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fairuzfan · 1 year ago

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This post is for the anon who sent me that video asking me to debunk it's claims so they can be better equipped against accusations of antisemitism.

Sorry, I won't post the video since I refuse to have that man on my blog but I can give you common Zionist talking points and the illogicality behind it.

To preface: most of the questions Zionists will ask you are a trap, and will make you fall into a "rabbit hole" (as I was once told when I was younger), as we try to apply their reasoning. My advice is to ALWAYS center the humanity of Palestinians. For example, when a Zionist says:

"Don't Jews deserve a homeland to be safe?"

It fundamentally ignores the core issue: Palestinians are being raped, murdered, and expelled from their homes so that the establishment of this so called "homeland" may exist. When people ask this to you, I personally advise saying something like:

Why must Palestinians suffer for the establishment of this homeland?

Always recenter to the issue at hand—the inhumane removal and treatment of Palestinians.

"Palestine belongs to the Jews and Not Muslims"

The whole premise of this claim is flawed—there is a weird tendency to equate Arab/Palestinian=Muslim when it just is like. Completely untrue. There are Palestinian Christians, Bethlehem is famously a Christian city, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Jews, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Muslims, who have been there for centuries. My grandpa told me stories of how he would turn on lamps for his Jewish neighbors in Al-Khalil (or Hebron) during Shabbat.

To claim that Palestine is EITHER Islamic or Jewish doesn't make any sense and completely neglects the fact that dissemination of culture has occurred for centuries, as well as the intermingling of people throughout generations. To somehow assert that for some reason, Jews and Muslims did not have ANYTHING to do with each other—did not create together, did not build families together, did not build culture together, all while being PALESTINIAN—is incredibly racist and nonsensical. "Palestinian" is not a religious identity—it's a cultural and ethnic one.

Also, it does not negate the core issue—Palestinians are being killed, removed, and tortured so that others can live on that land.

"Well what about [something about partitioning land]?"

Honestly like, who cares about the partitioning throughout the 1900 and early 2000s. Sorry, I'm not going to list the whole "partitioning" history nonsense. The whole reason "Israel" exists is because of a Mass Exodus, murder, and rape of Palestinians. Everything after that is rendered obsolete.

"Well, I heard Palestinians allied with Hitler"

I don't know how to tell you this but Palestine was under British Control. No they didn't.

"Israel withdrew from the Gaza and left them to themselves and they put Hammas in charge"

Oh yeah, Israel totally left Gaza, that's why Gazans' water, electricity, internet, and food is completely controlled by Israel (this is sarcasm, Israel still controls basic life in Gaza).

Go back to centering the idea that no human deserves to be shoved into an open-air prison, starved, and controlled. Did you know that the Zionist Entity controls the amount of water Gazans receive, as well as counting their calories to ensure they don't have enough energy on a day to day basis?

"I heard Israel asked Arabs to stay"

Show them these papers and videos when they say this:

youtube

If you can't show them these videos, check in the next point what to say.

"Well the Palestinians left of their own will in 1948"

Palestinians in 1948 didn't "leave." They had heard of how the Zionist Entity was slaughtering Palestinians en masse. Women especially heard stories of rape and sexual violence. They fled from *violence*. Again, from an earlier post, that this was a calculated effort on the Zionist Entity's part to try and get them to "leave" on their own and "abandon" their houses so that they can come in and say "hey, they left on their own so, we can come in and take their houses now."

Anyways, the idea that once you leave your house you can't ever come back to it is incredibly odd to me as an argument on Zionists' part. Like if you leave your house right now to go to the grocery store and you come back and see someone in your house and they're like "sorry dude, this is my house now, you left so that means you can't come back," you'd be like, "what the hell!" It would be even weirder if everyone agreed with the guy who took your house, which is what happened to Palestinians.

In Al-Khalil, or Hebron, Palestinians always have to have someone stay in their house or else a Settler will come in and take it from them. So it still goes on today as well.

This is not a point, but when that one person in the video said "Arabs lived under Israeli rule" and showed a clip of a bustling city with mountains, I'm pretty sure that was Amman, Jordan, not Palestine lol. Those buildings in the mountains look like how downtown Amman builds the residential areas. Could be wrong tho.

"There are no Jews living under Palestinian rule in Palestine"

What is this, some sort of gotcha argument? What are they trying to prove, the racist (obviously false) notion that Palestinians hate Jews as a whole? How do they know no Palestinian Jew lives in Gaza? Also, Settlers in Palestinian Territory exist??? I had never heard this claim before, its incredibly stupid lol. You're automatically a citizen of "Israel" if you're Jewish, whether or not you live in or outside of Palestinian Territories. So of course technically they don't live under Palestinian rule, they're granted full rights as an "Israeli" citizen automatically!

Go back to talking about the inhumane treatment of Palestinians, I wouldn't bring up the above counterpoint unless they really won't let it go since the main point is mistreatment.

"Why are Christians supporting Israel then, if it's a secular issue rather than a religious one?"

Well actually for a couple reasons:

Oil interests and regional control of goods (White People Supporting White People).

Weird fundamentalist ideology where they want to enact the second coming of Christ.

And finally because they are racist and don't think Arab Christians deserve to live. They literally bombed a 1500+ year church the other day. Why would (White) Christians cosign that.

Anyways, its a stupid argument again, because it forgets the core issue of Palestinians dying and being displaced.

In summary, always go back to the point of centering the Palestinians being displaced, tortured, and murdered, no matter the argument a Zionist gives you.

#palestine #gaza #info post #maybe i should do a masterpost with links to palestine education #maybe later #Youtube

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courtana · 7 months ago

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📌 Mutual Aid, Fundraisers, and Actions

a white heart "🤍" denotes GFM campaigns who have reached out to me via in my inbox

I will be updating this as frequently as possible with new information, campaigns, and forms of supporting displaced and vulnerable folks in Palestine, Sudan, DRC, Ukraine, and elsewhere.

Vetted GFM Campaigns 🤝

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🤍 Donate to Hani Al-Sharif [$445 raised of $50,000 goal]

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Palestine 🇵🇸

Donate to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society - humanitarian org serving the health and welfare of the Palestinian people

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Donate to the Sudanese American Physicians Association - provides critical medical aid, food, and water

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Donate to Focus Congo - partnerships with local grassroots organizations and access to resources necessary for survival

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#pinned post

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sunderwight · 1 year ago

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SV fic where Shen Yuan's status as a body-snatching entity is revealed before the Immortal Alliance Conference can happen.

