#but then you do something or say something that is for some reason “too weird” and it's like

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 23: Succubus

You'd be surprised by how many twice Succubus requests I got, but this one really interested me. Anyway, things get real weird, expect a lot of growing body parts (G!P) and a lot of smut.

Length 2.6K

Dahyun X F reader

You mindlessly click through websites, moving from one to another without a thought before slumping over your desk. You stare out the window, feeling lonely. A small pop-up catches your eye, “Looking for a friend? Summon one.” It looked like any other of those ridiculous websites you might get ads for when you were looking at porn. Something about it draws you to it, though. You click on the ad. The website it brings you gives you instructions on how to summon a friend, giving you instructions that would best be described as occult. As dumb as it all sounded, you were bored enough to try it.

You follow the instructions, as the website explains, by making a large circle in the middle of your room, writing ruins and whatever else the website tells you. As far as you’re concerned, you should follow any instructions they give you. Once you had your summoning circle set, the last step was to provide it with a drop of blood. You prick yourself and smear your blood in the middle of the circle. Unsurprised when nothing happened. You begin to walk away when the circle lights up bright red, filling your room. A dark portal opens when the circle once was, and a woman starts to float from the abyss; she hovers above the now shrinking portal. She’s naked, her milky white skin on full display for you. You begin to worry about what you got yourself into when the portal entirely shuts, and the young woman lands in your room. She opens her eyes slowly, her eyes on the floor until she looks up at your body. The young woman meets your gaze and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Dahyun.” She says confidently, walking over and around you, looking you over.  “For what reason was I summoned here?” 

“I’m lonely and wanted a friend.” 

“A friend?” Dahyun takes a deep breath and stops in front of you. “I’m sure I can help with that. My name is Dahyun.” You introduce yourself to the young woman, trying to look away from her body but having a hard time. 

“Could you put some clothes on?” 

“If you have something for me.” You quickly head to your closet and grab some shorts and an oversized shirt for Dahyun. When you return to her and hand over the clothes, she puts on the shirt but refuses to wear the shorts. You feel too awkward to argue with her and leave it at that. 

“Let’s watch TV and get to know each other.” The idea popped into your head because it had been a while since you talked to anyone. Dahyun agrees, and the two of you settle into bed, with you putting on a show that you like. You try to start the conversation, but Dahyun is too focused on you. You could feel her hands move along your body as you tried to watch your shows. You can feel her press her body against yours, her soft breasts rubbing against your arm. “Let’s have some fun,” she whispered. Dahyun’s words echoed into your mind, hypnotizing you; you agreed like a switch being flicked. Your heart beat quickly; Dahyun smirked and climbed onto your lap. She cupped your cheeks, running her thumbs across your face before leaning in and kissing you. You submitted to her; Dahyun snuck her tongue into your mouth, exploring it as she pulled the bottom of your shirt up. She pulled away to get your shirt off before kissing your stomach as she pulled your shorts and panties away from your body. 

There you are, before the Dahyun, naked. You feel her hand move along your body; her touch is intoxicating. She presses lips against your neck, sucking on it gently and marking you. “You should know I’m very experienced. I have over a hundred years of it; just let me do what I need to.” You nod your head; in the back of your mind, you wonder just what you summoned, but that thought quickly disappears as Dahyun's fingers graze your slit. You shiver; the pleasure was unlike anything you had felt.  “I’m going to show you a whole new world,” Dahyun says softly as she takes your hand and moves you off the bed. “All your desires will be made bare.” She says as she pushes two fingers into your cunt. 

You wrap your arms around Dahyun, struggling to stand as she curls her fingers and rubs your walls. Your legs grow weaker, and you fall to your knees. You look up to see Dahyun toss her shirt off. She takes a step closer to you and places her hand on the back of your head, pushing you toward her pink cunt. Compared to her milky skin, it stood out and kept your attention. You glance at Dahyun, who nods. You moved closer, your tongue outstretched as you ran it between her lips. It didn’t feel like you were in control of your body anymore; it moved automatically, even if you tried to tell yourself to stop. The more you lapped at Dahyun’s cunt, the more you heard her soft moans, the more you became engrossed by the woman before you. 

Dahyun sensed your resistance; even though your body was pleasing her, she felt something off about it. “Is this not what you like? I can change that.” Dahyun lets go of your head and takes a small step back. You watch as she rubs her cunt, moving her hand in small circular motions. Then things started to change; her clit began growing longer, thicker. As it grew, you watched it take shape, it was a cock. Dahyun’s body was growing a cock. It kept growing, becoming massive, the biggest you had seen in real life.

Her cock grew before your very eyes, stunning you as it finished forming. The longer you stared at it, the more you wanted it, and Dahyun knew it. She grabbed her shaft and traced your lips with the tip of her cock. You unconsciously stuck your tongue out, licking at it as it moved across your lower lip. Dahyun placed her hand on your head; you knew what she wanted. The succubus didn’t ask either, instead pushing her hips forward and sliding her cock into your mouth. Your tongue ran along the underside of Dahyun’s cock; she continued to push her length inside, making you gag as she hit the back of your throat. “You’ll get it soon enough,” Dahyun says, rubbing your cheek and staring into your eyes. You nod slightly, hypnotized by Dahyun’s sweet gaze. As Dahyun begins to thrust into your mouth again, but this time you stop gagging, she’s still hitting the back of your throat, stretching it around her cock, but you’re not struggling anymore. The older woman gropes her breasts, squeezing her pink nipple between her fingers before doing the same to the other. You run your hands over her smooth thighs; you take in her body again, her milky white skin something that attracts you to her. 

You feel Dahyun’s cock throbbing in your mouth; you glance up and meet her awaiting gaze. “Drink,” she says, her command strikes deep. You feel the first spurts of hot cum hit your tongue, and as more comes your way, you begin to drink it. You feel lightheaded, barely able to think as you drink more and more of her semen. Dahyun watches intently as you gulp down her load. She smiles and pumps away at your throat until she’s done. Finally pulling out of your mouth, she watches as a thin string of saliva connects you to her cock. “Aren’t you going to thank me?” Dahyun asks. 

“Thank you, Dahyun,” You mumble before leaning forward and kissing her cock. Dahyun smiles and pats your head. You smile at Dahyun before standing up; the older woman runs her hands across your breasts, flicking your nipples before her hands settle on your waist. You moan her name as she pushes you onto your bed; you crawl back, laying in the middle as Dahyun climbs up and over you. She caresses your cheek, smiling at you before grabbing her cock and rubbing it against your slit. You groan as you feel the heat coming from her cock. “Dahyun, please,” you whimper, your cunt it aching for her cock. The longer Dahyun rubs her cock against your wet slit, the more you want her. Your body feels like it's on fire. “Fuck me already,” you beg her, but Dahyun just continues to rub her cock against your slit, silently watching you squirm. 

