#and everyone i know is somewhere on the spectrum between

[skys-archive]

I think the reason the start of this year feels so depressing to me is because it means it's happening. I truly have no idea what may happen next and how scary it may be and that's fucking terrifying.

I don't know what he'll do and what he'll get away with and that's terrifying.

[byuntrash101]

big bad wolf

f!reader x bangchan ft. stray kids smut | mdni 2.6k maybe you bit off more than you could chew when you hyped up your game to the campus’ infamous big dick owner nsfw tags under the cut

#5: huge dick + size kink (twt p☆rnlink) college!au, toxic ex bf!minho, frat boy!bangchan, alcohol consumption, one night stand, explicit consent asked and given, chan is really a tease, gentle dom!chan, daddy kink (i mean we're talking about chan here) , size kink (reader is smaller than chan), huge monster cock!bangchan, size training, protected sex (good job), oral (f), multiple orgasms, some humor at the end ♡

a/n : i was like this 🥴🥴🥴 writing this because ughhh im in love with this bangchan! wanna see the other entries for the event? check out the link <3

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

“I mean being single is great and all” you said while downing the rest of the ungodly cocktail your best friend mixed for you earlier at the party. Before she left with Jisung. “But like I miss the toxic sex, ya know?” Christopher nodded his head while he took the empty cup from your hand to set it at the table beside the both of you on the couch.

The party was over so to speak. Everyone had left or was just passed out on random surfaces all over the frat. ΝΣΒ (nu sigma beta) was the frat that organized the best parties on campus. Well the second best parties but ΩΔΦ (omega delta phi) had Minho going to their parties and well you were finally over him that wasn't to run into him at a random party to drink and hook up with him again. You were determined to break free of the destructive cycle. That’s how you came to attend the parties here and met Christopher and his frat bros Changbin and Jisung. These three were quite the trio. Well not right now because Jisung was probably fucking your best friend somewhere and Changbin was passed out over the keg. Only Christopher remained somewhat (if not entirely) sober. He didn’t like alcohol that much, he claimed.

“Yeah I get you dude. Toxic sex is the best…” Christopher sighed. “But why though?”

“I don’t know man!” you said with a pout. “Also my ex was like… packing” the alcohol in your system was making it harder to perceive the fine line between sharing past experiences and simply oversharing. But Christopher wasn’t phased by it at all. On the contrary he was… intrigued.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Bro, he was real big. Like real big.” you said, closing your eyes trying to recall the extraordinary appendix Minho was blessed with. “The biggest I’ve ever seen really. I just miss that…” you said, finally opening your eyes again, purposefully avoiding thinking about your ex’s devil dick for too long before you drunkenly run to the other side of campus and to him again. When you open your eyes you see Christopher looking at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Well yeah. I miss someone that’s used to dealing with guys that are on the bigger end of the spectrum” Christopher was speaking very carefully, he was very clearly trying to hint at something but at the same time he didn’t want to come off as pressing or bragging.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” you asked as neutral as you could be, but still picking up on Christopher’s hint.

“Well you know. Girls always say it’s what they want. But like when I pull it out they either just run away or I mean they pull through but I can tell they’re not enjoying it. So I usually cut things short.” 

It’s true you heard one or two rumors about Christopher also being on the bigger end but you never paid attention to them. Now, they were suddenly running back to you.

“I just wanna be with a girl that's kinky and that you know… just enjoys herself with me”

Suddenly you were looking at him differently. You looked at his big biceps resting crossed over his chest and the sleeveless loose fitted white top. He was wearing a cap that covered his soft brown curls but they were still peaking at the back of his head and around his reddened ears. 

All of a sudden you were painfully conscious of Chris’ sheer size. Even though he was simply sitting next to you his large sturdy shoulders occupied the space on the couch. You found your eyes wandering to his lower half where his muscular thighs generously filled the black basketball shorts. And eventually your gaze wandered to his groin where you did notice a particularly remarkable bulge.

“You know, bro?” Chris took off the cap briefly, combing his hair with one large hand before flipping it backwards and patting it back on. He looked a little bit frustrated.

“Yeah I get it.”

Silence settled.

“Looks like we could like… help each other… maybe” you started carefully. That was uncharted territories, you didn’t know how Chris was going to react but you were a little intoxicated and that made you forget about the consequences or more like postpone thinking about them. You’ll do that tomorrow.

A cocky smirk spread on Chris’ face. An expression you had yet to witness. Usually he was all about wholesome smiles and cute laughs. But this one, this expression stirred excitement and thrill within you.

“Wanna see the big bad wolf?” Chan said right before sending you a cheeky wink that left you speechless. Before he started laughing out loud and lightly pushed you on the arm. “Just messing with you” Chris said, returning to the sunny smile.

“Why are you all cocky for anyway?” you outbid. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen” you said, shrugging, eyes a little defiant. And Chris’ smirked returned to his handsome face just as quick. He felt a tingle in his lower half. He enjoyed that attitude you had right now. Wouldn’t it be fun to make you swallow those words? Amongst other things…

“Think you can handle it, babygirl?” Chan said, extending his massive arm behind your head on the couch and leaning on to you, making you feel even smaller. You took a whiff of his cologne, the alluring aromas or vanilla, cedar and citrus casting a spell on you.

“Yeah of course I can” you said, steady voice oozing all the confidence in the world. Making Chris chuckle again. 

***

Well maybe you couldn’t…

That is what you thought when Christopher dragged you to his room as the early rays of the dawning sun were licking the blinds. 

“Having second thoughts, babygirl?” Christopher said, smiling down at you while you looked up at him and sat on his bed. The loose fitting top was all he had left on him. Even the cap was now littering the ground, letting the soft brown curls loose. and you silently thanked the heavens for this. Maybe if he would have been completely nude you would have died right there.

He was absolutely breathtaking: large shoulders, thick arms and veiny forearms going down to his big hand holding the absolute monster that usually peacefully rested between his sturdy thighs. But right now it was awakened, and awaiting.

The thing was not only incredibly massive but also unbelievably long. Thick veins ornamented the length of it from the base to the red and dripping tip.

“So am I bigger than your ex?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Um, yeah a little bit I think” 

Lie. Big fat lie.

Christopher knew that. He knew that very well but he appreciated that you kept up with that act. He found that amusing.

“Perfect! Let’s get started then” 

“What?” you said as he wrapped his warm hands around both your wrists, gently pushing you down on the mattress until you laid there with only your feet hanging off the bed. He put your wrists at each side of your face, laying his weight over you. He was heavy, but it was comforting, reassuring. You felt small but also safe under him. The heat from his body ignited a fire within you.

“Don’t worry babygirl” Chris whispered leaning into your ear. You felt his hot breath fanning your burning cheek. “Daddy will get you nice and ready for him.” You felt yourself flutter at the name. You were definitely responding to it.

Christopher licked big swipe on your ear making your breath itch in your throat and you bit your lip to repress a moan. Fortunately you didn’t have to think about it too much because Chris kissed you instantly, one of his hands leaving your wrist to wrap around your throat, his thumb pulling on your chin to open your mouth. You didn’t fight back, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like energy drinks and tropical fruit juice. Now you knew for sure he was completely sober. But Chris, on the other hand, wasn't so sure anymore, because he sure felt drunk right now. Drunk in you, in this kiss. He threw himself into you, moaning in your mouth as you arched your back and he rolled his hips into you, pressing his hard cock onto your hip.

Before you could think too much about it Chris stripped you of your clothes, one article after the other until you found yourself completely exposed to him. Chris got up and took a step back to admire your body under the rays of the sun piercing through the blinds. You were gorgeous, stunning and he couldn’t wait to finally be inside you.

He then pulled on your hips to bring you on the edge of the bed where he kneeled on the ground and gently parted your legs. 

“Fuckk” he cursed under his breath when he saw your cute little pussy already glistening with need and lightly twitching. He only wanted one thing: to taste you. So he did.

He first laid a gentle kiss on your clit which made you jolt up and he smirked against you in satisfaction.

“Awww baby. Are you always this sensitive or is it daddy doing that to you?” He licked a large stripe from your entrance to your clit, staying there for a second giving more attention to the sensitive bud. 

“F-fuckkk. No it’s y-you” you breathed in, arching your back and fisting the sheets beneath you. “Daddy is doing this to m-me”

Christopher felt his heavy length jump just as the mention of the word in your mouth, it sounded so fucking good, so fucking sexy. It made him want to please you, be good for you.

He licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen bud earning more moans and pants from you. Until your cunt was throbbing against his lips and your heart was beating in your ears.

“Im… Fuck… gonna c-cum” you said lifting your face to see Christopher looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Go ahead baby. Cum for daddy”

You came undone at the end of his tongue, your walls fluttering around nothing, thick slick gushing out of you and covering Chris’ face. 

“God fuck.. don’t- s-stop” you begged, tensing up your legs and your orgasm ripped through you. Chris didn't stop there, instead he gradually slowed down to help you down your high at your own rhythm.

“Fuckkk... Please daddy I need you inside me” you said looking at him. And he got back on his feet again. With disconcerting ease he grabbed you at the hips and flipped you on your stomach and lifted you so you were on all fours. 

He reached for his night stand where he took out of one of the drawers a condom and tore the wrapper hastily. 

“Was hoping you’d say that babygirl”

As soon as the condom was on he brought his tip to your soaked and fluttering little hole. You were feeling desperately empty and you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of Chris’ big fat cock. You wiggled your hips to urge him to fill you up.

“Are you ready baby?” he asked, making sure one last time you were still on board. 

“Yess daddy.. Yes please. Don't make me beg” You said, despair dripping from your lips. And Christopher resisted the urge to do just that. Maybe another time.

He started to push his huge cock inside you and you braced yourself feeling your walls expand beyond belief to accommodate the thick and hard length. Very slowly Chris continued to progress inside you. You gritted your teeth, fisting the sheet even harder and exhaling a faint complaint.

“It’s okay baby. You can do it. Big breaths, ok?” Chris encouraged you before continuing.

Thanks to Chris’ prepping,  the pain was bearable. Now you didn't even have a single shadow of a doubt left. Chris was indeed bigger than Minho. 

Soon enough he managed to push the whole monstrous thing inside you.

“There you go baby” Chris said gently stroking your back. “That’s my good girl. Say when daddy can move okay, darling?” he laid a soft kiss to the crown of your back, his voice appeared to be somewhat strained. Your tightness was also hard to handle on his part.

“Ok” you huffed quietly.

You took a couple of seconds to get used to him but eventually the pain disappeared. 

“You… can move”

Slowly Chris started to pull out only to push right back in when his tip was just barely hinging in. 

“Oh- fuckfuckfuck” you panted. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good for daddy” Chris said, pulling out once again.

He repeated the process until he felt you relax around him and the sharp breaths and sighs turned into moans and whines. 

“Fuckk so… so fucking big” you said arching your back while Chirs’ big hands wrapped around your waist to pull you back on his cock everytime he was pushing in. 

“Fuck your little cunt is so wet and tight for me baby”

“Hmmm daddy” you whined. “Please faster”

“Fuck so fucking naughty” he said as started to fuck you faster, deeper, dragging your precious nectar on his cock and making you moan louder.

“Fuck I won’t last long baby”

“Pleasepleaseplease daddy I'm almost there” 

Chris circled your hip and brought two fingers to rub circles on your clit, you threw your head back, completely letting go of the last bit of sanity you had left. Chris felt you throbbing around his cock.

“Fuck daddy…I'm cumminggg” 

“That's it cum for daddy” Chris said, his voice was strained as he felt you flutter around him, urging him to let got. Spurts of hot cum rushed into the condom as he hips became erratic, as continuously fucked into you until you were both satifed and out of breath. 

You collapsed and he rolled next to you, taking the condom off and tying it before rushing to the bathroom and returning with a warm towel and handing it to you. 

“Fuck that was… amazing” he told you with a bright smile that you knew. 

“So you like being called daddy? Now I understand why you’re into kinky girls.” you said, raising an eyebrow, teasingly.

“Oh– Hm.. well. Yeah… sorry it was like in the heat of the moment” he scratched the side of his face before ruffling his brown curls.

“Oh don't worry about it. I liked it” 

“We should like.. do that again sometimes… I mean if you're down”

It’s funny how he started all cocky and confident and now he was the one stumbling on his words and being flustered. You found that cute.

“Yeah we should”

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” You heard Jisung’s loud voice coming from the hall. “WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR PRACTICE” He fumbled with the door handle. “WHY IS YOUR DOOR CLOSED?”

“Get the fuck out Jisung. I’m busy” Chris said and you giggled.

“Bro, I think he’s fucking someone in there” Jisung said, this time to someone else.

“OI, MATE WHO’S IN THERE WITH YOU?? IS IT Y/N??” Felix’ unmistakably low voice asked.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT“ Chris shouted.

“Fuck… I think you made him mad.” Felix said.

“Bro how the fuck is it me? You the one who insisted” You heard the two voices getting further.

“Don’t pay attention to them” Chris said and you both laughed and went back to bed, to get a well deserved couple of hours of sleep before a day full of college classes.

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

a/n: thanks for reading babe if you enjoyed reblig or leave a comment because delulu is the solulu <3

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Read part one: 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 to understand the story...

Synopsis: Young and successful, Stray Kids are dominating the world with their ongoing tour. While the other members have moved on and found their own happiness, Chan remains trapped in the bittersweet memories of your love and the pain of your breakup.

A few years later when you attend their concert at the front row, fate decides to bring back the world it once shattered.

Content Warnings: Second chance. Tears, mention of alcohol, hurt, comfort, getting back together.

Note: This is the part two, the idea which won in this poll I posted. Sorry that it took so long to be uploaded ^^;

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:4.4k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The wind brushed strands of hair on your face, the surrounding bustling with excitement, chatters and giggling as you stood in front of the enormous stadium, large enough to fit over eighty thousand people.

“Ah I'm gonna see Stray Kids for the first time!” An excited fan smiled and exclaimed, posing in front of the stadium doors with their SKZOO plushie and lightstick.

Others were making their way inside, dressed in gorgeous outfits, everyone equally excited to see the eight idols dominate the stage.

You watched as everyone made their way in, yet you stood in front of the stadium, your heart torn between deciding if you should go inside or just turn back and go to the airport.

It's been five years.

Five years since you last saw him. In front of you. His dimpled smile, Australian accent, killing eyes that you once fell for.

And you still are. Even after all this time.

“Are you lost?” A voice startled you. You turned around to see a security guard looking at you curiously, you've been standing without a movement for quite some time.

“Oh no, I—” you stuttered but then showed your phone to the guard.

He took a look at your screen, front row, and pointed you in the direction towards the VIP entrance. "You're right this way," the guard said with a polite nod, stepping aside to let you through.

Your feet felt heavy as you took slow, deliberate steps toward the entrance, the distant thumping of the bass from inside the stadium reverberating through your chest.

Your grip tightened around your phone, knuckles turning white as your emotions warred within you. Excitement, anxiety, and something deeper, an ache that never quite healed.

As you entered the stadium, the roar of the crowd swallowed you whole. The stage was massive, glowing in a spectrum of colors that danced across the eager faces of thousands of fans.

You took your seat in the front row, surrounded by a sea of lightsticks waving in unison, creating an ocean of pulsating red.

In the backstage, the eight RockStars were preparing to get on stage. Felix and I.N were fixing their earpieces and straightening their outfits, Lee Know and Changbin helping each other rehearse their lines but mostly just joking around.

Seungmin was fixing the chords of his guitar while Han did a quick facetime with his girlfriend back home and Hyunjin was being sneaky with his girlfriend somewhere backstage.