Maybe the system suffers a glitch while some unforeseen side quest is active, and suddenly Shen Yuan's status is revealed and some of the other peak lords he's with seize the opportunity to exorcise his spirit and put Shen Jiu back in his place.

Shen Yuan has mixed feelings about this development, needless to say. On the one hand, it's kind of not actually that bad? He got caught out like a week away from the IAC and the necessary Abyss plotline, so at least like this, he's managed to give Luo Binghe a slightly better time on Qing Jing for the past few years and equip him more capably to survive the Abyss, but he also doesn't have to personally throw him down there. That's the silver lining.

On the other hand, everything else about this situation sucks! He got attached to his life as Shen Qingqiu, dammit! And now he's been revealed and branded as some kind of horrible demonic spirit thing, and he was rather painfully expelled (even though he wasn't even there willingly in the first place), and so he's been reduced to some a kind of sparkly ghost light hovering on the fringes of existence, highly susceptible to being harmed if any more righteous cultivators get it in their heads to disperse him!

Which is better than just being catapulted back into his rotting corpse in the other world, but not by as big of a margin as he'd like.

Basically, in terms of his ability to influence the world Shen Yuan has been downgraded back to "read only" status. He finds that he can manifest himself in places that he's already been, or around people he has a particular affinity towards, but they can't perceive him and he can't communicate or even do much more than some minor poltergeist type activity. Which he is cautious about anyway, because if he gets caught around Shen Jiu, Shen Jiu is going to disperse him with extra prejudice.

Unfortunately, nearly everything Shen Yuan cares about is in Shen Jiu's orbit.

So he can only watch, metaphorically gritting his teeth as the newly-restored Shen Qingqiu kicks Luo Binghe out of the bamboo house, burns all the bridges that Shen Yuan painstakingly rebuilt for him, refuses point blank to let Liu Qingge help with Without-a-Cure, resumes and even begins taking more frequent trips to the nearest brothels, and neglects his duties to turn into a paranoid wreck as if he half-expects Shen Yuan to steal his body back from him the next time he lets his guard down. Corporal punishment spikes back up on Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Yuan is surprised to hear the whispers of dissent, even so. A spirit possessing a righteous cultivator is a pretty damning incident, and there's no way that he could come out of it smelling like roses. And yet, even though his -- Shen Qingqiu's disciples know enough to be circumspect about saying anything of the sort, there are still murmurs and rumblings about how things used to run, not too long ago.

Ming Fan quiets any such talk as soon as he hears it. Ning Yingying scarcely seems to know how to respond to the situation, except to sometimes plaintively insist that she hadn't even noticed much change between Shen Qingqiu's at all. But Luo Binghe...

Well.

Whenever there are mutterings, it often seems as though Binghe is there. Nodding. Whispering. Carefully putting forth suggestions that others barely seem to recognize as suggestions. Shen Yuan only notices because he knows what Binghe's capable of when he decides to be manipulative, and even he finds himself wondering if it's not just a coincidence, something he's imagining, because Luo Binghe hasn't even blackened through his Abyss arc yet.

Even so, there he is, musing carefully on how strange it was that he's heard that Hong Jing hadn't identified any untoward presence in Shen Qingqiu before, how Shizun had never done anything bad to the peak despite all the claims that he'd supposedly been possessed by a malicious entity for years, and wasn't this new Shen Qingqiu acting much more suspicious? Much more malicious? Isn't is the new Shizun who jumps at shadows and talks to people who aren't there, and seems so uneasy in his own skin?

If one had to guess which version was an unstable monster possessing a human's body, and which was the righteous and noble peak lord... ah, well. It's just surprising, isn't it? Luo Binghe would of course never suggest that this new Shen Qingqiu was in actuality the being that had stolen someone else's place. He's surely never second guess the judgment of the peak lords, who claim to have let an interloper among them for YEARS in total ignorance. It's just something to think about.

Alas for Binghe, though a lot of the peak seems inclined to agree with him, he can't win over enough to inspire anything worse than discontent. The "new" Shen Qingqiu does behave a lot more like the one that most of the Qing Jing knew prior to his qi deviation, after all, and it's no mystery why Luo Binghe -- spurned former favorite, now back to being at the bottom of the pecking order -- would be unhappy with the change. Shen Yuan appreciates that this is at least doing a good job of setting up Luo Binghe's altered opinion on his shizun, and he's touched that he made a good enough impression for Binghe to be mad about the sudden regression, but he wishes he could tell Binghe that there's simply nothing to be done about it. That is the real Shen Qingqiu, and Binghe ought to concern himself more with the upcoming conference!

At least, despite being kicked out of the bamboo house, Luo Binghe managed to farm enough good opinion with some of the other disciples during his tenure as Favorite that he doesn't go back to sleeping in the woodshed. Without Shen Qingqiu expressly demanding it, no one would dare, just in case Luo Binghe might regain his status one day. There seems to be an awareness that "evil" Shizun would have made them run laps, but "good" Shizun would now probably whip them half to death in a fit of temper. No one wants to take chances.

Finally, the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around. Shen Yuan can only watch and cheer Binghe on as best as he's able to, even knowing the probable outcome. And Binghe does so well! He fights bravely but also smartly. When Shen Qingqiu arrives, Binghe doesn't lose an ounce of his caution, though he does still nobly defend his master even though the good feelings between them have dried up. He correctly identifies Without-a-Cure's flare up and silently helps compensate for Shen Jiu's weakness, and sticks by him even though the Original Goods is hardly appreciative.

When the Abyss opens up, and Luo Binghe's demonic seal is broken, Shen Qingqiu seems almost relieved to have this information brought to light. He accuses Luo Binghe not only of orchestrating the invasion of demons at the conference, but of arranging fro Shen Jiu to be replaced too.

"Of course, for a demon like you, summoning some wicked force into this master's body would be easy!" he spits.

Luo Binghe looks bowled over by the accusation. But rather than defending himself, he latches onto it as if it might be some kind of lifeline.

"For a demon like this one... it would be possible?" he echoes.

