Part 1/? (I legit hit the word cap, this post will not let me save anymore)
Rokudaime had just cut the ribbon marking the official reopening of the general hospital after the catastrophic damages it sustained during the Fourth War. Tenzo, at the Hokage's side, watched the flutter of the vibrant silk fall to the ground. Erupting in cheers, the crowd celebrated, civilians, medics, and shinobi alike proud to see Konoha's road to recovery take another major step forward.
Tenzo thought he would feel relieved, but as the crowd dispersed to partake of a humble offering of celebratory sweets courtesy of the academy whose students were eager to contribute, even if by small, pastry means. Iruka was a genius for that. It was only natural for the Hokage to go over to him to offer his heartfelt gratitude, but not before clapping a hand on Tenzo's shoulder, nodding once, then departing.
Normally, the small gesture was enough for Tenzo to carry with him for at least a week, replaying the inconsequential thing over and over like it meant anything more than it really did. It had been such a comfort, in the short term. But as the feeling faded, Tenzo always ended up feeling more empty than before. This time, he only felt somewhat numbed, and somehow, a little guilty. Because rather than loiter slowly behind Kakashi like a lost puppy looking for another command to receive praise for, his eyes turned to the other man plastered to the Hokage's side, that right-hand man and forgiven war criminal, Uchiha Obito.
Obito was already looking at him. And when their eyes met, a certain glint of satisfaction flared followed with a subtle, pleased smile.
He mouthed something, and Tenzo froze, heart smashing against his ribs like an agitated bird desperate for an exit.
'Good boy.'
Tenzo was dizzy. He felt his mouth open and close like a gaping fish, felt his cheeks creep with a burn like a wildfire. Obito did not even have to signal any sort of followup. When he turned and left, Tenzo was not far behind. Perhaps it was the lightheadedness, but the way Obito slipped through the crowd felt fluid, serpentine, even, where Tenzo felt increasing difficulty moving at such a pace, especially when his apparently recognizable face started to generate some attention.
"--oh Yamato! That's the man who we'd never finish this project without." A construction worker alerted his conversation circle which caught the attention of the foreman on the project.
"So glad to see you here! Events like these us common folk are hardly able to properly thank men like you upstairs." The brawny foreman bellowed, mighty pleased.
Shortly, Tenzo was surrounded by the construction crew, some of whom had already started to pre-game for evidently a long, festive night ahead as they laid their arms across Tenzo's shoulders, swaying him a little with their jovial spirits. Tenzo could hardly get a word in when the crowd thickened. Other voices started to chime in; a few citizens whose homes he had reconstructed, a child pulling at his pant leg with some sort of gift for fixing something or another. The stories began to run over each other, and Tenzo found himself nodding, mumbling thank you, trying to accept whatever was put into his hands.
Bright red, panicked, Tenzo desperately tried to catch sight of where Obito had gone.
"--drinking with us? Our treat--"
"Uh, uh-huh." Tenzo nodded, not entirely paying attention to what he was agreeing to. But the moment his unwitting consent had been given, he was practically pulled by the tide of celebratory-minded construction workers who had caught themselves a man of the hour.
Only then did Tenzo find himself locking eyes with Obito again, the Uchiha, pleased as a cat with cream for some reason. It was an expression that made Tenzo quiver at the core before he was consumed by the throng.
The night was rambunctious to say the least, the bar full of loud, inebriated revelers, and the drinks just kept coming. And even for someone like Tenzo, who kept his liquor uncannily well, he was starting to get tipsy.
Leaning up against him, the now heavily intoxicated, brawny foreman slurred something about, " ya know, 'ammmato... With tha stern face of yersh 'n how profess.. profez... uhh.. stickler ya are on the job... didn' think it was 'cuz you were shy." The foreman slouched forward, before throwing back another stein in his gullet.
Tenzo cleared his throat, unsure what to say. "Th... thanks..?"
This seemed to prove the foreman's point in his head and made him erupt in boisterous laughter over the comedy of it.
