to live life the way my soul wanted to and I’ve been doing that a lot just as I turned 30. I’ve been doing it before that, especially since the start of 2022, but it amplified after the 13th of October.

I would love to admit that I do love my life now, and I am so excited for 2023. I realized being 'Happy' is not the goal here although it feels great, I know that there needs to be balance in our human experience for us to truly live, to truly be able to create and express ourselves, we need to feel it all. I am so looking forward to 2023 with everyone that I love because I can feel a shift and a change happening.

#personal

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apparitionism · 6 years

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Helicobacter 6

Here are some more words, most of which are completely frivolous. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but just for the purposes of the ongoing “this is why”: I really do think it’s worth my time to continue to create narratives featuring characters who would, in an ideal world, be embodied by actors who convincingly embodied similarly named characters on a TV show some time ago. I don’t think we’re done yet. We’ll see how all the variables shake out, but I don’t think we’re done yet. Obviously also not done with this story, which comprises part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5 in addition to this new part.

Helicobacter 6

“Why are you here?” Helena managed to speak.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Myka said. She didn’t move.

“You’re welcome,” Helena said back, willing herself not to move either. Thus there they both stood, not moving. After a time, Helena ventured, “But why are you here now? What did you tell your mother?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.”

This struck Helena as absurd. “Did you sneak out?”

“Of course not. Who sneaks out of their own apartment? I just... left quietly. I wrote her a note.”

“What did the note say?”

A pause, a look. Myka was very still. “What do you want it to have said?”

Helena looked down, at Myka’s mouth, and thought of how her store of worldly knowledge now included the feeling of kissing that mouth. How her store of worldly knowledge could only be enhanced by having more examples upon which to render any judgments regarding that feeling. She looked up, into Myka’s green, green eyes. Don’t do it, an angel warned. Go on, whispered its corresponding devil. Trying to dismiss that devil, she said aloud, “My impulses tend to steer me into trouble.”

Myka smiled gentle, sweet. Then she chuckled. “That would be a really weird thing for me to write to my mother.”

“And I don’t want to drag you there with me,” Helena went on, determined.

“Getting weirder by the sentence.”

Helena concluded, “So it should have said ‘Be right back.’”

Myka didn’t confirm or deny; she resumed staring.

“Why are you here?” Helena tried again.

Myka breathed, a deep, closed-mouth inhale-exhale, as if she were preparing to lift a particularly heavy weight. At last she said, “I was curious.” And Helena thought, Oh, of course, now here it comes—but Myka laughed. “Not about that. Not like you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You are so transparent.”

“I am not!”

“To me you are.”

How was it that they so often and effortlessly fell into speaking like this, as if they truly were what they were pretending to be? “If I’m so transparent, then what could you possibly be curious about.” To her own ears, she sounded petulant.

Now another conscious inhale, a studied exhale. “If you’ll kiss me like that when my mother’s watching... what will you do when she isn’t?”

All petulance fled.

Helena’s immediate thought: Fast the first time—as if we really were drunk in that shadow. I would put my hands on you, and that would be that.

Helena’s spoken response: “Nothing.” But she said it with a dry mouth, for she had in that same immediacy remembered Myka’s I bet you’re fast.

“Should I believe you?” Not a demand, but an offering of a soft opportunity... for Helena to tell the truth.

But Helena had no choice but to give up that practice where Myka was concerned. No choice, and she knew it. Instead, she said, “I thought I was transparent. Can’t you tell?” When all she wanted was to remind Myka, “Of course you can tell. You already have.”

Another wordless stare.

Here they stood, in, or partially in, yet another tasteful foyer. No one’s mother was present, but even so. Helena said, in order to say something, “I am working hard at being good. I am good at working hard but horrible at being good. “

“That’s a conundrum.” Said slowly. As if she were asking Helena to kiss that word from her mouth, taste it, swallow it.

Helena did swallow—a difficult push. “The ethics of the situation. The appearances. The possible consequences. Here we are.”

“Here we are. What if I said I don’t care about the ethics of the situation, or the appearances? The possible consequences...”

“As I believe I said to you previously, I’m not sure I should support your behaving in a way that is apparently wildly out of character.”

“And as I believe I said to you previously, you started it.”

“Didn’t we determine that H. pylori started it?”

“Oh, now you want to blame the bacterium.”

“I want...” Helena began. She looked at Myka’s mouth again, and she thought, If only she would push her way in. Understand these words for the weak non-barriers they are, ignore them, and push her way in. The devil said, If she does it, you are not responsible. If she does it, that is your defense. Provoke her, and you can have what you want. The angel: What a self-serving moral universe you live in. If someone else commits the initial sin, you haven’t sinned as well? Helena said aloud, “I am blaming it. In its absence, we would have remained nothing but... professional associates.”

“Would we?” A lip-twist, one of the smallest and most shrewd. “I thought you said your impulses tended to steer you into trouble.”

Don’t do that smile, Helena wanted to tell her. Actually, don’t do any of them. “And as I also said, I don’t want to drag you there with me. I’ve already been the cause of one city official losing his job.” Keep talking, Helena told herself. Keep talking, and don’t think about how you want to go about stopping her talking or how you want her to stop your talking the same way. Just keep talking. “When this is all over. The project. We could sit down and—”

“You’ll have bid on something else by then. One big project, prove yourself; you’ll get more. That’s the idea.”

“I can’t predict the future. I can’t predict the future, but I am trying to do the right thing. For once.”

“I can’t predict the future either. But I want to do the right thing too. The right thing.”

“When this is all over,” Helena said again, and maybe it was a plea that that would someday be true.

“When this is all over, it’s going to be beautiful,” Myka said.

“The neighborhood, you mean,” Helena said, trying to dismiss any other interpretation.

Myka leaned to Helena then, but she did not push her way in. She came close, and she let her lips skim the skin of Helena’s jawline—not a cheek-kiss. Something different. Something that seemed to want to speak about when this is all over.

But Helena knew, and she knew she needed to remember: When this is all over, better that we didn’t. Because if we did, when that was all over, you would know what a mistake it had been. Because I haven’t changed. How awful it would be, Helena felt, for Myka to look back and associate her with a mistake. She could associate Helena with strange hospital intimacy, that was fine; strange familial masquerade, that as well. She could consider Helena outside the norm, certainly. Not the usual run of cases. Look back and remember me... look back and like to remember me.

****

In the ensuing days and weeks, Helena occupied herself with all the activity that managing a large project required: seeing to a great many details, attending a great many meetings, shaking a great many hands. Explaining a great deal of logistics, obtaining a great deal of buy-in. Ignoring a great deal of everything that did not relate to details, meetings, logistics. Such an approach had always insulated her from the worst consequences of any ill-considered behavior. She remembered, from the aftermath of Giselle, the deep comfort she had taken in putting her shoulders to a massive yoke. The effort was familiar, but where was that comfort now?

She visited the neighborhood site with some frequency, ostensibly observing the progress, but in reality reminding herself of precisely what was meant to matter and what was not... people laboring to realize a vision. Her vision. Her vision, the realization of which was resulting in those people’s continued employment.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked her on one such afternoon. They were regarding the initial framing of the walls of the community center, the model-piece of which still sat, undisturbed, on Helena’s desk. She had told herself that she would put it away once the structure was fully realized... of course she would. No doubt whatsoever. That was what she was waiting for. That was all.