Shen Jiu hurls more accusations. Of course it is. Luo Binghe is not just any demon, but the most powerful, dangerous, and destructive sort there is. Little is beyond the scope of a Heavenly Demon's power, or wretchedness. Luo Binghe must have uncovered his heritage and seen a convenient means of ridding himself of an inconvenient master. Wherever that horrid spirit is now, it's probably just waiting for the next chance to leap back in at Luo Binghe's call!

"Shizun's spirit... that spirit from before, it still exists?" Luo Binghe catches.

"As if you don't know. Beast. Even the sect leader could not destroy your minion completely," Shen Jiu sneers.

"And it would be within my abilities to put it back in your body. Instead of you."

"You won't get the chance."

Shen Jiu stabs Luo Binghe before throwing him into the Abyss. Binghe fights back, but he seems reluctant to injure his shizun, even now.

Shen Yuan supposes that such reluctance won't survive the Abyss. Still, it's emotional for him. That such a little kindness could cause Luo Binghe to hesitate, even at this point, it really speaks to the resilience of hope in Binghe's heart.

Shen Yuan's little ghost light almost follows him down. But the Abyss would be too dangerous for him, even as he is now. He'd be a little mote of spiritual energy, easily gobbled up by any number of creatures in that place, if he wasn't just swept up by the chaotic ambient energies themselves. So he can only stay behind and think some very colorful swear words in Shen Jiu's general direction, until the rift closes and leaves no trace of Luo Binghe behind, except for the shards of Zheng Yang.

The shards are left behind. Shen Yuan finds that he has a little bit of spiritual storage space. Just enough to maybe fit all of them, so he goes and painstakingly uses his limited powers to lift up each piece and drop it in. It takes him hours and hours, but luckily the clean-up of the whole disaster is something that will take months. No one seems inclined to go reclaim Luo Binghe's shattered blade or risk getting too close to the remnants of the rift, even closed. So, Shen Yuan manages.

The next few years prove difficult. Shen Yuan finds that it's hard to retain his presence in the world. His little spirit has dampened considerably, and few things seem to perk him back up. He has more troubles following anyone who isn't Shen Jiu now that Binghe is in the Abyss, and Shen Jiu is depressing as hell to spend time around. He's rotten with kids, sucks at teaching, he has no friends, his health is deteriorating, and Shen Yuan has no interest in seeing what he gets up to in the brothels.

But Binghe is definitely coming back, and Shen Yuan wants to see him again.

His patience is rewarded the first time he finds his consciousness drifting, only to snap back to awareness in a place that's not Qing Jing Peak. He instead finds that he's in an unfamiliar patch of wilderness along a river, watching as Luo Binghe fights a small pack of demonic beasts.

It's definitely not the Endless Abyss. Has it been five years already...? Shen Yuan hadn't thought so, but then again, he's not the best at keeping track of time in this state.

Luo Binghe defeats the beasts, but they land more hits and wound him worse than Shen Yuan would have anticipated. The wounds aren't healing as quick as they should either. Was Binghe poisoned? Or is this a remnant of Shen Yuan's own poor teaching, the clumsiness in sword practice he never totally managed to correct leading somehow to this?

He gets it when Qin Wanyue and several other Huan Hua cultivators show up, however, and Luo Binghe manages to play the righteous cultivator who just survived a harrowing battle role to the hilt. It takes him very little effort to get the Huan Hua disciples to take him back with them and help "patch him up", and soon enough Shen Yuan has front row seats to watch as Binghe ingratiates himself with the sect.

Mostly, Shen Yuan is just relieved to confirm that Binghe did indeed survive, and glad that he's out of the horrible Abyss and in a place where he can rest and eat decent meals and be fawned over by his well-deserved admirers. Though Luo Binghe seems colder even than Shen Yuan expected, especially in some places where a bit of charm would serve him better. He declines outright to address the Palace Master as "shizun", even though he accepts the offer to stay as a guest disciple at Huan Hua Palace, and he is abrupt and aloof towards both Qin Wanyue and the Little Palace Mistress, despite their obvious interest in him.

Binghe doesn't seem to sleep as soundly as he should either. At night he often brings out a dream stone, which Shen Yuan recognizes as an amplification tool from the novel, but it seems that whatever Binghe is trying to search for with it is beyond his reach. Sometimes Shen Yuan imagines he can hear his disciple's voice calling Shizun at night. But always, Binghe is asleep, and there's no one in Huan Hua Palace he has deigned to address like that anyway. It's a trick of his own imagination, missing the days when Luo Binghe could call out and he himself could answer.

Things go mostly according to the plot, with a few disruptions here and there. Luo Binghe seems to be lagging behind on the romantic subplots, but rushing ahead on the vendetta against his old teacher. The Trial of Shen Qingqiu takes place at Jinlan City, with demon instigators who work for Luo Binghe accusing the peak lord of colluding with demons and setting him up to seem like he was involved in the sower attack. Shen Yuan knows, from watching Binghe, that the sower thing was mostly taking advantage of an existing situation to frame Shen Qingqiu. Binghe himself didn't have anything to do with Jinlan's suffering, but is obviously not above using it to his advantage.

Combined with Qiu Haitang's testimony, Shen Qingqiu is arrested and locked up where Luo Binghe can torture and dismember him at will.

However, Binghe... doesn't do that?

Instead he swiftly relocates Shen Qingqiu to a prison in the demon realms, and seems to abandon his concerns with Huan Hua Palace and the righteous cultivation sects altogether. He just leaves them to fight it out amongst themselves, as if he's got no concern with who comes out on top, and in the meanwhile he keeps Shen Qingqiu locked up but surprisingly well-treated?

Despite Shen Qingqiu's obvious terror and vitriol towards him, Luo Binghe forces him to eat nutritious meals, and attends to his health problems, and makes no move to injure him at all. He has nothing good to say to Shen Jiu, but he doesn't hurt him. Yet there is something distinctly weird about the whole dynamic, not at all like someone who has decided to keep a prisoner under ethical conditions for moral reasons or something like that.

Shen Yuan's not sure what to make of it.

In the end, Shen Jiu himself illuminates the situation.

It happens after Shen Jiu has rejected food. Luo Binghe tuts and asks if Shen Jiu suspects it would be poisoned. Shen Jiu sneers at him.

"I know it isn't," he says. "You wouldn't poison this body. I know what you're after."

"Oh? Wise Master Shen figured out this much?" Binghe replies, dry as the fucking desert.

"You're keeping me in this condition because you want to put that thing back in my body!" Shen Jiu accuses.

