#anyway. insanity taking over
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twelverriver · 2 years ago
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ethan hunt & buffy summers: my girlfriend is a murderer so what that doesn't make her a bad person!!
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This is what happened after 3.1 isn't it?
#hsr#phaidei#phaidei nation I humbly offer thee a low quality meme to cope with the doomed yaoi that was going on#phainon#honkai star rail#fellas is it gay for your red coded rival to your blue coded rival to clasp his hands over your own after you stabbed him#due to thinking he was the objective of your revenge quest#pull your sword deeper in and by consequence add to your proximity while smiling and fondly say “Found you.”?#Was it casual when you had an insanely charged and homoerotic scene in the hot baths that had you face down on the ground at his feet?#no but seriously these two have me in a chokehold#what do you MEAN you told him your precise weak spot just in case you became you turned against his cause#and his presumed future EMIYA Archer coded shadow self immediately went precisely for it?#and you KNOW you'll die with a wound in that weak spot in your back and you told him about it anyway#and you tell people to keep an eye on him after you go to meet your fate and then ask him to watch over your people#and he says he'll work hard to learn your language#AND FINALLY#“If there's a chance in the next life you should come visit my library.” WHAT IF I PERISHED ON THE SPOT?!#that's their “See you in the next world.”; their “Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.”;#their “I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”; “You were a wonderful experience. You were everything.” etc etc#they make me ill (positive)#also I find it so funny that as a KevinSu shipper in HI3rd I went into Star Rail expecting for the dynamic to be more coded with Anaxa#only for Phaidei to hit literally all of my points and favorite tropes in a ship and by consequence my head with a steel chair lol#really hope we see Mydei again soon because literally the first thing Phainon does after he's gone is talk about him all the time#he is a professional yearner and I respect him for it (especially since I too miss Mydei as if he's Odysseus going off to war and sea#for 20 years and I'm Penelope waiting at the shores of Ithaca)#also sorry for the low quality screenshot I was literally too invested in the quest to try and take better ones#gotta love how Hoyoverse is always giving the Kaslanas some of the best romances in their games and ESPECIALLY so if they're queer#myphai
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lukazade · 4 months ago
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Sleepover with two puny mortals that you're in love with (and everything can go right).
Lowkey based on a fanfic I was writing, but as usual I haven't the confidence to post it! Yeah~
Had this in the drafts for months,,,, figured I'd finish it up now so it's done. I like to kinda have some Finished art on the page hahahaha
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trauma-bot · 5 months ago
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sin eater
#sorry its been a minute!!! the horrors. you understand.#anyways yall ready for another gloom tag essay because here we go!!!#im constantly thinking about the ramifications of uzi literally eating cyn and her now being apart of her.#specifically how it impacts uzi mentally. like dgmw i LOVE the silly cyntail shenanigans in fanart (ive also contributed to this) however#when i really think about it in relation to uzi's arc i go crazy insane#uzi is a character who is grasping for control after a lifetime of not having it.#she has no control over how her peers treat her. she has no control over khan neglecting her for reasons that arent her fault.#she quite literally has no control over the solver taking her over and making her do monstrous things against her will#which solidifies her feelings of being a freak monster who everyone was right to outcast and mistreat.#because im Unwell i interpret her calling herself god as a way to convince herself of having control- and to lock away feelings of impurity#if anyone is in control- if anyone is loved and cherished despite any and all wrong doings- its a god.#and that all comes to a head when she eats the heart of cyn thereby destroying the AS- a literal manifestation of a corrupted god- for good#finally taking back control from the entity that had been terrorizing and traumatizing both her and her loved ones. but did she really?#cyn is apart of her now. powerless sure- but that doesnt take away the horrors she wrought previously#and even so- has uzi ever stopped being just a host? do you think shes terrified of cyn regaining power out of the blue?#do you think uzi ever stops feeling like a monster?#“sin eating” was a thing that happened where someone would consume ritual foods to take on the sins of a recently deceased person#thus absolving said deceased person of any sins and putting them onto the sin eater. being a sin eater ensured eternal damnation.#and i just think about that a lot. when applying that (symbolically ofc(somewhat literally. she very much is a cyn eater)) to what uzi did.#“gloom you're reading way too much into this” THE LITTLE GOTH ROBOT. MAKES ME INSANE IN THE HEAD. OK!!!!!#gloom.art#murder drones#murder drones fanart#murder drones uzi#uzi murder drones#uzi doorman#uzi md#md uzi#uzi fanart
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deltastorm101 · 1 year ago
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Alan Wake 2 — A Love Letter | Development Diary
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moonchild-in-blue · 2 months ago
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Hmmmm.