And there was Bang Chan. His eyes drifted across the bustling backstage area, his members were thriving, finding happiness in ways he once imagined for himself.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was happy for them—genuinely. Like the best leader he always was.

Amidst the excitement and anticipation of another sold-out show, he couldn’t ignore the emptiness that still lingered in his heart.

"Hyung," Felix’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You good?"

Chan blinked and nodded quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. Let's kill the stage.”

Felix studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press further and bumped fists with him. "You know we always do.”

“Boys! It's time!” Chan called out, the members gathered one by one, forming a circle and putting their hands in front.

“Step out! We are STRAY KIDS!”

They chanted in unison and prepared to get on stage. A montage of their journey played on the enormous screens, and cheers erupted as the lights dimmed.

The opening VCR ended, and the members took the stage one by one, their energy electrifying the atmosphere. You watched as Han and Hyunjin emerged first, followed by Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know, I.N, Changbin.

And then… Bang Chan.

He walked onto the stage with the same effortless charisma that once made your world revolve around him. Your heart pounded behind your chest, he looked almost the same as he did five years ago but now more stronger and powerful.

True to the name of their tour, the eight stars indeed dominated the stage with their energetic music, dance and performance, the crowd erupting in waves of cheers and screams.

The setlist carried on, the members pouring their souls into every performance, when Chan's gaze swept over the front row and landed on you, everything shifted.

Time froze in that instant, only the locked space between you and Chan floating in the air. Your heart clenched as his eyes widened, refusing to believe that it was indeed you in front of him tonight.

The girl he once had to let go because loving you had come at a cost too heavy to bear.

Chan’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was. The thundering bass, the flashing lights, the deafening cheers—all of it faded into the background. It was just you. Standing there.

Looking up at him with those same eyes that once held his entire world.

Distressing nights crashed into his mind.

The brown liquid stung and burned when it made its way down his throat. It was strong and bitter, like chewing and swallowing medicine.

Only three glasses of whiskey and that reached the limit. It didn't do anything to numb the pain and the fire burning in his chest.

Han and Changbin watched their friend struggling to cope after his break up with you. Han got up from the couch and silently moved the bottle and glass away from Chan whose head had fallen back on his desk chair.

“Chan Hyung..." Han’s voice had been soft yet firm, like he was talking to a fragile child. “This isn’t the way to deal with it.”

Chan’s head lolled to the side, his bloodshot eyes meeting Han’s concerned gaze. “Then what is?” he rasped, his voice cracking from shouting into the void earlier.

“What do I do, Han? Tell me, because every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out of that door. Every time I breathe, it feels like she’s still here, but she’s not. She’s gone.”

After you left, Chan was grieving the entire night, unable to work or do anything at all. He had promised to not contact you again but impulsivity led him to go to your apartment only to find out that you had moved out without a single trace. His friends tried to contact you through social media, but everything related to you had vanished overnight, as if nothing about you ever existed, crushing his soul in and out.

Changbin had sighed heavily, gently placing his hand on Chan's shoulder. “Hyung, you know we’re here for you, right? But killing yourself like this, drinking until you pass out, it’s not going to bring her back.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan had snapped, his voice hoarse with frustration and heartbreak. For the first time YEARS Chan raised his voice that made Changbin and Han flinch.

“I let her go. I had to, for the group, for the fans, for everything that wasn’t her. And now...” His voice broke. “Now, I don’t even know who I am without her.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the studio equipment. Han had stepped closer, his expression pained but resolute.

“Then find yourself again, Hyung. Please. It’ll hurt, but you have to. For us, for the fans and for her. But we know that one day you'll reunite again…”

That night had been a turning point. He had thrown himself into his work with relentless fervour, using the music to drown out the noise of his heartbreak.

But no matter how many songs he wrote, how many hours he spent producing, he could never erase the phantom of you.

Now, five years later, that phantom was standing right in front of him, flesh and bone and as breathtaking as ever

His fingers curled tightly around the mic, knuckles white, but years of performing instinct kicked in. He forced himself to move, to sing, to dance—but it wasn’t the same anymore.

Every step felt heavier, every lyric hit closer to home, and every glance at you chipped away at the careful walls he’d built around his heart.

“You okay?” Lee Know mouthed between the choreography, nudging him subtly.

Chan could only nod, blinking hard to refocus. His body was working on its own, but his heart and mind wandered elsewhere.

While maintaining professionalism and his usual banter on stage along with the members, interacting with fans, every now and then he took a glance at you, who continued to watch him with nothing but pride filled in your eyes at how far he has come.

One part of your heart was happy that he still remembered you even if the both of you can never be together again, and another part of it ached at the past feelings and the shattering heartbreak.

Your grip tightened around the lightstick in your hand. Chan saw the way your chest rose and fell unevenly, saw the way your lips pressed together as if holding back tears.

With their final act, for a long time Chan's gaze only glued to your row, wrapping up their show for the night.

One by one Stray Kids bid their goodbyes and began disappearing into the darkness. The crowd erupted into cheers, some were emotional, others wore a huge smile on their faces for having the best night of their lives.

While you remained not knowing how to feel.

Not knowing if you should feel happy for finally having the courage to attend a concert and see Chan after so many years or hold your heart that's in pieces and go back home knowing that's the final you're giving yourself to ever see him again.

With a low exhale, you turned away to the exit when the same security guard who helped you inside stopped in front of you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, feeling slightly intimidated by his tall figure.

“Wear this,” he handed you a black mask, “and come with me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the black mask in your hand. “I—I'm sorry, but what is this for?” you asked, your voice cautious.

The guard remained impassive, his gaze steady but not unkind. “You’ll know soon enough. Just put it on and follow me.”

Hesitation gripped you. You swallowed hard, your heart was still racing from the concert, from Chan’s lingering gaze that felt like it was reaching deep into your soul.

Should you run away? But something in the guard’s gaze said that it could be something you might not expect, so reluctantly, you slipped the mask over your face, tugging it securely behind your ears before nodding at the guard.

Without another word, he turned and led you through a side passage that veered away from the exiting crowd.

The further you walked, the louder your heartbeat became, echoing in your ears like the remnants of a song you weren’t ready to let go of.

The corridor was dimly lit, the hum of staff members and distant voices filling the space. It smelled of sweat, stage fog, and something unmistakably nostalgic.

You were led past a heavy curtain, and suddenly, the guard stopped. “Wait here,” he said firmly before disappearing behind a door, leaving you standing in what looked like the backstage area.

You blinked, taking in the chaotic but empty space around you—rows of clothing racks, half-empty water bottles scattered across tables, a faint hum of music still reverberating through the walls.

As you turned around, you caught the sight of two guys, standing frozen in place like they had just seen a ghost. You recognised them instantly (well obviously), memories flooding back when you were like your own little friend group.

Han’s mouth fell unhinged while Hyunjin's eyes threatened to pop out of his sockets.

Your heart raced like a freight train, swallowing hard you smiled. “Uh…hi?”

“No way.” Han was the first to recover, shaking his head with a bewildered chuckle. “Are we dreaming? Is she actually here?” He nudged Hyunjin hard enough to make him stumble. “Dude, say something.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted, his gaze scanning you like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

Slowly the other members appeared one after another, gathering before you, like a long-lost family reunion frozen in time. Each of them stood there, wide-eyed, their expressions shifting from disbelief to cautious joy.

Your chest tightened, emotions welling up at the sight of them all together again. Memories hit you like waves—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and the way they always made you feel like you belonged.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering under their weighty stares. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Han’s smile faded slightly, his eyes softening. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You just—poof. Gone.”

Hyunjin finally found his voice, quieter than before. “We looked for you, you know? But you disappeared without a trace.”

You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you. “I had to. I... I couldn't stay.”

Before anyone could respond, a familiar face cut through the air, appearing behind Changbin. The moment you saw him, your heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Air was knocked out of your lungs.

Chan stepped into view, his breath hitching with a soft smile the second his eyes locked onto yours.

“Hey my love,” he breathed, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the silence like a deafening confession.

You bit your lip as your chin wobbled, tears gushing up your eyes, so close to falling. You stood rooted to the spot, your pulse pounding in your ears. His dark eyes swept over you, lingering on every familiar detail as if he was afraid that you’d disappear again if he blinked.

Chan walked towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls, each step feeling like a lifetime as he closed the distance between you.

You touched your elbow, hoping it would hold you from falling on the floor, your breathing increased with every passing second.

“Let's give them a moment…” you faintly heard Felix tell the others, you could see them disappearing but nothing could be registered other than Chan who stood in front of you.

Present and achingly real.

Tears blurred your vision, the moment you blinked they rolled down your cheeks. Chan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hand twitching as if unsure whether to touch you or not.

But then, without another thought, he cupped your cheek so gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled.

Words were stuck in your throat. Time was frozen. A longing warmth engulfed you. You leaned into his touch instinctively, your hands trembling as they reached up to hold his wrist.

A shaky breath left your lips as you held onto him, trying to soak in the warmth you had been deprived of for so long. Chan smiled softly and pulled you into his arms holding you tightly against his chest, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Your eyes widened, then closed, your hands gripping his back, hugging him back equally tightly.

Held back sobs broke free, you choked as you let your tears fall and soak his top, holding onto Chan unwilling to let him go.

Chan held the back of your head, not speaking a word but his throat was tight, holding back his emotions biting the lower lip, his eyes shut but lashes brimming with tears.

His arms tightened around you, his grip was desperate, his heart hammering against your ear, a silent confession of everything he never got to say.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and heavy with years of unsaid words. “I’m so…so sorry.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, pressing your face deeper into his chest. “Don’t,” you managed to croak out between your sobs.

Your body shook with quiet sobs against him, your fists clutching the fabric of his top as if it could hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

"I missed you," you choked out, the confession slipping through your tears.

"I never wanted to let you go," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I didn't have a choice... they—"

"I know," you whispered, cutting him off, your voice raw with pain.

You remembered that devastating evening when you walked out of his apartment, closing the door behind you and heard a loud crash soon after. With every ounce left in your body you walked away, refusing to look back.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes, those same dark, expressive eyes you fell in love with, were bloodshot and glassy with unshed tears. You could see everything in them. The pain. The regret. The love that never faded.

“I left that day,” you continued, your voice trembling, “telling you my heart belonged to you… yours to love and yours to break.” Your lips wobbled, fresh tears slipping down. “And it still does, Chan. Even after all this time.”

Chan’s face contorted in anguish, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks again, trying to wipe away years of pain. "I never wanted to break you," he whispered. “I'm so sorry for hurting you my love, I'm so fucking sorry…”

You swallowed hard, your eyes searching his. "Did you ever move on?"

Chan shook his head instantly, his grip on you tightening. “No,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “I tried, but...how could I? You were everywhere. In my music, in my dreams, in every damn thing I did.”

He laughed bitterly, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I wrote songs about you... but I couldn't say your name. I couldn't even let them know who they were really about."

You sniffled, a small, broken smile tugging at your lips, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Chan let out a choked laugh, pulling you even closer.

Silence stretched between you, the weight of the years apart pressing down, but in this moment, none of it mattered. It was just you and him, tangled in a mess of heartbreak and longing.

Your hand cupped his face, his skin was hot under your palm, he leaned in, soaking your touch, as if this was the first time in five years he could finally let his feelings out.

Your heart pounded against your chest, but you whispered, "I don't know what happens now.”

Chan opened his eyes, brushing a strand of hair being your ear, a desperate kind of hope in his gaze.

"We try," he said softly. "If you'll let me...we try again. I don't care what it takes, sweetheart. I lost you once, and I can't do it again.”

The scars never healed and wounds were still fresh. Could you do it again? Could you believe in him? Let yourself fall back into the world you once built together, knowing how easily it could shatter all over again?

His gaze was searching yours, silently pleading for an answer. But he could see it, the fear etched across your face, the hesitation flickering in your eyes.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice laced with understanding. “I know you’re afraid. I am too.” He leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “But I swear, I won’t let you get hurt again. I won't let you go.”

Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but before you could say anything, Chan’s mouth crashed with yours.

You froze, eyes widened, but you melted into him in a heartbeat, letting his tongue slip past your lips and kiss you fiercely.

Love, hurt, fear, anger, desperation.

His hand held your neck as your fingers snaked through his hair, teeth against teeth, breaths colliding, there was no room to breathe.

You gasped against his mouth, the tears slipping between your lips, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, urgent and unrelenting, you both were trying to make up for all the lost time, for all the moments you could have had but were cruelly stolen from you.

Finally, when air became an undeniable necessity, Chan pulled back, his breath ragged and hot against you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For everything. For letting them take you away from me. I should have fought harder. I should have—”

You silenced him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips, shaking your head as fresh tears welled up. “We both got hurt, Chan,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But I always hoped that one day I could find my way back to you.”

You played a trembling smile that made Chan’s breath catch, his dark eyes glistening with a mix of relief and longing.

The weight of what felt like an eternity of lost years pressed heavily between you both. You remembered the nights you spent staring at the empty space beside you, wondering if he missed you as much as you missed him.

And now, standing in front of him, you saw it, the same ache, the same yearning in his eyes. He missed you just as much, refusing to move on and playing a smile on his face that was convincing enough to make everyone think he was fine.

But only the ones who knew, knew that he wasn't.

Chan's fingers intertwined with yours, his forehead pressing on yours as he exhaled a long breath, living in the moment.

“Can we try again?” His breath ghosted over your skin, his voice so raw and filled with a quiet desperation that it made your chest tighten painfully.

Your lips parted, your pulse hammering in your ears. “What if we end up breaking all over again?” The vulnerability in your voice made his brows furrow, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that almost unraveled you.

His thumb traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “Then we’ll piece ourselves back together,” he said softly, his voice steady yet laced with the same fear you held.

You swallowed hard, staring into his eyes—the eyes you had once memorized, the eyes that haunted your dreams every night. “I’m still scared,” you admitted, voice shaking.

Chan let out a breathy chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I’m scared too, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“But I’d rather be scared with you than be without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he was quick to catch it with his thumb, his touch lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his voice cracking.

“I missed you too, Channie. Every single day.”

Chan bit his lip smiling yet his eyes held a wave of fresh tears, his dimple deepening, that same dimple that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked for the third time, hope still lingering across his features, refusing to give up.

He fought himself, blamed himself, hated himself for letting you slip away from him that easily.

But now he was determined to win you back no matter the cost. Because sometimes the heart remembers what the mind tries to forget. And love has a way of finding its way back, even through the wreckage.

A shiver ran down your spine, voices in your mind screaming for you to not fall for false hope even though your heart begged you to not let him go.

Your fingers reached up, tracing the curve of his cheek, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Chan watched you curiously and cautiously, you closed your eyes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you to a reality that felt both terrifying and beautiful.

And in that moment, despite the fears clawing at your soul, you nodded—slowly, hesitantly—but it was enough.

His hug engulfed you again, letting out a shaky sob but traced with a low laugh, relief washing over him, finally giving the chance to forgive himself.

“Thank you,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

And you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, a real, genuine smile playing on your lips for the first time, letting yourself get lost in the world you once walked out from.

Bang!

The loud sound of the popper tube made both your hearts threaten to jump out of your throats, pieces of shiny gold and silver confetti swirling around you in a cascade of shimmering light.

You gasped, instinctively gripping onto Chan’s top as laughter erupted from behind you. The guys stood there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous kids, their faces full of warmth and excitement.

Felix, holding the empty confetti popper, yelled “Surprise!” breaking the emotional tension with his infectious, sunshine energy.

You blinked, feeling the weight of the moment give way to laughter as Hyunjin threw his arms in the air. “Finally! I was starting to think you two would just stare at each other forever.”

