#brute force of the group

[skinetom]

Cenobite ~ The Chatterer

[serpentface]

Do you have any information on the root scholars that you can share? They’ve always been a cool cult/organization to me

Ok it’s a facet of the Eterhimhamdli religion, which is The most widespread single belief system east of the inner seaway (which isn't saying much in terms of scale but it's still pretty significant) and also one I've barely introduced so I'll go over it a bit here.

Eterhimhamdli has spread past its initial sphere of old (~500 years BP) southern Lowlands Yuroma kingdoms, has many folk practices, and has schismed a few times, so there's a good deal of cultural variation. But its basic tenants/tendencies are:

-Creator deities are wholly rejected, the universe is an interplay between non-personified dualistic forces of Body(evil)/Mind(good). In one schism, the interplay of these two forces is the Dream, in others dreaming is an aspect of Mind.

-Deities in general are not wholly at odds with Eterhimhamdli, but their importance is de-emphasized and worship is usually discouraged in favor of making them objects of contemplation and/or tutelary figures.

-The Mind of the universe exists as a collective soul from which human souls emanate

-every person has two souls: an egoistic soul that animates the body and an ethereal soul that animates the mind. The latter is conceptualized as a single drop from a greater sea of the collective soul.

-belief that true wisdom is derived through access to this collective soul.

-belief that the trappings of the the ego-soul and the body's demands inhibits access to said collective soul.

-belief in the concept of enlightened beings who gain full experiential knowledge of the collective soul while remaining in a body, thus becoming capable of directly communicating aspects of their wisdom to the masses.

the biggest schism in this religion is over whether enlightenment just means experiencing full knowledge of the collective before you die, or whether it means transcending the limits of the body entirely and functionally becoming an immortal, godlike being.

deities of older/other religions absorbed by Eterhimhamdli are often reframed as enlightened mortals.

-most sects believe that only sophont life (or sometimes Only humans) have a etherial-soul along with the ego-soul, while animals exclusively have the ego-soul. Plants and inanimate objects Usually aren't ascribed souls outsides of heavily syncretic folk practices.

-belief in a fundamental good-evil cosmic dualism, though in a fairly complex way (evil is a necessity for life that is to be tempered and grappled with, rather than outright vanquished from the world entirely). The notion of 'evil' here is most associated with bodily desires (this includes all bodily needs like hunger and thirst, necessary to support life but viewed dangerous in excess, and being the root of conflict and pain).

the evil nature of bodily desire is not About sex, but does translate to non-procreative sex being frowned upon to varying extents.

-belief that life is a state of internal warfare between the evil ego-soul and the good ethereal-soul, with the former being more powerful and influential. To lead a good life is to bring the ego-soul into equilibrium with the ethereal soul. To live a wise and venerable life is to fully tip the balance in the latter's favor (this is not an expectation for lay followers, as it is considered profoundly difficult and requires separation from worldly life).

-lay followers practice forms of temperance to bring these forces into equilibrium, priests practice forms of asceticism to subdue the ego-soul and gain experiential wisdom in the process.

-The way you balance your life has consequences for the afterlife. An evil life causes an eternal death (this is usually posited as an underworld), a life in equilibrium causes one to be reborn into a new human body (a neutral fate), and a good life results in full return to the collective soul (this is a state of complete peace and contentedness and access to infinite wisdom).

-A selection of hallucinogenic plants are central to the monastic/priestly aspects of the religion, being seen as the key method through which the body can be transcended and the ego-soul can be quieted in order to tap into the collective. Lay followers do not participate in this facet on a regular basis.

-Priests also participate in self-flagellation, as the struggle with physical pain is a key microcosm of the broader internal war with the ego-soul, and can be a source of wisdom and contemplation. They are extensively tattooed for partly related purposes. Laymen are not expected to flagellate as a practice but rather to apply teachings to/learn from struggles with everyday pain.