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Well.
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🤨🤔📐🕵️‍♂️
Also. All albums so far had 12 tracks (excluding deluxe/bonus versions). Hexagon = 6 sides. 2 Hexagons = 12 sides = 12 tracks
A side (Veridian) and B side (Feathered). I have connected the dots 👍
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blueskittlesart · 8 months ago
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*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?
tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.
#i really do have a love-hate relationship with this timeline#because it's FASCINATING lore. genuinely. and i think it carries over the themes of certain games REALLY well#but i also think it's indicative of a trend in loz's writing that has REALLY annoyed me for a long time#which is this intense need to cling to oot#and on a certain level i get it. that was your most successful game probably ever. and it was an AMAZING game.#and i think there's definitely some corporate profit maximization tied up in this too--oot was an insane commercial success therefore you'r#not allowed to make new games we need you to just remake oot forever and ever#and that really annoys me because it makes certain games feel disjointed at best and barely-coherent at worst.#i think the best zelda games on the market are the ones where the devs were allowed to really push what they were working with#oot. majora. botw. hell i'd even put minish cap in there#these are games that don't quite follow what was the standard zelda gameplay at their time of release. they were experimental in some way#whether that be with graphics or puzzle mechanics or open-world or the gameplay premise in its entirety. there's something NEW there#and because the devs of those games were given that level of freedom the gameplay really enforces the narrative. everything feels complete#and designed to work together. as opposed to gameplay that feels disjointed or fights against story beats. you know??#so I think that the willingness to allow botw and totk to exist independently from the timeline is good at the very least from a developmen#standpoint because it implies a willingness to. stop making shitty oot remakes and let developers do something interesting.#and yes i do very much fear that the next 20 years of zelda will be shitty BOTW remakes now#in which botw link appears and undergoes the most insane character assassination youve ever seen in your life#but im trying to be optimistic here. if botw/totk can exist outside the timeline then we may no longer be stuck in the remake death loop#and i'm taking eow as a good sign (so far) that we're out of the death loop!! because that game looks NOTHING like botw or oot.#fingers crossed!!#anyway sorry for the game dev rant but tldr timeline good except when it's bad#asks#zelda analysis
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neverbelessthan · 2 months ago
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SEVERANCE 2x06 | "I don't want her memory."
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emloafs · 9 months ago
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me leaving my bubble and seeing everyone hate on demetri for taking the last sekai taikai spot
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joodles98 · 10 months ago
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we all trying to make sense of swsh story. no problem ☺️👍🏼
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loverducky · 2 months ago
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tryouts | oliver aiku x gn!reader | 1.5k
suggestive (kink discussion, bondage and petplay mentioned) with some grinding + praise at the end, i’m tagging dubcon because oliver just kinda jumps into it, reader’s a little insecure, a lot oblivious, and is implied to be more on the inexperienced side, oliver’s like. a soft tease in this ngl, this is Very selfship coded and based on this post, sorrgy not sorrgy :3
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“so, whaddya think about being tied up?”
you and oliver are lounging about on the old couch you’ve got in your apartment. you lean forwards and grab your soda, half shrugging, “sounds fun to me! not a huge fan of those, like, metal handcuffs, they don’t look very comfortable, but rope and all that’s cool! shibari’s pretty too, although i don’t think i’d have the patience for it.”
you rest your face on your hand as you lean on the couch arm, cheek squishing a bit as you ask, “what about you? you got any fantasies about being tied up?”
he laughs, shaking his head, and you crack a smile when you notice how grown out the green is. “i’m more of the type to be doing the tying,” he says, shooting you a lopsided smirk, and you consider this with another sip, setting the can down on the table.
“huh. neat!” is your conclusion, and there’s a slight lull in the conversation as oliver stares at you. you tilt your head at him, curious, and he laughs again, quieter this time. weird.
