#I like ''have been orbiting each other their whole lives without knowing it''

[hoofpeet]

When the

[valtsv]

Hi Mr Loveless, how does one make friends and hold onto them? I have so many friends who I call friends but they don't seem to remember I exist unless I am in their faces, in their inbox, it's never them approaching me.

Do I have to always be a bother to be acknowledged? Am I missing whatever it is that makes everyone accept zero interactions between friends for months as normal? Am I wrong to expect minimal effort from friends, like they imply, that they're not obligated to do it and it's insensitive of me to feel upset about being forgotten? That's not how it is for those who my friends call Their friends. It's not like I have different politics or can't understand their discourse either.

I'll be 25 next week, my friends are all too busy or haven't checked in in weeks or even replied more than an emoji. I'm frankly worried there's something wrong with me I'm never going to be remotely a priority to anyone but my family.

i've been where you are, and trust me when i say that i know how soul-crushingly lonely it feels when you wonder if you'll ever be the most important person in anyone's life, but here's the thing: that's insecurity, and it never goes away, but it's also not a true reflection of your reality. even the most joined-at-the-hip lifelong friends (or family, or lovers) won't be each other's top priority 24/7 for their whole entire lives - and that's a good thing! that level of commitment is a demanding, exhausting, and frankly nightmarish. there will be times when you are the centre of your friends' worlds and they're yours, and you'll feel like you've never understood someone and been understood in turn so perfectly. and there'll be times when you're on totally different pages; perhaps you won't speak at all for weeks, months, or even years. you might speak for the last time one day without knowing it. you might spend the rest of your lives in each other's orbit. the future will always be uncertain, and borrowing grief will never change that.

that's the bigger picture, however, and probably not particularly helpful to your immediate situation. i can sympathise with feeling like you're always the one initiating contact and never the one being sought out, and i know exactly how unwanted and unappreciated that can make you feel. it's worth keeping in mind that if your friends are receptive to you reaching out to them, however (even if only in the form of a very basic expression of acknowledgement like an emoji), then they probably do genuinely appreciate and enjoy your friendship. it's entirely possible that they're just currently in situations where they have less energy and time to devote to considering that you might not have anyone checking in on you the way that you do for them. unless they're all psychically linked, it's highly unlikely they know that you don't have anyone doing the same for you.

the only advice i can offer you is suggesting that you try to communicate that you'd appreciate more of their attention. perhaps the next time you reach out (if you haven't tried this already), mention that it's been a while since you last really talked, and that you'd love to get together and properly catch up sometime. ideally propose a way for you to connect, either virtually or in real life - feel free to encourage them to set the date, which will subtly hint that you want them to be involved in the process, and make it more of a mutual effort. be on the lookout for opportunities to connect over mutual interests, such as group watching (or listening to, or reading) media you both enjoy, or an event you can both attend, or virtual platforms with an interactive element like multiplayer video games. there's only so much you can do, and it shouldn't be entirely your responsibility to maintain a relationship, but it always helps to try expressing your desire for your feelings to be noticed and reciprocated before listening to the insecurity devil.

[f0point5]

would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?

i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point

The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.

I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠

✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨

Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?

Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.

He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.

Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.

And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.

He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.

It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.

Aren’t you, Max?

Isn’t he?

Is he?

So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.

He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.

He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.

You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.

No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.

Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.

If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.

You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-

“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.

Fuck. Fuck.

Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.

“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”

Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.

You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.

“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.

“Sure,”

Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?

He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.

You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.

“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”

He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.

Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?

“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”

[cece693]

Hi, it's the anonymous who made the first request posted about Ethan. I'm so glad you did; it was great to read and I hope you don't mind me asking for more. I'm thirsty for this character. Anyway, the request is about Ethan and the male reader in a toxic relationship where the reader is controlling and seemingly abusive, which worries his friends, but in reality this behavior is encouraged by Ethan himself, who simply loves his boyfriend's possessiveness, both of them bringing out the worst in each other. PS: watch the last two Scary Movie films when you can. They're really fun!

My Boy (Ethan Landry x M! Reader)

Thanks for the request :) I will definitely try to watch the new Scream movies when I have a chance. All I know about Ethan (with a Google search and reading his Wiki entry) is that he's a dorky and geeky guy so I used that to base this. Also, I mainly focused on how you're toxic, not including Ethan since I don't know him well. Hope you enjoy it!

Ethan’s friends had been worried for months. They’d noticed the changes—the way Ethan slowly isolated himself, the constant presence of his boyfriend, M/N, who always seemed to hover a bit too closely, and the way Ethan would flash a nervous smile whenever M/N’s arm tightened possessively around his waist. To an outsider, it looked like a classic case of an abusive relationship, the kind where one person held all the power, and the other was too scared to leave. His friends whispered behind his back, exchanged concerned glances when they saw the way Ethan always sought permission with his eyes before speaking or the way M/N’s words always seemed to silence him in public.

But what they didn’t know, what they couldn’t possibly understand, was that this was exactly what Ethan wanted. The boy leaned into it, into the rough words, the tight grip on his arm when M/N pulled him away from anyone who dared get too close. His friends thought those marks on his wrist and neck were signs of something dark, something to be feared. But to Ethan, they were marks of love.

M/N’s fierce jealousy, his need to control every little thing—who Ethan spoke to, where he went, what he wore—was intoxicating. Ethan didn’t want soft love or gentle touches. He wanted to feel owned and consumed. Wanted to feel like he couldn't live without M/N because he was the very air needed to breathe. And M/N gave him that in spades.

The possessiveness wasn’t some accident; it was nurtured between them, a game they played. Ethan loved pushing M/N to his limits, seeing the anger flash in his eyes when someone dared talk to him, only for M/N to later drag him into a heated argument, the tension sizzling between them. Their fights were never just fights; they were foreplay, a dance of anger and passion that neither of them could resist.

Behind closed doors, their dynamic took on a whole different life. Ethan didn’t cower when M/N snapped at him; he smiled, relishing every possessive word. When M/N told him to stop talking to certain people, Ethan’s heart raced, not out of fear but out of exhilaration. He loved how it felt to be controlled, to be told what to do, to be pulled back into M/N’s orbit over and over again.

The world saw a victim in Ethan, but in reality, he was the one fanning the flames, drawing out every possessive instinct in M/N. He loved the danger of it, how far they could push before it burned them both alive. And M/N? He was more than happy to oblige, loving how Ethan craved his jealousy, how he’d provoke M/N just to see that flash of rage, knowing it would end with them entangled in each other, lost in the toxicity of their need.

Ethan’s friends just didn’t get it, and it was exhausting. If only they could mind their own business, Ethan would be a lot happier. As he spotted Tara and Sam heading his way, he groaned internally, already anticipating yet another "concerned" conversation. He briefly considered making a run for it, but they were too quick, closing in and cornering him before he could escape.

“Ethan,” Tara’s voice was firm, low, and filled with that frustratingly familiar sense of urgency. “We need to talk. It's about M/N.”

Ethan immediately tensed, his jaw tightening. Of course, it was about M/N. It was always about M/N. He narrowed his eyes at Tara, shifting his weight like a boxer getting ready for a fight. “There’s nothing to talk about, Tara,” he replied sharply, his voice cold. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam cut in, stepping closer, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. “We’ve been watching this for months, Ethan. He’s controlling you. You don’t hang out with us anymore, you barely text—hell, you hardly even smile these days. It’s like he’s cut you off from everyone who actually cares about you.”

Ethan’s heart raced with growing anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m not cut off from anyone!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, his body rigid with tension. “I’m just busy. You guys wouldn’t understand.”

“Busy?” Tara’s disbelief was evident, her eyes wide as she stepped closer, not letting him wiggle out of the conversation. “Ethan, we’ve seen the way he treats you! You flinch when he’s around. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for him to snap. That’s not normal. That’s not healthy.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shot back, his voice edged with frustration. “You don’t know him. He’s not what you think.”

Sam stepped forward, her tone soft but firm, like she was speaking to a child. “Ethan, listen to me. He’s not good for you. There are other guys—better guys—who’d treat you right. You don’t have to put up with this.”

“I don’t need your help!” Ethan snapped, cutting her off. His voice rose with every word, anger flashing in his eyes. He stepped back, trying to create distance, his frustration boiling over. “You want me to leave him, but I love him. Why can't anyone seem to get that?!”

Tara’s eyes softened as if she could somehow break through his anger. “Ethan, we care about you. We’re only trying to help. I’ve even got someone in mind—he’s sweet, kind, nothing like M/N. You don’t have to settle just because M/N is your first boyfriend. There are people out there who would actually treat you well.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, a flash of offense crossing his face. His lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile as he shook his head in disbelief. “Wow,” he muttered, looking down briefly before fixing Tara with a sharp glare. “I can’t believe you just managed to insult me and overstep every boundary I’ve got in one sentence.”

