#but now that things are sorted & settled i can go back to being silly full time which !!! i will make everyone else’s problem

[tetzoro]

HAPPY HAPPY FRIDAY FRIENDZ !!!! we are so close to the weekend, just a little bit longer ! i’m sending out lots of good energy to everyone to make this day a good one <33

[vroombeams]

kinktober day 5 & 6 || sweat/scent kink, body worship || galex

(on ao3)

for @albonoooo, without whom this one would not have come about

How George gets himself worked up like this he’ll really never understand. 

He’s seen Alex shirtless about a million times. Seen him completely naked about a thousand. It should follow, then, that it shouldn’t bother him to see it at all, right? Surely so many years of full frontal exposure should’ve desensitized him at least a little.

But here he is. Here they are in this luxe, private sauna, and George is working himself into a right state about it. 

The heat looks good on Alex, is all. He looks so comfortable, so relaxed with his head tipped back. The beads of sweat at his hairline are just starting to prickle up and drip, one at a time, down his forehead. His chest is shiny with it already. This vague sheen that George thinks might be nice to run his fingers through. Draw a smiley, maybe, like window condensation.

“I’d tell you looking isn’t free,�� Alex says without opening his eyes, “But even if it wasn’t I think you’d still pay for it.”

George averts his eyes instinctively. Again—years, they’ve been doing this, and he still feels like he has to look away when Alex calls him out on it. 

When he does look back, Alex’s eyes are open. He looks absolutely tickled. Bastard. 

“Not like it’s not even,” Alex says. He says it in this jokey sort of tone, but he’s also checking George out rather obviously. 

George forgets that bit, sometimes. That Alex maybe likes looking at him as much as he likes looking at Alex.

“Well,” George says, leaning over to ladle water over the sauna rocks, “I certainly don’t charge.”

It’s a silly thing to say. Absolutely laden with implications. He’d only meant it in—in the Instagram way, how he puts his whole… him out there on public display all the time, but it’s—it makes it sound so much worse when he says it like that. Bloody hell.

“No,” Alex says, amused. “No, you really don’t.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex pull the towel from around his waist, settle it off to the bench.

“What are you doing,” George says. He’s not scandalized. Really he’s not. Just concerned, isn’t he? That Alex’ll get charged for indecent exposure. Never mind that the cabin they’re in is private, reserved just for them. Also, he’s pretty sure the Finns get naked in the sauna all the time, so.

Damn.

“My balls are sweaty,” Alex says. There’s enough of a whining edge to it that it could almost be believable. If George didn’t know him better. If George didn’t know Alex wanted him to look, look, look.

Well, fine. George looks. Why not? 

He wipes sweat from his brow as he works his way up; starts at the bony arches of Alex’s feet, the jut of his ankles. His long, shapely legs, the hair on them, the muscle under tanned skin. The space  between his thighs, where his cock hangs soft. He’s seen it before. A thousand times. Seen it in a sauna before, even, so he knows how it looks, longer and heavier with the heat. 

It pulls thrills through him like stitches. After all this time, still. Alex has this effect on him.

George huffs. He huffs and he looks away, pulls his own towel from around his hips, tosses it on the floor. There. Now they’re even.

“Well,” Alex says. 

George looks at him with as much disdain as he can muster. 

Alex is looking back, but his eyes are trailing down George’s body again. Lingering on his chest, between his pecs, gaze so sharp it feels like fingertips on his skin. George imagines he can feel it. Alex’s fingers over his stomach, dipping into his navel. Down to brush along the base of his cock, like he likes to do sometimes.

George doesn’t have the benefit of being an absolute bastard like Alex is. So he’s already halfway to hard of course.

He doesn’t even have to look to know Alex is smirking at him. 

It’s annoying, how he knows how this will go. How he starts to move before he even can think about it, crawling across the bench, watching Alex’s arm sling across it in his periphery to welcome him in. He knows what it’ll taste like when he dips to lick the sweat from Alex’s shoulder. He knows how it’ll feel, the texture, when he runs his tongue along the scar on his collarbone. He knows what it’ll sound like, when Alex murmurs, “Georgie,” like he always does. 

It’s annoying, but he also knows he can have something like the upper hand. Alex always has the upper hand. 

George steps off the bench, gets between Alex’s legs and leans over him with a hand on his shoulder. Bends to lick Alex’s chest, to swipe his tongue across a dark nipple. The taste is familiar but better, somehow. The shower before the sauna has left Alex’s sweat tasting clean and salty and satisfying.

He follows it down. Goes to his knees as he follows the imagined path Alex’s eyes had taken down his own body with his tongue until he makes it to where he wants to be most; where Alex is dark and hairy and musky. Where George can bury his face in coarse curls and rub his cheek against the thickness of Alex’s cock. He’s gotten so hard so fast that George can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

Alex touches his hair and twitches his knees outward, but George doesn’t go for his cock. He pushes his face into the crease of his thigh, where the smell is strongest, where even clean the sweat still smells and tastes so strong. The hair isn’t as thick here but the scent is so much better. George licks him clean at the joint, lets him spread his thighs all he wants. 

He goes for his balls next. Alex hadn’t been lying; they’re sweaty as all get out but still, George puts them in his mouth.

“George,” Alex groans. “George.”

George feels a bit crazed with it. Looking up at Alex, sweat dripping down his chest and his taut, flexing stomach. At his face, mouth hung open and eyes half-shut and his cheeks a bright, fevered red. 

He watches Alex’s untouched cock twitch, feels it against his brow. It’s so swollen, so hard, looks so big from this angle. Not that he’s going to tell Alex that. 

“Georgie, come on.”

George goes to Alex’s other thigh and buries his face there instead, huffing deep breaths of musky skin like he’s starved for it. Alex’s knees are shaking. He’s spread so wide open that he’s slid down the bench, slumped against the backrest, arse slippery with sweat against the polished cedar.

Impulsively, George dips lower, slipping his tongue against the space behind Alex’s balls. 

Alex swears and immediately slides down further, tucking his own balls up with a big hand to let George in. And George goes in, licking up the sweat collected between Alex’s arsecheeks, nose pressed to his taint. It’s the sort of heaven he never could’ve dreamt of. Surrounded, warm and sated, all his needs taken care of. 

Who’d have thought a bit of rimming could be Paradise?

Alex is saying his name again, and George presses the flat of his tongue against his hole, breathes and tastes and melts. It smells so good. Tastes even better. He wants to tell Alex that bit at least—how good this is for him. 

There’s a loud click, abruptly, and then a soft buzz.

Alex says, “Fuck,” and sits up, flailing one arm out for the sauna timer. Just their luck, really.

George swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. He’s slick in the cheeks with his own sweat, sticky on his lips and nose. He wants to laugh. At the absurdity of it, at Alex’s absolutely stricken face.

“Better go,” George says, standing, pretending his cock isn’t swinging stiff and proud in front of him when he swipes his towel up off the floor and wraps it around his hips. It doesn’t do all that much for his modesty, really, but there’s no one around to see it.

Alex shoots him a bit of a glare. He’s sweaty and red all over. He’s got a hand wrapped around his cock, flushed purple with want. For a second George thinks he’s going to have a wank right here.

“Right,” Alex says eventually, getting his own towel situated without looking George in the eye. “Won’t do to get heatstroke.”

He gives George a bit of a slap on the arse on the way out and George bites back a grin. Feels like a promise.

[nat-20s]

a fic featuring Fourteen and Donna being so so eepy (also on a03)

During one of The Doctor’s usual puttering about at 3 am in the Tardis, they immediately notice two things about a certain door. The first is that in the latest rearrangement of the floor plan, this door has gone from the hidden depths of what we’ll call it “the basement”, to a fairly central area of the top level. Second, and perhaps more alarmingly, this door that has been locked for millennia is now cracked ajar.

He doesn’t, however, feel any immediate panic. Instead, a little smile he can’t quite hold back appears on his face. Soft in their old age, really. Should at the very least check that what he thinks is behind the door is there, and not some sort of intruder. Technically, while the bio-metric locks that had been put in place were some of the finest in the universe, he had enough experience to know that no locks were truly unpickable.

As gingerly as possible, The Doctor opens the door enough to peek their head inside; it’s immediately revealed that he truly needn’t have worried about a break in. Donna Noble, currently prone on the bed, had been the one to open her room, just as he had guessed.

He should have worried about how now, apparently, Donna was an extremely light sleeper. He had been almost certain that he hadn’t made a noise, but not even a full second later, she rolls over to face the door and stirs awake. Blinking away some of the sleep, she sees him and gives him a half-sheepish, half-tired smile. Before he can say something along the lines of “don’t mind me, get some rest”, she pats the space next to her and gives him a “c’mere” nod of the head.

The Doctor goes willingly, and even manages to not hold their breath stepping through the former mausoleum of their best friend’s memory. He settles next to her, face to face in a classic “talking too late at night during a sleepover” pose. Because of who they are, he can’t help but let the first thing he says be, “I seem to remember someone lecturing me about sleeping in the Tardis when there’s a perfectly good bed in a perfectly good house, spaceman.”

Donna must be half-awake, because instead of arguing, she gives a one shoulder shrug and scrunches up her nose in amusement. “You caught me.”

“I thought everyone but Granddad was at the London house tonight?”

“Oh, they are. Work ran late and here was closer, so I sent off a text letting them know I was crashing here instead.”

“In the Tardis?”

“Well. No. That’s my little secret. Or, I suppose, our little secret now.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her, asking for more info, to which she replies with a sigh. “You know, I wasn’t a super fussy baby-”

“-a bit shocking to hear, considering-”

“Oi! As I was saying, I wasn’t colicky or anything like that, but if Mum just could not get me to settle down, she would pop me in a car seat and drive around the neighborhood. Said I was out like a light within minutes.”

He has no idea where this story is going. He finds he doesn’t mind. It’s silly and sappy of him (what isn’t, these days?), but he finds it deeply charming when Donna goes on a little ramble. Especially when sleepiness is slowing her words and she keeps blinking for more and more seconds. They think they’ll get maybe 5 more minutes to chat before she’s fully gone again, and they’re going to savor it. She continues, “She stopped doing that when I old enough to toddle into their room and fall asleep between them. God, one morning they had gotten up early and I apparently screamed my little head off thinking they had left me forever.”

She says that last statement with a roll of her eyes, passing it off as one of those things kids do, but The Doctor’s heart lets out a pang. He wishes he could’ve told little Donna that it was okay, that her parents are there and they love her so so much. He wishes he could tell all Donnas that she won’t be left behind, not in the end. (They also wish they could tell themselves that they don’t get left behind, eventually.)

Personal timelines, however, are messy, and best left alone. Instead, he stays now, and he listens, and he takes Donna’s hand in his own. “Honestly, I don’t think my sleeping habits have changed that much. I still hate sleeping alone. I still hate sleeping motionless. Stick me on a boat with someone to cuddle up to and I’ll have the best rest of my life.”

She looks around the room briefly, then presses her forehead to the Doctor’s and continues, “You know, kind of like the nights I spent here. The Tardis, this room...it was only my home for a year. But it was also the most home I had been for a long, long time. And the house is lovely, so lovely, still can’t believe you bought us a house, but right now it’s too quiet and I missed it here. The various whirs and clicks and hums the Tardis makes? Better than any white noise machine on the market.”

The Doctor grins at her, feeling a bit smug and a lot soppy. “Now you know how I feel.”

She gives a half hearted poke at his chest, which is rather undercut by the yawn she lets out. “Still, ‘spect you to stay with us the majority of the nights.”

“Hey, I’m with you right now, aren’t I?”

She closes her eyes, giving a grin and a hushed, “Yeah, you are,” before slipping straight back to dream land. He technically could slip away now, but he’s already under the covers, are the steady breathing of his best friend is having a rather lulling effect. Remembering that he’s now allowed to rest, whenever he wants, he snuggles in closer, pulls the blankets tighter around them, and does just that.

[skylermadness]

Cosmic Adoration (Ophion TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: February 14, 2024)

Hey look, I'm uploading something in the same day it gets uploaded on my other accounts. Woah.

Original Description:

Happy Valentine's Day! I've sort of become infrequent when it comes to holiday-themed TFs, but this was actually a story I've wanted to write out for a long time! Quite literally since I started writing it back in January of last year before getting burnt out and never finishing it... until now, anyway. Now I have it done and I can upload it publicly for all to see! I'm quite proud of how this turned out. I typically don't deal in PMC but I feel like that would have been the best route to take this story, and full MC would have tarnished what little themes I was trying to convey with this.  I don't think I have much commentary besides all of that though. I guess I could mention there was going to be a reality change segment in the furthest end of the post-TF, but with how I led that segment of the story along I couldn't really fit it in without it feeling needless and awkward.

   Valentine's Day.

   Initially the very concept of the holiday had eluded Hugo for a good chunk of his life. This had mainly been because he had trouble discerning the purpose of the holiday. Why did such a holiday need to exist to celebrate love? Especially when such a thing could be celebrated on any day of the year. To him, at least originally, it was just a way for stores to boost sales. The most he'd usually acknowledge is the price drops of confectionaries after and that was it. So as far as he cared the holiday was nigh-nonexistent…

   That pattern of thought lasted for about twenty-five years. Then he met… Jace…

   Dating had always been outside of Hugo’s range of social skills. He had originally thought himself as never really feeling the desire for it. He was content with being single, or at least he tried to tell himself that as to avoid confronting any weird feelings he might have. This thought pattern had quickly changed over the past ten months however, and it was all thanks to the introduction of his boyfriend into his life.

   It was… strange, really. Having first fallen in love all that time ago. Was it love at first sight, or was it gradual…? Hugo had originally just been sitting in a coffee shop waiting for his order before going to work, but had encountered Jace after they seemed to recognize him as someone whom he shared a few high school classes with so many years ago. He'd be lying if he said he knew what the guy was talking about, but the thought of being recognized so randomly was quite pleasant.

   Their encounters at that shop became frequent, almost weekly. Casual talks about life between the two, sharing their interests and enjoyments to one another. Admittedly Hugo had been the more reserved one of the two, but he always enjoyed listening to Jace talk about their own life. He loved hearing his voice, he loved hearing him speak so passionately about things, he loved… him…

   It was definitely a little awkward whispering those very words beneath a breath while in mid-conversation. And even more so when they decided to take things outside and less public so they could talk it out. That awkwardness had quickly faded though, their conversation shifting more into the hypotheticals of dating each other. It was silly and lifted Hugo's spirits up a bit after what he felt like was one big act of making a fool of himself.

   Then Jace said he would like to date.

   Hugo was surprised, stuttering and sweating and being filled with complete and utter confusion. Jace then gave him a small kiss on the cheek, the man's mustache ticking the skin and making Hugo feel even more flustered. 

   That was enough to settle everything though. They were officially getting together… but now Hugo had a new problem.

   It's been ten months of them dating now and he felt… inadequate? He always felt like his way of expressing love was lackluster in comparison to Jace's. Jace was the more expressive and outgoing one of the two, meanwhile Hugo always had trouble trying to properly express his own emotions in a way that didn't sound like he was forcing it out of himself. He just always had trouble trying to say things properly. Trying to determine what to say, what to do. Was he romantic enough? Was he receiving without giving back in a perfectly equal amount? Of course Jace had been left unaware of these concerns. Hugo had chosen not to tell these fears to them, which in truth might not be a good idea…

   He shook his head, then whispered to himself. "Why am I such a mess…"

   Realizing he had his head down in thought the whole time, Hugo raised it and looked forward. He was currently walking down the sidewalk of the city's shopping district. It was currently February 13th, the eve of Valentine's Day, and Hugo had decided that with the day of celebrating love fast approaching he should do something for it. It wouldn't necessarily be something grand, but he at least wanted to give his boyfriend something that would commemorate his own love for them.

   That's easier said than done though. Fortunately Hugo had a plan! He was on this particular street for a reason, to visit an antique's store and locate something of value there that would be enough to encapsulate his passion. Unfortunately, that was also easier said than done. He wasn't even sure he'd find something there, especially considering how… odd the wares seemed to be, at least just by a casual glance at the store's website.

   Still, it was an adequate starting point. His steps began to slow as his peripherals caught onto the deep brown wood of a building. Hugo turned, gazing into the windows and finding shelves lined with various peculiar objects. Too many to discern properly. He lifted his head for one final check, staring up at the letting that spelled out the store's name.

   Maurice's Audacious Antiques. The very place he was looking for. Perfect…

   A bell above the door silently rang as the young man walked in and the wooden floorboards softly creaked beneath the new weight introduced upon them. The place had an odd and comfy feel to it. Hugo would describe it as cabin in the woods-type vibes. And considering the rusting of the shelves to his left, this place definitely has age to it.

   His eyes then caught a singular person here. To the right, behind a counter was a rotund man with a balding head and a thick, tied up beard. His head constantly went back and forth between two objects, a laptop and a notebook with poorly scrawled wording in it, while mumbling random things that Hugo couldn't discern. Hugo took a few steps forward before he was in front of the counter, the younger man noting that the older one hadn't seemed to notice him yet.

   "Uh, hi…?"

   The burly bear of a man raised upwards with his eyes wide, sharply inhaling. "Got damn, ya' startled me!"

   Hugo rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Sorry about that… sir?"

   The man's face suddenly shifted from startled to smiling. "No need fer formal'ties! Jus' call me Maurice!"

   "Er, right. I just uh, came here to…" Hugo started to trail off. Should he say the reason why he's even here? Will it even help?

   Maurice raised a brow. "Ya' alright, son?"

   Hugo blinked a few times, then swallowed the forming lump in his throat. "I-I'm fine! I just uh, wanted to find a… gift for someone close to me."

   The older man nodded, stroking his beard in thought. Silence filled the space between the two for a few seconds before one of them spoke again. 

   "Don' think I've gott'n a reques' like that before. Ya might be able to find somethin' in one a' the furth'r shelves though. They have all kindsa trinkets 'n knick-knacks." Maurice advised. He then repositioned his hand to lean his head on its palm. "With our recent batch a' stuff, ya' should find somethin' you like!"

   Hugo nodded in response. "Th-thank you… Maurice-"

   He turned around and went to the area he was advised to go to. The store's amount of stock was unimpressive with only a single row of five shelves filed one after another, but he had settled on checking the fourth one for anything interesting. It looked like it had small stuff in it after all. Although he was a little curious about the store owner's usage of should and would. It felt like they didn't know their own stock. They tried to ignore that though. They had to focus on finding a gift for Jace.

   It was now that Hugo truly saw how strange the objects on these shelves seemed to be though.

   Some seemed pretty normal. A few intricately designed rings, sets of jeweled earrings, and weird looking necklaces with a design-scheme that felt expensive to look at. However, oddities seemed to pop up left and right. A red, glass-looking orb; sitting beside it was a blue orb with gold metal zigzagging across the middle. Some weird sharp pen-looking thing, a golden chalice of some kind, and… was that a marble pauldron???

   "This is so weird…" Hugo whispered to himself. 

   Finding a gift was already hard enough, but the pure absurdity here made things feel more challenging than they needed to be. At least finding something perfect was a non-issue. He casually picked up one of the many spheres, one that looked like it contained an entire galaxy inside, and stared at it in utter confusion. 

   He whispered again, "What is your purpose??" while pushing his face close to the object. He then set it down again, suddenly worried that he might break it.

   "This isn't going to work…" he sighed, slowly stepping closer to the shelf's end and the window beside it. He sounded off more objects in his head as he continued forward. Weird blue crystal, a pair of sunglasses, a censor thing, some kind of… cap??

