#i was confused while writing this

[sillypoetproject]

Heart

in their open palms is a heart

still slowly beating as blood drips down their arms

and with a gentle squeeze of their bloodied fingertips

down their arms, the blood slowly drips

and to their face, they bring this heart

so they can see it clearly in front of their eyes

and with one quick breath

the smell of death

surrounds them like some sort of prize

and oh it is you who they felled

gazing upon your pale face as they consume you whole

and oh the sight was one they beheld,

sticky red hands covering their equally red face as the room suddenly went cold

“you beast”, a quiet voice whispered,

a snakelike lilt in it’s words

“you kill and you feast while forever they’ll sleep, all because you wanted your sick comforts”

now usually their skin is thick, tough as a crocodile’s hide

but their hands shook and a whimper escaped their throat as they felt a hit to their pride

“i know they loved me most,” they said weakly after swallowing the sinew in their mouth

“and i warned them beforehand that the taste of their heart was not something i could go without”

and so the room went quiet

as they went to devour the flesh in their hands,

but before their teeth could embrace the meat

the voice pulled them out of their head

“you bring only destruction,” it hissed, “culling all those you see struggling,

and to me, it seems you are entirely unaware of the monster you are slowly becoming”

and with a frown they lowered their arms, laying their hands fisted upon their upper legs,

once more gently squeezing the heart between their fingers as they thought about their new regrets

“i am not a monster,” they said, voice cracking from disuse, “they gave me permission to disembowel them in hopes that within their body i would find use”

the voice went silent as the person spoke, their words said clearly and true

and they stood from their crouch and spun around so the disembodied voice could enjoy the view

if the voice had eyes it would see

a bloody figure with bloody hands holding a bloody heart

in front of a warm corpse

frowning in all directions as they slowly started to mourn

and with great sadness, the disheveled figure began to speak, once again raising the heart to hold it against the side of their face as the organ continued to bleed

“we are close in ways it is hard to describe”, they said,

“because while we like sharing traumatizing stories

of traumatized children

trying to live their traumatic lives

we also understand that these stories are our memories

that our traumatized brains provide”

and as they spoke they stared down at the body,

at the corpse decaying before their very eyes,

and they started to sputter as tears overflowed and their body started shaking with cries

“i didn’t really want to kill you,” they said aloud, speaking to the cadaver in front of them,

“i didn’t mean to make it permanent

but now there are maggots under your skin,

and i’ve never felt so torn

so i’ll take your heart and eat it all up until it is finally gone”

the being heard no more voice, nothing to combat them anymore

and with some sick glee, they fell to their knees beside the body once more

“you love me and i love you,” they whispered,

“and now forever we will be,

for in my stomach, your heart will lay,

right where it should be”

with that, the figure kissed the body, once on both of its cheeks

and they raised the heart, clenched in their fists, to devour the sacred meat

[crabsnpersimmons]

Sun! Sun! MaKe mE SpRiNg RoLlS PlEaSE

‐hungry anon-

oooh springs rolls sound yum! what kind of spring rolls are your favourite?

[astradyke]

I would adore a deep dive into your thoughts on Phil’s quiet but wonderful way of showing his love for Dan being through photos

hi, i’m sorry i’m responding so late to this, but i really appreciate you enabling me here because i do seriously think about this constantly. i don’t know if i have the words to articulate it, though, so… bear with me. i'd quite like to try.

nobody loves in just a singular way, that’s the preface to this. when i say that Dan loves through words and Phil loves through photography, i don’t mean that Dan doesn’t use photography as an act of love— because there is a polaroid, in their house, of Phil that Dan took— and i don’t mean that Phil has never said something profound about Dan, because we all remember how he talked about Dan’s book at the end of the haircut video (19:13). i, at the very least, never really left the parts at the end of what Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2 where Phil constantly amplifies the work Dan is trying to do, unmasking his own frustrations at the struggles Dan has to experience, and meets Dan's self deprecation with affection (here's that dissertation) (19:57). Dan may use words in a very abstract, artistic way, professing his love for Phil as a ‘soulmate’, an unmatched connection, but Phil still has a careful, casual way of endlessly maneuvering himself to stand by Dan’s side. etc. and of course, there are five thousand other ways to adore a person. Dan and Phil do a little bit of everything; we are lucky to see a spare few snippets.