It was a note too loud, and Tenzo had a sense when a man was about to out-drink his liver. Collecting the stein from the foreman's hand was no difficult task, any resistance easily assuaged by a promise of another drink. Tenzo just did not promise what sort of drink, and when he got to the bar, he requested water with a bit of lemon instead. Drunks this far gone couldn't taste anything anyway and the sour of the lemon gave all the pretense needed if there were any taste buds left.
But when Tenzo returned to the table, rather than a slurring, cherry-red foreman and his crew, there was the Uchiha was. Waiting. The construction crew had settled their tab, holding onto one another for dear life. A few of the more coherent ones waved a little at Tenzo before they left. But Tenzo's attention could not be torn from that smug face, lips nursing a drink of his own.
Immediately, Tenzo felt guilt wash over him, even if he lacked the words to describe why or even begin to apologize. Once close enough to be heard, Tenzo started to say, "I'm sorr--
"--still not done partying?" Obito snickered, quirking a brow at the fresh drink Tenzo held.
Tenzo blinked, then swallowed hard. "I..it's water."
"Thannnk godd." Obito exclaimed, his mug abandoned as he leaned back with a sprawl.
Tenzo blinked again. "You're drunk."
"No ssshit." Obito mumbled, letting an eye shut, but maintained on Tenzo's figure. Always. "Did ya like yourrr little treat?"
Even though Tenzo was confused by the question, he felt his face redden by the phrasing. "Let's get you home." It was not the first time Tenzo was the designated sober one, and it would not be the last. Bringing Obito's arm up around Tenzo's shoulders, the ANBU Commander brought the Rokudaime's right hand advisor to his feet.
Obito's hot breath cascaded against Tenzo's neck, something of a purr on his lips when he insisted on getting an answer. "Did you?" But now, even Obito seemed to hear how vague the original question even was, so he restructured it with, "Did ya have a nn..nice time? A li.. little recognition, hmmm?"
Tenzo had already negotiated them out of the bar, but now in the fresh night air with fewer and fewer people around, there were less excuses to be distracted and avoid Obito's questions.
But when Tenzo gave one of those polite nods, it was not enough. Obito knew better. And, it was a little, tiny itty bit fun to toy with Tenzo. He always had this evasive approach to conflict which was a sufficient defense for the passerby or those who were only satisfied for what they saw on the surface... but it was infinitely gratifying to get Tenzo to paint himself into a corner. So, naturally, Obito nuzzled his face into the crook of Tenzo's shoulder and neck, reveling in the immediate shiver it elicited.
Obito did not expect, however, for Tenzo to follow up the non-response with something more... thoughtful. Concrete. Delicious.
"A little." Tenzo admitted, eyes to the streets, scanning for obstacles, too intently to be entirely genuine. He was more so distracting himself from the warmth of Obito's body, how the proximity made his head swim in a way that had him considering things he would not dare entertain. He only allowed himself to tug at Obito's hip when he swayed too far off balance. Something that after the first time seemed to increase in frequency... more like a response than the throes of intoxication. The very thought of potential deception made Tenzo squirm. Surely, not. He had been down this road before, and it was terrifying for Tenzo to consider. Seeking substance and deeper meaning from the smallest gestures... Bending backwards and into knots trying to hold onto some deluded hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something there for him.
Damn this Obito to hell. Tenzo knew firsthand how delightfully deceptive the works of his genjutsu could be, how perfectly irresistible they were to fall prey to. Naturally, the context now versus then was vastly different, but Tenzo felt in someways no different than when he was bound and milled to the God Tree. Hopeless in wanting to hope. The genjutsu then was... pitiful, during, and in retrospect. Was Obito even privy to the details? It felt like he was.
"I think.. I would have liked to have a drink with you." Tenzo admitted softly, even if it felt as heavy as condemnation.
A rigidness flashed through Obito's body, and then, it felt all too perfectly molded against Tenzo's side. Obito's face had made its home with that crooked nuzzle, and Tenzo could have sworn that he felt a wicked smile spread through the fabric of his turtleneck.