   For an antiques store all of this felt absurd-

   His confusion was momentarily broken as the peripheral of his eye caught onto something glistening. He turned his head to look and found… another necklace? A fairly simple one at that. It was a single golden string with a white elliptoid object on it. For some reason he felt compelled to pick it up, gently cupping the elliptoid and putting it in his hand.

   "What is this…" he asked himself, lifting his hand towards his face a little. The elliptoid looked almost like an egg. Its shell was adorned with beautifully designed spirals, rigid enough that rubbing a thumb over it allowed him to feel them out a little. It felt nice. Nice and warm. He wasn't sure why it was warm, probably because of the sunlight, but it was oddly calming to him.

   "It does look pretty neat," he said with a smile. His mind was wracking over all the possible representations this single object could hold. The warmth he feels around Jace, the way they have slowly have made him try to come out of his shell, the newness he felt upon realizing his love for them. A small laugh escaped his throat. All of those sound so cheesy, damn. But… they're the truth, are they not? 

   It feels so embarrassing though. His smile falters, his emotions dimming. What if it's too cheesy though? What if it comes out horribly and he makes a fool of himself in front of Jace? Damn it, damn it, damn it, he felt so fucking stupid!!

   He sighs. "I-I'm overthinking this, I have to… I have to calm down. I just…" he looked out the window, sighing. "I just wish I could better show my feelings…"

   Right as these words left his mouth the egg on the necklace began to glow. Bright gold shone from the unknown material, the object slowly shaking as it seemed to move closer to him. Hugo had felt the object moving in his hands and looked towards it, but barely got any time to process it as the object practically flung out of his hand and around his neck.

   "Wh-what the hell-" he exclaimed, feeling a tickling around his neck as the string tied around it. He reached up both hands to try and grasp the mysterious egg-like object and pull it off. However, the moment his palm made contact with it he felt an intense warmth run throughout his entire body. He took a few steps back, bumping into the shelf behind him, as an intense golden glow entered his irises.

   "What is… hhhaaa…."

   A hand opened, fingers unfurling away from the elliptoid as they began to twitch. A strange energy was filling his body, coursing through it painlessly and warming it to a strangely comforting degree. All the while strange changes was beginning to form into his form.

   His hands were the part of his body that first made contact with the necklace, which meant they were the first to have begun their transformation. As Hugo's fingers twitched his nails began to lengthen. They grew longer, the tips getting sharper and curling as if they were becoming claws. Their translucency was lost as they gained a golden tone as well. The skin on his hands started to lighten, a cream color entering them as the softness hardened. A leathery texture had steadily etched into them while their composition became less fleshy and more scaly.

   As the cream-colored scales started to form across his hands, their size was beginning to increase as well. Both hands had stretched out to become larger and thicker. His fingers were getting plumper and meatier. As his hands got larger in size he gripped both of them into fists, his knuckles proceeding to ache for a moment before short, sharp golden spikes erupted from beneath the scales.

   The scales quickly started to move upwards to his wrists and forearms. The area increased in size to match the proportions of his hands. However, this new enlargement had also been due to a gain in muscle mass. Comforting heat surging into his forearm muscles as they began to gain bulk. At the same time the coloration of his scales had steadily shifted, hue changing from its soft cream to a brilliant gold. All the while more short golden spikes erupted from the back of his forearms at evenly spaced intervals before seemingly ending at his elbow.

   His elbows got larger, the scales rapidly transitioning to his upper arm and running beneath the short sleeves of his polo shirt. The sleeves proceeded to constrict, his muscles now bloating beneath the lustrous scurf he was gaining. His biceps bulged beneath the fabric to a quickly noticeable degree. His triceps mirrored those changes as well, Hugo's once skinny arms now having been mostly consumed by his newfound musculature. Rips started to form within the fabric of his sleeves as his delts ballooned, his shoulders widening drastically as everything soon began to flow into his body proper.

   Hugo leaned on a shelf, breathing deeply as he stared down at a hand. His mind was feeling… conflicted, to say the least. A fraction of him wanted to be afraid, wanted to attempt to pry off this necklace from his neck. His other arm was slowly raising itself up to fulfill that desire. But his fingers that were slowly curling around the elliptoid never closed the gaps between them.

   There was still another fraction of his mind. Curiosity as to what was going on, as to what this object was doing to him. A strange desire to let that curiosity flourish and let these changes progress. What was happening to him, why was it happening?

   His breathing slowed just slightly. "What does this necklace want to do to me!?"

   It had to be the necklace's will after all. Such a thought felt so absurd, but in the back of his head he felt it was correct to assume to.

   A sharp exhale exited his mouth as he felt a sharp heat enter his torso for a second. His shirt began constricting even more as he felt his own collar bone widen, his entire frame being made more wide and broad. The one button of his polo he had fastened started straining as a result, his frame clearly getting larger than his shirt had been accustomed too. Shortly after that the comforting warmth entered his torso as well. The light of the necklace's egg glowed brighter for a moment, Hugo beginning to feel a strange feeling well up inside him as it did so.

   As the scales started to converge on his chest their color lightened back to its previous cream tone. Meanwhile, his chest began to swell in size. His pectorals got larger and rounder, packing on mass at a steady rate as his polo filled out more and more. It wasn't long until their thickening pressed up against his shirt, steadily testing its limits each passing second as his cleavage got deeper and more visible within the fabric. The new roundness of his pectorals were quite visible in general. The one fastened button of his shirt would suddenly pop off, unable to hold itself against the slabs of meat that were now his pecs.

   Meanwhile the changes were running down his back as well. The back of his shirt was tightening as his trapezius muscles broadened and enlarged. A sudden surge zipped down his spine, the vertebrae decompressing and getting thicker steadily forcing his height to increase by a few inches over the course of the next few minutes. But the strongest feeling was in two points of his upper back, a massive pressure slowly mounting into them. Two bumps slowly rising from the skin-turning-scales, hard spikes emerging from those bumps and beginning to poke holes in the fabric of his shirt. This pressure only seemed to increase as time went on, Hugo stumbling forward a bit and hunching. He gripped his abdomen with his left arm while he grasped onto a shelf with his right, the sound of metal crunching piercing the air thanks to the strength of his grip and sharpness of his claws. 

   Hugo practically growled at the mix of senses he was enduring right now. "F-fucking hell-" his voice cracks slightly, sounding slightly deeper as it crackles. "W-where'd that comfort go…"

   The warmth he was looking for still remained, albeit now drowned out by the insurmountable pressure in his back.

   His abdomen started to churn, the region rippling as his entire lower half was consumed by scales. Hardened slabs of muscles arose from the area, abs pushing forward row by row. His shirt was riding up his belly during the process, his new muscles being granted increasingly better visible. It wasn't long until a solid eight-pack of abs formed. An even stranger addition occurred in his abdominal as well, golden gemstones formed on the perpendicular folds of his muscles: a massive diamond-shaped one at the bottom of his pectoral cleavage, a smaller one at the base of his first row of abs, and the smallest at the base of the second row. 

   Beneath a hand he felt his side getting indented as well, the muscles in his obliques shifting and gaining in muscularity, strengthening as his chest was barrelling out. All these changes tightened his polo shirt to an even stronger degree, the threads on his sides unstitching due his much larger body size. The size of his newly formed muscles had resulted in the crevices his muscles had produced being visible from indents in the fabric. Due to his increasing height the hem of his shirt continued to rise even more as well.

   By this point, the holes in the back of his shirt has been stretched even larger by the formulating spikes. Although at this point the spikes had grown larger enough to prove themselves as the pointed ends of an external bone growth. This growth had continued to extend and expand, a pair of large triangular bulges swelling up at his back. Pressure just continued to build up as these bulges got larger and larger. More and more of the back of his shirt continued to tear, and the bulges gained more and more definition in their shape to point that they were proven to be more than just bulging scaley growths. But after a few more seconds of pressure building, everything came to one big feeling of relief.

   “GGRRRAAAAGHHHH!!!” Hugo roared, the sound of splitting fabric piercing the air as his back was finally granted escape from its discomfort. What had emerged from the region was a pair of magnificent wings. They were draconic in appearance with the flesh and membranes possessing the same golden scales that the rest of his body had formed. Furthermore his newly developed wingspan was noticeably large, and as the new appendages curled into themselves it became evident that the fingers of his wings were long enough to descend down to the ground. 

   The young man could feel the heat of his blood pumping through the newly emerged wings. Strange tingles and sensations coursed through his nervous system as his brain was forced to get accustomed to them, and in truth he could feel his muscle memory rapidly getting used to having them there. Once all the pressure and tightness had subsided, Hugo shakily straightened his back and looked behind him.

   “These… things…” he stated, his voice continuing to deepen in tone as he spoke. Like the feel of something commanding was seeping into it. “Why does… having them feel so… nice…?”

   Finally unhanding the shelf in front of him, he moves a hand over to give his new wings a gentle caress. That desire to be afraid had been dispelled now, the man filled with a feel of familiarity at the sight instead. These wings were his, and this body…

   This body is yours, a stray thought pierces his brain. The Celestial Egg is granting what you desire…

   Hugo blinked a few times at the thought, and the pupils of his eyes seemed to get thinner which each blink. He then stops caressing the wing and pulls his hand over to rub a thumb on the egg that adorned the necklace.

   “The Celestial Egg…” he whispered, the meekness of his earlier tone of voice almost completely replaced by an almost deific level of deepness. Meanwhile his mind dwells on the object and thinks about what it's done, what it's doing to him, and as he does so he feels a tinge of pressure at the base of his spine. 

   Instead of sitting around waiting for what he knew was about to explode from his body, he decided to just move his other arm behind him so he could push down the back of his pants a bit. It was a little hard considering his legwear was already at the point that it could barely fit around his waist, but he managed to push the top of his jeans just enough that he could let whatever pressure in his rear relieved itself without having to fight against his pants.

   The act had unveiled a small, pointed growth at the base of his spine. Its size wouldn't remain diminutive however as pressure continued to build up within it, that pressure causing it to quickly extend downwards. At first it started out being rather thin and small, like an unimpressive snake slithering out from above the waistline of his pants. However after a few inches it became noticeable that the lengthening appendage was beginning to get segmented, and each segment was slightly larger in diameter than the last. Come ten segments long and it was undeniable that Hugo was gaining a tail, and it was only getting longer. Twelve segments, fifteen, eighteen, twenty two; all with a sequential increase in diameter by almost an inch. Come the mid-twenties and the tail would be about a ruler in thickness. A few more seconds and the segment count reaches the thirties, in which the rate of growth begins to slow down. Thirty two, thirty three, thirty four… then it comes to a halt at about thirty five segments. By then the tail’s width was about a ruler and a half, and the length itself could only be about four times that long. It also formed with the tail’s aforementioned pointed tip, a series of spikes running across the top of certain segments, and a shine from the golden scales adorning it.

   Concurrent with the growth of his new appendage were the swath of changes entering into the lower half of his body. The sea of scales cascaded down all sides of his body, flowing down his waist and hardening the skin of his legs to match the nigh-reptilian nature the rest of his body was garnering. Beneath the shifting scales on his thighs were his muscles which, just like in his arms, were in the process of bulking up and discarding their once skinny appearance. His quads and hamstrings grew in conjunction with each other, absolutely bulging in strength as the denims of his jeans were forced to strain against his rapidly developing musculature. At the back of his legs were his gluteus muscles, them too in the process of swelling up to the point his rear was rounding out a fair bit.

   Pressure surged throughout the bones in his legs, and the bottoms of each pant leg rose up the crus of his own limbs indicating that more height was being added to his body. All the while a low heat burned in his calves, those muscles also ballooning out of the back of the lower half of his legs. By this point all the crevices that divided his muscles were indenting into the material of his pants, splits and tears forming in the sides of his jeans and revealing the shining gold his body had attained. It was like the changes had finely sculpted his form to a body type akin to the Grecian marble statues, except looking like he himself was worth billions.

   The final change in his body’s lower half came to his feet. By now they had already undergone a process to have grown in order to fit his new bodily proportions, larger and wider and thicker. His chunkier toes were pushing up against the fronts of his shoes to such a degree that the footwear themselves was bulging in its attempt to contain them. The heels of his own feet dug into the back of his shoes, and the sides pressed up against their sides. Even a few rips could be heard as the strings began to snap against the bridge of his feet.

   And then came the sea of scales…

   Once beyond his ankles the hardening of his flesh went from the pristiness of the rest of his form to getting mixed with a shade of vermillion around his feet. As his soles were covered in scales an almost reddish-orange hue formed in the area. Meanwhile the top of his feet seemed to practically harden as a scute-like segmenting broke apart the skin, perfectly dividing itself to align with the ligaments of his toes. And by the time this plating extended to the ends of his toes, an almost bronze shade of brown dispelled the translucency in his toenails as they gradually restructured and sharpened. Rips could be heard from the cloth of his shoes as a quintet of pointed claws emerged from the front, curved and pointed and almost bestial.

   Yet none of the sounds of his clothing shattering or the feeling of his form practically improving on itself were as much a distraction for Hugo as they could have been. All during that segment of the transformation his mind was instead focused on his own thoughts. Because the longer the changes are pressed on, the more his body becomes less human, the more information his brain seems to attain. The more the Egg puts into his mind to make his mentality compatible. And he knows it's the Egg that was doing this. His mind registers it as his unique Sacred Artifact.

   “Holding all that is and ever was in the very palm of my hand…” the changing man speaks cryptically, a low and deep chuckle escaping his throat after he makes the comment. He could practically feel the power of his own voice resonating through the walls of his throat. Although that could also be from the scales rising up his neck.

   A grin then forms on his face, any emotion he was feeling earlier cast away as a feeling of pure confidence had overtaken him. “…and out of everyone within you you're making me one of the most powerful there is? I should feel honored considering just who I used to be~”

   He could only grin wider as he felt pressure wracking his very skull. He lets out a laugh of triumphant glee and exclaims, “Yes! Give me that visage and make this Ophion complete!” For a moment the Celestial Egg around his neck glows brighter as if in response to him, then Ophion (who has at this point cast out the name Hugo) continued to grin as his face finally began to push out with his entire skull structure shifting alongside it.

   The way his skull was restructuring was a complicated series of events to say the least. The lower half of his face was being pushed forward, and his lower jaw seemed to be extending and growing to be a bit wider in size in comparison to the upper portion. That portion of his face would only continue to push out more and more into a muzzle, the very features of his face being reconstructed to fit this new development. His nose melted into the muzzle’s tip as the nostrils became holes at the furthest end, meanwhile his lips quivered as small portions of them reshaped into points and hardened as they did so. By this point his new snout was looking to be one that belonged to someone draconic in nature, much like how the rest of his body had. This was further proven by how the dome of his head was being reshaped, humanity rapidly being lost under a deluge of shifts that made his entire skull structure that of an entirely different species. 

   The shape of his skull wasn't the only thing changing either. As the scales washed across his head, rushing past his neck and circling the base of his muzzle, bony protrusions began painlessly erupting from certain areas of his face. On each side of his head a triad of bone spikes would emerge. The series of spikes just barely obscured his ears, which themselves were in the process of repositioning themselves to protrude at the sides of his head while also gaining an almost elfine pointedness to their structure. His eyebrows were quick to fade beneath the scales, quickly replaced by juttings of golden spikes that layered over yet another set of bone spike triplets that would rise from his browline. Even right in between his eyes a very small spike would emerge. And although these weren't spikes, a pair of short and pointed protrusions would extend out of both ends of his chin.

   All while these changes had occurred, Hugo’s somewhat lengthy hair was being steadily sloughed off. With each inch of his scalp the sea of gold claimed clumps of hair would slip off his head. It's once luscious fullness thinned out, each follicle being shoved out at the root by his magnificent scales. As more of his hair continued falling off it would also reveal one last set of growths on his head. The first of which was rising from the middle of his head’s apex, a series of short brown spikes that would soon run down the middle back of his head. The second of these changes however was significantly more substantial. Two brown points erupted from a portion of the upper region at his head’s back, and those points were quick to grow outwards and upwards. Unlike the rest of his face’s pointed protrusions, these ones were noticeably less bony despite possessing an appearance of hardness to them. And as the duo of brown growths continued to rise out from his skull, diameter getting a little larger as they got longer, it was evident that he was gaining a pair of horns.

   Perhaps the last major change came to Ophion’s teeth. The omnivorous nature of his humanity was quickly shifted, incisors and molars quickly sharpening to fit his new species well. The most drastic change would come to his lower canines though as the reasoning for his lower jaw’s protrusion finally came into tangibility. Much like the horns atop his head the left canine of the two lower teeth would extend upwards a fair bit while sharpening itself and, after a few seconds, shift into being more like a prominent fang. The rightward canine didn't get that luxury however as instead it seemed to practically atomize and leave the gum to harden and scar in mere seconds.

   The pressure that had enveloped the anthropomorphic dragon’s head finally began to subside. A glint of red overtook Ophion’s irises as the pupils finally properly slit like a reptile’s. “This feels so… good,” he muttered to himself as he raised up a hand and gently caressed his own face. “Makes me wish I had a mirror to see just how divine I look now!”

   Because at this point that's just how he felt: absolutely divine! His brain can register memories of a world beyond this one, a life beyond this one, all of which has been meshed and mixed with his own thoughts of his previous humanity. The Egg had taken his desire and, inevitably, went a bit overboard in fulfilling it. But Ophion hadn't cared, the personality overhaul he had garnered was absolutely wonderful! No more pitiful fears about how he acts, no more staggeringly low amounts of self-confidence, no more worries about… about how he can show his love to…

   “Jace…” he whispered beneath a breath. The very name carried the same familiarity that it had when he was a human. And thinking about it… about him made Ophion’s brain register the same emotion the dragon had towards him: an intense feeling of love. But now that intensity practically burned inside him, he felt a devotion that not even those atop the System of Olympus could fell. It was an unquantifiable feeling and was something he just couldn't hold himself from expressing!

   “I can finally do what I've wanted for so long~” Ophion proclaimed. He turns and takes a step forward, but is stopped in his tracks almost immediately as he feels a knee of his pants split over his own. It was at this point that the dragon had finally taken full notice of his extremely ill-fitting clothing. His polo was somehow still hanging on for dear life, meanwhile his jeans were a few stitches away from ripping apart at the sides.

   “I'm going to need something better than this if I'm going to look more presentable…” he sneered.

   The Celestial Egg sparkled a bit and glowed for a few seconds, prompting his clothing to sparkle themselves as a bright light enveloped them. A few seconds later and his clothes would begin to grow, expanding over his form so they could all cover him properly. The hem of his shirt was quick to descend over his abdominal region as the entirety of it enlarged enough that his muscle mass wouldn't indent so intricately into the fabric. But then a different change occured, a deep brown beginning to overtake the coloration of the shirt at a rapid pace. As it did so the small placket of the polo began to extend down the middle, golden buttons lining it but not even bothering to fasten themselves. The once small collar would also lengthen, popping itself upwards as it raised higher and higher. And as the shirt’s split finished its full formation the entirety of the shirt would open to now fully reveal his muscled torso. Meanwhile the back of his shirt was seemingly being restitched, the giant hole formed by his wings altering to become more intentional rather than a byproduct of the appendages tearing through it.