all that said, let’s talk about photography, yeah?

there is a permanence to photography, even if it’s not always a tangible permanence. they are timestamps, living commitments; i refuse to accept the idea that photography is somehow a ‘stand in’ to ‘true human connection’, rather than a critical facet of it. ex. i know that my best friend is real even if i didn’t have a photo of him sitting beside me on a wayward bus, but it’s still important that i inscribed that memory distinctly into the fabric of my life by taking a moment to chronicle it.

Phil Lester uses photography as a way to immortalize a thousand different fragments of his forever with Dan. there’s a distinct thought process, right, to see someone you love and decide— i never want to lose this moment. that decision, in of itself, is enough of a love confession, but there’s another layer when you decide, on top of all of it, i want the entire world to see this. when Dan described his love for Phil as "more than just romantic", he opened up a piece of himself to show the world, this is how i love this person. this is how i see him. when Dan calls Phil bubby, or dear, this is him cracking a hard exterior to say this is how i see you.

the two of them, upon first meeting, took a selfie together at the Apple store— Phil was the one to press the button. when they sat at the top of the sky-bar, Phil was the one to take a photo of Dan amidst the golden hour light. maybe he didn’t know that Dan loved him back, yet, but he had a certainty in his own adoration of Dan— that regardless of whether Dan wanted him back, Phil wanted him. the image feels timid but assured, like swallowing down anxiety to look yourself in the mirror; you can feel that through the pixels of it, so transparently. Phil’s love of Dan was not conditioned on anything: it was a terrifying but beautiful thing, and he wanted to preserve it, so even if it all went wrong he could say this is how i loved you. this is how you are loved, to me. you don’t have to want me back, but know that you were wanted, here, crawling into your own head sitting across from me in a city i’d like to call home with you, someday. so let me. and when you look at this photo of heart eyes Howell, cradling a bear, it’s louder than a blood rush: i love you.

[ID: Dan Howell sitting in the sunlight, looking outside the window while holding his phone. end ID.]

[ID: Dan Howell in a fuzzy hat, holding a stuffed bear against his face and looking at the camera with a small smile. end ID]

(sorry. it was necessary to include).

every year, Phil spills this oath into his camera roll. when Dan’s birthday arrives, Phil has a thousand candids to show for it, a thousand of silly and unflattering photos— a “loving” selection (7:41). exposing my heart a little here, but when you are someone who struggles with insecurity at some level, photos of you that are unflattering circling around feels horrifying. you want to be composed, and pretty, and loved— but then, maybe, it settles in that you are loved someplace beyond conditions. Phil chronicles these casual, vulnerable moments with Dan, and he shares them, because he loves Dan to a level past the flat logic of if he is composed, if he is pretty, then he is loved. Dan may be unattractive at points, but he is never unloved. never again.

these photos also demonstrate how much Phil romanticizes the little moments with Dan. watching him play Skyrim in VR; sitting beside him while he plays Elden Ring (3:40); admiring an oddly-shaped tear in his pants (missing citation); taken aback by a large poodle jumping into his lap. there are hundreds of photos of Dan taken by Phil which have escaped. imagine how many more linger. if we can go off of this (admittedly horrifying) tweet, we can envision a camera roll overflowing with him.

when they go on vacation, Phil takes soft photographs of Dan. here’s this love in a new city, just like we did fifteen years ago in Manchester, before i knew the right way to hold your hand, the right way to counter your cynicism, the right way to systemically reject every pet name because saying your name like a promise is enough— i’m putting this love into the world because i no longer live in a world where i go a second without it. Phil saves photos of Dan looking at him like he hung the stars, and he saves photos of Dan walking in front of him— he would never save them, as an Orpheus, but thankfully he doesn’t have to anymore, not after 2019— and he saves photos of Dan happy, because he wants to save that, too. Phil will save photos from every era of Dan’s life, but he wants those photos the most.