-Very complicated relations with violence as a concept. Some strains of Eterhimhamdli philosophy see violence as an exclusive result of evil to be avoided whenever possible (usually more completely by priesthoods than the wider societies they live in), others see it as a neutral tool in of itself that Can be a force for good when used wisely. (Large scale 'wise usages of violence for the sake of good', shockingly, tend to favor the in-group's position in preexisting ethnic/religious/territorial conflicts).

-Most sects are proselytizing and see conversion as a necessity to create a better world, and have broadly unfavorable views of other religious practices.

This does not extend to seeing all societies that practice Eterhimhamdli or even The Same Schism Of Eterhimhamdli in a positive light (the birthplace of this religion is currently about 60 semi independent city-states organized into leagues that are frequently at war with each other)

-Highly favors education, literacy, rhetoric, debate, and the acquisition of material knowledge along with deeper spiritual wisdom. Knowledge and wisdom are venerable traits and societies should be led by the learned, or at least by people under their guidance.

---

The Scholarly Order of the Root is one order of Lowlands Eterhimhamdli monastics, functioning as a closed cult/mystery religion. They’re based out of Suurota (one of the biggest Yuroma city-states and dominant member of its league). They're at the top of the league's hierarchy of monastics, very wealthy, and have some involvement in governance (being an advisory body to the magistrate).

The Scholars primarily interact with the general public by hosting many of the league's institutions of scholarship and philosophy, and some of the biggest libraries in this part of the world. Their institutions are used by laymen Suurota citizens and members of government for study, and they host monks and priests (uninitiated to the inner cult) in their halls.

Actual membership to the Scholars cult is limited, they neither expect nor want associates to participate in their rituals. Rather, they position themselves as teachers- revealing small aspects of their secret knowledge to laymen and the lesser monastics as a form of guidance, while keeping dangerous knowledge for only the trusted inner circle.

Their baseline belief system aligns with the general schema of Lowlands Eterhimhamdli (one of three major schisms of this belief system), but their closed cult practices revolve around fairly unique interpretations, understood to be the ultimate underlying truths of this worldview.

The Scholars focus on an extention the Mind-Body model of the universe where their synthesis is the Dream (this itself is not unique to this cult, but the depths of their focus is). Under this model, the world is the dream of the collective consciousness, and achieving enlightenment or even temporary lucidity can allow the dream to be shaped to one's will.

One of their most secretive practices is god-building, in which they utilize altered mental states to shape the fabric of the dream into entities they can use as personal teachers of secret knowledge (also as a type of magic in general, they use it to 'build' guardians and curses and the like).

The process involves using mild doses of Ur-Root brew (mostly derived from roots of the clonal Ur-Wood colony, whose bark has notable concentrations of dimethyltryptamine and also hosts milder fungal hallucinogens) while maintaining an object and concept as a focal point of concentration. The altered state provided by the Root allows the user some access to the wisdom of the collective soul, and they will experience secret knowledge and revelations about this object, how it can best be used (this will be supplemented by material knowledge about the subject). This process is repeated until the user experiences a sense of Presence in the object, which must be interacted with, given a name and a face. Through more repetition, the object is believed to be shaped into a sort of thoughtform god which has come into material existence via manipulation of the dream.

This is considered to take immense time and effort to come to completion, god-building projects can last for years and be the combined effort of multiple Scholars. In the end, you have shaped an entity to your will that can operate independently of you.

The Ur-Wood itself is the center of Scholar cult practice, as it is both the purveyor of their most important hallucinogen and believed to have been the first god ever shaped by this form of lucid dreaming (it's a pilgrimage site for Eterhimhamdli where thousands of followers have undergone Ur-Root trips over the past four centuries, using the woods as an object of contemplation). To them the Ur-Tree is the ultimate teacher of their cult, an extremely powerful built-god that has been involved in almost every journey to enlightenment and contains all these journeys within its substance.