She moves her cock to your entrance, aligning herself with you. You feel it spreading apart your fold as she pushes inside you. You suck in a breath as Dahyun pushes the head inside; you moan Dahyun’s name, holding onto her shoulder as she pushes more of her cock inside you. It pushes your walls apart, splitting you in two. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure is more than enough to cover it. Dahyun inches her way inside you; as you look down, you see a bulge moving deeper into you. You nearly cum from the sight; your walls squeeze down on Dahyun’s cock. She finishes burying herself inside your cunt soon enough. You keep staring at the bulge in your stomach, prodding it. Dahyun’s soft, low groans bring your attention back to her. As you glance up at the older woman, she presses her lips against yours. Her red lips melt into yours; you can’t contain your moans as you feel her hands wandering your body, squeezing your tits and beginning to move inside you. Your body jerks and shudders as the overwhelming pleasure runs over it. 

“Harder!” You moan, surprising yourself. Your body demands it, though. Dahyun smirks and pulls out, leaving just the tip inside before impaling you with her cock. It feels like being struck by lightning; you arch your back and cum instantly. Your walls clamp down on the older woman’s cock, and you cover it in your cum as she slides in and out. You moan loudly while Dahyun continues to fuck you. You wince, struggling with the pleasure coursing through your body as Dahyun fucks your sensitive pussy. Your head begins to spin as Dahyun fucks you, and your body feels lighter. Ecstacy begins to take over, your moans become wild, and you lose your mind to the pleasure as Dahyun makes you cum again. The older woman doesn’t let up; she raises your legs, folding you in half and hammering your cunt. Dahyun presses her weight on you, leaning in to kiss you. She snakes her tongue into your mouth, sucking on it as she begins to pull back. You mumble her name, warning her of your next orgasm. Your cries become louder as Dahyun moves her hand down, circling your clit with her thumb. Your entire body tenses as you explode on Dahyun’s cock again. 

The older woman begins laughing as she sees you losing your mind. She pounds away at your body as she nears her climax. As her cock begins to throb inside your cunt, you beg her to cum inside you. “Aw, you want me to cum inside you?” Dahyun teases.

“Yes! Cum inside me, please fill my pussy.” You beg, the vulgar words leaving your mouth before you can think. 

Dahyun’s smile widens, and she gets by your ear, “Alright, you asked for it.” Dahyun drives herself into your cunt, slamming into your womb before unloading her cum into you. You roar as you feel her hot cum pour into your womb, painting it white as you slowly become full. Dahyun scrunches her nose as she pulls out, “Did you like that, baby?” You nod your head lazily, barely able to understand Dahyun. “Would you like to see what it’s like on the other side?” Again, you nod, scarcely able to hear Dahyun.The older woman lays on her side, her chest rubbing against your arm as she reaches toward your cunt; you feel her hand rubbing your folds, moving between them until she moves to your clit. “You asked for it,” Dahyun whispers into your ear. 

Your head shoots back as a euphoric pleasure fills your body. “If you want it so bad, I’ll make sure you can, at least, temporarily.” You stare at the source of your pleasure and see your anatomy changing, your clit growing longer and thicker until it takes the shape of a cock. Dahyun massages it, working her magic until the process is done. You’re breathing heavily, staring at your cock; it was hard to believe you have a cock. You reach down hesitantly, touching it and immediately being hit by a wave of pleasure. Dahyun smiles and grabs your cock, running her hand over it. You shudder at the immense pleasure.

Dahyun crawls away from you; you stare at her backside, watching as she makes her cock disappear, a wet slit taking its place. “Go on, fuck me,” Dahyun says, raising her ass and pressing her face into the mattress. You stare at her ass, licking your lips as you crawl to her. You want to eat it, to run your tongue across her pristine skin, but your cock controls you. It twitches as you see her pink pussy, there for the taking. You press yourself against the older woman, clumsily thrusting between the older woman’s legs, feeling her soft thighs jiggle against your cock. Dahyun giggles before grabbing your cock and forcing you to slow down for a moment. She aligns you with her entrance and waits for you to make the first move. You’re practically drooling as you grab onto Dahyun’s waist. You slam yourself inside her tight cunt, cumming in an instant. You feel your cum shoot out of your cock, dumping it all into Dahyun. 

You were going feral; you kept thrusting into Dahyun. You watched her ass bounce on your cock, but you wanted more from her. You reached around and squeezed her modest breasts, ravaging her body. Your nipples dragged along her back, keeping the euphoric feeling going as you dump another load into her pussy. You could only repeat her name; it was your only thought as you continued to thrust. Her pussy felt so good, it was wrapped tightly around you, squeezing your cock. How you could live without this pleasure was beyond you, you continued to slam your cock into the older woman, pouring more and more cum into her as you lost all control. You slip out of Dahyun, but your body continues moving. You thrust between her thick thighs, covering them with your cum. When you cum for a fourth time, it sprays onto Dahyun’s stomach and tits. Exhaustion hits you suddenly; you continue thrusting between Dahyun's thighs, slowing down until you collapse. 

Dahyun smiles at you, caressing your cheek, “Poor baby, you got too excited.” She says before scoping some of your cum from her stomach. She sucks on her fingers, tasting your salty cum. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have nothing left to give.” Dahyun straddles you, rubbing your cock between her folds and sinking onto it. You groan weakly as she begins to bounce on your cock, moaning as she gropes herself, tugging on her nipples and rubbing her clit. The last sight you have before you pass out is Dahyun’s messy body bouncing on your cock. 

The following day, you wake up with Dahyun beside you; her body is clean. You throw the blanket off your body and look down; your cock is gone. You gulp as you stare at the older woman, who sleeps peacefully. You wanted your cock back; you wanted to fuck Dahyun again. You needed it. Dahyun continued to sleep peacefully, fully aware she had you in the palm of her hand.

[nneteyamss]

ROSES — 19. FAWK

(partly written)

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y/n walked to the park, clutching her jacket closer to her body. the december air blew into her face making her cheeks red as she buried her face further into her scarf.

“why the fuck couldn’t i have picked somewhere warm… my ass should not be put in the cold at 8 o’clock at night.” y/n mumbled to herself, already regretting leaving her warm bed. from a distance she spotted intak seated on a bench, looking at his phone. he was bundled up in a big winter jacket and a scarf wrapped around his neck. yet he had hat, letting snow fall and stick to his black hair. intak suddenly looked up hearing y/n approach and stood to greet her.

“hey… thanks for meeting with me, sorry it’s cold.” guilt instantly ran through y/n’s body because he seemed nervous.

“sorry for making you wait, i don’t know why i picked outside..”

“no it’s okay, i just got here a couple minutes before you.”

y/n simply nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. the silence was lasted as neither of the two said anything after that.

“uhm do you want to sit? i cleared the snow off the bench.” he gestures to the bench and she nods. they sit down and another awkward silence fills the air.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” y/n turns to him, breaking the silence.

“oh right! i wanted to apologize again about the other day. i shouldn’t have kissed you without asking or so suddenly like that.”

“i appreciate and accept your apology, but why were you there?”