Phil has seen Dan perform in front of thousands. he has seen Dan pass out from standing up too quickly in their living room. he has seen Dan stumble home from a unexpected solo walk, he has seen Dan try to hide his fear-to-death in Phil’s childhood bedroom, he has seen Dan try to use a laundry machine, he has seen Dan in every way a person could: i love you.

Dan knows all of this. Dan sends Phil photos of himself when he’s solo traveling for his tour; the two of them almost never call, not unless Dan’s in a cab, but they regularly facetime. Dan winces at old photos of himself, but Phil coos at them.

Phil Lester is a romantic. he likes to hold his love to his chest— sharing photographs, but careful not to share too much. i think we under-estimate the shift Phil had to make, sometimes, in 2019: coming out was a major deal to him, too, even if he had already been out to some. more than that, coming out while Dan was also out is a very different experience. still, he likes to stay private, which is why we’ve not seen what i imagine to be hundreds of photos of Dan in Phil’s arms, or Dan kissing him on the cheek, or Dan asleep beside him in his bed (because we know how often he takes photos of Dan asleep, but i can't even begin to get into that right now).

even still, from what we can see, God, it’s everything, isn’t it? i can’t imagine what it felt like, for Dan, first trying to reconcile all of this. when you go so long without experiencing a safe kind of love, your reality fundamentally shifts. everything is brittle: you have to be hard enough to survive it, but not too hard to break the little you have entirely. half of you is a secret, the other half of you feels like it should be— who you are shifts, when you are loved, so in the reverse: when you go so long without it you feel displaced internally. when you find that love, you throw yourself entirely into it, expecting nothing but wanting everything. you punch a wall only to feel the plaster cradle your touch; you tell yourself you’d never turn back and you hate that need to; you expect to hit the sea but the wax never seems to melt. impossibly, you are okay. maybe i showed too much of my own heart there, but when i look at 2009 Dan, i see all of that. eighteen years old, and for the first time since he was a tiny child, he actually felt safe.

because Phil says Dan like it’s the sweetest word in the world. because Phil has a hunger for everything Dan creates. because Phil held Dan when he dropped out of university, picked up his first radio job with him, moved in with him, and never left. because Phil never treated Dan like an experience to hide away. Phil loved parts of Dan back into life.

because Phil takes photographs of Dan, everywhere in his life, to say: this is my world, now. you can’t take a photo in the daylight without capturing the sun. you can’t take a photo in the nighttime without capturing the absence of it. Phil says Dan’s name in every video, and he takes another hundred photos, because he’s so fucking sure about this love. there’s not even a question to be asked.

this is only a fraction of what there is to say about it, some messily constructed analysis, but it's hard to capture. i'd call Dan a lucky bastard, but it's hardly luck, is it? Phil makes the decision to love Dan every single day, and it might look quiet, but it's so unfathomably loud.

[izuke-the-zombie]

This is a little head cannon/What if Macaque had more original powers, a little more Starry Night dreamlike powers leaning into the more nurturing kind, you know, the moon and sun kind of powers? 🌙☀️

 

Maybe in the past, he was like a therapy friend to Wukong, someone he could really be himself with, vent, and tell his secrets without being judged in the safety of his own dreams. Someone he can truly trust, and that was Macaque.

Skip to Redemption Ark for Mac

Now he's a therapy friend to the whole MK team! (Against his will) They cuddle, pet, and vent to him with their problems. He's like one of Sandy's therapy cats, just bigger and grumpier.😾💕✨ he just has this way with people I guess

Okay, this is how it starts: Macaque and Wukong's first encounter was in a dream.

Wukong would not shut up about the pretty demon in his crazy dreams, often to his sworn brothers; he talked about all the fun and crazy adventures he'd have, the long meaningful conversations and jokes, and the occasionally moving pictures of otherworldly strong magical humans with sparkly eyes and spiky hair who wield giant weapons that shoots Fire called anime, and that this had been going on for a few months now.