It takes Shen Yuan a moment to realize that Shen Jiu is referring to him. That he thinks Luo Binghe is keeping him fit and healthy for Shen Yuan's sake.

Wouldn't that be going too far just for some old teacher who was nice?! Yes, he knows that he made an impact on Luo Binghe, but it wasn't hard! Shen Jiu set the bar at the earth's crust, clearing it hardly required the kind of effort or devotion that would inspire an entire elaborate scheme purely on Shen Yuan's behalf!

He can't believe it.

But, Binghe doesn't deny it.

In fact he smiles, his expression somehow conveying that Shen Jiu guessed perfectly correct, but also that there's no good it can do him. Binghe has never looked so much like a piece of PIDW fanart before, with some dark and potent rage simmering just beneath the veneer of his placid smile.

"Shizun should not be referred to so impolitely," Luo Binghe counters. "If anyone in this room is a thing, it is this usurper in front of me."

"Usurper?! In my own body? You're mad."

Binghe tuts.

Master Shen should understand that his claim is contested. After all, if one woman gives birth to a child but then casts it into a river to die, but another fishes the babe out and cradles it to her breast -- which woman deserves to be called that child's mother? Just because Shen Jiu was born into that body, doesn't mean he deserves it more than anyone else.

But even if he did, Luo Binghe wouldn't care. He would kill to get his Shizun back. This isn't really so different from that, is it? And there is no love lost between him and Shen Jiu to make him hesitate. If his Shizun disagrees, he may disciple Binghe as he sees fit once he returns.

Shen Jiu points out that Luo Binghe's machinations have ruined his reputation. Even if he gets that creature to possess his body again, there's no way that they could infiltrate Cang Qiong Sect a second time.

But Binghe waves off his concerns. He clearly has thought of this, and has plans for it, but is also not about to be stupid enough to monologue any more at Shen Jiu. Once he leaves, Shen Yuan lingers for a little while, and notices that Shen Jiu actually seems genuinely concerned about what might happen to the sect if Luo Binghe succeeds and gets Shen Yuan put back on Qing Jing Peak.

Of course, Shen Yuan knows he wouldn't actually do anything to harm Cang Qiong, but Shen Jiu doesn't. This is the first time Shen Yuan has seen him actually reveal shades of what might be called a noble impulse.

It's not much, but... sigh.

The thing is, Shen Yuan doesn't really want to steal anybody's body! No one consulted with him the first time it happened! And they sure aren't consulting with him now, either, although to be fair they can't. But he might just have enough ability as a little ghost light to stave off some of this whole process, and he's got to decide if he wants to try. Or if he'll let Binghe have his way, and succeed in pushing Shen Jiu back out and giving Shen Yuan his life again.

Because Binghe will definitely succeed if he really does try. That's how the world works.

And if he did... that might be the only way for Shen Yuan to get his life as Shen Qingqiu back. Which he does want, desperately! He misses it. He misses it both in the general sense of having a body at all, but also in the particular sense of all the things he managed to attain as Qing Jing Peak Lord. As Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu, also, makes a very tempting sacrifice in all this. Shen Yuan frankly hates his guts. Maybe it could have been different, but the fact that Shen Yuan worked so hard to try and make that life better, only for Shen Jiu to just go right back to being an intractable asshole who, frankly, should never be in charge of children ever, rankles! He went right back to mistreating Luo Binghe as well, and threw him into the Abyss, and if Binghe's plan was to violently kill him again as revenge for that then Shen Yuan wouldn't fault him. He didn't fault him the first time. He wasn't going to fault him even when it seemed like he would be the one Binghe was destined to rip apart in justified vengeance.

This is different, though. Shen Yuan wants to fight for the life he longs to be living, especially now when the axe of the Abyss is no longer hanging over him.

But is he willing to actually become the thing everyone else decided he was in order to get it? A body-snatching, malicious spirit?

Shen Jiu is horribly unsuited to his life as Shen Qingqiu. But, it is still his life. Shen Yuan really just managed to borrow it for a while.

Deep down he knows that, even if he would like to ignore it.

So when Binghe finally sets up the ceremony, and Shen Yuan's soul is called back into Shen Qingqiu's body, he hesitates. Shen Jiu is poised like a snarling, wounded animal within the confines of his own body. Even the gentlest tap would knock him back out again. Shen Yuan gets the sense that the system is also there, just waiting and even eager for him to do it. Take back the body, resume whatever quests or directives are waiting for him there.

Shen Yuan, even as fragile as his own spirit is, could crush Shen Jiu's battered soul to dust.

Instead he withdraws.

Binghe tries the ritual again, and again, and each time Shen Yuan feels stronger. But it doesn't matter, because he doesn't want to be an evil body-stealing parasite! He wishes he could just tell Binghe to stop wasting valuable resources on this, especially when Binghe could be focusing on other, more important things! Like building up happy relationships or consolidating his rule of the demon realms or establishing an actual strong foothold in the human world, or something!

Somehow, Shen Jiu figures this out before Luo Binghe does. Of course, he conveys the information in the worst way possible, snidely wondering what Luo Binghe did to alienate "that creature" he's trying so hard to resurrect so badly that it will refuse even the open, glowing invitation he keeps writing for it!

Excuse you, you miserable old man, Shen Yuan isn't avoiding Binghe! He is facing a very difficult moral dilemma and handling it LIKE A CHAMP! Fuck you!

Unfortunately, even though Shen Jiu has decided that Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan were in cahoots about the first body snatch, Luo Binghe knows that they weren't. He also doesn't know that his old Shizun knew full well that he was a Heavenly Demon the whole time. So now he has a lot of doubts to wrestle with, especially give that, despite the consensus of the rest of the world, Luo Binghe is not convinced that Shen Yuan actually is some kind of demonic spirit.

Maybe he's a good spirit that has rejected Binghe for his wretched blood?

But Shizun always said that things like that didn't matter!

So... maybe it's not his blood. Maybe Binghe's actions are what has caused Shizun to forsake him. All the terrible things he did to survive the Abyss, and the machinations afterwards, framing Shen Qingqiu and imprisoning him, setting himself up as a demonic ruler... all of that.

Binghe entreats his Shizun to forgive him. Or even if he won't forgive him, to still come back. Binghe will... stay away, if that's what Shizun wants. Just so long as Shizun is alive, is somewhere in the world, safe and happy, then... then...