If Tenzo was being honest now, he was not, on the books, supposed to know where Obito took residence. And out of respect for his privacy, opted instead to bring him to Tenzo's own place, even if it was a bit more of a walk. Not that it mattered. Like this, Tenzo would have walked anywhere for any duration of time. How pitifully touch starved-- and he decided he hated that about himself. He hated those human needs, those things that always seems to drag him right back into wanting and pining for things that just were not his to have. Even if he had long been free of ROOT, it did not dismiss the purpose of his making.
Utility. Mokuton. Even if he wore their same clothes, held their ranks, responded to the names they had given him, Tenzo had known, or thought he knew, he was an exception. But blaring in his face was the exact counter to his belief. Sought out, appreciated. Wanted, not just needed. Not just a lumbermill. Not just a shinobi.
Tenzo's home was outside Konoha walls, some ways into the Nara forest. Another kindness, now that he thought on it. The Nara was a private clan that held their grounds quite sacred. That they would allow something, someone like him to reside in his own little cabin was... not something he could ignore. They could have said no without repercussion. By the time he made it to the quiet little place, his head was spinning. He may have even been a bit sloppy, the way he almost tossed Obito onto his futon.
"S.. sorry..." Tenzo mumbled, kneeling to adjust the covers to make Obito a bit more comfortable.
Kisame immediately noted what Haku was saying. A burger place, huh? If THAT was their idea of a treat, then the two of them really were easy people to please. Or they were just poor. There were plenty of good burgers to get in town. He smiled.
❝ I wouldn't mind a burger for lunch. I know a place with generous portion sizes. ❞ He would walk together with his customers along the docks and back to solid ground. He didn't have burgers often ( why would he? There was bread? ), so no doubt he burger joint owner would be surprised to see him. But, if he brought customers, he should be pleased all the same.
❝ It's right up here, a little off the beaten-path for tourists. Avoiding tourist traps is one of the perks of having a local guide, no? ❞ Kisame said as he gestured to the street the'd be walking up. A paved one going up a bit of a hill. The streets were starting to fill up with people. Tourists trying to find a good spot for lunch, or buy souvenirs. Locals going about their daily lives.
❝ Here we go. ❞ Kisame gestured to the burger restaurant. It had a wooden sign with faded paint. The logo was probably supposed to look like a burger with a smiley face, but the sun had eroded the colours so much it was hard to tell. There were plenty of outdoor space, with tables and chairs and a sunroof to give the customers an escape from the scorch of the sun. The place was surprisingly busy. Kisame lifted a hand to greet some of his fellow locals, and received nods and waves in return. He guided his guests to a table for three.
Zabuza alerted to the 'generous portion sizes', positively salivating. But he was a man of few words, especially unnecessary ones. Haku occupied the space of excitement more than enough on his own as he bounded up the path towards the hill, his loose tank top a few sizes too big slipping off his shoulder.
"Eheh, its kinda fun to not be the local~" Haku chittered happily, inspecting the logo with a lopsided grin, but did not dwell all that long when Zabuza steadily walked passed him, lead by the tantalizing scent of grease, meat, and heaven. He knew what he wanted. only had to confirm that there was something resembling it on the menu before he ordered.
"Seventh Sea Surprise, onion rings. Drink." He stated to the worker who seemed a little intimidated by his stern expression and delivery. But whatever intimidation she felt quickly evaporated when Haku came up to the counter, fidgeting like he had a secret he could not stand keeping for a millisecond longer. "Number 3! Sm-.. medium please!" He glanced a little sheepishly towards Kisame, and with a quieter voice asked,
".. if that's alright..?" Even if it was a 'treat'...
Zabuza replied, pragmatically. "Can hold on the onion rings if you want the medium." Kid needed to eat, hardly filled the baggy clothes he had on already. But that was due in part to them being hand-me-downs. Very well loved, well used ones at that.
The support caught him before gravity could reclaim him.
Shikamaru instinctively stiffened the moment Haku slipped beneath his arm, not out of distrust —but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had helped him without expecting something in return. The motion pulled sharply at the fresh stitches, earning a quiet hiss through clenched teeth, yet he didn’t shrug the smaller man away. At the moment, pride weighed considerably less than blood loss.
“You’re stronger than you look” he observed after a few unsteady steps, the words spoken with the detached curiosity of someone whose mind habitually catalogued details, even now. Haku’s frame was lean, almost delicate —but there was practiced strength beneath it. The kind earned through repetition rather than size.