   The sleeves of the shirt weren't left unscathed as any rips were fixed almost instantly. The constricted feeling was alleviated, changed to a more snug feel as they more comfortably outlined his upper arm muscles. By the time the sleeves were enveloped by the brown coloration they would also bulge as if they were simultaneously extending in length while still trying to contain themselves to their shortness. This would eventually manifest in the form of his shirt sleeves now taking a rolled up appearance.

   A similar discoloration had entered his enlarging pants, although this time it was more beige in tone that was enough to shift the denim into a different and finer material. The shifts within his legwear were a little less intense as they would also only enlarge enough to allow movement yet still be tight enough to outline his muscles, all while fixing themselves of the damage his unexpected growth in muscle had incurred. The button that held the jeans closed gained a golden tone, as did the zipper, both of which being left completely open despite the fact his pants fit him now. And with no belt the only thing that held the jeans on his body was a pair of suspenders that snaked from over his shoulders and down his torso before promptly buckling on his legwear.

   The last piece of his attire that remained were his shoes which after being enveloped by the Egg’s magical light… straight up dematerialized into motes of light and leaving his feet bare. The motes of light didn't disappear however, instead floating upwards and behind the dragon before seemingly rematerializing into something else entirely. Fine silken material layering onto his back, amorphousness quickly dispelling as it gained a menagerie of whites and browns, all with trims of gold lining. It was hard to fully realize at first but it would seem that some kind of suit jacket had manifested behind him, being worn casually as it was just clinging onto his shoulders.

   With that the Egg’s glow finally dimmed, Ophion now sporting a look that could only be described as both distinguished and casual. With a smile he held the Artifact with two claws and brought it to his face. “Really abiding by all my wants today, hm?”

   For once the Egg didn't shine in response. The dragon wasn't expecting any though, so he unhanded the object and let it drift back to hang over his chest. He then sauntered forward, making his way out of the aisle… and into the eyeline of a very awestruck Maurice who was still behind the counter.

   “Was wonderin’ if I needed to check on ya’...” Maurice commented as he made eye contact with the anthropomorphic dragon.

   “Does this not happen often?” Ophion inquired as he stepped forward towards the counter. “I can practically smell the stench of anomalous magic from this place now…”

   “Err…” Maurice looked away.

   Ophion chuckled. “Do not think I give much of a care with what you do here. Although I do give thanks for your wares allowing me to attain such a brilliant form~ I don't think I've felt this great in ages!”

   “Uhuh…” Maurice nodded, face still in a mix of awe and surprise. “Well, that’ll be-”

   “I'll be deciding the price here…” the dragon practically demanded. He fished around a back pocket for a bit and pulled out a wallet, although upon opening it he was greeted with his former self’s image in the ID photo window. “…and I have a feeling I won't be here for much longer.”

   Ophion then placed the wallet onto the counter, then turned to make his leave. “Thank you for your help, Maurice! Your actions shall be etched into my memory for as long as time flows!”

   Maurice is just left dumbfounded as he watches Ophion leave the store and, after a good few seconds, jet into the air as one would expect a dragon to do.

   “...still not quite sure how to process that,” the storeowner muttered as his gaze drifted to the wallet the dragon had left behind as payment.

----------------------------------------------------------

   The sound of a blender pierced the air of the apartment, Jace idly watching as the fruit within the object was shredded into a fine paste. He was never quite sure how to spend days off from work whenever he was left alone. Especially since he had his hopes on spending the day with Hugo, but it was almost 5PM and Hugo hadn't gotten back from his mysterious shopping trip yet.

   The apartment falls into silence and Jace eyes his phone. Not even an indicator that his last text was read. “What could he be doing…?” the man muttered in concern.

   Then the melancholy serenity of the room was broken in an instant by the sound of a thump from the apartment balcony. A giant shadow being cast through the glass, easily visible from the kitchen’s adjacency to the balcony door.

   “Uhhhh…” Jace backed up a bit, eyeing the shadow with a slowly building fear in his chest. He couldn't make out what it was, it was just large and… monstrous?

   He then hears the balcony door slide open. A sound that prompted him to turn around and scramble for a knife or something to-

   “Jace…” a deep voice called out, interrupting his actions. Jace promptly squeaked in response, heart rate skyrocketing. He very slowly turns around to see the form of a golden-scaled musclebound dragon anthro staring straight at him.

   “Wh-what are you?!?”

   The dragon tilted its head, a spiky brow raised. “How undignified, I probably should've…” he shoved a hand in a pant pocket and pulled out a phone. “Please give me a moment.”

   Jace just stood there in fearful silence as he watched the dragon futz around with their phone, the sound of claws tapping on glass being the only thing fully heard in the apartment. Then after a few moments a look of satisfaction formed on the dragon’s face.

   “Here,” the dragon held the phone out, its wallpaper fully visible to Jace. The man’s eyes widened as he saw the image: a picture of himself and Hugo. This was Hugo’s phone.

   With a shaky step forward Jace began to verbally panic. “Where did you- what did you-”

   A look of realization then formed on the dragon's face. “Jace, my love, it's me. Hugo.”

   “Your love???” Jace exclaimed, eyeing up the golden dragon with some level of fury in his eyes. “I don't- you can't be! For one, Hugo’s a human!”

   “Was, I was a human,” the dragon corrected. “It would be hard to explain it all fully but,” he raised up a hand and tapped what looked to be an egg that was hanging around his neck. “This? This changed me into this glorious form.”

   Jace was far from convinced though. “Please, people don't just suddenly transform into dragons! You- you have to have done something to him-”

   “Our anniversary is in two months, the receipts for the bracelet you bought me for it are in the dresser next to our bed, and you’re still trying to reserve a date for that one restaurant with the shrimp,” the dragon listed out in rapid succession. He then stepped forward with his arms outstretched. “Now do you believe me, my love? Or must I go into your personal confessions?”

   Jace swallowed a lump in his throat. All those things the reptilian spoke of were correct, and there's no way he could've garnered that information unless he was somehow spying on the two of them. “I-I was hoping you wouldn't have noticed any of that!”

   “We live in an apartment, love,” the dragon, Hugo apparently, stated as he leaned over the kitchen’s island. “It's almost impossible to hide such sensitive information.”

   Jace just nods as he stared into Hugo’s eyes, and just looked at his draconic visage in general. He appeared so nonchalant, so calm, and his face seemed to look more tender the longer he looked at Jace. 

   “I'm… still trying to process this,” Jace began leaning onto the counter behind him. “How the heck did you get that… thing that transformed you into this, Hugo…?”

   “I'd like to start by saying I go by Ophion now. In truth I was trying to find an adequate gift for this coming Valentine's Day,” Ophion began to recount. “I found an interesting antique's store a few days back and decided to pay a visit today. Although in truth it seems that place is some kind of front for magical artifact vending but well…” a somber look formed on his face as he took hold of the necklace’s egg and held it into view. “Truthfully I've always felt like an inadequate lover to you. I was hoping to get you something that'd prove myself, and perhaps make up for my lackluster approach to our relationship. Once I picked up the Celestial Egg it resonated with my desires and made me into this. Transformed me physically, mentally…”

   The dragon leaned a little closer, a fervorous look in his eyes. “Perhaps it even deepened my love for you…”

   Jace let out a sharp exhale, then stepped forward to gently caress Ophion’s face. “Hu- Ophion. You don't have to give me some trinket to prove your love to me. And truthfully for me, I never found you lackluster at all! Perhaps a little neurotic but, you were always still a wonderful person…”

   He then gave the dragon a kiss on the snout.

   “...but I should really ask if you feel better about yourself?”

   “I do,” the dragon confessed. Ophion lifted his head out of Jace’s grasp and straightened himself up. His form from the waist up was visible from behind the kitchen island: strong muscles, glistening scales, those weird crystals embedded in his body. Jace couldn't even help but give a glance at Ophion’s wings, the man wincing at the thought of having to suddenly grow those. Nonetheless, the golden reptilian had a certain confident aura that Hugo seemed to always have trouble mustering.

   “I can't say I'm the same person I was as a human,” Ophion admitted. “The way this Egg works, it put so much into me to make me fit an identity I desired. But I will also admit a fraction of that was because I wanted to be able to better show how much I love you, my love~”

   “I don't think you had to change yourself into a literal dragon to show how much you love me,” Jace said with a laugh. “I'm glad you're happy though. I will admit I'm getting used to being called your love, it's so dignified!”

   He then paused. “Now how will we explain to the landlord that my boyfriend has become a real life scalie…”

   Ophion let out a hearty laugh. “We don't need to deal with that now…” he then walked around the counter to properly stand near Jace. “It's just me and you, today~”

   Ophion then brought Jace into a warm embrace. This mostly meant Jace was being pressed up into the dragon's meaty pecs as he was put into a hug. It made the man blush a bit…

   “Now then…” Ophion’s voice lowers to a whisper, and Jace could feel himself being lifted. “How about I show you how a universe can be made…?”

   Jace raised a brow. “What's that supposed to mean?”

   Ophion just chuckled, and Jace turned his head and found himself being moved out of the kitchen. It took a few more seconds for him to fully register what was about to happen as he realized they were moving into a hallway, and everything finally clicked.

   They were heading to the bedroom…

[worriedvision]

“I’m a lover, not a fighter” - Alhaitham

Fluff to angst, happy valentines day lol. Gender neutral reader.

He was a much better lover than anyone could ever fully credit him for, you realised when you started dating him. You didn’t argue, Alhaitham always being reasonable with you. He also knew when you were just wanting to rant, not necessarily wanting feedback, and over time he figured out exactly what treats to give you when you were particularly down. If you forgot to get him something he was needing while you went to the shops, he didn’t snap at you - he simply said he would go along the next day himself to get said item. He wasn’t one for enjoying arguments, especially because communication is key to a working relationship.

It was going so well for you both. You were incredibly lucky to have him, and he was always able to show you he wasn’t settling for you. It was one where people were, admittedly, jealous. Valentines day was coming up, and you made the effort of getting the date sorted out while Alhaitham continued with his work as the acting grand sage. The day before your date, you were having coffee with your friend.

“Hey, you know how you guys fight? You never seem to show any bad feelings in public, how do you guys do it?” Your friend sighs, taking a sip of their coffee.

“We don’t really fight, exactly. I always find we just talk, and any issues get resolved long before they happen. Heck, even the times I do something silly, he doesn’t even get angry - he simply resolves it.” You state.

“...How do you know this is going to work out between you two? I mean, I’ve heard from a love expert that-”

“The self-certified love expert that’s not in a relationship?” You raise a brow, drinking your coffee.

“Listen, just go along to them and ask if it’s normal and healthy for you two to not be arguing.” Your friend asks. You knew your friend would find out if you didn’t, and you were confident your relationship was going very well, so you figure a small conversation with this person you don’t know is not going to affect that.

--

“Oh dear, you haven’t fought once in your months of dating this man? Not even once?” The love expert states. “I think you need to talk to your lover about why you never fight. After all, part of relationships is the fights and resolution of such things.” 

“But what do I ‘start a fight’ about?” You ask, the love expert smirking at you.

“Ask him about why you never fight like the countless couples you see.” They state. Now racked with uncertainty, you decide to go along to do this. You figured Alhaitham would reassure you that the fighting isn’t necessary, and that he can control his anger enough to prevent any fighting.

Unfortunately, Alhaitham does not take your questioning very well at all.

--

“...Are you expecting this relationship to be a copy of the relationships you see break apart?” Alhaitham asks. “The reason I do not start fights is, frankly, because there are much better things to get frustrated over than small things that can be solved easily.”

You stay silent, an awkward aura resonating in the room as you hear his roommate awkwardly call out to say he’s going to leave the house for a while.

“Were you wanting me to have a full blown argument with you, _?” Uh oh, that wasn’t a good sign. Alhaitham got into the habit of using cute nicknames with you, and he just called you by your name as if you were no longer his. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

You still stay silent, trying to figure out what you could say to apologise to him for stupidly following some strangers advice to ‘confront’ him on why he never fought with you. 

“I didn’t expect you to compare us to other couples. Am I filling in a spot for you?” Alhaitham asks. Before you can immediately reassure him you weren’t actively thinking there was something wrong with your relationship until the talk with the love expect, he turns his back on you. “I’m afraid this is over. I do not have the energy to add fuel to this pointless line of argument.”

“Honey, wait! I can explain!” You beg, Alhaitham walking towards the front door.

“I saw you talking to that so-called ‘love expert’, you know? It told me everything I needed to know.” Alhaitham states, opening the door. “When we next see each other in public, do me a favour and don’t interact with me.”

The walk out of the house was horrible, and walking to the restaurant didn’t help whatsoever. You cancelled your booking with teary eyes, and the host softly apologised to you for what had clearly recently happened. Because of a silly mistake, you were now unhappily single. 

And of course it was on valentines day of all days.

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

The Most Precious Thing In The World

Gale x OC!Tav

Genre: Fluff

A/N: this is a one-shot inspired by my ongoing run in Baldur's Gate 3 and the new epiloge that's been added to the game. @wolfhunter89 gave me the idea for this piece, so thank you bestie! This is not an x Reader one-shot, so if you do not like this sort of content, go ahead and click off of this post. Summer was my very first D&D character and I am currently playing as her in my BG3 run. She is a tiefling sorceress.

Summer would usually never find herself inside a classroom. She believes she has endured enough boring lectures as a child, way back when she still lived in Ferox with her parents and all the kids her age had to attend the local school. She can hardly remember any of the notions she was supposed to learn, unsurprisingly, and in the past she has vowed to never set foot in another one of these places ever again. Despite all that, she couldn't be more excited to be here, right now.

She feels a little bit silly sitting among all these young, aspiring, bright-eyed wizards that are simply hanging from their mentor's lips, hungry for knowledge, while she is simply here for... well, their mentor.

Gale's voice is clear and passionate as usual while he explains a concept that seems to fill him with enthusiasm and fascination. She's always liked his voice, since the very beginning, even though at first she often found it difficult to grasp what exactly he was saying, with all the embellished words he would use and the poetical way in which he would speak. She wouldn't change it for the world.

She can't believe it took her so long to finally attend one of his lectures. It's already been, what, eight months since their adventure ended and she accompanied him back to Waterdeep as his bride-to-be? Granted, she had her plate full with having to find an occupation for herself and... slowly getting used to life in her new home. After all, Summer is a free spirit, an adventurer at heart. Settling down was never really in her plans, especially after the Jaime fiasco, so naturally she needed time to adjust.

For a while she was worried she would wake up one day, realize she made a huge mistake and answer the adventurer's call, inevitably breaking Gale's heart... but it never happened. Instead, she found herself looking forward to her return home each time she embarked on a mission for the guild, whether it brought her outside of Waterdeep... or barely outside her own neighborhood. It soon became clear that whatever happened during her travels through Faerûn changed her, that Gale had a positive influence on her and that perhaps she, as well, had a positive influence on him.

None of the letters sent to Arwen since they parted ways expressed grievances over her companion, something that would instead frequently happen when Jaime was still around. She's simply, completely, absolutely in love with him, and seeing him right now in front of his students and looking so happy just... makes her feel at peace with the world.

She remembers laughing when he first came home to tell her he would start teaching, because she couldn't think of any other profession that was so... Gale. It filled her heart with content and enthusiasm, even though she couldn't quite understand why at the time. She has never felt like this for anyone in her life. She could understand the desire for connection, but being so fully invested in someone else that suddenly their victories become your own? That each and every small detail about them suddenly feels like the most precious thing in the world? That their happiness and well-being become your main goal in life? That was all unknown to her, until the day she met him.

She can't believe how quick she fell, and yet it only makes sense to her. Any other outcome seems absurd now. Since the very first day he managed to charm her, and not even once has he overstepped her boundaries or disrespected her. Not even once has he judged her for her less than ideal control of her magic, despite him being such a formidable wizard. He shared every part of himself with her and in turn she did the same with him, and they both moved forward together, grew together... broke each other free from their shackles. She can no longer imagine a life without him.

It is while she is lost in these musings, that the voice she loves oh so much suddenly pulls her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

“Pardon the long wait, I must've gotten carried away there,” he chuckles to himself, slightly swinging his arms in a sheepish manner.

With a quick look around her, Summer realizes that the lecture must've come to an end while she was so deep in thought. She can't help but smile when she brings her gaze back towards Gale and her heart almost blooms in her chest. He raises a quizzical brow at her, clearly amused by her seemingly exaggerated reaction at his presence. “What is it?” he asks.

She gets up from her seat, tail swinging happily from side to side as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his in a kiss that catches him by surprise.

“I'm proud of you.”

[crystalromana]

Apocryphia Bipedium- Ian Potter

[FIXED THE WONKY MOBILE EDITING. >.< IT LOOKED FINE ON DESKTOP]

[I am obsessed with this short trip so I had to bring it to Tumblr. Yes I did just copy and paste this page by page out of the pdf and formatted it. I think about it all the time. Anyway.

Apocrypha Bipedium takes place in the gap between Time of the Daleks and Neverland. Enjoy]

A Suggestive Correlation of The Cressida Manuscripts with other Anomalous Texts of the Pre-Animarian Era as proposed for Collective Consideration by Historiographic Speculator Anctloddoton.

In my selection and placement of the following extracts from the literature of the extinct worlds, I have attempted to draw suggestive parallels between some of the Problem Texts of the humanoid cultures. Obviously, the records of those times are now so fragmentary that any conclusions we draw from the surviving evidence must remain speculative. We cannot know what evidence we are missing, thus the linking of events posited by the presentation of these documents must remain a tentative hypothesis at best.

HS A From The Primary Cressida Document – Suppressed Texts of the Vatican Library, A Mysteria Press Original, 2973 CE.

The past is another country, the Doctor used to say. By which I suppose he meant it’s a nice place to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there, and you can have real problems with customs when you arrive.

I grew up in the future myself, which makes living in the past tricky at times. Liverpool was a great place to grow up if you were into the past though. It was full of it; the Campus Manor theme park, the castle, the Beatles Memorial Theatre, The Saint Francis of Fazakerley Museum, the Carl Jung Dream Tour, Post-Industrial Land and all those cathedrals, you were tripping over history everywhere. Mummy’s parents came from there too, so it was practically like we knew reallife olden days people.

It was much better than Liddell Towers where we lived in New London – most of the history near there seemed to be about some silly girl who’d let a professor of sums take photos of her and fell down a rabbit hole, or about those awful Daleks wiping out Southern England with mines and things. Much duller and hardly any variety in the rides at all.

Here in the actual olden days there’s not much past anywhere, just loads of future, and the rides are even less fun, all carts and donkeys and hardly any roads. We’re moving again, you see, dear diary. Even though the conquering Greeks don’t really seem to want to colonise any of Asia Minor themselves they don’t seem to want any Trojans settling back down anywhere round here either. They’ve occupied what’s left of the city, I suspect mainly so Menelaus can find all the expensive bits of Helen’s jewellery she seems to have mislaid, and seem keen we don’t hang about too nearby. Mymiddon Hoplites apologetically move us on now and again, clearly wondering when they can decently be allowed back home to start fighting amongst themselves again, and so we pack up and move. Some of their chaps are still feeling rather tetchy for no good reason apparently. Troilus says there’s a silly rumour going around that some terrible woman, probably a goddess, went around whipping up aggression amongst the Greeks a few years ago by magic, leaving marks on their necks that mean they can’t calm down!

It doesn’t make any sense to me. I think I might just be getting the cleaned up version of a soldier’s tale actually. I think that happens with me a lot. People treat me like a silly little girl sometimes, which isn’t really fair when I come from the future and know all sorts of things they don’t. I’m an adult now, even if not being born yet does make me about minus four thousand officially.