Chan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, his arm securely wrapped around your waist and the other hand rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and radiant.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you wiped the tears away, feeling the love, the warmth of the people who once felt like family. Changbin walked up, his usual tough exterior melting as he patted Chan on the shoulder.

“Don’t mess it up this time.”

“I won’t,” Chan said firmly and his gaze locked with yours. “Not again.”

Felix bounced over, wrapping both you and Chan in a sudden hug, his voice soft but full of emotion. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you,” he murmured. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I missed you all too,” you whispered, your heart swelling.

Chan’s fingers tightened around your waist, grounding you in the moment. He leaned in, his voice low and meant only for you. “So… are you staying?”

You gazed up at him, the memories of your love flashing behind your eyes. The late-night conversations, the way he used to hold you when the world felt too heavy, the way you were destined to find your way back to each other, no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, a soft smile breaking across your lips. “Yeah, Channie. I’m staying.”

A loud cheer erupted from the guys, Felix jumping up and down with I.N, Han dramatically fake-crying into Hyunjin’s shoulder, Lee Know nodding, draping his arm around Changbin's shoulder, showing a thumbs up at Chan, while Seungmin simply smirked, satisfied.

Chan’s eyes shone with something you hadn’t seen in a long time, pure, unfiltered happiness. He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“We’re gonna make it work this time. I promise.”

You smiled looking up at Chan and leaned your head against his body, his lips brushing against your hair.

Just because something didn't work out the first time, doesn't mean it can't be even better the second time around.

And sometimes, the love that got away is the same love that comes back to stay.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[the-s1lly-corner]

Various HH characters x autistic!reader

Prize 1/5 for @coldsushisworld ! I hope you enjoy!

This post includes: charlie, vaggie, alastor, Lucifer, adam, and lute

CHARLIE

Honestly I can see Charlie herself being somewhere on the spectrum! So she can relate to you in some way when you're having some struggles. Shes so so accommodating when it comes to your needs, quite literally bending over backwards to make sure the hotel is a safe space for you. Theres likely a sensory room somewhere in the hotel, where you (or really anyone!) Can go to unwind and just vibe. Protective of you, as she is with everyone else she cares about. You.. may have to get her to cool it if things get a little too heated. Warm and smells like apple pie, and I dont know about you guys but that's possibly one of the most pleasing and calming combos

VAGGIE

Very quick to shut things down if someone tries to get on your case for your needs for whatever reason, same goes for anyone who does it without intending to be harmful/doing it unknowingly. Shes your guard dog, and shes going to make sure you're safe mentally and physically. Likely stands trying to choose between different fidgets to pack for an outing trying to determine which one might come more in handy. Packs both. Actually she definitely has a pack somewhere for you that has a bunch of items to carry on you to help you out (water, headphones, ect ect). Despite that she does think you're capable and will step back if her worries cause her to overstep and make you feel bad. Vaggie does tend to have trouble gauging how much effort and feeling into things

ALASTOR

In the nicest way possible, he does not care. Obviously he doesn't care in the "I dont care that you're ND and I'm not going to avoid doing things that trigger you", it's a "I dont care because it is what it is", and besides hes got manners! Sometimes the static ambience around him can be comforting, like white noise.. sometimes he hums or softly plays music if you need something to focus on during an overwhelming moment. However if it makes things worse it's getting cut the second you say something. You're the only person allowed into his radio tower, if you need an escape

LUCIFER

As stated above I headcanon that Charlie is somewhere in the spectrum so he already has an idea of what to do to make things easier and more welcoming for you! Thankfully his home isnt too chaotic and he doesnt usually switch up his routine so if routines mean a lot for you Lucifer is your man! Puts his crafting skills to good use and makes you personalized fidget toys! He loves talking to you but if you need him to be quiet for a while he'll be understanding and work quietly on his ducks. Similarly to his daughter he doesnt let anyone try to make you feel bad for trying to tend to your needs. Though hes less of a pushover/holds his temper a little easier than charlie, but hes still quick to shut anything down

ADAM

In the beginning he can be a little.... how does one say this nicely? Not the best.. hes not at all educated so you're probably going to have to sit him down and find a way to get him to listen. Hes a little misguided when it comes to helping you moving forward but there is a new added effort in there. Takes you away from environments that are too overwhelming for you, or tells everyone to shut the hell up.. which might make things worse thanks to his shouting. He's got the spirit but his methods are not the best. His wings are soft and as long as you dont pluck anything out, he let's you run your fingers through his feathers. Would get sucked into those sensory and/or asmr videos with you

LUTE

I can see her being on the spectrum too tbh but I dont think shes aware, so anytime you try to bring up the possibility of her being ND she kind of just dismisses it. "Everyone does that," mindset. While she doesnt totally understand all of your habits and needs, she still does her best to make sure you're satisfied. She can be callous with others, often causing conflict to those who choose not to listen to an exterminator.. though to heavens citizens what status to exterminators have..? Shrugs. Shes a little.. tense? Harsh? No harsh sounds mean. Shes not used to being tender for someone else, so this is all a learning process for her.. its going to take a while before she grows accustomed to you autism or not.. but shes trying, because she does love you even if shes not used to these feelings!

[seineko]

al haitham x (shy, nerdy and introverted) reader

warnings: explicit content, yandere elements, implied noncon exhibitionism, high key self indulgent, wrote this with the urge to touch grass

al haitham brainrot at 7 in the evening cause my head refuses to think of anything else (except diluc, he's a constant in my mind and heart <3)

i've read it somewhere on tumblr; (yandere) al haitham with a shy, nerdy and introverted reader. while the fluff made my heart melt, i can't stop thinking about the other end of the spectrum. (please let me know if you find that post).

minors do not interact!

al haitham, who finally gets frustrated of seeing the way everyone treats you and slowly starts slipping near you whenever he can, sending actual glares to everyone who dares approach you.

al haitham, who slowly starts asking you for help with his work when he notices you starting to panic a bit when no one approaches you for help anymore.

al haitham, the one who never concentrated on his surroundings when he was immersed into a book, now can't think of anything other than how your lips look wrapped around the tip of a pencil when you try to concentrate.

al haitham, who finally gives into his own urges to push the strand of hair that has been disturbing you since a few minutes, behind your ear, freezing as he notices you stiffen.

al haitham, who somewhat regrets blurting out his confession (in the most monotonous voice possible by a human being) the second you run out of the library. the regret that turns into pure exhilaration the next day, when you approach him with the request to give you some time.

al haitham, who waits months before getting an affirmative reply, taking it as his cue to kiss you on your lips - waiting to do it since the day his eyes landed on the pencil that was stuck between them.

al haitham, who finally gets to be the only one to taste your tea and witness your small, adorable smiles whenever you receive a compliment.

al haitham, who refuses to let you get up from his lap even if all the seats beside you are empty.

al haitham, whose hands start to wander once you get comfortable with his touch. they reach the most obscure places one can imagine, while his head too turns into a huge gutter.

al haitham, who is addicted to kissing with you on top of him, locking your hands behind your back with one of his own, while the other caresses your (chubby) cheek.

al haitham, who absolutely loves to take you on the corner of your shelf in the library, whispering assurances in your ear that no one is watching, even when he knows that someone is.

mostly just al haitham, who treats you like the most valuable book in a collection of rare ones.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[adventuringblind]

Stimming

Oscar Jack Piastri x Autistic Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort (I think)

Request: let’s add to the list! Comment your swims that aren’t on here and I’ll add them!

Summary: Oscar and his reactions to certain stims

Warnings: mean people, Stims that are harmful

Notes: Okay, the majority of these are my personal Stims. but! That doesn't mean these are the only valid ones. Remember, it's a spectrum 🤟🏻

Masterlist

The rocking

This one is a major way of self-soothing

If he sees you doing it then I think he’d most likely use it as an indication that there is either a particularly strong emotion or that your overwhelmed

Definitely would just sit next to you

In silence or talking it doesn’t matter

He just want to be there with you

Flappy hands (hand shakes as I call them)

Probably thought you hurt your wrist

Also used as an indicator

Either it’s a way of saying no and it’s obvious that you want whatever is going on to stop

Or it’s the opposite and your extremely happy and excited and don’t know how else to express it

The latter reason is his favorite

He likes to see you smile and do flappy hands when your excited

He makes it a point to get you hyped for things

Nails in the skin

Doesn’t like this one

He doesn’t like seeing you hurt yourself in any way

He knows it’s your way of grounding

But he’ll try and get you to focus on something else

He keeps bandaids with him in case it gets really bad

Also, despite his nail habits, he’ll make sure yours are short so you can’t do as much damage to you skin

Hair tugging

Again, a harmful stim

He doesn’t enjoy seeing you do this either

Definitely a sign of being overwhelmed

He’ll run his fingers through your hair if you’ll let him

If not then he’ll find something else for your hands to do that distracts and calms your brain

The ear noise thing (idk what it’s called)

Saw you doing it once in a crowded area

Was confused at first until you showed him

He does it also now

It’s kind of fun for him

Everyone teases when you two are plugging and unplugging your ears in random locations.

The foot hopper

Can’t stand still

It’s a struggle

Anytime you go somewhere and can’t stand still you find yourself hopping between feet

Sometimes you make a pattern out of it

Or a rhythm

Or your own little game

Oscar is there to catch you if your balance is off

He will also join in on the game sometimes if you let him

He makes sure to stay close if you ever have to stand for long periods of time

T-Rex arms

He laughed

He couldn’t help because it was funny and adorable

He couldn’t help it

If you ever feel stuck in that position then he’ll be there to help

Whether is be food or the tv remote he never fails to make you comfortable

Will remind you to stretch your arms if you stay in that position

Would hate to see you get a cramp

The head to flat surface

Thought you were annoyed at first

Then you avidly explained that the table feels nice on your head

It became almost routine that you would send your forehead at a flat surface you hadn’t tried yet

Walls, floors, anything that looks smooth or cold or soft

He’d remind you not to do it to hard

Head wounds bleed particularly hard

Feel like he can feel it himself when you describe in great detail how it feels against your forehead and face

[jinbeisluffy]

I see so many posts over different social media platforms about sexuality/gender hcs for the strawhats and i want to add in my own two cents because i believe im very correct (but anyone’s opinion is valid so long as it doesnt go against canon coding)

Luffy - the most aroace and trans guy to ever BREATHE. i dont mean aroace in that hes somewhere on the spectrum where he can still be attracted to people, because he cant. this guy had never grasped the concept of romance and never will, because theres no reason for it to him. hes trans because i say he is, i dont have many reasons for THAT but its just the signals hes sending me. trans to trans communication trust

Zoro - gay. thats it thats the post. no but i dont ship luffy with anyone but zoro is just attracted to literally any man who is strong, thats his criteria and thats all he ever needs. is he aware of it? not at all, he has no idea that its not normal to get bricked up by the thought of other men

Nami - i havent seen a bigger lesbian in media ever, genuinely i dont think any other character is as obviously lesbian as she is. she loves girls unapologetically no matter what, supports all girls at the end of the day (cough kalifa) . i also hit her with the asexual beam because i can, specifically demisexual because i THINK so

Usopp - while i wanna consider kaya, i wanna consider sanji too and thats making me lean between bi or omni even if omni is a label under the bi umbrella. its more a question of if he recognises his preference for men or not, because he does prefer then at the end of the day. the ace beam bounces from nami to usopp because he too doesnt feel anything and doesnt think about it either

Sanji - oh my god where do i begin. maybe just the blatant queer coding of wci as a whole?? of course hes attracted to women, thats not an aspect you can remove or just toss around to being something else. he loves and respects women, but he is so QUEER. all of wci is just queer coding, its a queer story and sanji is a queer character i will die on this hill. he probably has some kind of gender issues too, what specifically? no clue, but he likes people of multiple genders and is in deep denial about it all the time he wont ever truly accept it but he can one day as a treat live with that fact

Chopper - oh hes a reindeer he cant really have a sexuality DID WE FORGET THE FACT HES HUMAN TOO ISNT THAT LIKE HIS WHOLE THING, NOT BEING A MONSTER BUT ALSO A HUMAN. HE IS BOTH? i dont have any specific labels to slap onto him, just that hes a people lover and encourager of literally everything. ace beam bounces onto him too

Robin - trans trans trans trans trans trans trans trans you will accept robin transfem into your life right here right now. she can like anyone, she has no label on it, she just likes people and cant bother with genders or anything like that. the ace beam actually skips her because if they were doing a hear me out cake she’d be the one putting all of the crazy things. freak. (lovingly)

Franky - HOW TRANS CODED IS IT NOT TO REBUILD YOUR OWN BODY TO BECOME A BETTER VERSION OF YOURSELF AND TO REBUILD YOUR LIFE IN A WAY YOU WANT, BUT GOING BACK TO WHAT YOU LOVED ABOUT YOUR OLD SELF, AND EMBRACING IT. literally, trans goals. he modified his body and went i might as well give myself top surgery and an awesome dick while im here!! sexuality wise hes a lover of everyone, but he has preferences for women (robin) but encourages all bromances (with brook)

Brook - THIS IS WHERE IM MOST PASSIONATE!!!! people can say that hes the token straight grandpa. but theyll never understand the joy of old gay brook had a romance with his captain, the joy of brook trying to subtlety let the other strawhats know he accepts them (he isnt subtle at all and everyone knows). look at brook in drag twice for no reason and tell me he isnt queer, in some way. the ace beam finally hits someone and its brook, insert skull joke here

Jinbei - very specifically old gay man who didnt really do much throughout his youth, he always knew he liked men but he never had TIME to do anything, too busy being awesome and a father i fear. now that hes with the crew he isnt automatically gonna seek anyone out, but hes also not gonna restrain himself from finding interests in people, hes being more selfish now and thats good for him. finally the ace beam hits jinbei and proceeds to fly off towards other op characters that i might talk about some other time

can you tell im asexual and love projecting onto characters with it !!!!

[a3risbaby]

strong opinions, stronger arms

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 stardew valley : alex x reader (vagina, fem!pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Perhaps Alex's reign as the town's resident neutral guy is over because he realizes that he has pretty strong opinions about three things: gridball, salmon dinner, and you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship (marriage), porn what plot, ok maybe porn with some feelings and an iota of plot, reader is farmer, reader is shorter, vaginal fingering, making out, couch sex, cross-posted on ao3 | 4.0k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 despite having ideas for so many alex fics, I have never done his route! I really want to, though. he seems like a sweet guy who has a lot of room to grow...and I'm discovering how much I like athletes. hope you enjoy this! and reblog if you liked :)

One year, Alex was voted the least picky person in Pelican Town, though he wasn't sure if it mattered much when the only voters were Haley and Emily after a late night at the Saloon. Still, when Emily knocked on his door the next day and presented him with an embroidered ribbon, something she had whipped up in a few hours, he accepted it graciously and offered to hang it on his wall.

"Who was the competition?" he asked as he rummaged through the closet for a spare frame.

"Everyone, I guess," replied Emily, hands clasped behind her back as she took in the photos on the hallway walls. She hadn't been in George and Evelyn's house since she was a kid, back when she and her sister found themselves alone and unsure of how to take care of themselves.

Haley had been eliminated quickly. She admitted that she had a long list of dislikes and wasn't afraid of making her disgust known. On the opposite end of the spectrum was someone like Linus who didn't hate anything. The town's doctor had landed somewhere in the middle.

"Dr. Harvey has a clear sense of what he likes and dislikes," explained Emily, interrupting her words to give a satisfied clap when Alex found a perfect sized frame. They headed back to his room. "You're his opposite. You're so neutral about everything."