She turned her back on the framing... unfortunately, that directed her gaze to the courtyard that no longer featured a fountain. “How exactly is one meant to balance all the things?” she asked Steve. “What if what you want, and, conversely, what you want—or what you have determined you really have no choice but to accept—which I suppose isn’t want, as such, but a resigning of oneself to a state of affairs—what if those are incompatible?”

“I didn’t follow that even a little. But I really think you’re fretting too much about this.”

Startled, Helena said, “How do you know about it?”

“The fountain? You’ve been ticked off since they nixed it. I’d have had to be in some sensory deprivation tank not to know.”

Helena tried not to sigh with relief. “It isn’t that. Or perhaps it is. I continue to wish... doesn’t it all feel incomplete? Without. It. The fountain.”

“You always say you’re fine with that kind of thing. It’s the most mindful stance you ever take.”

“That is what I always say,” Helena acknowledged. “It’s fine, and I will have to live with that. But it’s incomplete.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re really talking about?”

“No. It’s a good job, this one. This neighborhood.” Refocus, she told herself.

“Making a real difference,” Steve agreed. “I’m sure that’s why you’ve been walking around a building site looking like everything’s falling down.”

“Don’t be philosophical.”

“I have a degree in philosophy,” he reminded her, as he was wont to do. “Besides, I’m pretty sure ‘How is it possible to balance all the things’ is a question only philosophy can answer.” He paused. “Maybe an engineer if you’re talking about balancing things in the physical world. Or a well-trained acrobat?”

“Perhaps I do need one of those. Philosophy certainly isn’t helping.”

“Might, if you’d actually say out loud what you need help with.”

“Better I don’t say it out loud,” Helena said, then heard “Say what out loud?” from directly behind her.

She whirled around to see Abigail Cho. In a hardhat, appropriate for the site of course, although Helena—who was also wearing one, as was Steve—did always feel the hat to be overly costume. As if she were playing the part of an architect. “How ridiculous everyone looks in a hardhat,” she said to Abigail.

“Myka doesn’t look ridiculous in one. She looks cute.”

Helena struggled to utter a calm, “Does she.”

“Oh,” Steve said.

“Don’t ‘oh’ me,” Helena told him.

Abigail, with innocence that might have been real but struck Helena as unconvincing, asked, “Why is he ‘oh’-ing you?”

Steve answered her. “Uh... because I’m a philosopher?” Well, at least he tried.

Abigail nodded. “Say no more.”

“I have found,” Helena told her, “that telling that to a philosopher fails to produce the desired change in behavior.”

“I think my ‘oh’ was pretty succinct,” Steve said.

Helena conceded, though with a sulk, “I suppose you are also a Buddhist.”

“How can you be mad about Buddhism?” Abigail asked her. “You must really be in a mood. Hardhat-hair upsets you that much?”

Steve began, “She’s upset about—” Helena shot him a look, and he stumbled to, “The fountain. From the plans. Not being there.”

“Well. No doubt you know the koan,” Abigail said, and “oh lord no koans” Helena tried to say, but Abigail would not be deterred; with an extremely contented smirk, she said, “Slightly modified for my purposes here, but: first there is a fountain—”

And Steve lit up in response. “Ha! Then there is no fountain.”

“Then there is,” Abigail finished. “Steve, marry me.”

“I think we’d both be happier if I didn’t, what with me being gay,” Steve said, but he continued to smile. “Plus wouldn’t that mean we have a personal relationship?”

Helena was not even tempted to smile. She said, “I have had my fill of hearing about that ridiculous rule. It makes no sense at all! What is a personal relationship?”

Abigail shrugged. “A slippery slope that starts with coffee, as I understand it.” She knocked her knuckles against Helena’s hardhat. “Or maybe bacteria? I’m no expert.”

“Everything starts with bacteria,” Helena muttered.

“And ends with what?” Steve asked.

Abigail shrugged again. “I thought you were supposed to be the philosopher. But let’s see... Helena, what do you like for breakfast?”

“Grapefruit,” Helena uttered, as darkly as she could.

And Abigail shrugged yet again. “So, maybe that. I’ll let Myka know.”

Helena resisted the urge to raise her tablet and whack Abigail’s hardhat. “Why am I here?” she inquired of the universe.

“That’s definitely a question for Steve,” Abigail, or perhaps the universe via Abigail, responded.

“She never likes the answers I give,” Steve sighed.

“She should. Anyone who knows ‘first there is a mountain’ has some pretty good ones, I’m betting. Plus you’re adorable. Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”

“I have a boyfriend. Haven’t I told you that already?”

“Not that I recall, but I bet he’s adorable too.”

“I think so. We’re talking about moving in together.”

“I hope you do. And I hope by then you’ve quit working for Helena, so you can invite me to the housewarming party.”

Helena said, and it was true, “If Steve quits, nothing at all will find itself built. And given that you’ve proposed to him, aren’t you the one at fault for pushing your relationship in that inappropriately personal direction?”

“Well, you’d know,” Abigail said. “But bear in mind that if I get kicked off the project too, you’re either out the door or stuck with my boss, and that’s a devil/deep blue sea proposition, or probably vice versa, because she’s a killer.”

“Literally?” Steve asked. Now he was the startled one.

“Let’s not find out,” Abigail told him.

Helena said, “No, let’s. She could put me out of my misery.”

“Cheer up,” Abigail told her. “I know you’re sad about ‘the fountain,’ but look at it this way: maybe you’re just in the ‘there is no grapefruit’ stage of your practice.”

“We might have to wait a long time for ‘then there is,’” Steve said. “She’s not good at reconciling paradoxes.”

Helena sank back into her sulk. “They resemble conundrums.”

“Conundra,” Abigail said.

“What. Ever,” Helena gritted out, and she considered the minimal extent to which she was likely to miss her tablet if she broke it across Abigail’s hard-hatted head.

As if she sensed Helena’s impulse, Abigail removed her hardhat and polished its crown against her sleeve. “You never know. Enlightenment—and personal relationships!—could be right around the corner.”

“They are not,” Helena said. Some devil was having fun with her. “They had better not be.”

But some devil continued to have fun with Helena, for not a week later she was at City Hall, rushing to make a meeting with a group of civil engineers, and she spotted a quite familiar conundrum emerging from around a corner, a long hallway away. Helena was caught: should she hurry into the meeting room, thus removing herself from a very tempting situation, or should she linger? Surely they could say hello; no one could object to a greeting. An impersonal greeting.

She lingered: one beat, waiting for two, waiting for Myka to make her way down the hall. But Myka instead looked down at the folder she held, stopped moving, then reversed course. She disappeared back around that same corner.

Perhaps she had not even seen Helena... but perhaps she had. Perhaps she had, and perhaps she had now wisely decided that she did care about appearances and consequences.

And perhaps this was that “next stage” that Steve and Abigail had been nattering about: Helena would no longer have to work hard at all at being good, if there no longer happened to be any chance that she would weaken and fail. She supposed she should thank Myka for turning away, regardless of her motivation. But of course she could not thank Myka, not for that or anything else... for she would have a difficult time keeping such thanks from becoming very personal.

****

Very late on a subsequent Friday evening, Helena received a call from Abigail. “This seems a rather personal time to call,” Helena told her, thinking to tease.

“Yeah,” Abigail said, with a tired heaviness—it was appropriate for the hour, but uncharacteristic. Then she asked, “So does that mean you heard?”

“Heard what? Are you all right?” Then a horrible thought: “Is Myka all right?” Preparing to dash for her car, drive to the hospital—

“It’d be a good idea if you never asked that again.”