“i don’t know how to explain this without sounding crazy but i knew jaehyun was going to be there, and i had a weird feeling he was going to try something. i came in disguise and i approached you because i saw him walking up to you” y/n started at him with a blank stare, processing what he just said.

“so you were stalking me?”

“well no… but yes? yes to an extent!” intak fumbled over his words, not expecting that question. he thought of it more as keeping an eye out on her for a space she knew the man she so says didn’t like was going to be in. now that she said it though, it kind of seemed like stalking. “sorry” he mumbled.

“your disguise was ass by the way, you should’ve asked shota for his fake mustache” she giggled looking ahead of her. the situation was getting too serious, and she felt the need to make it more lighthearted.

“no way… he said the SAME thing. how do YOU know about the fake stache?”

“i’m the one who bought it for him of course!”

“this is like a full circle moment, what the fuck.” the two laughed together at the moment. who would’ve ever thought that shota having a fake mustache would arise in this convo. however, the laughter eventually died down and intak turned serious. he turned to y/n and grabbed her hands, which were now out of her pockets.

“listen, i need to talk about the main reason i wanted to talk. please don’t say anything until i’m done.” he was dead serious, y/n nodded and pushed down any jokes she could’ve made in the moment. “we’ve been fake dating for a couple months now. we both know the original reason this started. but y/n… i really like spending time with you, like a lot. you’re funny, gorgeous, caring, and so much more. i didn’t plan it but i thought this was just gonna be some fun side quest activity. the more time i spent with you and got to actually know you and your personality, the more i started to actually like you. i tried to fight it off because i mean this relationship wasn’t real and i’m your brothers friend, but i can’t help it. i really… really want this to be real. we get along so well, and there’s a connection. what i really called you out here for was to ask this. i really really like you, could i have the honor of being your boyfriend?”

the long speech was followed by silence. one blink, two blinks, no words. embarrassment gnaws at intak who immediately started to regret asking out of fear of her not feeling the same. yet, he didn’t say anything and let her take her time.

“intak, i didn’t know you felt that way. i feel like this is very sudden though. i need to think about this before i answer, im so sorry” intak nodded and gave her hands a squeeze before letting go. “i’ll text you, i just need to think.” she said again before standing up.

“that’s okay” he gave her a small, yet warm smile. his cheeks were red and his hair was getting damp from the snow. y/n reached forward and pulled his jacket hat onto his head.

“you should get home before you get sick… it’s cold and you don’t have a hat.” the words left her mouth quietly, but intak still heard since the night was quiet was well.

“you should get back as well”

y/n nodded and put her hands back in her pockets, “i’ll see you.” she said and began making her exit of the park and going back home, leaving intak standing in the cold. by time she got in her car and started driving away, intak made his way to his car, waving as she backed out the parking spot.

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notes: lalala guess who finished finals, passed all their classes, and got back to work again this week (i need to make all the money i can over break for psyfe and 127 concerts) 🙂‍↕️

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

for @kultiras🖤

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divider credit here

[circeyoru]

Loyalty of The Shadow _ Part 3 *END*

[Sung Jinwoo x Friend!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2  — Part 3 (here)

“Arise!”

[YOU FAILED TO EXTRACT THE SHADOW.]

[YOU STILL HAVE TWO CHANCES REMAINING.]

“Arise!!”

[YOU FAILED TO EXTRACT THE SHADOW.]

[YOU STILL HAVE ONE CHANCE REMAINING.]

“No… I can’t lose you…” Jinwoo hugged your cold body close, ignoring all the blood that dirtied his clothing or the scene he was making in front of his Shadows who watched with bated undead breath. “I shouldn’t have been with Hunter Cha… I shouldn’t have let you leave…”

It all happened within less than an hour. Jinwoo heard from Igris—with the help of Beru, who was the only Shadow to speak—that you left for some time alone and wanted to be completely alone. He thought it was fine as long as you were near him and he could go to you the moment he was done with Hae-In. But it took longer than expected and look what that led to.

You were the target of some people that saw Jinwoo through a negative lens. Since it was impossible to harm the S-Rank, it was simpler to put their anger and envy on people close to him. You happened to be unguarded at the worst time possible. When he got the news from his patrolling Shadows, it was already too late. Your body was cold and you had lost too much blood for his potions to do anything.

Jinwoo pleaded, he wished, he begged, he hoped. This was his last chance.

“Arise.”

From your body, misty tendrils formed and flickered around until it started to create a figure he was all too familiar with. There was you, standing before him with purple eyes and a body of shadow and darkness, dressed in what appeared to be robes like a mage—just like Min Byung-Gyu—but also some form of armour at the joints, everything outlined by neon purple like his Shadows. 

[SHADOWS HIGHER THAN RANK KNIGHT CAN BE NAMED.]

It was weird that you could be named, and even more bizarre that you were ranked as high as Igris was when he was first extracted. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was what to name you. It felt wrong to give you your original name because this was just a Shadow version of you, but then he can’t just give you another name. 

Just then, he had the answer. He stared at you in the eye and brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Blank. You’ll answer to that from now on.”

His heart ached when you bowed to him with a hand over your heart area. Your gaze fixated on him when you straightened up, and there was wonder and eagerness in your eyes that he couldn’t help but be reminded of your memories. 

Well, he might as well say it now. Still, with all his perceptive point investment, he somehow failed to notice his Shadows giving you a particular look. Particularly Beru and Igris, who appeared most fidgety, as if they had something to tell but couldn’t. 

“I have loved you for so long… Will always love you. I am so sorry for letting that happen to you. I should have protected you. I should have been with you.” Jinwoo leaned down where his forehead lightly touched yours and his eyes closed. “I love you.”

Hm!

??

Jinwoo’s eyes opened with confusion. The sound was way too close to be from the outside source. Not to mention… He raised his head and stared at the Shadow newly added to his army. He definitely felt a flinch from this Shadow. His eyes narrowed as he eyed the Shadow that stiffened for no reason. “Hey…”

Your eyes blinked and somehow avoided his gaze. Which was weird already since his Shadows never does something like this. They never act this human, nor were they affected by what he says on an emotional level. This was very suspicious. 

“Is there something you want to say to me?” Jinwoo’s eyes stayed glued to your facial expressions.

You shook your head and made a cross with your arms in front of your face, anything to shield you from Jinwoo’s intense gaze.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Jinwoo sighed your original name. “Stop acting.”

You tried maintaining your Shadow act as much as possible. It was too much and you ended up nodding in defeat with a droopy attitude. 

“How is this possible?” Jinwoo questioned aloud as his eyes widened, bewildered by the relaxed posture you suddenly took after your admission. You were acting the same as before, like nothing has changed and he didn’t just extract your shadow from your dead body. Wasn’t there an urge of loyalty placed on you that directed your attention to him? A force that compelled you to act inhuman?

You shrugged and pointed at your neck, no, throat to be more specific. Your mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. 

“Are you saying ‘you can’t speak’?” Jinwoo guessed your meaning.

You nodded enthusiastically and clapped your hands with a smile. Your lips moved, but once more, Jinwoo couldn’t hear anything from you. 