“oh,” another thought occurs to you, “what‘s your opinion on petplay? ‘cause of the leash and all.” you gesture to your neck.
his smile turns cocky at that, and he leans in closer. “why, you trying to collar me?” he asks, voice low, and you turn to glare at him, fist raising in the air.
to his credit, he backs up in an instant, his hands held high like you’re holding him hostage. “woah, woah, woah, i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” he flashes a quick grin, “or am i?”
you roll your eyes and let your fist drop, going to grab your drink again, using it to gesture at oliver. “yeah, yeah. that’s not an answer, bitch.”
his arms drop to rest on the back of the couch, fingers tapping to an internal beat as he thinks. “sure, yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. sometimes they get all whiny, and that’s fun—”
you choke in the middle of chugging the rest of your soda, and you see his eyes flash towards you as you curl in on yourself. he scoots closer and pats you on the back while you hack away, his hand warm as he rubs circles into your shoulder blade. he grabs you some napkins from the table too, passing them over so you can wipe your mouth. when you finally straighten up, he leans back, smirking at you a little. you can only meet his gaze for a second before it drops to the floor, and suddenly sheepish, you mumble, “sorry bout that. wasn’t expecting you to bring up— well. you know.”
he nudges your thigh with his own, his voice teasing as he asks, “weren’t expecting me to bring up personal experience?”
“well, i mean,” you feel your body flush, and your shoulders hunch as you curse yourself internally. “i’ve told you this before, i know i have. haven’t i?”
your leg bounces in place as you continue to ramble. “it’s just that. well. i haven’t… god. okay.” you take a deep breath. inhale, exhale. “so, full disclosure. i haven’t really tried a lot of the things that i say i’m into? i guess it’s more like… i like the idea of that stuff?” your voice gets even quieter than before, “like, i, um. get off? to it?”
you’re not even sure if oliver hears those last bits. when you get the courage to look back up at him, though, he’s staring at you with a quiet intensity, a small smile playing at his lips that makes your gut twist in knots.
“something funny about that, asshole?” you clear your throat, trying to ease some of the tension that’s built up all of a sudden. “because i swear—”
“you interested in trying it?” oliver interrupts, and your mind blanks, your brow furrowing.
“trying… what?”
“petplay. or bondage.” your jaw drops a little and he laughs, not unkindly. “or anything else you think you might be into.”
you shut your mouth in a frown, kicking him lightly in the ankle. “very funny, you dick. there’s a reason i haven’t, you know.” you sigh dramatically, slumping over his lap with your full weight. you close your eyes, placing the back of your hand against your forehead as if you’ve fainted, and say, “not all of us are six foot tall football players with beautiful thighs.” your free hand pats them for emphasis, but with your eyes closed, you miss the flush of color that rises to his ears.
after a few long moments of silence, you peer through splayed fingers to see oliver looking down at you, that same soft smile on his face. he’s handsome, you think, reaching up to caress him, feeling the stubble scattered across his jawline. he lets you for a bit, before his hand grabs yours and guides it close, and you blink up at him in confusion as a gentle kiss is pressed to your wrist. you feel a wicked edge to his smile curl against your skin, then, and before you can tug it back into yourself, your arm is pinned high above your head.
oliver pulls his legs out from under you, and your second arm quickly joins the first, his body settling above your own with a practiced ease. you squirm in his grip, but he’s got you pinned against the couch, a knee between your legs and a smug look in his eyes. he leans down and you let out a little whine as he grinds his knee right where you want it, lust pooling between your thighs as your whole body shakes underneath him.
“well, would you look at that.” his voice drips with satisfaction, his eyes roving up and down your body appreciatively, and you bite back another embarrassing noise. “seems you do like being restrained, hm?”
you open your mouth to answer, only for your words to die with another half choked gasp as he grinds his knee into you again. his breath fans against your neck as he settles into the crook of it, alternating between soft kisses and tiny, nipping bites, and you feel like you’re losing your mind from how good everything feels. he’s got you by the wrists, his hold steady and warm and immovable, and at this point your hips are practically moving on their own, desperate for relief.
it doesn’t help that oliver won’t shut the fuck up. “-so cute like this, you know? always so loud, so brash, but all you wanted was a little attention, hm?” you feel the rumble of his laughter more than you hear it, feel it alongside the gentle scratching of his stubble, and you want to sob — from pleasure or relief, you’re not sure. “it’s alright, baby, you’ve got it, now. whatever you want, whatever you want to try, i’m right here, promise.”