He gave a short laugh. "Sounds like Linus should've gotten the award."

"Yes, but I have work today and the mountains are far." She patted him on the shoulder once he mounted the frame. "Congratulations again, Alex!"

.

.

.

Several seasons have passed since that day, but whenever Alex sees Emily's ribbon between his athletic awards, her words come back to him. You're so neutral about everything. He never thought about it like that, though he does consider himself an easygoing person. It's probably due to the fact that he doesn't have strong opinions, but when someone spend their entire childhood tiptoeing the line and trying to stay in people's good graces, that meekness is hard to undo.

It took years for Evelyn to coax him out of it, finally hitting the jackpot when she cooked a salmon dinner and watched his eyes light up at the first bite. Most inquiries of What do you think about this? got a halfhearted shrug, a small attempt at a smile, and a quick scan of the asker's expression—what should Alex think about it? Desperate to know the right answer, he always looked outwards, not in. It's not the greatest habit, but he tries—

"Hey, man, don't think too hard about it." Shane elbows him, knocking him out of his thoughts. "It was a dumb question. You want a drink?"

Over their shared box of pretzels, Shane offers Alex an unlabelled, uncorked bottle. Alex glances down at it, hesitant.

"Thanks, but sorry, I don't...I don't drink."

"It's just sparkling apple cider," Shane says with an even tone.

Belatedly, Alex remembers the changes that Shane's trying to make in life and mentally kicks himself for jumping to conclusions.

"Pierre was having a sale, and the kids love these. You don't like cider or something?"

"I'm okay with it." Neutral, he realizes again. He takes the bottle. "I mean, I like it. Thanks."

If someone told Alex a year ago that he'd be here—sitting in Cindersap Forest near midnight, making small talk with one of the town's resident grouches, dangling his legs off the pond's dock as he sipped from a giant bottle—he would have laughed in their face and asked if they took a gridball to the head. But it's happening, and Alex finds himself enjoying the company.

He savors the carbonated taste on his tongue and takes in a lungful of the crisp night air, thinking back to when he first came to the valley. Back then, he used to sneak out of his grandparents' house, unsettled by Evelyn's hovering and George's night-time snoring. He would hang out by Dusty's pen or on the nearby bridge, leaning as far as he could over the edge. Something about staring at his reflection, accompanied by the steady sound of crickets and cicadas, cleared his mind. It still does.

"Sorry," Shane says after a bit of silence. "It was an unfair question."

"It's cool, man."

"You two dated for a while, but you did just get married, so I guess I can't really ask if you're a tits or an ass kind of guy—"

Alex makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, face flushing once again.

"—because you'll probably say something sappy, like I like everything about her. You seem like that kind of person."

"W-well, that's not really something people think about. Do you have an opinion?"

"Of course. I'm an ass guy," replies Shane without missing a beat. "Duh. Why do you think I almost went pro in gridball?"

"Wait, what?"

Shane takes another swig from his own bottle to empty it, clears his throat, and slaps his hands on his lap like he didn't just drop two bombshells on Alex's psyche. Then he makes a comment about how it's getting late. He needs to go to bed—there's always an early morning when you live on a ranch, after all—and Alex's girlfriend...no, wife is likely wondering where he is. By the time Alex scrambles to his feet, Shane is already back on land and waving. He pauses before calling out.

"Mullner! This was, uh, this was nice. Now that we're neighbors, maybe we can do this more often. You're not too bad."

"Yeah, of course," Alex replies, still dazed. "Get home safe."

"Yeah, you too."

With all the confidence of someone who's spent nearly a decade on this side of town, Shane walks away and disappears into the dark path, hands stuffed into the pockets of his navy hoodie, a plastic bag swinging from his wrist. Alex still doesn't know what to make of the guy, previously known to him as the bitter JojaMart employee who swears every time he passes George and Evelyn's house off-shift, but you're friends with the guy and any friend of yours can be a friend of Alex's, he supposes.

Alex slips on the glow ring you gave him and squints as the area around him suddenly illuminates.

The trek home doesn't take too long. During his morning jogs, he likes to do a lap around Cindersap Forest, both to get used to the area and to help you with foraging, and it's paid off: he no longer struggles to find the signpost that points between your farm and Marnie's ranch. The first time he got lost, he had to knock on Leah's door, cracking an awkward joke while she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She walked him home in her pajamas. With a smile at the time, yes, but she did tell him to either carry a map or stop the night-time wanderings.

You must've gone to bed early. He slips off his sneakers at the door and gives your dog a good night ear scratch. Other than the porch light and the crackling fireplace, the house is dark, and he stumbles through his night routine before slipping under the covers with you. You stir once he loops an arm around your waist.

"Just me, babe," he murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

But you turn around to face him, nestling one hand under your cheek, the other on his chest. "How was hanging out with Shane?" you ask, voice sluggish.

"Good." He pauses. "Really good, actually. He gave me some advice about making the chickens more comfortable. Some tricks to keep hay through the winter, too. Oh! I heard he did sports before, but did you know he was a gridball player?"

You hum your confirmation. "Varsity starter and nearly got signed until, y'know, life happened."

Alex whistles lowly. "Wow. Do you think he'll want to try coaching some time?"

"Maybe. Things are looking up for him now, but he might want to focus on his family for the time being."

You cut yourself off with a yawn, and he smiles, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

"G'night," he whispers, squeezing you once. You only grunt, too tired to reply.

.

.

.

As usual, you're already out of bed by the time Alex wakes up. Both of you are early birds, but you like to rise at the hellish hour of six, when the sun is just peeking over the horizon, while he gets up at the much more reasonable hour of seven. Seven-thirty, if he's feeling particularly worn out. This difference is better for him anyway—he'd rather you not find out about his morning issue and the embarrassing state he often finds himself in these days.

Groaning, he rolls over onto his stomach and wills his little friend to settle down because he hears you rummaging in the kitchen, probably waiting on him for breakfast. But bad idea—now his face is buried in your pillow, and your smell makes his stomach tighten.

This should be a good sign. It means that he's a healthy young man and madly in love with his wife—and who doesn't want that? But damn, if it isn't inconvenient. You’ve slept together before, of course. Plenty of times. He just doesn’t want you to worry about his high libido; you’re a busy person, and he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He pushes off the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, clutching a towel and change of clothes over his problem.

"You can eat without me!" he calls down the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower."

In the bathroom that's filled with more of your scent—another bright idea. He yanks the temperature handle all the way to the right, and the water that spurts from the shower head is absolutely glacial, leaving his teeth chattering and his body shivering, but at least the flush beneath his skin is gone. He can think straight again.

When he steps out of the shower and roughly dries himself, refreshed, there's a knock at the door.

"Your food's on the table," you tell him. "I'm going to change and head out to pick salmonberries. Totally forgot that they're in season, so I already missed a day."

"Do you want me to come help?"

"Mhm, it's alright. Sandy asked for a fire crystal, so I might spend the day in the desert and get more iridium ore. I also saw your schedule on the fridge; today's arm day for you." There's a smile in your voice as you remind him, "That's your favorite."

You disappear into the bedroom to change, and he enters the kitchen to find a partially complete breakfast waiting for him: a stack of fresh pancakes, two fried eggs, a tall glass of milk. In the toaster oven, two hashbrowns are crisping. It's all perfect for a day of working out, and as he sits down to wait for the hashbrowns, Alex thinks not for the first time how he has the best partner in the entire valley.

Just as the toaster oven dings, he hears you skipping down the stairs, humming a catchy tune from the Saloon's new jukebox. When you round the corner of the living room, a wide wicker basket swinging from your elbow, he sees what you're wearing and chokes on air. He reaches for the milk to clear it. He can't lift his slackened jaw, and you're blissfully unaware.

And when you bend down to re-tie your sneakers? Game over.

"Fuck, your ass looks great," slips out before he can stop it.

You pause, then straighten. "You think so?" you ask, doing a little spin in the front hall.

You think it's a regular compliment. He's struggling to breathe with how fast he popped a boner. You look down at your outfit, clearly not seeing what he's seeing. Or rather, not seeing things the way he's seeing them.

"The leggings are from Em! She’s testing a new design, and I'm helping with feedback." You twist in front of the hallway mirror, admiring your legs. "I love the feel of them."

He's loving a lot more than the supposed feel of them.

Note to self, Alex thinks, faintly registering the scrape of his chair against kitchen tiles as he rushes to his feet, thank Emily later. He crosses the distance in quick, long strides and sidles up to you in the mirror, hands landing on your hips. If he were to look at his reflection over your shoulder, he'd see the gentleness of his gaze and how a soft smile grows on your face in return, but at the moment, he's having a hard time focusing on something other than the curves of your body.

"Well, you’ve answered a question for me this morning."

"Oh? What question?"

"Last night, Shane asked me if I'm a tits or an ass kind of guy," he says, not missing your sharp intake of realization. "I can tell him that I have my answer now."

Instead of getting shy as you might have a year ago, you grin, plant your ass on his straining cock, and grind slow circles that have him grasping at fraying self-control. He's flushed down to his chest, and yeah, he definitely has the best partner in the valley. His fingers dig into your skin, stilling you.

"So are you going to kiss me yet," you ask, raising your eyebrows, "or do I have to earn it?"

Cheeky. But he loves you all the more for it. He dips his head down to yours, and despite the blood pounding in his ears, his kiss is soft. Slow. Still riding the high of newlywed bliss, he likes to savor the sensation of cherishing you, likes to remind you of his vows through his touch.

But then you open your mouth, tongue prodding at the seam of his lips, and he groans, tilting to let you in. He turns you in his arms to press you up against the front door, careful to avoid the handle. You drag your hands along his arms and up his chest before twisting your fingers into his hair, tugging exactly how he likes it. His own hands wander down, kneading your ass, and when he pinches it, your surprised yelp morphs into a moan as he wedges a thigh between yours.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs, pulling back to catch his breath. You look fantastic like this: pupils blown wide, lips swollen, gaze thoroughly captivated by him. He can’t help teasing, “I thought you were planning to pick salmonberries.”

“I already missed one day,” you reply, raising your chin. “What’s one more?”

He laughs—because even with his addled brain, he can’t get over how cute you are. Your playful expression will melt away soon enough, though.

Your top comes off with his help, falling to the floor alongside his own shirt, and though he normally likes taking his time working you up, he trails his knuckles up your spine and unclasps your bra right after, the motion smooth. It hangs loose off your chest, simply a suggestion of modesty.

The leggings are harder to remove. That’s already a point off in his books. He crouches to peel them from your legs with patience—a frustrating amount of patience, judging by your displeased huffs—but he appeases you by kissing down your exposed thighs and burying his face between them once the leggings are kicked away.

You let out a flutter of a sigh when he leaves a lingering kiss against the waistband of your underwear.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says, resting his cheek against your skin. He looks up at you through his lashes. Puppy dog eyes, you once called them. The most convincing in the valley. He doesn’t fight when you pull him back up, voice reverent as he repeats, “So, so beautiful.”

“Alex—”

“I’m serious.”

He takes your hand and flattens your palm over his heart so you can feel how fast it’s beating, threatening to burst out of his ribs. “You make me the luckiest person in the world.”

He watches as your gaze softens with adoration, certain that his did the same. This is the kind of love he’s been waiting his whole life for: unconditional, passionate, fulfilling. You give a small hum of contentment before kissing his sternum, and he almost feels sorry for how hard he’s about to take you.

But first.

His knuckles ghost across your chest. Only the lightest touch, and they’re already pebbling, waiting for more. His nose traces down the side of your face, along the column of your neck, and stops at your shoulder where he inhales your familiar scent. His kisses are light, fleeting, as he relishes the whimpers of his name on your lips. One hand rolls your nipples between his fingers with the occasional tug, and the other rubs circles into the small of your back, urging your hips into his. He makes sure that you feel the way his cock strains against his sweatpants. Then he subtly rolls his hips, and you can’t help the shudder that runs down your spine.

“Ah, damn,” you breathe out next to his ear, then angle your head for a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Damn, indeed.

You clasp your hands around his neck, keeping him to you, and honestly, if Alex had to pass out from lack of oxygen, this wasn’t a bad way to go.

He moves his hand from your back to your front, sliding past the waistband of your underwear. He gathers your arousal on his finger and, without warning, sinks it into your core. Your body gives in easily, but your hips still buck at the feeling.

“Fuck, fuck.” You throw your head back, bumping it against the front door.

“I will in a second,” he promises, smiling. “Be patient.”

You’ve never been very good at that. He helps you turn around, and once you brace your forearms on the entryway cabinet, he sets out in earnest, pumping his finger in and out with ease.

“One more,” you grit out, laying your forehead on crossed arms.

He doesn’t say anything, just bites back a moan as he adds another finger and watches as your cunt takes him to the knuckle. He wishes he could see the expression on your face as you grind down on his hand, setting your own stuttering pace. He loops an arm around your waist and catches you when he suddenly adds a third finger between your folds, your knees buckling with a cry.

“You’re taking them so well,” Alex reassures you.

Once you find your footing again, he flattens his palm on your sternum and pushes you against his chest. Your shuddering breaths hitch at the change in angle; his fingers are on the thicker side, and you feel every inch of the stretch.

“You used to be so tight, crying about how big I am, but look at you now,” he murmurs, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Asking for two fingers and already taking a third. You can’t be satisfied with just this, right?”

“N-no, ahh, still want you to fill me up—”

“I thought so. This isn’t enough for you. You like to be dicked down so good you can’t remember your name, hmm?” he coos. “You’re lucky you live far from town. Doing this by the front door—what if someone hears you?”

You clench at the suggestion, and he files that reaction away for later because your hands clamp down on his wrist.

“I’m s’close, please, Alex, please—”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hums. Kissing down the column of your throat, he pistons his fingers until he feels the telltale signs of your building orgasm, the convulsing of your walls, and when you release with a gasp, he slows, letting you ride it out until you melt away from his hold. Even though his cock is painfully hard and straining against his sweats, he still sweeps your hair from your face, asking, “Do you want to take a minute? I can get you some water.”

“It’s okay.”

Smiling, you take his hand and raise it to your mouth. You start with kitten licks before you fully suck on his fingers, eyes fluttering up to meet his darkened gaze, and when he kisses you after, tasting you on your own tongue has him counting his lucky stars again.

With a grunt, he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you, nudging your legs around his waist. You scramble for purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into flexed muscles.

“Is this what you had in mind for arm day?” you laugh as he walks over to the couch.

“No, but this is better.”

He bends you over the side of the couch, offering a throw pillow that you hug to your chest with an amused expression. You glance back at him, impishly wiggling your ass as if your position wasn't enough of an invitation.

"What a temptress," he mutters.

He kneads your bottom with one hand, giving it a quick pinch that has you giggling into the cushions, before easing his cock out of his sweatpants. The fabric does nothing to hide the shape of his erection—he's caught you looking meaningfully at it more than once whenever he wears them—but they've never felt as erotic as now.

If he had the patience, he'd tease you with it. Slap his shaft against your wet folds, drag his length along your arousal, rub the tip against your exposed clit. But he has all the time in the world because you're married now. He can do all of that another day.

He slides his head along your opening before pushing in inch by inch, moaning unabashedly as he splits you in half. You bury your face into the pillow, whimpering. It's always a bit of a tight fit, even when he makes sure to prep you.

"Let me know when I can move," he manages. You trail your foot up his leg, and that's enough for him to start pounding into you.

It's mesmerizing to see how your ass bounces against his hips. He can't believe he didn't do this sooner. Gripping at your waist, he sets the pace, driving into you until you're panting, muffling your sounds with the couch. It doesn't take long for him to make you snap again.