“What is wrong?”

Abigail sighed. Abigail was not given to sighs. “A lot of things are fun and games. You know, until. But we had this big huge staff meeting this afternoon, practically everybody on the org chart—end of day Friday, of course, so everybody’s got the weekend to cool off—about how somebody in the finance department could have been fired today, but wasn’t.”

“Why does that call for a staff meeting?”

“Because of why he could’ve been fired. See, he’s a single dad. And he met a nice lady at his kid’s school’s PTA meeting a couple weeks ago.”

“That seems... not a firing offense.”

“Turns out she’s a big-deal CPA with the firm that audits and certifies our annual report.”

“He was threatened with firing because they said hello at a PTA meeting?”

“No. Because they slept together after that PTA meeting.”

“Oh,” Helena said, and in response to Abigail’s audible exhale, she added, “so why wasn’t he in fact fired?”

“Because they didn’t check each other’s résumés before they did it. So they claim.”

“And that claim was deemed plausible?”

“Anyway the point of my story is, it was a public shaming. There’s ethics and there’s ethics, I guess, and exposing people’s extremely private business in order to deter other people from bad-behavior business is something we’ve got no problem with.”

“But surely that’s actionable, to expose someone like that. Publicly.”

“Maybe so. But even if you can sue afterward, the humiliation still happened.” Abigail paused. “So I also want to take this opportunity to point out that Myka’s still not really over how awful she feels about her blood-and-guts meeting with just the two of you.”

“You’d like me to put two and two together,” Helena said. Abigail didn’t say anything, so Helena went on, “Because you want to make sure that nothing like a public shaming ever happens to her.”

“Fun and games. Until. It’s not that I wouldn’t rather hassle you sunup to sundown, but I don’t want anybody who isn’t in on the joke to get the wrong idea. And not to get too personal right here right now, but if you actually do care about her at all, I just think—”

“No.”

“You don’t actually care about her?”

“No, I mean ‘no, I won’t let that happen to her.’” Helena looked at the model-piece on her desk. She considered the strong wind against which the poor trees fought. “Of course I care about her. And before you warn me: no, I won’t let anyone else hear me say that.”

“Thanks.”

“What I will do is ask to see a résumé if I meet anyone new,” Helena said. It would certainly be just like her to actively reject something she wanted, in order to head off a suite of problems, only to crash obliviously through the door of an identically appointed suite.

“Planning on going out?”

“I think you know me well enough to know that isn’t likely to be true.” And she supposed that if she kept to that, no problems of that sort could ever arise again. A monkishly simple solution.

“I don’t know you at all,” Abigail said, with another sigh. “As far as anybody’s concerned, I don’t know you at all.”

Helena assured her, “I don’t know you either.” Abigail would most likely recover her good nature, once this pulse of pessimism had faded, but the news was nevertheless sobering. “Perhaps I will start going out,” she said, just to make herself feel worse.

“Who could blame you?” Abigail gloomed.

Myka could... but Helena had been foolish to hold out any sort of hope. And if she had been wishing for some continuation of their charade, no matter how farcical? Well, as Abigail had said, a lot of things were fun and games. Until.

****

Monday morning: early Monday morning. A fresh start. A correct start. Even the model trees seemed more upright. Helena beheld them with clear purpose; the community center would be completed in not very long.

Her telephone rang, and “Hi,” she heard from it, after a tree-distracted swipe. It had been flat on the desk, on speaker, but she immediately snatched it up, lest anyone happen to walk into her office and recognize the voice emanating from it.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

“Is that a trick question? I think I’m making a phone call,” Myka said.

“I know you were in that staff meeting Abigail told me about. I know it. Can you credibly claim that you failed to process that information? Or that you forgot it, between Friday evening and this morning? You cannot possibly have developed amnesia over the weekend. Can we say that you called me in error? Would anyone find that plausible? For that is what you must have done.” Stalling, backpedaling, trying to disguise her joy at hearing Myka’s voice. Trying to be stern in the face of that joy, for she had spent the weekend getting over it. Putting it behind her. But now here it was, in her ear and not all behind her, here as if Myka were here right beside her, in fact, speaking directly into her ear. If Helena imagined carefully enough, she could feel Myka’s breath.

“No, I’m pretty sure I hit all the right numbers. Given that you’re exactly the person I want to talk to.”

Her voice her voice her voice: exactly the sound Helena wanted to hear. But she said, “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Myka responded, and Helena could hear her smile. “Because I need your help again. Don’t worry; no one will know.”

“I should tell you no.” Making that clear to herself as well as to Myka.

“You should,” Myka agreed. “Or just hang up on me.”

Helena did consider it. Semi-seriously. That consideration stretched into a great pause. “Why am I not doing that?”

Myka herself took an even greater pause. As if she could come up with no real reason? But then she said, “Because you think you should help me. Everything else aside, you think you should help me.”

I think I can only hurt you. “I saved your life, so now I’m responsible for you?” She tried to make it sound dismissive.

“No... wouldn’t that make Rick responsible for me?”

Of all the things Myka could have said, that was exactly right or exactly wrong, but in any case it made Helena leap to an indignant, “He certainly is not.”

“Then I think that leaves you.”

“Fine.” She said it quickly, but she knew she should not have been so eager to agree. Not now, when it was clearly no longer fun and games. But perhaps Myka was right: no one would know... “When and where? Is it your mother again?” And surely Myka’s mother would be safe enough...

“This time it’s just Rick.” Lovely, Helena sneered in her head. “He’s got a new girlfriend, another resident at the hospital, and he wants me to meet her. And obviously it would make no sense for me to meet her without you there too.”

“No sense,” Helena echoed. It was her most truly sensical utterance in, she felt, some time, so she repeated it: “No sense. So you and Rick are... what are you and Rick? Friends?”

“Honestly? Two people who’ve known each other since elementary school and started remembering that that was the important part. Not the stupid mistakes.”

“I suppose I can respect that. And support it.” And thus she talked herself fully into—well, into whatever it was she was going to do. “Also I suppose I’m pleased to know that he has a girlfriend, so perhaps he’ll ease off the digs at me.”

Such a trifling thing to express concern about, but it made Myka laugh. “You can take it. You’re tough.”

“I can take it. I don’t believe I should have to.” But Helena said these words while entirely preoccupied by the way Myka said “You’re tough.” Amused and familiar, with a little (possibly) flirty push on the word tough.

“I’ll give him a stern talking-to about it. How’s that?” Another little (possibly) flirty push, here on the word that.

“Do it in my presence and you have a deal.” Helena could easily see this reward being worth the risk. How stupidly telling.

“Wholly done. So I’ll see you? This Saturday, around six?”

“You will. Against my better judgment.”

“Against anything you want. Your better judgment, a wall—”

“All odds,” Helena interrupted. “Interpretation. The grain, the clock, the law.” Against anything but a wall, because dear god, imagining herself and Myka...

“The tide,” Myka said, and Helena breathed out. But then Myka added, “Pretty futile.”

****

Helena didn’t speak often with her brother. Charles still lived in England, and neither he nor she traveled across the ocean with any great frequency; nor were they particularly adept at managing the time-zone problems that stood in the way of technologically mediated speech. They engaged in occasional spates of email exchanges, during which they would send lengthy discussions of some topic back and forth daily for a week, or even two, but then one or the other would be overtaken by demands on her or his time, and the conversation would snap wherever it happened to snap.