I don’t think Agamemnon’s Greeks really know what to do now to be honest, and after a decade’s anticipation I don’t think the trade routes or the princess they were sacking Troy to get are quite as good as they were hoping. I think they’re just hanging around stopping us settling down and looking for lost costume jewellery until they can think of something better to do. Some of the Ithacans are moaning it’ll be another decade before any of them get home at this rate. Bless them.

Running out of room, dear diary. Will write more when I have some new goats’ hides.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It! The True Confessions of a Ka Faraq Gatri not just written for the money when trapped on a primitive planet and needing cash to buy parts by ‘Snail’, Boxwood Books, 300 AGB.

Of course the hairy kangaroo had been at the mind rubbers and didn’t even realise the sword was there! How we laughed. Terrible namedropper, Zodin, but worth her weight in soufflé all the same

Naturally enough, mention of name-dropping reminds me of another anecdote, this one relating to dear old Bill Shakespeare, one of the finest writers and most atrocious spellers of any age. I’ve met him several times now and hope to again if I ever get off this pre-warp- engineering dustball. The last time was during that sticky business with poor Kitty Marlowe and those Psionovores from Neddy Kelley’s old scrying glass that I related in Chapter 9, but perhaps our most awkward misadventure together was the time I introduced him to some of his own characters, who included, as it happened, a dear, dear friend of mine.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress by Charlotte Elspeth Bollard, Library of Kar-Charrat. The work, having suffered some worm damage in the Great 2107 AD Cock Up, is presented here in the Elgin decorruption.

Travelling with Wilf and the Doctor was a curious experienced already felt somewhat out of sorts with time, having discovered my very existence was making history split in two, but sharing a home with a boy from the 16th Century and a man who seemed to come from nowhere so much as his own imagination, merely heightened my feeling that I no longer belonged to any era.

We three fellow time travellers had so very little in common beyond having all read the plays the boy had not yet written that the small talk had been small indeed, and, after a few days of the Doctor failing to get Wilf home, the atmosphere had become a little tense.

Wilf, it further transpired, had difficulty reading anything written in more modern Anglish than his own, which meant there had been little of a literary nature to distract him during his sojourn with us once he had read and re-read the Doctor’s picture books about Frinchs, Sneetches, Ooblecks and Cats in Hams.

Thankfully, towards the end of Wilf’s stay with us the Doctor had discovered a futuristic version of Lido called Peter Pan Pop-O-Matic Frustration that we could enjoy playing together and those last long hibiscus-scented afternoons in his music room passed pleasantly enough, without young Wilf having to constantly relate the escapades of besocked foxes to us.

The Doctor always won our games, usually coming from behind implausibly late in the day, and nearly always using some devious subterfuge to gain victory. Indeed, it was observing the childlike joy on the Doctor’s face at his underhand triumphs on the Peter Pan Pop-O-Matic Frustration board that I first realised just how much of Peter there was in his nature. Naturally, we loved him enough to pretend not to notice his cheating (I sometimes think the whole universe did) and at times towards the end we three had so much fun that I almost forgot I was a paradox, unpicking creation like Penelope at her tapestry in the heroic age we had just left.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur – works attributed to William Shakespeare collated by Heinrich Von Berlitz and Leopold Kettlecamp, Ampersand and Ampersand, 85 AH.

This passage from The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy – fragmentary foul papers of a naive work once attributed to the very young Shackspur, is worth quoting in full.

Act 2, Scene 1. A room within the box. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow and Young Will.

Doct. Here at last! Our journey finally through. In fifteen hundred and seventy two. Young Will, regard the ceiling viewing dome – Stratford on Avon, the Hathaway home.

Will. But sir, on those bare hills, no swarths do roll. And no houses nestle ’twixt those craggy knolls – The sun burns with a fierce un-English light And that beach there is not a Warwick sight! That’s not Stratford displayed above us

Char. – Lest the Avon’s turn’d to sea, ’Od love us!

Many scholars have disputed the authenticity of this piece of alleged Shackspurian juvenilia, pointing out, fairly, that it does appear to be the only one of his extant works that the Bard biroed in a twentieth-century school jotter otherwise festooned in swirly ink blots and doodled hexagons. However, if Shackspur did travel in Time, as several scholars suggest, this objection falls away. A more compelling argument for its inauthenticity is the verse style, experimenting uniquely within the Shackspurian canon with strict iambic pentameter composed entirely in rhyming couplets. Whilst dreadful, it is nothing like as appalling as that in Shackspur’s earliest known adult writing

***

From Tales from the Matrix – True Stories from TARDIS Logs Retold for Time Tots by Loom Auntie Flavia, Panopticon Press, 6833.8 Rassilon Era. Part of the Wigner Heisenberg Collection, The Mobile Library, Talking Books Section. Location currently uncertain.

The Doctor flicked the temporal stabiliser off and pulled down the transitional element control rod taking him out of the Vortex. Quite the wrong way to actualise and quadro-anchor even a Type 40 Time Capsule, isn’t it? Exiting the interstitial continuum at the perihelion of a temporal ellipse can cause serious buffering in your harmonic wave packet transference and sever your main fluid links, can’t it?

‘Here we are, Stratford on Avon, 1572!’ announced the Doctor proudly and wrongly. If he’d ever bothered to use his Absolute Tesseractulator to pinpoint his dimensional locations he wouldn’t have made these kind of mistakes, of course, but the Tesseractulator had never come out of its box, had it?

Charlotte Pollard, the Doctor’s friend, came over to him and flicked on the ceiling scanner.

A friend’s an Earth thing. It’s a bit like having a colleague or fellow student you co-operate with, but without any exams or project targets at the end to make the co-operation meaningful. There was a fashion for having them on Gallifrey at one time, ask some of your older cousins about it, they might remember.

Charlotte squinted at the view outside. It didn’t look like the Stratford she’d visited, with neither alien enslavers nor half timbered tea shops anywhere in sight. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

‘Positive. Ish,’ replied the Doctor. William Shaxsberd, a young man they’d promised to drop off in 1572, put down his coloured crayons and came to join them.

‘It does not look much as it once did, Doctor,’ said William, looking at the ceiling and cricking his neck.

The Doctor followed suit. The dustbowl outside was certainly not Warwickshire in any era he’d visited, ‘No. Indeed not,’ he admitted. ‘I think the rift in the Vortex is introducing a random element into my calculations.’

Do you remember the rift in the Vortex, from last time? That’s right, the Doctor made that too! It was due to the paradoxical interaction of two paravertical chronostreams further complicated by three retro- temporal augmented causal feedback loops, wasn’t it?

‘Another random element?’ asked Charlotte, ‘More random than the way you play “eeny meeny miney mo” with the buttons?’

‘Ha, Charley,’ said the Doctor. ‘Tres amusent.’

Charlotte turned to William to explain, ‘That’s French, Will, for “I’ve been banged to rights, Miss Pollard”,’ she said.

‘I somehow knew,’ William replied.

‘Really?’ asked Charlotte. ‘How?’

‘It’s a Time Lord gift, Charley,’ said the Doctor, ‘and yes it would be awfully de trop to ask how it works.’ Or at least that’s whatCharlotte thought he said. William heard something quite different of course.

Well, let’s get out there then,’ said the Doctor, opening the doorswithout taking any proper readings.

‘Er, why?’ asked Charlotte.

‘Because until we know how far out the rift has shunted us in spaceand time we won’t know how to get to Stratford, 15 diddlydiddly...’explained the Doctor, waving his hand vaguely as he searched hismemory for the end of the four digit number he’d lost interest in.

‘Seventy-two,’ prompted William.

‘The very same.’ The Doctor beamed, ruffling the young man’s hair in a way that, thanks to the TARDIS telepathic circuits alone, seemed endearing rather than insufferable and over familiar.

William and the Doctor headed for the doors. Charlotte was troubled though.

‘Won’t my temporal instability cause untold problems to wherever we are?’ she asked, quite sensibly, all things considered.

‘Oh, very probably, I expect,’ replied the Doctor airily, ‘but if you spent your whole life worrying about the consequences of your actions you’d never get anything done and the consequences of that would be unthinkable, wouldn’t they? Faint heart never bowled a maiden over,you know.’

Charlotte scowled. ‘Mind,’ added the Doctor as he stepped out of the control room, ‘neither did Katie “the Beast” Davies, if I remember my22nd-century Wisden correctly.’

That was an allusion to the Earth game Cricket, wasn’t it? It was the Earth’s planetary sport, despite the fact that humans were the worst players of it in the galaxy if you remember.‘

Doctor, I find your words confusing,’ said William as he followed him out.‘It’s a Time Lord gift, Will,’ Charlotte whispered. ’You’ll get used to it.’

* * *

From The Primary Cressida document

New hides! This keeping a journal business is awfully tricky when you’ve no paper around, but before mummy died, she did make me promise I’d write one when I eventually settled down. It’s a family tradition that’s been handed down for generations apparently, not that I ever saw mummy’s.

Anyhow, Troilus is still very eager to settle soon, but where? I’ve ruled out going east to the Holy Land because from what I remember from history and my travels we’ll get no peace there and the rest of the Med and Adriatic has already been bagsied. Troilus reckons Aeneas will have already have set up somewhere by now and we should have gone off on his boat when we had the chance. I just nod, and try to explain wave particle duality to the little ones.

I have a vague feeling I learned something about Aeneas from the UK-201’s didactomat box way back in the future. I think he ended up with Dido in Carthage for a bit, which confuses me because I thought Dido’s music was Late Classical, which must be after this period, surely. I’m sketchy on the details to be honest. I only remember it was Dido and not Sister Bliss because the planet we crashed into on the way to Astra was named after her.

Funny thinking about Dido, that was the place I’ve called home longest in recent years. I’ve been a nomad a while really – split between London and Liverpool as a girl, never knowing whether to talk posh and southern or not, emigrating to off-Earth with daddy, hopping about through Time with the Doctor, and now traipsing around Turkey with Troilus and his mates before its even called that or has any tourist facilities to speak of. I think I must have ‘space travel in my blood’ as one of those Baroque composers put it!

I’ve been wondering when I should discover electricity and plumbing a bit recently, these fleeces don’t clean themselves like proper clothes, so the sooner we can invent the twin tub the better. Are we before or after that Monk who invented things too early here, I wonder? I don’t want to mess things up like he did, but I’m shocking on dates. I just paid attention to the stories in the history books really, not the order they happened in. If I’d known the way round history went was going to be important I would have had the machine teach me it. Of course, as a child you never expect all that history around you is going to run away into the future like it has, do you? I’ve decided I’ll probably start with a steam engine and see if that messes up my memory of the future. The way I see it, it’ll be impossible for me to invent anything that’ll stop me being born so I can’t do too much harm.

I casually suggested making things out of iron the other day, which I know is a big step forward but everyone just laughed. Too brittle and hard to work compared to bronze or tin, they said. I suppose they’re right. You have to do something to it to make it strong, I remember that. I just don’t remember what that something is. For all I know my quad physics equations and could still compose a cogent analygraphfor the fall of the Mallatratt Protectorate, I’m a bit rusty on a few of the basics. Going to take us years to get garlic bread and sound radio at this rate.

Of course, I had a bit of training for life without the mod cons on Dido, so I can cope, but what makes things really fiddly at the moment is that my future’s past is catching up with my present, which is complicated enough to write down, let alone experience.

We’ve just bumped into the Doctor as a young man, and I’m sure it’s really bad form for me to let on I recognise him when as far as he’s concerned he’s not met me yet.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

My plan was pretty much the usual one, to go out and see if we could find out the year and our whereabouts in a way that wouldn’t arouse any suspicions, and then hang around until nightfall to get a better fix from the position of the stars. It may sound dull but I’ve found if I do that I usually find something or other to get embroiled in before sunset.

We stepped circumspectly out of the Ship and set off in search of the nearest habitation, ready as ever to improvise any number of cover stories to explain our presence and strange garb. As luck would have it we soon ran into one of the locals, and were able to subtly winkle out the info we needed on route to his encampment.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

People say you should never look back of course, advice we’ve been ignoring since Orpheus and EuroDisney, but I can’t help thinking that if the Doctor hadn’t landed us in the aftermath of the Trajan War a lot of that beastly business with the Time Lords might have been avoided later.

As usual the Doctor rejoiced in dropping straight into the middle of things without a moment’s forethought. Impossible, exasperating man,I tried to protest but somehow he just brushed my complaints away with a smiled shouldn’t have let him, but he did have such a lovely smile.

* * *

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 3, Scene 2. Another part of the hillside. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow and Young Will.

Doct. Yoohoo! Mister Goatboy, excuse me please, Could you tell me what time and place is this? Char. Discreet as ever.

Enter a Goatherd.

Doct. Yes, but awfully brave. Young man, there is information we crave. What land is this and what year are we in? We’ve lost track of both in our travelling.

Char. Oh I give up, you’re so inconsistent.

Doct. Just smile prettily, act like an assistant.

Char. But I never know what trick you’ll pull next!

Doct. Just grit your teeth, smile and stick out your chest; Magic’s best tricks work by misdirection.

Char. So I’m just here to stir his –

Will. Affection?

Doct. Quite so Will, a pretty face inspires trust. True, I’m afraid, if not awfully just. This chap will tell us the time and the place And Presto well head straight back into Space!

Goat. Eleven eight three BC is the year This is Hisarlik in Anatolia. I expect you’re traders from Phoenicia To be garbed and garbling here so queer. You’ve been ship wreck’d and concuss’d I’ll be bound. Which’ll be why you have no goods around. We must offer you shelter at the least Pop back home with me and well have a feast.

Char. How can he know he lives before Our Lord?

Doct. It’s just a translation device that’s flaw’d. It’s an awfully clever mechanism But it causes the odd anachronism. Kind goatherd, we would love to share a meal And watch the evening stars above us wheel. For by such means we will precisely know Our station now and where we next must go. Exeunt Omnes.

From Tales from the Matrix

‘Do we really need to do this?’ asked Charlotte as the band trudged wearily after the herdsman in their impractical shoes, ‘Surely the date and location he’s given you is enough?’

‘Perhaps,’ the Doctor replied, ‘but studying the stars will allow me to be more accurate. Besides, I’m famished. We haven’t eaten for minus three thousand years, bear in mind.’

So the Doctor and his companions blithely headed off into further temporal confusion, unaware that the goatherd had seen the TARDIS arrive and knew full well who the Doctor was already.

There’s a lesson there for anyone who thinks it’s clever to keep their TARDIS in one form, don’t you think? The Ionic Column factory preset might look nice, for example, but when using it means every Grun, Za and Caius in the Cosmos knows who you are immediately, it rather defeats the point of a chameleon circuit.

From The Primary Cressida document

One of our herdsmen saw the TARDIS arrive in the next valley this afternoon and instantly recognised it as the mobile temple that had prefigured the city’s fall, and the Doctor as a younger version of the old man from my tales.

He sent his mate back to tell us so we all had time to prepare ourselves and could all pretend we believed the Doctor’s implausible story about being a trader from Phoenicia when he turned up an hour or so later.

It’s definitely him, probably about 40 years before we met. He dresses similarly, his hair is curlier and darker and his face looks a bit different, but the years are never kind, are they? Amazingly, he’s almost as vague as a young man as he was when old, if not quite so ummy and erry. I’d always assumed that was because he was getting on a bit.

Thankfully, no one here’s too thrown by the idea of time travellers after me relating all my adventures to them, though one of the boys did ask me why the Doctor didn’t walk and talk backwards when his past was in the future. I was very clear why not when I started explaining it, but I must admit I got a bit confused as I went along. He hasn’t recognised me of course, dear diary, and we’ve invited him and his friends to have tea tonight.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

Well, imagine my embarrassment when we arrived at the fellow’s encampment and who was in charge but my old friend Vicki (now calling herself Cressida of course) and her new husband Troilus, who I’d never actually met, due to quite heavy escaping commitments around the time they got together.

I realised with a start that young Bill Shakespeare was due to write a play about this couple in a few years, and that unless I was careful thismeeting would almost certainly be what inspired it, thus complicating Bill’s already tortuous history further and bringing yet another new paradox to mine. I’d only let Vicki go away with Troilus at Troy’s fall because once I heard she was calling herself Cressida I’d assumed it was predestined (well, I was young, I believed in that kind of thing), I knew there was a play about the couple by Shakespeare and thought I was helping history take its course by hitching them up. Now, if I’d only done that because my future actions would one day bring that play about, I’d accidentally made a big chunk of my past dependent on my future, which, as you know, isn’t really the accepted way of going about things.

I reasoned it was vital for the tidiness of the time line that I kept Bill from learning the background of Troilus and Cressida in any detail, ideally forgetting as much of their present as he could too.

To complicate matters further, Vicki had actually seen Bill as an adult on my time telly, the Time Space Visualiser. She was never the most historically careful of girls, and I feared that if she found out who he was, she’d probably tell him all about his future at the court of Elizabeth and getting the commission to write The Merry Wives of Windsor and the inspiration for Hamlet on the same day and how he’d sprained his wrist in his rush to write both.

All it might take, I thought, would be one slip from any one of us, accidentally mentioning the words TARDIS or Zeus Plug over dessert, say, and causality would be tangled up like President Pandak’s kittens in twine, quicker than you could explain what you pop in a Ganymede socket.

Luckily, it seemed Vicki hadn’t spotted how anachronistic our garb was and hadn’t realised I was her old friend, seeming to completely swallow my inventive tales of sea faring, despite Charley’s rather fanciful insertions about hook-handed pirates.

I had, of course, underestimated her, as a quick and entirely accidental glance at her diary before dinner proved. Not knowing I could regenerate, she had taken me for my young self in my first form and thought she was protecting me from foreknowledge!

This, of course, suited my purpose. All I reckoned I had to do now to save Time from chewing itself to bits was keep Will busy and make sure Vicki didn’t relate her history to any of us over dinner.

Oh what tangled webs we weave, when tidy temporal strands we try to leave.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

Mr and Mrs Troilus seemed a sweet couple, he a lanky chap with a curly beard and a well-meaning expression and she a rather enthusiastic young thing with big eyes, yet the Doctor had become rather shifty from the moment we met them. I knew he was preoccupied by something, but I had, at that time, no idea what. After some fun, improvising tales of derring-do on the high seas to prove our credentials as traders, he took me to one side and explained that I had to get Wilf as squiffy as possible at the feast that night for reasons it was simpler at that moment not to explain. He said history depended on me getting the boy so drunk he could neither speak nor remember his behaviour the next morning. I’m normally quite good at that kind of thing, it was hardly my fault the Bawd was a functioning alcoholic at the age of eight.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 4, Scene 1. An encampment in the mountains. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow, Young Will, a goatherd, Troilus, Cressida, divers villagers and guards severally.

Doct. Hello. (Aside) Her! ’Tis Vicki, I should have guess’d. I never with good geography was bless’d Hisarlik is the modern name for Troy. Quite a temporal tangle, boy oh boy! (To Cress.) Ha ha, my hearties! We here are sailors three. (Aside) I can but hope she does not see ‘tis me.

Cress. (Aside) Deceit upon deception! Can this be The Doctor who I first took it to be? Is this him when young as I assumed? Or must deeper deceit be presumed? I’ll play along until the truth I know. (To Doct.) Good mariners, welcome and hello.

Will. (To Char.) What’s this strange accented charade about?

Char. (To Will) Who knows, we’ll be, I bet, last to find out.