your hands flex under oliver’s grip, and you whine again, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. your hips continue to buck against the sturdiness of his thigh, and you can pull yourself together just enough to whimper out a little “please.”
even you aren’t sure what you’re begging for, but when he lifts his head from where’s he’s been terrorizing your neck, the sheer lust in his eyes makes you shrink away from his attention. it’s too late, though. he rubs a little circle on your wrist with his thumb, before he switches his grip, holding both your wrists with one hand, the other guiding you by the chin to tilt your head into his. when he leans in and presses his lips to yours, it’s chaste at first, to your surprise, although your eyes still flutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours.
his free hand wanders down, down from your chin, down your chest and below your waistline, and oliver’s kiss gets greedier as it travels closer to where you need it, eventually swallowing your cries whole when finally, finally, he’s reached between your thighs.
the direct stimulation is too much, too fast, too quickly. oliver’s good, even when working with just one hand, and within the next minute the coil within you snaps. you stay there shuddering beneath oliver’s body for a while, him releasing his grip on your wrists and you clinging to him in turn. when you think you’ve settled enough, oliver sits up, grinning at you like a madman.
you, on the other hand, scowl at him and punch him in the arm on your way up, crossing your arms and huffing. “you dick! have you just been trying to get in my pants this whole time?”
he shrugs at you, cocky half grin still clear as day.
“unbelievable. this isn’t happening again,” you poke him hard in the chest, “you hear me?”
“sure, baby,” he says, easy as anything, and you already feel your heart start to race again. fuck. “wasn’t lying when i told you i’d be your partner if you wanted to try some of those other kinks out, though. what was it you said again? petplay?” he leans down, drops his voice, and grins, “you’d look cute in a collar.”
you shiver, glare up at him, and point at the door. “out!”
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once-more-with-anxiety · 2 months ago
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the most fun part of shipping to me is that you can literally do anything with it. who cares what other people think? we're all mentally ill people who are obsessing over fictional people. why does anybody even give a shit
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crystalpallette · 4 months ago
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ringo has never ever looked bad in an alt but my god she's hitting never before seen levels of Help Me lately
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clownakai · 21 days ago
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So uhm. Hi.
What is that bullet hole doing in there. Through a reflective/glassy surface??? That's not how Shuuichi "died". But you know which bullet passed through a glassy/reflective surface before hitting its target? The one that killed Scotch. And Rye himself is walking away, reflected in the shard Subaru took straight from the shattered glass. I'm going to be sick
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darkwings-and-horcruxes · 7 months ago
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There’s this deep possessiveness at the center of Luffy’s chest whenever he looks at Sanji. 
Come with me. Be mine. I want you. 
But he can’t take him by force - no matter how much he wants him. Sanji has chained himself to the Baratie with ropes made of grief and guilt, and he’s hard-pressed to let go, even now.
People don’t stay for Luffy, but he’s hoping Sanji may stay with him for the sake of his Dream. That’ll be enough - to have Sanji by his side while they accomplish their dreams together. 
Or maybe, he’ll stay with him for the sake of Nami. Luffy knows the way the others have written Sanji’s flirtations off, but there’s a depth to Sanji’s feelings, visible in the way that he looks at Nami like she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, like he’s blessed to have her near him. Maybe Luffy’s not worth staying for, but Nami is. It's why he’s going after her despite everything she says.
No matter the reason, he just needs Sanji to stay.
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girlsn0t · 2 months ago
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sunlight in the temple of aphrodite- h/ades + e/pic snz, a/pollo and a/phrodite
@stargazersnz and i have become deranged about a/pollo. please enjoy this absurdly flowery fic about a/phrodite, snzfucker and messfucker extraordinaire, looking after an ailing a/pollo. not actually this much snz in this one but don't worry, there Will Be More.
sunlight in the temple of aphrodite- aphrodite takes care of an ailing apollo and muses upon how undeniably beautiful he is while sick.
contains: mess, nonsexual nudity but definitely implied sexual thoughts from aphrodite, inducing someone while they sleep (consent established off-screen and pre-fic; further elaboration in tags).