So she knew when she called him, as she did not long after agreeing to Myka’s latest scheme, that he would understand that she understood the call to be as much a distress signal as a treat—although it was certainly as much the latter as the former. She was thus not surprised by his first words upon answering: “If you have a terminal disease, tell me at once.”

“I do not have a terminal disease,” she reported. “Other than life itself, from which we all suffer.”

“Excellent news. Or tragic, I suppose, terminal as we are. Have you committed a crime?”

“Not to the best of my knowledge. Wait, I take it back: I do still drive too fast, always, so yes, I have committed near-continual moving violations. Are those criminal?”

“No idea. But you haven’t been caught. Lately, that is.”

“No, as yet only the once.”

“So why are we talking? In this dramatic, real-time, voice-to-voice fashion? In what predicament do we find ourselves?”

“We find ourselves wanting to ask you a question,” she said.

“I don’t see how that’s a predicament.”

“It isn’t. The question is related to the predicament.”

“Am I part of the predicament?”

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then ask away.”

Helena had composed her question with care: “How did you fall in love with Jane?” she asked.

“I don’t believe falling in love is a ‘how’ question.”

I love my brother, Helena reminded herself. “Trust you to dispute the premise. What sort of question is it then?”

“A yes or no. So I’ll ask you: Have you fallen in love? Yes or no?”

Helena weighed possible ways of answering. None of them involved “yes” or “no.”

“Well?” Charles prodded.

“Here is how this is meant to go,” Helena told him. “You explain how you fell in love with Jane, and I say ‘What an enormous relief! That isn’t what happened in my case; ergo, I have not fallen in love.’”

“I suspect there are as many ‘what happened’ stories surrounding falling in love as there are stars in the sky. Sorry, that was a cliché. What else is unimaginably numerous?”

Helena sighed. “Bacteria in a colony. Growing in a nonexistent fountain.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Helena said.

“First, whoever she is, give her my regards. Second, give her my sympathy. But third, tell me all about how beautiful she is—incidentally, why haven’t you sent a photo?—and detail all the ways she is everything you ever dreamed of but for which you never dared wish, for fear that—”

“Stop. She is beautiful. We can leave it at that. I certainly never thought to dream of her.”

Now Charles sighed. “Similarly, I never thought to dream of Jane.”

“You were not attending when I explained how this is meant to go.”

“Pfft. Attending when you explain how any thing is meant to go, what would be the point of that? Now tell me all.”

So she did. Plans and models and blood and fountains; hospitals and fiancées and cancer and mothers. The intended next deception. “And so now, again,” she concluded, “I find myself in the position of having to pretend to be pretending to be something I in fact already am.”

“I am so happy that all Jane and I had to work through, at the moment of our beginning, was that minor traffic accident.”

“She completely destroyed your car.”

Charles, still cheerful, said, “As far as I can ascertain, from my story and now yours, destructive capability is what a Wells looks for in a woman. We tell ourselves pretty stories about beauty and intellect, when what we really want is a wrecking ball.”

“Beauty and intellect are certainly not lacking, in Jane’s case or Myka’s.”

“I’m not saying we find them unnecessary. Just not sufficient.”

When they said their goodbyes, he chided her again for not having sent a photo. “I don’t have one,” she told him. She did not want to direct him to the news photos—she had looked at them more than once since the hospital, and every time she did, their unrepresentative nature struck her anew. If Charles saw them, he would get the wrong idea... not that it mattered one way or the other what idea he got, but it would do Myka an injustice.

“In this age of incessant representation? Come now.”

“She’s private,” Helena said.

“Find a way.”

Helena thought, I would like to. I would like to hold in my hands a great number of truly representative photos of her and gaze upon them. I would like to gaze upon her, never mind the photos. And do more than gaze... but I should not be thinking about this. Why is my brother so unhelpful?

“Why are you so unhelpful?” she asked aloud.

He pounced. “Aha! Yet another symptom: an inability to see how helpful others are in fact being. I thought you extremely unhelpful when you advised me to simply tell Jane that I wanted to see her again, rather than undertake my elaborate plan to get her attention by destroying her car in return.”

“I have no elaborate plan to destroy Myka’s car.”

“Make one at once, so I can talk you out of it.”

“You are useless.”

“But mar-ried to the wo-man of my dree-eams,” he sing-songed. “Those dreams I never thought to dream.”

“Useless.”

“Married!”

“Poor Jane. Give her my love.”

“And give Myka mine! She sounds lovely. Also send a photo, so I can judge for myself.”

“There is no reason for me to do that.”

“The quite compelling reason is that your unhelpful, useless brother has requested that you do so. Tell her that and take her picture, you coward.”

But doing so would mean revealing to Myka that she had spoken with her unhelpful, useless brother about Myka. That was a capitulation to reality that Helena could not allow.

She envisioned it nonetheless, again and again: “Smile,” she would say, and smile was what Myka would do. And “Why?” was what Myka would ask, but she would not cease from smiling, even as Helena explained about her unhelpful, useless brother... and Helena also envisioned, again and again and yet again, how Myka would smile once more, and once more not cease, on an imaginary future day when Helena offered the real explanation: Because I never thought to dream of you.

TBC

Note: I tried mightily to work into this part a joke about, or at least a reference to, the fact that the 1967 song “There Is a Mountain,” which incorporates “First there is a mountain; then there is no mountain; then there is,” is by Donovan. Given that Claudia isn’t a character here, I figured I could manage some sort of complicated shout-out... but I was tying the Abigail-Steve-Helena conversation in extra knots trying to get there, so here it is in a note instead. The song itself is pretty trippy, and it probably necessitates some careful thinking about cultural appropriation (and whether flutes were really quite that necessary in late-60s pop arrangements); also I probably should have resisted my “first there is a fountain” not-exactly-joke regardless, but I do mean it to be more meaningful than it may at first appear. I generally mean a lot of things to be more meaningful than they may at first appear.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Helicobacter #part 6 #AU week #we humans are always getting ourselves into predicaments #in which we want two contradictory things to be true #but a lot of things happen in due time #I ran across an old page of notes the other day #I can't even remember what project it was for #but one quotation said the following:#'the universe's delays are not the universe's denials'#and I'm trying to take that to heart #even though it is at the same time true #that urgent action is often necessary #so as is additionally true in life #a lot comes down to categories #and determining what goes where

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bakuvantea · 3 years

Text

slime tensei imgns!

- synopsis: sneaking in the hot springs to bathe with the best boys

- includes: rimuru, benimaru, and souei

- special appearances from: shuna, shion, gobta, hakurou (for the shts and giggles lmao)

- warnings: slight nsfw implications in beni’s part

-•-

r i m u r u

oh to be the lover of a man loved by many, it can truly be a bother at times

example being your current situation

rimuru was in his human form, trapped between shuna and shion who were giving him remarks and praises about how well he gave his speech to the delegates from yuurazania

now, how will you take your man for yourself

using thought communication, you said to him, “i invited you over here for us to have a moment to ourselves, do explain why shuna and shion are also here with us, hmm? oh great rimuru-sama.”

you saw him flinch, slowly looking over to you who was sitting down a good 5 meters away from where he was

he smiled, making you scoff and roll your eyes

also using thought communication he replied, “(name) i’m sorry! i didn’t think anyone saw me come in here, but alas they followed me to the bath and before i had a chance to explain it was already too late! im sorry (name)! i really am!”

you then looked over to the two kijins, an idea suddenly appearing out of thin air, you smirked and said out loud, “oh dear, it seems rimuru is hungry from bathing for far too long. shuna, shion, would you two be a dear and grab some food for him? you have my utmost thanks.”

you then listed all sorts of rare and hard to cook cuisines to keep them occupied for a good five hours or so

the two kijins smiled and replied, “of course (name)-sama!”

they then glared at each other, immediately running out of the bath to fetch some food and be the first one to give them to rimuru

you smiled victoriously, “finally!”

rimuru swam closer to you and hugged your side, sighing he said, “you’re so warm.”

wrapping your arms around him, you kissed the top of his head and said, “love, we’re in a hot springs, what do you expect?”

dismissing your sarcastic reply, he kissed your lips, parting just enough for his lips to still touch yours, he said; “your hugs will always be the best.”