From Tales from the Matrix

Yes Time Tots, exactly! The first thing any of us would have done would have been to get out of there quickly before we compromised the causal nexus. Staying for tea and imbibing too much ethanol, which you’ll recall the Doctor had a particular weakness for on his mother’s side, doesn’t strike any of us as sensible!

From The Secondary Cressida document (a transcribed fragment allegedly found at a Church of Rome jumble sale) – Even More Suppressed Texts of the Vatican Library, A Hatper-Mysteria- Ellerycorp Press Original, 2977 CE

My ruse worked, the robot’s read my carefully exposed diary and thinks I suspect nothing! He’s so obviously not really the Doctor it’s not true, but he doesn’t know I know that yet, so we have the advantage. He’s definitely a Dalek robot double like that other one they sent after us.

They’ve probably made him the young Doctor this time to make it less obvious. He does look a bit like he could be him sometimes if you’re not paying attention, but if you look closely his face is all wrong and his voice goes a bit funny sometimes like that other robot’s did, almost doing my accent at times! I think he’s probably feeding on my jumbled memories or something.

We’ll overpower him and his companions at dinner tonight and destroy them, they won’t expect me to know how to deactivate them.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

I’ve always been keen on wine, particularly the heavier oaky reds, though I find there is a rather tiresome tendency for them to be drugged by villainous blackguards sometimes, rather impairing the subtleties of the flavour, but wine in the Homeric era was quite a different proposition. What can I tell you about it except that it tasted awful but did the job?

It wasn’t the heavily resinated stuff the Greeks later went in for, thankfully, nor indeed that watered-down muck the ancient Romans used to dish out at parties, but I think it’s telling that the most flattering thing Homer had to say about it in the whole of The Iliad was how like the sea it was in hue. When you bear in mind he was blind, you can tell he’d had to ask around a bit to find anyone with something positive to say about it.

The food wasn’t much better either. It can be terribly hard eating out when you travel like I do. These days at home, I generally try to eat only things that don’t have a central nervous system, or that I’ve knocked up in the food machine, but sometimes, when you’re a guest, qualms like that have to go out of the window, particularly on worlds ruled by intelligent plants, where you’re best advised not to ask for a celery stick and to just stick your toes in damp soil like everyone else at the table.

Even then I try to stick to my principles and not eat anything with a sense of self, parliamentary democracy or sultanas in it.

This dinner was a particularly awkward affair; Charley acting like a slightly sloshed pirate queen, Vicki acting like she didn’t know me, Bill acting up, singing lewd madrigals that officially weren’t due for invention yet in his rather reedy girlish voice, and all the while me worrying about causality falling apart around me rather too much to fully enjoy the dolmades.

Suddenly, half way through the proceedings, the impossible happened: it took a turn for the worse. Vicki shouted out ‘Now!’, and lunged at my chest and started tearing at my waistcoat.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

My recollections of the ensuing events are somewhat hazy; I had been struggling to match young Wilt measure for measure, you might say, when I saw the Doctor being attacked. I launched myself at his assailant and missed, I’m told, briefly losing my dignity and consciousness in the process.

A shocking melee ensued by all accounts, with Trajans tearing at our clothes with cutlery and all the usual business with tables being turned and the like breaking out; I’m only glad I can’t remember the full details, because what little I do makes me blush quite enough.

It’s quite possible I told someone I loved them, and was sick later too. I’ve never been brave enough to ask. The next thing I remember clearly was being in the main tent with the Doctor explaining a lot and me apologising a bit, just in case.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 5, Scene 2. At dinner beneath the stars.

Cress. Take that, false Doctor! But where are your wires? In sparks and puffs of smoke you should expire. Could it be that you are the Doctor true?

Char. Get your claws off him, he’s mine, you wild shrew!

Will. Oh, Pillicock sat on pillicock

Char. Will you stop that terrible singing, Will? The Doctor and I are under attack From this Troyan host, while you’re supping sack. Join in the scrap and cease your carousel Lewd songs, anyhow, douse all arousal.

Doct. Vicki, Will, Charley, all, put down those knives! You’re all making the mistakes of your lives.

Cress. Vicki, you say? You should not know that yet. If you’re the young Doctor, we’ve not yet met.

Doct. Vicki, the reason that I know your name Is that inwardly I am still the same Man who left you at Troy some years ago, I can change my looks, if you didn’t know. Char. Doctor, do you mean that you know this wench?

Doct. We travelled together many years hence. I think it’s time I explain’d the full truth Of why I’ve deceived you all, forsooth.

Will. If she’s an old friend then tell me why You did keep that fact from Charley and I?

Doct. This is an old friend, Will, but, what is worse, She features, in decasyllabic verse, In a drama that you shall one day pen That means I shall leave her with this Troyan, If you only write it because you’re here Chronological conundra appear. Effects and causes whirl and spin about, Go through the wringer and turn inside out. The egg that hatches out your chicken Does in that self same chicken thicken.

From Tales from the Matrix

Then in direct contravention of fifteen universal laws of Time and two local statutes, the Doctor sat down and explained everything that had happened, and, in explaining it, he brought all the things he was worried about happening that hadn’t into the open, didn’t he?

Of course, it turned out that some of the things he was worried about were of no concern at all, but as a result of relating them he brought worse problems about.

I expect most of you have read stories about the Doctor in other books, and I expect some of you think he’s quite clever, even though he breaks a lot of rules, don’t you? Well, you’re right! In a crisis, he’s just the kind of person you need around, he can come up with ideas almost no one else could. The only problem is, when you’re not having a crisis, he’s just the kind of person to cause one.

From The Primary Cressida document

How embarrassing. It turns out the Doctor was the Doctor after all, only older and with a new face for some strange reason. The girl who drinks too much is his latest companion and the little boy with the dirty songs and the voice like a girl is William Shakespeare! Nice enough lad, no wonder he ends up in the theatre with that voice though, perfect for all those drag roles they gave boys. We had a lovely chat about Dido and Aeneas and told each other about our scrapes with the Daleks, and I let slip the odd thing I knew about his future.

He’s told me we should go and settle in England. Apparently there’s an old book he’s read by a chap called Geoffrey that says relatives of Aeneas were the first Britons I think it’s a super idea, ’ I know Troilus will like it in England, and I think we’ve persuaded the Doctor too! Just think! could be one of my own ancestors passing on my secret diaries for years and years, a bit like mummy’s family did! How smashing would that be?

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

Of course I decided in the end that honesty would be the best policy and that as long as everyone knew the full facts, and swore not to be influenced by them, we could probably darn the hole in causality in such a way that it wouldn’t show. I sat everyone down in the central tent and explained. Well, what a Charlie I looked!

*** From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

Ridiculously, the Doctor had been worried about Wilf getting inspiration for the play Troilus and Cressida from meeting the real Troilus and Cressida! I protested that Wilf had already read his own plays in the future anyhow, but the Doctor countered that they’d have been corrupted playing texts and in a court of law it would be hard to prove that was down to him, whereas if Will had got any of the plot or characterisation directly through his adventures with us that was a bit more serious.

That was when Will started laughing.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Tray Act 5, Scene 4. A tent in the camp.

Will. But Doctor, I did not invent the tale Of Troilus and Cressida’s love that fail’d. Why, Geoffrey Chaucer told it years ago! I cannot believe that you did not know. Have you read even half of what you claim Or do you just like dropping well-known names? Cressida’s tale is part of tradition Not the result of my precognition Of future perfect past present events, If you will forgive me my mangled tense, And my quondumque futures version Should have put you off this girl’s desertion.

Char. You should have read your Brodie’s Notes on Will. The phantom threat you feared from his quill Was nothing but an insubstantial shade, And there’s a real spectre here I’m afraid. I’m half a ghost of Christmas yet to come, Remember, I’ve made history come undone. You’ve got paradoxes enough to be Getting on with, as far as I can see, So why do you search for new ones instead That only exist inside of your head?

Doct. If I had known the work of me laddo Would I have found menace in my shadow? I here resolve to watch much less TV And be the reader I do claim to be. For half my erudite orations Come straight from books of quotations.

From Tales from the Matrix

‘What was Helen of Troy actually like then?’ asked William Shaxberd as he helped himself to more wine.

‘Is,’ corrected the Doctor, prissily.

‘She’s a good egg by all accounts,’ said Vicki, politely not mentioning the fact she thought her looks had gone, ‘and Menelaus was happy enough to have her back, even after all the bother, so she must be quite nice when you get to know her, I suppose.’

‘Well, she would have to be a good egg really,’ said William, ‘Her father was a swan supposedly.’ Like most young human men of his generation, he knew the salacious bits of Greek Mythology surprisingly well.

‘Half human on his mother’s side?’ smiled the Doctor, thinking himself clever. ‘Aren’t we all?’

‘No, just men,’ said Charlotte through a falafel.

‘She has two birthdays they say, one when the egg came out of her mother and another when it hatched,’ Troilus revealed, leaning forward over the table and whispering in that conspiratorial manner people sometimes do when divulging well known but dubious trivia.

‘It would have been an easy birth if she was born an egg,’ said Vicki ruefully, one hand on her stomach.

‘An easy lay, you mean,’ William corrected.

‘So Paris said –’Troilus began, his eyes a twinkle.

He was shouted down by his wife seconds later, barrack room tale untold, and one of those awkward silences ensued that dinner party guests in all cultures and times know only too well.

‘Have you actually read Troilus and Cressida, Doctor?’ asked Charlotte a little later.

‘You ask me, who had a hand in some of Shakespeare’s finest work – who put the mixed metaphor in the “To be or not to be” soliloquy, who hired the bear for The Winter’s Tale, and who really shouldn’t have passed on the story of A Midsummer’s Night Dream, if I’ve read Troilus and Cressida?’ replied the Doctor, rather over-egging it in that way he usually did when he was on the defensive.

‘Yes!’ they cried as one.

‘Well, no,’ admitted the Doctor. ‘It’s supposed to be one of the better ones, and well, you know, I’ve been busy. I’ve still not managed to tune the Time Space Visualiser in to catch all of The Golden Girls and I’ve been trying for decades.’

‘She doesn’t end up with Troilus in it, she ends up with Diomede, andit’s set during the war not after it!’ said Charlotte patiently.

‘Diomede! That was Steven!’ Vicki laughed.The Doctor looked confused. ‘Vicki and Steven were just friends,weren’t you? Just the odd haircut and getting locked up together, Ithought.’

‘Yes, that’s right, how many times do we have to go through that?’Vicki explained, giving a petulant Troilus a peck on the cheek.

‘Well the legend must have got a bit confused by the time it gotwritten down I think Chaucer got it from a foreign book,’ said William,draining his goblet.

The Doctor beamed, thinking he’d got away with his tinkering again.‘So Troilus and Cressida weren’t predestined after all!’ he said

‘Well, only because of your lack of reading,’ snorted Charlotte.

‘Oh that is a relief,’ said the Doctor taking the wine jug from William and helping himself without asking.

‘Now what about this business of giving us charts to help us reach this Britain young Will spoke of?’ asked Troilus, passing the Doctor a goat’s cheese nibble.

‘I really shouldn’t,’ explained the Doctor. ‘If you go there, on the basis of the frankly dubious history of Geoffrey of Monmouth then Vicki is in danger of becoming one of her own descendants, which is at least as badas the things I’ve been trying to prevent all day.’

‘Oh go on Doctor, please!’ begged Vicki. ‘We could mine tin in Cornwall and I’d promise not to invent anything I shouldn’t as long as I lived, not even roller skates!’

‘I don’t think I should. I’ve made enough of a mess looking after young Charley here, the repercussions of me sending you to Britain because the unborn Shakespeare suggested it could be horrendous,’ said the Doctor, finally being responsible for once in his lives.

‘Oh go on Doctor, I’m unborn too, remember, so that shouldn’t matte rmuch,’ said Vicki.

‘And I’m only half here,’ said Charlotte grimly ‘Why stop messing about now? You should have stayed at home watching these Golden Girls of yours if you weren’t prepared to get involved in real people’s lives. They’re messy and not always in the order you’d like and sometimes too short, and they’re not always better for having you in them, but you either face that or hide away somewhere, don’t you?

’The Doctor kissed her.

‘What was that for?’ asked Charlotte.

‘To shut you up,’ he said. He tapped Vicki on the nose and smiled,’Come on, let’s carry on the party, and in the morning, when rosy-fingered Dawn has done her bit, we’ll sort out a good map of Europe for the Trojans and get them started on their boats. Any consequences which haven’t happened yet we can worry about later!’

Some of you will be shocked at just how naughty the Doctor was in this story: jeopardising the stability of all those will-have-might-have-been futures out there depending on him by interweaving all those strands of destiny connected to the Dalek race and all on the basis of a whim.

The Doctor already knew Dalek causality was partially snagged in a loop in Time and his friend was the focus of a temporal anomaly, but of course he had spent a jolly long time in the Vortex, hadn’t he? That meant his causal connections to events future, past and maybe- somehow were a great deal more jumbled up than most people’s and he was quite good at judging just how likely to snaggle the Web of Time his whims might be.

Or so he thought.

The Doctor believed in two very wrong things you see; firstly, in something he called personal morality that he thought was more important than doing the things simply everyone knows are right, and secondly, that he was cleverer than everyone else and could always sort things out.

He deserved what happened to him next, didn’t he?

Document from the Braxiatel Collection Shakespearean Ephemera wing, a note found in the effects of William Shakespeare by literary assessor Porlock. It is not believed to be in Shakespeare’s hand though it bears some graphological similarities to the disputed Scarlioni Hamlet manuscript.

List of things not to mention

The Daleks,

That you’ve met me before when we meet next (because you didn’t mention it last time, you know),

That you’ve read half your plays already

That I wrote all the good bits in Hamlet, [‘good bits’ later amended to ‘rubbish bits’ in a different hand]

The idea of cigars (until Raleigh gets back from abroad),

That cigars will end up named after some of your characters,

That someone called Raleigh will go abroad,

That Troilus and Cressida had a lovely marriage and lived happily ever after in Mousehole, no matter how the story goes in Chaucer,

Oh, the places you’ve gone and the things that you’ve seen

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Room/character closeup #2 (going in order from most to least popular based on the poll)

~Eddie & Steve's room~

Edit bc I accidentally posted this before I meant to: spoilers ahead for my full house au, as can be expected

Did you notice the pattern on the rug bc it's important to me that you notice the pattern on the rug I spent a good bit of time searching for this one specific rug guys I'm serious about this. Is it incredibly dark humor? Yes. But it is humor nonetheless

Anyway

One of my first priorities/things I took into consideration when working on this room was that I didn't want it to be too bright or have any sort of potentially eyestrain-y patterns. Steve has suffered repeated head trauma and I wanted his room to be a safe space where he doesn't have to worry about triggering a migraine or fucking with his vision or getting dizzy just from his surroundings. Hence why they have a darker, more subdued palette than most of the other rooms (which I guess you don't know yet since this is only the second one I've shown you but just trust me on this)

Beyond that, I admittedly had a pretty difficult time trying to figure out what I could do that I felt like both Steve and Eddie would vibe with decor-wise while still being a cohesive theme

Didn't want it to lean too far either way into metalhead freak or preppy golden boy territory, and besides I do think Steve's whole aesthetic isn't entirely his own and is at least partly influenced by the expectations placed on him, so I tried to go for a fairly neutral sort of vibe here

For some reason I settled on some blue jean lookin ass wallpaper, a rug patterned with the our-dimension-version of the critters that very nearly took their lives, and a few choice items to put on the walls

First off, the ship painting

This was sort of an unexpected last minute addition, partially bc I thought it looked nice with the rest of the room and partially as a character reflection

I wholeheartedly believe that Eddie Munson would fucking love anything pirate related, he probably was a pirate for Halloween at least once growing up, and he just thinks sailing ships are super cool. Plus the painting just felt like it would appeal to a fantasy nerd lol (it reminded me of the chronicles of Narnia actually but that's not really important)

And as for Steve, at least in this au but I know I'm not the only one who thinks so, he really likes water. Being in it, on it, around it- he likes swimming (refer back to his noted complicated feelings about the pool from my basement post), he likes the beach, he likes the ocean, and he likes sailing. He hasn't been many times but I'd totally buy the Harringtons having been on a yacht or some shit at one point or another. This character note may or may not be related to both his job at scoops ahoy* and him being on the swim team in high school, which is one of those things that at this point I honestly don't know if it was at all canon or if it's just one of those headcanons that become so popular in fandom that it feels that way, and at this point I can't be bothered to fact check it

*I think either he had a prior interest in sailing-related stuff and that was part of what initially drew him to that job specifically, or that working there sparked an interest which only grew with time, like maybe some of the silly slogans and terms used in ice cream flavors and maybe even the uniform stirred his curiosity/memories of going out on the water with his folks during the summers before they decided he was old enough to be left home alone for weeks at a time, and he started looking into actual sailing and found out he really liked it. (He can't stand the uniforms now though bc they trigger traumatic flashbacks, for both him and Robin)

Next, the bass/electric guitar on the wall, which I feel is pretty self explanatory honestly. It's Eddie's (although he does offer to teach Steve how to play- haven't decided yet whether Steve takes him up on that)

And then there's the horses (photo? painting?)

This is where the whole "horse girl eddie munson" thing came from; the whole idea was initially born of me trying to decide what I could put on their wall, liking this poster and asking myself if Steve and Eddie struck me as people who were into horses. As it turns out the answer was "hell yeah" and it spiraled into an entire fic idea of its own, which can be found here. As for this au, the background of them both having a "horse girl" phase/being into the idea of cowboys is still a thing, but obviously it doesn't progress the same way as that did (steddie cowboys my beloved but these particular multiverse variants are stuck playing house with their traumatized found family and slowly realizing that they actually enjoy co-parenting >:3 and this way everyone gets to stay together)

Also, speaking of the steddie cowboys thing this inspired, Eddie is trans in the full house au but Steve is a cis man (unlike in the other au). However Steve does have some gender moments here and there, like the kids "jokingly" calling him mom and him lowkey vibing with it (oh no I'm already doubting my ability to stick to the Steve being cis plan- bigender Steve agenda where did you come from??)

But yeah basically both of them are secretly horse nerds lol and that's something they discover while they're arguing over how to decorate (aka when they agree on this poster) and end up bonding over

And now for a note about their placement in the house (specifically who they share a floor with)

I've already explained that/why I wanted them on the same floor as Dustin Lucas & Erica, although I don't think I mentioned that Lucas and Steve are really close in this au* and it goes without saying that Dustin is super close with both of them

*it just feels right to me; also Steve was the only one of his friends to come watch his basketball game and Steve did chew Eddie out about that whole situation at some point but by now everyone is pretty much on good terms

Sometimes when any of the kids- but especially any of those three- have bad nightmares or can't sleep, they bunker down in Eddie & Steve's room,* the door of which is always open (metaphorically that is, but once they start dating... well let's just say the kids better knock or they're going to have yet another reason to be scarred for life lmao)

*some may think they're too old for stuff like this but I say- fuck that. A major theme of this au is acknowledgement of how these guys have had a large portion of their childhood stolen from them and the people around them are working to help them get it back, to let them just be kids and to make them feel safer than they have in a long time, so they're allowed to be "childish" and that's going to play a part in many of the events and details of this au. The same goes for the older guys too btw; like with this example specifically if Robin or Steve is the one waking up from a nightmare they find the other and both crash on the couch together for the night. You're never too old to seek comfort from your loved ones

[2shuang]

GatheringFiKi Trick or Treat event 2023

Trick: Last Halloween one of them got his heart broken. This Halloween he's going to put it past him. Or is he…?

relationship: Mitchell/Anders

warning: blood, character death

Thanks @linane-art and @gatheringfiki and apologise for my terrible English.

