#being a writer is a plague sometimes

[whatisthisnonsense]

"mutants are poc analogy" "mutants are queer analogy" Listen, X-Men and as such mutants as a whole should really be disability representation, and I mean representation and not analougous to it they just occassionally also get to blast ice while having furniture not built for them, struggles with keeping their mind in the present, and constantly having people casually discuss sterilizing or euthanizing them and being considered either dangerous or simply incapable of understanding when they get mad about this. But nobody is ready for this conversation.

[shadowyspectre]

Me every time Tem pulls out a muse to traumatize my bois

[atlasofthestaars]

I can’t tell if your requests are open or not, so i’m sorry if they aren’t and just disregard this <3 Can I request ANYTHING with MK1 Bi-han, i’m down ASTRONOMICAL for him. if you want me to get specific something where he’s learning how to be affectionate and (ironically) less cold with you 😭 to me it seems like he’d be more of a physical touch/actions kind of person, even though that may be few and far between especially at first. also can i just say you’re the best mk writer i’ve seen ♥️

NOTE: They are! I just struggle with writing them sometimes, so I’m MUCH slower at making them than my New Era chapters, but they are!

<3 Thank you for requesting and being so lovely <3 Sorry for how long the wait was! I kinda treated this like a character study + my headcanons for the man.

Also I couldn’t tell if this was s/o or not so I just defaulted to crush?

The fic is set to be kinda ? told in his POV, but in second still. You’ll see! Also I kindaa got carried away at the end so maybe ??? a bit ooc. I just like writing people pining.

FOR YOU [SUB ZERO X READER]

Doing small things for others' convenience was not something Bi-Han was used to doing, nor was he known for doing these things.

“Get up.” Bi-Han stood over you, from where he had swept you and sent you tumbling to the floor. There were a few moments of silence as he watched you hesitate, staring up to him bewildered. Why were you confused? The command was simple enough. You stared at his hand, seeming lost in thought. He rolled his eyes.

How was this the person who could go toe to toe with him? 

“Are you deaf?” He asked you, his stare turning into an icy glare. 

Why did you look so lost? 

Sure, he had never helped you off the ground before, Bi-Han could give you that. The reasons behind this was simple, he was just simply tired of hearing his brothers nag him for leaving you on the floor. It’s not like he helped any others up during sparring. They were capable of getting up themselves, they did not need their grandmaster to coddle them. 

Just because he’s known you for a while, why should you be the exception?

Still, their complaints were tiring and bothersome, so he decided to try to help you up for once. Maybe that would settle their complaints. They were always pushing him to be a little less…icy. Plus, out of anyone, he supposed doing this for you would not be the worst. Sure, you tried to hang around him constantly, but your company wasn’t unpleasant he supposed.

Bi-Han growled as he watched you still lay on the ground, staring at his hand. With a huff, he lunged forward, grabbing your hand for himself. He was going to help you up one way or another, dammit. You were not going to be the person to deny his kindness. Hoisting you up, he was caught off guard as you collided with his chest. 

Did he hit you so hard during training that you were acting dumb all of a sudden?

With a grunt, he steadied you, holding you by your waist. His hands settled quite nicely there, and his hands instinctively squeezed. Your hands were on his chest, as you righted yourself properly. He sent you another glare, this one more instinctual than intentional. You seemed caught off guard, confused, and so many things all at once.

You were confusing.

What was even more confusing was the fact that his mind seemed to want to capture this moment, wanting to sear the memory of you being in his arms permanently in his head. His hands twitched, and his lips pursed at the thoughts that invaded his head. He pushed them away, shooing them away like annoying flies.

A grandmaster should not be plagued by such…odd thoughts.

He sighed as he let go of your waist once you seemed steady enough. You shot him that sunny grin of yours, and commented on how his heart was finally defrosting. It seemed that you finally had your senses back. In return, Sub Zero frowned as he crossed his arms. You always had a knack for trying to make puns out of his powers. Still, despite the disapproving looks he always sent you, you never stopped.

Bi-Han wasn’t sure to think of you as brave for not caring for his warning glares, or stupid for ignoring them. He was inclined to think of the latter. Would you so brazenly ignore a wolf staring you down with predatory eyes? And yet, a small voice in his head told him otherwise.

He didn’t quite like nor agree with the voice. Honestly, he didn’t even know what to make of the voice in the first place.

“Satisfactory job for today.” Bi-Han said, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction as you beamed at his words. You were always too eager to accept any positive words from him. You gave his shoulder a pat and scampered off, probably to eat since it was around dinner time now. 

He stood there for a bit longer, watching you disappear, and watching the place you last were before you turned the corner. He frowned as he realized he had been staring. How ridiculous, why had he been staring? With a grunt, he turned around and stalked off to his office.

He couldn’t get the feel of your hand out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

Bi-Han was not known for little acts of kindness.

“You need to eat.” Bi-Han scolded you, shoving a bowl full of food in your hands. Your fingers brushed, and he pursed his lips, not knowing what to make of the tingle it left on his skin. He’s been more oddly aware of his skin whenever he was around you lately, and he wasn’t quite sure why. 

He watched as that stupid confused look overcame your face again as you took it. It always happened whenever he did things like this, but never with anyone else. He felt a bit offended every time. It wasn’t as if he was incapable of kindness. It didn’t sit right with him the idea that you thought he was incapable of it. You looked at him, opening your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. 

“You didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” He mentioned, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Which it was. Anyone, if they were paying even a smidge of attention to you, would notice how you failed to eat this morning. It actually has been a few days since you’ve eaten breakfast, leading to you complaining and being famished by lunchtime. It had begun to bother him.

Was it just him who noticed these things about you? You even seemed surprised by the information he told you.

How foolish.

“Did you make this?” You asked, peering at the food as you prodded the rice congee with the spoon. Bi-Han nodded, and he felt a strange fluttery feeling in his chest as you took a bite and hummed in delight. You were too pleased by this simple cooking, this was a meal that a child was capable of making. He didn’t like how he craved more of your approval. “This is really good! Thanks Bi-Han!”

Your praise made him feel content. Much to his chagrin, Bi-Han felt his mind churn out some ideas. How would you react if he made you something special instead of this simple breakfast? Certainly you would be more impressed, why shouldn’t you be? His cooking was sufficient. Maybe you’d even praise him more.

Maybe he should make you some more food, sometime.

“You should be eating breakfast, it’s stupid to skip meals.” The cyromancer continued to berate you with a frown. He didn’t like the idea of you skipping meals, it felt…wrong. He watched as you, through a mouthful of food, tried to excuse yourself. He sent you a glare. “There are no excuses. Even a child knows not to skip a meal.” 

“But-”

“I just said no excuses.” Bi-Han said, shutting you down with a tone of finality. You sent him a sheepish look, one that told him that you were honestly, and truly sorry. You didn’t have any malice behind your actions, at least. He sighed, leaning forward to meet your gaze. “Just so you don’t go running around without at least some food in your stomach, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Really?” You said. You blinked in surprise, and he nodded. You smiled at him, and he closed his eyes, ignoring how his mind wanted to save that imagery. “I’d like that a lot Bi-Han, thank you.” He nodded, opening his eyes to send you a small glare as he ignored the flutter in his chest.

“You need to wake up earlier though, so you have time to eat.” 

“That’s worth it.”

Bi-Han was not known for letting others close to him. 

“Hold still!”

You swatted his shoulder, huffing as you glared at him. Your confidence around the grandmaster was almost astounding to the rest of the Lin Kuei. Not many would not even think of glaring at the man, let alone swat his shoulder in annoyance. And yet, here you were, doing just that. The oddest part of it all was that Bi-Han was letting you.

Well, more like tolerating you.

Your efforts were not without some push back from Bi-Han. You received your fair share of glares, huffs, and scoffs. And yet, you ignored all of those. The glares he sent your way were deflected, as if they were mere stares. His huffs and scoffs were like entertainment to you. He watched as your grin grew whenever he did these.

When did you stop fearing his intimidating presence? 

Did you ever fear him in the first place?

Bi-Han was left brooding as you tended to his wounds. He felt like a sheltered, pampered dog with a person who fussed far too much over him. His lips pulled into a frown as you pulled his arm into place, making sure to grip it tightly so he could not move and mess up your delicate work. 

“I’m trying to stay still.” Bi-Han grumbled, his voice sounded resigned as he let the arm you worked on go limp. He had learned well enough from your previous efforts that resistance was futile. You would probably chase him down to the ends of the earth to dress his wounds. The thought alone seemed ridiculous.

Then again, it was you. And he wasn’t sure when he stopped minding it when it was you. 

“Well, try harder!” You sassed, rolling your eyes. The grandmaster kept his eyes on yours, finding them more interesting than anything else in the room. No, he was not fawning over your eyes. Such a notion was unfounded. He simply didn’t think anything else was interesting.

That’s it. That’s all.

Your eyes were simply just more interesting than the same old training rooms he’s known since he could remember. Honestly, most things were. But your eyes were especially a standout. They held a certain quality to them. A warmth that could not be replicated, not even by his younger brother’s pyromancy. No, it was unique. Something he couldn’t quite place. 

Bi-Han felt his breath catch as your eyes, the ones he definitely did not find fascinating, met his own eyes. You certainly had to have some sort of magic within your blood. It was impossible that you didn’t in some capacity. After all, why would he be unable to look away if that wasn’t the case?

“What?” Bi-Han asked, his voice rumbling as he continued to look at those strange eyes of yours. He watched as they narrowed once again at him, like he did something wrong. He couldn’t have, though, all he did was stare at you. And you never once complained about it.

“Did you even hear what I said?” You nagged. Realization trickled in, and Bi-Han’s first instinct was to frown. He most certainly did not hear what you said. It wasn’t his fault though. He was far more focused on trying to figure out your eyes than to hear whatever you had been going on about.

Not that he disliked your voice. It was nowhere near ear splitting and headache inducing. He’d never admit it, but it was the complete opposite of that. And by complete opposite, he meant it was tolerable. Nothing more, nothing less.

Seriously. 

“No.” Bi-Han bluntly replied, knowing that you’d chew him out if he even bothered to lie. You seemed to read him better than he could read you. It was a bit frustrating. He wasn’t exactly an open book, yet you made him feel like one. Meanwhile, you were open with almost everything and almost everyone. So why could he not figure you out?

“I said you need to be more careful.” You repeated, an exhausted tone in your voice. He frowned, both at your insistence and your condition. Have you been skipping out on sleep again? After searching your face, he determined that no, you were just exhausted by him. 

“I am careful.” He retaliated, dropping his gaze to look down at his hands. They were clasped together as he hunched over. He detested the way his mind started to drift back to thoughts of you again. How would your hand fit in his? Were your hands soft and gentle? Or were they rough and calloused like his? Were they warm? Cold?

Why did he always think of you?

“Clearly, you’re not careful enough.” You nagged. For emphasis, you tightened the bandage you were wrapping around his bicep. He should not like the fact that you were concerned over him. He didn’t need you to be concerned over him. “Honestly, for being grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, I thought you’d be more careful.” You muttered.

Bi-Han sent a half hearted glare your way, being met with one of the same intensity. He couldn’t even muster up a retort to send your way. It was just because he knew you wouldn’t care whatever harsh comment he had. That’s it.

His mind fixated on the gentle way you smoothed out the bandages. Your fingers tracing over his muscles such care that was foreign to the cryomancer. It felt…domestic. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of a domestic life.