“My Queen is calling you smart and quick on the uptake, My Liege.” Beru spoke up suddenly, his wings fluttered with pride as he was now more important, being a bridge between his master and his master’s love. 

“You can understand?!”

“I can understand you now!?” 

Both Jinwoo and you exclaimed. The two of you looked back at each other and giggled. Soon, some changes were made. Instead of Beru watching over his mother and younger sister, Jinwoo had a legion of knights, mages, orcs, ice bears, and ants to guard them. Since Beru was the only one who could deliver your words to him, Beru had to be close by. 

Then he wondered how you could have your voice back. His only answer was to raise your rank. However, sending you into battles was something he swore he’d never do to you. He wanted to protect you, but not have you serve him. Now that you weren’t any ordinary Shadow but something akin to a reincarnation of yourself, he can’t do this to you. 

“My Liege.” Beru’s words brought him out of his thoughts. “My Queen wants to fight as well.”

“Nonsense. I won’t allow it.” Jinwoo spoke without missing a beat. “Never.”

Beru continued to relay your words, “My Queen wants to fight your battles with you, to be next to you. Rather than listening to your hardships.”

Jinwoo looked over to you, who was busy mingling with his Shadows, seemingly trying out a sword or a mage’s staff. Needless to say, the Shadows were ecstatic to finally communicate with you, even though it was your death and their master’s powers that allowed it. Still, they all made the best of things and kept you busy. 

“We will ensure The Queen is never in danger, My Liege.” Beru promised. 

It wasn’t like he and the other Shadows wanted their master’s beloved to fight alongside them. Yes, it’s an honour. But they shared their master’s worry when it came to your safety and health. When you told the Shadows this, they were against it until they heard your reasoning behind it. You wanted to be able to talk to Jinwoo again, to accept his confession by your own voice. For you, too, saw this as your second chance in life or the afterlife.

Jinwoo sighed, though a small smile was on his lips. “I could never say no when it comes to that, huh? Fine.”

As if you heard the resolve, your head turned over to Jinwoo while you waved with a beaming smile, not caring that you were swinging a sword in the air. 

“Let’s do some levelling up.”

Note: Welp, first one of the Christmas update is out~ And this is the end of this series. Thanks for following this series! (even though I never planned for it to last this long)

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @lunavixia @o-qi-shisme @skylar896 @marydragneell @bri602 @posionapple24 @akemityan @shaq-27 @the-dumber-scaramouche @mydearestbeloved @icefox8155 @loudlylovingcreator-blog @kaeyasoccs @rozuburedo @shineinouzen15

[backwards360]

tell me about your headcanons about the cultural differences between layers plss

- your favourite sister ever

takes a deep deep deep breath. hello niki. my beloved sister. my favoritest sister ever.

the noob layer (before the evil champion)

very very community oriented

block parties (get it) are really popular!!

a lot of sharing and stuff going on

music!! music is a really big thing!!

accent sounds a bit like theyre singing, almost like theyre dancing with words!! they dont pronounce their vowels fully!!

the noob layer (after the evil champion)

community??? no chance, everyone dies before you get to even know their name (which is why evbo never bothers asking anyone)

really the only sharing they do is when someone is sick or theres a child and occasionally family units share food

cannibalism. yeah. its normal for people to go insane, the noobs probably refer to it as some kind of curse or something bc thats fun

the pro layer (before the evil champion)

everyones neighbors!! less community oriented than the noob layer

more focused on helping each other get better!! regularly helping each other learn fun new parkour things

their accent is kinda like. how do i explain this. their voices tend to be softer and tbh i wanna say they sound like a weird mix of southern and british. dont ask questions.

i dont have much for the pro layer if yall have fun things hand 'em over

the pro layer (after the evil champion)

music is HUGE here between moral boosting events and also playing songs for parkour !!

community oriented but more in the way where family units stick together and everyone else is like. a coworker. like you might be friends and occasionally you might get close with someone but like. ehhhhh

mostly just like. yeah i work in the same general area as this guy

the fighter later (before they were banished)

this layer has the most people because its so hard to rank up so its the one with the most stuff going on!!

libraries!! this is the layer of scholars and shit!!

theres so many people here that the masters come down and hang out here a lot too!!

this is where everyone learns things, theres no schools on the other layers because everyone has the chance to rank up !!

this ones just fun, its got a mix of everything because its the most populated \o/

they have a fun accent i think, tbh i wanna say its similar to new york? idk

the fighter layer (after the banishment)

devoid of basically everything that made it what it was

the most sparsely populated now

everyone is hostile as fuck, by the point we see it in canon everything's been combed over tens of hundreds of times so if someone sees someone else its safe to assume one of them is getting mugged

unless its a seawatt situation but whatever

some bonds still remain and theyre as strong as ever now

everyone either has fashioned masks out of their clothes or just has the most fucked up throat from the frequent sandstorms.

the master layer (before the evil champion)

not much going on up here!! they normally hang out on the fighter layer

huuuuuge showoffs but like in a fun way!! performances!!! wow!!!

theyve got a bit of twang in their voice i think bc yes.

the master layer (after the evil champion)

showoffs but in a bad way

big on spreading rumors

really reclusive, never visit lower levels or each other

battling is common for any reason, the more people youve defeated in a battle the higher up you are on the social ladder

ok heres some!! i hope u like it it took me like 45 minutes to write all this bc i kept getting distracted

[genderqueerdykes]

its so funny when people see an inclusionist who is part of like, every possible oppressed minority within oppressed minority groups, and then they say something inclusionist that They Specifically are against and they go like "what the hell. i thought u were better than this. i expected you to not have empathy for The Bad People." its ridiculous anyway thanks for being so chill and always open minded ur blog makes me feel safe

it makes me want to bite a chunk out of my desk

i've had this happen to me so many times over xyz thing and it baffles me. i don't get why people think that just because they like my vibe that it means that i'll agree with everything they have to say. and i really don't like it when someone struts into my ask box acting like they have pity for me, or are "scared" for me for "not knowing better". it actually pisses me the fuck off that people think they know what's best for me.

i do not understand why people look at how inclusive i am and go. i bet equinox hates (marginalized group). on what planet? i'm intersex. i'm trans. i'm bisexual. i'm biracial. i'm disabled. i'm neurodivergent. i'm mentally ill. i'm poor. i've been chronically homeless. like i could keep going. why do people think that i harbor hatred in my heart like this? i don't. i don't want anything to do with your hatred and looking down on people

i don't look down on people. i think that's what irritates me the most is when someone projects how they look down on others on to me. keep that to yourself. i'm not in the business of looking down on people who haven't harmed anyone. people really have to learn that something irritating them isn't harming them. getting annoyed is not the same as being harmed.