Aphrodite’s palace upon Olympus is beautiful even by the standards of the heavens themselves. Of course, it could not be anything but beautiful, for Love herself resides within it. The palace is not too unlike her temples in Corinth and Kythira; the building is composed of carved white marble and gold, offset by seastone and burnished bronze. All manner of ever-blooming flora surround it, and birds of all varieties pay pilgrimage to her gardens. Doors and windows are covered only by sheets of sheer, gauzy fabric, further adorned by windchimes of seashells and uncut gemstones. 
The interior, of course, is full of that which Aphrodite treasures. Trinkets from her lovers, busts in her likeness, little perches for doves. Everything inside is bright, as if doused in perpetual sunlight, and it always smells of crocus and hyacinth. There is no place Aphrodite would rather resides with that which she adores.
Perhaps most adored of all, right now, is the fellow god resting upon her bosom. 
Her dearest songbird, Apollo, lies beside her with his head resting upon her chest and one muscular arm resting limp across her midsection. His knee just barely presses against the soft curve of her inner thigh. Sheets of fine silk and warm downy feathers has been strewn to either side of the bed, and its two occupants are entirely nude. The warm weather, along with Apollo’s fever, have made bedding unnecessary for now.
The poor thing has been resting for some time, albeit a bit fitfully. Artemis had practically dumped him at Aphrodite’s door, claiming she could no longer stand his whining and dramatics. And of course, Aphrodite had jumped on the opportunity to care for her ailing songbird. 
It had been no struggle at all to coax Apollo into bed for a much-needed nap, leaving Aphrodite free to admire his beauty. Golden afternoon light emphasizes the rich bronze tone of his skin. Well-trained muscles adorn his arms and back. Soft locks of hair the same color as sunlight spill over his shoulders and through Aphrodite’s fingers as she gently runs her fingernails over his scalp, again and again, soothing the poor thing whenever he shivers in his sleep. His entire body radiates sickly heat, and a deep flush colors his cheeks and nose. Oh, his poor, beautiful nose…
Aphrodite could admire Apollo’s nose all day. It is perfectly suited for his face, straight and elegant. A perfect balance of soft, androgynous beauty and sharp, knowing angles. Presently that lovely nose is red and raw at the nostrils, warmer than the rest of him where it presses, just barely, against Aphrodite’s clavicle. 
A dreadful cold has taken up residence inside that perfect nose. Apollo had been sniffling from the moment he arrived, and congestion altered the harmony of his voice when he spoke. He would frequently wipe at the appendage with a silk handkerchief. And, of course, he was sneezing. Quite frequently.
It is a melody that Aphrodite will simply never tire of hearing! Watching the swell of his defined chest and the sudden hazy, needy expression that would overtake his handsome face- it was a performance unmatched by anything the Muses or poets could create. Apollo’s sneezes always had the soft yet pronounced quality of a hymn, melodic and lovely and desperate in ways that made Aphrodite’s heart flutter. This is emphasized further by how shy the poor songbird is about being ill. It is unbecoming, he says, for a god of plagues to be brought low by his own element; for the sun to not shine as brightly, for notes to fall flat. 
Utter foolishness, Aphrodite thinks. There is nothing so beautiful and perfect as when Apollo gives in. 
“Nhhh…”
Aphrodite is torn from her musings by a soft, congested whimper from Apollo. He’s still asleep, but a crease has formed between his brows, and his nostrils flare and twitch. 
“Poor thing,” Aphrodite hums as she runs her fingers through his hair again, voice low and tender. “You must be so itchy.”
As if to agree, Apollo twists a bit in his sleep, instinctively rubbing the tip of his nose against Aphrodite’s bare collarbone. Sudden warmth races up and down her body, yet she remains perfectly still, save for the hand playing with Apollo’s sunny locks. 
“ihhh….hh!” A note of desperation accompanies the next whine. Apollo shifts again, and Aphrodite admires every new angle she witnesses. The faintest glimmer of wetness shines at the base of his nostrils, which crease and twitch once more. His lips, full and fever-warm, part just slightly as his breath hitches. 
Apollo’s whole face becomes a stage for unresolved nasal torment, and it is a beautiful performance.
Aphrodite knows she ought to leave Apollo be, but how can she, with such neediness and desperation literally laying atop her? The idea of letting this tickle crescendo naturally is indeed pleasant, but Aphrodite has never been one for patience. Apollo needs relief from that awful itch, and he certainly won’t find it without some help. 