He can't quite get through lying to claim that it would be enough. But it would be better than the current situation, so he tries.

Shen Yuan, luckily, has been juiced up enough from all the failed summoning rituals that later that night, he finally recognizes the little whisper-calls as echoes of Luo Binghe's dreams. And he's strong enough to follow the invitations! He goes to visit Binghe in his dreams, and reassures him that he's not trying to reject him at all. He's very proud of Binghe, and wants him to be happy and successful. Binghe could rule the world and Shizun would just cheer him on!

It's just that Shen Yuan never willingly possessed Shen Qingqiu in the first place. He misses his life, but given the choice, he doesn't want to be that kind of entity.

So, new plan -- if Shen Yuan won't take a body off of an undeserving asshole, then Binghe will make him a new body! Luckily, Shen Yuan knows a way to grow one. They "borrow" some genetic materials from Shen Jiu to aid the process, and then Luo Binghe, surprisingly indifferent about the whole thing, cuts Shen Jiu loose at the border.

Shen Yuan is surprised. Binghe really doesn't care about that? Turns out no, not so much. Shen Jiu is awful, but he's nothing to Binghe in the long run. (Also it's a long shot but if nothing else does work Binghe might have to force Shen Yuan to take Shen Qingqiu's body back, though of course he's not about to say so, and anyway Shen Jiu is still going to have a hell of a time waiting for him back in the cultivation world. Luo Binghe wishes him luck and every pleasure of trying to clear his ruined name, living a life on the lamb with an insidious poison constantly eating away at him, or the full enjoyment of a second visit to the water prison, whichever ends up happening.)

With the help of Luo Binghe's blood parasites, the Sun and Moon Dew whatever mushroom body grows in record time. A summoning ritual isn't even required, Shen Yuan just scoots right in as soon as the body is ready and blinks his eyes open to see his anxious disciple's face peering back at him.

Happily ever after!

#bingqiu #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #long post #and I'm sure that nothing else subsequently goes awry or drags anyone into further dramatic plots #shen jiu absolutely got the system by the way #it's in that body #he was SO confused #but didn't want anyone to think he was still possessed or anything either so he didn't tell anyone about it #lbh downplays it but he is REALLY BIG MAD about how that whole possession plot/reveal went down #oh so everyone's just going to assume the spirit possessing the asshole peak lord was malicious?#yeah luo binghe's not letting that go any time soon

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enbyofgore · 8 months ago

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As someone who regularly works with audio equipment, all you robotfuckers have completely neglected the concept of messing with her equalizer until she physically can't make sounds other than high pitched moans and squeaks

#robot fucker #eq

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bluecookies02 · 1 month ago

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Viktor x Wife!Reader

Marriage headcanons that nobody asked for. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

word count : 0.5k

cw: none

Being his wife is a chore and a half.

The limited time spent together, the stress of his job, the snappy attitude he gets when he's being swarmed with deadlines, inventions, investors, the council....

But then he's waking you up early every morning, just so he could spend those sweet 30 minutes before he has to leave for work, having tea or coffee with you until the very last moment. Then he's texting you during every 5 minute break he takes, and if the occasion allows, he calls.

At night he's tiptoeing into bed as to not wake you(you hear his cane from the hallway), laying perfectly still until he can't help but put an arm over you, or touch your legs together. It's endearing to watch him hold his breath as you pretend you've fallen asleep.

If he notices that his research kept him away too much that month, he will start inviting you to his lab. He won't have a lot of time to give you his full attention, but he will scrap up those sneaky little moments until they add up to something significant. He lives hoping that it's enough, and he's always battling with himself, knowing that you deserve more.

He is giving you everything he possibly can. You know this. His time off is scarce and pitiful, yet it's almost exclusively spent with you. Time holds more weight, when it's coming from him, rather then it would if you were with anyone else.

Despite what many people think, he comes to not reject PDA. All within social norms of-course. He holds your hand and he lets you kiss him without much complaint(he secretly likes it bc it boosts his ego a lil). It took him getting that comfortable over the years but it's wonderful.

He isn't an initiator. That can make you feel moody and neglected at occasions. He also can't say a mouthful of loving words to you, it's impossible for him, like there's some sort of a lump in his throat that will never let him.

He will reply to your "I love you's" but he will rarely be the first to say it. He more often says things that look like love confessions if you squint. He makes up for it by being touchy. Puts your legs on his lap when you're resting together, pets your waist or your stomach while you're sprawled out on the couch, softly squeezes your shoulder...etc etc

The worst part of your relationship comes when he fully shuts down emotionally. You had to learn to navigate these sudden switch ups. They used to upset you a lot, they still can if you're being honest. If you do or say the wrong thing, he will say so many ugly things that stab right into your heart, with intention to hurt you and make you hate him, because under that anger is guilt of 'wasting your time' and feelings of complete inadequacy to keep you happy.

He does his job with an insane amount of passion, and that's one of the main reasons why setbacks or pulled fundings easily get him in this state.

You used to have screaming matches, dramatic throwing of your rings to the floor, slamming doors and leaving the apartment...All excepted considering you married quite young.

Now, to save you both the emotional toll it left on you, he tries to shut into his lab for a bit to calm down and you try not to nurture his self sabotage if it comes to it. It isn't the healthiest but it does work.

You recognize when he starts getting intentionally mean and you completely ruin his plans by leaving the room and telling him to get his shit together and come to bed once he's equipped to act like a proper husband you know he is. These become more rare the longer you're together aswell, because the security into your relationship grows exponentially with time (they come back full force once his disease progresses...please don't let him push you away🥹)

idek where i was going with this, i just want this man as my husband.

These are like, delulu headcanons, i have plenty different ones for when I am not feeling biased. For one, this dude ain't marrying anyone, at least not legally.

#arcane viktor #arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

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x : CALL ME BACK : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.

warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.

a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!

Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.

It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared.

(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.

To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.

He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.

So where are the messages he was waiting for?)

Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list.

He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.

It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way.

The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way.

Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.

“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”

You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight.

You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him.

“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”

“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?”

He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.”

Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort.

“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline.

Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.”

After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you.

“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”

Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude.

Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.

“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.

“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”

“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”

“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”

“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted.

It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.

“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”

Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”

(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)

“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask.

“Were you disappointed?”

“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”

Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”

“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.”

Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it.

You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.