-•-

b e n i m a r u

benimaru sighed in content as he dipped further into the hot springs designated for gentlemen

it was a pretty rough day, some overconfident human visitors thought it would be wise to try and pick a fight with him

he scoffed, it seems that their survival instincts needed some tweaking, seeing that they failed to see the murder seething from his eyes

after that encounter he had to train the kurenai elite troops in order to prepare for upcoming battles and to strengthen the defense and offense of the jura tempest federation

it truly was such a tiring day

“psst!”

benimaru opened his eyes, he was now standing in the bath, looking to every direction trying to determine the location of the noise when he suddenly felt a heavy weight from behind him, his body plunged forward into the hot springs and he heard laughter as he gasped for air

finally escaping from the deathly grip, he turned around and saw you giggling, saying “sorry” and “oh jura, you look like a hot mess”

he groaned, “(name) what are you doing here in the men’s bath?” yet even as he tries to look annoyed, one cannot deny how his eyes softened when he saw you

“i was looking for you, then i bumped into rimuru-san, he told me he saw you walking here and so i followed suit,” you replied as you scooted closer to him, beginning to play with his dampened locks

“dearest, someone could come in here any second now, we are sure to be teased by the others if they saw our current predicament!”

flicking his forehead and receiving an ‘oi!’ from him, you then replied saying, “oh don’t worry your pretty ‘lil head love, i asked rimuru-sama if we can have the baths to ourselves for the evening and he agreed, he even told us to have fun.”

benimaru shook his head, pulling you closer to him he said, “well then, if rimuru-sama said so, then who am i to disobey?”

trailing kisses down your neck to your chest he thought to himself, ‘its going to be a long evening’

-•-

s o u e i

you were already in the women's bath when you heard rimuru and souei's voice from the other side

he wasn't one to indulge himself, always claiming that he'll be on the look-out for enemies and anything out of the ordinary in the jura tempest territory

you assumed that rimuru may have scolded him and ordered the kijin to go take a break in the hot bath. hearing rimuru bid farewell, you then started to speak, "souei! are you alone over there?"

"(name), i didn't know you were there. to answer your question, yes i am alone. rimuru-sama left since he has urgent business to attend to."

you smiled

nice!

"i'll go over there!"

"this is the men's bath (name). it is not appropriate for a young woman to be seen bathing with a man like myself."

"oh you and your uptight self! relax for a bit okay? if anybody sees us, then they'd know better than to interrupt, and when have i ever followed tradition?"

"hmm, i guess so"

you stood up and used shadow motion to go to the men's bath

appearing near a bamboo tree, you smiled at him and walked over to where he was sitting, dipping yourself in the water you sighed in content

just as he was about to embrace your figure, he heard a shriek and a chuckle

"i-i'm sorry! (name)-san and souei-san!" the both of you saw gobta kneeling down holding the towel covering his body tightly as he continuously bowed and asked for forgiveness

beside him was hakurou, smirking at souei as if saying, "ayeee, my man getting that-"

"oho ho! me and my student will leave now, it seems that we have disturbed you two," dragging gobta by his ear (he was still saying a barrage of apologies) the master and student then left you two to your own devices

souei sighed, this wasn't really how he envisioned a 'relaxing evening' to transpire to

but with you now wrapped in his embrace, he doesn't think its half bad

yep, it really wasn't, he thought when you started nuzzling his naked chest

-•-

hope ya’ll liked it!!

-winamiko

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radical-revolution · 1 year

Text

HOW DO WE LIBERATE OURSELVES FROM THE POWER OF OTHERS?

I had given him the power to define who I am. I had looked in his eyes literally and said, “Am I enough?” and he said, “No.”

By the time I had finished the meditation, I could bring him to mind, and I felt that my heart didn’t close down, but could stay open.

-Ram Dass

***

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skaldish · 2 years

Text

Shadow-Work Pick-a-Pile

Before you are three images. Each represents a two-card tarot draw that addresses something about the Shadow—the parts of the self we hide from ourselves.

Choose one or multiple images that speaks to you, if any. Then click the "Keep Reading" link to see your fortune.

[Disclaimer: Please remember this is just a game and this reading is completely impersonal. I'll also discourage anyone from playing who's not in a calm and oriented state of mind, or otherwise not in the mood for introspection.]

Pile I

ACE OF WANDS (Reversed)

SIX OF PENTACLES

You can't reach the mountaintop by ignoring the foothills.

Human beings are forces of creativity and inspiration. But at times it can feel like the universe conspires against our pursuits. Right now we want so badly to actualize our ideas, but for some reason it's just not happening.

Pile 1 reminds us that the universe won't hand us results simply because we really, really want them. Every pursuit, no matter how passionate we are for them, has a process. If we ignore this process, try to skip it, or try to take shortcuts, we'll only find ourselves stuck and directionless. This is not the universe "punishing" us, but the natural outcome of cutting corners.

We need to accept there's dirty work involved with every pursuit; beginner things, boring things, ugly things, unglamorous things, difficult things, tedious things, delayed things, and things that are simply not gratifying. But the moment we do is the moment we can start producing real results.

Take some time to contend with this, and a path will open up to you.

Pile II

DEATH (Reversed)

KNIGHT OF CUPS

Change cannot be stalled with illusions.

Pile 2 is about resisting change. Specifically, it's about making up reasons to keep something the same, whether the nature of that "something" is physical, mental, social, or spiritual.

But now it's time to question the merit of these reasons. To what degree do these justifications hold truth? The mind is a powerful tool, but it can tell us many lies: That we've lost before we've even begun, that something that was true in the past is still true in the present, that something is impossible because it's never been accomplished, etc.

It's normal for us to resist change, and it's okay to fear it for no specific reason. But change is an inevitable part of life, and we need to go through changes to grow as people. If we chronically refuse change by crafting arguments against it, we risk walling ourselves up in a narrative of our own design.

Change doesn't need to sudden, nor do we have to abandon all discernment when confronted with it. But Pile 2 reminds us that there's a difference between "exercising caution" and "finding reasons to stay put."

Work on collaborating with the principle of change as opposed to ignoring it. When the unknown becomes known, it becomes a lot less terrifying.

Pile III

ACE OF PENTACLES (Reversed)

SIX OF SWORDS (Reversed)

A golden cage is still a cage.

Pile 3 suggests you've tried to make a difficult situation "work" for you for some time now because you depend it for security. However, it's time to accept the truth about your predicament: You're spending too much energy on something that just isn't serving you, and it's simply not worth it anymore.

We can convince ourselves to stay in lousy situations for one reason or another: We keep a toxic partner because we think we won't find love otherwise, we fake a persona for fear of displeasing people, we stay in an hostile work environment out of concern we won't get hired elsewhere, we tolerate a dysfunctional living situation because we don't know where else to go, etc.