i don't entertain people like that because i do not owe someone i disagree with validation. i am not humoring people who think it's okay to be an asshole. if i'm well known for not being an asshole, what the hell makes people think i'll change just for them? get real. i'm not going to start excluding random groups of people from communities they rightfully occupy. maybe i just have too much lived experience, but i'm not narrow minded, and my goal in life isn't to make people feel like shit. my goal in life is to help people. hating a marginalized group will never be helping anyone

thank you for this message, genuinely, because the amount of people who have crawled into my ask box lately with the most bullshit exclusionist takes thinking that for some reason, i'll bend to pat them, in specific, on the back, has been staggering. idk why people think that i inherently agree with them just because they agree with me. i'm not your weird little yes man to pat you on the back and give you validation. i'm a person with my own thoughts.

take care of yourself, thank you so much for the kind words! i appreciate it more than i could ever express

[aleisters]

i am making the sappy post about darby, finally.

the shoot love in wrestling is something that really gets to me. and it really gets to me with darby because he's a quintessential underdog. like, shoot he used to be a loner and honestly kind of a loser and a guy with an ugly personality. he can be awkward and stuttering and lisping and he has a really fucking mixed bag of tattoos.

if you go back and watch old interviews with him, he's borderline extremely unpleasant, he's rude and obnoxious, it's often demonstrably clear that he's not happy for some reason or another. he's never really mean to the interviewer, but "shows up to the facetime interview from his bed" is like. okay.

but after he joined aew, he started getting better. for the past year and a half especially he's become someone you can trust with things. he's smiley, he doesn't talk deep and slow to account for his lisp anymore. he's trusted to do things, to do media interviews, to carry around belts, to say he wants to be world champ, to represent aew in the climbing of mount everest. tony khan is paying for some (if not all?) of his mountain climbing training. that's insane.

and i don't think you get who darby is today - outwardly generous (he has random people staying with him all the time, to learn to wrestle, to lose weight with his help, whatever they want), smiley and friendly and personable - without the shoot love. you don't have who darby is today without the fact that tony khan believes in him so much. without his idolisation of jon moxley, and that moxley believes in him for real too. you don't get it without darby being trusted to work with sting - sting! the iconic wrestler sting! and then sting trusting darby's opinion that sting can return to in-ring wrestling (instead of just cinematic amtches). in the present, darby is training sting's son to wrestle. all of that is love.

there's love with the bucks too, who wanted to hire him, who love that he skateboards and stuck up for him incorporating that into his gimmick. who have wanted to wrestle with him before and then got to do that multiple times this year. darby who appears in the background of bte doing stuff like building skateboards for matt. who nick does all the primary checking-on during stunts in their matches. darby can't manage to kayfabe say a bad word about them, he's like "yeah the bucks hired me and i'm so grateful for everything they've done and they're amazing. btw they suck yeah boo hiss evps" it's fucking... cute...

and darby and brody have such a long and deep friendship that they can't wrestle without brody making some proclamation about how they're going to do it forever. brody has a tattoo about darby. eddie kingston had darby for about 1 match before becoming a Ruffling His Hair guy. adam copeland went one step further and said i'd had this boy for one match and i'm going to cuddle him and kiss him on tv. ridiculous sweet stuff.

i'm not putting darby on a pedestal, because he's fallible and imperfect and he's done weird and bad stuff, but i'm not using this post to talk about something that requires a genuine nuanced conversation, i'm using it to talk pathetic and wax romantic about my number one favourite wrestler.

i think he is one of those people who you can really shoot see the development of from an unfriendly gremlin into like, a gremlin that everyone loves for some reason. everyone around him loves him and wants to give him good opportunities and he pays that back so much, as often as possible. he does it by being the pinch hitter when nobody else is right for it, even at the expense of his own body. he does it by raising money for the skateparks that saved him as a kid. he does it by looking after the people around him - making sure his parents never have to work again. he does it by wrestling well, at the top of his game and still improving.

and i'm soft and i believe that love did all that. i think without the people who love him he'd still be a weird off-putting little mess.

and i hope 2025 is his year. i wanna see him at the top of every mountain he wants to climb.

[the-cauldron-witch]

Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!

I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪

But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!

Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)

I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂

Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)

Leonardo

The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.

He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.

Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.

This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.

When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.

Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.

Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together

After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.

It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.

Raphael

This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.

“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”

Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.

The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.

When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.

You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,

Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.

He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch

“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.

After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.

Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.

Donatello

Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.

Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.

Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.

From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.

Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!

Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.

Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.

Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.

Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.

Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.

Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.

Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.

The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.

Michelangelo

Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?

Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.

He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.

When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.

This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream

Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.

He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.

Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.

When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.

He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.

“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!

Taglist

@silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

@yorshie @truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen @milykins @justalotoffanfiction

[ceesimz]

hey gang, im gonna get kinda personal for a sec and delete it some point soon, there's just a few things i wanna say :)

i have received the most love since being back then i ever have in the past on here and it's important to me that you know how grateful i am for that! there's been some things going on in my personal life this month that haven't been too easy and to not only come back and see all this, but to receive it during such a difficult time has really been a light through quite a hard couple weeks for me <3

so for that i am more thankful than i could ever express, i was very anxious about coming back and wasn't actually planning to until after christmas, but then i got some unexpected news and decided to come back because it's a nice distraction from the world with being able to talk to people and read such beautiful works, etc etc, all the good reasons we're all on here because of.

not only this, but by posting my writing on here, especially since starting reverie, i realised recently that i've become more confident in my writing because of every bit of love and feedback people have given me. so confident in fact, that i spent the past week writing a eulogy for a close family member i lost just a bit over two weeks ago now which i read aloud for my family during the funeral service. all things considered, it was a very heartfelt and transformative moment for me that i might never forget because i never share my writing anywhere but here, and to make something so important for my family was an amazing feeling :)

without the grace you've treated my writing and myself with, i wouldn't have been able to have that moment with my family. so, the basis of this weird message, is that the next time you're considering whether or not a writer might appreciate a message about their work, short or endlessly long, do it anyway because i can promise you it does so much more than you realise.

and speaking of wonderful feedback, i will get back to each and every person that's sent me a DM or left a comment or a message in my inbox tomorrow!! it's been a difficult few days (and weeks overall) but as i said a moment ago, my view of this space has completely changed in the past two weeks because of how extraordinarily kind i've been treated. so, thank you, i can never say that enough but i hope you know that you are so welcome on my page and i appreciate each and every single one of you that drops by! i will be back tomorrow hopefully, or maybe a little longer, but in the meantime i hope you have a wonderful christmas/wonderful rest of your december and you all mean the world to me :)

[quigzahhutt]

📓!