“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your laughter is even more so.

Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that.

“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”

“Normally, they don’t.”

“So, I’m a special case then?”

“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”

“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!”

Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%.

And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.

Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.

You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”

(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)

“I like you when you’re quiet.”

“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”

“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”

“Were you worried for me?”

Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”

“Cannot wait.”

“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!”

‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.

The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.

“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”

“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”

“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!”

You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.

Everything’s alright when you call him back.

#earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader #tumblr please show this in the tags

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occamstfs · 3 months ago

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In The Rink: Dunks

After moving far away from home Duncan seeks to find new community with the local hockey team. Little does he know that the Captain sees the potential for him to be a new star player.

My little reward for HairyJockTf went a little long so I broke it up into two stories haha! Hope you enjoy this ode to hair growth, jock stink, and hockey! -Occam

The sound of a puck sailing across the ice echoes through the freezing stadium, accompanied by the sound of the massive men racing to catch it. Skates on their massive feet send flurries of shaved ice up in their wake as they zip and turn in shocking displays of brutish grace. When bodies start to collide and fists start to fly in what Duncan Worthy thought was just a fun little scrimmage game he imagines how quickly he would be laid out in such a brawl and begins to hunt for the nearest exit.

Almost as swiftly as the fight broke out however, coaches call their men to heel and the teams separate. After a second longer of posting up, all return to the game and seem almost playful in the wake of what seemed like genuine violence. Suddenly realizing this is far more a bloodsport than he was aware, Duncan starts backing away sheepishly. Though he was looking for a team sport to find prepackaged community after his move from the south, clearly ice hockey was not the move.

Unfortunately for the suddenly shy Duncan, his attendance today was initiated by him reaching out to one of the players soaring down the ice, Matt King, the team captain. As the burly player turns to see Duncan begin to skulk away he calls his coach to pause the practice and less than a moment later Matt skates to the edge of the rink and begins shouting for Duncan’s attention, “YO! Worthy!” His impressive arms seem even bulkier covered in the thick obscenely large uniform he’s wearing. Duncan audibly gulps, though thankfully he’s far enough away from the athlete that he could scarcely hear.

Duncan isn’t sure why he’s frozen in place, seemingly trapped by Matt’s attention. The skater rolls his eyes as he calls out once more, “Hey kid! Are you coming or what?!” Despite himself he starts walking down rinkside. It’s not like he’s not athletic, Duncan’s healthy, he prides himself on staying fit, lithe. But as he nears Matt it just becomes clear that he bit off far more than he could chew. Even without skates the captain stands well over a head taller than him. Duncan struggles to speak while everything in him begs him to leave with his tail between his legs and never come back. Realizing that Matt is staring down at him expectantly, demanding a response, he speaks up unprepared as he may be, “Well, uhm Matt-”

“Nah nah, call me Kinger, bud. So youse think you’re ready to hop on the ice eh?” Duncan feels his bones turn to jelly as every neuron struggles to heed his flight response. There is simply no recourse but to escape, he’s too small, they’re too intimidating, they’ll break him in half completely accidentally. But he remains firmly rooted in the captain’s gaze. Kinger whistles to the equipment manager to summon some skates for Duncan and the sound forces the fearful man to attention. His shaky hands grow rigid as the older man approaches with a pair of skates. “See ya out on the rink Worthy!”

Kinger turns and gets back to the game. Duncan’s preylike instincts are overpowered by the man’s words. Though from any reasonable angle it’s just a phrase in parting, they sear into his mind like programming. See ya out on the rink. Pausing to watch the game resume, the desire to leave wanes as he sees the men grind against each other after the puck. Certainly looks like they’re having fun right? Wearing all that protection, how bad could it be? How bad could he be? Sitting down he changes into the smallest pair of skates the team had for him, even still his toes have about an extra inch of wiggle room. Neglecting to take that as yet another sign to back out, Duncan hops up on the wall and then he’s on the ice.

Still finding his bearings he slides along and sticks to the wall. The manager tosses him a stick and the coach implores he get used to moving around on the ice. Duncan sighs and, despite his limited experience skating, finds himself immediately moving with intuitive familiarity. Faster than he can comprehend it becomes second nature, allowing his attention return to the burly men on the far side of the rink going at it. Soon enough he can’t even remember what he was so scared of, excitement begins to build in his chest as he begins to follow the puck from afar.

From his vantage point he races with a fluidity alien to himself, as if the skates have imbued him with a lifetime of experience skating. Chewing his lip he has a stray thought wondering about wearing a mouthguard which he promptly discards, lest it interfere with his keeping up with the puck. Eagerness to properly join in the fray with the crew of men who outsize him before even accounting for their bulky pads continues to burn within him, he scratches at his chest and finds his tee hugging his torso in a distinctly odd manner. And man, beyond whatever butterflies hide in his chest, his skin is itchy enough that he should be concerned about an allergic reaction.

But no, no time. He’s gotta keep his mental. The puck goes long and flies towards him. Both teams follow the puck hungrily with their eyes before it nears the man who holds a hockey stick for the first time. He doesn't think as he moves, he doesn’t need to. It’s as if he were made for this. The sound of his stick making contact sends a crack through the stadium that echoes louder than a gunshot. The puck shoots past the men who now stand with mouths agape. He stands tall with pride, seemingly taller than he’s ever stood before. Must be the skates he thinks with a newfound cocky smirk across his face, but as his midriff is clearly exposed, the few hairs compromising his meager treasure trail fluttering in the aircon, it is clear something has changed in the man.

Practice is cut short soon after and Duncan has an immediate meeting with the Captain and Coach. Off the ice the confidence that filled Duncan begins to seep away, certainly not helped by the fact that he apparently threw on a shirt a couple sizes too small. He blushes as the older coach puts his hand out for a shake and his arm goes an embarrassing length past his sleeve. The coach simply smiles and nods though, and before Kinger even gets a chance to vouch for the newbie he’s already on the team. Duncan doesn’t notice as his shoes have apparently inched to fill the skates that were a size too large as his head begins to swim with the excitement of being out there with the boys.

His shirt hugs his chest even tighter as Kinger pats him on the back, “Welcome to the team Worthy!” Duncan smiles looking up at his captain and while struggling to get his shoes to fit he speaks up only to hear the first voice crack he’s had in a decade, “Ah well, then yoOu- Ah!” His mouth slams hard enough it seems to be welded shut as he clears his throat. Kinger smirks and ruffles the newbie’s hair laughing, “Howsabout you go shave up and take a shower. Wear that tarp any longer you’ll have to peel ‘er off, hah!”