===

In Anders' dictionary, the word "Halloween" had never existed. He had no interest in picking up a pumpkin from the supermarket, nor did he fancy sporting a pair of silly bat wings on his back. Above all, he had no desire to open his door and find a group of kids draped in bed sheets, grinning foolishly and asking, "Trick or treat?"

No Trick. No treat.

Luckily, he lived in an apartment, and the security measures saves him from those chattering children.

Wait, not so lucky after all.

As Anders pulled out a bottle of beer and closed the fridge door, he found his boyfriend stooding by the sofa, holding a devilish headband and looking at him expectantly.

AND NO PUPPY EYES!

"If you dare to put that thing on my head, I promise you won't be allowed through my door from tomorrow," the god furrowed the brow.

"Fine, I'll wear it myself," Mitchell shrugged and placed the glowing red headband on his own head.

Anders arched an eyebrow, "Have a good night." Haunted houses and festive nights held no appeal for him.

"Hey! It's us going together!" The vampire seized the blonde attempting to slip away, lowered his head to nuzzle their foreheads, and drew them into a deep kiss.

With no need for breath, the vampire turned the kiss into a one-sided dominance. Anders gradually felt lightheaded due to the lack of oxygen. In his daze, he didn't realize when Mitchell removed his hands from Anders' waist, but he did notice that something had become entangled in his hair.

Mitchell restored his boyfriend's breath, saying, "Alright, let's go."

The disgruntled little god blinked and, after catching his breath, reached up to touch the item that had been placed on his head – a circlet.

"Since you're a 'god.'"

"Northman god," Anders rolled his eyes. "Bragi is not a flying baby without pants."

"That's not the point. Let's go."

Despite having Mitchell by his side, Anders remained uninterested in Halloween. The place was swarming with visitors dressed up as all sorts of vampires and ghosts, creating such a racket that he had to tug on the real vampire's collar each time just to lower his head enough to hear what he was saying. Oh, and they had to watch out for those agile "little ghosts" darting through the crowd.

Anders' gaze wandered aimlessly between the street's pumpkin lanterns and fluorescent skeleton costumes, finally settling on a candy-laden vendor cart by the roadside. "Maybe we can get some candy," Anders said, turning to look at the vampire. But Mitchell's attention was still elsewhere, as if he were searching for something.

"Mitchell? Mitchell!" Anders raised his voice.

"What?" the brunette turned his head around.

"I said we could get some candy," Anders' tone carried a hint of annoyance. "Just in case you feel like giving some to a little ghost who might bump into us."

He remembered Mitchell mentioning that when in England, they used to prepare a whole cookie tin full of candies for Halloween and wait for the doorbell to ring.

However, Mitchell's reaction took him completely by surprise. The vampire seemed to react as if stressed, his expression suddenly turning serious, almost angrily. He declined the suggestion and pulled him away from the candy cart.

?

Anders' dissatisfaction flared up as well. He had agreed to come to this Halloween market, which he didn't particularly like, with the idea of "accompanying Mitchell" tonight. But now, this fucking vampire was throwing a fit just because he suggested buying candy? But the only reason he wanted to buy candy is because giving out candy was Mitchell's tradition!

After being pulled along by Mitchell for a while, Anders realized that he seemed to have a specific destination in mind.

"Where are we going?" the god asked impatiently.

"To get some makeup."

"I beg you pardon?!"

"Makeup," Mitchell turned to look at him, "People do it for Halloween."

Anders immediately pulled his hand away. "If you like smearing all those colorful paints on your face, go ahead and turn your face into a graffiti wall. I don't like it."

"Happy?" Anders glared angrily at Mitchell. He had been given an exaggerated makeover, nearly unrecognizable.

The big puppy, also with a new face, nodded. He looked obedient, guilty, and remorseful, but with his makeup, it’s a bit comical.

The blonde fought the urge to pat this big puppy and sighed with a furrowed brow, "I'm hungry." He hadn't even had dinner to make it on time according to Mitchell's schedule.

The vampire, who had just settled down, became alert again upon hearing Anders' words. Unaware of his boyfriend's transformation, Anders pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked it, "There seems to be a restaurant not far ahead having a dinner party..."

"No!" Mitchell suddenly interrupted in a loud voice.

Startled, the little god hesitated for a few seconds, then ripped off the headband and flung it right at the vampire's chest.

"John Mitchell, I've had enough of you," Anders stared at him with a serious expression, his beautiful blue eyes reflecting the warm orange glow of the lights. If it weren't for the current atmosphere, Mitchell would have wanted to kiss them.

He rarely saw Anders genuinely angry, or rather, this was the only time.

But regardless, he wouldn't agree to Anders going to that restaurant.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but tonight, you haven't respected my opinions for a single second. Now I'm not interested in continuing to be your servant." He roughly ruffled his hair and muttered to himself, "Why the hell did I waste an entire evening on this?"

"Anders, I..."

"Ahh, SHUT UP." Anders interrupted Mitchell just as the vampire had interrupted him earlier. "That's it. I'm going home, and you can stay for your Halloween revelry."

Going home.

The words hit the vampire like a pin bursting a balloon, making him suddenly realize something.

Home.

Small, enclosed, controllable, home.

Why had he never thought that he could lock Anders in their room tonight? They didn't need any makeup or masks to hide themselves. As long as Anders didn't see anyone besides him, he would be safe, of course!

No, Anders didn't even need to see him! To avoid any moment when he couldn't control his vampire nature.

Mitchell was thrilled with his newfound idea, but when he came to his senses, the angry god had already disappeared into the bustling crowd.

"Anders? ANDERS!!!"

The surrounding noise and laughter seemed to announce his failure once again.

Mitchell moved against the flow of the crowd, simultaneously trying to detect the familiar scent of his lover in the air.

He was no longer in a hurry because no matter when he found Anders, there was only one outcome waiting for him. A ten-minute time difference wouldn't change anything.

However, he still had chances.

The first time, they decided to spend Halloween at home. But when Anders heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, a sharpened wooden stake drove into his carotid artery.

The second time, he chose to take Anders out. While walking down the street, a few trick-or-treat kids approached them, bouncing around. Anders urged him to buy some candy quickly to get rid of these annoying little imps. But when he returned with candy and saw Anders again, his lover was lying in a pool of blood, with a few kids wiping the blood from their mouths standing nearby.

The third time, they picked a less crowded street and stayed close to his little god. But an arrow pierced through Anders' chest from behind.

The fourth time, he took Anders to a restaurant with a performance. However, in the few seconds he looked down to twirl his pasta with his fork, a gun was pressed against Anders' head.

The fifth time, when he finally found the familiar scent in a dark alley, Anders was barely clinging to life, curled up in a corner. The paint on his face had smeared with blood, looking dirty and comical.

And he was almost becoming numb to it.

He didn't even rush to the blonde immediately, despite Anders' eyes widening at the sight of him. The neck wound left him speechless. Anders was surprised and in pain at his almost indifferent composure, struggling on the brink of life and death, desperately needing his lover.

Mitchell knelt by Anders' side, carefully cradling him in his arms and leaned down to kiss his blood-smeared lips.

Tears streamed down the little god cheeks.

"I promise, baby, I promise, there won't be anyone hurting you next time."

Because he suddenly thought of a better way. Instead of hiding from other vampires' hunts with Anders, he would do it himself.

Next Halloween, he would bring his young vampire with him, joining tonight's revelry.

[bipolar-boygirl]

Not to be a Salty American (though as the great Hannah Gatsby once said, making fun of Americans is still technically punching up,but that window is closing), but I've been thinking a lot about a specific video from a Nigerian creator I follow whose platform is about showing that africa as a whole isn't poor and a lot of the things the west sees as signifiers of poverty are culturally preferred methods and items. Her videos are very lighthearted and funny normally, but I saw one recently about how Africans (her words) don't pay for things with credit, and that we (Americans and I'm assuming the west in general) can't live without credit, our whole system is based on credit. And she's right, but it was treated as some sort of Gotcha moment, and not the horrifying mechanic of capitalism that it is

I was lying in bed this morning after having a nightmare that I lost a part of my arm and couldn't afford the surgery, the whole dream was me trying to find ways to make the surgery cheaper, to find loopholes in my insurance, stressing about missing work, and it ended with me sobbing because I finally had enough money for the surgery but it would wipe out every cent I had, and I would be left with nothing while recovering and unable to work. This was something my subconscious mind conjured because I'm dealing with a much less life threatening equivalent of needing to get my wisdom teeth removed and not being able to afford it (though the longer I go without it the more likely I am to get an infection and if that gets into my blood or my brain I'm fucked, I'm catastrophizing here, but it's a very real fear I'm dealing with).

My options for getting my wisdom teeth removed are: to continue to try to save up the money regularly, which is a very slow going process and at my current rate of saving I could break even on the surgery in about 4 months, but much like my dream it would take every dollar I have, so that's not actually true, is it? It would take me much longer to save up enough to not go broke, so realistically at my current rate I'm still probably over a year away.

Or: sign up for something like care credit, which is basically a loan specifically for medical costs. It's even interest free! Unless of course you're unable to pay back the full loan in the agreed upon time frame and then you owe a predatory interest rate on the entire amount they loaned you, regardless of how much you have left to pay off. If I had a better credit score, I might be able to put it at least partially on a credit card which would have an interest rate from the start but a lower one. But I don't have a credit card because I was forced into a position where I HAD to get a car with a car note and due to my non-existent credit score at the time I had to settle with a 20-something % interest rate and now have a $450 car note a month for like 6 years. Most starter credit cards require a cash deposit and between all my bills (aside from rent, my car note is the most expensive which is why I brought it up) and trying to save up the old fashioned way I just really don't have the money to spare to get a credit card. I could probably get one without a cash deposit, but then we run into the issue of the predatory interest rates again

Or: I could set up a gofundme, which is a whole other can of worms and with everything else happening in the world, with all of the fleeing families, and the abuse victims, and people with actual life threatening medical needs on there, my silly little wisdom teeth don't seem all that important.

So yeah, Americans can't live without credit, but it's not something we chose. It's just another tool capitalism uses to drain every last penny they can from people after inventing credit scores (didn't exist til the 80's) and making everything so fucking expensive you can't even afford it with insurance (yeah that amount I'm saving towards? That's my cost WITH insurance), so you have no choice BUT to pay for things on credit

I know it's fun to make fun of Americans guys, I used to do it all the time myself. But, just, we aren't doing so hot.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #60

Journal Entry #59 // STORY INDEX

Yuri

At the beginning of September, Victor and I moved into our forever home.

We thought we might go in the middle of the month, but I knew Victor wanted to have time to begin training with his new coach before the start of the competitive snowboarding season, and I wanted to be settled into our house in time to celebrate my birthday, so I suggested that we should arrange to go sooner. Victor seemed surprised, but he was pleased, and it made me happy to offer something he genuinely wanted without feeling like I was doing it as some sort of repayment for an imaginary debt I owe him.

That's one truth I've come to realize over the course of this year; the debt really was imaginary. Victor loves me, and he does things for me because he wants to help me and make my life easier. He never expects me to repay him deed for deed. All he wants is for me to do my best to help him whenever I can.

Sometimes my best is quite a lot, and sometimes I’m not physically capable of doing much of anything. Either way, it’s okay. Not being able to do everything all the time doesn't make me a bad person or a failure as a husband, and I'm beginning to understand that it was only my insecurity and lack of self-worth that made me believe it did.

Learning to trust myself and to believe in my own abilities and my value as a person hasn't been easy. Some days, I struggle to find even one affirming thing to say, and that's when I know I need to ask for help.

Doing that was difficult at first, because I had to get over the hurdle of thinking that asking for even the smallest thing made me a burden to Victor or my family. Releasing the guilt and shame is an ongoing process, just like teaching myself to be more positive and self-confident is, but I'm determined to succeed. I owe it to everyone I love, and I owe it to me.

When I can't come up with an affirmation, Victor always knows what to do. Rather than simply saying something good about me and asking me to accept it, he challenges me to name something I accomplished during the previous few days. It might be something big like planning and cooking an entire meal on my own, or maybe it'll be something small like folding laundry or sending an email, but there's always something. Then, he gets me to stand in front of the full-length mirror in my room and congratulate myself aloud.

Initially, that felt like an utterly silly thing to do, but Victor told me his first coach used to get his students to do it before competitions. He said the coach used to tell them to look at themselves in the washroom mirror and tell themselves things like, “I am brave and I am strong. I want to win, but even if I don’t win this time, I won't give up trying.”

Now I look forward to my little early-morning pep talks. As ridiculous as this may sound, these days it actually feels good to look myself in the eyes and say something like that, because it's not just a rote exercise any more. I am brave and I am strong, and even if today's not my day, there's always tomorrow. It's an effort to pick myself up and keep going, but I won't quit, not when I've gotten this far.

Honestly, the thing I’m most proud of lately is eating. I still don’t really love consuming most foods, but eating feels less stressful to me now, and most of the time I’m able to look at food and think about eating without becoming anxious.

I'll admit, I have moments when I wish I could go back to formula and not have to put anything in my mouth. I still have my tube, and fresh formula is only as far away as the pharmacy, so the temptation is certainly there. When I feel like that, I have to remind myself of my goal and push through as best I can. Victor encourages me on my bad days too, and I always look at my sticker chart to remind me of the progress I've made so far.

Yes, for those who may be wondering, we did bring my sticker chart with us from Japan. Mama rolled it up and put it in one of those cardboard cylinders normally used for maps or architectural plans, and I carried it with me on the plane. it's hanging in our kitchen here in Willow Creek now.

If you're looking for an update on it, tomorrow is the twentieth of September — my twenty-sixth birthday, incidentally — and I'll only have twelve more days to go before I can say I've been formula-free for sixty consecutive days.

I’ve earned four small rewards so far, and in a couple of days I’ll earn the fifth one. I already know what it is, but Victor says we can’t bring it home until I complete this current ten-day stretch. It’s garden boxes, by the way. My previous reward was gardening tools, and the one before that was a book about growing vegetables.

I won’t be able to start my garden till next spring, but I’ve already picked out a spot for my boxes, and having the things now means a lot even if I have to wait to use them. Choosing what to grow and reading up on the best cultivation methods will keep me busy during the winter, and then I’ll be ready to plant my little crop when the time comes.

Victor says strawberries do well in this climate, so I think they’ll be first on my list. I’m already imagining eating strawberries I nurtured myself. Do you think love and hope will make them sweeter?

I haven’t even planted them yet and I have a whole multitude of emotions about them. Mostly, I’m excited. I’ve always wanted my own garden, but I pictured it as flowers, not vegetables and fruit. The idea that we have room here for both makes me happy, and I can hardly wait to grow my favourite Japanese lilies and hydrangea alongside my strawberries.

Anyway, please excuse me for getting slightly off-track. I was trying to tell you about my progress. Day sixty will be October first, and then I’ll get the big reward. I know what that’s going to be as well, and it is very big. Victor told me this morning. I guess he couldn’t keep the secret until my birthday, which is when he and my parents had evidently planned to tell me, but I forgive him. It was still a fantastic surprise, and to be fair, it’s a gift for both Victor and me, so I can’t blame him for being enthusiastic about it.

I’ll tell you exactly what it is in my next entry, but suffice it to say, keeping my eyes on this particular prize is going to motivate me through the next fortnight.

Unfortunately, even when I reach the sixty-day mark, I'll still have my tube for a few more weeks because my first appointment with Dr. Kim, my new specialist here in Willow Creek, isn't until the twenty-second of October. Meanwhile, I'm still having follow-up by way of video conferences with my nutritionist back in Kyoto, and Dr. Kasongo is technically still my doctor. When I finish my sixty days, I'll get to report my progress to them, and then Dr. Kasongo will probably write a letter to Dr. Kim to tell him I'm ready to have my tube removed.

Apparently, he can do it right there in his office in about five minutes. From what I understand, he'll numb the area with an injection of some sort of local anaesthetic, maybe something like the dentist uses, and then when I can't feel anything, he'll pull the device straight out. He'll put a dressing on the area, and we'll have to watch for any signs of infection for a week or so until the tube site heals closed.

According to the information sheet I read about G-tube removal, I'll have to rest a lot and eat several small meals of bland foods like rice and yogurt for the first forty-eight hours after it comes out, and I'll have to take showers instead of baths until the hole closes, but that's about it. It's not even supposed to be particularly painful. I'll have a scar, of course, but I can live with that.

Victor says it’ll be my badge of honour, a tangible reminder of having survived one of the toughest situations I’ve ever experienced.

“It’ll prove you’re a warrior,” he told me. “You fought the battle, and you came out on top. That’s the thing with courageous people, you know. They might be scared, but they don’t let their fear win.”

I will never, ever let my fear win again.

But, you’ve probably had enough of me going on about my health at this point, haven’t you? Let me rewind and tell you a bit about our lovely summer and about our move instead.

The biggest highlight of the summer for me was having everyone I love most all together in one place. I didn't think Victor would agree to stay at my parents' house. When Papa invited him, he said he'd have to think about it, and I was convinced he'd say no, but I'm glad he decided to take Papa up on his offer in the end. We shared my old room, and even though we’re married and it's totally normal for us to sleep in the same bed, somehow this felt like I was a teenager having a sleepover with my boyfriend every night.

Victor and I spent a lot of time together, going for long walks and visiting parts of town we hadn't seen in a while. We went to the public onsen in Kiyomatsu several times, and we visited the local shrine. On sunny days, we usually packed our lunch and ate it down by the lake. I've taken a liking to eating outside, and now I want a picnic table in the back yard so we can enjoy meals outdoors here as well.

Aside from our dates, picnics and leisurely walks, Victor and I also made time to hang out with our friends. I'm relieved to say, Fox forgave me for the horrible way I treated him. He seemed a little perplexed by my apology at first, not so much because of what I said but because of the way I bowed to him. Takahiro had to explain it to him, and then he ended up making a wholly unnecessary apology to me for the cultural confusion.

While I'm on the subject of Taka and Fox, I should mention that Taka passed his immigration English test. He also got accepted into the college program he applied for, and received his study permit in August. In a cosmic stroke of good timing, Taka's Canadian study permit arrived on the day Fox's Japanese work visa expired, and they left Japan together a few days later.

Back in the winter, Victor and I offered to let them stay with us, but a lot has changed for all of us since then. We were supposed to have arrived in Willow Creek ahead of them, but obviously that didn't happen. In the meantime, Fox was busy applying for jobs back home, and he got offered a social worker position with the Department of Community Services, beginning in September. He has a Master's degree in social work, so the offer was ideal, as the position is exactly what he'd trained for.

Fox's parents still aren't speaking to him, but his sister hasn't abandoned him. She helped him find an apartment that's affordable, close to the college so Taka can walk to school, and on a bus route that'll take Fox downtown to his office. They stayed with one of Fox's cousins for a few weeks until the old tenants moved out of the apartment, and then they moved into their place around the same time we moved into ours.

I can't even begin to describe how reassuring it is to have my friend Takahiro nearby, and he confessed that he felt similarly about me being here. As safe and content as we are with our respective partners, it's daunting to realize we're in a whole new country without our families and all the things we're used to. There's no escaping the fact that we're newcomers, but it's less scary knowing we're not alone in the experience.