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about!

ok. have you ever watched parent trap. yeah this is basically that but with Franco and sargebon

I like to think that Franco is definitely aware of how much Alex cares about Logan. he's such a little fanboy that theres no way he hasn't noticed the difference in how Alex treats him vs how Alex treated Logan. it doesn't upset Franco at all because. well. if he was horribly in love with his teammate and then said teammate gets replaced by this new kid? yeah Franco would feel a little constipated too

so I imagine that Franco goes into this completely unaware of how badly Logan's replacement actually hit Alex. hes mostly just focused on his own lane and i mean. can you really blame him? he just achieved his dream at 21 years old; he gets to represent his country at a level of competition that nobody has done since the early 2000s. Franco has way more to worry about than the life of the guy who he just replaced

and it sucks, sure. Franco liked Logan a lot; he helped him in Silverstone, he made sure that Franco felt comfortable in the car and the garage and the team environment. Logan was really the first teammate Franco had in williams, in a strange way, so of course he feels sad that Logan was let go in the way he was, but this is in inherently selfish sport. he can't allow himself to dwell on these things

but then he starts seeing how affected Alex is. how he's constantly snuffing out francos jokes with these pitiful little laughs, or how he just seems generally constipated around him, swallowing things down every now and again like he doesn't even want to humor Franco. its a little funny, because before, Alex had no issue joking around and including Franco in their little bits, so something has obviously changed

and so Franco starts trying to solve the puzzle, figure out why Alex is being so flaky. he maybe asks around with george or even James, because he seriously can't be the only one who's noticing this, right? and then someone points out that Alex isn't really acting all that different around them, so maybe it's just a Franco thing

and that kind of turns into a spiral because. well. Franco really likes Alex, and it kind of really sucks that Alex doesn't like him, and what did Franco even do? he hasn't even really hung out with Alex except for videos, or maybe the few times he was with Logan-

oh. now that's a thought

and Franco has the brilliant idea to talk to Logan instead. it's nothing pushy or suggestive, more just... checking on him. because Franco really does care about Logan, and he feels kind of silly now for not even thinking of checking on Logan before

they talk and Logan seems okay, maybe not great but he's better than Alex, that's for sure. maybe. well maybe not. because when Franco says something about Alex, the three little dots keep disappearing and reappearing before Logan eventually just... stops typing, and leaves Franco on read for a few days. and then weeks. and then, fuck, Franco is back to square one

and so maybe Franco brings Logan up to Alex one day to just test the waters, ask if they've talked at all recently, and Alex gets really tense, and asks why hes bringing him up now, or why he thinks that its relevant. its already done; Logan is back in the US already and Franco is here now and so it doesn't matter and he should just leave Alex alone

but this is Franco. and Franco is stubborn and charismatic and so of course he manages to get through to Alex, and it's maybe a whole big thing, maybe it isn't. Alex is upset, but not at Franco, it's more just residual... bad vibes. like Alex ate something funny and for whatever reason it's all Logan's fault

and then shit keeps happening, and the weekends are getting harder, and in a weird way it doesn't take as much of a toll as Franco expected. if anything, the difficulty helps him and Alex get closer, and it doesn't feel like Alex hates him anymore because now at least he's talking to him

and because Franco is stupid and doesn't always think about what he's saying, he eventually just asks what happened with Logan because, y'know, him and Alex are maybe friends now? and although Franco asks, he kind of has an idea about what happened already

he assumes that Alex and Logan had something more going on, the kind of relationship in motorsports that Franco never really had with someone because he could never stick around long enough. Franco was always one of those drivers that went between teams and series and yeah he has friends, but he's kind of okay with it just staying like that

so he can't really understand how Alex feels, but it's kind of eating him up, and then when he asks it's.. fine. it's chill. maybe Alex sighs a little louder than normal, but then he explains everything. how him and Logan were together but not really, how Alex knows that he loves Logan a lot more than Logan does for him

and Franco feels really silly because I mean. watching from a distance, it didnt look like that at all, because Logan looked like he loved Alex a lot, and he seemed absolutely devastated when Franco asked about it. its a strange thing to think that Logan doesn't like Alex at all

and Franco says that. obviously. because his brain to mouth barrier doesn't really exist, and Alex laughs right in his face, which Franco kind of expected because thats usually what people do when he says something without thinking, but then Alex stops laughing and begins looking horribly constipated (again)

Franco decides to shut up after that, which is vaguely impressive for him considering he has about twice the amount of questions he had before all of this. so instead of bothering Alex (who looks REALLY sad now) with those questions, he bothers Logan instead. and maybe its because they're talking through text, but he seems considerably more comfortable answering said questions, which is nice because it helps Franco realize that. oh god. there has been a horrible miscommunication

Logan thinks that Alex was getting tired of him, that he was getting sick of Logan's dwindling energy, but Alex thinks that Logan didn't love him. and Franco thinks that both of them are colossal idiots. and so he hatches a plan

he's going to get them back together. somehow. he doesn't actually know how but what he does know is that Logan just got employed so he might be in high spirits which will make this all a lot easier. hopefully

cue an awful lot of blunders and hijinks in which Franco tries and somewhat fails, somewhat succeeds in getting Logan and Alex to interact, and one thing leads to another and the both of them eventually realize that they got it all wrong and that maybe Alex does want Logan around and that Logan loves Alex in the same way and it's all thanks to franco

[stupendousfoxthing]

“If you're a parent of one of the members, allowing your business to become a shrine to a ship is weird and problematic. He is absolutely responsible for what gets posted on site and on official social media.”

I think you are an absolute piece of shit for leaving a comment like this about Jimin’s dad. Why do you taekookers never bother to get your facts straight? “Allowing your business to become shrine to a ship”? Do you think Jimin’s dad spends his time monitoring ships? He allows fans to send gifts and letters to his son and other BTS members not a ship shrine. There are photos and art of Jimin and other members as well as the whole BTS and but you cherry pick just to have a reason to drag him. Jimin and Jungkook are both from Busan where his his Cafe is so it makes sense that fans of Jimin and Jungkook leave gifts there.

“He is responsible for what gets posted on official social media”? What inappropriate thing did he ever post on his social media? Your breed literally misconstrued something, lied about it and went insulting him and you sit here trying to say he is responsible for what gets posted on socmed? Where was this fake activism when Taehyung reposted from an anti of Jimin? I didn’t see you coming out with pitchforks and knives calling him weird and problematic for not checking the account he was reposting from which is something artists are supposed to do. You sit here talking shit about a father supporting and celebrating his son and his friends but I haven’t seen you call out a restaurant literally selling merch of Taekook. That is not weird and problematic. You honestly think that Jimin’s dad is sitting there thinking about ships? Lol

I don’t like to go here but you are too old for shit like this. Shipping has fried your brain so much that you sit on social media arguing about non existent relationships with others like you instead of focusing on filling whatever voids you have in your real lives which causes you to latch onto nonexistent romances to feel some form of happiness or love in your life. What you need is a therapist not sitting on the internet hating on people who did nothing to you. Act your damn age.

So you think that allowing shippers to make your business a shrine to a ship (because that's what the neighbors believe maybe tell them to stop bragging about it if you think they're just setting him up) is not weird and/or problematic, and that he isn't responsible for what gets posted on site or on official (you left that part out) social media? Because I disagree with that. I think what I said is the bare minimum of common sense and I won't back down on that. Now, you're free to think I'm just a piece of shit like I'm free to think certain things are inappropriate. I don’t like to go here but you are too old for shit like this. Act your damn age.

Now that's funny given this discussion. But if I say something like this, I'm the bad guy?

The rest of your ask is just "gotcha" attempts, like you know I'm right when you're scrambling to find something equally or more problematic in your view that you can project onto me but you fail miserably.