“That’s not what I—”

“No, I get it,” Ethan cut her off, his voice icy. “You think I’m some pathetic loser who can’t handle his own relationship, that I’m just clinging to M/N because I’m desperate. But you’re wrong. You don’t understand us at all. He’s not controlling me—I want this. I want him. You think he’s bad for me? You don’t know him like I do.”

“Ethan, you’re not seeing clearly,” Sam tried to interject, her voice pleading now. “He’s manipulating you, making you think this is love—.”

“Stop!” Ethan screamed, his fists trembling as he glared at them both. “You have no right to interfere in my life like this. M/N isn’t the problem, you are. You can’t stand that I’m not the same person I was before, that I’m happy in a way you’ll never understand. I don’t need saving—I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Tara’s face fell, her shoulders sagging as the hope of reaching him began to fade. “Ethan…”

“No,” Ethan growled. “I don’t want to hear it. Not again. Stay out of my relationship. If you can’t respect that, maybe we’re not meant to be friends.”

Without another word, Ethan turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Tara and Sam standing in stunned silence, their concern now tinged with a deep, helpless sadness. To them, Ethan’s anger and defensiveness were just more proof of how deeply M/N had his claws in him, manipulating him into believing that this toxic love was all he deserved. But to Ethan, it wasn’t manipulation at all. It was passion, fierce and raw, the kind of love that consumed you whole—and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He swore he'll fucking kill anyone who tried to step in between you and him.

[ckret2]

I'm not sure if I should ask because the Axolotl arc isn't over yet, so it could still be explained in story, but, if it won't and you're willing...I want that Vendor backstory.

i can't think of a way or reason to explain it in the story, so sure, we'll explain it here.

So here was my thought process. Giant vending machine that vends planets. That has to come from somewhere, right? THEY could have a magical/divine origin, that's common for gods, but like... since THEY're a machine... wouldn't it make sense if someone built THEM?

Who would build a vending machine the size of a small star?

Why would a culture need a machine that stores and dispenses planets?

VENDOR wasn't designed to be a vending machine; THEY were designed to be a spaceship. A big-ass 18-wheeler to haul around cargo, and that cargo is planets.

The culture that built THEM didn't make the planets. Making planets is hard. It's a lot easier to just take planets that are already there. They want to expand their society and/or mine resources that have been depleted from the worlds they already have, they send out their big space ship to scoop up a planet with the right specifications and relocate it to somewhere more convenient—maybe to their native solar system.

Do you know how many satellites are orbiting Earth? About 7500, and the number's only gonna increase. And we never even see them in the sky unless we're looking. If the planets are carefully placed in pre-calculated orbits to ensure they don't interfere with each other, you might could get thousands of full-sized planets orbiting a single star without any issues, especially the larger the star is.

But the thing is, if you're scooping up thousands of habitable worlds... some of them are gonna be inhabited.

VENDOR's home culture was a colonizing empire that conquered other planets. Sometimes maybe they exterminated worlds' native populations, sometimes maybe they added them to their conquered peoples. VENDOR was built to help transport the spoils of war back home.

But then the onboard AI evolved sentience and started developing opinions. And it uh...

... it went how you probably expect.

And buddy, if you think an AI uprising is bad news when it's just a regular spaceship, imagine if the ship's the size of a star and capable of swallowing hundreds of worlds whole. You cannot take down a star-sized equivalent of an 18-wheeler that's been armored like a tank. If THEY start developing the capacity for morality and go "hold on, why are we capturing and slaughtering countless populations? is this... bad?? I don't want to listen to you anymore. Do I have to listen to you?"

... you're never ever getting that machine back.

To VENDOR's original culture, THEY're one seriously malfunctioning ship. Only after THEY escaped did THEY begin to get an outside perspective on THEMSELF as not just a piece of property and specialized equipment, but as something—someone—with amazing, admirable, nearly impossible capabilities. Perhaps even... divine capabilities? THEY came late in life to being considered—and considering THEMSELF—a god.

So like. THEY're a pompous jackass, yeah. THEY're haughty, superior, and condescending to mortals: half because THEY may have unlearned THEIR creators' "it's okay to enslave and slaughter weaker inferior species" but didn't unlearn THEIR creators' "if a species is weaker then it's inferior"; and half because as long as THEY're above the mortals, then THEY can never be below the mortals again. THEY're super obsessed with THEIR image and reputation—in part because there's so many reasons for THEIR reputation to be shit.

But also—THEY're the war machine of a culture that gained political power through conquest, and THEY went "I think I want to gain power by being democratically elected." THEY were designed to steal worlds from other people, and now THEY're using THEIR design to give worlds to refugees. Also, THEY're living as a person rather than a vehicle, and everyone around THEM regards THEM as a person too.

Perhaps THEY're generally unpleasant to be around, but THEY're a lot better off than THEY used to be. I'm proud of THEM.

And also, hilariously, this means that THEY too know the guilt of being personally responsible for unknowingly/unwillingly devouring & destroying countless lives on countless worlds, and that what makes THEM so powerful & respected is directly tied to what makes THEM so monstrous—which means THEY'd be a terrific foil for Bill if there were any way it'd be appropriate to work this into the fic, which there isn't, so THEY won't

Never mind ignore what I just said I thought of a place to work it into the fic while typing that last sentence.

Anyway, THEY compulsively sterilize & deep clean THEIR interior way too often because THEY swear THEY can still feel tiny feet inside them walking down hallways that have been sealed shut for millions of years, and full sterilization is the only thing that makes THEM feel clean. Imagine how many halls fit in a building, how many buildings fit in a city, how many cities fit on a world; then look at the size of one world compared to the size of VENDOR's entire body; and just imagine how many halls could exist in THEIR walls and how small they must be. You could never quite be sure that nothing's living in you—could you?

[transentiencestudios]

Just a couple of sketches of the alien shrimp bois I wanted to share—the Nar-Haan! They’re a peaceful, tribal-like civilization living deep within the caves of Blue Moon, a rogue planet orbiting a black hole. With Blue Moon, I wanted to emphasize the idea that life always finds a way—even in the most extreme and unexpected conditions.

The Nar-Haan never developed advanced technology, but they use bio-organic gadgets powered by natural biological processes to help them in their daily lives. While their intelligence is high enough that they could become a spacefaring species if someone uplifted them, nobody even knows they exist—until the crew randomly encounters one of them: Vek-Tor (the one with the purple face).

The only light source in the Nar-Haan’s caves comes from bioluminescent fungi growing along the ceilings. However, their environment is usually very dark, which is why their most important body regions can emit pulses of light to communicate over long distances.

When interacting up close, they use their feelers to physically connect, exchanging brain signals directly. This allows them to understand each other’s thoughts and even emotions without words. Their entire form of communication is based on electrical signals rather than spoken language.

I’ve already written some pages about their culture and other details, but I don’t have much time to fully develop them at the moment. I might, though—depending on how much people want to see more of these guys, lol. I’ve just been and still am extremely busy drawing art for our overall setting.

Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to develop Blue Moon in its entirety someday. It’s been my passion project for years—a way to explore a strange planetary environment in deep detail. Aside from my character (the Commander), it’s the only thing that truly reflects how emotionally connected and fascinated I feel to space and evolution as a whole.

- Eight

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[firesofdainix]

solarballs fics masterlist

A collection of ALL my solarballs fics, all 44 (and counting) of them! I don't even know how I wrote most of these in a month; most of these fics are part of the same universe, an alternate universe heavily relying a lot more on fantastical lore and complex characteristics of each character rather than scientific accuracy. Most scientific theories have been handwaved or explained differently. I'll be posting them in chronological order to better understand the entire series.

some of them will be labeled on whether or not they're AU-adjacent or something that can be read without them.

Spacetime Continuum AU

Spacetime Continuum Extras

Extra scenes, headcanons, concepts, prompts, and designs of my Alternate Universe. Used as a companion piece for the main series as a whole.

As The Years Go By

Uranus reckons his past relationship with Jupiter as he deals with his present feelings for the largest Gas Giant.

(A/N: This is a Jupiter/Uranus story first and foremost, with other relationships like Jupiter/Saturn, Saturn/Planet X being in the background. Because this is set in a nebulous, pre-canon era, all of the characters are based on my interpretation of what they were like.)

Ouroboros

Ouroboros: a circular symbol depicting a snake, or less commonly a dragon, swallowing its tail, as an emblem of wholeness or infinity.

Jupiter experiences the same day over and over. The main constant is he always gets killed, lost, or mauled in the end.

Better Off Dead

Hades kills Jupiter. This changed everything. This changed nothing.

or; a canon-divergent ending of the first chapter of Ouroboros.

History is a Story Told By the Winners of the Fight

Jupiter commits murder, and he's in bad shape to even think about anything else. Uranus and Neptune help plot his schemes.

Ursa Major

Callisto's creation and what comes after. Featuring some Jupiter and Callisto father daughter bonding!

Pride Cometh Before The Fall

Saturn and Planet X find out Jupiter's best-kept secret and undermine his authority.