.

.

.

You don’t remember how many orgasms he’s coaxed from your body at this point. Once by the door, at least twice on the couch, a few more in bed—you remember slipping in and out of a sleepy haze at the tail end of it. You pull the blanket up to your chin with a content giggle.

In the other room, you hear the shower run.

(“You should get cleaned up,” Alex insisted, rubbing your ankles. “I’ll help you bathe.”

“I have a feeling that if I go with you into that bathroom, I’ll need another shower once you’re done with me.”

He shot you a lopsided grin. “Fair. I’ll clean up first and then run a bath for you?” He glanced out the window. “The sprinklers and automatic feeders should’ve taken care of the farm today, but I’ll check just in case.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’ll make...er, lunch. Take a nap if you want to.” He kissed the top of your head. He'd already wiped you down with a warm cloth. “I’ll be back.”)

Leaning over to the phone on your bedside, you quickly dial your partner-in-crime. The phone rings twice before her familiar sing-song Hello? come through. You don’t even need to waste time on formalities.

“I owe you big time,” you say, already making mental plans to mine a complete gem set. You always knew that Alex was holding back, but even with your subtle hints, he was too much a gentleman to really take you.

Until today.

“You were right, Em—getting Shane to help was the right move.”

[anachronismstellar]

Hello, I'm the anon who chucked a lot of brainrot are you recently, gonna sign off as moon anon since now, cause theme.

Okay but what if, one of the next peak lords really needs a hug. Like, that person is at least lvl 3 touch starved but doesn't really have the guts nor a person to ask for cuddles. And then they hear of Shang "peak lord collector" Qinghua. And they logically conclude that since he doesn't mind close contact he also wouldn't mind some other types of it, right?

Que a letter goes in with reports next time, adressed to SQH and enchanted not to be opened by any one else. And he's confused but then he opens it and it's very sweet letter asking if he would be amenable for a cuddle session. And on one hand what the heck, on the other this is so cut omg.

So he accepts and then he basically gets a cuddle buddy who also can make some really good snacks and actually got some really really nice bed and oop he fell asleep.

Bonus points if the peak lord is somewhere on the aroace spectrum and while there may or may not be sex, that is definitely a peak lord that will not hesitate to shank someone for sqh. So they are def collected. "Why do you invite him over?" "I'm a slut for cuddles. We also have a book club"

And yes, they will try to shank MBJ if he tries to take their cuddle time away from them. They might be the tiniest peak lord at the cursed 5'2/5'3 but it's cause they are condensed ball of mass destruction and they have their ways.

-moon anon

Moony!!! I'm so so sorry it took me so long to finish this asiufhsaudf

And, as you know, and as I do, the prompt ran away and became its own thing lol

The name for the Divination peak I borrowed from the amazing faq by 00janeblonde

Now, a few TWs:

There is a two line description of childbirth, I'm gonna put it in orange if anyone wants to skip that. Also, Jiao Qingxing is a very anxious baby! I didn't describe any panic attacks, but he is going through some severe touch starvation here, if that squicks you please please take care of yourself!

Last, but not least, I do have some comments about our dear hamster behavior in this fic, but enough of me blabbing, and on with the show! :D

--------

Jiao Qingxing liked to think he had a good face. It wasn't good practice for a physiognomer to analyze their own physical appearance, that would be the same as dooming themselves. But it was hard not to measure the space between his brows and nose while looking at his bronze mirror, or trace the small mole he had on his cheek with his fingertips when nervous. 

Nevertheless it was a good face. Maybe not a peerless beauty as Shen-shixiong, or striking as Wei-shixiong, but with good proportions and free of hardships. 

His numbers were also to be praised. Born under fortuitous time with astonishing balance between his elements, he knew he had been chosen to be the head disciple as soon as he gave his first cry while his mother still laid on her delivery bed, sheets smeared with blood and sweat. Oh he had to go through all the procedures to enter the Sect, but everyone knew that he would pass all tests. It was written on his name, on his destiny. And the following peak Lord of Zhi Ji would be chosen the same way. 

There was only one thing, he thought, in which he felt less fortunate than his martial siblings. 

“There you go, Shidi. You can put your clothes back on.”

Intimacy.

Jiao Qingxing’s entire body shook with relief as he sat down on the soft cot bed, the movement making his jewelry chim softly like clear bells. He felt a bit bad for tuning Mu-shixiong off while he gave the same old same old report on his vitals and his qi, too tired to hear the encouragement on the doctor's voice.

There was nothing wrong with him, he was improving since the past session, they were taking the necessary steps to move a bit forward and maybe take his hair do down while they do their sessions-

Jiao Qingxing closed his eyes, swallowing down as Mu-shixiong’s speech echoed on his head before the doctor said it, word by word, death by a million papercuts.

No matter how much time had passed, how closer he had gotten with his martial siblings, he seemed to be encased in glass. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on both sides, they all have been head disciples one day after all, and he had attended many parties in which Zhang Qingyan’s wine was passed around freely and games were played as if they were kids once more. 

Nevertheless, it’s been years since he had approached Mu-shixiong with his little situation, and still he hasn’t allowed himself to relax enough to put his hair down during their sessions. He appreciated Mu-shixiong not forcing the issue, but made Jiao Qingxing a bit sad that the doctor wouldn’t scream at him and make him go through his treatment properly as he would with the other peak lords.

Made their hugs feel a bit hollow, more an obligation than a nice moment between them.

“This one thanks Mu-shixiong for his time,” Jiao Qingxing said as he put his robes back on, one layer at a time as one would put silk over expensive porcelain to protect it from chipping. 

“Before you go, Shidi,” Mu Qingfang extended his hand towards Jiao Qingxing, the heat of his palm hovering over his arm without touching it. “This one has a matter to discuss with you.”

Jiao Qingxing held back his desire to hunch his shoulders, blinking away the visions of a thousand futures that could possibly settle over them. 

It was his power, it was his curse. Mu-shixiong called it anxiety but he had got too many predictions right to fully trust the doctor’s diagnosis. 

“As Shidi knows, this one is going to the Caves at the end of the month. Not for long, but for enough time to cultivate and check the others there. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be back on time to have another of our sessions,” and it would be so funny if it weren’t sad to see his Shixiong nervous, as if Jiao Qingxing would cry and despair. 

Honestly, he felt bad for feeling relief.

“It’s no issue, Shixiong. This one understands. We can reschedule it for a further date.”

“I would agree to that if Shidi’s meridians weren’t blocked as they are now,” and wasn't Shixiong so nice to say it as if it were just a minor hiccup instead of him being in the cusp of a qi deviation? “I fear that we reached an impasse. I can’t forward your case to my head disciple because that would be improper, but I also can’t leave you without your treatment.”

“What are you suggesting, Shixiong?”

The doctor took off his glasses, pressing down on the faint mark on the bridge of his nose. Jiao Qingxing wouldn’t dare read his face so shamelessly, but he couldn’t help to think that the faint stubble fit him well, balanced his youth and gave the Qing Cao Peak Lord an air of maturity that was charming. None of these observations helped him when the suggestion came:

“I have made a list,” Mu-shixiong said as he slowly put his glasses back on, patting his robes before extending a piece of folded paper to Jiao Qingxing. “Of other possible candidates for your session. Of course the final decision-”

“No,” he said as he tightened his robes a bit too forcefully, the silk slipping through his fingers as they shook from anger.

“Shidi, be reasonable-”

“I said no!” he shouted, and that made the doctor raise both his hands, always hovering but never touching.

No one ever touched-

“Shidi,” Mu-shixiong waited until he had calmed down, not wanting to upset even more the progress they had made during the past two hours. “I assure you, whoever name is on that list will be careful with the information and I will instruct them myself about all the procedures.”

And isn’t it sad? He should be used to it, but it still hurt to hear it in medical terms like that. Procedures. As if hugging Jiao Qingxing demanded step by step routine. 

He took the paper. He knew that Mu-shixiong wouldn’t scream at him or force anything, but the doctor might get some weird ideas like dragging Jiao Qingxing to the caves with him and that would be even worse than dealing with whoever might be written down.

Jiao Qingxing hated the caves, too many possibilities, too many destinies interconnected, too many futures that he couldn’t grasp. 

“How…” and he had to take a small pause, pressing his lips in a thin line as he blew air from his nose slowly. 

Exhale. Inhale.

“How much time do I have before sending you a response?”

“I would say until the end of the week.” and he didn’t need much to read the discomfort on his Shixiong’s face. He knew the deadline was tight, considering how sensitive it was for Jiao Qingxing. 

“Very well,” he said instead of lashing out again, picking up the list without looking at it yet. “I will think about it.”

“This Shixiong appreciates his Shidi efforts.”

He left Qing Cao Peak with disheveled robes and a sword speed that would make Liu-shixiong envious.

-xx-

It had taken him three days to look at the list hidden on the sleeve of his robes, the paper so crumbled it was a miracle Jiao Qingxing could understand Mu-shixiong's calligraphy at all. The list, as expected, was extremely short, with some names that were a bit unexpected, such as Qinghui-shixiong, to some a bit more sensible as Gao-shixiong. 

What was curious, though, was the name at the very bottom of the list, scratched out but still recognizable, considering his options:

Shang Qinghua

Now, there could have been many reasons for the name to have been reconsidered. He wasn't one for gossiping, but he was almost sure he heard someone say that Mu-shixiong had special feelings for Shang-shixiong. Could be that he had put the name down and then got jealous? Mu-shixiong didn't seem the type to do so…

Another possibility was that Shang-shixiong himself was too busy to schedule an entire evening with him to deal with his situation. That sounded more plausible, considering how he had never seen Shang-shixiong stop moving or taking a break. 

But that wouldn't be the perfect reason to put Shang-shixiong's name on the list? Mu-shixiong might not be the jealous type but he was the type of person that wouldn't throw away the chance to force his most jittery Shixiong to stop and rest. So, putting Shang Qinghua's name wouldn't be killing two birds with one stone? Why take his name away then? 

He traced the lines over Shang Qinghua's name, making an impulsive decision. 

He was making it a bigger fuss than it was. They would meet, have calming tea, sleep for two hours and then probably never look each other in the face again, and then he would go back to his appointments with Mu-shixiong that were strictly professional but at least it didn't involve socializing. 

That’s what he repeated to himself as his head disciple announced the arrival of the An Ding peak lord, a few weeks later, for their appointment. He asked his head disciple to guide his Shixiong to his Leisure House, putting his papers aside to take a deep breath, gathering the courage to get up and move. He hadn’t slept a wink the past night, jumping from bed as soon as it was deemed an acceptable hour to take the longest bath he had ever taken, scrubbing his skin so hard it became red all over. It didn’t help with the sensation of ants crawling up his arms, but it made him more grounded, focused on what he had to do. 

Tea. A little talk. Sleep. Send Shang Qinghua away.

He opened the door to his Leisure house as if opening the door to a war council, soft steps hesitantly carrying him all the way to the table where Shang Qinghua was sitting, back towards the door. 

What made Jiao Qingxing stop on his tracks was how relaxed his Shixiong seemed to be. The bun on the top of his head was nowhere to be seen, instead soft brown hair covered yellow robes in waves of curls, as if Autumn itself had dropped its colors all over Shang Qinghua. 

The smell of lavender, the usual tea Mu-shixiong would prepare for them both before their appointments, was a familiar comfort, calming his heart as he got closer to Shang Qinghua, stopping just a little bit behind the An Ding peak lord. 

“Shixiong.”

The sound of wood being knocked followed by a string of curses made Jiao Qingxing flinch, immediately taking a step back. Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua rushed to get on his feet, almost falling face first on the ground to take a bow, excuses spilling from his mouth faster than Jiao Qingxing could understand.

“-said that I should wait here, but oh my god I should have waited by the door, I’m so sorry Shidi, shit I’m already messing this up, aren’t I? And after all the talk Mu-shixiong sat me through too, oh Heavens, but I made some tea! Lavender is your favorite, right? I brought some others as well just in case-”

“S-Shixiong-” it was too much, Shang-shixiong was too much. Jiao Qingxing already knew that; he had to sit through all the Sect meetings just as all the other peak lords and ladies after all. However, one thing was to face Shang Qinghua’s presence with others to shield Jiao Qingxing from all the anxiety Shang-shixiong seemed to be moved by, another thing entirely was to bear the full force of it. 

This might have been a mistake, maybe Mu-shixiong had been right on striking the name off the list.

Because on top of all the exaggerated hand movement, the nonstop talking without talking about nothing at all, there was… There was something odd about Shang-shixiong’s that Jiao Qingxing couldn’t pinpoint. An energy that made all the hairs of the back of his neck tingle, rising up as if he were in danger; a faint circle of bright blue in his eyes that hurt Jiao Qingxing head if he stared for too long. 

Things were moving too fast out of control, he had to go back to the plan, they already had tea so they just had to talk, if Shang-shixiong let me talk, Qingxing thought with a deep sigh as the other kept going on and on about-

What was he talking about?

“-but then I read this book uh- back in my hometown, I don’t have it anymore, but I did some research, you don’t need to worry!”

“Thanking Shixiong for his efforts and his time,” Jiao Qingxing bowed low, already feeling exhausted. “But this one must beg forgiveness for wasting Shixiong’s time. This one will talk to Mu-shixiong-”

Warm hands touched his shoulders to gently make him straighten his posture, pulling a gasp from Jiao Qingxing's throat. He forced his gaze to stay cast downwards, not daring to look at his Shixiong’s brown-blue-gold eyes. 

“Jiao-shidi has nothing to apologize for, it’s this one who has to beg for forgiveness,” Shang Qinghua slowly but surely moved one of his hands from Qingxing’s shoulder to his hair, tugging it gently before putting it behind Qingxing’s ear. “This one went a bit ahead of himself, didn’t he? Hm…” and then he let it go, as if Jiao Qingxing hadn’t been branded by his heat, melting under it as soft snow on the first day of spring. 

Shang Qinghua sat down again, tapping the pillow next to him as an invitation, his silence ringing on Jiao Qingxing's ears after so much noise in the past minutes. He definitely should have just waited for Mu-shixiong, he could feel his breathing starting pick up as the situation fell out of control, he wanted to be touched again, he wasn’t expecting Shang-shixiong to be so warm, he-

“Here’s what we are going to do, Shidi,” Shang Qinghua said as he pulled Jiao Qingxing by the sleeve of his robe, making the Zhi Ji peak lord sit heavily next to him. “We are going to talk. Just talk. Okay? If you still think this is a bad idea, I will talk to Mu-shidi and we can think of something else. No harm done. What do you think?”

He gave Shang Qinghua a little nod. Talking is a good idea, he could talk. Staying so close to Shang Qinghua might be a bit too much, but he also wasn’t extremely bothered by it. 

“Good, great, now, I know that if we keep going this way I will do all the talking and that would be bad,” Shang-shixiong said as he busied himself by pouring them tea, offering the first cup to Qingxing as if he weren’t throwing all the ceremony and property out of the window. “So why don’t you tell me a little bit about your cultivation? I had never had someone reading my fortune, sounds fun!” He finished with a nervous giggle clearly not wanting to have his fortune read at all.

That was okay. He wasn’t going to do it anyway.

“There are many ways to tell one’s fortune.” he forced himself to say after sipping his tea, closing his eyes, pretending to be lecturing his disciples. “Analyzing the stars and the calendar is a very common one nowadays, but there is also the Four Pillars and, in my field of studies, Physiognomy. It’s not perfect, usually one has to combine more than one method…” and bit by bit he relaxed, letting his shoulders drop, the trembling of his hands simmering down until they were steady again. 