They believe that communing with the tree via Ur-Root can grant access to all enlightened mortals- full trips (with a DMT breakthrough type experience) will often involve sensations of encountering entities, which they interpret to be these historical figures. Within their religious framework, they're kind of speedrunning enlightenment. Under most conventional frameworks, the teachings of wise and/or enlightened people are conveyed in writing or speech as things to Contemplate on one's own journey- you might be able to understand them Conceptually but true understanding is Experiential, a process that can take a lifetime. In their framework, they're both receiving these teachings directly AND embodying states in which they can experientially comprehend them.

That summarizes most of their secret practices, and the rest of their practice is pretty standard for devout Lowlands Eterhimhamdlist priests. They live a partly ascetic lifestyle, they bear extensive tattoos as a contemplation of pain and marker of their journeys, they flagellate, they use tutelary hallucinogens, they refine their non-experiential body of knowledge through debate and rhetoric, they work to accumulate both worldly and spiritual knowledge, they work as scribes, etc.

[hauntingmiser]

It's day 15

I made a selkie oc

[tilbageidanmark]

From The Michigan City Police Department Files

[jrwiyuri]

Rlly funny I saw a Genloss post like “I think Ranboo gave us this when we can’t rlly solve it just as a time filler” and then 40 minutes later it gets solved

[bloodyarn]

@bloodtwin 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 ››› [ 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 ]

────────────────────────

Oblivious yet happy to oblige, the little woman scuttles over to Puck, who looked exactly 1+ strength stronger   !

     ❝ Hello   !   What are we trying today   ? ❞

[lordsardine]

.

[chuchuscoolhat]

Is Chuuya a cat guy asking for maybe a cat girl or no

❝ Nah, I'm more of a dog kinda person. If I had the time, I'd take nine of them but as how things are going, I'd rather give that chance to someone else. ❞ Money wasn't an issue after all, yet even he was aware that things like that couldn't just be solved with money or cheap love. With arms sprawled around the back of the sofa, he throws his head back as his gaze wanders lost in the ceiling, pondering for a bit about the poster of puppies he saw hanged on the town's headboard not too long ago. Call it a longing for some sense of normalcy in his life or perhaps something tied to that unconscious aptitude he had for protecting . Caring . It didn't end up mattering much as it all ended up feeling strangely finite and distant.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he looks up from under his hat at Ashmi's eyes ❝ However by the look in your eyes, somethin' tells me you are searching for another answer, doll. ❞

[arolesbianism]

Brute: ah yes I have finally gotten Softie to communicate with Queen and Alpha which has already done wonders for basically repairing the former and beginning the repairs for the latter. Maybe I can finally be free from this hell of my own creation and live with my loved ones happily -]

The evil and nefarious Beats:

[kalashtars]

guys I can't do this omg

[choco-bites]

Thinking of aYandere!Popular boy with a Creep!Fem!Reader

Part two: here

notes: english is not my first language, if this contains errors, please let me know. warnings: mentions of dead animals, reader is also a yandere?, mentions wanting to cut someone, stalking, non-con photographs. idk if I miss anything, let me know too.

Yandere!popular boy known for being the richest in the school, yet despite that, he offers a kind smile to everyone. Wherever he goes, he is greeted and invited to all the parties. If you want to boost your popularity level, just a minimal interaction with him is enough. His great size and strength make him ideal for the school’s football team.

Creep!reader surrounded by rumors. who has been seen collecting dead animals for an anatomy research in biology and a serious face what seems strange to everyone; remains unfazed—except when, with an old digital camera and a strange smile, takes pictures of her deceased pets. Others move away when she sits at their table during lunch, excluded from group projects, and make she the target of ridicule. Yet, maintains an unshakable façade of seriousness.

Creep!reader who notices him first. Accidentally walked past the playing field during practice and stared at each student on the team. When saw the brute strength with which Yandere!Popular played, swore her heart stopped for a moment. Now, had a new reason for her lips to curve into a smile.

Started to spent her free time researching him, taking photographs, drawing him, writing about him, and imagining what it would be like to break someone so radiant down into nothing but a puddle of tears and misery.