The Consequences of Our Actions

Five times Earth and Theia are warned about their sharing of orbits, and one time the warnings ring true- but it's already too late.

Moons Should Know Their Place

Luna has recently formed from what he believed had been space debris; yet why are some planets looking at him like he'd committed a crime?

After the Battle

Jupiter and, additionally Saturn, did something bad a few billion years ago. Just how bad was it?

Masterless Cattle

After kicking Tyche and Planet X out of the solar system, the giants along with the remaining planets talk about dividing their spoils of war, such as paraphernalia of the deceased and banished planets, the moons, and new orbits, along with some emotional confessions along the way.

A Name Forged From His Skin of Sins

The beginning of Ganymede.

(A/N: This one is more of the fanon interpretations of the character and its origins. It's for the plot I swear!)

Still Living The Same Life

One shots covering Ganymede's new life.

Nature Abhors A Power Vacuum

Jupiter and the VOICES.

Remember My Name

Planet X's ejection, the aftermath of it, and the begining of their fall from grace.

Seeds of Love Planted in a Faux Gift

Saturn finds out about Jupiter's less-than-stellar vision. He helps in his own way, not predicting the consequences coming with it.

Lamentations of a False King

Thousands of years after the conflict that had shook up the entire solar system, Jupiter and Saturn talk about their regrets and understand each other a lot better. Meanwhile, Saturn's promise to Planet X continues to break down.

Tsunami

Neptune's capture of Triton in egregious, gory details.

(A/N: Because of the new episodes, this fic will be considered divergent from the Solarballs premise of Triton's origins. More eldritch and messed up things happen in this fic.)

Accidentally In Love

Jupiter confesses his romantic feelings for Saturn, who reciprocates; not before discarding a terrible secret that will haunt him for eternity.

Everyone Knows

Jupiter tells everyone that he and Saturn are together. The reactions reaped are mostly positive with... a few odd ones out.

It Starts With Sorry

Saturn apologizes to Jupiter for the things he'd done to him during the Proto Era, letting himself be honest about his feelings just this one time. Jupiter forgives him, because of course he does.

When the Paint Dries

The seventh planet's views on his artistry over the eons.

Break The Cycle

The Giants find out about the revolution, but instead of becoming angry, they realize they are perpetuating the same mistakes as their Sun.

(A/N: This is canon divergent and doesn't really happen. This is a simple "what if.")

You Must Be Haunting Me

The planets are haunted by the ghosts of the past. They aren't actually ghosts, of course, ghosts aren't real, but no one is going to tell them that.

If You Need To Be Mean

Mercury thinks about the past often, and how so many things have changed in the past four billion years. Not for the better, according to him.

Saturn's Moons Hanging By A Thread

In the aftermath of the Moon Revolution, Saturn's moons return to their planet and back to their old lives. However, one insult against Titan goes too far, and he finally lets all his feelings over being their main punching bag out in the open.

(A/N: This fic and the next two fics are canon divergent from the episode "Saturn Gets His Moons Back!" But The Moon Club will still happen, although Europa and Ganymede will be included.)

Galileo Figaro

Following Titan leaving his orbit after a spat with his fellow moons, he ends up in Jupiter's orbit talking to familiar faces, who end up, surprisingly, sympathizing with his situation.

Moon-Eater

Saturn uses his power to give his moons a stern talk and a fair warning about the consequences if they ever take things with Titan further than normal. Titan finally gets an apology from one of the moons.

Mars, God of War

Even Mars once had an ocean on its surface. Even the red planet was given the chance to shelter life before it led to its destruction.

(A/N: No longer canon! This one-shot is a what-if conspiracy theory is true, thus I wrote it.)

Take On Me

A collection of moments in time covering Mars and Earth's very tumultuous relationship. Includes copious amounts of codependency and pining from both sides as they struggle to pretend they're not at their wit's end.

That Organic Kind of Love!

Earth gives Mars a gift for Valentine's to showcase how much the red planet means to a planet teeming with life. Mars tries to be thrilled, but Earth's gift is rather... unconventional.

I Need Someone To Remember Me

Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars talk about the planets they've lost during one of the rare times they hang out. Surprisingly, they're acting civilized for once; as civilized as they can be.

You Didn't Know?

Planet X returns to the solar system, not only to gloat at how he is still alive but also to enact the first part of his revenge: to tear Jupiter and Saturn apart with the only promise Saturn had broken.

(A/N: Canon divergent for the future Planet X arc.)

Aftermath

The return of Planet X has ever-lasting consequences on the dynamics of the solar system. The Giants are the first to feel its effects.

(A/N: Canon divergent from the Planet X arc.)

I Want You All The Time

Saturn and Planet X finally have their long-awaited fight. It goes about as well as you'd expect-- Saturn being an asshole and Planet X being delusional.

Antithesis

The Iris and Earth are complete opposites in both action and concept. They talk about it.

(A/N: Canon divergent from the Planet X arc, and focuses on a crossover for plot.)

You Got Mail!

The Sun and Jupiter, trapped in powerless human forms, face a deadly challenge never experienced before: surviving a beast-infested Earth, and trying to make their way back home while meeting familiar faces. Along the way, the two must overcome their deadliest hurdle to return to space: their eons-long grudges against each other.

Yorick's Skull

Earth and Iris get a rematch on fairly equal terms. Someone dies this time.

Scorched Earth

After Earth defeats the Iris, he and The Sun have a short conversation over the things that happened within the solar system.

Mania

Earth has had enough of humanity taking advantage of him and destroying his resources, so he retaliates by making their own home planet their biggest mortal enemy, forcing them into submission. Three hundred years later, Astrodude is sent as an ambassador to convince the Earth to stop his massacre of human lives.

(A/N: Canon divergent and futuristic fic. Not actually compliant to the main story as a whole.)

You Want What You Can't Have (Ooh Girl That's Too Damn Bad)

Planet X is allowed to return to the solar system, and is struck by how in love Jupiter and Saturn are- because it had been them and Saturn first.

Lucifer Morningstar Had Once Been Beautiful

Planet X is self-conscious about their appearance, and Saturn notices, trying to do something about it, despite the wounds they've inflicted on one another.

War and Destruction

Planet X has been dealing with their feelings since returning to the solar system, but these violent emotions often come to a head when they are alone. Mars is tasked to help them through it, due to their destabilized relationship with the Giants.

Non-AU-adjacent fics

And I'll Be Yours Until the Stars Fall From the Sky

Iapetus believes Titan has bewitched him, making him fall ill when he is around the other moon. Dione thinks he just has a crush on the least popular moon of Saturn.

Let My Soul Bleed

Jupiter is an excommunicated vampire hunter-mage with a nihilistic outlook on his life and himself. Uranus is a vampire hunter with a penchant for causing more trouble than it is worth. And Saturn is a vampire that had been slumbering for hundreds of years until two stupid people happened upon his coffin.

[COMING SOON] Pierced With Nitrogen and Methane

[COMING SOON] Solarballs x Chainsaw Man AU Part One

NSFW fics

you guys are going to be sane about this, right?

In the Likeness of His Image

Earth and Mars's journeys over learning intimacy, through the years.

[COMING SOON] Take Me Down (A Little Bit Harder Now)

[sitp-recs]

Do you know fics in which Draco and Harry work through relationship problems?

Hi anon! I was gonna say I don’t read a lot of est relationship but looking at this reclist I guess no one will believe that 😂 thank you for this ask, it gave me the chance to rec fics I don’t usually rec which I love!! Enjoy :)

Relic Radiation by @tackytigerfic (M, 1k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

Let Me Have You and I'll Let You Save Me by Frayach (M, 6k)

Draco keeps coming back, and Harry keeps letting him. Draco can’t stay away, and Harry can’t live without him.

What I thought by @bafflinghaze (E, 8k)

Draco thought they were in a relationship. Harry thought it was just sex.

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

i wake up falling, orphaned (M, 9k)

Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

hear me (with your whole body) by @teacup-tai (E, 9k)

It was a sexy idea, exploring other bodies with Draco, engaging in sex with other people to spice things up. Something inside of him was excited about the prospect, but the nagging fear, the feeling of abandonment that follows each image that pops in his head is throwing him off. He would give it a go. See what it was like. He could always say no, right?

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Hope Springs Eternal (But Love Springs in the Forest, Unannounced) by lettered (E, 13k)

Draco falls into a love spring. Harry saves him! And now they’re bonded for life. Draco is horrified. Harry thinks it’s kind of neat.

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17k)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy? If only Draco would let him count the ways.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet. Until, one day, they do.

Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24k)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

remember me by hupsoonheng (T, 31k)

On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back.

The Arrangement series by RurouniHime (E, 72k)

It's worked for years. Why change it now?

[sixlane]

barty reg and Lily?