With that he leaves Duncan behind and heads off to the locker room leaving his new teammate behind to take in his words. Shave? He scratches his cheek and tilts his head as he finds more stubble than he thought he left the house with. Guess it must have been a week since he shaved he guesses. Putting it on the todo list he then sniffs himself and grimaces as he finds himself muskier than he’s been after his sweatiest workout. There’s an audible sound as he pulls his sticky shirt from his skin which convinces him to expedite his time out of here. Still unable to get his shoes off he finds a pair of tennis shoes left with the equipment given to him and throws them on.

It takes a few steps for him to get used to them, despite his complaints to the equipment manager these tennis shoes are even larger than the skates he was given. Though feeling cramped in every other piece of clothing he finds himself not quite minding the room. Hopping in his car to drive home he furrows his brow as he finds himself needing to adjust all his mirrors. His new odor rapidly fills the car, overpowering the smell of his pristine equipment with ease as he speeds off to clean off the stink of his first practice.

Storming into his apartment he struggles to tear his clothes off en route to the bath. His sweaty shirt gets stuck on his shoulders as he tries to yank it upward, exposing a core thicker, his waist seemingly filled out from the hourglass figure he has unintentionally maintained. Beyond that his treasure trail seems to be claiming far more real estate as it flourishes upwards and outwards, curls as thick and long as his pubes begin an ascent above his waistline as they begin to shade the whole of his lower stomach.

No time for inspection however as he starts the shower going as soon as he gets the shirt off, grimacing at the clear tearing sounds of fabric giving way. Arms still upraised he quickly turns away from his steaming pits, quick enough that he notices not how his few curls have begun to multiply. Instead he leans in close to see the stubble that Kinger called out. He twists his jaw to get a good look at every angle and rolls his eyes as he finds it as patchy as ever. His eyes glaze over and his jaw slackens as he finds himself briefly distracted by a thought, or no, a memory?

The rink always brings out a rookie’s stubble Matt- It’ll just grow back. Why shave when that’s time you can spend on the ice?

He comes to before he even notices he was out, his thicker hand scratching at stubble that is thicker, darker than it was seemingly seconds earlier. Duncan certainly doesn’t mind though, seeing his beard fill in more, becoming stubble he can be proud of fills him with a surge of pride, and below the belt something else begins to surge. He smirks as he contemplates whether he should masturbate before or after taking a shower, grasping at his cock and finding it weightier than usual he quickly makes up his mind. What the hell, why wait.

Then his phone rings, a message from his Captain. His cock twitches as he focuses in on the message, “yo worthy sry for not askin earlier- oilers v flyers 2nite, u down 2 come over” Without a thought or second of hesitation he replies “ya” and he begins getting ready to go. Turning off the shower before even stepping inside he remembers he still stinks and bathes himself in cologne, smirking as he stares at his body in the mirror, proud as he sees his paltry patch of chest hair seems larger, thicker than he remembers it being. He pokes at a new weight on his chest and fights the urge to flex his barely existent muscle as every movement seems to have a bit more force behind it.

Duncan pointedly avoids questioning new idiosyncrasies as they begin to pop up. Surely he didn’t just douse himself in Axe instead of showering? Why does he know where Kinger lives? When he goes to his wardrobe he finds most of his clothes simply do not fit right. Button ups struggle to close across his chest and thicker waist. He struggles to move his arms in tees and sweaters as they hug his shoulders. Nothing without an elastic waistband seems to be able to manage stretching around his ass. Throwing on his new tennis shoes as they seem to be the only ones that fit he finds them almost snug?

Every roadblock causes micro-headaches. Questioning them only exacerbates the issue, while acceptance ameliorates. Throwing on sweatpants and the baggiest shirt he could find, Duncan doesn’t even give himself a once over before he’s out the door. On the road once more he only keeps one hand on the wheel while the other mindlessly feels himself up. His stomach is tighter for sure, with an alluring amount of give. New pecs pop out just far enough for his hand to push up on them, which allows him realize that any amount of excitement will cause his larger bulge to show in his sweatpants. No time to debate how he’ll conceal that from the Captain he wanders up to the front door and prepares himself.

As if Kinger knew he was standing there, the door swings open and the Captain’s thrown his arms around Duncan’s wider shoulders. His thick palms slam into the newbie’s back with enough force to send him falling on his face. Presently each slam only sends more pleasure into Duncan. Feeling his player’s package unmistakable poking into his own waist at the embrace, Kinger clicks his tongue, “Ah excited to see me eh? Hah! Be sure not to lose control bud, need all of youse out on the rink.” Released from the bro-hug Duncan gulps and blushes as he is less than certain he will be able to go long at all without giving in to desire burning stronger than ever.

Seeing doubt in his expression Kinger’s friendly eyes switch to something far more commanding and Duncan stands rigid. Gotta listen to the Captain. Watching stubble thicken and the once baggy shirt tighten even further on his broad shoulders, Kinger returns to joviality and points to a stack of pizzas on the coffee table, “You hungry bud?” Duncan suddenly feels an emptiness in his stomach and wonders when the last time he ate even was as he feels a hunger more ravenous than he could understand overtake him. His mouth waters like a drooling dog as he mindlessly goes to tear open a box. Already stuffing his face he takes in the number of boxes and asks, with uncharacteristic slovenliness, “Scho, uhhh is more of the team coming or wha?”

Kinger smirks and stands behind the smaller man, massaging his shoulders, “Nono those are just for us, didja forget how much food youse demolish bud?” Looking at the stack he knows that can’t be right, he’s never even had the need to exercise moderation. The idea of eating more than four slices is anathema, and yet less than a minute into the game he’s already starting his fifth and his stomach demands more yet. Kinger watches the man feast, knowing his newest teammate needs all the calories he can get as his body struggles to put on pounds at a speed eldritch. Shoulders broadening enough to be shoulder pads themselves as chest hair begins to bloom far beyond the small patch that has long made its home in the center of his chest.