Yandere!Popular who one day caught you stalking him, taking pictures while he walked home, decided to let you be. Soon, he would find out why you was watching him so closely.

The next day, Yandere!Popular sneaked into your classroom to snoop through your belongings, eventually finding your diary. He flipped through the pages, finding nothing truly interesting—until he came across a drawing of himself alongside several written passages.

"I wish I could get closer to him. I wish I could grab his strong arms and open them up. I wish I could see his beautiful lips twist in pain. I just wish I could have him."

Yandere!Popular heart ignited in a way he could not bear. He had never felt so flattered before. He shut the notebook and tucked it away desperately before rushing to the bathroom.

Locked in a stall, he read and reread the diary, a foolish smile adorning his now deeply flushed face, feeling as if he might cry from sheer emotion. No one had ever taken such an interest in him before. Sure, he was popular and all, but no one ever looked beyond that. But you—

You didn’t just stalk him to get to know him better. You wanted him so much that you wrote about him, drew him so majestically, and, most of all, desired him only for yourself.

Yandere!Popular decided to give you exactly what you wanted. After finding out your address, he skipped school that day to sneak into your room, only to discover that you had his photos plastered all over your wall. His heaving chest could hardly take it.

You were made to worship him.

You entered your room after a few hours, only to find the boy you had recently obsessed over sitting on your bed, sniffing your pillows. You weren’t entirely surprised—you had already noticed your beloved diary was missing and suspected he had caught you in the act of taking pictures of him.

A choked gasp escaped him at the sight of you, and you stepped closer, grabbing his cheeks with one hand, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

The only thing he could manage to say was a sweet:

"Make me yours, please."

[hellsballz]

the fordbidden fives gonna force nokt to carry that gem around like this

taglist under thecut(just ask to be added/removed)

@nyaskitten @ninjnerds2017 @blinksalot @s0ull3ss-p3rs0n @crowleycorvid

@theroxian @nin-jay-go @jalluzas-ferney @sleepy-gay-puppy @elijah-lad-of-chaos

@luellal0l @caseyjonesisinthehouse @2cats1trenchcoat @ct-9902 @sourcreamandeva

@xzier-tengal @rainofthetwilight @bruh37legolover @garmaballs @cable-salamdr

@llannasvsp @nero-le-doot @cboffshore @sneegsnitties @ninjamelissajulien

@procrastinating-everything07 @ups3tti @luh-lloyd @truffle-worm @angninjin

@citygardenss @monkies-rising @jezynowachmura19 @lexithequeenofgay @fancypeanutmoon

@geoxstxrs @officercooks @walmart-ninja @self-inflicted-hanahaki

[lilacgaby]

title: mini me

pairings: boyfriend!katsuki x girlfriend!reader

katsuki thinks it's cute how you adopt his habits, calling you his mini-me.

note: this has been sitting in my drafts for foreverrr, no proofread im sleepy

everyone called katsuki a bad influence on you, he cursed, was rude, and dressed baggy.

they were right, at least about his influence, because you two now mirrored eachother to a scary point. that's what dating since high school would do to a person i guess.

your once carefully crafted reputation, not wanting to offend others and caring deeply about others opinions of you was gone, replaced with a brute force reminiscent of your boyfriend.

interviewers we're now more careful with you, you'd tell them to fuck off if they pissed you off, and you'd leave if you got annoyed. before, youd stand awkwardly and avoid the questions, now they're luck if they manage to get halfway through it.

you strive to be the best now, you expect nothing but the best from yourself. you find competition easily, choosing a rival and beating them at any costs. you don't like being told what to do anymore, it seems patronizing when compared to your boyfriend who'd bend the world to his will before he'd make you lift up a finger.

you wore skull themed t-shirts now just because they reminded you of him. jirou once asked you what your favorite song was from the group, but you honestly didn't even know it was one.

you and him thought similarly now. with less than a look you two knew what the other was thinking, even laughing at the same mental image without uttering even a breath.

katsuki had started calling you his mini-me once you cursed out a man on the street, telling him to 'die'. he felt like a proud mother as he watched you stand up for yourself, though he was always at the ready to stand in.

he called you it proudly when you got headlined for making a villain cry while fighting him, what you said? he doesn't even wanna hear it.

though, he did call you it once (deragatory) because you'd started to make the cutting hand side under your neck when you got in an argument with him.

he didn't like the taste of his own medicine, but he did like the taste of you so he kissed that expression off your face. easy win.