He spoke for a long time, explaining each type of method, their histories and when to apply them. And when it felt as if he couldn’t speak anymore, Shang-shixiong started asking questions, doing his best to pull Jiao Qingxing into a debate, challenging him to explain from how one could calculate the position of stars and determine which place a bed should be put in a room, to how the lines of the palm of his hand were connected to his heart and life. 

And the most mesmerising of it all, Shang Qinghua paid attention. It hurt a bit to have his full attention so close, but Jiao Qingxing couldn’t help but drink all of it, eager to be seen, to be truly seen after so many years of polite small talk and far away smiles. 

Before they both noticed, the sun had already set and their time together had come to an end. Reluctantly, they both stand on their feet, with Jiao Qingxiong following Shang Qinghua all the way to the door. 

“Well, that was fun!” Shang-shixiong chuckled, not back to his full energetic self, but unable to hold back his excitement either. “Now I have to rearrange my entire room, see if it improves my mood like you said.”

“I will be waiting to hear about the results, Shixiong.” Jiao Qingxing couldn’t hold back a smile either, shaking his head at his Shixiong’s silliness. “But it takes time. It won’t work after a night.”

“Yea, you are right.” Shang Qinghua nodded with a sigh, a twinkle in his eye that made Jiao Qingxing blink. “So I just have to keep coming here for the next few weeks then. To give you my report.”

Jiao Qingxing didn’t have a single romantic bone in his body. Or any interests for these types of relationships, that’s precisely what had put him in this situation to begin with.

But even he had to admit that… That Shang Qinghua was good at this. Flirting. Heavens, he might have even felt his cheeks heating up!

“If Shixiong so desires,” he said as he lowered his eyes once more, unsure how one should send a person away after being flirted with. “This one would be happy to hear Shixiong’s report.”

“Great! I will bring the tea, I know we didn’t drink much of it this time-”

“White tea.”

“Pardon?”

Jiao Qingxing felt the burn on his cheeks spread down his neck, glaring at the floor as if it could force it to open and end this embarrassing moment. 

“I prefer white tea. Mu-shixiong makes me drink the other to help me calm down but-”

“Ah,” and Qingxing couldn’t help but look up at Shang Qinghua, the soft smile on the An Ding peak lord tugging something on his heart. “Then I will bring the white tea. No need to tell Mu-shidi about it, huh?”

With a last promise to be back at the same time the next day, Shang Qinghua jumped on his sword, soon enough becoming a speckle of yellow in the dark sky. 

-xx-

Shang Qinghua came back the following day. And the next. And the next one.

Sometimes they talked for hours, other times they worked along in silence, or as silently Shang Qinghua was capable of being. It almost felt like routine, as if it was normal for the An Ding peak lord to spend so much time at Zhi Ji peak.

And, bit by bit, he could feel Shang Qinghua getting closer and closer. A brush of their hands here and there, a playful tug at his sleeves, their shoulders touching as they revised paperwork side by side. 

Again, Jiao Qingxing wasn’t a romantic, but he could appreciate the gestures, more than anything he could appreciate the lack of hesitancy in which Shang Qinghua invaded his personal space, as if he had all the right to be there. And funnily enough, Jiao Qingxing felt as he did. 

“Shidi,” Shang Qinghua called his attention, probably not for the first time by the way he was pulling his sleeve. “Can I brush your hair?”

The question felt as if it came out of nowhere, making Jiao Qingxing pick up one of the braids close to his neck.

“What for?” he asked, not entirely against the idea, but also not sure if he wanted to trust his hair to the person who kept theirs in a bun most of the time. But all he got for an answer was a shrug, and Shang Qinghua flicking the small chain on his hair pin. 

Too curious to see where this was going, he gave one last glance at his Shixiong before going all the way to his room to grab his comb, handing it to Shang Qinghua before sitting with his back towards the other. 

“If it hurts, let me know,” he whispered a bit too close to Jiao Qingxiong's ear, starting him enough for Qingxing to move a bit away from his Shixiong. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Shang Qinghua said with a squeeze of his shoulder,  getting to work. And, as if they had all the time in the world, Shang Qinghua took away his hair pin, using his fingers to massage Jiao Qingxing's scalp. 

It was as if someone had poured hot qi from his head, dripping down all the way to his toes. He barely could hold back a moan as Shang Qinghua used his nails to scratch from the top of his head to the back of his ears, thumbs pressing a bit over the back of his neck. 

He couldn't help but close his eyes, tipping his head back as clever fingers separated his hair into sectionsbefore Shang-shixiong actually started combing from the bottom all the way to his head.

It might have been the most relaxed he had felt in years. He felt his body swaying, a whine leaving his lips when strong arms pulled him closer, until his back was fully resting against Shang Qinghua's chest. And again it felt like Shang-shixiong was made of heated rocks, his warmth making it very difficult for Jiao Qingxing to concentrate on being awake.

“Shidi?” The voice next to his ear made him whine, the sensation too good for him to answer properly. “What about we take a nap, hn?” and how could he do anything else but agree?

Once more he was held by Shang Qinghua's gentle hands, this time to be carried all the way to his rooms. A distant voice in his head screamed that it was a mess, Shang-shixiong deserved better than two days old sheets and an unmade bed, but there was a rumbling coming from Shang-shixiong's chest as he hummed a nice tune, distracting Jiao Qingxing from his loud thoughts. At some point the humming was gone, replaced by Shang Qinghua explaining everything he was doing as he removed all the layers of robes Jiao Qingxing preferred to wear, leaving the Zhi Ji peak lord only with his most inner robe.

“Shixiong,” he whispered as cold sunk deep into his skin the moment Shang Qinghua left him to remove his own clothing. “Shixiong, please-”

“Shh, sorry, sorry, I'm right here,” and then Jiao Qingxing felt-

He felt.

The hiccup was like a punch to his chest as tears trickled down his face. Suddenly it was impossible to stop the sobbing as he hid his face against Shang Qinghua's neck, calloused hands touching him everywhere, burning his skin in a searing white sensation. 

But not hurting. Never hurting.

“Shhh… Shidi is doing great, that's it, let it all out…” Shang Qinghua's tone of voice sounded far from being an order, but it felt as a command all the same. 

And Jiao Qingxing cried, and cried, until his voice was gone and his heart felt hollow. And when there was nothing left for him to pour out, Shang Qinghua was there to hold him through, his presence a soothing balm that lulled Jiao Qingxing to sleep.

The next day, when Shang Qinghua left after they shamelessly slept in, there was a smile on Jiao Qingxing's blushing face, and a letter to Mu-shixiong ready to be sent, reporting not only the successful results of the session but also a request to discuss his treatment in depth.

-xx-

Ye Ling had a notebook.

Not an An Ding notebook, that was a separate one, filled with all types of forms and procedures, plans for classes and disciples’ names that needed to be kept close or the ones that should be praised. No, her notebook, well cherished and taken care of, had the cover made of dark leather, paper so used that it didn’t close properly anymore, calligraphy so small that, if her Shizun ever saw it he would say she was practicing to cheat on tests. 

Not that he would ever see it. If Shizun ever caught her notebook... 

She would be dead.

It had Shang-shizun’s entire love life noted somehow. The things she was able to piece together, at least. There were many gaps, her Shizun too paranoid for her to snoop too much without getting in trouble. And because she would be dead if her Shizun ever found the book, she took an extra step to write everything in code, with names and symbols that she had made herself.

Her Shizun had taught her well!! It didn’t hurt to be prepared!!

However, because her Shizun was also the person who taught her how to write things in code, when she saw her precious dark leather notebook in the hands of Shang Qinghua, An Ding Peak Lord himself, she felt her vision darkening, and the sound of her heartbeat so loud it made her ears hurt.

She could try her luck. He probably hasn’t seen her come in. She turned around, ready to bolt-

“Ye Ling.”

Oh. Oh no.

That wasn’t the “I am so angry I might actually go after Liu Qingge and throw him down.” voice.  

That was the “You didn’t file the form correctly and now I’m angry and disappointed” voice.

And it was so so much worse.

“Yes, Shizun?”

He closed the notebook and put it down in front of him right in the middle of his desk, as if daring her to get closer to grab it. Then, slowly, so slowly that all the hair in her arms and neck stood up, he raised his eyes at her, pressing the point of his index finger against the pad of his thumb, the only thing betraying calm posture.

“I won’t step in the way of my head disciple getting some extra coin.” He got up from his desk and her knees were going to fail her if he got closer, all the alarm bells ringing on her head. “But you must agree that I am entitled to some questions.”

She dropped to the floor so fast her hands slapped loudly on wooden boards, touching her forehead to the ground.

“This disciple is immensely sorry and apologizes! This lowly one is ready to accept her punishment as Shizun deems fit!!” At each word that she screamed, his footsteps got closer. “This one won’t complain and will take care of the entire course plan of the new disciples when time comes, this one is also willing-”

She wasn’t even aware of what she was promising anymore when he grabbed her by her forearms, picking her up as if she were a small crate of parchments to be moved, patting her sleeves to clean up the dust on her white robes.

“Stop that! It won’t work with me, young lady, in the school of begging for your life, I might be your grandmaster!” 

Shizun, have some decency! Show some mercy!! Normal people don’t brush off their students' meddling and betting on their love life! And they don’t confess being masters of begging for their life either!!

“No take backsies though, next batch of new disciples is all yours to teach.”

“But Shizun-”

“Nope, not hearing it! You said you would do it, they are yours now!”

“A-Aren’t you mad?” and it was a testimony of how confused she was that she didn’t even notice the extremely informal way she just addressed him. And thank Heavens her Shizun wasn’t one to stick to these types of formalities, otherwise she would be packing her bags to the sewage district for sure.

“Oh, don’t be silly, of course I’m not mad!”

“Uh-”

“I am furious,” and the glare he sent her way was scarier than Shen-shishu’s, she didn’t even know that was possible. “I don’t care if you make a betting poll on my sleeping habits or whatever I will quit my job before the next Immortal Alliance Conference, what I am disappointed about is the fact that you wrote it down!”

She didn’t flinch. She knew her Shizun would never touch a hair of her head to harm her in any way, and she knew she deserved this scolding. But in moments like these, when her Shizun is actually serious for a change, when she was reminded that her Shizun was an Immortal with enough strength to level mountains if needed, and a brain with so much information about everything and everybody that it was actually scary, it was very difficult to not send a prayer to the Heavens for her life.

The Sewers might not be so bad. Maybe.

“This one begs her Shizun for mercy, the notebook was in a safe location, I swear!”

“Not so safe if I was able to get my hands on it!” he argued back, and this close she could see the white of his eyes, his lips pulled down in an almost sneer. 

She lowered her head again, blinking to make the burning sensation in her eyes go away. She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t, tears were for playing victim and tricking the enemy, that’s what Shizun had taught her. 

She would swallow her pride and accept her fate. 

An inked finger touched her chest, right down her neck, making her tilting her head even lower to see what her Shizun would do next. But before she could move at all, he swept his finger up, catching her nose for just enough of a moment to make her stare at his hand cross eyed, letting her go with after a gentle squeeze. 

“I taught you better than that, Ye Ling.”

She didn't have the face to answer or look at him, so she only nodded, shoulders hunched to make herself smaller.

“Now, as for punishment, I want a complete research on codification of information, different types of ciphers, and talismans for protecting books and contracts.”

She raised her head, not wanting to complain about her good luck but also not believing in it one bit, twisting and pulling the cord of her head disciple pass on her waist. That was it? Getting stuck with the new disciples was harsh and a task more fit to her shimeis and shidis, her schedule as a head disciple already busy as it was. But… Teaching the kids, research on codes and… Nothing else?

“Also your notebook is mine now,” Ah. There it was. “I will give you another notebook later, but this one stays with me.” Then he twisted her around so she would be facing the door, pushing her all the way out of his office. “Good luck rebuilding your betting poll from scratch, now shoo, I have work to do!”

Then the door was shut with a faint “thud”, leaving her alone with heart fluttering on her chest like a bird that had escaped the claws of a very scary cat. Her hands were so sweaty she had to pat them down on her uniform to not drip it on the floor.

It was fine. She wasn’t dead, it was fine.

If you are alive, you can always start again, wasn't that what Shizun said?

But first she had some research to do.

---------

Can y'all believe this AU has more than 25k words? I never wrote so much for a fandom in my entire life lol

Now, about Shang Qinghua and Ye Ling: He is angry and so proud and so angry is not even funny. Mostly because that little notebook could have put him in a LOT of trouble with a certain demon King 👀 plus, I don't believe Shang Qinghua acts as much as a crying "weak" mess around his students, he has to teach them how to deal with a lot of shit from other peaks, so he lets An Ding disciples take a little peek under his "I'm just a silly guy please don't hurt me I will cry" mask. As a treat.

Ngl, this fic became a little bit of a indulging moment for me, and I had to get out of my comfort zone writing it! But I really hope you all like it <3

I'll post it on Ao3 later after I take a nap lol

10/12 PEAK HERE WE GOOOOOO :D

[katerinaaqu]

Hello! Been a frequenter on your page and I am I’m love with your work. I have a few questions, and I’m hoping you can re-wire the truth of Greek Mythology for me. (Cause some people…..you know) 1. Have Diomedes and Odysseus met before the Trojan War? If they didn’t, did they have general knowledge of the other at least? 2. I’ve heard that Odysseus wasn’t as physically intimidating as the others, (Agamemnon, Diomedes, etc) Is that true? Because sites and docs make Odysseus seem like he is a tiny, little man who likes to ONLY think in his tent and has everyone else do his heavylifting. Does he at least have some military experience? If you had to assign a body type for him, what actor, influencer, or singer would you say, “yeah that’s him.” 3. I know that Odysseus is, at least, in the morally gray side of the universe. Does he have his moments of “honor”, or certain people’s versions of “morally correct?” Does he have moments of selflessness, bravery, or integrity?

And some silly little questions. Since Odysseus is your favorite character, If he walked into a therapists office/physical examination/got analyzed by a classification system, when he walked out, what mental evaluation would have been made. Ex. PTSD, BPD, etc. (I searched on doctor google, and they said maybe he would be on the spectrum of ASPD.) If Odysseus was alive today, would he still be a schemer, liar, etc. Would it be tamed down? Not looking for the mental gymnastics as much?

I adore your stuff, keep on doing you. I hope to see more.

You are a frequenter to my page and you are asking me on how I feel on people drawing Odysseus as a tiny figure or whether I believe Odysseus is brave?! THE HORROR! Just kidding I am a yapper and I love analyzing that! So here we go every point at the time.

As always viewer's discretion is advised because my yapping will be non-stop!!!! XD

I remember answering that question in the past to someone else who was wondering of it. If we follow sources like Apollodorous for example, Diomedes was one of the suitors of Helen's and he was also bound under the Oath of Tyndareus. I suspect that was why Apollodorous wanted to explain as to why Diomedes was in the war to begin with. So under this version, Odysseus and Diomedes met for the first time in Sparta while both courted Helen. However I do side up more with other sources that do not include him because arguably Diomedes is the youngest or one of the youngest kings around and he would be very young to be courting Helen at that time (Even archaic paintings more often whatnot have him beard-less so that means he was in his 20s, maximum early 30s in the war when Iliad takes place, aka the final years so that means he joined when he was somewhere between 18-20 years of age). That also fits since some readings of the War of the Epigonoi in which Diomedes took part in, happened around 5 years before Troy when Diomedes was 14). As per readings Helen's courting happened 10 to 20 (as per Apollodorous extended narrative which again do not find me agreeable for! Hehe) years before Troy. Diomedes would literally be a child at that time. So I think it is more logical assumption to believe they met for the first time in Aulis at the gathering of the fleet. As for whether they knew each other by narrations, possibly. Judging on how the kings spoke to Diomedes about his father Tydeus, means that they had knowledge of him and his war with the other Seven against Thebes so yes I believe they have heard of each other but I do not think they actually met before Aulis. They are a generation apart after all!