His breathing settled into a slow rhythm as they walked, though each inhale remained shallow. The meadow rolled gently around them, green and alive beneath the sun —painfully at odds with the memory that refused to leave him. Every rustle of grass threatened to become another scream.
Don’t think about it. Don’t.
The shadow at his feet obeyed —it clung close to his boots instead of wandering outward, unnaturally compact, as though caged by sheer force of will.
“Nemura…” he repeated quietly, committing thr unfamiliar name to memory. A village. Civilian. Remote. Exactly the sort of place someone like him should never enter.
His gaze drifted toward Haku as the young man introduced himself. There was something disarmingly sincere about the smile offered to a complete stranger —worse, to a shinobi wearing the insignia of a village that would have gladly hunted the people living in that cabin, had they known who they truly were. For reasons he couldn’t explain, that realization settled heavily in his chest.
“Shikamaru.” It was the first thing hed offered willingly since waking. Though he gave no rank, or surname. Just his given name. Hopefully that was enough for now. He wasn’t really planning on staying. Not for too long.
Silence followed for several steps before he spoke again. Eyes remained fixed on the path ahead. “You shouldn’t trust me just because I’m hurt, Haku.” He leaned more heavily against Haku than he cared to admit, his thoughts drifting back to the ravine he couldn’t escape. When he finally spoke again, the usual dry wit was gone from his voice, leaving only a quiet exhaustion.
“I’m going to ask you for something… troublesome. If you know somewhere secluded —a cave, an abandoned cabin, anywhere far enough from your home and the village… take me there instead. Don’t bring me anywhere near the people here.” his gaze fell to the shadow stretching beneath their feet, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t know when it’ll happen again. I’d like to believe I can keep it buried, but I believed that yesterday, too. I spent years convincnug myself that as long as I stayed calm… as long as I kept thinking ahead… I’d stay in control. Turns out there are some things you can’t outthink.”
His voice grew quieter, carrying none of the panic one might expect from such a confession —only the weight of someone who had already accepted the possibility.
“If I lose myself again… don’t hesitate. Kill me.”
Clearly, the injured enemy shinobi, this Shikamaru, was fighting something more than the flesh deep wounds in his body. It was something loathsome. It was something saturated in that vengeful, dark yin energy that Haku had become familiar with in his engagements and the company he kept. It was not something he could ever entirely understand.
But he knew the danger.
"I do not trust you, because you are hurt." Haku replied simply, steadily taking Shikamaru's weight, shouldering the majority without complaint. He had carried Zabuza with ease in numerous occasion, Shikamaru was a note lighter. Nor did he have the weight of a blood-lusting blade to manage. "But some things will always be out of our control." A little cryptic, but the fear from this shocking encounter had rolled into a steady rhythm as they crossed the meadows, to the forest edge.
A small, winding path was cut through the trees, gnarled roots doing little to slow Haku's careful pace. "You are not an animal. I will not abandon you to some cave or forgotten place." The treeline broke, a small lake and cabin coming to view. Secluded from Nemura, and with Zabuza away, it was isolated. Because even if Haku was unwilling to treat his patient with neglect, he was only so much a fool.
"But I will kill you, if I must." He assured, grim, and with a coldness of one who not just saw plenty of death, but delivered it by his own hand. "So behave." Haku implored, hoping that if this fearsome yin energy was anything like Zabuza's, it might be more reactive than proactive. That would have to be seen.
Haku let them inside what was a perfectly functional homestead. A sunken hearth provided radiant warmth from the coals, a small table to eat, a counter to prepare goods, and two sleeping mats. Haku coaxed his patient to lay down on one, tossing a couple logs on the fire to stoke it to life. He poured warm rice gruel into a wooden bowl, then knelt at Shikamaru's side to offer it.
"If I'm to help you best, you ought to tell me what you can. About... 'losing yourself'. If you can muster, that is. I imagine you are exhausted." He spoke softly, his steady gaze falling on Shikamaru.