[ephemii]

˙⋆✮Grace Alexander, INTRO✮⋆˙

(finally lol)

. INFORMATION; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ class: 1A

✶ birthday: January 18 (capricorn)

✶ age: 17

✶ height: 163 cm

✶ dominant hand: right

✶ from: ???

✶ club: gargoyle studies club

✶ favorite subject: history of magic

✶ hobbies: painting, reading

✶ pet peeve: gossipers

✶ favorite food: shrimp soup

✶ least favorite food: yogurt

. TIDBITS; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ by the time she was told that NRC was an all boys school, she had already been found out by Ace and Deuce. The very next day, she gave herself a haircut, procured a makeshift binder out of old scraps she found in Ramshackle, and the few friends she made adamantly referred to her as a guy. It was almost as if everyone else had imagined her feminine origins.

✶ that being said, it didn't take long for the staff to find out. Crewel tailored a proper binder for her, and even went as far as brewing her a special potion as an extra precaution. She was told to "never get used to this type of hospitality", yet by the end of every month, a prim little box tied with a sleek black ribbon would always be sitting at her front door.

✶ she keeps to herself, and is seldom known to get into trouble. That being said, when being around Ace and Deuce, it's always hard not to get into all sorts of trouble despite her best efforts. Despite the image she projects, she can be quite the brute— sheer force of will is both a terrifying strength and an awful weakness of hers.

✶ fiercely loyal as a friend, and isn't afraid to show her appreciation for others. Her first year friends find it off-putting sometimes, but it does strengthen their bond, if even by a smidgen. Grace once told Deuce how thankful she was to have him as a friend and that he was one of the first to shed some light on her grim situation, and he had to turn away to hide his misty eyes.

✶ huge, and I mean massive crush on Malleus. It took her friends a long while to connect the dots, but their reaction to the newly acquired information was nothing short of hilarious and maybe slightly offensive. The nocturnal fae is none the wiser to their unfaltering stares as he passes by their group during lunch.

✶ has a bit of a lack of personal space. More often described as a curious cat, she likes to peep and slot herself once something or someone catches her attention. It becomes a quickly known fact that she has no qualms over sharing, even if others do. One time, Leona stayed awake for an entire lecture for the first time since his freshman years— not to listen, but to stare vehemently at his golden rings wrapped around Grace's fingers during an elective class. She merely grinned mischievously once she caught his eye.

There's a lot more I could add, but maybe I'll leave those for fics and drabbles lol (which I also need to start working on.. I have like 10 drafts already 😵‍💫) but if you've read this far, thank you! 🩷🩷🩷

[lordsardine]

.

[occamstfs]

Court Ordered Change

Cyrus has long tormented those he sees as beneath him, his students, his roommates, just about anyone. When he's challenged by the university Honor Council he'll learn to treat others with decency whether he wants to or not.

Standard asshole academic to hairy himbo! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

“This will conclude the hearing on the behavior of Cyrus Washington towards his fellow dorm-mates.”

Cyrus was aghast, from the start he had been livid at being called to the honor council on drummed up charges that are purely non-academic. He’s got his second degree to work on, and just as those brutes in his classes do every day, the people he’s supposed to trust for help have simply wasted his already limited time. In a huff, Cyrus checks his watch and impatiently stands to leave. 