Since when did he crave for those kinds of things?

“Someday I might not be here to patch up your wounds.” You threatened, but both he and you knew it was a half hearted lie. You would always be there to bother Bi-Han. Whether it be to nag him, make stupid jokes, or just to…be there.

He’s grown soft, he realized, if he’s actually grown to tolerate you and your presence without too much thought. Looking back, the man realized that, he’s actually grown to be used to you being with him for a while now. This realization would have made the man angry or terrified long ago.

Now he was just…okay with it.

And so Bi-Han sat there, with the overwhelming realization that he’s grown to trust you.

Bi-Han was not known for being vulnerable.

The grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, as much as he would never admit it, is very much human. 

He had dreams. Dreams of ascending to higher things than just being a member of a clan that listened to a god to a drop of a hat. He had aspirations of growing stronger and better than he was now. He had flaws, much like any other person. He was ambitious to a fault and was too harsh and blunt, even to his own kin. 

But most of all, Bi-Han felt weaknesses.

It wasn’t often, but he sometimes thought of his parents.

Bi-Han’s relationship with his father was strained. To be the firstborn of a clan that was so revered meant he had a lot of expectations on him since he was born. He had to command respect without being harsh. He had to be confident, but not cocky. He had to give up who he was, or wanted to be, for the clan. Because Bi-han was now the clan’s life blood.

The cyromancer never asked for such a destiny. But who was he to deny a path to power since birth? He supposed it was only worthy of him, as he rose to the challenge when he knew many would crumble under the immense pressure. He alone withstood the harshness of his father’s teachings when others did not see that side of him.

No one else had to see the sheer disappointment in his father’s eyes everytime he did not live up to his expectations.

It was suffice to say his father expected much of him. Bi-Han, after all, was going to inherit a lot of power and responsibility. It was only fair. Still, bitterly, the cyromancer remembered how much easier his brothers’ expectations were. But it was fine. It was not as if they were trained to be the next grandmaster of a clan.

It was probably for the better, for now he was a man who could hold his own.

Still, sometimes he wished, deep down, that he had a father instead of a teacher.

Bi-Han’s relationship with his mother was better. Where his father surmounted a lot of pressure upon his son to forge him into a diamond, his mother took care and time to polish him. The man was ever thankful for and adored his mother.

When father had been harsh, she had always been there to provide guiding words to help quell his fears. She gave him compassion and kindness in his times of need. His mother had always been proud of him, even when he felt as if he fell short.

Bi-Han had been hit the hardest by his mother’s death.

Tonight was one of those nights where his weaknesses managed to snag their claws into him and tear at his chest. Lying down on his bed, he stared up towards the ceiling. It was dark in his room. He preferred it that way. But the cover of darkness did not help his mind as he looked into the inky black darkness. 

Though he did not feel the chill of his own powers, he knew that the temperature in his room was dropping quickly due to his lack of self control. He should have better control than this. The old man would despise this as much as he despised him.

He needed water. Water would help him get back into the right mindset.

Bi-Han trudged towards the kitchen, a layer of frost following in his wake. Thoughts of the parents he no longer had filled his mind as he went, trying to drag him down. Shards of ice born from his irritation grew on his forearms. 

Why were the dead haunting him so much?

It was irrational for him to allow them to have such a chokehold on his thoughts, even after all this time. The cyromancer owed them nothing. He had no need for them to whisper into his mind, telling him how he needed to be more than he was now. How Bi-Han was still not enough,

The knob on the kitchen grew icy as he gripped it. Fragile shards dropped as he turned, shattering like glass on the floor. His steps felt like molasses as he walked towards the sink. The glass he grabbed immediately grew cold, almost threatening to shatter in his hands.

He glared at the sink as it refused to relinquish the water he desperately needed. Bi-Han felt his frustration grow, and he clenched his fists. He trembled and shook from anger. He was the grandmaster, dammit! He should not be struggling with any of this.

The glass shattered in his hand.

“Bi-Han?” A voice rang out amongst the whispers in his head. He froze, the ice on his hands sticking to the sink like his father’s teachings stuck to him. Like a cornered animal, Sub Zero’s head whipped around and he glared instinctively at the intruder. 

It was you.

You stood in the doorway, eyes wide as you looked at the mess that was Bi-Han. He cringed inwardly, detesting how you saw him at his lowest. Slowly, you stepped into the room, looking at the shards of ice and the frost that had overtaken the room.

“Are you okay?” You asked, now in front of Bi-Han. Instead of the fear he had imagined in your eyes, you only showed concern. Slowly, you reached out a hand to cradle his now bleeding hand. You examined his hands, taking out the bandages you seemed to always carry for his sake and began to patch him just like you always did.

The words Bi-Han wanted to say caught in his throat as he stared at you. He was bewildered. Why were you not running? Why were you still here? It was illogical for you to be staying here when he was like…this. 

“I saw all the ice.” You said, your voice gentle and soft. It soothed the pain. It silenced the whispers in his head.  “I was worried for you.” You murmured, your gaze focused on his hand that you held so carefully, as if it would break if you breathed too hard.

Normally, he hated being treated lesser than he was. But he knew with you, that wasn’t the case here.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping but…” You said. You paused, uncertain over something. Then, slowly you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a warm gentle embrace. For a moment, Bi-Han stood there stiffly, not knowing what to do. This type of affection was lost to him.

Slowly, though, he wrapped his arms around you too. 

And he sobbed into your shoulder.

Bi-Han, most of all, was not known for being soft.

Standing outside in the garden, you stood by his side. You always seemed to find your way there. Bi-Han could not think of a better place he would rather you be. It only felt right that you were there, after everything you’ve been through with him.

The cyromancer glanced at you, letting out a breath as he saw the frost nip at your nose and cheeks making them flush. Bi-Han, in that moment, was jealous of the gentle snow and cold and how it brought the color to your cheeks.

It should be him. 

If he made a light snowstorm like the one surrounding you both, would you look at him with even a fraction of the admiration he held for you? If he made an ice sculpture dedicated for you, would you swoon for him and fall into his arms?

No, none of those felt right.

He watched silently with thinly veiled admiration as you spread out your arms, embracing the cold weather. A large smile pulled at your lips, and it also pulled at his heart. The joy on your face was nearly infectious, and he had to fight to keep his lips from quirking up. And yet, if you were to open your eyes and look over, you would see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

No person should have this amount of control over another over a damned smile, and yet here you were. You were able to make the icy grandmaster smile without lifting a finger. All you had to do was to have to smile. By the Netherrealm, you could just look at him at this point and his heart would be jumping for joy.

You had him wrapped around your finger, did you know that?

No. Of course not. You were too oblivious to his feelings. If you did, you would and should be trying to hug him, and not the snowflakes that surrounded the both of you. So instead, Bi-Han just admired your all too perfect face, trying to commit the sight to memory.

By the elder gods, he really wanted to kiss you.

“Isn’t the snowfall just wonderful?” You asked, peeking open an eye to look at him. Bi-Han, snapping out of his stupor, crossed his arms like he guarded his heart. He paused, trying to think of something, anything. 

What should he do? Should he try to flirt? No, knowing you, you’d probably laugh at his attempt and think he was trying to make a joke. That, and flirting wasn’t really his style anyways. That was something the arrogant actor would do, and he wanted you to fall for him, Bi-Han. Not Johnny Cage.

So instead he just nodded.

It seemed a sufficient enough answer for you. Your smile grew, and Bi-Han wondered for a moment if you were the embodiment of the sun. No, of course not. You were far more radiant than that stupid star, if anything, the universe should revolve around you.

His world already did, anyways.

“It’s nice to have something gentle for once, it’s usually a blizzard out here!” You exclaimed, and Bi-Han’s mind couldn’t help but to run in circles over your words. Did you prefer a gentleman? The ghost of a smile on his lips disappeared, replaced with his usual frown. 

He wasn’t exactly a shining definition of a gentleman.

“Aw, you stopped smiling.” You pointed out, and Bi-Han’s heart skipped a beat. So you weren’t as oblivious as you seemed. You noticed his smile, and even seemed to mourn the loss of it. Did you like it? If he were better at it, he’d smile just for you. His lips pursed, and he suddenly wishes he could smile on command. He’s never wanted that before.

Bi-Han’s eyes wander, and they look towards you hair and the snowflakes that decorate it. You looked absolutely ethereal. It was like the universe was trying to set him up for failure. How could the universe decorate you just so…perfectly?

“Man, I should have brought gloves.” You complain. You bring up your hands, which were trembling slightly from the cold. You exhaled into them before rubbing them together to try and bring back some warmth into your body.

“Here.” Bi-Han said, and his body worked faster than his mind as he grabbed your hands. For a moment, he was pleased with himself. Then, in the next, he felt foolish. His hands were probably cold, what was he thinking? He stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction to his impulsive actions.

At first, it was shock. Then, that melted away into something that felt…bashful? Bi-Han’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to engrave the look on your face into his brain. He never knew someone could look so breathtaking.

“Oh, thank you.” You said, your face becoming ever more flushed. The grandmaster’s heart swelled with pride and joy. He made you feel this way. Certainly that had to mean something, right? You bit your lip, and he couldn’t help but be entranced. How could someone have such kissable looking lips? “I…um…I need help with something else too…” You trailed off, swallowing as you nervously looked away.

“Hm?” Bi-han hummed, entranced by the usual shyness. He leaned ever closer, eyes searching your face. Whatever it is you wanted, he would give. 

“My lips are cold too.” You managed to mumble out, before giving him the most hopeful smile he’s ever seen. Bi-Han’s lips grew into a soft smile as his stomach did backflips. He leaned forward, until his lips hovered just a breath away from yours.

“I can help with that.”

Then, he gave you a kiss.

Bi-Han was not known for doing small things for others, nor for his kindness. He never was known for letting others in or for vulnerability. And most of all, he was not known for his softness.

And yet, he’d be all of that and more, if it was for you.

[nysus-temple]

Apollo & Dionysus [Part 1]

MAN. not sure if i know what i'm doing, they're very complicated and this won't be my only essay about them. But I've been delaying this essay for way too long, to a point in which I was close to crying about it.

Hope you enjoy, in any case, how i give you all the connections, both good and bad, of my favourite god figures from the Greek Folklore.

1. Karneia [Καρνεῖα].

One of Dionysus' main characteristics is how he's depicted with horns. It's part of his identity as a god, it's horns what (according to the Orphic hymns) made him look like Persephone's son. you can't take away his horns and pretend he's still Dionysus. Euripides knew that well.

Apollo, on the other hand, not many are aware that he sometimes was represented with horns, as well ! This festival, held mainly in Sparta, was to honor Apollo (and a couple of other gods but, he was the star of the show).

The reasons for why this festival was held vary; like Pausanias saying it was to calm him down so he wouldn't send a plague.

But, you see, the main reason this festival is mentioned here: the Spartans would stop any military activity to honor a horned Apollo, he resembled Dionysus during that time. And not only that, but he also was related with vines during it, and that's Dionysus sacred plant. Just like the laurel (or bay, i think it's called in English) is the sacred tree of Apollo.

Seeing Apollo with that plant, and harvesting grapes while having horns, has a strong conection to what Dionysus is.

2. Delphi's Oracle.

It's still Apollo's Oracle, wether Dionysus kept it while he was gone at Hyperborea or not. He killed Python, Gaia's big-ass snake, in order to get it.

But.