Gosh...yeah I see it all the time and honestly I am soooo tired of it (I mean sure art is art and everyone is free to draw what they want but honestly I don't think I have ever seen something more inaccurate than people draw Odysseus like a tiny skinny guy and man ONLY STAYS IN HIS TENT?! Lol the dude was lifting the entire Trojan War if not the Epic Cycle on his back! XD I even made this post a while back:

Odysseus? Really? The guy that stood his ground against behemoth Ajax in their wrestling in the funeral games of Patroclus? (Sure when Ajax managed to take the upper hand for one second, Odysseus cheated and kicked him behind the knee but then they were wrestling again and literally neither of the two could come on top). Or Odysseus that basically made Irus, the beggar and all the suitors back off in wonder when he showed his body during his match against Irus (of whose jaw he broke with just ONE punch)? The guy whose back and thighs were so thoroughly described in the Odyssey that it became ridiculous!? Hahaha right!

Arguably his first description happens in the Iliad, which I am citing in this analysis of mine in the past:

Odysseus is described usually short or average to short of structure and then Homer proceeds to explain to us how he is wider in the shoulder and the chest than Agamemnon who was a head taller than him. He is described that he looks like a ram, as I mentioned to my analysis; an animal sturdy, proud and strong. Odysseus has arguably one of the best physiques out heroes despite his age (which makes one wonder how he was in his peak at the age of 30 or something)

As for whether he sat in his tent all day I think that if there is even one person who said that he hasn't read a single thing on Homer. Odysseus was always in the center of all action of the war. Yes, he does refrain from rushing in battle (In the Iliad for example he kept his troops away from action till it was their right moment to arrive or that he placed himself as almost for last to fight with Hector because yeah he wasn't in the mood on dying that day!) but he was always fighting to the front lines, he was always inserting himself in the events that were happening. He was taking part in secret missions such as the one we see in the Iliad (Diomedes and himself going to counter-spy the enemy field or in the Odyssey how he literally sneaks in Troy, which is linked to the Palladium of Athena heist story).

As I mention to that humorous post of mine; Odysseus literally does almost everything in the war; he was ambassador, he was settling things between kings when they had conflicts, he was fighting first line when he had to (but knew when to refrain from it to assure his safety and the safety of his men, thus suffering the bare minimum losses at war), he kept everyone together when he had to, he captured Helenus and extracted the prophecy from him, he went to get the Palladium himself, he came up with the Horse idea and he was one of the first inside the horse etc. Even in the Odyssey; he conquered Ismarus, he killed the suitors himself, he was ready to fight gods and monsters for his men etc. I think the sources speak on themselves.

Yes he does have military experience. For starters the slaves in his palace are called δμωαί which means "slave acquired at war" so most likely he did some of it himself. Two he has the bow that was given to him as a gift for offering assistance to Messina (although the exact length or nature of it is not mentioned in the Odyssey) and Penelope informs us that Odysseus faced the Taphian pirates before (when she mentions the incident of Antinous's father arriving to the palace chased after and begged Odysseus to save his life). Odysseus definitely has military experience (possibly his military successes made him also king while his father was alive, potentially Laertes recognized his son's talent and retired) but it seems that his military experience was not of a large or extended scale (for example like Diomedes) or of conquering nature (like Agamemnon or Diomedes, the first expanded the influence of his kingdom and the latter conquered Thebes, took control of Argos and regained control of his grandfather's lands for him) but they seem rather of domestic nature, such as the mutiny of the Taphians, an area close to his kingdom or offering assistance to a fellow king without getting too much into detail.

Hmm hard to say that I can find some straight out similarity to Odysseus that is a very good question.

I think though so far the greatest resemblance I could find was Christos Tsagas who played Odysseus in Iphigenia movie in 1977 whom I am mentioning here:

And here:

That was literally my moment of

3. Actually I have referred to the matter in another answer of mine:

As I mentioned to that ask of mine, I think the characterization of "morally gray" for Odysseus at least as far as Homer is concerned is not doing him full justice. Odysseus has no problem recognize right from wrong nor does he make bad decisions without thinking even if he knows is not morally correct. Yes, he oftentimes is ready to cheat (see for example the match of Ajax) and he is capable of twisting his words on certain things but he doesn't seem to be the type of person that consistently breaks the law for the loves of it (now his version on certain post-homeric sources such as the plays of Euripides who was consistently writing Odysseus negatively, or Conon, who is the oldest known version to my knowledge of the story in which he tries to backstab Diomedes) I do not see much to characterize him as such. Perhaps the alleged murder of Palamedes would be one (even if we do not know what the contribution of Odysseus was in the Epic Cycle for sure given how we only know Epic Cyle moments from scholiasts and later sources, but as I said I find it way too complicated matter to characterize him straight out as "morally gray" in general much less for Homer

However I absolutely understand what you mean.

Once again I get disappointed when people always assume that Odysseus is like the dude that would step on you to save his ass and laugh in the night about it when we have literally the lengths to which he went in the ENTIRE Odyssey which I analyze here:

Or how he went to save Diomedes in Rhapsody 11 in Iliad! He literally rushed to his assistance and gave him his chariot and stayed behind to cover his retreat. Odysseus also is named the most pious to the gods and the best when it comes to sacrifices by Zeus himself. He protects his men by literally sacrificing his own body when he was forced to accept Circe's bed and mind you he was ready to face her WITHOUT knowing how to beat her spell. Hermes just happened to be on his way. Odysseus didn't know that he would have help. He literally went towards the unknown, with just his sword at hand, to face an immortal witch without knowing what to do because he cared for his men and he was planning his way through. He was ready to fight Skylla. He also tried to test the suitors so all of them wouldn't need to die. He also scolds his wetnurse for wishing to cry out of joy upon seeing the results of the slaughter.

Even in post-homeric sources we know from Pausanias that Odysseus gave Penelope a choice whether she wanted to marry him or return to her father. So he respected her decision. In Sophocles's "Ajax" he feels sympathy for Ajax's condition and he insists upon giving him a proper burial when all other kings turned their backs on him. He also protects the body of Achilles alongside Ajax before that etc.