He is stopped by the gavel-handed bureaucrat sitting at the head of the council raising a finger as he tilts his head, “Oops! Nownow  Mr. Washington, there remains sentencing! I believe it would be prudent-”

“Oh what? Do I have to say I’m sorry!? Do you assh- judges not have anything better to do than waste the time of an actual student? You know there’s an AI Plagiarism epidemic right now so if you, uhm.” Cyrus freezes as he turns to see the man indifferently taking in his words, staring straight through him. Smiling wider than could possibly be comfortable, Cyrus catches the slightest lip twitch before he speaks up once more.

“I believe it would be prudent for you to walk a mile in the shoes of those you so denigrate Mr. Washington. As your roommate Reg suggests, you do not know the ‘struggle.’”  Cyrus grimaces hearing the pallid, still-grinning man say his roommate’s name. As if it were alien in his mouth. He hammers his gavel and his pale eyes lock in on Cyrus directly. He swears he can feel heat from the gaze as the freak finishes his sentencing, “The court sees fit to force you to change as you clearly will not better your behavior of your own volition.” 

The academic glances between the people sitting at the table ahead of him, force? He tries to speak up but is unable as the central judge continues, “Each further step you take on the path of belittling your fellow man, demeaning his intelligence, judging his appearance, insulting the core of his being. You will find yourself more than a step closer to joining him yourself. And with that, we adjourn this meeting of the Honor Council.”

Cyrus sneers, the honor council. A bunch of good-for-nothing little tyrants. They certainly never responded to the reports he’s levied against handfuls of students plagiarizing in his classes but when Reg Allen can’t take half the shit he gives Cyrus suddenly the world comes grinding to a halt. That, that oaf!

As soon as the thought takes pride of place in Cyrus’ mind it becomes irrevocably clear that the council was not being fanciful. He didn’t see them leave but they are suddenly gone. He does not know what they did but he feels it in his bones, intense pressure and throbbing. Cyrus could feel himself begin to change.

Perpetually thin from skipping meals to lead discussion groups and grade essays on top of his own research, Cyrus feels something novel. Not usually that sweaty of a person, he wipes his brow with his sleeve and notices how it catches just short. He feels his thin bony arm somehow straining a sleeve that has always hung limp, as every garment has to do on his slack shoulders and frail arms. 

The academic grimaces as he clearly sees not-quite-biceps for the first time ever, begin to fill his sleeves. Cyrus feels them slowly throb larger through layers of clothing as he runs the numbers on reality. Sticky with sweat he quickly disrobes from the suit jacket and runs into the bathroom. This could well be a nightmare, staring at his reflection he sees his curls lengthening, growing thicker as they fall down the back of his neck.

His lip twitches in disdain as they crest towards his shoulders. He shakes his head to focus and is immediately distracted, feeling his hair bounce lower. The words of the honor council echo through his head, they said they’d force him to change. These steps do not seem to be taken in that direction. An image of Reggie flickers in his mind and he is filled with irritation that the brute has any place in his subconscious, or whatever this wretched dream is.

Reflexively his new heavier arm goes to smack down on the porcelain sink he stands at. His brow furrows as he sees the meatier hand act so aggressively, as if he weren’t controlling it. His already thicker arms bulge and finally begin to send tears down the length of his ironed button-up. In between them he sees buttons beginning to strain and dark nipples poking out from the fabric as for the first time in his life there is something akin to definition on his chest.

Hastily he tears open the button up and gasps as he sees small pecs hanging on his thin chest, pushing larger with each increasingly anxious breath. Mouth open in shock he sees a shadow appear on his face and his eyes darken as his perpetually clean shaven face is darkened by a meager mustache goatee combo that he would never be caught dead having. 

As trimmed pubes begin trailing up towards his belly button, across a waist that has grown thicker but remained lithe, Cyrus can’t help but feel up his new form. His torso is slick with sweat and feverishly warm against his wider hands. Letting himself enjoy this bizarre dream, feeling himself start to chub up, in the corner of his eye he sees his expression dull. Just before he can bite his lip, Cyrus alights with rage as he recognizes the dumb look on his face. “God! This is all Reg’s fault!”