While Apollo had to leave during the winter time to go to Hyperborea, it was Dionysus OF ALL GODS the one who kept Delphi, and thus, his festivals were celebrated there.

On one side of the main temple, you could see Apollo with his twin sister, Artemis, and his mother, Leto.

And on the other side, it was Dionysus.

Dionysus wasn't related to prophecies, at all. Maenads did shenanigans during the time Apollo wasn't there.

But it's, you know... Interesting, that Apollo's most important oracle was kept by Dionysus during the time that he wasn't there.

With this, you should think "then, they're in good terms, right?" Yeah, well, they're supposed to be, there's nothing stating that they have a bad relationship, it's the other way around, actually !

But the next point... Is gonna leave us all confused.

3. Orpheus.

Or, as i like to call it:

And my favourite part of this essay, gotta say !

Orpheus brought many cults to the Greeks, according to Pausanias. Like the Eleusinian Demeter one, for example. And not to forget, Orphism gets his name from him, as well as the Orphic Hymns, obviously.

But, apparently, besides doing all that, at the end of his life, he claimed to not care about any gods, not even Dionysus, the main figure of Orphism, that weren't Apollo.

And his death was explained in a lost play of Aeschylus, one that two different writers describe; Eratosthenes and Pausanias, so pick your favourite:

P: 1. the maeneads saw Orpheus refusing to worship Dionysus, and killed him.

E: 2. Or, the interesting one: Dionysus saw that Orpheus devoted himself to Apollo and Apollo only, and got... Jealous. Jealous of his devotion to Apollo.

He was the one who started Orphism, the one who wrote many hymns for him. Seeing him being devoted to someone else than him apparently wasn't a good move. In this version he sent the maeneads to kill him, they didn't go for their own will, which makes it more peculiar.

I'm not writting down Ovid's version because it doesn't fucking count.

Plato also says some odd thingy, that "the gods imposed on Orpheus the punishment of dying at the hands of women for not having had the courage to die for love like Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, who had died in the place of her husband Admetus." ... Which, yeah, sure, I guess, whatever you say, buddy. We have to keep in mind Plato's texts are more related to philosophy than anything.

People always say it's Apollo the one who was envious of Dionysus' talents and parties, (for... some reason i guess) specially knowing how he had two of his muses related to him (tragedy and comedy) due to Dionysus being, after all, the god of theatre.

But, surprise ! It was the other way around. Dionysus was jealous of Orpheus' devotion to Apollo. "If you won't devote yourself to me, you won't devote yourself to anyone".

And, well, either because the sources didn't survive or because he wasn't considered his son in these versions, Apollo didn't do anything. In fact, we never see him doing anything towards Dionysus.

So, what now, Nysus? What was their relationship exactly, after all of this?

It's... Complicated !! Okay !!! This needs more research from my part, plus we all should keep in mind that, while all the authors mentioned here were Greek, they were different guys. You always need to keep in mind the place, person, era... All of that, before starting to judge how a dynamic between two gods work.

( If you enjoy my badly-written posts, please consider buying me a kofi ! You're not forced to, though, but please, reblog this post at least if you are gonna leave a like ! 💕 That's what will motivate me to keep working on my essays )

[count-lucio]

lucio headcanons because i can't help myself. just a warning that these are rather canon divergent, so keep that in mind while reading! anyway, with no further ado-

my objectively correct lucio 'headcanons' (i am normal)

- he has chronic nerve pain from the constant pain + stress his body was under while he had the plague - even after he comes back. he walks with a cane most days, and claims it's for 'fashion' (it very clearly isn't)

- the whole "missing an entire arm" business is a MUCH bigger deal than the way the game shows it- it's a genuine disability, not just a fun character trait. i'm begging you all to consider lucio needing (and wanting) to spend time with his prosthetic off. lucio phantom limb syndrome and phantom pains. lucio struggling to do things that require both hands on occasion and having to relearn everything after getting his prosthetic. lucio being too rough/too strong/etc with his left arm because he can't feel what he's doing. as much as he loves the gold he can't help but feel terribly insecure and incapable because of it sometimes.

- lucio is not even a tenth as stupid as the writers make him out to be for funny haha villain points. he's actually incredibly intelligent and a big fan of studying + reading "just because." he's very literate and articulate, just overexcitable (and maybe slightly over-emotional) and doesn't always express his intelligence in the best way (or stop and think before doing things). he's also fairly talented, and rather proficient in writing and playing piano - the grand piano in the foyer belongs to both him and nadia!!

- same thing goes for what an incompetent leader he's portrayed to be in the game... it's absolutely nonsensical that he alone was in charge of vesuvia for multiple years and that entire time knew nothing and learned nothing about being an effective ruler. perhaps he's not the most responsible leader at all moments and maaaybe he can be a bit. harsh. but i can't see military-tactical, hand-selected-to-rule-vesuvia-lucio being an INCOMPETENT leader.

- also, the previous count, count spada, took lucio in and taught him everything he knew - the game hardly touches on this and it's an absolute crime because i think the two of them had such a close (dare i say father-son) relationship and spada effectively took lucio under his wing and gave him the necessary training to be an effective leader before naming him his heir. the two of them were very... my parents hate me and i don't know what parental love feels like x i never married or had children and i regret it immensely, yknow ?

- his relationship with morga is much more strained than what's portrayed in canon - both her and his father were rather abusive throughout his childhood and he hides in the palace every time she visits vesuvia and makes nadia deal with her for him (i use 'makes' loosely - nadia would do it even if lucio didn't ask. she's not very fond of morga either and is sympathetic to lucio's fear of her).

- speaking of nadia, the two of them really don't hate eachother all that much. their relationship is much more complicated than what's shown in the game (everyone's is, really, it's all a lot more blurry and queerplatonic than what was written to make it work as a romance game) and while they most definitely butt heads quite often, she by no means hates him and they do, actually, get along a fair amount of the time. they have quite a bit in common and work well together. most of the time.

- contrary to popular belief, mercedes and melchior are not unruly and untrained- they're both trained impeccably, just in lucio's native language, making him the only person capable of controlling them. however when it is him in charge, the three of them are a force to be reckoned with (especially when out hunting) and mercedes and melchior move flawlessly alongside him, nearly predicting what he wants without him even having to speak it aloud. they're impeccably behaved- just for him and him alone.

- on the topic of languages- lucio was raised speaking something different than what is spoken throughout the game. there is no direct real-world equivalent but it's... scandinavian in nature. he has the faintest hint of an accent (and no, it isn't a jersey accent) but he's been speaking other languages for so long it's not quite as noticeable as it was during his mercenary days - although it is quite a bit more noticeable when he's drunk, and he's very prone to cursing in his native language.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today. 

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce. 

But you aren't, and you should know better. 

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance. 

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself. 

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast. 

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him. 

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time. 

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!! 

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process. 

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

_____

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?” “Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

I've been updating daily, however I've noticed the quality is not quite good sometimes (today, for example), so I'll be taking longer to update, maybe once a week/2 weeks or so, I'm sorry for this, but I wish to write something of good quality

Chapter 6 < > Chapter 8

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

Fingers ghosting over the spines of the books, you're surprised to see so many titles familiar to you, from Lord of the Rings, Jurassic Park, all the way to Jane Austen books, some of them more worn than the others, a small smile creeping up your face at the thought of knowing just who read these books so many times.

A new question —added to the many that’ve appeared since you accepted you’re in some other reality— popped on your mind, if so many things in their world are similar to yours; people, social functions, historical events, what was so different that led yours not having superheroes and vigilantes? There’s no Gotham, no Metropolis, no Star City, nothing.

Did this mean they simply do not exist, or they just didn’t want to make themselves known? Here, everything started with Superman. If he existed in your reality, what made him not want to help people? Had he been captured by the government instead of the Kents? Had his ship landed someplace else? Are there other planets out there?

So many questions, so many possibilities, not a single answer.

The book authors are the same as your world; Tolkien, Crichton, Austen… Not just a coincidence in people here writing books with the same title, so it begs the question of a point you mentioned last night.

Does this mean there's another version of yourself in this world? Is there a different version of them in yours?

“You alright?”

It didn’t matter how many times you would hear that voice, it will always send shivers down your body, making your heart skip a beat. Turning around towards the voice, the early morning light deluged him in a pink-golden light, water droplets falling to the floor, he was only dressed in black pants and a tight black shirt that didn’t seem comfortable, his muscly arms threatening to rip it apart.

His unnaturally vibrant green eyes were more focused on the book you were holding —Little Women— rather than your face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied, putting the well-loved copy of the book back in the shelf. “What about you?”

“Yeah, same.” He sat down on the couch, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. “Hard to do so when you learn your whole life is a lie… Just ink on paper.”

“I don’t think it is.” With long strides, you sat down next to him, an ample space left between you two. “The fact that you’re here with me discussing about this mess should mean that you’re more than just a puppet created to entertain. You’re a human being, with feelings, thoughts, ideas… Who knows, maybe someone from your world came to mine and wrote your life story.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, of course. If you were simply the mere product of a writer, how could I be here, when I’m not?” This whole time he’d been looking at the floor, lost in his mind, finally turning to look you in the eyes. “I’m as lost in this as you are, but the one thing I’m certain, is that you’re real, Jason. As real as the moon and the stars.”

It was immensely evident something continued plaguing his mind, his eyebrows drawn and eyes unfocused, you knew how lost he must feel like, having felt the same just the night before, but whatever conclusion he came to, his face searched yours once again, a tired, tight smile on his face.

----

Breakfast had been a chaotic affair, having to explain to the rest of the family present in the house what endured after you woke up in the cave, Tim and Cass having long gone to sleep after they were sure you were safe.

“So, we’re not real?”

“You are, just not in my world. At least not like this.” Your meal had long gotten cold, being bombarded with questions that left you no time to take a bite. “There are no vigilantes there. Also, I’m sorry, Tim.”

“What for?”

“I thought you were delusional.”

Everyone in the table laughed, with Tim throwing you a harmless glower, even Alfred coughing to hide his smile.

“This is intriguing.”

You nodded at Cass’ response, at last grabbing your fork to eat your cold scrambled eggs, attempting not to make faces at the taste.

“So…” Tim spoke once again after refiling his cup of coffee for the third time. “Everything that we’ve suffered, is all just because someone wrote it?”

All eyes were laid on you, your face pale and mouth dry suddenly.

You couldn’t say no, because you still didn’t know how this worked, and you didn’t think you’ll ever find out, was your world shaping theirs, or was it theirs shaping the stories you were shown?

But you also didn’t want to say yes, because that would mean…

Unconsciously, your eyes wandered over to Jason, eyes locking for a second, his neutral demeanor changing into a raised eyebrow.

“Why did I die?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Cass raised a brow as well, her words clipped. “You’re lying.”

It was way better when you still thought they were just crazy, with no interrogations to interrupt your breakfast.

“There… There was a poll.” Avoiding everyone’s faces, you spoke to the table, voice as small as possible, however, with them being the detectives they were, they still could make out your words, if the gasps were any indication.

“A poll?” Jason reiterated, outraged. When you looked up, green eyes filled with hate was the only thing you could focus on. “A poll to decide my fate? A fucking poll?”

“I—Jason, they—”

“They what? Why would they do something like this!?” His eyes were glowing, hands closing into fists. “I was fifteen! Why would you do this? Who the fuck would think of killing a teenager!?”

“Wh—Me!?” You stood up, chair dragging behind you. “Jason, I wasn’t even born when that happened! And—and from what I read; they didn’t even think they’d do it.”

“Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Tears were prickling your eyes, mouth left hanging open. He had every right to be angry, everyone would, however the hate directed to you was unwarranted. The rest of them were looking at you, faces unreadable, except Dick’s, his eyes red, but whether it was for the current situation or remembering Jason’s murder, you didn’t know, maybe it was both.

It was clear none would come to your rescue, too disgruntled and sorrowful on Jason’s behalf.

“What do you mean you weren’t even born?” Tim asked, his investigative soul winning against his feelings. Or maybe this was his way to deal with the pain. “You’re Jason’s age, you were fourteen.”

Sniffing, you cleared your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. “I don’t know how time works here. That happened in the… The eighties, I think. I was born in the 2000’s.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He mumbled. “The years…” And without another word, he left the kitchen, quickly followed by Jason, although taking another path.

“Jason, wait.”

But your words fell on deaf ears. You hadn’t known Jason for a day, and he already hated you.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing for everything you’d done and everything you didn’t, you walked out the kitchen as well, not a clear destination in mind.

[sp-by-april]

#smut-a-thon

The feral thoughts that plague my mind is Kyle or Stan having a popular bimbo gf that everyone wants but can’t have. Although her bf is very jealous they’re not controlling, having to suffer and enjoy her little slutty outfits. Pulling her short skirts down when they hike up, covering her bare stomach with their big hands, towering and basically covering her from anyone. She’s really pretty and flirty but so loyal to her man, she lets him breed her all he wants. They both know she’ll make a pretty mom with cute babies anyway.🧎🏻‍♀️

Ok so I picked Stan's POV because I've never done a Stan POV and tonight is about doing stuff that's fun, horny, and different so uhh.. I hope it turned out okay? Broke my writer's block at least, so thank you! 💖😅

POV!Stan x F!Reader

[Tell me what makes you FERAL] [Stan Marsh Master List]

I love my girlfriend, but she has these little games. She likes to see what she can get away with.

She’s hot. Not hot in the way that guys pretend their basic, conventionally attractive girlfriends are just because their bodies are fine and their faces look good with enough make-up... She’s genuinely porn-star, turning heads, almost every guy’s fantasy (even if they won’t admit it) hot. And she fucking knows it.

She’s always dressed revealing or whatever but I swear, she saw me get jealous of dudes always looking at her and really upped the ante. Her tops got tighter and tighter, her skirts got shorter and shorter. She has this pair of faded jean shorts she loves to wear with a matching jacket and her ass totally hangs out of it. I've tried to pull it down the whole world can't see her on display, but it's pointless.

I don’t tell her what to wear, but I feel like I’m constantly fixing her clothes or covering her up so other guys can’t see too much. We were at Tolkien’s annual summer pool party and she wore basically nothing. When I questioned her about it, she huffed and said it was a "micro bikini”. She looked like a fucking stripper.

Luckily, she’s really, really tiny, so I can pretty much cover her stomach with my hand when she’s wearing crop tops and shit, but with that bikini… I felt like I was on patrol all night.

It’s even worse when she decides to be a huge fucking flirt. She’ll get suggestive, touch guys’ arms, bat her lashes, the whole nine yards. Every single dude just fucking eats it up. The way I’ve seen them eating out the palm of her hand? She could be a cult leader if she wanted.

I have to be careful because people see this guy being protective of his petite, attractive girlfriend, and think I’m being controlling and toxic or whatever, but it’s the opposite. She has all the control. She has the power. She knows it, too.

Except when we fuck. Then she’s begging me to breed her.

I love knowing that I’m the one that gets to fuck her while every other dude just has to fantasize and accept it. She goes so fucking wild, sometimes it’s like she’s starving for me.  She said I make her want to make all the bad decisions. Including letting me fill her up completely unprotected. She's completely mine to use. Trust me, she's even hotter when she's naked and begging for it.

“Please, Stan?”

“I need it, Stan,”

“Stan, pretty please, breed me,”

Then it’s my turn to play games. I’ll tell her about all the slutty shit she did and ask if she’s really been a good girl or not. That it’s something she has to earn. You should see how she writhes underneath me in desperation, panicking at the very idea that I won’t fucking come in her.

Maybe if she didn’t feel so good, I wouldn’t, but I always do. I’ve had my share of girls and nothing, nobody comes close. She’s the softest, the warmest, the wettest. On top of it, her body is so responsive to every little touch, it’s like driving a fucking Ferrari. She gets so tight when she comes, I can barely keep it together.

I don’t think I could stop myself from coming inside of her if I wanted to. I love knowing that I’m the only guy who gets to see her all fucked out, drooling and dripping with my cum.

My cock’s twitching just thinking about it.

Guess I’m lucky that I know a hot girl that I’m gonna turn into a hot mom pretty soon. Then the other dudes are really gonna be jealous.

[incomingalbatross]

So Your Fave is OOC: A Brief Guide to the Condition

(Note: this list is intended for cases of OOC Protagonists specifically. Please contact the publishers at Faves Diagnosis Ltd. for information on other character types.)

Infantilization Also known as woobification in the classic manuals, this variety has plagued faves for decades, and is particularly insidious among intellectuals, younger protagonists (relative to the rest of the cast), and those perceived as having repressed inner lives. Do you know your fave as a stubborn, determined character with a temper and a brain and some personality flaws? Have all of those traits disappeared in favor of endless tears, martyr syndrome, and a general air of helpless pureness and fragility? We may be looking at infantilization.

Villains are Cool A condition particularly widespread in faves native to moral, plot-heavy, or thematically-complex stories. If your fave is a person deeply dedicated to the heroic side in their canon, but you suddenly find them rejecting that side outright as inherently corrupt and instead celebrating the antiheroes or even villains as misunderstood victims, this may be the diagnosis you've been looking for. May coexist with Author's Mouthpiece (see below), but this is a difficult and risky diagnosis.

Author's Mouthpiece There is ongoing debate in the diagnostic community as to whether this should be defined as a single condition, though tending to be comorbid with other varieties, or whether it should be established as an umbrella category which encompasses several more specific conditions. In this pamphlet, we define it by itself first, before describing related conditions. This condition directly replaces your fave's opinions and beliefs with those of their current writer's, with varying but often severe results.

Secretly Judging You This afflicts faves with the secret power, unrevealed in canon, of having been right about everything all along—and bitter about it. Likely to appear in bashfic and fics labeled "fix-its." Is your fave suddenly condemning people, concepts, or ideals to which they are canonically loyal? Are they taking pains to explain why every flawed or questionable action they took in canon was actually correct, while revealing their scorn and contempt for the flaws of their friends (or even claiming they never really were friends)? They may have been afflicted with this unpleasant condition, often considered a variant of, or comorbid with, Author's Mouthpiece.

Has Read the Canon A variety particularly widespread in fix-its and AUs, which gifts the protagonist with a magical ability to know exactly what the right decisions are at any point in their canon, even when they have no in-universe basis for their choices. Another symptom includes mentioning canon plot points as hypotheticals and then sneering at them as being absurd. It cannot be proved that these protagonists were given a summary of their original canon before beginning to live out their AU, but evidence strongly suggests that. Also considered an offshoot of Author's Mouthpiece, although there is some debate as to just how far the overlap goes.

Snarky McQuip An attitude change, sometimes manifesting as general scorn for the other characters and/or story (see also: Secretly Judging You), and sometimes as an air of flippancy and emotional distance from the events of their own canon. Has been identified as a symptom of Has Read the Canon, with which it often coincides, but the argument that it is a tonal manifestation of Author's Mouthpiece (reflecting the author's emotional distance) has been found more convincing in recent years. May also be an outside contagion from the MCU and related environments, mutated bathos from Whedon canons, or the proliferation of dissatisfied fan cultures.

They Would not Have the Emotional Intelligence to Say That A more superficial change than many listed here. In which a characters' feelings and beliefs may remain unchanged, but they suddenly acquire the ability to state them in direct and impersonal language. If their mental blocks have disappeared, they suddenly have the vocabulary of a therapy book, and all personal idiosyncrasies have been flattened out of their approach to communication, you may be looking at this condition. Again, it is less deep-seated than most! However, we understand it can still be deeply disconcerting to encounter in your fave unexpectedly.

[avelera]

Oh GOD you, too, are an online lectures geek pls consider this your invitation to talk about favs--ones that stuck with you, current obsessions--the more the better! In trade, I'll tell you the two things I'm currently adoring: Yale's Open Course podcast on The Civil War to Reconstruction done by David Blight (man forgot more than ten other civil war historians know even if he mumbles *constantly*) and A History of Christianity by Diarmaid MacCulloch (so! worth the Prime BBC free trial <3)

Hiya! Don't mind if I do!

So 99% of the lectures I've watched lately are on the Great Courses Plus which was recently and stupidly renamed "Wondrium", which I find profoundly stupid because instead of just saying, "Hey, check out the Great Courses, yeah you can kinda guess what the streaming service offers," I have to instead explain what this nonsense term "Wondrium" means, ANYWAY, they've got lectures about basically everything.

Essentially, it's Netflix but for college lectures. YouTube has become so unreliable as far as what's actual information and what's completely made up or even racist conspiracy theory BS that I find it completely untrustworthy. Also, most documentaries are trying to prove something new, or offer a new angle on something, OR they're SO rudimentary and 101 that even for topics I know less about in history I tend to already know everything they're going to say.

So I pivoted to college lectures because 1) it's a whole series so like, dozens of hours I can just throw on in the background while doing something mindless and 2) I know it's going to be trustworthy, reliable, and provide me a baseline on a topic instead of some "new controversial spin" on it. Like, goddammit, sometimes I just want to better understand the history of Ancient Egypt, not your stupid theory about how they were secretly all space aliens or that we've got the carbon dating all wrong or whatever made up nonsense.

So, here's a list of some of my favorites!

Hannibal: The Military Genius Who Almost Conquered Rome - I consider myself about as near an expert as a non-academic can get on Rome and this lecture actually taught me some things, which is rare, so I recommend it as a fantastic deep dive!

How the Crusades Changed History is a pretty good short version that I recommend to anyone who enjoyed The Old Guard's Nicky and Joe BUT, for the best Crusades lecture, I'd recommend this History of the Crusades podcast. Sharyn Eastaugh is not just insanely informative, but her dry wit made me laugh out loud at least once an episode at the sheer hapless ineptitude of the Crusaders.

In the Wake of the Plague is a fantastic new lecture by Wondrium, the lecturer is amazing and it provides a lot of objective insights into how humans react to plagues that is VERY relevant to current events, BUT their lecture on **The Black Death in general is the one that got me obsessed with their lecture series. I watched it in the first week of Covid lockdown and let me tell you, having this super in-depth, objective look into how people behaved during the Black Death was incredibly valuable (and chilling) going into those years because it all played out with astonishing similarity. Also, anything by that lecturer, Dorsey Armstrong, is awesome. She's a Medievalist of the highest order. I also recommend her lecture on King Arthur.

**The Birth of the Modern Mind: The Intellectual History of the 17th and 18th Centuries - this one wins the award for "Lecture I thought most likely to bore me to tears that ended up being the single most fascinating I've heard in YEARS." Seriously, the way it explores the evolution of how we think in the modern era, through the philosophers who first conceived of these ideas, was jaw-droppingly fascinating. I also recommend it to writers of historical fiction and fantasy for a crash course, by proxy, of how to write people who think differently than you.