This annoyed and concerned them; they think it's a demon trying to take over the Monkey King's mind or trying to brainwash him somehow, so Azure Lion and the Sworn Brothers all brainstormed together to devise a plan to somehow confront this tricky dream demon. Wukong doesn't want the fun dreams to end or scare off this other celestial monkey, so he decides to talk to his friend in his dreams. Wukong casually brings up the idea that the macaque should visit Flower Fruit and meet his sworn brothers! Macaque of course hesitates, not sure of the idea of traveling to an unknown island and meeting The Monkey King's questionable choice of sworn brothers, but of course, Wukong, sad and a bit offended, but he doesn't give up.

He decides to bring upon the Ultimate Weapon, begging and whining until Macaque crumbles and gives in, which eventually does. Mac reluctantly agrees to travel over to FFM in disguise, just to be safe he tells Wukong he'll be there. Within a month, Wukong couldn't be more excited; he was like a little kid waiting for Christmas day!

So this is what kinds of powers I think he should have.

😴 the first pic is crossing over to other people's dreams and making their experience life-like he has illusion magic so this makes sense to me. Wukong and macaque would prank the Brotherhood or play tags and hide and seek in their brother's dreams. 🌸The second pic is the soothing ability to calm one's nerves if they pet or cuddle him like a therapy cat,🐈 Wukong would groom him for hours to calm his nerves. now come copes with food🍑🍔🍭

🌸🎶I saved the best one for last the cute/sad little head Cannon I have

At the end of every dream Mac visits they would end it by dancing to music Mac would bring from the future laughing and stumbling while wukong slowly wakes up, wukong has always gone to bed early But now he goes even earlier to bed. Wukong always thought he was the luckiest monkey in the world he gets to have two Adventure and one of them is with his prettiest best friend Macaque 😚✨the monkey of his dreams.

🌸 Wukong couldn't truly dream of a world without his bestest friend🥰✨

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday Thursday 🧠 🪱

thank you for tagging me @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @stevesbipanic and of course anyone else that would like to ♡

thinking about Steve and Eddie who, after going through rounds of physical therapy after everything, continue to work out together because Steve obviously loves it and loves having a friend to work out with. and Eddie notices the difference in his stamina when he gets back to performing on stage. (and if Eddie likes to watch Steve work out a little bit, and likes Steve coming over to help his form more than a little bit, well that’s his business.) but Steve takes a dance class and shakes up his usual warmup, leaving Eddie with some… thoughts.

***

“Okay, Munson,” Steve says, pulling his arm across his body for a shoulder stretch. “You ready?”

“Ready to be tortured? Always,” Eddie jokes. It was their thing. Eddie acts like he hates being there, but he still shows up every other day to their local gym in Indianapolis. And he won’t ever deny the benefits he’s noticed since starting their exercise regime. He's faster on stage, doesn't get winded near as easily, holding those screaming notes without feeling like his lungs will explode. Little did he know that today his joke would come to be true.

Steve liked most kinds of exercise. He was a sporty guy. He liked the pull and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a new goal, that delicious soreness the day after a really good workout. But mostly he loved trying new things. He’d give anything half a chance if he thought it might be fun. Which is how he ended up at a dance-aerobics class the week prior, finding himself having a lot of fun, blushing furiously when the women in the class complimented how quickly he picks up the steps.

He went back three more times that week. Part of his enjoyment came from the new warmup he was taught in the class. Steve’s usual warmup consisted of basic stretches and a light jog, covering all bases to ensure he didn’t get injured, but not very exciting.

This, however, was far more enjoyable. Steve found himself sinking deep into stretches he didn't know he had flexibility for, and moving his hips to a beat, ultimately just having way more fun with the warmup. And it was about to become a huge problem for Eddie.