He will not find any pleasure in this clumsy inelegant form. He will not waste time working on biases that he has every right to have. The athletes in his university housing and dullards whose work he has the misfortune of grading are in fact not going to revive the benefit of the doubt. He pictures them sailing through life, imagining opportunities tossed at their feet due to their appearance or athletic abilities.

Jaw clenched hard enough to crack a tooth, he grunts in pain as it cramps. Feeling real pain he rubs his chin and ignores the feeling of more stubble growing underneath his fingertips. Wanting control of his dreamscape he imagines a chair behind him and petulantly crosses his arms as he goes to sit. This is of course, not a dream and he falls on his ass.

Grunting in pain he lands on glutes that have already begun to put on healthy weight. His dress pants tear from his vain attempt to catch himself and his crotch is freed to the open air as thick thighs send tears coursing down the length of his heavy legs. 

Cyrus reaches up to the sink to pull himself up, frowning at the dark hair that stretches down from his wrists. Until now he’s never even had to be concerned with body hair at all, let alone shaving. He’s been happily almost hairless for as long as he can remember. Feeling the wet jungle in his pits scratch his side as he pulls himself up he clicks his younger as this is apparently no longer to be the case.

In front of the mirror once more, his half-acceptance of his hairy pits and a paltry treasure trail immediately fades as he sees hair has spread far beyond these realms. Fertilized by the sweat still dripping down every inch of bare skin, his body has continued to grow, and with it comes a forest of thick dark curls. Like a trail of gunpowder, his pubes have steadily raced up his torso and now connect with an explosion of tight curls in the center of his chest. His thicker nipples are haloed by hair while the center of his chest is buried by still racing branches of curls.

Scratching at his itchy skin as in every corner of his growing body new forests of hair continue to sprout. Cyrus once more tries to mute the chaos of his changing mind. Rubbing his burning chin in thought as his small goatee puffs out and connects with his mustache, he desperately tries to ignore how the sound of it scratching and crunching makes him feel. Chest both anxiously hollow and full of pride as it continues to pile on weight, he resolutely stares at his reflection. 

Somewhere in the recesses of his increasingly foggy mind he finally realizes how changes seem to accelerate whenever thoughts of his obnoxious roommate take the wheel. Point in case as he crosses Cyrus’ mind once more he bursts larger. The man barely catches himself as he falls to the sink once more, weighed down by his entire upper body expanding at once. Had he taken any of the council’s words to heart perhaps he would realize that it’s clearly only when he digs at the man, but wont to blame anything but himself that seems a bridge too far. 

Looking decidedly athletic, as his shaky eyes take in his reflection and his quivering lips label him a mouth-breather evermore, what may be his last saving grace flows through his mind. He looks so fucking good, sure a little like Reg, a little like men he’s sure couldn’t stumble their way through a thesis. But he looks good. His eyes lose focus again as his fingertips dance across his muscled form. Imagining how good he’ll be in bed he’s halfway to drooling when he hears Reg’s voice in his mind, “Brooo let’s hit up the town!” The man’s face is clearer than his own reflection as Reg leans in closer than Cyrus could ever remember letting him, “Bout time we see if we can get a third like you wanted eh?”

The words that cannot be a memory strike him like a tackle, his attention is red hot as blush burns across his sweaty face. He tries to speak but finds his throat dry. Mind struggling to mediate between the two egos now inhabiting him, and filled with a thirst too great to ignore, he forces his head under the faucet and drinks from this public restroom sink. Shooting back up he has to fight the urge to punch his reflection as he sees red. Water dripping down his goatee he sneers and almost shouts, “I am not like him.” 

It echoes throughout the tiled room, sounding deeper as it returns, making the already sunken slow bass of his voice even lower. He swallows hard as an Adam’s apple bulges out if his neck underneath stubble that has begun to thicken on his neck and up his cheeks. “I’m not fucking like him! He’s so-” Cyrus hunts for an insult derogatory enough to suit his needs and comes up short. “He’s such- he’s so–” His hands shake with rage as they grow clumsier, arms hanging lower and biceps bulging larger with each anger-clouded heart beat and struggled breath.