But sacrificing your agency for security is just trading one kind of security for another. No one can truly feel safe and sound by doing this. Additionally, no healthy situation would ask you to make such an egregious trade.

Finding security elsewhere may seem like an impossible task, but Pile 3 would like to remind you that you always have a choice. It may be a difficult choice, and acting upon the choice may bring a period of instability with it, but no storm, no matter how great, lasts forever. Calm waters and blue skies await you outside of the golden cage.

Take a moment to contemplate what is no longer serving you.

---

[All images made with Wombo Dream AI]

#pick a pile #shadow work #tarot #you have been warned #also do let me know how I did #this is my first time making one of these

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baepsaesbae · 3 years

Text

Taming Temerity

Pairing— Min Yoongi x reader

Genre— SMUT +18, incubus!Yoongi, demon au, Valentine’s Day au

Warnings— Dom!Yoongi, brat!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, hickies, shibari, tickling huehuehue, swearing, explicit unprotected sex (use protection when fucking a demon), ass slapping, creampie

Word Count— 4.3k

/təˈmerədē/: excessive confidence or boldness; audacity || You try explaining Valentine’s Day to Min Yoongi, your incubus boyfriend that feeds on your sexual energy. At first he doesn’t understand the point, but if it’ll make you horny then he’s willing to do anything.

A/N— This fic is part of the Valentine’s Day collab Be My Bangtanvine with @kimtaehyunq @ppersonna @ughseoks @jinned @joontopia and @feliix. Make sure to check out their stories too!

“I never understood this holiday. You know it’s just a corporate scam for suckers like you, right?” Yoongi expressed his disdain as his gaze fell on the extravagant Valentine’s Day section in the grocery store.

“So you’ve mentioned, Mr. Party Pooper,” you rolled your eyes, “Some people just like getting chocolates and flowers from their partners. I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Do you want chocolates and flowers? I can get them for you any time, just say the word,” Yoongi offered.

“That’s the point, it should be a little surprise. I wouldn’t have to ask you to do anything,” you tried to explain.

“At that point you’re already expecting something, doesn’t that just defeat the purpose?” your companion was genuinely confused.

“You know what? I don’t expect a demon like you to get it,” you were getting frustrated.

“No need to throw the ‘D’ word around like that. I’m an incubus sure, but we specialize in lust, not love. However, I’m always down to try new things. You of all people should know that,” he ended suggestively.

You started to think about how your relationship started with Yoongi. Your body went on autopilot mode on the drive back home as flashbacks flooded your mind.

It all started about six months ago when you randomly started to have sleep paralysis consistently. You’d foolishly open your eyes and see a dark figure in the corner of your room that gradually came closer before settling on top of you. The extra weight on your chest made it hard to breathe. Once it got to that point, your eyelids would close and you’d be whisked away to a sensual dream. You’d wake up refreshed and energized, completely forgetting about the terrifying events that led up to your wet dream.

One night, you miraculously were able to break the cycle. As soon as the dark figure approached the bed, you threw a pillow at it. At that point, you weren’t sure if you were in a dream or not, but you dashed to turn on your bedroom lights. The light revealed a man standing frozen in place by your bed. You remember screaming for help and shouting things about a pervert stalker.

“Help! Somebody help there’s an intruder! Someone please--” suddenly your mouth refused to open.

“Well this is awkward,” the man rubbed the back of his neck, “Let’s get a few things out of the way first. I’m not a pervert or a stalker. In fact, I’m not even human, I’m an incubus. A new one at that.”

Your eyes widened in horror at the mention of a demonic entity. You backed up into a wall trying to get away from him while muffled screams desperately tried to escape from your sealed lips.

“I’m sure you have a few questions. Normally I would just put you to sleep but you’re wide awake now and honestly I don’t have the kind of mana to deal with all that. So we’ve found ourselves in quite the predicament,” the demon sighed as he sat on your bed. With a wave of his hand, your mouth was finally able to open again.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re a demon? This must be a dream right?” you were bewildered.

“Come sit by me, I can show you that I’m real,” the demon patted the bed.

“Trusting a self proclaimed demon is probably a bad idea but this is just a weird dream anyway,” you reasoned out loud as you sat beside the intruder.

The man raised one of his hands to cup your cheek; you shuddered at his cold touch. Something changed when you looked into his eyes. Suddenly, you felt like kissing this total stranger. In fact, you felt a lust that you’ve never felt before. Before you knew it, you were straddling the man, rubbing your crotch against his as you passionately made out.

“Lay back and take off your pants, dear,” he commanded. You did as he said without hesitation.

The man licked his lips as he spread open your legs. He slowly dragged a finger along your covered slit. Pulling your panties aside, he dove in tongue first, causing you to shudder at the warm and wet sensation. His tongue flicked around between your folds as his thumb began to circle your clit. Pleasure coursed throughout your body as your hands entangled themselves in his hair. You felt two hard protruding bumps atop his head...horns?

“Reaching for my horns already? Naughty girl,” the man smirked as he inserted a finger into your wet pussy. You squirmed at his action. It wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Oh? What’s wrong?” he asked with fake innocence as he slowly finger fucked you, “Is one not enough? Do you need more?” You silently nodded in response.

“Nuh uh, I need to hear you say it,” he teased.

“Please, I need more,” you begged as you helplessly tried to grind against his one finger.

“Hm one finger isn’t enough huh? How about two?” he added in his middle finger as you moaned, “Or do you want three?”

His ring finger slid in with ease. Finally, you felt full; lewd sounds escaped from your lips. Your back arched as he picked up his pace, curling his fingers into you with every pump. Something tight wound up in you, indicating that you were close to your high.

“Keep going. Faster,” you panted as your legs began to shake.

“Your wish is my command,” he obliged. You cried out as your orgasm hit you. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body as he slammed his fingers into you a final time, leaving his fingers pressed up against your g-spot to prolong the event.

You focused on catching your breath while the alleged demon smiled down at you. It wasn’t a creepy smile, it was one of triumph. His fingers were still inside of you.

“You can pull them out now,” you said weakly.

“I tried. Your tight little pussy is clamped onto them. See?” he showed you how your lips stayed gripped onto his fingers, “If I can’t pull them out, I might as well go back in.”

He pushed his fingers back in, making you gasp. You were still extremely sensitive, any movement of his would push you over the edge yet again.

“If you do that-- fuck-- I’ll come again,” you warned him.

“Let’s see how many you can handle,” the man challenged as he picked up his speed yet again.

You came three times that night. All just to his hand and occasionally his mouth. The demon looked satisfied with his work as you laid blissed out before him. He slunk down beside you, laying on his side with his head propped up on his arm.

“These got bigger,” you observed as you reached for his horns. The tiny black stumps had grown longer and had a more defined horn shape. They felt cool to the touch and were ridged, similar to those of a ram.

“They’re not the only things that got bigger,” he winked, “This is where my mana is stored. Essentially I get stronger when I consume energy.”

“Consume energy? Are you going to eat me?” you questioned with intrigue. You still believed you were in a strange dream.

“Already did. I told you, I’m an incubus. We feed off of sexual energy. I rather enjoyed the meal. It’s too bad this will be the last time I can see you though,” he pouted.

“What? Why can’t you visit me in my dreams like you normally do?” you could get used to having dreams like this.