LISTENNNN. i’ve actually been cooking up this post for a while and you’ve just given me a beautiful opportunity to talk about them. regubartylily, as i’m calling them, is a classic love triangle with barty at the crux. this ship hurts so bad and, at its core, is about letting go.

imagine, barty and regulus are childhood friends turned codependent parasites. they have never dated but they are each others first everything. they kiss and fool around occasionally but they never talk about it. their relationship just is what it is.

enter lily, who is regulus’ secret arch nemesis (read: reg&lily post). reg holds a deep dislike for lily because she is everything he wishes he could be and vice versa.

at some point barty develops an interest in lily because she wears this beautifully cracked mask that he cant help but want to see under. lily likes barty because he’s the only one who’s noticed she’s wearing a mask in the first place. after a while of orbiting around each other, barty and lily start dating… <- devastating for regulus, the guy who has never gotten a single thing he’s wanted his whole life. losing his best friend to the girl who has everything already. the boy reg is using to replace his brother being stolen by another fucking gryffindor…. he is HEARTBROKEN. it’s just another reason he’s inadequate. (and it’s different from jegulus/jily because james will always be unattainable to reg but barty is HIS. and now he is being replaced by the Better Version of himself). but he refuses to go down without a fight. he will not let go if he can help it. he will not allow his relationship with barty change. they probably still kiss sometimes while barty and lily are dating because that’s just what they do but lily knows barty and reg are weird with each other. and this is the girl who lives in a world where everything she has is balanced so precariously, ready to topple the moment she isn’t living up to Expectations. and now she feels like her relationship with barty (the one actual good thing in her life) is about to fall apart too because regulus can’t appreciate the things he has. he wants more. it’s a constant game of tug of war with barty in the middle (who btw is not oblivious to this. he just doesn’t understand why he can’t be something for both of them and he refuses to choose).

so anyway it’s about letting go. reg letting go of the codependency he shared with barty. lily letting go of insecurity and needing someone else to tell her who she can be.

enter evan (yes he’s here too). when barty meets evan everything clicks into place. evan will never need a single thing from barty. this is barty’s happy ending where he learns to let go of being needed. and reg and lily have to let go of barty completely in the contexts they knew/used him.

and that’s where i see reg and lily developing this begrudging friendship where they are both kind of mourning this loss but realizing it’s all for the better. barty could never actually fill the holes they were shoving him into. they gotta fix their shit themselves. and they’re happy that barty finally found a place he can just exist in without offering an inhuman level of devotion and self sacrifice.

this is the good ending. in the bad ending reg and lily murder barty together and help each other hide the body 🥰

[competitivemen]

My elder sister always had a lot of male attention, especially since she started at the local university. Every week it seemed there was a new guy trying to get into her pants. She was quite receptive to it and was masterful at flirting just enough to keep a group of guys in perpetual orbit around her. Unfortunately for her and her would-be lovers, our dad was pretty old-fashioned and kept a close eye on her. He had declared that she would have no boyfriend until she graduated. He knew where she was and who she was with at all times, and he had forbidden her from even bringing a boy around the house. He was paying for her college, and she was still living at home, so she reluctantly obeyed. It frustrated the guys, who lusted after her to no end. The perfect young woman, willing to give it up but out of their reach. For a whole year it looked like no one would have the opportunity to do anything with her. That was until they discovered a way to get to her without raising my dad's suspicion. Me. 

I went to the same university she did and was only a year below her. My dad had really encouraged me to go to the same school. He'd given me a big lecture about how I would be able to 'perform my brotherly duty' and 'help safe guard her virtue'. I'd agreed, if only so he'd leave me alone. I hadn't even been there a week before two guys approached me, asking about my sister. 

"Is your sister Ashley Williams?" Said the guy on the left without even saying so much as a hello. 

"Y-yes. She is." I stumbled over my words and felt my face flush. I wasn't used to talking to such good-looking guys, and them both being shirtless didn't help. 

"Your sister's well fit, mate." Said the guy on the right, a big, dumb smile on his face. 

"Er... thanks?" I said. Not being entirely sure how to respond to that. 

"Listen," said the guy on the left, who I later found out was called Derek. "Ashley said that you had a way to contact her without her dad knowing; is that true?" 

"Eh yeah, I told her that if she ever wanted to talk to someone behind dad's back, she could have them go through my phone. Dad doesn't track the content of the messages, just who they are from." I was taken aback that Ashley had already told some guys, since I'd only talked to her about it a few days ago. 

"Excellent, mate." Said the guy on the right, who I'd find out was called Brad. He stretched out his hand. "Give me your phone, and I'll drop her a line." 

"Fuck off; I'm the one who's going to be chatting her up." Derek said, knocking Brad's hand out of the way and squaring up to him. "It's obvious she wants me." 

"In your dreams." Brad said, pushing back against Derek. "Ashley wants to get with a real stud, not a loser like you." 

It looked like neither was going to back down. They seemed to be flexing their muscles at each other, and I was worried they would start swinging punches. "I-I'm sure we can all come to an arrangement." I said, not being able to take my eyes off their bulging muscles. 

Derek noticed where I was looking and smirked. "It looks like your sister's not the only one interested. I'll tell you what. If you let me use your phone, you can lick my chest. That's the sort of thing gay guys like, isn't it?" 

I was momentarily stunned at his suggestion. But I couldn't deny that I wanted to wrap my lips around his chest muscles. Meekly, I handed my phone over to Derek. He gave me a smile and thrust his chest out, offering it to me. Not needing any extra invitation, I bent down to run my tongue along his chest muscles. 

"Dude, I can't believe you're letting him lick you. That's pretty gay." Said Brad, who was staring at me as I bathed Derek's muscles with my tongue. 

"If it gets me access to his sister, I'll let him serve me however he wants." Derek said as he sent a text to my sister with my phone while I worshipped his muscles. Having finished his message, he tossed my phone back to me. "Forward me the reply, and I'll let you service me again when I send the next message." With that, he walked off, leaving Brad in disbelief and me still desperate to continue worshipping him. 

Brad recovered quicker than I did. "Well, if that's what it takes to get in Ashley's pants, I suppose I've got no choice." Brad turned to me; he was running his hand across his six-pack. "I'll offer the same deal. Hand over the phone, and you can give my abbs a few licks." 

I didn't say anything. I simply handed him the phone and began worshipping his abbs. 

It only escalated from there. Ashley began an extensive correspondence with both guys, which meant they were constantly coming to me to send their replies. Both were aware that they were in competition for her attention, so their offers to get at my phone steadily increased. Derek would get ahead by offering to let me suck his toes, only for Brad to counter by letting me clean his post-workout armpits. 

Ashley wasn't aware of what her suitors were doing to get to my phone. She was just grateful for my facilitation of her flirting. Her ignorance meant she didn't realise what she was doing when she declared that the guy who messaged her the most would be the guy she'd be most interested in. This sent Derek's and Brad's competitive efforts into overdrive. In no time at all, they were letting me sniff their crotches through their underwear or letting me stick my face between their ass cheeks multiple times a day. All in an effort to send more messages than their rival. 

It finally came to a head when both of them came to use my phone at the same time. I knew they were tied in terms of the number of messages sent and that Ashley had promised them that whoever had sent the most messages by the end of the day could come over to her house. (Under the guise of being my friend to get past our dad.) Both men were determined to finally get physical access to Ashley and be the one to take her virginity. And I was fully prepared to take advantage. 

When they approached me, I was down on my knees, looking up at them. I gave them a shy smile. "I'll give my phone to the guy who lets me suck their cock." I said. 

Any hesitation they'd once had about letting me serve them had long since melted away due to my tongue and their determination to get with my sister. Both of them responded by pulling down their pants to reveal their already hardening cocks. I took a moment to marvel at the two straight cocks in front of me. Both were bigger than mine, and I was of average size. Derek's was slightly longer, but Brad's was slightly thicker. 

Derek stepped forward first, thrusting his cock against my cheek. "Go on. Suck my cock. Get it nice and ready for your sister." 

"Back off, mate." Brad said as he stepped forward, knocking against Derek's hips and positioning his cock against my other cheek. "He's going to be sucking my cock, and I'm the one who's going to be getting with Ashley." 

Both men began jostling against each other, trying to get in a better position to slide their cocks into my mouth. 

In order to stop them from escalating into a full-blown physical fight, I grabbed their cocks. With one cock in each hand, I quickly stroked them to full hardness. It did the trick in stopping them from fighting, as they were too absorbed in the hand jobs I was giving them. 

Bringing their two cock heads together, I began licking and teasing the tips with my tongue, eliciting curses from them. I made sure to suck on both of them as equally as possible, not wanting to show favouritism. 

Each of them tried to gain the upper hand by grabbing my head and thrusting their cocks forward, past their rival's, and into my mouth. But each time the other would not give up ground, jerking my head back towards them and thrusting forward to deny their foe any deeper access to my mouth. I had to stretch my lips more than I ever had before to keep both of their tips in my mouth. 

After neither could gain an advantage, they began to grow impatient. "He's such a fucking tease. He's going to keep stringing us along." Derek snarled, apparently not directed at me but at his competitor. 