It was an accident, what happened at the academy. That was what everyone was saying. And with how old the school building had become over the years, that a loose tile or two might come free and fall, and into a crowd of unsuspecting staff and children was a tragedy waiting to write itself. And it absolutely did in the incident report which had barely hit the Sandaimei's desk before Hiruzen was on the move with a fire of someone twenty years younger. He might have even made it out the door if it weren't for the calls of the village elders and the ages long itinerary they had yet to go over. Hiruzen's only relief was mixed as Asuma spoke up, all but quiet in the proceedings so far.
He would go in the Hokage's stead. This was how the man came to stand outside Umino Iruka's hospital room, arms crossed. Aside from staff, Asuma did not allow anyone else inside. Even if he and Iruka's relationship was awkward at best, Asuma was not bullheaded enough to endanger the recovering chunin from the near death experience.
Because even if it was entirely believable that this was all indeed an accident, an unconfirmed sighting on the academy's roof put anyone on edge. Asuma especially. He had just been in town for a rare visit, an old flame he couldn't get out of his head. And, well, maybe his experience as one of the Twelve Guardians made him too quick to suspect foul play. Unlike the land of fire's daimyo, Iruka was a nobody. And as frustratingly affable as he was, it was even harder to imagine a personal grudge to boil over in broad daylight.
Still, until he could get to grips of the situation himself, Asuma appointed himself as a security check, just in case. So, naturally, when a hopeful individual made it clear they were headed to Iruka's room, Asuma spoke, pleasant, but the sort of politeness that left one feeling cold. On the clock, as it were.
"No visitors. You may leave any well wishes there." He nodded his head to a bench where a few stray flowers and some hand-written notes courtesy of some students.
Kakashi: *Watching Iruka cook them dinner* "You know... You would make a good housewife."
Iruka: "What?? Uh, that's not very funny."
Kakashi: "No, I mean it."
Iruka: "..."
Kakashi: "Do you want to be my wife? I have a nice big house with a huge yard that I'm sure you would love. I already got the dogs, and you have the kid. It'd be picture perfect."
Iruka: "I think you drank a little too much..."
Kakashi: "Please marry me. I want to hold you before I die."
// I don't really consider myself an artist but I got the itch to doodle and even if it isn't rendered 'beautifully' I just want to convey the vibe tm.
Hyuga Tsubaki, "Hagetaka", permanently exhausted and tired of your shit
Shikamaru had a certain... reputation when it came to the ladies. Across the board there was a healthy amount of mixed feelings which was to be expected; but that there were enough opinions to go around on the topic. And it cultivated certain views on Shikamaru's character.
"I swear its the same thing, every time." Shikamaru groaned, taking a strong hit off the pipe he smoked. "I can say 'till I'm blue in the face its one of those 'no strings attached' deals, no frills or fuss or whatever. Just a little mutual benefit, ya hear? Well, they'll agree then, but the next morning its like that conversation didn't even happen. Like I'm their boyfriend or whatever and I abandoned them after sex."
Complaining as he was, however, Shikamaru did find good company in Neji who sipped at a bit of sake, nodding in contemplation over his peer's problem. "Perhaps there are preexisting feelings which they hope intimacy may change your mind." Neji offered thoughtfully.
Shikamaru made a face. "Eh, I dunno about preexisting but... I think changing their mind is on the money. But I'm the bad guy for staying true to my word..."
Neji chuckled a little, gesturing for Shikamaru to pass the pipe of that special Nara mix that made the eyes water, the tongue numb, and the mind dumb. Certainly a reprieve for two titled 'geniuses' or whatever people called them. "Is it the same with men?"
Presumptive, given the way Shikamaru coughed off guard. "Hrk.. sorry... Um... Hm." Shikamaru paused, eyes falling on Neji as though trying to glean something intangible from the question. But that was just the beauty of being high as a kite. At some point, following the constant connections became a mute point if you could hardly remember the premise a few steps in. It let Shikamaru be grounded in the present, speak off the top of his head. It was liberating to not have to go through such scrutinizing processes to arrive at the most optimal answer. He could be messy and incomplete.