I think people saying Odysseus has no honor or integrity or that he is totally immoral or that he is not brave or has no selflessness simply haven't read enough of Odysseus. The entirety of the Odyssey was him trying to save what he can from his crew and placing himself in harm's way for them and protecting them with all he had.

~~~~~~~~

Hmm that is an interesting question. Quite frankly I do not think it is fair to always find disorders or syndromes to the Greek heroes and such because just because someone has certain behavioral patterns doesn't necessarily mean they need to be diagnosed just like with everyday people after all. What is more certain behavioral patterns in Greek mythology can be partially "ignored" in one way given how the ancient Greek sources also speak of pre-determined events and such so the agency of the heroes is rather blurry subject but that being said here we go.

I absolutely wouldn't say that Odysseus belongs to the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum. Especially when Homer is concerned. I mean as per DSM-5 ASPD in order to be diagnosed we have:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. (Odysseus doesn't conform to social norms? Who is the one in charge for sacrifices? Who respects the gods to the level of not wishing to offer assistance to people at war because they break the rules Odysseus who desires to honor the customs of Xenia to the extreme? The only "social norm" he doesn't seem to be dealing with is the direct "heroic" battle and he prefers to use wits to do his bidding. Is that outside the ideal social role? Yes. Was he though encouraged or helped by Athena? The goddess that literally dictates some basic social norms? Also yes. Him not being conformed in one specific pattern is not necessarily sign of disorder otherwise everyone's uniqueness is considered a symptom XD As for the things he steals or takes I remind you the actions were encouraged by Athena or placed up by the circumstances or dictated by prophecies and ironically most of the actions happen in harsh warfare. I doubt anyone would be judged if they stole information from an enemy base to help your side. In fact Odysseus resents the idea of stealing from the cave of Polyphemus and run even if his men want to)

Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure. ("for personal profit or pleasure" is the key here. When does Odysseus lie and use aliases? When he needs to protect himself or when he needs to protect others for example with the suitors or Polyphemus. I mean who would go in a room full of men who wanna murder you, over 100 of them, and you would say "hey what's up! It is I!" or in Polyphemus? Who wouldn't lie or hide? In other cases when Odysseus hides his identity or lies about it is when he is not certain he is safe. He doesn't lie just to deceive others and get himself gain something that belongs to others -unless we count some versions created in future sources-. His aliases are usually created for some reason and let's be honest in the situations he was in, most of us would have done the same. Even in Philoctetes where he basically says that he would be a chameleon and slither himself in every situation when the situation calls for it, is also an interesting thing to imagine that we often do so as well don't we? We try to form ourselves up to a situation if we need to.)

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead. (Impulsivity in certain cases is done by everyone. You do take impulsive decisions or do something out of impulse. In order for this to be pathologic one needs to be doing it consistently. Odysseus arguably always plans ahead. He literally planned the whole "I am nobody" trick so that just in case Polyphemus had allies with him the fake name would confuse them, which actually happpened. He also arguably created allies to both Tyndareus and himself with the Oath of Tyndareus. The fact that he didn't calculate Menelaus would use the oath to get Helen back 10 years later I am not sure if it actually counts as "inability to plan ahead". Also miscalculations to a plan can still happen for example not calculate the true magnitude of of the taking of Troy but again I doubt if that counts again as "failiure to plan ahead". Quite frankly his scheme to take Troy was a perfect success. The fact that several of his schemes turn boomerang against him might as well be seen through the spectrum of fate as well. As for certain impulsive things that he does aka reveling his name to Polyphemus one can say who wouldn't have done so if you think the extreme anxious situation that he was under; days and days of psychological torment and extreme anxiety with barely any sleep or proper food and such? Who wouldn't lose control?)

Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. (Aggressiveness is definitely part of his persona in more ways than one. But of course that is part of multiple psychological conditions including Anxiety and Depression and of course Odysseus even in Iliad was already a 10 year war veteran which again is behavior often seen in those who have been through warfare)

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others. (Regardless of safety? Odysseus? Who is always keeping his men out of harm's way or advises them to do so? At war he gets in battle when it is the best moment for him and his men, in the Odyssey he repeatedly warns them against certain decisions etc. The fact that more often whatnot Odysseus thinks of death or has some reckless or impulsive decision is again not done consistently and we see that we have moments like that in our everyday life as well)

Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations. (Consistent irresponsibility for the man that was basically looked upon every time something bad happened to fix it? The man that always advised others to make good decisions? The man that seems the very definition of "one pays his depts" guy? I would say not. He often speaks on his emotions and mind you the fact that he managed to sustain provisions on Helios's islands and feed 40 men for an elongated amount of time while famish lasted I would say he knows how to manage his economics and such! Hahaha!)

Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another (He bawls his eyes out of remorse in the island of Phaeakes not once but TWICE when he hears a man singing about Troy. Odysseus is not void of emotion or of the essence of right or wrong and he definitely shows remorse for his actions or he knows when he has to admit it for example he knows the act of murder of the suitors was arguably wrong and yet necessary as per Athena's advise as well but again as far as Homer is concerned)

Of course bear in mind that I am no psychologist or psychiatrist so these are my interpretation as someone who is enthusiastic on psychology.

As I said above I think people making Odysseus's lies as something that consists his whole persona as if he has nothing else to offer is wrong in the first place because if one thinks the conditions he lived in he was always on his guard and worried. So even if one speaks on the lies being too many, they are not necessarily a product of ASPD. Lying is also part of others like PTSD or Depression given how many people lie out of fear or worry over something.

That being said if in modern age Odysseus was a survivor of a terrible tragedy and a war veteran on top of that then absolutely he would act on a similar basis as well as others

So instead of that I think one thing I would "diagnose" Odysseus with, again based on the homeric poems mainly would be

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

For PTSD as per DSM-5:

A. Exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence in one (or more) of the following ways:

Directly experiencing the traumatic event(s). (Ι mean...no need to elaborate here now do we?)

Witnessing, in person, the event(s) as it occurred to others. (This speaks on its own. He has experienced both trauma at war by being hurt or chased after or under stress or he was raped and used lost and almost died multiple times or witnessed people die around him such as his fellow kings -Ajax- or his comrades)

Learning that the traumatic event(s) occurred to a close family member or close friend. In cases of actual or threatened death of a family member or friend, the event(s) must have been violent or accidental. (He literally met his mother in the underworld who told him she died of sorrow while waiting of him, he saw his comrade Elpenor and he found out he died, he heard that his wife was struggling and that his father lost his mind among others)

Experiencing repeated or extreme exposure to aversive details of the traumatic event(s) (e.g., first responders collecting human remains: police officers repeatedly exposed to details of child abuse). (This part is tricky because as far as the Odyssey is concerned we do not know how often Odysseus was experiencing dreams or flashbacks of what happened although arguably he was always remembering it, for example when he was mistreated by the suitors he was reminding himself to endure because he had endured worse before and he remembers Polyphemus so we can assume he definitely had some close calls with his past and dreams before or at least that he constantly thinks of them)

So as per the B section of DSM we do have the factor of reoccurring memories or dreams. As I said as far as Odyssey is concerned we do not have much on the stimuli through dreams however if I may draw the attention to one of the factors:

Recurrent Involuntary and intrusive distressing memories of the traumatic event(s) (Odysseus cries his eyes out once a heroic song about Troy begins to play. His memory of the war sneaks in to the point that he blows his anonymity and not only that his memory is stimulated enough to say his story and explain himself to the presented members)

As per the C part of it:

C. Persistent avoidance of stimuli associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by one or both of the following:

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus doesn't want to reveal his identity again. When he is taken in by Nausicaa he hides who he is. He doesn't speak on himself. He avoids the subject altogether. He knows he has little to no possibility to get the help he needs without honoring the part of Xenia law that involves himself to reveal who he is and yet he is not ready to speak up)

Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s). (Odysseus refuses to take part to athletic activities in Scheria. He doesn't want to blow his cover but also potentially he knows that this brings him memories from the funerary games of the army. He also knows he will always go in full force at what he does so participating would blow his cover and potentially make him reveal who he is, something he avoids)

D. Negative alterations in cognitions and mood associated with the traumatic event(s), beginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Inability to remember an important aspect of the traumatic event(s) (typically due to dissociative amnesia and not to other factors such as head injury, alcohol, or drugs). (This one doesn't apply here because Odysseus has a very sharp memory. He explains everything in detail. We also do not see him in Homer abusing alcohol or anything else -and I mean it IS an ancient text after all Homer was no psychologist)

Persistent and exaggerated negative beliefs or expectations about oneself, others, or the world (e.g., “I am bad,” “No one can be trusted,” ‘The world is completely dangerous,” “My whole nervous system is permanently ruined”). (Odysseus often talks with regret about his decisions during his narration but he also expresses rage many times over on the events that took place. He also calls his comrades "mindless" many times over especially on events that marked his trip's outcome such as the sack of Aeolus or the cows of Helios. Of course that is only natural in one essence so it doesn't necessarily need to be a symptom but I am throwing that to the table)

Persistent, distorted cognitions about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s) that lead the individual to blame himself/herself or others. (Once more even though Odysseus doesn't specifically speak on cause and effect apart from the mentions we get in the Odyssey but he does seem to try and figure the root of the problem. He is also speaking negatively on himself or speaking on shameful moments of his trip also certain things like Imsarus he just mentions them. He doesn't even get to elaborate those but moments such as Charybdis or Skylla etc were thoroughly described! Or the shipwreck)

Persistent negative emotional state (e.g., fear, horror, anger, guilt, or shame). (Once again explanation not needed; ashamed to be washed by maidens, fear that he might be trapped again, angry and irritated, feeling guilt. All the emotions in the Odyssey are here)

Markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities. (He is not interested in showing his potential to the Phaeakes or speak of his name or heritage even when he heard the song for the first time so he might have clues that they are positively thinking towards him)

Feelings of detachment or estrangement from others. (He is a stranger, a beggar. He sits in the corner. Most of the time he is silent. He is the oddity in the room. He doesn't become the center of attention till his emotions betray him and he has to speak to the Phaeakes on who he is)

Persistent inability to experience positive emotions (e.g., inability to experience happiness, satisfaction, or loving feelings). (He is crying for seven years at the beach longing for his home. He is rarely ever pictured laughing. His feelings of distrust and anger continue and expand even to his wetnurse whom he feels he has to threaten in order to be on the safe side. He feels betrayed by the gods even as he calls out to Athena and reminds her that she didn't help him when he needed her the most)

E. Marked alterations in arousal and reactivity associated with the traumatic event(s), be ginning or worsening after the traumatic event(s) occurred, as evidenced by two (or more) of the following:

Irritable behavior and angry outbursts (with little or no provocation) typically expressed as verbal or physical aggression toward people or objects. (Odysseus definitely shows irritable behavior through and through to the Iliad when he beats up Thersites to make an example out of him or when he loses control when Eurylochus hurts his ego by calling out to him for being enchanted by Circe and he basically brings up a painful memory; the Cyclops incident. Odysseus cannot take this and he is ready to literally slay his brother-in-law on the spot and he is stopped by the others)

Reckless or self-destructive behavior. (HERE is where I would put some of that recklessness we see in the Odyssey; Odysseus wishing to rescue his men no matter what; he is ready to fight a goddess with little to no plan to save the little he has left of men after his loss by the Laestrigonians, he is ready to fight Skylla for them, he provokes the suitors to see who is rotten and who is not.)

Hypervigilance. (No explanation needed here! Odysseus constantly sees enemies and reasons to distrust people. He doesn't allow his men near the sack of winds, he remains awake even to do it all by himself. He saw danger to the bay of Laestrygonians and tied his ship outside the bay -and he was proven right-, despite the fact he was in friendly company, he hides himself from the Phaeakes and he constantly tests or measures people, even his wetnurse needs to be threatened in his mind, even the loyal slave Eumeus needs to wait a bit before fully trusted to be placed within the scheme he was planning. Even when the Phaeakes were proven true to him and brought him home, when he woke up and he didn't recognize his own country, his first thought was that the Phaeakes tricked him.)

Exaggerated startle response. (He literally grabs his wetnurse by the throat when she is ready to shout. He is even threatening on top of that to make sure that she will not speak up despite his orders)

Problems with concentration. (This doesn't seem to apply here since Odysseus is hyper focused most of the time either when he tells his story or when he is planning the murder of the suitors)

Sleep disturbance (e.g., difficulty falling or staying asleep or restless sleep). (This one again is tricky since we have no clue but at the moments we see Odysseus sleeping for example during his return, we see him sleep peacefully. We do not see much on nightmares he might or might not have. Perhaps he has some but the thought of his homeland puts him at peace)

Suicidal thoughts are also common and Odysseus thought about ending his own life many times over in the Odyssey; from the moment the sack of winds was opened and he saw his home away once more till the moment he was at Calypso's isle and he was thinking of death daily.

The dude even had a syndrome named after him known as "Ulysses Syndrome" or migrant syndrome of chronic and multiple stress Basically it involves chronic stress especially for people who spent years in anxiety while moving from one place to another (to put it very roughly)

Okay please psychologists and psychiatrists do not come and have my head for this I am only doing this for fictional characters and not for real people, I am just enthusiast of psychology and not an actual psychologist so yeah...guys be gentle with me! XD

But yeah I think this whole thing on "Odysseus is a liar" as if that is his reason of existence or that he is like a pathological liar or that he doesn't have any sort of moral code I feel like it misses the whole point of the homeric hero (although some examples of post-homeric and roman sources might fit that better)

Hope this answers some of your questions dear Anon and sorry this was sooooooo long! Yeah I am normal about that guy! XD

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Can someone please tell me when Dracule Mihawk became an anime sex symbol? Because excuse me, that is my dorky goth dad who doesn't know how to use an air fryer. So when did he become a big titty Goth Daddy?

To start with, I don't even think he bangs. Well, he and Shanks may have had a thing when they were in their 20s. But everyone makes mistakes in their twenties, and that is part of the reason why Shanks drives him crazy. He's the biggest fuckboy to ever whore about the grand line. You're telling me Shanks doesn't have at least a dozen illegitimate kids sprinkled throughout the grand line. I'm shocked Beckman hasn't put that boy on a leash yet, at least to mitigate some of the drunken shenanigans. Poor Beck, that man needs a vacation and a raise. But back on topic, Mihawk’s too mature for that stupidity, so Shanks drives him absolutely crazy now because he hasn't grown up past his fuckboy stage. So I'm pretty sure he's like Zoro. As in, his sexuality is swords, and he falls somewhere on the ace spectrum.

But if he did bang. His lazy ass doesn't have a top/Dom bone in his body. He's a complete pillow princess. Remember, he sails the ocean while napping, and if anything dares disturb his beauty sleep. They shall face his wrath. He will wipe them out of existence and feel completely justified in doing so. And you're telling me that doesn't sound like something your lazy coworker would do if they had the option. So, I don't think he will be your daddy-dom. So I hope you have dreams of doming him. I think he'd like it. Again, I don't think he has the top / Dom bone in his entire body, a complete and utter pillow princess. So spoil that man rotten or take him down a peg or two. He does have an ego. But he's worked so hard to get to where he's at now, so that ego is deserved. It's not cocky if you can back it up

So, be respectful. That is my reluctant goth dad of two. He may not know how to use an air fryer or a TV. But he's a world-renowned expert in his very niche field of expertise. Don't judge

And what is this about his slutty sleeves? Am I missing something?

Defend Your Blurbo #19

Please remember this post is about curiosity and genuine fandom discourse. Be kind with your answers because this is not a debate essay, this is a discussion between fans.

Meet Dracule Mihawk, The World's Greatest Swordsman from One Piece. He did kinda adopt Zoro and Perona, but only after they broke into his house and refused to leave. So, a reluctant father makes sense. If you don't know who Zoro and Perona are, a GIF of them is below

To answer the question, about the slutty sleeves it comes from the live action specifically this one moment I'll find the GIF

If you look, the sleeves are not sewn on. They're laced on. One, it's extremely practical because of freedom of movement. Two, it's historically accurate, and three, it shows just a little extra bit of skin, and the people went nuts. That should also answer your question of why Mihawk is suddenly considered so hot now. The live-action did him a solid, and the actor nailed the performance.

So, One Piece Fandom, I'm already scared for my inbox just based on the content of this one. Get ready and Defend Your Blorbo

[nkgrimmie]

One of my side fic ideas I'm toying with is that Orange accidentally makes Alan into a stick figure during Showdown (instead of bringing the giant cursor back, his powers work on his I'm-about-to-pass-out nonsense desire for Alan himself to be there.) and because I keep seeing these SCP-AU posts, my brain has unhelpfully supplied this nonsense:

What if Orange gets so scared for Alan that he accidentally stick-ifies him, his powers perhaps acting on his desire of desperately wanting Alan to be somewhere safe/safe with them?

Alan's just in the middle of them testing him when all of a sudden his body just collapses like a sack of potatoes, completely unresponsive and virtually brain dead because everything that makes him 'Alan' has just been yoinked right out of him.

Meanwhile, Alan just pops into existence on the computer, and probably proceeds to freak the hell out.

Orange probably isn't even aware that HE did it too, so literally no one would be able to get answers about what happened. Orange and Alan himself are just as confused as everyone else.

Anyway, sorry for this weirdness, just had to get it out of my brain.

(NO ITS OKAY I LOVE WEIRDNESS!! WEIRDNESS IS LIKE MY WHOLE BRAND THAT'S WHO I AM)

[ALSO, that is SUCH a cool fic idea!!! anything with stick!alan is absolutely amazing, especially when his body isn't just gone...]

OKOKOK SO

imagine what would happen when he collapses... they flip him over and check him over and he has a pulse and is breathing but he's completely unresponsive other than reflex movements...

oohhhohohohoh it would he so fucked if it happened while running an experiment that they hadn't done with him before, probably ending in them thinking the test somehow caused it... oh my

okay but imagine if not everything was taken away from his human body... im already planning on doing weird body stuff in this au so why not talk about this?? imagine if most of him was in the stick, but a little bit was still leftover in the human?? just enough to carry out basic human functions, like eating, walking, using the... you know, understand language, etc. but not enough to fully comprehend what's going on. like not where it's like he's brain damaged or anything, just that he's very very very dazed and somewhat unaware and seems distracted all the time, but sometimes he seems more aware, almost to a normal level, but those would be very short... im sorry i absolutely LOVE this sort of stuff. like the kind of "one soul two bodies" stuff where they're not actually separate or anything, it's just one person that's on a spectrum between body 1 and body 2, and is capable of moving around in said spectrum

oo oo oo or imagine if the transfer wasn't but instead was a little more drawn out... with him feeling dazed and tired, unable to think or even feel clearly, before slipping away into the computer completely... that doesn't really have to do with the SCP au i just wanted to say that SKSLJBDJ

thank you so much for the supplied nonsense. you've given me thoughts to distract me from schoolwork

[scu-watchparty]

Are you a diehard SCU fan? Have no idea what that means, but you're a fan of Slimecicle, or just MCYT in general? You've heard the name of the Slimecicle Cinematic Universe thrown around for a while now and have been curious, but have no idea where to start? This is an event for anyone along that spectrum of SCU-ness!

Welcome to the SCU Winter Watchparty!

Or maybe book club? It's somewhere between the two, as this event will compile and curate a schedule for everyone to watch along on their own, with a video or few every week! And hopefully, by the end of it, a full tour of the SCU world. Those who know what the SCU is like may be raising their eyebrows, because yes- there is no set watch order or even viewing list for the SCU. And yet, I will be attempting to wrangle up a full picture of the SCU anyway, with communal input gathered through multiple stages of this event. The SCU is so fun because of the creative and communal interpretation allowed in it, and the hope is to facilitate that so even more people can get in on the fun! Here's how that'll look.

Phase 1 of this event involves VIDEO SUBMISSIONS, with a two week period for anyone who does know and love the SCU to tell me all about their own watching playlists. The form is designed to allow any and all elements to be submitted for the pool of media I will pull from in order to create the full SCU experience, so there is no limit- submit your most creative crackpick, that's part of the SCU experience!

Phase 2 of this event is THE WATCHPARTY, after all submissions have been pooled, and a watching list has been posted. The idea will be to provide a small selection of videos everyone can pick from to watch that week, with one primary recommendation every week. These primary recommendations will sketch the most common SCU timelines, but all submitted videos will also be included along the way! Everyone can watch as much or as little as they'd like, and any participation is encouraged and will be reblogged to this blog in order to create that watchparty environment! Liveblogs, analysis, fanart, and more, anything the watch inspires, can be tagged with #scuwatch and will be reblogged here over the course of this phase (estimated to last roughly two months).

And in an epilogue phase, there will be no official posts from this blog, but will be a two week span dedicated to SCU partying, where this blog will continue to reblog any final liveblogs, analysis, and fanart.

The exact dates for these three phases can be found here! Over the next two or three months, SCU Winter Watchparty will be here to help spice up these dreary winter months.

(And luckily, apples don't grow in the winter.)

[littletism]

happy aromantic visibility day to my fellow aro littles, caregivers, and everyone in between!

i know for certain i fall on the aromantic spectrum somewhere, i just don’t know where yet. i hope i can find out someday! ^_^

[luthinks]

I think a lot of people really need to go back and read all of Rafayel's story if they think he's not fully capable within his own resolve to feel and act that way. I'm not saying he can't be influenced in the segment of the story we see in the trailer by some higher power, but everyone seems to forget be "wants to settle the score" with MC is there are heavy implications all over his story that he believes she did, in fact, betray him. Whether he knows why or how or if she was also influenced by something else is unknown. I just need the fandom to fr stop trying to princess this man who is capable of mass murdering people who have hurt and hunted Lemurians and can both love and resent MC for whatever jumble of memories he holds. The biggest problem this company created was giving Rafayel purely sappy cards to cater to his huge fan base in China. It's made everyone forget he is dark and angry.

Rafayel is definitely fully capable of taking action on his own against the people who have wronged him and his people and he does so many times. But the mass murdering aspect is also kind of exaggerated. The only people he has canonically killed which we as players have seen are, the person in the theater from Siren's song anecdote and possibly Raymond. Other instances we hear are from other characters — like the sea monster murders and stuff — I take that with a grain of salt cuz the people who were murdered, who worked for ever and experimented on lemurians, left ever group before they got murdered. It could also be ever group killing them and landing the blame on Rafayel. We'll never know, it's upto us what to believe. Knowing papergames, it's not going to be this straight forward but we'll just have to see how they expand on it.

And coming to the "he wants to settle score with MC" part, to me, he didn't sound malicious while he was saying that ... The first thing he did after coming back to linkon was to look up information about MC and make sure she's safe. He even confronted one of the raincoats to inquire if MC was on ever's list. In my personal opinion him settling the score with MC here probably refers to her having forgotten him. I don't think he's even going to hold it against her if she ever betrayed him. He has had multiple dialogues that say, even if she's leading him into a trap, he'd willingly walk into it.

He's definitely bitter that she had forgotten him and everything that happened but he doesn't want to harm her. Like in chapter 7 while he was going to fight the big sea monster, he told MC to stay away because he can't ensure her safety otherwise. And when MC invokes the bond and tells him to not go, he's melancholic that she forgot everything but even then she insists.

Tbh I think one of his major fears is MC will come to dislike him when she comes across his changed self (as he mentioned in omnipotent perception).

In my opinion both the extremities, that Rafayel is all sunshine and roses who's just a brat doing his bratty stuff, and that he's a cold blooded killer that despises MC and wouldn't hesitate one bit before killing even her are two ends of a spectrum. How people feel about him lies between that depending on their own interpretations.

While I believe him to be somewhere in the middle, (I'm team "Rafayel is never going to harm MC no matter what it looks like unless he's possessed, but he'll end anyone who tries to harm her or his lemurian subjects no questions asked" 😂) but at the same time I think it's okay for people to have different beliefs on that scale. Some might have liked the innocent care free side of his more which led to a sharp contrast with recent branch PV, so the angst is inevitable... It's okay for them to lament the loss of this sunshine aspect of his character ... While others might be excited about the dark aspects of his character being explored more, that is also fine. It's a game where all of us are playing at a different pace, and also some of the lore locked behind limited cards ends up with different people having different interpretations, even the timeline of how we get all the content is out of order. So it makes sense that, a complex character like Rafayel would generate a spectrum of opinions 😅.

All in all as long as people aren't being rude to other players I think it's fine how they personally interpret Rafayel's character... I personally believe that the sunshine carefree Rafayel and ruthless cold Rafayel are both part of his personality, neither is more real than the other. But my interpretation might not be in line with others, and that's completely fine too.

P.S. I'm very sorry if this came off as preachy or condescending. I'm not very good at expressing myself while writing 😅