She takes a piece of her own hair between her fingers and guides the end of it to Apollo’s beautiful, cold-ridden nose. Delicately, Aphrodite brushes her hair under Apollo’s nostrils. His nose immediately scrunches in response from even that faint brush, and Aphrodite has to hold back a fond chuckle. Apollo is typically the very picture of poise and elegance, and there is something quite wonderful about watching him come undone like this.
Aphrodite can see a drowsy trickle of snot beginning to leak from one reddened nostril. Her poor songbird must be so terribly congested and itchy…all the better to sneeze all that mess out, then. 
Again Aphrodite sweeps her hair beneath Apollo’s nostrils, this time with more speed and pressure. The god’s breath hitches, brow creasing and expression becoming hazy. The tickle is undoubtedly mounting even as he slumbers, but it will take more than just a tickle to draw it out completely. With traces of his snot making the ends of her hair clumped and stiff, Aphrodite gently traces the outline of one flaring nostril before slipping the strand in.
The reaction is instantaneous. Gorgeous, melodic hitches pour from Apollo with increased intensity as Aphrodite tickles the sensitive, inflamed lining of his nose. 
Normally he isn’t so easy to induce while ill, but his body is desperate to expel this irritant. Apollo’s shoulders quiver and his expression becomes almost pleading as Aphrodite tickles his nose. She swirls the strand of hair about until one particular pass makes his whines pitch upwards, and she focuses her attention there until Apollo finally erupts with a set of sneezes.
“Ihh’HHTSHhh’uue!” That perfect nose finally achieves relief. Startled into wakefulness, Apollo’s entire body moves with the sneeze, pressing against Aphrodite, head bowing forward gracefully. A generous amount of mess splatters across her breasts, and a heavy, gleaming cord of snot connects his nose with the strand of hair she had used to induce him. “-hhhah! Ahh-hhAH— HHIH-!”Another symphonic swell of hitching. Now conscious and fully surrendered to the sensation, Apollo’s head tips back a bit as he builds up, giving her a front-seat ticket to the performance. His gorgeous face crumples once more, every muscle and bit of breath giving into this undeniable urge. “IHHH’TSHH’hiew! hhh-hh’HIH’PSH’hue!”
More snot sprays across Aphrodite’s bare skin. Apollo coughs a bit, dazed and breathless in the aftermath of that dazzling display. Aphrodite herself feels a bit lightheaded, heart dancing in her chest and warmth stirring within her.
“Bless you, little songbird. My, what a lovely gift to wake up to, those gorgeous sneezes of yours,” Aphrodite praises, voice flush with genuine affection. She brings a single delicate finger to Apollo’s nose and wipes it beneath his leaking nostrils.
“Nhh…lovely for you, perhaps,” Apollo rasps, melodic voice thick with congestion. He winces a bit at the mess he’s made over Aphrodite, and moves to sit up- but she keeps an arm around his shoulders to dissuade him. 
“Here, let me…”
Aphrodite plucks a silk handkerchief from thin air and tenderly begins cleaning Apollo, starting with his sculpted chin and moving up over his lips until she finally starts wiping mess from his nose. He flushes red as if embarrassed, but they both know he secretly adores the attention and doting care. “How are you feeling, love?”
“Uh…uhh’TSHh’iew!” Apollo sneezes again in response, muffled into the folds of the handkerchief. He sniffles thickly on instinct, but it accomplishes nothing. “Unwell.”
Apollo must be feeling truly awful, if he’s settling on such low-syllable, non-evocative adjectives. Aphrodite coos in sympathy and folds the handkerchief over. “Poor thing…blow for me.”
There’s a beat of hesitation, but Apollo complies, blowing as gently as he can. It still creates a snotty gurgle that makes Aphrodite shiver, and she hums in appreciation as she wipes his nose in the aftermath of it. “Good, so good for me…” Apollo shivers in her arms, and Aphrodite knows it has nothing to do with his fever. “My dear, how does a hot bath sound? It will ease your congestion and soothe your muscles.”
Apollo looks up at Aphrodite, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed darkly. Despite his ailment, a small smile begins forming on his face. “A bath sounds lovely.” 
No further discussion is had before Aphrodite leads him to her bathing chambers- and though she forgets a robe, she is sure to grab a fresh handkerchief on the way. 
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