"Not given it much thought, honestly. Can't say I am opposed either." It was a most fascinating thought. Shikamaru considered himself reasonably experienced in the bedroom with women, the nuance of each encounter becoming less and less interesting. His mind was always searching for the next fix, the next new thing he could solve with a good payout; making someone orgasm was a pretty rewarding engagement, minus the whole aftermath of messy affairs that often followed after.
How different would it be with a man...? Already there were anatomical differences too stark to say his experience would translate much one to one. And the whole notion caused Shikamaru to laugh, shoulders shaking at the thought of being inexperienced in something he had considered himself to be rather good at just moments before. "Hope a guy's mouth works the same way, or I'm going to be really out of my depth.. heh."
That was when Neji said something unthinkable, and it had Shikamaru stare at him like he had grown two heads. "Want to try?" A few more blank blinks from Shikamaru prompted a clarification. "A kiss."
There was a lot to take in. "... not gunna wake up to a gentle fist to the face?" A wry smile twitched into the corner of his mouth.
Neji snorted, amused. "Not unless you leave me at the altar."
The two laughed at the absurdity, but not without Shikamaru leaning towards Neji, nearing in a way that left little to the imagination what he planned to do. A clumsy hand brushed a piece of hair away from Neji's face, sloppily holding it back as his fingers tangle in that smooth, well cared for hair. It smelled nice, Shikamaru noticed. Neji's skin was soft, and those trait-Hyuga eyes were something otherworldly up this close. But he had spent a little too much time admiring. Neji was about to give him and out.
But the words were muffled into a kiss, fizzling into nothing as they shared this strange, exploratory moment. Soft, like a woman's. Maybe it was unfair to say, but Neji was pretty as one too. The kiss itself was brief, but by no means a peck. When Shikamaru pulled back, Neji canted his head, a little mischief, a little curiosity glittering in his eyes.
"So? How does a man's kiss measure up?"
To this, Shikamaru shrugged, laying back in his spot with an immaculate buzz. "Dunno, honestly..." His head fell lazily to the side, eyes remaining intently on Neji.
"Might have to do another sometime." He smirked. "Comparing, of course."
Gai started at the sight of such formal clothing. “Oh- wow. Iruka-san, I’m not sure if— Thank you, thank you.” Receiving the outfit Iruka offered with two hands, Gai even bowed a little.
It was flattering, of course, to have his physique complimented. Gai was hardly oblivious to the build he’d achieved over the years; he had invested countless hours into perfecting his training regime, and it brought him immense satisfaction to watch the changes in his physique.
What was surprising, however, was the way Iruka seemed to trip over his words, and— was that a tinge of pink creeping up his cheeks? If he didn’t know better, he would think… did he? Did he know better? Come to think of it, he’d never seen Iruka with a man, but he’d never seen him with a woman, either.
Most other men who admired his physique would do so quite openly, maybe give him a fist bump, and ask him about his routine. For Iruka to so determinedly avoid looking at his body, blushing the way he did… It was cute. Gai couldn’t help wanting to prolong the interaction by more than a little.
“Food sounds wonderful, but only if it’s not too much trouble! I’d hate to bother you, especially after you’ve gone out of your way to help me already. I’ll, uh—” Gai cast a sheepish gaze to the kimono and hakama in his hands. “I’ll get dressed at an amazing speed!”
That Gai received his father's traditional clothing with such deference was warming. Not that Iruka thought the jonin would be anything but grateful, it was still reassuring that it would be treated with mindfulness and care. It was in good hands.
"Not at all a bother." Iruka affirmed sincerely, escaping to the kitchen so he might recover a little from being from having a half-naked sculpture of a man standing in his living room with nothing but the hopes and dreams of a towel to maintain his dignity. A bare body was perfectly normal. It was not as though Iruka felt this way at the public bath; then again, he had never seen Gai there either. "If you dress too quickly, I won't have anything ready yet." Iruka laughed a little, shaking his head. Of course Gai would derive some sort of personal challenge in all of this.