[redwayfarers]

not to me, not if it's you

wayfarer. mc/melchior larkspur. set post game. gen, 1,7k words.

Settling down is not a new practice for Melchior. He did, long ago, many a time; he welcomed family and descendants that way too. It is not a bad thing, everything considered. He’d simply forgotten the little details of it. Thankfully for him, he now has someone to pass his knowledge to and thus revise. 

As to the receptiveness of his pupil, well, he cannot say there’s nothing to be desired. It’s hardly Cassander’s fault, though. Being born magiani in a world and a culture that despites your very existence does not yield itself to a lot of domestic bliss. 

“I halfway expect to die in a fight or something,” Cassander says, once. He doesn’t look all too pleased with the world that day. These moods strike him, like an oddly built mechanism, in a way Melchior has yet to decode. “This domestic shit feels unnatural.” 

“Unnatural?” Melchior raises his eyes from the manuscript he’s working on to pointedly stare at him. 

“Yeah! It’s like I’m waiting for a roof to fall over my head, or to trip on my own fucking sword and bleed out in the kitchen! Is this how you people with magic are all the time? Peaceful? Sounds like a fucking scam, that’s what it is. You’re scamming me right now.” 

Melchior knows better than to take the bait. Cassander is simply looking for a fight to calm his nerves. “You can always leave, if that’s what you’d prefer,” Melchior says calmly. 

Cassander huffs. “Work’s scarce. By the time I find any you’ll be who the fuck knows where and this thing between us? Scattered to the wind. Dead and buried. Only fond memories until we both live out our remaining centuries.” 

Melchior stares still. “And do you want that to happen?” 

Cassander holds his gaze for a long time. He taps his fingers on the table, trying so hard to sit still under the onslaught. At some point, however, he drops his hand fully on the table and presses until his nail beds turn pale. “No,” he says, and his voice breaks. “It’s just that– Fuck. Why am I like this?” 

Melchior sighs. Cassander isn’t looking at him, shoulders bent under the weight of his own head. Hair shadows his face against the bright daylight that reflects against the gold in his long ears. Parts of  the tattoos covering his arm hide with him, yet the brightness of the roses on his forearm catches attention. 

Almost enough to make Melchior miss how his shoulders shake. 

Chair creaks as he rises, settling the papers that rustle when his hip catches on them. His slippers make no sound when he rounds the table and comes to stand by Cassander’s side. With a gentle hand, Melchior removes hair from Cassander’s shoulders; the curls, heavy and coarse, seem as ill equipped for such soft touch as Cassander himself. 

Cassander breathes a little cry-laugh. “I’m trying to be miserable here,” he says. “Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“That was not my intent,” Melchior responds. “I was trying to offer solace.” 

Cassander lifts his head and looks Mel in the eye, bewildered. “I know,” he whispers. “I don’t think solace will fix my head, but– Look, I don’t mean half the things I say, okay? Especially not– not this. You con people, sure, but you’re not playing with my heart, and here I am, accusing you of doing your job. No, that sounded wrong. Go scam rich people, I don’t care. Do your job elsewhere. I am not your job. I’m just an impossible to deal with fuckbuddy you keep around for whatever fucking reason and I’m making this even harder for you.” He blinks. “Not like that. Not all the time, anyways. I’m sure you’re not hard for me right now. That’d be weird. You’re angry, right? You’re probably so angry deep down but you’ve seen a lot of nutcases like me–” 

“Cassander,” Melchior says in a low voice. Cassander nods and looks away. “Go weave, or sew. We will talk later, after you’re not one hair’s breadth away from jumping out of your skin.” 

“That’s an order, boss?” Cassander says, in a strange voice. 

“Alternatively, you can kick something,” Melchior adds. He isn’t angry, not really, but he is starting to feel like conversations need to happen later. If today needs a boss, he will step up to the task. “No fights with the crew. We cannot talk when you’re like this.” 

“Got it,” Cassander says, frustrated. He stands up and marches to the door, playing with the tail ends of his hair. He closes them louder than intended; Melchior watches for a few more moments before he sits down again and rubs his face with his hands. 

It is true he is not angry, but he would be lying if he said these moods of Cassander’s didn’t make him exhausted. It is hardly Cassander’s fault, of course; no sane person would choose this kind of suffering. He doesn’t take any of the accusations personally, either. Were he younger, were his life less full of a senseless number of years, perhaps. Now, all he does is sigh deeply and rub his temples. 

He loves Cassander. When he chose to invite him into his life as a partner, he knew it would be through joy and difficult times alike. That same love makes it difficult to watch him struggle, but he knows far too well that Cassander needs to make the call himself. There are people who can help; he just needs to reach out. All Melchior can do is wait and pray. 

The manuscripts glare at him in an accusatory manner. He feels restless. He’s suddenly all too aware of the half-empty cup of tea Cassander had made him, and he downs it with a grunt. 

Someone knocks. 

“Melchior?” Kit’s head peeks through the barely open door. “We need you at the rehearsal. We can’t seem to decode one of the scenes.” 

Good, Melchior thinks. There’s work to be done before he can talk to Cassander properly. That’s good for taking his mind off things a little. 

***

Evening falls on their little troupe. Running a company of actors requires a lot of time and a lot of work, a work Melchior deeply enjoys, and time spent with his people, his friends, never a time wasted. 

However, his thoughts turn, ever so slightly, to Cassander throughout the day. Melchior hasn’t seen him at all since breakfast, and the troupe hasn’t either. He trusts Cassander can take care of himself; he’s a Wayfarer after all. His heart aches a little every time he remembers what had happened, but he brushes it off. 

It is, after all, temporary. 

Cassander finds him when Melchior retreats for a pause. His clothes are fresh, his hair braided away from his face, long and sad. There’s a bruise on his right hand. 

“No civilians were harmed in the making of it,” Cassander says by way of explanation. “I was trying to stick it to the wall. Sero taught me just how hard I can hit it before I break my hand.” 

Melchior blinks. “What?” 

“You never had wall hitting lessons?” Cassander tilts his head. “You never had a don’t rage at other people talk? It was either the wall or some unfortunate fucker. Lots of dwarves today for some reason.” He stops. “I don’t like kicking people while they’re down.” 

“Are you less angry now?” Melchior redirects the conversation and rubs his neck. “Will you bite my head off?” 

“Depends if you’re a dwarf,” Cassander says, in a joking voice. “For real, though, I’m not as on edge as I was today. I don’t know what triggered it, but I did feel like my skin was too tight and I figured talking to people further while I’m like this will just make me feel worse.” He sits on the bed and taps the place beside him. “Uh, I’m sorry about that. How you have the patience for me is beyond my wildest dreams. I would’ve kicked my ass out of here long ago.”

“Fortunately, no such luck,” Melchior responds. He looks at Cassander’s awfully bruised hand. “Where’s your medical kit?” 