I wish I could say things were going as well for Seiji as they are for Taka and me. Victor and I took a weekend trip to Kyoto in July, and we decided to visit him while we were there. We got the impression he didn't really want to see us, though, and we only stayed at his flat for about half an hour because the atmosphere was so awkward.

We made a lot of small talk, but he did tell us that he hates working at the convenience store and is trying to figure out what to do next. His mother wants him to come home and be her apprentice, but he said he can't picture himself as a tailor. That statement, when the only real furniture we saw in his flat besides a shikibuton, a thrifted table and two rickety chairs was a purpose-built desk with a sewing machine on it, was incongruous. But we didn't question it. Seiji is the only one who can decide which direction he should take.

Victor's theory is that Seiji does want to come home, but he's too embarrassed or ashamed to, after leaving the way he did. If that's the case, nothing we could've said would have convinced him anyway. He'll have to make up his own mind to set aside his pride or fear or whatever else may be holding him back.

It makes me sad to think of him being all alone in that bare, depressing flat. Despite all the hurtful things he said to me, I still consider him my friend and I want him to have a full and happy life. I'd like the chance to talk to him one-on-one, to explain some things and to let him get his feelings out. That may never happen, I realize, but I like to think I'm keeping the door open for the opportunity, should it ever arise.

The uncomfortable meeting with Seiji notwithstanding, Victor and I had the most magical weekend in Kyoto. We revisited all the places we went to during the week we'd gotten married. On one evening we attended an absolutely glorious performance by a local string quartet, and on another we went skating at an indoor rink where I was able to teach Victor a sporting skill for once. Would you believe I'm a better skater than him? Well... perhaps not better, but more graceful at least.

As for the rest of the summer, August passed in much the same way as July, with plenty of walks and outdoor meals and precious time with my family. One thing of particular note from August, however, was my meeting with Mr. Tanaka and the human resources representative from our firm. Dr. Kasongo submitted a report to our HR department recommending that my short-term disability claim should be extended until the end of the year. Her opinion is that I'll be medically ready to return to work in January, and both my boss and the HR department approved the extension.

I'm looking forward to getting back to work, but I'm also glad that I'll have the rest of the year to keep getting better. I was working remotely before, but now I'll be working extremely remotely, and I think it's great that I get to keep my old job even though I'm living in an entirely different country. Much to my delight, Mr. Tanaka seems to think so as well. He said it was a chance he couldn't possibly pass up because with me being fluent in English and physically located in Canada, our firm will be in a much better position to attract more North American clients. Mr. Tanaka said he'd contact me early in December to work out a schedule for regular meetings, and so we can discuss my job duties and responsibilities going forward.

Although he didn't directly say so, I think he may have given me a promotion of sorts. I'll be sure to let you know if that indeed turns out to be the case.

The other big thing in August was that Victor and I departed Japan on the thirty-first. We said our goodbyes to Mama and Yuki at home, and then Papa took us to the airport.

I could not have predicted how emotional that would be.

Papa and I have grown close this year, and I wish I could find the right way to express how much of the previously empty space in my soul he's filled. I knew I was missing him all those years when our relationship was so strained, but I could not have comprehended exactly how much until we both dropped our stubborn pride and opened up our hearts and minds to each other. Saying goodbye was even harder than I expected, and even though I knew it wouldn't be a permanent goodbye, part of me didn't want to let go.

He went with us all the way to the security area. We all stopped outside the big glass doors, and Papa held out his hand for Victor to shake.

"Take care of yourself, Victor," he said. "And take care of my son."

"I'll take the best care of him, I promise," Victor assured him. "Don't worry."

"I'm going to, regardless," Papa said. "But, I trust you."

"Thanks." Victor grinned mischievously at him. "But, you know, if you ever want to come check on him in person, you're welcome to visit us whenever you're able. We'll offer you a non-haunted bedroom."

Papa smiled. "Expect us for Winterfest, and tell Miss Sachiko that we wouldn't dream of taking her room."

"Will do," Victor said.

Then, Papa turned to me. For an instant, I thought he was going to shake my hand too, but at the last moment he pulled me into a hug. I can't remember the last time I was hugged by my father and didn't feel uncomfortable with it, but I had no problem this time. I put my arms around him and held on tight.

"We'll see you in a few months," he whispered into my hair, and I was startled when I realized he was crying.

But I guessed I couldn't fault him for it because my eyes certainly weren't dry either. "I'm really going to miss you."

"Me too," he said. "Think of me when you’re having your strawberry milkshakes."

"I'll think of you every day, no matter what I'm doing. You and Mama and Yuki."

"I love you, my treasure," he said quietly. "Be brave. Mama and I believe in you, and we know you're going to have a wonderful new life in Canada."

I was sobbing by that point, but I managed to get out, "I love you, Papa."

I meant it. Watcher help me… with every fibre of my being, I meant it, and I hadn't even grasped the full magnitude of my love for him until that very moment.

When he walked away, I couldn't watch. Victor held me while I cried my heart out, right there in the middle of the crowded airport.

"It's gonna be okay, Yuri," Victor said. "He's right, you know. We're gonna have a wonderful life."

It was hard to believe that when I felt like my heart was breaking, but once we were in the air and away, I began to feel better. On the plane, we looked at pictures of various places around Willow Creek that we'd taken back in June, photos of Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian's wedding, and some funny snaps we'd taken of ourselves and Yuki in my room at my parents’ house. We talked about our plans and dreams, and we made up stories about ourselves in the far future. Cute old men in rocking chairs on our front porch, Victor said, and the image made me smile.

We arrived at the tiny Willow Creek airport around mid-morning the next day, where we were met by Victor's mother. She drove us home, and as we were getting out of the car, she handed Victor a set of keys.

"Here you go," she said. "Your grandpa was supposed to be here with the set you gave him, but apparently he and Juliet went on a spur-of-the-moment road trip to Oasis Springs. He said to pass along his apologies. He’ll be here next week."

Victor looked amused. "How much you want to bet they're eloping?"

"Victor!" Dr. Grace exclaimed. "Michael wouldn't do that."

"You don't think?" Victor's raised eyebrow said he might've known something his mother didn't.

Dr. Grace shook her head. "You're impossible, you know. You and your Grandpa Michael.”

"Yeah, we get that a lot."

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to settle in," she said. "Come over around five o'clock. Julian's making his famous chicken parmigiana."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Italian food," Victor replied. "I think you'll like it."

“Strawberry cake for dessert,” Dr. Grace added. “Because I heard somebody around here really enjoys strawberries.”

Victor winked at me. “I wonder who that could be?”

“I’ll see you boys at dinner,” Dr. Grace said

She wished us a good day, and then she got back into her car and drove across the street. It's nice, living across the street from Victor's mother and stepfather. I know Victor's happy about it, and I like knowing we have somebody close we can rely on if we ever need anything.

Once Victor's mother had left, I was ready to go inside. I started for the doorstep, but Victor held up his hand to stop me. "Just wait right there, okay?"

"Why?" I asked, as I watched him bound up the steps.

He unlocked the front door and flung it wide open before rejoining me on the walkway. "Because," he said. "I'm gonna carry you over the threshold. Isn't that what they do in those historical movies you like?"

I laughed. "That's for newlyweds, Victor. We've been married nearly a year."

"Yeah, but we didn't have our own house when we were newlyweds, did we?"

"Are you certain you can even still lift me? And your arms—"

"My arms are fine, and you're not that much heavier than you used to be. If I can't still carry you a few meters, I think that'll be a sign to go harder on the weight training."

"Okay," I said. I was a little dubious, but also secretly thrilled at the thought of being carried. It'd been a long time, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it.

"Okay," Victor said. "Ready?"

I nodded, and a second later he scooped me up as seemingly effortlessly as he ever had. He carried me up the steps and through the door, and then set me down carefully in the front hallway.

"Welcome home," he said.

I wanted to run through the place and look at everything, touch everything, and soak in the knowledge that this was our home. Mine and Victor's. It was the place where we'd truly build our intertwined lives, where we'd finish growing up and growing old together. Our goals and dreams would spring from here, and we'd live happily ever after because even if the world around us was in chaos, happiness comes from the inside. Victor taught me that, and once I finally understood it, my outlook changed completely. Life may not always be smooth sailing, but together we can survive any storm and come out smiling on the other side of it.

Before I ran off to explore every corner of the house and garden, there was something I needed to do.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me. For being my soulmate and my superhero and my... everything."

Victor leaned down to kiss me, and I let myself melt into his embrace. I closed my eyes, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of coconut sunscreen and relishing the solid warmth of his body against mine. It was comforting and familiar, and it felt like the fulfillment of all my desires. For a moment, I forgot that I was in a foreign country, forgot that I had responsibilities... forgot everything that wasn't the sensation of being held by my husband.

"You are the most amazing person," Victor whispered with his lips still almost touching mine. "I'm lucky, getting to share the rest of my life with you."

I'm the lucky one, I thought. I don't know if I'd even be here to recount this to all of you if it weren't for Victor. I know he'd never take credit for saving me and would probably say I saved myself, but I couldn't have done it without him. I no longer think of repayment, but it's still important to me to show gratitude for everything he's done, and I think the best way I can do that is to appreciate the life he's helped me reclaim and live it to the fullest of my capability.

I stood on tiptoe to kiss him one more time and then, hand in hand, we set out to acquaint ourselves with every detail of our beautiful new home.

[sweet-beezus]

Ohhh yeah we delving into the sweet treats this fine day of @khoc-week!

These are the kind of fun little ditties that rot my brain day in and day out, so I'm thrilled to get to indulge in some fun, albeit short, writing about it!!

One day I will fully indulge and the world will implode-

Erm. Anyway-

*scribbles out that 'or' and shoddily writes in an 'and' in its place*

Day 3 - Friends (and) Lovers

While they are all super close to each other in one way or another, they each have their own unique relationships they make outside the Heart Hotel dynamic!

I'll still touch on their relationships with one another, but it's also what's outside the clique that counts~

Iris:

Her only big relationship is with Alto, their dynamic being "innocent baby man and grumpy keeper of the brain cell."

Despite that, Iris sees him in a best friend sort of way, the two were super close when they got separated, after all. When they reunite, it's almost if no time had passed, and perhaps Iris learns to... loosen up?

She made teammates and brief friendships, but nothing seemed to come close to their dynamic. Maybe if she had more time, that wouldn't be the case, but the world may never know!

Iris sees Iliana and Reixen as her older sisters, in a way, even though the two of them get on her (and each other's) nerves most of the time. She looks up to them despite their somewhat brainless way of handling things, and it gives her role models she hadn't gotten back in her actual time.

Irene gets the special privelege of being her mother figure! Because in all honesty she doesn't recall having a mom, so Irene is her next best bet. She's too much of a steel wall to admit it, but Irene is her favorite of the others.

♡♡♡

Irene:

Irene up until now really only interacted with castle staff, so her closest relations were really only a coworker dynamic in full. She enjoys tea time with Aeleus and Dilan, at least!

Aside from that, she started collecting adoptions in town, starting with Ienzo and Kairi, and moving on to Lea and Isa, Ventus, even, until finally any random stranger with children who frequently visited was not safe! Specifically Iliana-

She ended up collecting two others in the form of Iris and Reixen! Both reluctant at first but gave up and settled into it like a pair of stray cats. Reixen is far more open about it, but Iris is still touchy. Eventually, she will cave and accept her fate...

More came in after the events of KH3. No one was safe from her love and support, especially after the war-

She doesn't have very many parental rivalries, most of the group's parental figures tend to be in united agreement about the children, but she does have some tension towards Ansem the Wise and Even just based on prior experience. Mickey? It's a work in progress. Donald and Goofy? Her besties.

Eventually, she finds a fine companion in Iliana's uncle, Russell, and mayhaps... the two have a silly romance?

After a post-KH3 meetcute when everyone is hunkered down in recovery, they stay at his shop for a few nights, so the two have time to get to know each other. They mostly talk about their experiences with their little arsonist, but it eventually evolves into more personal territory, something they resolve after a few very simple and cute dates.

Finally, a time where Irene can truly get out of uniform...

Also he's one of the stoic types that she just KNOWS she has to break eventually. She will get this man to smile no matter the cost!

Oh yeah it's all coming together~

They've earned it considering all the stress they go through with their collective adopted charges-

♡♡♡

Iliana:

Iliana out of all of them makes the most connections, but only a few of them stuck because she struggles to allow herself to make friends. Allies, sure, but friends? Naaaah~

She started out in her home world with a friend group in the form of Enya, Harlow, Rinée, and Tobias. They were all super close up until their teen years, sticking by each other through thick and thin! And they involved her little brother at times when her parents were out of town.

Her little brother, Mandorian is, like, THE most important person to her. He's just a little guy who loves frogs and hanging out with his big sis when she's not busy training. The two are so often left unattended that it's not hard to believe they spend most of their time together. Wherever she goes, he's close behind!

But whenever they're not together, she's hanging out with Tobias!

She and Tobias were two peas in a pod, completely inseperable most of the time. Tobias was her (secondary) light, and her brother's personal favorite person aside from her, so you can understand how soul destroying it was when they got murked (by her mortal enemy, she doesn't know this until way later though) in order to kickstart and send her on her hero's journey-

She fell out of touch with the others by the time she left due to the loss bringing out the worst in all of them, but Enya seemed to be the only one who continued to cling to what was left of their friendship...

Anyway-

After suffering a horrible death and was subsequently resurrected, she got pulled into Sora's goofy family along with Alto, which filled in a gap left behind by her other (temporary) loss of her younger brother.

It's like she gained two new dads and two lil' bros all in one day, what a world-

Being parentified at a young age meant she knew how to handle keeping Sora and Alto in line, but that doesn't really stop her from doing her own very stupid stuff when they aren't looking. The hypocrite-

She kind of develops a dad dynamic with King Mickey as well, but it's not terribly definitive considering how absent he is...

Over time, the Guardians of Light end up being her found family DLC add-on, it's very wholesome! She's touchy about it, but like Iris eventually she will cave in to the love and affection.

Irene, Reixen, and Iris are like her chill aunt and weird siblings that irritate her, and that's very cool of them. They were there first, so no one can top that. They're like the only family she had most of the time aside from her uncle, so there's a distinct boundary of trust between them that others can't really match.

Along the way, she also has many unrequited crushes on princesses or side characters of sorts, but the only romance in the timeline she persues (even if she's unaware of it half the time, she's very dense) is with Ienzo! Because a certain porcupine is now part of a polycule with a grape and an electric beetle- It would have never worked out, tbh.

She didn't settle, she just had a sudden and very real realization that she fell for probably THE dorkiest person possible. So many characters to pick, so many pretty princesses, handsome princes, teammates with more screentime, and it had to be a basement dwelling rat (affectionate)...

Considering her prior heartbreak at the loss of her childhood bestie, it does take a while for her to come to terms with the fact that it's okay to move on. She holds on to so much that you may need to pry it from her very warm, still alive hands-

Luckily, the two did know each other well enough since they interacted a bunch when they were kids, she did visit Radiant Garden quite a bit after all, it only made sense they may have some chemistry later down the line. Her grandma would joke about it with Ansem the Wise, but little did she know that it would become very real and very cute actually-

I dunno what it is with her and nerds, but if you can talk her ear off while all the info leaks out of her hearing holes, you have most certainly won her heart. Ienzo also partially fits the bill for her morosexual side, depending on the situation that isn't science related. Like cooking or something. Equal parts smart and dumb, just the way she enjoys them-

They're both t4t brainless nerds and in love, love wins etc etc.

♡♡♡

And there you have it! It's not much but it's honest work-

They all deserve the love and respect they get along their journies, and I'm happy to say that they do find it all eventually!

Enough on that though, we're indulging in angst this next day. See y'all on Day 4!! >:3c

[vinbee631]

What Our Parents Didn't Teach Us

heyy so it's trans sides week, so I decided to write a lil something fun for that! still not used to posting fics on tumblr but the ao3 post is also available if you are interested!

without further ado, here's chapter 1! the prompt was pink / blue / white, and my interpretation was a little silly to fit the vision but it's ok

summary: Patton didn't think adopting his nephew was supposed to come with this many surprises.

But his nephew is Remus, and he's going to bring along just as many surprises as he can fit in the twenty pockets of his cargo pants, bringing a sort of enjoyable chaos that exasperates Roman and Patton to no end.

(Don't let anyone convince you that exasperation isn't fond, though. Remus' uncles are far too sappy to stay mad at him.)

The sunset shifted before Patton’s eyes, slipping from shades of bright orange to soft, pale pinks.

He didn’t normally find himself outside for the sunsets, but not for lack of trying. There was a public park just a five-minute walk from his house, with a big, open field typically occupied by at least three picnics and five or more dogs on any given day.

Unfortunately, Patton was not the average dog owner, nor a part of a young, spry couple that had ample time to plan picnic dates or walks in the park. He was well past middle age now, and with his full-time job, husband, two dogs, and permanent teenage houseguest keeping him occupied, there was not a ton of room for special activities.

That last one was the most recent addition to their slowly growing family. His husband’s nephew, Remus, had moved in just a few months earlier. The boy still attempted to insist that the arrangement was temporary, expressing a desire to support himself when he had the means to, not burdening his uncle and husband for any longer than was strictly necessary, or something along those lines.

And yet, every time Patton overheard said desire, his heart clenched a little. Remus was only fifteen, with a set of parents that didn’t even bother to call Roman after months of their child being gone for months.

He was fifteen, and emotionally prepared to take care of himself and get his own job and pay for his gender-affirming care by himself, and Patton couldn’t stand the feeling of him doing all that, by himself when he wasn’t even done with high school yet.

So, of course, he and Roman had spent the next few months making sure he was comfortable, safe, and reassured that he was absolutely not going anywhere until he was at least eighteen and truly prepared to support himself.

Remus had cried, one time Patton had enthusiastically repeated his feelings on the matter, and Patton cried along with him as they hugged each other. After that, he definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

It hadn’t been easy, not with Remus’ somewhat chaotic tendencies and his uncles’ lack of experience on the parenting front. But, the first few weeks turned into the first month, and before they knew it, winter break was over, Patton’s job was back in full swing, and they settled into a new routine.

And then, the arguments started.

Remus had his bad days, even with his uncles, and they understood that. When he snapped at them, they didn’t fall for the bait like his parents apparently used to. They talked it out instead, and typically, their nephew was able to calm down and apologize, simple enough.

For instance, when Remus had picked a fight about wanting to start back in school. After Roman pointed out they would need his parents to confirm the paperwork that would allow him to switch, he admitted the anger had been misplaced loneliness and accepted the hugs Patton offered him.

That kind of thing was easy enough to manage, and Remus was a very reasonable kid. He was usually willing to talk about whatever was bothering him with his uncles, and even occasionally offered the same to them.

It would have been far too easy if all the fights were that way.

Remus was… very enthusiastic. Passionate, that was a good word, passionate about his interests and beliefs. For the most part, that was a good thing, and it was an attribute, Patton found, that made him quite smart for his age.

It was also what led him to start sneaking out to spend time with some... less-than-stellar influences.

Don’t get them wrong, Remus was allowed to leave the house on his own. In fact, his uncles encouraged him to, considering he wasn’t getting the normal socializing time he would be in school, and the two of them could only make up for so much of that social need.

More often than not, they would offer to drive him to meet his new friends, whenever he asked to go out. Sometimes he would accept easily, sometimes he had someone picking him up, depending on the day.