Shortly after, Iruka set to work. Now, he was no culinary genius, but he did have the basics down to a reasonable and more importantly, edible range of expectations. It had been some time since he had done a fresh grocery run, but the small smatterings of pickled eggplant, seaweed, shreddings of green onion, crab, and river trout, the makings of a pair of poke bowls was underway. Not much was needed to process, thankfully, the majority being left overs anyway, but the trout needed processing.
So began the de-boning. As Iruka worked the knife to dice and portion the fillets, he heard a noise that he presumed to be his guest having changed. Brows furrowed in concentration, Iruka guided the knife around the ridge of one of the spinal columns that just didn't want to let go of the flesh.
Without looking up, Iruka said, "Oh, I should have asked-- are you allergic to anything? Probably should have asked that before..."
♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise?
To be honest, I get fatigue from writing certain character types which lean into stereotypes fans often label as 'dominant'. And I have a few reasons why I gripe on this. 1) It really is not fair to shove a whole depth of sexuality under what feels to be porn logic from the get go. 2) Even when I write a 'dominant' character in depth and with nuance, the way the character(s) are treated are very clearly in the light of a 'dominant'. 3) The 'dominant' is almost always expected to drive the sexual experiences, initiate, pursue, etc. It's exhausting.
I am not at all knocking novels or stories that place the reader in the POV of the receiver of affections. I love me a good romance where I can sit back and turn my brain off while I am spoonfed delicious characters and scenarios. The problem with taking that same mentality to roleplaying is that it places all the pressure on the other partner with little to no reciprocation.
A 'dominant' character, or a character that stereotypically takes charge/tops seems to unwittingly draw this type of unbalanced reply. I don't have hard feelings or judging anyone, but this is definitely an annoyance of mine.
☀ What’s your rp pet peeve?
Pet peeve, as in can bother some people but doesn't bother others would have to be two things, actually. 1. Replies without a hook/way for my character to respond. 2. When a reply doesn't add anything to progress the plot or just reiterates everything in the reply prior without any additional context. It is not impossible to reply to, but it takes a lot more mental effort.
✮ Have you managed to stay away from drama?
Honestly, yeah. I've not seen a whiff of tumblr drama on my dash or experienced anything really notable myself recently.
10+ years ago when I was a teen I had a guy who got upset with me after I did not want to write yuri with him anymore who pretended to commit suicide. The whole 'friend messaging from his account to tell me he is in the hospital' thing. I blocked him and he made other accounts telling me how much a bitch I was for not giving him a second chance. The other was getting vaguely threatened by someone who claimed to have DID who tried to post selective screenshots of how bad a person I was. I posted the whole conversations. Never bothered me again.
Honestly, it may just be those experiences that prevent me from getting so emotionally invested as to invite that level of potential backlash. I still very much adore the people I write with, and this is not to say I am not emotionally invested. Just better able to filter and recognize a possible sour interaction.
Because, like it or not, we’re not all balls of sunshine all the time. We can be pure salt when we want to be.
☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you?
♥ What’s the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?
♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise?
♢ Has anyone ever tried to steal your blog? Your headcanons? Icons? All that jazz
♚ How many people don’t like you?
⚜ How many people do you not like?
✮ Have you managed to stay away from drama?
☄ Have you ever been in the middle of drama?
☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation?
☼ How long do you stay mad?
☀ What’s your rp pet peeve?
☁ Have you ever forgiven a partner when you shouldn’t have?
☂ Have you ever been forgiven when you knew you shouldn’t have been?
☢ What fads/trends are you so over?
☣ Have you ever rp’d with someone you knew for a fact was abusive but tried to give them a chance/to make up your own opinion on the roleplayer? Did they change or did you understand what people were talking about?
♨ Have you ever made a public call out post?
❀ What has made you completely lose your chill?
✿ What do you think about public call out posts?
✂ A fandom that you feel isn’t open and accepting?
✉ A fandom that you feel is open and accepting?
✦ Thoughts on duplicates following you?
✧ Do you agree with reblog karma or is it forced interaction?
❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?
❦ Has someone been jealous of you?
❧ Have you ever been jealous of anyone?
✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?
♒ Thoughts on the fandom you’re currently rping in?
They really just keep making the designs more difficult. Guys give the animators a break. I imagine animating og was there to make animators feel sane.