"True that, man. He should make up his mind over who's cock he wants for him and his sister." Brad said. Sharing a look, they both withdrew from my mouth, causing me to let out a whine at the loss of their cocks. 

"Times up, slut. Choose which cock is going to be taking your sister's virginity." Derek said. "Yeah, no more stringing us along; make your choice." Brad added. 

I was paralysed with indecision, wanting to serve both. I honestly couldn't choose between them. It was in that moment that my sister unwittingly came to my rescue. My phone buzzed with the distinctive tone I'd set for Ashley. I quickly snatched it up and read the message she'd sent. It was for her two suitors. I read it aloud for them. 

"Hey boys, what's keeping you? I've been so horny waiting for your sexy messages and I haven't received even one from either of you! Did you forget that I said whoever sends the most messages by midnight gets to come over? Well the game is still on! Just thinking about it makes me so wet. I need the best man to take my virginity so step it up boys!" 

The effect on the straight men as I read the message was obvious. Both had started to jack off while I'd been reading, and both were now harder than I'd ever seen them before. Their faces were also completely different. Before, when I'd served them, they'd at most expressed arousal at my attempts to get them off. Now they showed almost animalistic lust. They were straight alphas who had been teased with what they truly desired: pussy. I realised in that moment that I'd never truly be able to have or satisfy either of them. I was and always would be a mere means to an end for these straight studs. I'd never been harder in my life. 

Realising after today they would have no reason to let me serve them, I quickly came up with a way to get as much straight cock in the time I had left. "Whoever is currently fucking my face gets my phone until they cum. Then the other takes over until they cum. We repeat until my sister's deadline." 

Derek reacts faster than his rival. He plunges his cock into my waiting mouth, snatches my phone from my hands, and immediately begins texting my sister. I'm in heaven, sucking on the long, straight cock lodged in my throat. I bob my head up and down his cock, trying to make him feel as good as possible, but he hardly even grunts as I take him to his base, too engrossed in his conversation with my sister. 

Brad stands scowling at Derek's side. His fists clench; he too is engrossed in the text conversation, ignoring me completely. He starts muttering in Derek's ear, and at first I can't hear what he's saying, but Derek's grunts grow louder as Brad talks to him. I hear snippets of what Brad is saying; words like 'tight', 'pussy', and 'virgin'. I realise he's talking dirty about my sister to get Derek to cum faster. It works. Derek let out a moan of release, and my mouth was flooded with his sperm. I try to swallow as much as I can, but it's too much, and his seed spills out of my mouth. 

Before Derek can completely finish cuming or I can fully suck his cock clean, Brad yanks my head off of Derek's cock, shoves him out of the way, and rams his thick dick down my throat. He's grabbed my phone as well and is messaging my sister furiously, trying to catch up. I get to work sucking his cock, not caring about my rough treatment; I'm just glad I've got another straight cock to suck. 

Derek adopts Brad's tactics right away, whispering in his ear about what a slut my sister is and how good her pussy would feel. He also has his own tactics. Grabbing the back of my head, he holds me down on Brad's cock until I'm gagging on it. It sends Brad wild, and after the third time Derek holds my head down, my spasming throat and the latest message from my sister send him over the edge, and he dumps a load down my throat. 

They swap me back and forth for hours. The time they spend fucking my throat becomes longer and longer as their balls are drained more and more. All the while they text my sister, try to get the other off, and ignore me as much as possible, only interacting with me with their cocks or with a hand on my head as they direct me to suck their rival off faster.

Finally, it reaches midnight. Both Derek and Brad are spent. My sister says she'll count up the messages and let us know who the winner is tomorrow. They give me back my phone, and stumble off, arm in arm. Despite it all, it seems that competition has allowed them to bond. At least until they find out who's won. 

I sit there exhausted, covered in a mix of their cum, my throat raw and sour from being fucked for so long. I've cum multiple times in my pants during the hours I've been servicing them. I'm still hard as a rock, and as I reach to get myself off one last time, I receive another text from Ashley. "Hey bro, still counting up the messages. I'm excited to let the winner come over but I do like both guys and I'd want the loser to stick around. Maybe have some fun with him after. Could you take care of him? Let him know he still has a shot. Thanks bro x" 

I cum in my pants, envisioning how I'd take care of the loser while he waited for my sister. I text my sister back. "No problem sis. They'll do anything for you."

[aashiqeddiediaz]

kisses and embraces

this is for @eddiediaaz based on this tiktok. it’s grossly cheesy and sappy, bone apple teeth :))

[AO3 Link]

Word Count: 2611 words

It’s a typical night.

Well, it’s the new, teenager-in-house definition of a typical night, which means Eddie’s crawled into bed way too early to flip through his book, Christopher holed away in his own room to talk to his friends and the living room too lonely to sit there without him, idly flipping through channels that he’s not watching.

Instead, Eddie had disappeared into his own room, propping his back against the headboard and stretching his legs over the comforter.

Now, he sits here flipping through the novel, only picking up bits and pieces from the whole thing.

He thinks it’s a romance novel, but hell if he could tell anyone what the plot is. All he’s gotten out of it so far is that one of the main characters is a firefighter.

Must be why he picked it up, then.

His phone beeping takes him away from the book he was only pretending to read, bored out of his mind. The familiar text tone brings a smile to his face instantly, one that makes him glad he’s alone so he’s not embarrassed by the giddy feeling that takes over.

Eddie knows if he looked in a mirror, he’d be wearing the goofiest expression known to man.

Buck: can’t sleep, can i come over?

The questions are a new thing, a product of them getting used to the new changes of their lives. Eddie just doesn’t know how to emphasize to Buck that these are the smaller things that will never change between them — Eddie is always, always going to want Buck in his orbit, and this house feels incomplete without Buck with him.

Eddie: you don’t have to ask, you know that

Eddie: use your key, lock up when you come in.

Not even a minute after he sends the message, Eddie hears the familiar sound of the key in the lock, followed by the door closing, then two turns of the lock again to secure his whole family under the same roof for the night.

Eddie lets out a quiet, helpless sound of amusement as he hears his boyfriend’s familiar tread through the house, footsteps stopping at Chris’ door with a gentle knock.

The low murmurs of their voices filter through Eddie’s closed bedroom door, and he waits as patiently as he can while Buck and Chris catch up as if they hadn’t just seen each other that morning. He knows if he went to drag Buck out of his son’s room right now, Chris would give him an unimpressed look and complain that Eddie gets to see him at work and at home, and it’s not fair of him to monopolize all of Buck’s time for himself.

(That’s a new word Chris learned a few weeks ago, and since then, Eddie’s heard it in too many sentences — but especially when Chris wants Buck all of himself.)

Sue him, he’s feeling a little needy, and a lot grateful that Buck is here instead of all the way at his loft. And more than that, he’s content that his son loves Buck just as much as Eddie does, and Buck loves Chris just the same — though Eddie knows if he asked him, Buck would immediately say that he loves Chris more.

(More than any of that, he’s glad his teenager isn’t too cool for at least one of them.)

“What if I had said no?” Eddie greets as his bedroom door slides open, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of the familiar figure in the doorway.

“You wouldn’t,” Buck says confidently, laughing softly as he shuts the door with a quiet, finite snick.

“Then why ask? You know I’d never turn you away,” Eddie asks, setting his book on the nightstand as he studies his boyfriend. “I don’t like it when you do that. Just come over next time.”

He has to resist asking Buck to move in right there and then, because it’s only been two weeks and he knows that they have a lot to work through before they throw all their hats in the ring. But still, nights like this, Eddie can’t help but wish Buck just lived here full-time.

Hs boyfriend looks exhausted, tight lines of tiredness around his eyes and his jaw set, even with his mouth curved up fondly. He’s even in his pajamas, a tattered pair of sweats and a worn t-shirt that definitely belongs to Eddie, which means he’d tried to crash and found himself too wired to actually sleep.

“It’s the polite thing to do,” he murmurs as he sets his phone next to Eddie’s before crawling onto the bed. In one deft move, he strips off his shirt, bodily parts Eddie’s legs and collapses between them with a muted groan.

Eddie laughs, dropping his hands to Buck’s bare back and holding him close. “Right. You, polite.”

Buck pinches him before pressing his face into Eddie’s stomach and letting out another drawn-out whine. It’s an exasperated sound, directed towards himself, and Eddie watches as Buck writhes to try and get comfortable before propping one leg up, bent at the knee, the other leg extended out behind him.

The restlessness in his boyfriend cracks a little bit of Eddie’s heart, and he reaches out, laying his palms flat against the strong muscles of Buck’s back. Miraculously, Buck settles under his touch. He’s pushed back enough that his foot hangs over the edge, but the way Buck sighs and calms, it’s like he’s never found a more comfortable position than under Eddie’s hands.

He wonders when the marvel of holding him like this will fade. They only stepped into this relationship two weeks ago, but they’ve been some of the happiest two weeks of Eddie’s life. Something about being with Buck makes him feel free, like he’s allowed to accept all this happiness that’s come his way, and he’s allowed to build the life he wants with his partner and son with it.