Spreading out like a fungus, follicles neglected by puberty go into overdrive as his greasy hands funnel food into him, getting grease over stubble that begins to crest its way into a solid beard. Duncan is unaware as he demolishes the first box of pizza by himself as he is completely absorbed into the game on TV. Reacting to each play as if he were in the actual stadium. His legs bounce with anxiety as the players race across the rink, each time shooting up with more force as they bulk up. His expanding jungle of pubes, discontent from spreading upwards alone, send dense curls to shade his inner thighs before shooting down to cover his calves.

Kinger moves to sit on the couch, attention solely focused on his team’s growing asset. His eyes struggle to keep up with the changes simultaneously rocketing across his body. Already he hears the elastic waistband of his sweatpants straining, Duncan’s, or rather Dunks’, butt filling out to the size needed to maneuver such an otherwise powerful form on the ice. The most powerful ass in the MLB has nothing on the monumental pair of cheeks that are a moment away from sending a tear through his sweats. Making an uncomfortable face Duncan kicks off his shoes before they begin to tear. Glancing down, Kinger finds he doesn't have the care to finish the job and remove socks that have similarly begun to turn to tatters. Curls spreading down from his meaty calves poke through the expanding holes on his tearing socks. His feet rapidly become hairy fins that would fit on any number of fantastic bestial men, toes surging through the front of his socks as he flexes his feet without thought.

The Captain jumps in shock as Dunks stands with a start and shouts at the ref, his voice clearly deeper, rougher, as spit flies from his mouth in a rage. Beard thickening as his neck similarly expands with his deluge of expletives at the man in stripes. Kinger puts a hand on Dunks’ arm to calm him down, “Hey hey bud, save it for your own penalties eh?” Clenching his jaw the newbie looks down and at the Captain’s words crosses his arms and barely stilling his anger at Kinger’s request. The man’s hand still resting on Dunks’ arm, both men turn to see the growing package not at all hidden in Dunks’ sweatpants as the sound of it tearing through his briefs resounds in the small living room.

Scratching at his meatier pecs he sits down and after a moment of hungrily staring at his Captain he rolls his eyes and returns to the game. His biceps are suddenly constricted by his sleeves so he does what any rational mind would and rips them off. Kinger’s mouth is ajar as he watches the increasingly brutish man toss the torn sleeves to the floor before scratching deep into his pits and sniffing. The Captain doesn’t pay much attention to the jungle of hair spreading out from Dunks’ pits, after all that doesn’t bring anything to the rink, but he would need to lose a few of his five senses to not notice how potent the changes are there.

Patches of sweat appear all over the shirt that now hugs his burgeoning torso like lycra. But nowhere so prominent as under the still-expanding jungle of hair under his arms, musk thick enough to warrant stink lines, enough to knock a lesser man unconscious spills from his freed underarms. Eyes glancing over to see his Captain cover his nose in shock, Dunc smirks as he realizes how much power he holds. He grunts in his new barbaric voice as his pecs can no longer be hidden by his ratty shirt. Unwilling to hide his pride under a bushel, just as he removed his sleeves he wrenches his shirt off. This was of course made easier by the litany of tears sundered across it by his expanding torso.

His breath catches in his chest as his pecs burst larger into the open air. Thick strands drip with sweat as they spread dense enough to be a pelt across his upper body. Moaning as he leans back on the couch, hair rapidly covers every inch of real estate it can find, connecting every disparate patch from pubes, to pits, to the scratchy underside of his neck. Expanding shoulders similarly aren’t safe as curls bound across them to meet with the itchy forest spreading up the small of his back. He shifts uncomfortably as thick strands similarly cover his ass, though somewhere in between slamming pizzas and screaming at referees he lost the shame to scratch such an itch in front of his Captain, and so he does.

Kinger struggles to hide the grin on his face as the man in front of him becomes the enforcer he’s always dreamed of having on his team. He watches as the changes in his mind finally begin to show on his face. His brow thickens to hang over eyes that grow dull to anything but hockey. His iron jaw hardens over a beard that should have taken years to grow while his nose becomes one that has clearly taken more than a punch or two. It’s unclear how many of his front teeth or real or inserts, though something in the minds of both men makes it clear that they’ve seen his own teeth scatter across the ice on a handful of occasions, though not nearly as much as those of his opponents.

Kinger’s chest flutters with excitement as he imagines being on the pitch with Dunks. His own eye twitches as years of playing together begins to fill his mind. He’s always dreamed about having a teammate as committed to the game as he is and finally he’s got a brute enough to carry them to the trophy. Seeing the behemoth taking heaving breaths on his couch, torn clothing scattered around him, Kinger can’t quite help but feel there is some vital piece of the puzzle missing. The burly man’s hands trail to his crotch as every muscle in his body feels the need to give into lusts that control him but Kinger whistles and Dunks immediately halts his giving in, “Not yet bud, not yet. Gotta hit the rink first.”

Dunks’ mind fractures and remakes itself in a moment. Memories of over a decade playing surges into his mind. He remembers starting out a waif, as he was in reality this morning. He remembers hardening over the years alongside his captain, alongside Kinger. Becoming a man on the rink, becoming an unstoppable titan. Maturing into an athlete the likes of which his team's never seen, and with each leap forward in ability so to does he become more masculine, more virile, more of a man. No, more of a beast, higher function giving way to instinct and physicality. Kinger couldn’t be prouder, and until another reason presents itself he can think of no higher goal.

Coach never expected Dunks to be nearly as much of an asset as he ended up being. The hairy brute was always looking out for his Captain’s back, truly a tank on the rink. Often he would struggle to control his urges, on and off the ice, but a look from Kinger would always snap him back in line and empower him to come back even stronger, sometimes seemingly literally so. He never took more than two trips to the penalty box a game despite his ever-present urges to truly dominate his opponents.

After months of success on the rink it becomes clear that Dunks’ virility is making him a bit of a loose cannon. Lucky for the both of them Kinger has an idea. When an old friend of Duncan’s reaches out to the team to inquire of Worthy, Kinger implores him to visit. While it would be unbecoming for the Captain to have a relationship with a member of the team it was clear that Dunks’ has long been in need of some manly relief.

As he’s drafting a letter with a one way plane ticket to Dunks’ once-friend he wryly smiles as he realizes exactly what the missing piece was all along, their team could use exactly one more player and if this Remy Woods ends up being even a fraction of his friend, there is no way for them to lose.

Continue Reading with In The Rink: Woodie!

#male tf #mental change #hair growth #dumber #muscle tf #male transformation #masculinization #jockification

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