“Because you know that I exist. After tonight, you’ll forget all about me and I’ll get reassigned to a different human,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Does that mean I’ll get another incubus demon?”

“Not exactly. There are many different kinds of beings that dwell in the underworld. You could get any one of them. Most of them aren’t as fun or as handsome as me though,” he tried to lighten the conversation.

“I don’t want to forget you, nor do I want this dream to end,” you admitted.

“Silly girl, you still think this is a dream? There actually might be a way to have me stay with you. All you have to do is make a contract with me. Interested?” the demon offered.

“A contract? Am I gonna be selling my soul to you or something? I would prefer to keep that if possible,” you tried to joke.

“I’m not that kind of demon. The contract would simply bind us together. You let me consume all of your sexual energy and I give you the best orgasms you’ll ever have. Seems like a fair deal to me,” he explained.

“So I’ll basically have a demon boyfriend? I don’t mind that, sign me up,” you nodded. You were groggy at this point and your eyelids were getting heavy.

“Boyfriend? I suppose you could put it that way. Let’s seal this deal with a kiss,” he suggested. He leaned in to your already puckered up lips. He paused mere centimeters from your face, “I’m Yoongi by the way. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.”

You pulled him in for a soft kiss, “Hey Yoongi, I’m ___. I guess I’m your girlfriend now.”

“Whatcha thinking about?” Yoongi interrupted your thoughts.

“About the night we met,” you answered as you pulled into your driveway.

“That was a good night. You were so cute when you called yourself my girlfriend,” he smiled.

“Shut up, I thought it was all a dream,” you said defensively as you unloaded the groceries.

“I was thinking about Valentine’s Day as you were driving in silence. I wanna give it a try. I don’t get the hype, but if it will make you happy then I’m willing to go along with it,” Yoongi stated.

“Really?” your mouth opened with excitement, “Do I need to plan the date or are you taking the reins on this one?”

“I’ll start doing my research now,” Yoongi gave you a thumbs up.

“Rise and shine gorgeous~” Yoongi sing songed as he opened the blinds.

You retreated back under the covers to shield yourself from the light. Yoongi tugged at the edge, making you even more aggravated. Curling up into a ball in the fetal position was your last line of defense. Once Yoongi flung off the blanket, you were done for.

“To start off your very best Valentine’s Day ever, I present you a bouquet,” Yoongi shoved a bundle of red roses in your face, causing you to sneeze. A few petals violently detached and fluttered helplessly onto the bed.

“Thanks Yoongi, the flowers are pretty,” you managed to say with a stuffy nose, “I wish I could adore them more but flowers always trigger my allergies.”

“Hm, every romance film I watched always showed the girl loving roses,” Yoongi pondered, “Not to worry, my algorithm is flawless.”

“Are you a robot now?” you joked. The sweet smell of syrup and waffles caught your attention. Yoongi noticed this and excitedly yanked you out of bed. Normally you would bicker about the manhandling but you decided to let today be an exception.

The living room was filled with pink and white heart shaped balloons. Yoongi dragged you to the breakfast table, where the usual placemats were replaced with red hearts and small metallic heart shaped confetti were sprinkled all across the surface. To top it off, the belgian waffles were heart shaped, outlined with whipped cream and topped with strawberries. The presentation rivaled that of an actual restaurant.

Yoongi watched expectantly as you took the first bite. Your mouth turned into a smile as you tasted the fluffy waffle. The toppings complemented the dish perfectly, and you were hungry for more.

“I made eggs and bacon too, though it was hard to get the eggs into a heart shape,” Yoongi sighed as he showed you his attempt to get heart sunny side eggs. The shape was wonky but it was impressive that the yolks were still well intact.

“I don’t care what they look like, I’m sure they’ll taste great. Thank you, Yoongi, this is incredible,” you showered him with compliments as you continued to eat. Yoongi smiled with satisfaction as he took a sip of coffee, his favorite choice of sustenance from the human realm.

“Enjoying your Valentine’s Day so far?” he asked from across the table.

“I’ve only been awake for about 5 minutes but it’s been pretty good so far,” you nodded.

“Well whenever you’re ready, go get ready for a day out,” Yoongi winked, “Dress however you want, it’ll be casual.”

You couldn’t help but wonder about what Yoongi had planned for the day. It was still a little chilly, so you put on a cute sweater paired with jeans. You accessorized with a beret and your favorite jewelry pieces. Yoongi waited for you in the living room, and his eyes lit up when he saw you. It wasn’t the usual dark lustful look he normally gave you, but rather one of fondness and genuine adoration.

“Where are we off to now?” you asked in the passenger seat, which was a rare sight. Yoongi didn’t like to drive, he always complained about how it would be easier to just teleport. You always had to remind him that humans do not simply ‘teleport’ places and you’d surely turn a lot of heads if you did. Regardless, you enjoyed watching Yoongi drive. You admired his delicate features as he concentrated on the road.

“Can’t tell you, that you ruin the surprise,” Yoongi chided.

Your eyes widened as he pulled into the parking lot of the local aquarium. It had been years since you last visited, and you were thrilled that Yoongi picked this place as a date spot.

“The aquarium! Ah, I’m so excited! But they aren’t inherently romantic, what made you think of coming here?” you questioned.

“I remember you mentioned wanting to come back here someday. I figured today would be a good time,” he shrugged. Yoongi’s thoughtfulness made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Once inside, you took the liberty of pointing out every fish you thought looked pretty to Yoongi. He was amused by how much you enjoyed something as simple as looking at fish. Colorful fish chased each other around their tanks, darting between corals and other underwater plants. You loved watching them go about their lives as they vibed within the aquarium.

“It would be nice to be a fish,” you said to Yoongi as you stared in awe at jellyfish that were nearly transparent as they carelessly floated around.

“A fish? Why?” Yoongi scoffed.

“They seem happy, and free in a way. All they do is swim around and eat, that sounds like a good time to me,” you explained.

“And worry about getting eaten by a bigger fish. I’d rather be a cat if I had to be any animal,” Yoongi countered.

“Okay, that’s probably a better choice,” you laughed as you imagined Yoongi as a cat. It fit him surprisingly well.

After leaving the aquarium, Yoongi suggested walking to a nearby gelato shop. You were never one to turn down dessert, so you agreed. The air was crisp and the cold made your cheeks go slightly numb, but you didn’t mind. You happily swung Yoongi’s hand back and forth in yours, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been on a date that went this well.

“___?” a voice called out to you. You looked around to see who called you. Out of nowhere, someone ran up and hugged you from behind. You let go of Yoongi’s hand in the commotion as you were spun around.

“What the--” you said in shock. Finally you were put down, and saw a familiar face grinning back at you.

“Oh my god, Jungkook!” you exclaimed as you hugged him back. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s been forever! I didn’t know you still lived here,” you said.

“I know right?! God, like 13 years or something? I’m here visiting some old pals. We’re all single so we’re celebrating this stupid holiday together,” Jungkook laughed.

“Aww that's cute. I guess this holiday is pretty dumb, but I’m actually celebrating it with someone this year! This is Yoongi,” you introduced Jungkook to your boyfriend.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook,” the young boy extended a hand.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi replied curtly as he firmly shook Jungkook’s hand.

“Damn, where are you hiding all that muscle?” Jungkook joked as he clutched his hand.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Yoongi deadpanned.

“How long are you in town for? I’d love to catch up with you on another day,” you interrupted.

“I’ll be here for a few more days. Is your number still the same? I can text you tomorrow?” Jungkook offered.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you around!” you waved goodbye and returned your attention to Yoongi.