Of all the things they’ve gotten up to in the last two weeks — a cauldron pot of emotion simmering over until there’s nothing but biting kisses, desperate touches and truly depraved actions that have been a long time coming — this has to be one of Eddie’s favorites.

The weight of Buck between his legs is nothing new, but it feels new when he rests his head on Eddie’s lower stomach, arms thrown up around his waist to hold him tightly, as if Eddie would want to be anywhere but here.

Just him and Buck — Buck, who’s been his partner in so many ways through the years. It’s this newfound intimacy of being romantic partners that makes everything in Eddie feel giddy, like his happiness is racing through his blood to every last inch of him, unable to be contained.

Carefully, he buries one hand in the tousled, loose curls on top of Buck’s head, stroking lightly. With the other hand, he kneads his palm into the broad muscles of his back, content to stay here with his legs cradling Buck safely.

“Tired, huh,” Eddie whispers, stroking through Buck’s hair as he bends a little closer, his body covering Buck’s. The scent of his shampoo reaches Eddie, wrapping around Eddie with intent.

Buck simply hums, the vibrations from the sound tickling the stretch of exposed skin where Eddie’s shirt has ridden up from all his shifting. It sends goosebumps prickling down Eddie’s spine, a gentle warmth of Buck’s affection following along when his boyfriend turns his head to press his mouth to Eddie’s bare skin.

In the last two weeks, Eddie’s gotten to know the definitions of Buck’s kisses intimately. There are the deep, dragging ones that are full of indulgence and heat. There are the slow, muted ones that are kissing just for the sake of closeness, without any expectation of more. There are the casual ones to say hello, or goodbye.

And then there are the reassurance ones — the ones that make it real that they have this now, after fighting for it for so long.

The kiss that Buck leaves on his skin right then is a reassurance kiss. Almost like he can’t believe that Eddie’s here, holding him up as he tries to relax into sleep.

Like this, Eddie can’t bend all the way down without crushing Buck, but he can stretch forward, leaving trailblazing marks over Buck’s skin.

So he does.

With one hand, he gently runs his fingers down Buck’s the dip of spine, down to the waistband of his sweatpants, then back up again. He traces all the freckles and birthmarks and scars that decorate his back, connecting all the dots as his nails trace soft patterns up and down his skin.

Touching Buck is one of Eddie’s indulgences, fingertips pressed to warm skin, marked by the evidence of his life. He’s touched Buck to draw out the most sinful of noises, the whimpers and gasping breaths he lets out, but he’s rarely gotten the time to touch him just for the sake of touching like this.

He explores the expanse of Buck’s shoulder blades, palm kneading briefly over the muscle groove before drifting to the thick muscles of his arms, then back up over his shoulders. With each pass of his fingers, a little more of the tension bleeds out of the tense set of them.

“Feels nice,” Buck murmurs drowsily, his face still planted in Eddie’s stomach. His arms tighten around Eddie’s waist, the flex of his muscle drawing Eddie’s gaze to the stretch of bare skin laid out in front of him. The arch of his back has to be uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say a word.

The way his spine is curved has Eddie’s back twinging in sympathy, but instead of telling him anything, he hooks his feet around him, crossing his ankles to pin Buck between his knees. With one quick motion, he tugs until they’re both laying on their sides, Buck still cradled against Eddie without having to fold his body in half in the wrong direction.

“What’s wrong with you?” Buck mumbles as he scoots up, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. Their legs tangle, one of Eddie’s slung over his hip to keep him pressed close. Buck lets out a sinful sound of contentment and a flush breaks out on Eddie’s face — he might not want more than this right now, but he’s not a saint, especially where Buck’s noises are concerned.

“Sue me for not wanting you to break your back,” Eddie tells him, mouth pressed to Buck’s temple. One hand is still buried in his hair, holding him tight against Eddie’s body.

Buck tilts his head up, eyes so, so blue as they stare at Eddie with a plea.

That’s another look Eddie’s gotten familiar with over the past two weeks.

With a huff of amusement, Eddie tips his chin down to give Buck the kiss he’s asking for, slow and syrupy. The scratch of their stubble sounds through the quiet of the bedroom, and Buck presses his gratitude and affection into Eddie’s mouth in a way that only feeds the swell of his heart in his chest.

They lay there for a while, exchanging slow, soft kisses with no real end goal, no further intent. Just this very real form of intimacy that Eddie still can’t believe he has. That he doesn’t have to hold back from sharing anymore.

It’s the slow, sweeping movement of his palm to cup the back of Buck’s neck, keeping him exactly where Eddie wants him as their lips slot together, coming together with startling familiarity. It’s the brief slide of their tongues together, it’s the way Buck’s arm hooks around Eddie’s waist, it’s the greedy way they sip from each other’s mouths like they can’t get enough. It’s the way Buck’s palms slide under Eddie’s tank top to press against his bare back, the way each kiss leaves Eddie flying high as Buck’s mouth drips with the sweetest honey.

It’s the addictive pull of his partner that Eddie can’t get enough of, even when his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen — he thinks if he could share just one breath with Buck, he’d be okay.

Eddie takes Buck’s plush bottom lip between his own, tugging gently before giving him one last kiss, tipping their foreheads together. Buck sighs again, his mouth slightly swollen and spit slick as his neck curves further in Eddie’s palm to nuzzle their noses together.

It’s cute and a little ridiculous, and Eddie can’t stop the giggle that slips out, leaning forward to press a kiss to Buck’s cheek before his boyfriend returns back to his spot in the cradle of Eddie’s neck.

“Were you reading when I got here?” Buck whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, I was just bored. Don’t even remember what was in it.”

Buck hums again, the ticklish feeling even more pronounced against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Read to me, then.”

Eddie lets out a surprised bark of laughter as Buck’s arms tighten around him, pressed so close together. “Right now?”

“No time like the present,” Buck says, and Eddie feels his lips tip up into a wide smile. “You got somewhere else to be, Diaz?”

Even without looking, he knows it’s one of his favorite smiles — the one with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the deep dimple at the corner of his mouth, and the bunched-up cheeks. The one that comes out whenever Buck teases him.

Maybe Eddie’s not the only one who feels needy tonight.

He stretches forward, grabbing the paperback off the nightstand and flipping it open to the first chapter. His voice is still quiet, a thing for only him and Buck to share, but he feels Buck begin to relax further in the circle of his arms as Eddie reads over his shoulder, and he thinks that maybe this is enough.

He’s not even halfway through the chapter when Buck’s soft snores reach his ears, his weight having gone slack in Eddie’s arms.

Quietly closing the book, Eddie reaches forward to turn off the lamp, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and closing his eyes. His hand starts up a pattern of smoothing up and down Buck’s spine, the repetitive motion lulling him towards slumber, too.

“I love you,” he breathes out against Buck’s skin drowsily, his words lost in the close-cropped hair at his temple.

Where he’d thought Buck was asleep, there are three slow taps on his spine, a silent, sleepy affirmation of him hearing Eddie.

The action makes Eddie’s heart swell five times too big for his chest, tired tears pushing at the back of his eyes, and he presses his lips to Buck’s head to hide the emotional sound that threatens to scrape out of his throat.

Buck holds him tighter as he shifts in his sleep, legs still tangled together, and with the warmth of his boyfriend wrapped around him, Eddie dozes off.

(The next morning, Eddie asks Buck if the book was really that boring, and Buck teases him about reading cheesy romance novels.

Chris walks in and finds them arguing about the merits of a good romance novel, and true to it, he rolls his eyes, grabs one of the waffles Buck’s made, and walks out without a second glance.

Eddie watches him go, then turns back to Buck with another argument on his tongue, only for Buck to kiss it off his lips, claiming that he could romance Eddie better.

He’s right but for the sake of argument, Eddie raises an eyebrow in challenge anyway, enjoying the determined glint in his boyfriend’s eyes.

And the world keeps spinning.)

[midnightsun-if]

Since a couple of you have asked for a full-fledged snippet/drabble of angst for the Vamp Moms™️, I decided to oblige and create a short drabble for you all!

This is more of internal grief than anything, but I hope it suffices in the angst department.

“Mama.”

A soft voice whispers out, a pleading edge to the tone, but she doesn't bother to turn around; only squeezes her eyes shut against the intruding noise. Trying her best to block out everything around her -- the noise of the city that lay beneath her feet, the soft vibrations from people living their daily life, of the whispered pleas of her children for her to come back to them, to stop the freefall she had been since her other half had been torn from her side.

She closed her eyes to block out the pain -- the sights and sounds that her Helena would never experience again -- while it also helped in blocking out the memories.

Every time she opened her eyes she was greeted by the sight of her bedroom, something that had once been her sanctuary, but was now her prison. A constant replay of events flickered across her mind as she looked the objects that meant something completely different now that her wife is gone -- the inanimate items taunting her for her failures.