Curls that once sat atop his head and hung down his neck begin to retract as with each refrain of I’m not like him, and each half-created thought of insult towards Reggie only compounds the fact that he is now more like him. His hair retracts and forces itself into a generic haircut almost exactly like that on Reg’s head. His mustache and goatee expand into a full beard that hugs his jaw as it too squares out. Body sculpted beyond belief, painted with hair that Cyrus has long denigrated, the once mousy academic finally realizes that this is all his own doing.

Watching his hair seem to straighten as his eyes lose the intelligence he has long held above all else, Cyrus tries to speak up too late to make a difference. And just then his cock bursts his shorts. He moans loudly in the bathroom as his briefs fall to the floor, exposing a mass of curls surrounding a cock harder than it’s ever been before. Standing out straight it smears pre across the porcelain sink before dripping even more onto the tiled floor. 

All the fight left in Cyrus drains alongside his haughty sense of self. He feels his balls pulse with a heavy need for release as they hang lower in the open air, staring at his hairy reflection he simply scratches his ass and laughs. The new Cytrus poses in the mirror flexing and quietly moaning as even the slightest movement sends his cock bouncing. Only when he hears the door to the bathroom creak open does he realize he’s standing nude in a public bathroom.

Under his thicker brow his unfocused eyes turn to see what poor or lucky visitor is going to stumble upon this stud. His ajar mouth turns to a smile as he instead hears the mystery guest announce himself who else but Reggie. His bro. “Yo Cy! You in here? Heard from the hammer guy that ya might be?”

Turning to find his roommate with torn clothes scattered at his feet, Reg laughs and makes sure no one else is going to stumble in on him. “Bruhh you can’t be goin’ around like this huhuh,” smile wryer than you might expect on his face as he goes for his bag. “Don’t work though bro, I’ve got some shirts for ya here throw them on.”

Cyrus quickly tosses them on commando and thanks his bro with a degree of kindness that he’d never exercise, even minutes ago. “Shit thanks Reg! Dunno what came over me, guess I just hit the gym too hard or uhhh, somethin?” His thicker brows furrow together as he tries to understand how he ended up in this compromised state. He’s not too worried though, his bro came to help before it was even an issue. Almost as if Reggie knew he’d be here.

Before that line of thought can be followed, if coming to conclusions was something Cyrus even remained capable of, Reggie throws an arm around him. “Ohh kinda sweaty bro aren’t ya?” Cy just laughs and smells his pits. Adjusting his shorts as his cock throbs from such close proximity to Reg, he tries to lean in even closer.

“Let’s get you back to our room huh? Seems like you could do with some rest bro.” Cyrus nods in agreement, eyelids drooping as soon as Reggie puts the idea to words. Despite whatever part he played in all this, with each breath of Cy’s new musk and each stamp towards their shared domicile his mind too begins to change. Cyrus has always been his bro, fuck they even share a bed. Way cheaper to bunk together.

Yeah that’s what it is, the economics of it all. His own jockstrap is strained as he feels the sweaty man burning under his arm. Scratching his beard with his free hand he lets his mind swim. The life shared with his bro quickly usurping the months spent lodging with someone who treats the world as beneath him. 

By the time they’ve made it back to their suite Cy’s already half asleep. Reggie deposits the sweaty man face down onto their bed and he immediately begins snoring. The bed creaks as his changes come to their conclusion, growing heavier as he becomes the perfect complement to his roommate. Then he sets about his day as always, not quite noticing how the world around him has changed. Pictures on the wall now showing him and Cyrus together, of course, as they always have been. 

The thought, ‘it’s better this way’ briefly crosses Reggie’s mind but he promptly shakes it off. No idea what it could possibly be referring to. Scratching his chest he starts preparing lunch for the both of them. Getting a ping from Grindr from a twink excited to pay the pair of them a visit, Reg just smirks. Doesn’t get much better than this. He wouldn’t change a thing.