The Other Side of History: Daily Life in the Ancient World - I once had beef with a post here on Tumblr that claimed that academic Classicists don't care about slaves or normal people during the Roman Empire, which is just profoundly absurd. I pointed out this lecture to them if they actually wanted to learn more about the subject instead of complaining that an art history professor may not have been prepped for a lecture about the lives of enslaved people in Ancient Rome. If that is a subject of interest, this lecture is great.

The Real History of Pirates - a must-listen for OFMD fans who want to get an introduction to historical pirates and the history of pirates in literature, which "Our Flag Means Death" owes as much if not more to than the historical figures.

**Turning Points in Middle Eastern History - One of the first lectures I listened to and still one of my enduring favorites. It's the first one I picked up for writing my Old Guard fic, Lights Out, when I wanted to write Joe from a more informed angle and I learned so much.

Understanding Japan: A Cultural History - One of my favorite lectures based on format, the lecturer picks a literary work or cultural concept as the entry point to explore the timeline of Japanese history. It's a fantastic way to give a wider and more holistic look at each era, pairing it with a cultural touchstone.

Shout-out to "The Mysterious Etruscans" because I just think they're neat. The lecturer is also very good and I highly recommend his lecture on ancient cities as well which taught me a lot that I didn't know.

Also a shout out to, "Warriors, Queens, and Intellectuals: 36 Great Women before 1400" for its subject and the lecturer who is great and she also has a really fascinating talk about the history of Spain.

Ok, I THINK that's some of the top ones! ;D

[recentadultburnout]

Info for writer in Thai series fandom: More language thingy

Swear words and metaphor

*Some words may have more meaning than what I mention.

ไอ้ Ai and อี ee = words to be added in front of other words (a name or swear word), showing contempt or closeness (in a rude way).

Ai is masculine and ee is feminine, but nobody actually cares at this point.

เหี้ย hia or เชี่ย shia = Varanus salvator

These two words are the same. Hia is an original, and shia is a word that is born from distorting the voice in order to reduce vulgarity. It's kind of like referring to an f-word with any other word starting with f. We also used many other words that mean "Varanus salvator" as a sensor version of the "hia" swear word. little crocodile or chicken eater, for example.

They can also be used to empathize by adding to the end one or two times, for example, "super cool" would be "cool hia hia".

Tbh, whenever I read in English and see the word "hia," I always think of this word before a word that means "older brother." And to make it worse, the placement of both of them in the sentence can be exactly the same. Sometimes it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize the writer intended it to be an older brother.

สารเลว saraleo = miscreant, bastard, swinish, vile, caitiff, rascally

If you are 2gether fan, this is the word Tine calls Sarawat.

There are many similar words, such as

rayam-ระยำ-wicked, disgusting, inauspicious

chanrai-จัญไร-vile, unfortunate, ruined, crush

chatchua-ชาติชั่ว-lowlife

เสือก sueak = to meddle in matters that are not their own; to meddle in other people's affairs

ห่า har = infectious disease (cholera), pestilential disease (plague), and the evil spirit responsible for disease epidemics. 

สัตว์ sus =animal

พ่อง pong=your father

แม่ง maeng =your mother

They are shorten from por(father)/mae(mother) mung(you)

ดอกทอง dok thong=whore

This word sounds like a golden flower, but it's just a coincidence as far as I know.

ส้นตีน son teen=heel=lowest point of your body

ควย kyua=cock

หี hee=vagina

สันดาน san dan=in-born traits

as in bad inborn traits. The "bad" is omitted on the assumption that everyone understands.

ตอแหล tor lear=liar, fake

-->sato (สตอ-Crudia chrysantha Schum)-->strawberry

เปรต pret=The hungry ghost, frequently described as a very tall monster with a needle-sized mouth. = tall(negative meaning) or a bad person

อ้อย oi=suger cane=อ่อย oi=attempt to entice something or someone to be caught (typically used by a woman seducing a man).

For example, a cane truck has overturned here.=Someone here is trying really hard to seduce someone.

งิ้ว ngiw=bombax anceps (thorn-covered tree)

In the story, when sinners go to hell, the adulterer must climb this tree naked.

Mark from Love Mechanics asks on Facebook how hurtful it would be to climb a ngiw tree after having sex with Vee, implying that he is at least interested in someone who is not single.

Gold fish=short memory

Tiger=flirtatious person who is good at getting who they want (typically a guy)

A tiger with faded stripes=old tiger=someone who used to be flirtatious but is no longer. 

Dog can be alot of things depent on the context but usually a bad things.

"Dog with a rotten head" means someone nobody wants to get close to or interact with.

If someone looks just like a dog, that means their current state is bad. Too drunk = like a dog. Crying too much = like a dog.

Giving someone dog food means making someone, usually your friends, a dog. Used when you complain about your love life to someone, ask them for advice and they tell you to leave your current partner since the partner is being awful to you, you say so! Then you turn around and reconcile with your partner. So now your friend is a bad guy whom your partner won't want you to associate with anymore because they incite you to be at odd witn your partner.

Temple's dog = low status, usually used for a low-status man who likes a high-status woman who would be called ดอกฟ้า(dokfha) which translates directly to "sky flower." Use something like, "You are a temple's dog yet want to pluck a sky flower, you should know your place!"

A dog that serves someone means someone who only cares about serving their boss (who is a bad person) and nothing else, like morals or other people. A lackey

Bird(quite a new slang) = Can't get what you want, typically means someone you want as a lover.

Phonix = immortal bird = repeatedly failing to get what you want *We do use phonix as a poetic expression too, not just for this meaning.

Buffalo = idiot/fool. 

You can say A is putting horns on B when A is cheating on B; this means A makes B an idiot for believing in A.

When you fail your exam, you might say that these days you eat grass instead of rice (like a buffalo).

There is a saying that goes like this: "One who remembers when they get hurt (and leaves or does something to not get hurt again) is a human; one who is willing to endure it is a buffalo." If you put up with something you shouldn't, you are a buffalo.

Pig

fat

weak/easy to win against

Fox

Cunning

Sedusing

catfish,termite=ugly

rhinoceros=Someone who tries to steal someone else's lover or just acts inappropriately in general according to the traditional feminine standard. Originally, it was only used to call women, but it is no longer the case.

barking deer=gay man

gibbon=woman

It was originally used by trans women to refer to cis women. can be seen as rude, but like many other words, many people don't actually take offense if it is used playfully. These two words, "barking deer" and "gibbon," are usually used together.

The reason why a character does not always know information stated in the subtitle

Gender of someone

The Thai language, for the most part, is gender-neutral. The she or he in the English subtitle usually has to be chosen by the translator.

Who/what the speaker is talking to/about

Many times, sentence structures in spoken language won't require a subject or object. I guess when that gets translated, it looks weird, so the translator has to pick something to add in. In a lot of situations where I am not sure how to address my interlocutor, I can simply avoid doing it, but when I'm writing in English like this, I have to pick something, right?

When

There are no tenses in Thai the way there are in English. We have words for determining whether something happened in the past, present, or future, but you can say something without using any of those and it will be just fine.

Rice

When someone asks if someone has eaten rice(ข้าว-khao) yet, the word rice usually means meal/food and not strictly rice. The word rice can mean food in general a lot of the time.

Polite words

There are a lot of words that mean the exact same thing but have a different degree of politeness. You may already have noticed it with the way there are so many words that mean you or I. You may also notice it when you watch alot of any Thai series. Like, how when a character says "eat" in the subtitle, there are some varied sounds, such as daek(แดก-rude), kin(กิน-common), than(ทาน-a bit more polite-shorten from rapprathan), rapprathan(รับประทาน-polite).

Meaning of polysyllabic words

Some polysyllabic words, when each syllable is separated, still have a meaning, but their meaning may not be consistent with the meaning of that polysyllabic word. So even when you recognize the meaning of each syllable, the meaning of the polysyllabic word you deduce from it may not be correct. I mean, if we look deeper, we should be able to make it make sense, but yeah.

For example, the word "witch" in Thai is mae mod(แม่มด). Mae means mother or something you can used to indicate that a word it is in refers to a woman and Mod means ant when it's a separate word, but when combined, they mean witch. Or for the word whose meaning is more similar to the words used to create it, the word khun nhu(คุณหนู), which means "young master/mistress." used for address the child of the boss, when sperate khun is a prefix to show politeness or respect, and nhu means mice or a word used for calling children. You can see that while some of the single-syllabic words are arguably related to the meaning of the polysyllabic word, some aint so much.

I hope this explanation doesn't make you more confused.😅 But if it is, do tell me. I will try to do better.

Thai alphabet

Our letters are named after words they used to spell. Like, both letters ญ and ย sound the same(yor), but the word woman (หญิง-ying) uses letter ญ and the word giant (ยักษ์-yak) uses letter ย, so letter ญ is named yor ying and letter ย is named yor yak.

Think of it like if A's full name is "A apple".

Index

[simpingforstardew]

muse

pairing: sdv elliot x reader

synopsis: elliot is struggling with severe writers block; if only he had a muse...

note: a while ago i talked about having a derivative idea for an elliot x reader fic; here is that fic !! the premise is completely unoriginal, but i'll leave the references at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers hehe

warnings: i don't even know for this one gang, wholesome w/ an ending that could be read as spooky? let's call it a doomed romance !! tw/ relationships that are doomed by the narrative !!

word count: 1.5k

Adronitis

A heart so damaged; tender; sore—

You ever-blooming sycamore,

Through hunger pangs; my deliriousness,

I mourn my mortal catoptric tristesse.

With starving dreams, your warmth I crave—

I worship you, I must embrave,

Indulge me, lay your fear ahind.

Our sanctuary; your piece of mind.

My amorous famine demands more […more what?],

So I feast on your smile […] petrichor.

i am just writing this right niw so it

looks lije i am being pro ductive oh Yoba

andnow leahs comin g over this

is alll shit im jist going to star t overrr

“How’s the writing going, El’?” Leah peers down at Elliot with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ve been at it for a while without a break, you know?”

“Oh, Leah! It’s going splendidly, and yes, it seems we have…” Elliot coughs, avoiding eye contact while tearing the paper from his typewriter. “Why don’t we call it for today then?”

“Without showing me what you’ve done? C’mon,” she whines, “What do you have?”

Elliot and Leah had decided, sometime early last Spring, to meet in Cindersnap forest every Wednesday to work on their current projects. ‘Parallel play for artists,’ Penny once called it when walking Jas back to Marnie’s ranch. For Leah, this weekly rendezvous has (so far) allowed her to complete 2 clay sculptures, 3 wood sculptures, 23 drawings, and 8 paintings; for Elliot, the last few months has allowed him to create…

“Nothing,” Elliot sighs, packing his typewriter’s case with a frown. “I have, somehow, written nothing! I mean, I wanted to craft a Petrarchan sonnet, inspired by Poe’s romantic, yet macabre sensibilities. I ended up with trash I couldn’t even make hendecasyllabic. It’s embarrassingly Shakespearian and—”

“Whoa, whoa, buddy, that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m not sure what any of that means, but…” Leah scrunches her freckled nose, hoping to find the right words to calm Elliot down, “It seems like you’re expecting perfection from a first draft. Maybe we should call it for today, and you could revisit your poem tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right,” the authors scowl softens; after a moment of meditation—feeling the summer breeze tangle in his hair—he looks towards Leah with a smile. “I will see you next week, Miss Faraday.”