His uncles were actually quite pleased about his new friends, and how he had fit in with them so easily despite just moving into the area and not attending the local school.

They were not as pleased about the graffiti, but that was something they could handle if it made Remus happy.

The destruction of public property was even less ideal, but it was technically a largely immoral corporate-based organization, so they supposed it wasn’t... the worst thing he could be doing. A little more begrudgingly, they let that slide, too.

…And then two weeks after that initial destruction- incident, Remus got arrested.

So, that was a pretty big problem.

Roman had given him most of the lecture on the way home from bailing him out, and Patton was a bit grateful he didn’t have to attempt to gather his thoughts on the matter. Mostly because he was so angry he could barely speak, but he didn’t want Remus to worry about that.

Except, maybe he should have been worrying about that because he got freaking arrested.

But, when the two of them got home, Remus had stormed up to his room, not quite slamming the door behind him, but closing it decisively enough that he knew now was not the time for another discussion.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Patton asked casually, settling on the couch next to his husband, who was currently slumped with his head in his hands.

“He didn’t, but the cops did,” Roman sighed. “The guy I talked to was involved with the backup call. I guess the group of them got caught up with a homophobe and it got heated. The one cop that patrols the area wasn’t enough to ‘get them to settle,’ so they called in more.”

“According to Remus and the others, the first cop was on the side of the guy getting his ass handed to him, which I’m not sure if I believe or not, but regardless, they all got arrested, only because one of Remus’ group punched that cop.”

“Was that-” Patton’s eyes widened in near horror before Roman was able to elaborate. “No, no, it was one of his- friends. Apparently, Remus didn’t actually throw any punches, but I know what scuffed-up knuckles look like, so the lying didn’t quite work out for him,” Roman scoffed.

Patton sighed quietly, settling his head against Roman’s shoulder. “Well, he’s alright. Obviously, we’ll have to figure out a- consequence of some kind, even if I suppose the anger was well-placed.”

Roman snorted. “I know, right? I would be having a genuinely hard time being mad at him if baling him out hadn’t cost actual money.”

The two of them had sat with that for a while, and even after Patton had inevitably stood on complaining knees to start dinner, it took quite a while for Remus to be ready to start talking.

And when he was it was… messy.

He was angry, rightfully so, and his uncles were angry, also for rightful reasons. There was an unfortunate amount of yelling, even more so when his uncles explained that he was still going to face consequences for what happened.

“But I didn’t fucking do anything wrong!” Remus snarled, pushing himself out of his chair to stand as he yelled.

“We understand that,” Patton began gently, “but if you and your friends got in enough trouble that you were arrested, something that will be on your record forever, even if it was just for the afternoon, Roman and I certainly aren’t going to congratulate you.”

Remus scoffed, folding his arms defensively. “Well, maybe the fucking pigs that did it were the ones in the wrong.”

“So, you’re saying you shouldn’t be arrested for punching an officer?”

“Not if the ‘officer’s’ a fucking bigot, no. And I didn’t even punch the cop! I punched the other guy, and he fucking deserved it.”

“Okay,” Patton continued, attempting to stop any useless bickering between Roman and Remus. The two of them had done enough of that in the car ride. “Explain to me then, since I wasn’t there: why did the other guy deserve it?”

“He was being a transphobic piece of shit, and just generally a piece of shit, actually,” Remus explained grumpily. “He was… he started flirting with Virgil. Cuz… I guess with the long hair and the tits, people still mistake him for a female.”

Patton winced at that. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know that violence was the best option there, but… well, that’s not the worst thing you could punch someone about, I guess.”

Roman stared at him incredulously, but before he could voice his disagreement, Remus shook his head. “We didn’t hit first though! That’s a dumbass move. No, he hit Vee first.”

His uncles bristled in unison. “You… you didn’t tell me that in the car,” Roman stuttered.

“Would you have believed me in the car?”

Roman was forced to, honestly, shake his head. “I… I guess not.”

“Alrighty, then.” Patton stood, ushering Remus over, who accepted the hug he was offered soon after. “I suppose… as long as this isn’t a repeat incident, we can- hold off on the grounding business. I just… we would really like it if you were more careful, hun. I know bigotry is kind of impossible to avoid, but lately, it seems like you boys have just been looking for trouble.”

“I… yeah, okay. Thanks.” Despite the fact that Remus was now an inch taller than him, he felt so much smaller, curled up tightly in Patton’s arms.

He wasn’t sure when he’d become so soft for this boy, but he knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Not when he’d just daydreamed that entire conversation as he watched the sunset, Remus sleeping soundly in his lap.

It was much closer to dusk now. The sun was fading beyond the trees, where it would eventually taper out beyond the unseeable horizon. Stars were starting to peek out among the dark blue-ish sky, white pinpricks that managed to prick their light through the atmosphere from millions of miles away. A beautiful miracle, and all of a sudden Patton was thinking of his family again.

But, that was far too poetic to be sapping about so late at night, he decided.

“Enjoying yourself?” Patton blinked as he refocused on the park, and his husband, smiling at his question. From the way Roman smiled softly back, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, he could sense his curiosity, the lingering question of what he had been so focused on moments ago.

Instead of bothering with the long answer, Patton reached over with his free hand to squeeze Roman’s, the other busy combing through Remus' hair. He met Roman’s nervous smile with a reassuring one of his own.

“It’s absolutely perfect.”

[daemondaes]

i saw something about his dark materials cherry so can you please talk about that because i am very :eyes emoji: about it

HI HELLO this is so sweet of you to send?? i don't have a lot of very concrete things, and she has gone through SUCH a journey, but in the end, what i've settled on is that she is a witch. an old witch.

she looks young, of course, being a witch and all, but she has been around a long time. you'd think that would give her wisdom and grace, but if it does, she doesn't often show it. she's the elderly sort that is past the point of caring for convention or decorum. she's getting wacky with her eons. i saw on twitter today this quote from matt smith regarding the eleventh doctor, and it sums up the energy i'd like to bring across with her:

it more or less falls in line with how cherry presents in canon, deathly curious and eager to experience the world around her. the difference, i suppose, is that for canon cherry it comes from a fear of her own death as much as it does boredom. for witch cherry, it's born of the knowledge that her time, while not limitless, is terribly long, and so, she thinks, it would be a waste to not attempt to experience every single little thing. what's the point of existing for so long if she isn't going to do anything fun or interesting?

yes, many witches may prefer the company of their clans, away from human society, but that can't be said for all of them. if that were true, it would be unheard of for a witch to bear children, given that their clans are exclusively female. they must go and explore at least a little, at least at some point. cherry just happens to be more of a rover than most, the same as she is in canon.

she still tends to wear the dark silks that serve as the de facto uniform of witches, although she has little problem donning more conventional apparel, if necessary, to blend in. it can be a refreshing experience, on occasion, to dress up for some significant human gathering. of course, she has few qualms about nudity (the body is as natural as anything else in nature) and only deigns to wear her black dress so as to avoid embarrassing the humans she comes in contact with, but that's neither here nor there...

this iteration of cherry is accompanied not by "nikita" the demon, but nikita the greylag gander...which is a little unfortunate, because i decided on this back when my knowledge of HDM did not extend past the show, where serafina's kaisa is a falcon(?), not...a goose. oops. i chose a goose for cherry because if, as a witch, she has to have an avian daemon, i thought i might as well get a little silly with it. the inspiration for this version of nikita came from a belligerent goose named saracen in frances hardinge's YA fantasy novel fly by night (which is excellent and i heavily recommend it to EVERYONE). there's probably something witty to say about the demon to daemon pipeline, but i haven't got the wherewithal to think it up.

the most startling thing about cherry the witch is that her hair isn't pink. i couldn't find a way to rationalize it, so she's stuck with her original hair color, a dark auburn. it worked out nicely, because now this is why she goes by the name cherry.

if you look at the names of the other witches, they have a completely different feeling and flavor from "cherry," and i didn't feel great about calling her "charity" (her true full given name), because it is named for a virtue preached by the magisterium, and, being a witch, it wouldn't fit right with cherry's religion/spirituality/culture. instead, it's a nickname someone cheekily called her long ago for her red hair, and she liked it (or that person) enough to continue to use it longer after they were gone. we don't actually know what her real name is.

i'm thinking on it for the first time now, but in canon, cherry eventually has a son she names apollo. it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for witch cherry to have had a son as well. perhaps, a few hundred years prior, it was the father who called her cherry...

[rayne-storm]

Flirting with Danger

AUgust 16 - Circus

Fandom: Hyperdrive

Summary: Stella/Sol

Stella is a helping hand at the Carnival, not talented enough to have any kind of act of her own, but brilliant with animals and kids. She has a crush on the newest attraction. Could it be mutual?

A/N: just a silly little thing that happened when I tried to picture what these two would be doing in a circus.

****

To watch Solomon throw knives was to watch a master work. The precision and strength were art in themselves, and Stella could never help staring when she passed by his acts. It was mesmerizing, and she was only human. Not that anyone like her had a shadow of a chance of being with someone like him.

It wasn't to say she was ugly or anything of the sort. She thought she was pretty enough, in an earthy way, and her figure was one earned by years of hard work on a farm that she left only to help here. But everyone knew that the help and the stars didn't really intermingle. Not in a lasting way. The light of stardom, even here, was simply too bright for most.

She was content to watch from a distance as he performed, satisfied that she could at least have that privilege. Maybe he'd know her name eventually, if either of them stuck around long enough. That would be amazing.

She wasn't expecting to be asked to assist.

"Now, Miss, forgive me. I see you all the time, and it's really amazing to see you work, especially with the animals, but I don't believe I've ever caught your name?"

She can scarcely believe it. He had asked for volunteers as she was taking a break and watching him for a moment, and he settled on her. Here she was, mere feet away from the man she fantasized about.

"S-Stella," she managed to squeak out.

He grinned and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips.

"A Star, indeed," he purred, and turned back to the audience. "A massive round of applause for my lovely helper Stella, if you please!"

People actually clapped, and he had her stand against a bright red wall. There were no previous holes, which was nice, nothing to try and cram herself within. This was almost too intense to be real. But he had knives in his hands, and he was saying something about remaining very still.

Not that she could move under the intensity of his gaze anyways.

As the knives went in around her, it felt… romantic. Sensual, even. One landed between her knees and he winked, and she thought she was going to die and ascend to Heaven itself.

The world was silent save the sound of metal piercing the material behind her, and she was numb to everything but the sensation of blades zipping past her, tiny breezes blowing her curls around ever so slightly.

It was over all too soon.

But rather than say goodbye, Solomon held her hand after their bows, pressing another lingering, searing kiss to her knuckles.

"You were perfect. How would you like to be my partner full-time? Nobody's ever been as still as you," he praised, and for a terrible moment she thought he may have missed during the show, tragically killing her, and this was indeed Heaven.

"What? You want…me?"

"Oh, very much so, but even just as co-performers would be fine," he purred, and that wink made her legs weak.

"I, I would love you- to. I mean to."

Dammit.

He merely grinned and pulled her in for a proper kiss, resting his forehead against hers when he pulled away. "I might just love you too."

[slasherhaven]

Hi! Can I request slashers reactions to their s/o who love to kiss them? Doesn't matter what kind, soft kisses, pecks, full on makeout they always want to kiss them some way

The Slashers with a S/O who loves to kiss them:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas loves your innocent kisses. Whenever you press a quick kiss to his lips, cheek, or forehead, Thomas just melts. It just feels so domestic and they just wipe away his insecurities. Here you are, giving him the most loving smiles and random sweet kisses. Not because he sought you out, not to get anything, just because you wanted too and enjoyed showing him love. He just adores your touches and kisses, and how willingly they come from you. He's so starved of gentle and affectionate touch.

Now that he gets to kiss you, he can't get enough. Kisses were a little difficult to navigate before he was comfortable enough to remove his mask around you. So, you had settled for sweet pecks to his mask or exposed temple. But then the mask came off and you kissed him properly for the first time with no obstruction between you both. Now that he had kissed you properly, had felt your soft lips against his, how could he ever go without them?

Michael Myers 

They catch him off guard nearly every time. Michael is normally able to predict most things, seeing most things coming, he's observant like that. These surprise him though. You'll just waltz over and steal kisses, pecking the cheek of his mask as if it was nothing. He isn't used to somebody behaving in such a way and that makes it more difficult for him to predict.

Sometimes just lets them slide. As he does with most things, he normally just treats them with a sense of neutrality, like they're nothing. He just shrugs it off and doesn't react more than a tilt of the head or a hard stare.

Other times grabs you and pulls you back. He might let them slide sometimes, letting you get on with whatever else you were doing. Other times he's making you gasp as he grabs your arm and tugs you back towards him. If you're going to start something, you better finish it.

Jason Voorhees

You would always kiss his mask. Just because Jason is constantly wearing his mask doesn't mean he's going to be spared from your kisses. You would constantly press kisses to the cheeks and forehead of his mask. Greeting him that way, bidding him goodnight or goodbye, randomly leaning up to give him a kiss just for the sake of it.

Once he becomes comfortable to remove his mask, he never tires of your kisses. Actually getting to feel your soft kisses against his skin is so much better than receiving them on his mask. And when you kiss his lips for the first time, he can barely believe it. He adores you and wants to spend a lifetime receiving your sweet little kisses.

Brahms Heelshire

Can’t get enough of your kisses! If you're offering up so many kisses so often, he's not going to reject you! He is needy for affection and attention, and he absolutely cherishes it when you give it to him. It doesn't matter how often you give him kisses, he will always come seeking out more.

He is always pulling you in for more. Sometimes he lets you get away with a quick peck, but not most of the time. Sometimes he'll just pull you back to give you another short kiss or playfully demand another peck before releasing you. Other times, he will have the mask off and pull you back into to give you a proper kiss.

Bo Sinclair 

Complains and rolls his eyes at the soft kisses. Every time you lean up to affectionately kiss his cheek, giving him a smile before getting on with whatever you were doing, Bo rolls his eyes.

Secretly gets a little concerned if you stop. Despite pretending to be above your sweet little kisses, Bo gets used to them. So, if you were to stop giving them to him, he would become concerned that something was wrong. Also, a part of him kinda likes the domestic feeling of it, it makes him smirk to himself.

Can always get behind a make out session though. Nearly never reacts a make out session, and never acts irritated by them. He just plasters a smirk over his face, pulling you onto his lap as he takes over the kiss.

Vincent Sinclair

Your kisses often made him blush. Ever since you started getting friendly, you would give a small kiss to the cheeks and forehead of his mask. And every time he would be thankful for the mask, hiding his blush from you. But he would never pull away from you, always letting you do it. Even when you started dating, you're random cute little kisses would still make him blush or get a little flustered.

They bring him comfort. Every time you lean up to give him a kiss, he feels his body relax. You can comfort him and reassure him with the smallest gestures. When you kiss him goodbye and hello, even if it's only been a few minutes since you last saw him, when you press a kiss to his forehead until seconds before he opens his eye in the morning. He just loves your affection, and loves kissing you in general.

Lester Sinclair 

Loves any of your kisses, they always make him smile. Whenever you kiss his cheek, he can't help but grin from ear to ear. He loves when you pepper his face with kisses, smiling and chuckling as you giggle along with him. He's always happy to accept your kisses, they always cheer him up and put him in a good mood.

You both make his brother's sick. The two of you can be so sappy together. You aren't going to stop giving Lester little kisses every now and again, even if his brothers are around, and he's never going to stop you. Every time you give Lester a peck to the cheek or the lips before parting ways, Bo rolls his eyes. Vincent doesn't mind it so much, he thinks it's sweet and is happy for his little brother.

Bubba Sawyer

Absolutely lives for your kisses. Whenever you would give him those sweet little kisses to his mask, even before you were dating, Bubba wasn't shy about how much he enjoyed them and would encourage them. Even though he sees the mask as an extension of himself, he likes to take it off so that he can feel your kisses against his actual skin. Wants them all the time, no matter where you are.

You earn a lot of eye rolls from other family members. You're just so affectionate and Bubba is so giddy about it, it makes Drayton sick. He had tried snapping at you both, scolding you for it, but it didn't change anything so he eventually gave up, just rolling his eyes whenever you were showing Bubba any affection. Nubbins and ChopTop don't mind so much, they like to tease you both for it but don't really mean any harm. But sometimes he becomes even too cute for them and they start rolling their eyes.

Billy Lenz 

Make out sessions are his favourite pass time. It doesn't have to be more than making out. Just being on the couch, tangled up in each other, sharing heated, messy kisses, it's the best way to spend his time. He could do it all day, every day. And whenever you give him a lingering peck, he's trying to pull you in and hold you still for more. Pouting when you giggle and pull away.

But he also loves your smaller, more innocent kisses. Just the little gestures of affection make him smile, they make him feel loved and seen. He will pout if you ever stop giving him these kisses. If you see him and don't give him a kiss, he will come and get one from you. You've spoiled him, you can't stop now!

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Acts pretty neutral to them most of the time. Asa doesn't normally react to them much, accepting the affection but not commenting or reacting to it. He doesn't try to make you feel like it bothers him, he's just not going to respond to them with a grin or anything. Sometimes he will let out a small hum of approval that makes you smile.

He does appreciate it, though. He prefers to have the affection than to not have it, at least from you anyway. Plus, it's a useful way to tell what sort of mood you're in. If the kisses are more often than usual, you are likely in a good mood. If you're being more reserved with your kisses, he knows something is wrong.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

He thinks it's sweet. Jesse just thinks you're sweet. You're always leaning up to try to press a kiss to his cheeks, grabbing him by his shirt and trying to pull him down for a quick kiss. He's a tall man and you struggled sometimes. But he always leans down to allow you to do so, often returning them. Often catching you for a deeper kiss, enjoying leaving you breathless, and finding the smile on your face afterwards cute.

He certainly isn't going to stop you. He would never stop you from kissing him. Whether it's a simple kiss to his cheek or a heated make out session, Jesse welcomes it all. Why would he stop you from showing him affection? What would either of you get from that?

Otis Driftwood

Will roll his eyes but he's just being difficult. Otis likes to act above this sort of things, like he doesn't care for silly acts of affection like your little kisses, but he really doesn't mind at all. In fact, he likes it and you know it no matter how much he acts like it's annoying. He's never once stopped you from kissing his cheek or anything, so you know he welcomes it, he just likes to be difficult with people. Baby knows it as well and teases him about it.

Will pull you back with a smirk. Eventually, Otis decides that you've been teasing him enough. When you lean in to quickly kiss his cheek, a sweet smile on your lips, he grabs you and tugs you into his chest, smirking down at you. You know what that look means and heat rising to your cheeks before he meets you with a bruising kiss.

Baby Firefly

Lots of playful kisses. Baby loves your kisses, accepting each one, and giving you plenty in return. You're normally sweeter about it, smiling as you give her a innocent peck. But Baby usually prefers to surprise you with them and give you more intense kisses.

Teases you about it a little. She doesn't tease you in a mean way and she doesn't pretend like it's annoying or anything. She just likes to tease you about how affectionate you are and how much you must just love her. She's just playing around.

Yautja (Predator)

What a strange little gesture of affection...do it again. Obviously, kisses aren't very common among Yautjas. However, he quickly becomes a huge fan when you start giving them to him. He loves your cute little kisses and just thinks his little human is adorable.

He can't live without them now. When you came into his life, kisses were new, but now he can't imagine a life without them. Now he can barely go a day without a cute little kiss from his cute little mate!