You took a hold of his hand and continued walking to the gelato shop. Yoongi was noticeably quiet now, and his demeanor had completely changed. There was an awkward silence between you two as you ordered your favorite flavors. You both sat outside to eat the gelato.

“So who was he?” Yoongi finally spoke.

“Jungkook used to be my neighbor when we were kids. We practically grew up together. He moved away sometime in middle school and I haven’t seen him since. He looks great, I almost didn’t recognize him. What? Are you jealous?” you teased.

“I almost killed him when he kissed you,” Yoongi said in a tone that let you know that he was not kidding.

“Yoongi! People greet each other that way sometimes. Sure, it was a little forward, but we used to be best friends as kids,” you scolded him.

“Ready to go home?” Yoongi asked, completely disregarding your explanation.

“Okay let’s go back you big baby,” you sighed as you threw away your trash.

You hummed along with the radio all the way home. Yoongi didn’t say anything the whole ride. You were surprised by his behavior, you figured an incubus wouldn’t mind seeing affection in public. He had never given you the silent treatment before, so this was uncharted waters.

“Today was really nice, I think you did a good job planning out our Valentine’s day together,” you praised Yoongi as you returned home.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Yoongi said coldly.

“Why are you being so pouty? C’mere, let me give the big baby a hug,” you reached for him with outstretched arms.

“You think I’d let you get away with that kind of behavior?” an annoyed Yoongi glared back at you.

“C’mon, it’s not like it really matters,” you teased, trying to push your luck.

“It matters to me. You’re mine,” Yoongi snarled, baring his fangs.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” you tilted your neck, revealing marks from his previous feedings, “I can’t leave the house without a crap ton of concealer to cover up your monstrous hickeys.”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be my permanent lover,” Yoongi shrugged, his anger dissipating.

“Who knew dating an incubus would be so tiresome,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“So that random guy kissing your cheeks doesn’t deserve to die?” he asked quietly.

“No! I told you, we’re childhood friends. I haven’t seen him in years. It’s okay to greet close friends with a friendly peck on the cheeks” you crossed your arms, “You’re being annoying. No dinner for you tonight,” you said confidently as you both entered the bedroom.

“Oh? Since when do you call the shots around here?” his voice lowered.

“Since now,” you replied defiantly.

“Keep being cheeky, see where that gets you,” Yoongi challenged.

You smiled slyly as you pushed him onto the bed. Standing before him, you pulled off your sweater to reveal your bare chest. Yoongi instinctively reached out to grab them but you slapped his hand away.

“No touching,” you tsked as you slowly stripped off your bottoms.

You turned to shake your ass at him. The gesture was meant to be playful, but Yoongi took it as a wage of war. He instantly pulled you onto his lap; your panties rubbed up against his hardened crotch.

“I’m hungry,” he growled in your ear as he firmly gripped your ass.

“Not my problem,” you snapped, doing your best to maintain your composure.

“You’ll let me starve?”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t eat me out until I begged for you to stop last night,” you admonished.

“Enough,” Yoongi silenced you.

He roughly latched his soft lips onto your neck. His harsh suckling caused you to moan and tangle your fingers in his minty green hair. You cupped his chin in an attempt to kiss him, but he pulled away.

“You think you get to touch me now? Foolish,” he threw you further onto the bed.

With a snap of his fingers, your panties vanished. They were replaced with strict constraints as your hands and feet were bound by an intricate silk rope pattern. You’ve never been tied up like this before. You’ve dabbled in using handcuffs or fastening a belt around your wrists, but this was something else entirely.

“You wanted to play. So let’s play,” Yoongi cooed in your ear as his fingers traced your sides.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi no,” your eyes widened.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he smiled deviously.

His fingers dug into your sides. You burst out into a fit of laughter. You wriggled around uncontrollably in a futile attempt to get away from him. Yoongi accidentally found out that you were extremely ticklish, and ever since that day he uses it as leverage against you. It wasn’t fair at all considering that demons aren’t ticklish.

Tears welled in your eyes when he finally ceased his attack. Yoongi also knew that tickling was a turn on for you. Something about having another person’s hands all over you made you wet.

“You look so helpless,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Maybe these ropes have something to do with that,” you retorted as you panted.

“Still talking back? You obviously haven’t learned your lesson,” Yoongi ran his fingers along your sides.

“No, please. I can’t take anymore,” you pleaded.

“I think you can,” he smirked before tickling you again.

This time he didn’t stop until you were on the verge of passing out. The bondage made it even harder to catch your breath. Yoongi gingerly kissed your neck as you howled with laughter.

“Will you be a good girl now?” Yoongi asked as he flicked your nipples.

“Mhm,” you managed to whimper.

“I haven’t whipped out any shibari in ages, but I’m glad I did. I forgot how appetizing it makes humans look,” Yoongi licked his lips.

“I can’t move,” you complained.

“That’s the point, my dear ___,” Yoongi kissed your forehead.

His hand trailed down your stomach to your exposed pussy. He was pleased to find that you were already dripping wet. He rubbed circles around your clit as he licked your neck. He ferociously kissed over his previous marks as he started rubbing you faster. Your energy tasted exponentially better the more aroused you became.

Being in such a vulnerable and powerless position turned you on so much. You found yourself at Yoongi’s mercy. Yoongi easily slipped two fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers to perfectly graze your g-spot, causing you to moan loudly.

“You want me to fuck you?” Yoongi whispered in your ear.

“Please. I need you, Yoongi,” you begged.

“I know you do,” he kissed your lips gently.

With another snap of his fingers, the ropes moved their position. Now your wrists were bound to your chest, and your legs were already spread open.

Yoongi dragged his dick along your wet pussy. He loved watching you squirm beneath him as you impatiently waited for him to dick you down. He relished the erotic scene that lay before him. Witnessing you at the pinnacle of your horniess was a blessing. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He thrusted his hips into you with inhuman force. He didn’t give you time to adjust to his thick cock; you didn’t deserve that tonight. Your cries of pleasure were music to his ears. He grabbed your chin as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You automatically stuck your tongue out for him.

“Good fucking girl,” Yoongi growled as you began to suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it.

Yoongi tugged at the ropes, making them vanish instantly. Your freedom was short lived since he immediately flipped you onto your chest. He propped up your ass, giving each cheek a firm slap.

This position was his favorite, and admittedly yours as well. He loved the backside view, and you loved how deep he got. You were sure to lose your mind every time he got behind you. This instance was no exception.

You reached down between your thighs to maximize your pleasure as your fingers easily toyed with your clit. Usually Yoongi wouldn’t allow you to touch yourself, but you couldn’t help it. You were too riled up from being all tied up.

You came undone all over Yoongi’s cock. The warmth of your juices heightened Yoongi’s lust, causing him to thrust faster. He released his hot load into you, groaning as he climaxed.

Your chest heaved as you struggled to stay awake. One of the side effects of being fucked by an incubus is that they literally can fuck you to sleep. After Yoongi cleaned you up, it was cuddle time. He ran his fingers through your hair, making it even harder not to succumb to slumber.

“Full?” you asked with your eyes half shut.

“I’m never satiated, but I can’t complain for now,” he answered.

“Great. Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoongi,” you yawned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ___. I hope I lived up to your expectations,” he patted your head.

“You surpassed them,” you nodded in approval.

“Go to bed,” Yoongi stifled a laugh, “I guess it’s not a pointless holiday after all.”

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