Elliot didn’t return to his typewriter until later that week, deciding instead to bask in the sun’s warmth on the beach. The author sits on the pier with a contented sigh, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to his afternoon reverie.

Even still, despite the Elysium that he has found himself in, Elliot cannot shake his frustrations; his linguistic discouragement plagued his every thought.

“Ahoy there, my boy! Perfect weather for fishing don’t ya reckon?” Willy smiles, closing the front door to the Fish Shop behind him. Elliot

“Ah, hello Mr. Tucker,” Elliot waves as the fisherman sits beside him, attaching a small blue tackle onto an impressively shiny rod, “I suppose it is, although I fear I don’t have my fishing gear with me today.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that? No need to be so formal, son,” Willy chuckles, casting a line into the vast depths of the saltwater, “Say, aren’t ya usually off in town around this time? Feel like I never see you this early on a Wednesday.”

Elliot still had to adjust to the predictive routine of a small town, and the horrifying consequences of straying from said routine: becoming the topic of mid-afternoon gossip.

“Yes, well, I um—,” Elliot sighs, looking into the deep blue below as if the ocean concealed the antidote to writers block, “I have been, writing with Leah every Wednesday and… actually can I ask for some advice?”

“O’ Course ya can, my boy.” Willy nods.

“I have been… struggling lately,” The taller man slumps as he runs a hand through his auburn hair, his voice heavy with uncertainty, “I feel as if I have lost my spark, my… capacité artistique. I cannot, for the life of me, write anything of quality! I just… I feel broken, Mr. William.”

Willy takes a moment to think, slowly breathing in the salty air, “Hmm, I see your problem, lad— but it’s important to know yer not broken. Aye, nothin’ about ya is broken.”

A fish tugs at Willy’s fishing line: desperately; hopelessly.

“It’s like if yer pal Willy couldn’t fish anymore… I’d sooner swallow a sea urchin than lose my ability to do what I love,” Willy pulls the rod towards him, putting up a fight with whatever poor creature is on the other end of the line, “but sometimes it’s tricky doing what ya love 24/7, son! You got to remind yerself to take breaks, and…”

The creature is hurled out of the ocean, flapping helplessly as the fisherman releases it from his tackle. Willy holds the freshly-caught octopus up to Elliot.

“Remind yerself why ya love it!” Willy chuckles, before mumbling to himself about throwing his newest catch in a tank lest he ‘gets inked’.

As Elliot sits in contemplative silence, the ocean offering solace: the rushing winds, the distant cry of seagulls, even the smell of salty air. Over the last year and a half, he has grown to love it all.

As he rises to his feet, Elliot considers his friends’ advice. He certainly didn’t want to remain in this slump forever; so he needs to find a reminder of why he loves writing; a source of reinvigorating inspiration.

He needs to find a muse.

A muse in a village with a population of 27.

‘Well,’ Elliot thinks, slamming his cabin’s door shut behind him as he slides onto his desk chair. He sets up his Olympia SM 9 for the second time today. ‘If I can’t find my muse in life, I will simply create my muse in art.’

For a moment, the black page loaded into the typewriter stares back at Elliot, mockingly. Then, as suddenly as the crash of thunder that bellows from above, the author began to write.

Elliot bursts into the Fish Shop, his manuscript clutched tightly in hand, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Willy, my friend, you’re incredible!” he cheered, his excitement palpable. “I truly could not have done this without your support.”

Willy grins, offering a sincere thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it, lad! So what was your reminder, eh? What got you back on track?”

Elliot coughs, a flush creeping up his freckled cheeks. “Well, you see… I made it up.”

Willy arches an eyebrow, bemused,“Ya made up yer reminder for why you love writing? Now, son…”

“No, no,” Elliot hastens to explain, “My love for writing is genuine. But my muse, my darling muse, is not.”

“I’m not following, my boy.”

“I have spent all night crafting the narrative of a completely fabricated person, it’s all here,” Elliot elaborates, “They’re genuinely kind, talented and hard-working, despite never being appreciated. They have the most charming mole on their neck, and they’re delightfully witty! After their grandfather passed away, they—”

“Son,” Willy interrupted gently, his tone tinged with amusement, “Yer a peculiar one, ya know that? How is this going to help with yer writing?”

“It does sound ridiculous, but dedicating my sonnets to this idealised character… thinking of them as I work on my novel… It has been phenomenally motivating!” Elliot laughs, re-reading through the pages before stopping in his tracks, “Oh, I do apologise old friend, I barged into your shop like a man possessed.”

It had been months since Elliot had felt such a fervent desire to write; his unbridled excitement was contagious; a smirk spreads across Willy’s face, crinkling the corners of his dark green eyes.

“If it were anyone else instead of you, I’d be furious, lad,” Willy chuckles, reaching into his mini fridge, “‘Ere, I whipped up too many crab cakes last night, and I know they’re yer favourite— consider it a gift.”

As Elliot arrives back at his cabin, writing snacks in tow, the muffled playing of his piano greets him. He chuckles softly, before preparing to shoo Harvey out of his home so he could resume his day of writing.

“Sincerest apologies, I—,”

“Oh! Honey, you’re back so soon.” Turning away from the piano, your eyes catch Elliot’s with a familiar warmth. You admire the way your boyfriend’s hair always forms delicate waves when exposed to the sea spray.

The author was struck speechless, his heart pounding as he stared at you with more focus than you have ever been subject to.

It couldn’t be real. And yet there you are. You. The muse Elliot had crafted— who's entire life was written mere hours prior on the pages that were now strewn about the floor— was standing before him in flesh and blood.

Every flawless detail exactly as he had imagined.

“Elliot, darling, are you okay?” Your smile becomes wry; nervous as to why your lover was acting so peculiar, his pale skin was now a ghastly white. “Would you like me to pour some wine? We can—”

Before your suggestion was made, Elliot was gone; the door slamming shut behind him.

note #2: okay if you didn't catch it, my inspiration was the 1960 episode of the Twilight Zone: 'A World of His Own', and (more relevantly) the 2012 psychological horror romcom Ruby Sparks !! if you check out either that episode or movie, pleasepleaseplease lmk what you think <33

[lazyjellyfish300]

Shiu comforting you over the loss of your first husband...

Words: 635

CW: xFEM!reader, grief, angst with comfort, jjk spoilers

You've been married to Shiu Kong for almost two years now. Two blissful, fulfilling, and healing years. 

Shiu didn't shy away from the fact you were a widow. He was the first man you encountered whose love was tethered to no strings, accepting your grief for your late husband Nanami as a permanent part of you. 

Unfortunately, Shiu was no stranger to losing a loved one to the unforgiving world of curses either, having lost a girl he dated when he was very young. The ability to see curses plagued him and your united pain brought you two together.  The searing divide of death could not stop you two from feeling the comfortable warmth from the happiness you managed to reignite within each other once again. 

But sometimes on nights like these when the calendar edged closer to that dreaded anniversary, even Shiu couldn't keep the nightmares away. 

You dreamed about him again. Your dead lover who had your name carved on his heart that was blown away. The unforgiving brutality of not even a complete body you could mourn and bury properly.

The chill of impending autumn that used to fill you with warmth and excitement now carried heaviness and gloom. The way it so jarringly reminded you of exactly what you were doing, this time, that year, before you lost him. 

And all Shiu can do is try and love you with the broken pieces. 

"Don't leave me, Shiu..." You sobbed into his chest. 

"Never, babydoll. Wouldn't dream of it..." He murmurs as he rocks you in his arms. "Somebody would have to pry my cold fucking body from you before I even think about being taken away from you sweetheart..."

You hold him even tighter. 

"I miss him." 

"I know angel, I know you do." He hushes you, chasing each tear away with a soft kiss. He brushes his thumb underneath your eye. 

"He was a big part of your life doll, I'd be worried about ya if you didn't miss him." His gaze is bittersweet. An unfortunate pain he is all too familiar with. 

"You're so sweet, baby. You have a lot of love in your heart."

The tops of his fingers stroke the warmth of your palm. "I'm just a lucky son of a bitch that you're willing to spare a little bit with me."

"Oh Shiu..." You kiss him with the fervor of a million tides. "I love you. I love you so damn much."

He smiles with his eyes closed. "Hmm, can you say that again?" 

"Love you so fucking much Shiu..."

"How much, huh?"

"Walk around the earth three times, and back, then multiply it by infinity..."

"Heh, you know I'm no good at math doll..." He whispers.  "But I do know that's a lot. But it still don't come close to my love for you, doll face."

"No way..."You groan softly. 

"Agree to disagree doll face." He winks. "But I'm not letting you win this one." He allows the silence to settle for a few moments longer, the distant Westminster chime of the grandfather clock from down the hall temporarily fills the gap before he gently speaks again. 

"Feeling a little better?"

"Yes Shiu.."

He nods, the point of his knuckle brushing your cheek, catching the outline of your chin, his heart reaching for you outside of his chest. 

"He is always with you, angel." 

Your heart becomes floodgates for a wave of adoration. "I know Shiu..." You kiss him again.

"But don't ever forget that I love you so much."

"I don't doll face. You remind me very well, everyday."

"Shiu..." 

"Get some sleep, doll. You need it." He whispers. 

"Long as you hold me through the night. Don't let go?"

He murmurs into your hair, holding you close, 

"Not on my life, baby. "

----

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

[peakbys]

A MINUTE AND GONE

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Summary: Quieter moments with Tommy almost feel like you're in another world, and you can't bring yourself to walk away when they present themselves. Request: Yes.            → @runnning-outof-time asked: Hi there! I saw that your requests were open and couldn’t pass up on the opportunity - you’re such an amazing writer! Would you be willing to write something for Tommy using the prompt "I believe this belongs to you."  ?? I’m not sure how you feel about prompts, but I’m not the best at requesting things and so they’re always a go-to for me. Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested. Thanks so much in advance if you choose to write it! 💕 Warnings: I went into this with the intention of fluff, but it got more angsty than intended. So, heads up for a dysfunctional relationship and reader's conflicting feelings. There's still some lightness to it, ofc. It's a mixed bag. Note: Thanks for sending this in! Took me a minute to get around to it due to life, but I hope you enjoy it!

Things were never simple with Tommy.

Sure, you knew what he and his family were, yet it was difficult to be pulled into that life from what would have been considered outside. Even with the close and intimate relationship you had with Tommy, it was a hard feeling to shake. Outsider, not really allowed in too close. Whether that meant you not being too involved in the business or not being allowed too deep into Tommy’s mind depended on the day, sometimes. For a while, you had accepted that. Some days, you accepted that the human mind and heart was too complex for a simple black-and-white idea that he didn’t have room for you. 

There was always someone else, you knew that. It filled you with such bitterness sometimes, and yet in others you supposed you could understand. 

It had you feeling like you were being torn between two mindsets on it. Sometimes you swore you were done, that you’d leave. Other times, you just couldn’t shake him and you found yourself trying to just make it work to the best you could. It was overly complicated, sometimes too much to really explain with words. (As much as you caught the odd knowing look from some of the other Shelby women.) 

Perhaps that was why you weren’t berated too hard for the little outburst you had the other night. Usually, you did your best to keep that behind closed doors, yet it felt like you couldn’t really stop it from coming out when it did. A little spat and argument at a public function with Tommy didn’t seem too bad for what you had seen in pubs and other functions like that, yet a part of you couldn’t help but kick yourself when the anger had subsided. Yet, your pride wouldn’t let you admit that in the moment. Really, you were stuck with some feelings that were all too familiar. 