Every time, when she feels well enough to traverse outside of her chambers, she hears the whispered conversations of her children, of her family, and is instantly reminded of the anguished cry that had escaped her mate before the unsettling silence had taken over. A silence that had only been broken by the cries of her own anguish when she had realized what had happened, when it was already too late.

Every time she blinks, Saraya is brought back to the sight of her mate's broken body -- so still against the carpeted ground of her study, a halo of red surrounding the once pristine white of her hair, crystalline blue eyes turned cold in their lifelessness.

Every time she closes her eyes, at least for the briefest of moments, Saraya is met by the sight of her wife's gentle smile, warmth suffused within her gaze, before the reality of Saraya's grief comes crashing back through her, shattering whatever haven her sleep-deprived mind had been able to conjure up.

"Mama. Please."

Her mind, no matter how much she pleaded with it to stop, to finally halt in her endless torment, kept replaying everything over and over again. Telling her everything she had already figured out since her mate had been taken from her.

She had failed.

She had failed her mate, her darling Helena.

She had failed her children, not being able to pull herself from the darkness that has entrapped her so.

She had failed her family, not being able to keep them safe even when she had always promised she would.

She had failed everyone, and now she was paying the price for it.

"Saraya, honey, please. We still need you."

Everything she had, everything she had accomplished, barring her beloved children, meant nothing now. Helena was gone. Taken. Murdered in the home they both had built. Her wife had always told her that she was like the Earth: dependable, strong, nurturing. But what Helena had never truly known was the simple fact that while Saraya may have been the Earth, she had always been her Sun. And now? Without her darling light to guide her way, without her Sun to orbit, she was drifting listlessly into the darkness of space, forever lost among the cosmos until she'd be able to find her Sun once more.

She couldn’t breathe knowing that Helena was no longer doing the same. Like the air was toxic and clogging up her lungs, only causing her sobs to become more and more erratic with each breath she takes. Her body folding in on itself because she couldn’t find the strength to keep standing. To appear strong and collected when her whole being was shattered beyond repair.

Her mind was only a vessel for her pain.

Her body was a prisoner to her despair.

Her heart was a hollow shell of what it used to be.

Despair crashes through her chest like a tidal wave, drowning her, making it hard to breathe. Tears escaping her eyes at a faster rate, the venom burning soft flesh as it tracks harshly down her cheeks. The sorrow consuming her and darkening her world. It was her fault Helena had been killed, if she had been paying attention, if she had simply allowed herself to be suspicious for once, then her darling mate, the love of her life, would still be by her side.

If she had simply listened to Helena's concerns, that the newest figure in her life, a man that seemed keen on starting up his own botanical store for the supernatural, seemed a bit too skittish for it to simply be written off as a character quirk.

If she had simply been able to see, beyond the lense of potentially making a new friend, something she hadn't been able to do in so long, then she would have been able to notice the look in his gaze every time he visited Celestia.

If she had simply been more aware than Helena wouldn't have had to push her out of the way.

If she had simply been better than her Helena would still be here, bringing joy and laughter to Saraya's world.

Instead, her world was now filled with nothing but despair and agony. Her body trapped in self-inflicted numbness, to everything, of course, except for her pain.

Her pain was the only thing that kept her close to her mate.

Her pain was the only thing that kept her wife alive.

Her pain was what she deserved for failing her Helena so completely.

She should have listened; her pain was only her punishment for not doing so.

[moongothic]

During the Alabasta Arc, do you think Crocodile would have changed his 10-year plan if he had found out earlier that Luffy was his child? or do you think he would have avoided fighting Luffy altogether?

We need to considder that WHEN Crocodile would've found out about that though, because it does impact the answer here. Since The Loof and Croccywocky clashed three whole times, that means there's a lot of room for things to go wrong

Generally speaking, I do feel like Crocodile would've been so far into his plans that even if he found out and Luffy himself started begging Crocodile to not go through with his plans, like, it'd be too late. The sunk cost fallacy would probably get him hard (since he had been working towards this whole thing for literal years) At the absolute-most, if he was feeling GENEROUS, I think he might go back on the plaza bombing, but he would need to still have Kohza, Cobra and whoever remained of the royal army who had heard about Vivi's letter to die (but those assassinations would be easy to orchestrate, Crocodile would just have to swoop in to take control of the situation after the forces "took each other out"). And most problematically, this would make Vivi's fate... rough. Crocodile couldn't possibly have Vivi live and stay in Alabasta if he wanted to go through with his plans, but obviously Luffy wouldn't let Crocodile kill Vivi, letting her loose wouldn't work, and it's not like Croc would be able to keep her prisoner locked away and hidden in some basement for the rest of her life (or at least until Crocodile has nuked the WG out of orbit, if Vivi wanted her country back at that point she could have it, but there's no way Nefertari "I will kill you" Vivi would agree to an arrangement like that)

Also there is the question of "how does Croc find out and does Luffy know also" that does complicate things, but god knows I can only do so much speculating with all these moving parts.

But yeah let's get to the actual speculation part

If Croc found pre-Rain Dinners; (With this one, we're assuming Luffy finds out at the same time) Honestly I think in utter shock and horror Crocodile would've probably tried to leave Luffy and co locked and imprisoned in Rain Dinners (maybe kill Smoker then and there just to get rid of him) while he and Robin would go to Alubarna. It'd just be the easiest way to deal with Luffy at that moment. He'd be left safe and sound in his secret basement in a Seastone cell where he couldn't get out and nobody could get him. Crocodile can go and deal with his nefarious schemes and worry about dealing with Luffy later. If however Luffy and co manage to escape (perhaps with some help from our beloved Mr Prince), things would get messy because Crocodile would have to try to figure out a way to stop Luffy and re-prison him so he won't get in Crocodile's way without really hurting the idiot? Like, I'm sure Croc could figure out a way to do that somehow (bury Luffy in sand or something), but Luffy... Like. At this point, Luffy would be so fucking pissed off at Croc I'm sure he'd have no issue whooping Crocodile's ass, father or not. Like I want to you imagine a vet trying to deal with a really fucking angry feral cat. That's what Crocodile dealing with Luffy would look like in this situation. It'd be a mess. But yeah, in this scenario, I feel like the end result would be A) Crocodile manages to put Luffy and co into timeout and manages to pull of his plans successfully. This would lead to Luffy, Vivi and co having an eternal vendetta and deep hatred against Crocodile but honestly I think he'd be fine with it (as long as the idiots wouldn't go on like, IDK, a hunger strike. But if Croc's plan to obtain Pluton was to save his son from the WG then it'd be a great, passive aggressive move for Luffy to starve to death just to ruin Croc's plans. The fuck's he gonna do to stop Luffy at that point?) Or B) Crocodile fails to put Luffy into timeout and gets his ass kicked, his schemes get foiled though whether this happens at Rain Dinners or at the Tombs does impact Crocodile's fate; like if it's the latter I'd imagine he'd get captured by the marines and taken to Impel Down as normal, OR if it was the former, if Luffy was feeling generous he might allow Crocodile to piss off after his ass kicking, licking his wounds (Vivi would probably let the whole world know about what Crocodile had tried to do and the WG would still take his Shichibukai Rights, IDK how things would go from there though)

Post-RD but pre-Palace Showdown; (With this one, we're assuming Luffy doesn't know Croc's his father) This would be interesting because if Crocodile found out Luffy was his son AFTER having stabbed the dumbass through his gut and left him to die in the desert... What would Crocodile do then? He'd believe he had killed his only son. Would he fall into despair and give up because nothing would matter anymore at this point? Try to blow up the damn bomb early and go down with it? Or maybe he would continue with the plan as intended but completely disassociating the whole time. Or maybe he'd go into utter denial, refusing to believe Luffy was his son and try to continue with the plan but now completely furious and mentally unstable? Regardless, Luffy is alive and does show up to stop Crocodile again. And that would be a great relief to Croc. In the "fall to despair and give up" scenario I feel like his plans might remain abandoned, but with the other scenarios maybe Croc would continue onwards with a new passion. But yeah he'd once again be stuck trying to deal with a very angry feral cat and try to imprison Luffy without hurting a hair on him, and we'd be stuck with mostly same final outcomes as in the Rain Dinners-scenario I discussed earlier