“I can do it myself,” Cassander mutters and pouts. It’s unintentional, but delightfully adorable nonetheless. “It doesn’t hurt, it’s not as bad as it looks–” 

“I need your medical kit,” Melchior orders gently. 

“In the first drawer by the bed,” Cassander gives in, putting his hand gingerly on his lap. Melchior takes the kit out and sits beside him. 

“You sweet, poor man,” Melchior whispers and takes Cassander’s hand. He hisses a little when Melchior kisses the bruised knuckles. 

“What are you doing?” His voice goes a pitch higher, embarrassed. 

“Kissing it better,” Melchior simply says and opens a jar of herbal-smelling salve. Cassander doesn’t move his hand away, though he does hold it a little stiffly, when he starts rubbing it into tender flesh. 

“I’m not a kid,” Cassander says - whines - as he stares pointedly at his injured hand. “I can take care of it myself. Sirin taught me well enough–” 

“That I do not doubt, but let me take care of you. You’re not helping anyone by punishing yourself.” 

Cassander looks away. “Go fuck yourself,” he says, with no real heat. He huffs. “I– Fuck off. Just. You don’t– For fuck’s sake.” He sighs deeply and with feeling. 

“What happens when you love someone,” Melchior continues, gently spreading the salve, “is that you will have patience for them and not abandon them when it gets difficult. What happens is you take care of them, even on their bad days, even if they inconvenience you. Because this is a partnership, no?” 

Cassander is quiet. 

“This is a partnership, Cassander, not servitude,” Melchior repeats, massaging his fingers. “I welcome inconvenience from you because it means you are my equal, just as you welcome inconvenience from me.” 

“And the sex thing?” Cassander sounds strained. He flexes his hand.

“That is sex,” Melchior replies. “Relationships are more than just sex. If I ever make you feel like you are not cherished, I trust you’ll tell me.” 

Cassander lets out a chopped breath. He pulls Melchior closer and buries his face in the side of his neck; his eyelashes, wet with tears, tickle Melchior’s skin. 

Melchior puts the salve down and wraps his arms around him, lets his hands rub Cassander’s back and buries one of them gently, yet firmly in his hair. 

One mistake does not make the lesson less worthwhile. 

[selkie-on-land]

Self diagnosis is okay. We all have heard about self diagnosis autism but for weird reasons, well no let's be fair, for ableist reasons it's only when it's about autism that it's not okay. Especially from allistics.

The allistics that screams and cry a river if an autistic person is not professionally diagnosed but they don't have a problem if they do it too. If they are the one doing it, it's perfectly fine and not even seen as self diagnosis!

Example : everyone is self diagnosing themselves a cold, Flu, gastroenteritis etc.

When allistics does this, it's not even considered to be something significant enough to have a name or label on it.

But if an autistic person does this then they are evil attention seeker.

This is typical ableism, autismophobia, misogyny and classism.

It's because we as humans recognise what we are going through, and that what we are going actually is something significant enough to be named that we can and do seek help from other. It's not a bad thing, and also it'd literally a human trait. It's thanks to this natural behaviour that we continue to exist and adapt as a species. And not just human, it's something that ALL the living being are doing.

If you don't understand why this speech of ''self diagnosis autism is not and never valid'' is deeply harmful and discriminatory (I'm guessing you're not a radical feminist if you believe this) I will develop it :

It's ableist and autismophobic because the only exception where it's apparently fundamentally wrong and evil to do so it's when it's an autistic person doing it.

It's misogynistic because of the medical misogyny where the female body is not study or even considered worth to be included in all the medical and health industry, studies, fields. The average age for autistic girls to be diagnosed is in their fourties at most. And not because they are finally by some sort of miracle considered as human beings but because their boys/sons are diagnosed and it's suggested to be ''tested'' because it's genetic. While the average age for boys to be diagnosed is before the age of 7. And autism is a neurodevelopmental and hereditary disorder. Meaning it's there since the beginning of the formation of the nervous system and the formation of the brain. It's already autistic before even being a baby. A lot of autistic women are even diagnosed in their GERIATRIC YEAR! When a lot of autistic men are diagnosed AS BABIES !!! And as the usual, like for ALL the medical conditions, the only trait, aspects, symptoms etc that are teached, studies etc are the one of the male bodies. That's why girls and women are dismissed in medical care, why girls and women are dying of late stages cancer because it's labelled as stress or female condition instead of cancer, that's why we are having heart attacks and stroke also dismissed and even denied because we don't experience similar symptoms and because we are just seen as dolls so we obviously don't have a physiological body.

Also because in my country (France) the ARC (Autism Resource Center), there is one in every state, you can't go to a center from a state you don't live in, there are here to assess autistic person, they are supposed to be the most updated about autism. There are the main specialists, and there are part of the institutions (not sure it's the proper way of saying it, we have universal health care and it's similar to the hospital, it's included). And you know what? More than half of them are denying access for girls and women. MORE THAN HALF OF THEM FORBID THE ENTRANCE OF THE CENTER TO GIRLS AND WOMEN. They also are not updated and have knowledge as if they were still stuck in at least the 1990's for the most updated ones.

It's classist because it coats A LOT of money and ressources. If you can't go to an ARC, there is still the liberal psychiatrist and psychologist, but same shit. They are deeply misogynistic, classist, elitist, ableist as hell. The psycho have more knowledge, they are usually the one that would have formation about autism but since they are not doctors they cannot diagnosed, so they are the one that are doing the assessment and tests, they then does the pre diagnosis (if there is one) and then you have to find a doctor that recognises autism as something real (yes this is where we are in France, Belgium and Switzerland), if you are lucky enough to find one, after some time maybe, the doctor can confirm the analysis of the psychologist and it's then called a diagnosis. Even though most the time they don't even have the slightest formation about autism they have no idea of what is written in the analysis. And ALL of this process is extremely expensive. Only the psychiatrist are covered by our health care system and even if you are covered and don't need to pay, as +85% of them are bourgeois and rich, they are not accepting the insurance you have and will force you to pay them 4 times or even more what you were supposed to pay. And this is IF they tolerate that you are poor and grant you an appointment, which is also extremely rare as more than half of them turn you down the minute they learn about your health insurance covered by the government because you are too poor to have one otherwise. This is just the appointment, all the multiple tests and analysis can coast thousands of euros each appointment. And since we are already disabled we are extremely poor and vulnerable (unless born rich).

So yeah, unless you're extremely wealthy and a boy, having an ''official'' diagnosis is almost impossible.

So the only option left is self diagnosis. And thanks to this we can accommodate ourselves and stop damaging our brains trying to force ourselves to be something we are not. Because yes, being forced to mask, being abuse your entire life for what you are at your core, and sexually abused if you're a girl, cause brain damage. PERMANENT brain damage.

(poll 1/2)

take "valid" to mean that the person can speak on their experiences as an autistic person, speak on accessibility as a disabled person, etc., with the weight that someone professionally diagnosed can. And that they otherwise should be treated the same way as someone with a diagnosis when possible (accommodations).

-🐌

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[shirogane-oushirou]

no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.

i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.

[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!

also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]