Anger, discarded, hurt, like you couldn’t compare or compete. It wasn’t until a few days after the event that you realized it was that sense of competition that caused you the most issues. 

That night, Tommy hadn’t really done anything to set you off. Other times, definitely, but that fact had settled in when you had fallen asleep without saying another word to each other. You were lashing out from an insecurity that had plagued you long before you even got close to Tommy, but it certainly had a lot to play off of with him. That realization had come with a heavy pit of embarrassment that took another day before it was too much for your pride to push back. 

Apologies weren’t always a huge struggle for you, but when it came to things like this? It was hard to form the words. You knew you didn’t want to pick at it, make things worse, but it was more like you didn’t really have the words for the explanation that followed. 

It was with those thoughts you found yourself approaching his office, stepping inside with somewhat slow, cautious steps. You shut the door behind you softly, lingering by the door as you took in the scene before you. 

It was almost ill-fitting, how beautiful the day out was. 

It lightened up the room, giving a natural light that seemed all too inviting. As much as Tommy had only given you a flicker of his gaze in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence, even he seemed relaxed. He was notoriously difficult to read, sometimes. Expressions flashing in a small flicker on his face, his eyes more cold than you could stand at points. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, especially when things were rough. 

On the other hand, ironically enough, he was easier to read in neutral moments like this. 

He was focused, yet he didn’t seem that frustrated. A touch bored, maybe, but nothing that really suggested to you that you couldn’t approach him. That you should rethink your intentions on showing up there. 

With a small, reassuring breath out, you finally approached him. 

“Are you busy?” you asked, placing your hands on the back of a vacant chair in front of his desk. 

“I’m always busy,” he replied matter-of-factly, “This can wait, though.” 

Tommy looked at you, then, giving you his full attention. His expression was neutral, gaze expectant. You had a hard time not meeting his gaze, feeling your fingers dig into the back of the chair somewhat as a sense of nervousness settled. You couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been easier if he had just let you talk while he worked, yet you knew this was the best way to do this. In a way, you were almost intimidated by the genuineness of it. 

“I…wanted to apologize,” you stated after a moment, “For what happened a couple of nights ago. That it’s taken this long to even say that. I was…lashing out over something that wasn’t anything you caused. I was acting like a frustrated child. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.” 

He seemed to take that in for a moment, meeting your gaze before he leaned back in his chair somewhat, the touch of a grin crossing his face. 

“Believe it or not, that was not the first time someone’s lashed out at me in public,” he replied, “I thought it was something like that. I’ve already forgiven it.”

“I…still wanted you to hear that. From me,” you said, taken a little off guard by the casualness of the conversation. Yet, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how he’d react anyway. 

Despite only giving you a nod in return to that, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief upon hearing his words. There it was again, pulling you back toward him again when you had promised yourself, yet again, that you weren’t going to. A part of you knew that it would probably do you better to actually say what you mean–to actually explain your behavior outside of acknowledging that it was out of line. 

Yet, a bigger part of you in that moment was just tired. Of the overthinking, the seriousness, the isolation, the frustration–all of it. 

You knew you let it win when you backed away from the chair, but didn’t leave the room. The wheels in your head had started to turn, and the idea that formed was quite appealing. If he’d humor it, you supposed. It wouldn’t hurt to offer. With some mild amusement, you stepped forward as you fought to keep a small grin from slipping onto your face. 

“Well, if that’s how it is…” you began, pausing a moment before you held your hand out toward him, “I believe this belongs to you.” 

It was hard not to grin at the slight confusion that settled into his expression, his sharp gaze searching your own as you flexed your fingers somewhat invitingly. Amusing as it was, and you didn’t want to ruin the moment by spelling it out for him, yet you knew you wouldn’t leave him in suspense for much longer. Though, after a few moments, you realized that you may not have to. The realization that settled softened his expression, his eyes brightening in a similar amusement. 

Tommy’s smiles were rare–the full ones, at least. The ones that almost changed his face and let you catch a glimpse of someone he might’ve been before the war and the world he lived in hardened him. The ones you were fortunate enough to catch always seemed to catch you off guard–in a good way, at least. So, it was hard to hold back the one you were hiding when he gave you one at that moment. 

“Now you want to dance, eh?” he asked, making you chuckle. 

“I promised,” you replied with a light shrug, still (somewhat awkwardly) holding your hand out. 

You had left that night before you had gotten the chance, and you figured perhaps this would be a good signal to show that you really just wanted to move on from the whole thing. You knew it didn’t solve what caused it in the first place, but it was hard to make the decision to ruin a moment like this. Despite everything, moods seemed high and your resolve had crumbled plenty over the last couple of days. 

Luckily, it seemed like his resolve didn’t need much poking to fall in that moment, either. 

“You’re leadin’, then?” he asked teasingly as he took your offered hand, which prompted a small chuckle from you as you pulled him further into the office where there was some more space. 

“I barely know how to dance as it is, so no,” you said, letting him pull you in closer to him. 

Tommy slipped his arm around your lower back as you rested your own on his, your free hands entwining in what was a loose representation of waltzing positions. You tried to mirror his movements in what was a light sway, no music and much too close for what it probably would have been if you had managed a dance that evening. Yet, you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that, sinking into his touch as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

It was odd. For all the violence that Tommy had within himself, it was moments like the current that surprised you. The small, tender moments that he could show behind closed doors or with people he trusted. So, in a way, you supposed that it had to mean something that he was willing to do this so freely with you. Yet, it was hard to say that with much certainty, especially when it came to Tommy. 

Yet, despite the doubts, it really only had you grasping these moments alone with him all the tighter. 

“...I don’t know if I understand you, love,” Tommy admitted quietly after a few more moments of your silent dancing. You couldn’t help but let out a soft huff at that, almost a touch bitter. 

“Next to you, I must look like a half complete puzzle at worst,” you replied, somewhat muffled as you still were pressed close to his shoulder. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe we just don’t know each other that well,” you muttered, although you knew the proximity and the quietness of the room would allow him to hear every word of that. 

You weren’t entirely wrong, either. On your own side, at least, but you doubted if he wanted more out of this than the odd event and nights spent together that the crumbs that he knew about you would be enough. Really, maybe a part of you should have realized that he wasn’t someone who would just let you in easily–from what you knew about him, that made complete sense. In a way, a part of you knew that was the case and made sure not to share more than what he gave you. 

You weren’t without your own walls, after all. 

Still, it seemed like it was enough to keep you around. The rope that kept you close to him certainly pulled tight at points, but it hadn’t snapped just yet. 

“We’ll do somethin’ soon,” he said, pulling you back into the current moment. The certainty of it caught your interest, as much as a part of you hated that it did. 

It was odd to hear–for the most part with him it was a lot of ‘try’, ‘maybe’, and ‘might.’ 

“Just you and me,” he continued, making you pull back somewhat to look at him, “We’ll go to London, take the car into the country or the horses. Whatever you want.” 

“I’d like that,” you replied with a light nod, not ready to put much stock in his word about things like this. You knew that his life could change depending on the day. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a pit of hope that settled in your gut. 

Yet, in your mind, it was still another ‘maybe.’ You accepted the lingering kiss he pressed to your mouth anyway, still holding onto that light feeling in your chest that had built up throughout the last while with him. As it was, in that little world in that moment, you wanted to pretend that you could trust that. 

In time, maybe you actually could.

[not-poignant]

Sorry this is so long I literally cannot help myself:

I’ve been a reader on ao3 for a long time. This year, for the sake of giving my brain something new and in order to be a mysterious hottie on the metro, I’ve challenged myself to read some published books. It has been a really fun and very interesting experience. I could write essays of personal and literary reflections.

But, favorite author mine, one difference I did not expect, and in hindsight it should have been obvious, was the vast, essentially ideological difference in what is called smut.

I started reading the Court of Thorns and Roses series and it’s good, I’m having a good time. But the thing is, everyone calls it faerie smut. And I guess it must be. When I heard faerie smut and decided to give the series a try, my faerie smut background came from ao3, namely fae tales and the ice plague.

“With each thrust I felt his love and saw the stars” really has nothing on “my entire family burnt and now my lover has his hands in my mouth and up my ass while he heats me up so thoroughly I’m basically delirious and then our sex mentor wine aunt was hungry and told me I was doing good while he drank my blood and his lover who is also the king casually reads nearby likely with bits of flesh stripped off him as an act of sacrificial love.”

The thing is, the sex scenes I’ve read in Sarah J. Maas’s series don’t really… do much. Regardless of crazy scenario, essentially every of the many erotic scenes in the fae tales verse either moves the plot forward, is essential to character development, or showcases emotional intimacy. (Which, tangent, is why you’re more recent works that generally showcase way less sexual content still feel so similar because the plot is still moving forward, characters are still developing, and the emotional intimacy is still so delectable.)

So anyway, reading book books has been really nice and a surprisingly reflective experience. I kinda forgot how little is considered scandalous by so many.

(And also, compared to ao3 which I usually read on my phone, it’s very difficult to read physical books while horizontal. Another plus for ebooks?)

Hi hi anon!

I'm glad you're enjoying the experience of reading 'book' books! :D I've heard many good things, and while I'm not likely to read it (I don't read cishet m/f if I'm not being forced to), I think it's awesome that it's going so viral and getting lots of folks into fantasy :D

As for the ACOTAR sex scenes, I haven't read them, but I feel like they fall into a certain kind of spicy sex scene being written right now that falls under 'explicit' for readers not used to seeing this stuff in fantasy, but absolutely kind of doesn't for people used to reading smut on AO3.

I find for myself, I can't handle these kinds of sex scenes because they're often over in like one or two pages and they feel very empty to me. They're not empty to many readers and I'm not trying to say they're empty overall, I just need a lot more emotionality, meatiness, and often character-based stakes.

Or I think about it this way: I've written sex scenes that are easily 6,000-9,000 words long. That's a tenth of a written standard-length novel. That's too long for novels. This is why you never see these kinds of sex scenes published anywhere except for erotica, and in erotica there's pressure to make the sex scenes shorter anyway. The only place where I know I can safely write sex to the length and breadth I want to is in serials, on AO3.

Authors in the mainstream book-writing world are kind of forced into a shape that fits the length of the book they're writing. If they write three very deep/lengthy sex scenes of the length that I write at, firstly they'd be thrown into the erotica dungeon (can no longer be searched for on most distribution websites), and secondly, that means they lose a lot of space for writing story, which for many of these writers does not happen during or because of sex scenes.

Authors can still sometimes write very hot sex scenes in a few hundred words, or one or two pages, don't get me wrong! But the vibe is different. I've never really liked sex scenes in anything published except for erotica, because it often feels... idk, like for example this line:

"“With each thrust I felt his love and saw the stars”"

Idk if this is canon to the book, but for me this means nothing. Why is the character feeling this way? What is it about the thrusts? What is it about the pose? Is it about eye contact? (And is this innately comfortable? How neurotypical is this character?) Undulation? Does he linger at the end? Is it because he circles his hips a certain way? Because that's not love, that's just talent.

I suppose for me, as a reader, I need explanations that let me understand why emotional shifts are happening in a sex scene. In the same way that I would need them in any other character change.

Other people I think can suspend their disbelief better and think 'wow that sounds amazing and hot.' I'm like 'I don't get it.'