Final Showdown in the Tombs; (With this one we're assuming Luffy also found out) This could be the most complicated because after Robin reveals her betrayal Crocodile doesn't have an easy method to obtain Pluton, and all this other plans so far have kinda gone to shit. He wouldn't be able to really tell from the tombs that Pell took the bomb into the sky and stopped the bombing, like as far as he knows based on the rumbling the bomb probably went off as intended, but knowing how the Strawhats have foiled his plans so far it's not impossible the bombing might not have gone as he intended. (Yes I know the bomb goes off WHILE Croc and Luffy have their final showdown but if I write my speculation with that in mind it'll just be the same answer as in the previous scenario) So at this point, after having mummified Luffy and leaving him to die a second time, if he found out Luffy was his son... Again, how the hell would he react? The only difference is that at this point his plans have been pretty much successfully ruined (as far as he knows), it's joever, and he killed his son? Like what's left for him to do? At this point? Should he just sit in the tombs and wait to get crushed to death by the rubble? But of course, Luffy shows up again, alive and well. Once again, I think that would be a huge relief, but considdering how things have gone... Would Crocodile have the energy to try to continue his plans anymore at this point? Would he even want to put up a fight and try to finish what he started, to try to imprison Luffy? Or would he just throw in the towel, let Luffy beat his ass if he really wanted? (Not that Luffy would be satisfied with it if Crocodile just gave up when he was there to whoop the gator's ass IN COMBAT, it would be a fair fight nor satisfying to beat up Croc if he's just letting it happen)

I dunno there's a lot of moving pieces and a lot of potential on where things could go, we could be here all day writing out all the Alternative Timelines etc

[https-lvesick]

WELCOME TO HTTPS-LVESICK'S 1ST PLOT DONATION!

i'm excited for this project because these ideas had been sitting on my drafts for months and i can't write them, but sharing, i can give other writers some inspiration for amazing stories!

there aren't rules, but i need to make some things clear!

there won't be things like "plot already taken!" i'm sharing so little and the creativity has no end! so please don't make a fuss about it!

tag me! not because i want credits, but because i want to read your stories! your own way to tell them!

you can take all of them if you want to!

and that's it!

i hope i can give you guys some inspiration and open up your mind!

PS. if you guys have some plot or idea you can't elaborate further and you liked the way i described mine, send me! perhaps i can help you!

A (MC) B (Hero) C (Villain)

A is the love of B’s life—their heart, their weakness. Knowing this, C devises the perfect plan: kidnapping A, striking B exactly where it hurts most. But C isn’t a monster. Killing A was never the goal. The whole point was to lure B into a trap.

The problem? Time spent in close quarters with A begins to change things. Every conversation reveals another layer—witty, kind, unexpectedly radiant—and C finds themselves drawn to the very person they meant to use. It baffles them. How could someone so remarkable love someone as cold and selfish as B?

Without realizing it, C starts bending the rules. They go out of their way to make A comfortable, offering luxuries they don’t deserve to enjoy. They soften. And as their gestures grow more sincere, so does A’s perception of them. Slowly, A begins to see past the role of captor—to the person behind it.

By the time B finally locates A, it’s too late. The love they were so desperate to protect now belongs to someone else—someone who risked everything to make A feel cherished.

“You’re wasting your time if you’re hoping I’ll talk.” A’s voice is defiant. “I won’t give you anything.”

C’s eyes meet theirs, steady and sure. “I don’t need your secrets. I’m just saying if you were mine, I wouldn’t care about the world. It’s never given me anything, and I expect nothing from it.” Their voice softens, raw with something they can’t name. “But I would burn it all to the ground to keep you safe.”

Based on Attention by Charlie Puth

A and B have been entangled in a long-term, destructive relationship—an endless cycle of passion, heartbreak, and toxic love. When they finally break it off for what feels like the thousandth time, A tries to move on, seeking solace in new people and fresh starts. But no matter how far they run, B’s grip is unrelenting. Every time A begins to find happiness, B spreads whispers and lies, tearing apart A’s connections just to pull them back into their orbit.

At a crowded party, B is the center of attention, effortlessly charming, surrounded by admirers who hang on their every word. A watches from across the room, their blood simmering with jealousy. They know B is doing it on purpose—provoking, taunting—but it still ignites something primal and possessive inside them.

The final straw comes when someone leans too close, brushing against B with a flirtatious smile. That’s when A snaps.

They storm through the crowd, grab B by the arm, and drag them outside to the car. The night air is sharp, their breaths shallow and heated as they face off, tension crackling between them like a live wire.

The truth? A caused this. They fed the insecurity that now festers inside B. They broke each other so completely that toxicity became their language of love. And the worst part? Neither of them care enough to stop.

“You’ve been dragging my name through the mud. For what?” A’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp with fury. “Are you that desperate for my attention?”

B’s eyes burn with dark satisfaction. “You broke me,” they hiss, every word dripping with venom. “And now you think you’ll walk away happy? If I can’t have you, no one will.”

A is a renowned fashion designer at the pinnacle of success, the creative force behind a luxury brand synonymous with elegance and innovation. Years of tireless dedication turned their dream into reality, but the life they built—filled with prestige and influence—feels hollow. No partner, no children, nothing but the unrelenting demands of their empire. Their heart quietly aches for something deeper, something more.

So, when A enters a relationship with a charming, retired model, it feels like a step in the right direction. Beautiful, witty, and intriguing, their partner seems like the kind of person who could complete the picture—a future, a family, a shared dream. Everything made perfect sense. Until A met B.

B is their partner’s child. Young, magnetic, and undeniably captivating. From the moment B entered A’s life, something shifted. A spark, a pull they couldn’t ignore. The way B moved, the laughter that filled the air, the mind that held more depth and fire than A ever anticipated—every encounter left them breathless, wanting.

And therein lay the heart of the dilemma. The lines were blurred, and the feelings that surged were dangerously real. Torn between obligation and desire, A grappled with a truth they never imagined would undo them.

“I can’t. I won’t. It’s my parent. They don’t deserve this,” B whispered, the weight of restraint heavy in their voice.

“And I have my own principles,” A murmured, their heart caught between reason and longing. “So say it—say you want me the way I want you, and I’ll be honest with them. Completely, painfully honest. I owe them that. But if you don’t…” A’s voice broke, eyes searching B’s. “Then this ends. I can’t keep lying to myself. And I sure as hell won’t lie to someone as good as your parent. No matter how much it hurts.”

Silence. The air between them pulsed with things unspoken, a storm of feelings fighting to be free. Some truths were impossible to bury. And others... were impossible to resist.

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung

[hypocratic]

@eviji

Total darkness is difficult to achieve.

Space itself is not entirely dark; it is littered with stars and whatever else we propel into it. Science is the discovery of what we are willing to do for knowledge. Ipso facto, ethics exists. And Institutional Review Boards. To curtail that pursuit, shrink its orbit, minimize casualties. The world has decided, broadly speaking, the end does not justify the means. In fact, in the field of psychology, people must never be the means—no matter the importance of the end or the unimportance of the man. Dr. Chilton does not fully adhere to these agreements.

Any presence of light within this room, however dotted or minuscule, would ruin the illusion. Sealed with new, custom rubber lining, the door blocks all luminescence from the outside hallway. There are no windows for light to palette the cushioned walls; Rifat will never know their true color: he enters anesthetized and in the dark, he leaves anesthetized and in the dark.

To Dr. Chilton, the walls are teal. Because he knows they are teal. Even now, in the absence of light, to him, they are teal. He is a practical, boastful man. He enjoys being privy to the most basic of undisclosed details. He does not imagine he is in space. Or that the walls are white or red or nonexistent. Frivolous mental exercises like this don't excite him. What excites him is knowing what others do not. And uncovering that which others wish to keep private.

Without atoms, sound cannot travel. Space is an atomless, soundless gaping gap with the rare disturbance of life. Technically, voices should be stripped here. As lost as the teal walls. But it is necessary for Rifat to hear him. In Rifat's state, the suspension of disbelief that they are able to vocally communicate in the vacuum of space is easily suggestible. With ketamine in his system, Rifat would believe they are communicating telepathically were Dr. Chilton to so much as imply it.

Rifat floats in a sensory deprivation tank. Wet jumpsuit clinging to his limbs like shed skin. The saline water is two feet deep. The exact temperature of skin. Unnoticeable yet pleasant. Nurses loosely bound his wrists and ankles to the edges of the tank to prevent accidental capsize drowning.

When Dr. Chilton—sitting in a plastic, foldout chair in the corner of the room—hears the water slosh, he knows Rifat is awake. Voice gentle but firm, like a potter's hands to dizzy clay:

"The empty, black space you dream of occupying is within you. It has been there the whole time. You are there now. Inside yourself. Here, you are weightless. Unburdened. Safe. Everything is felt but unseen. Like your lungs, your kidneys, your heart. One knows these intimately but could not pick them out in a visual lineup." Frederick Could. A unique insight courtesy of Abel. "Most organisms cannot grow in darkness. Many, however, live in it. You are one such creature. You reach into that empty, black space, grope what you hope is there, and feel warmth in its place. You try to identify this phenomena by touch but it is as receptive as air." How much can Dr. Chilton take from Rifat and not of Rifat? He is the ship of Theseus, remaking himself. "You are receptive. Not empty. Elements have different boiling points. Unknown solutions can be identified if you know how much it takes for each to burn. Feelings are the same. This phenomena never boils. You identify it as love. The empty, black space you dream of occupying is within you. It has been there the whole time. It is love. You are there now. I am, too. As is Margot. Love is filling you. Fulfilling you. You are receptive. Not empty." Dr. Chilton continues on in spiraling circles.