And that's very much a me-problem! It's just a me-problem that I think I share with quite a lot of other readers, which is why we're all out here enjoying much longer sex scenes and then realise we can't really find them anywhere except for like... AO3, and some manhwa and manga and published erotica lmao. (I do think you're actually also more likely to find it in like f/f and m/m of any genre).

Anyway, on the flipside, some people find my sex scenes way too long and don't see the point. So all this stuff needs to exist for everyone! I just yeah, really like sex scenes where character stuff is happening. I can't write them otherwise, likely because I'm ace, and don't really find 'look at hot body = want to have sex' a thing that's relatable.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

NOW LET'S TURN THE TABLES AROUND! How about MC comforting M6 from panic attack/flashback??

The Arcana HCs: How the M6 get panic attacks and how MC comforts them

~ when I posted the other one I had several asks for the reverse. sorry the writer's block made this take so long, enjoy your pain my dudes - brainrot ~

Part 1:

CW for panic attacks, flashbacks, references to familial abuse and addiction recovery

Julian

His panic attacks mostly come from his time in the dungeons below the palace

One of the really beautiful things about him is his commitment to doing good and helping others whenever he can

So once you've started your new life together and settled in, you can bet he'll still be doctoring people wherever you end up

The problem is that he hates seeing people in pain

Which is generally what people are experiencing when they go to a doctor

Most of the time it's fine. He's been doing this for years, he knows how to stay detached from what he has to do while remaining calm and empathetic with his patient

But sometimes, someone comes in with symptoms similar to the Plague

Or worse, they come in with injuries similar to what he saw Valdemar inflict in their research

You'll know as soon as they show up that they will receive the best care he can give them. As long as they are in his clinic, he'll be in peak form looking after them

And once they've been treated and recovered and he's come home, he'll disappear while your back is turned and you'll find him curled up in a ball under the stairs, gloves off and clenched in his fist, trembling like a leaf in the wind

He doesn't cry very much, but you can see his face get even paler and his breath will be shallow

The first thing you want to do is help him get his breathing under control, because if he starts to feel a lack of oxygen for too long it'll trigger a flashback to the time he was hanged, and that makes it much, much worse

It's one thing to be desensitized to other people dying, it's quite another to remember the explicit details of choking to death for a crime you didn't commit, knowing that your friends, loved one, and little sister are all watching with no guarantee of coming back

You'll put his hand on your chest so he can feel you breathe and talk him through as many breathing exercises as you need to

He chatters when he's nervous because he tends to have a racket of thoughts in his head, so if you can get him talking it'll help

When he talks about what's bothering him it means he's not the only person thinking about it anymore, which helps him stop feeling overwhelmed

Once it's over he'll be unusually quiet. He just needs someone to take the weight of the world off of his shoulders, and the best way to do that is to wipe his face with a cool towel, draw him a bath, feed him dinner, and hold him close when it's time to sleep

You don't have to wait until later for him to thank you, he'll be whispering it constantly every time you touch him or make eye contact

He is going to be so sweet to you your teeth will rot

Asra

They're not the clingy type - at all - but their biggest fear is losing the people they love

It was bad enough in the past to make him put other people's well being on the line when he lost you

On one hand, their ordeal with you and freeing their parents forced them to confront their flaws and they have much healthier coping skills in place now

On the other hand, he has more to lose than he ever has before

Which is when they started having panic attacks

All it took was you being out on a quick early errand when they woke up one morning and couldn't find or sense you anywhere

First there was the thought that you were gone. Then his mind started sprinting ahead of him, how gone were you? Were you coming back?

They could ask their parents - unless they were gone too? Nadia would know where they went - what if she left as well? Muriel wouldn't leave, there's always a place for Asra in the hut - unless he got sick of Vesuvia and disappeared too

He can feel his heart rate picking up, blood rushing in his ears, at some point he grabbed a bag to pack and go find you, but this is the pouch where Faust likes to nap and - where's Faust?

They can't see Faust, and they can't think right now, they can't clear their mind to call anyone, their magic isn't responding when they try to summon it, where is Faust? And where are you?

You can tell something's wrong as soon as you get back. Contrary to Asra's perception, his magic is shaking as much as he is, and so is every jar on your shelves

The first thing you do when you see them is gently take their hands from their bag and put them around you

He freezes when he's overwhelmed like this and it's hard for him to sense things, so the best way to pull him out of it is to help him feel that you are still there with him

You'll pull them somewhere comfortable and soothing and wrap your arms around them, put their head where they can hear your heartbeat, run your fingers through their hair and along their back

You'll also be sure to put Faust where she can curl around his arm and squeeze as tightly as she needs to

Once it hits them that you're there, they'll be sobbing with relief

He'll be clutching the back of your shirt, tracing your face with his fingertips, tangling your legs with his so there's no way you can leave without him knowing

Once it's over they'll just want to go back to sleep. They'll wait until you're free to join them though, they are not doing that alone

When he wakes up he'll have a list of people to visit and an invitation for you to join him. He's learned the importance of connection and he wants you at the center of all of his

Nadia

She gets panic attacks about being stuck in her dreams again

It doesn't happen often, much of her recent growth has been overcoming her self-doubt and learning to trust and appreciate her intuition again

But maybe she spent several late nights in a row fretting over a fix Vesuvia problem

Maybe there were a few nobles refusing to give her access to certain supplies or stores

Maybe it's making her begin to question herself again

And maybe she finally gets so exhausted that she sleeps in far later than she planned to the next morning

And maybe the whole time she's asleep it's just a series of stress dreams of not being taken seriously and being unable to move forward with what she needs to do

It begins slowly for her. First her eyes are opening and she's registering how late it is. Then she sees you're not next to her, your day has already started. Without anyone there to ask she has no idea how long she's been asleep -

But how long has she been asleep? The normal hustle and bustle of the Palace is muted since it's mostly in the main halls now, her wing is silent, she doesn't know where Chandra is, this is a nightmare

But she's been having nightmares all night, and apparently all morning, and don't tell her

Oh god, don't tell her this is another nightmare too

You know to check up on her because Chandra came flapping into your face with the kind of urgency you've learned not to ignore

When you walk in she's somehow pacing and hyperventilating at the same time, in uncharacteristic disarray

Her hair is starting to tangle, she's clutching her robe to herself, and her eyes are darting from wall to wall without registering anything

The first thing to do is get into her field of vision where she can focus on you. Once she does that, the fastest way to help her calm down is to answer all her questions

Once she has something to anchor herself with she's very quick to recover

She's a little embarrassed about how easily she was affected, but she appreciates your discretion and becomes more open with you as a result

No matter how late she stays up, she insists you never leave without waking her to let her know

Muriel

Oof, he's been getting these for years

The only big difference is that now you're around to see it happen, where he used to just ride it out on his own

It happens way less often than it used to. Overthrowing Lucio with you made him confront the source of most of his trauma and it's been helping him heal

But hey, it still happens. The first time after you two get together, he forgets you're even there

He's in the woods with you, clearing a path with his staff, when a stray branch snags on his hair and pulls out his bun

His hair is falling in his face, he's still going through the motions of hacking at the underbrush, but he can't see anything and some of the sticks are whipping around and scratching his arms and face

The last straw is when he steps forward onto a sandy patch of ground and then he's back in the Coliseum, gripping his weapon and looking at the person he's about to kill through his curtain of hair, hearing the jeers and boos of Lucio's followers

As soon as he can move he's heading for the hut as fast as possible

His normal routine was just to get somewhere safe and isolated, where he could wait for it to pass without worrying about being noticed

You saw him freeze when his hair got snagged, but by the time you noticed all the signs of panic he was taking off, leaving you behind and very confused

He didn't seem to hear you when you called his name, but Inanna knew what was going on and she was able to lead you to where he was

When you find him he is tucked into a nook in the back of the hut, shaking and hyperventilating and somehow staying completely silent

You need to ground him in the present, so you get the area smelling of myrrh while Inanna climbs into his lap to put pressure on him

Eventually he's able to listen to you talk him through some breathing exercises and the shaking stops

It'll take a while, but he'll open up to you about what it was like. He's never been able to tell anyone else because they would blame themselves, but you've proven that you're strong enough to handle the details

He'll slowly start to stand straighter afterwards, like there's less to hide from, and each time it happens again he comes out of it a little faster

Portia

She'll never admit it to anyone else, but she gets panic attacks about her Aunt Tasya

Can you blame her? One of her two remaining relatives turns into a strange version of the Devil and threatens to sacrifice the world, including herself and those she loves, and then snaps out of it after she talks her down?

She loves the life she has now, she loves you, and she's so free to forgive, but the trauma doesn't disappear and she doesn't know what to do with it

The two of you are meeting with Nadia one afternoon between ambassador trips and she informs you that Tasya will be arriving in Vesuvia for a visit in a few days

You and Nadia both notice the way all the blood drains from Portia's face. She hasn't moved at all but her eyes are staring at something miles away

Nadia dismisses you and you're able to pull her into a more secluded part of the gardens before she completely melts down

Her hands are shaking, there are tears streaming down her cheeks, she's trying to speak to you but she can't catch her breath, she can tell you're worried and she hates worrying you

But more than anything, she's racked with guilt. She loves her aunt, she's forgiven her aunt, she knows that she is stronger than her aunt, she should be looking forward to seeing her again

And yet all she wants to do is grab you and hide. Just the thought of meeting her on the docks makes her nauseated with anxiety and she doesn't know what to do because this isn't how she's supposed to feel about family

You'll have to hold her face in your hands and force her to look at you. The grounding techniques work at first, but until she tells you what's hurting her she can only get so far

At first she can't even make eye contact because she feels so ashamed, but you're able to tell her that whatever she's feeling, it's okay, you won't judge

Once she tells you you'll have to spend the next ten minutes telling her she's not a bad person for what she feels

You're able to talk about it more in depth later, and when the time comes you make sure to be with her anytime you meet with Tasya

Being validated like that helps her to reestablish what family means to her, and she's grateful that you're part of hers

Lucio

His panic attacks are mostly around the Devil and his fear of getting trapped again

Acknowledging his past mistakes was critical for his personal growth, but it also meant facing the fear of being responsible for bad things happening

His panic is more likely to be triggered by old mental habits than anything else

He'll be with you on a job, annoyed by some detail or another, and entirely out of habit he'll think "this would be easier if I could make a deal with someone about it."

And suddenly the rest of his mind is screaming at him. Why would he think that? Is he actually going to go down that path again? He just thought that so easily, what if he actually made that mistake again?

Visions are flashing through his mind of relapsing, slowly bargaining away everything he takes for granted, losing you in the process and having no second chance for redemption

He doesn't want to be who he used to. He doesn't want to - he doesn't want to - he doesn't want to

You'll notice him suddenly stop walking, his eyes fixed on a random nearby object while he's lost in thought

You'll see a sheen of sweat appearing on his face and his hand will begin to tremble

Mercedes and Melchior have been his companions for years, after this has happened once or twice they'll even know to alert you to an impending episode

He'll be muttering pleas under his breath and when you touch him he's started to go cold

The best thing to do is get him to drink some cold water. Something about the action grounds him more effectively than anything else you've tried

You'll get him to sit down against the nearest tree and the two dogs are handling it perfectly, leaning heavily against him and licking his face

Once you've managed to ground him, you'll have to convince him to tell you what he's worried about even if it makes him sound lame

This is the moment where you can praise him without worrying about puffing up his ego. You get to tell him how strong he's become, how much he's changed, why he's worthy of your love

He won't like to acknowledge it after, but he'll hold your hand for the rest of the day