Steve pops his headphones over his ears, the tape deck tucked securely in his shorts pocket. He bends over, inhaling deeply as the song starts, rising up with his hands overhead, exhaling as he rolls his wrists, hips moving side to side with the beat. His already short cropped t-shirt rises, showing off a good amount of his chest. He lets his arms come down, bending over again, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. Gripping his elbows, he lets the top half of his body hang, swinging from side to side, his hamstrings fully stretched out.

Eddie looks up from his own basic stretching, shocked to see Steve fully bent over, because hey, since when was he so flexible? With Metallica blaring through his own headphones, Eddie just stares, completely forgetting where he was at in his warmup.

Steve lets his hands drop, moving to one foot, back to the centre, then the other foot. Ass just up in the air, his shorts way too tight. Eddie swallows. He’d been denying his crush for months at this point, and good god this was not helping.

Rolling his shoulders as he stands up, Steve lets his hands travel down his bare thighs, sinking into a squat with his back arched and head tilted back. Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches those tight little shorts with the little cut-ins on the sides ride up, showing far more of Steve's glorious hairy thighs than Eddie can handle. Steve drops his head forward, hunching his shoulders as he moves back to standing. He repeats the motions, and Eddie wishes he had the strength to pull his stare away from Steve's ass.

Seeing Steve's head tilted back and his back arched is sending Eddie insane. Like, he geninely thinks he might evaporate on the spot if he keeps watching. But he just can't look away.

Turning himself sideways, Steve has one foot stepped out in front of the other, legs perfectly straightened into a triangle shape, bent over his front leg. Just when Eddie thinks he’s about to get up and end his suffering, Steve lowers himself down into a lunge. His little shorts definitely way too small and tight for the movement, Steve lunges back and forth, fingertips resting on the ground on either side of his front foot. Eddie watches as the t-shirt rides up with each lunge, the desire to get his lips and tongue all over Steve's chest overwhelming him.

Shaking himself, Eddie tries to remember which shoulder stretch he was up to. He attempts something close to a stretch, but he can’t be sure he's doing it right, because Steve has lowered himself to the ground, front leg bent and back leg perfectly straight, and is fucking thrusting into the ground. If he were to ask Steve, he’d find out this was a hip flexor stretch. But Eddie’s forgotten how to form words entirely, suddenly imagining nineteen different ways he wants to get dicked down by the man before him.

Eddie suffers in silence, heart racing in his chest, watching as Steve repeats the movements on his other side. He prays that the torture ends soon, that they can just get to the workout, and Eddie can go back to pretending he doesn't want to ride Steve until his thighs give out. But Eddie gets no such luck.

Steve has moved into some kind of triangle position, hands on the ground, legs straight, and of fucking course, his ass in the air. Eddie marvels at how straight the shape is, only for a moment, because then Steve is lifting his heels up and down in turn, and jesus christ those tiny little shorts are just riding up, and Eddie can see a hint of Steve's ass peeking out. His jaw drops. He may actually explode.

Just when Eddie's thinking he can't take much more of this, Steve lowers himself down, knees spread wide, arms stretched out in front of him and head tucked down. A wild and rushed series of thoughts fly across Eddie's mind, all centred around Steve kneeling down in front of him. Eddie needs to get it together quickly.

As Steve brings himself back up to the triangle position, walking his feet to meet his hands and rolling his spine up, shoulders and head rolling back last, he sees Eddie taking off for his warmup jog. Assuming that he probably just took too long with his new warmup, Steve shrugs it off and starts his jog shortly after.

Eddie hits his personal best in several weights that day, desperately trying to expend his excess energy in some way. He barely registers the wins, mind still stuck on Steve and his perfect ass in all those new positions. He almost dissolves on the spot when Steve claps him on the shoulder in congratuations.

At the end of their session, Eddie takes a freezing cold shower and prays for the sweet release of death.

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[cavesalamander]

Scum Villain fic where Shen Yuan wakes up out of a coma and realizes that he just had a very, very vibrant dream about his boy and that web novel he hatereads.

When he gets back home after observation it's so... surreal. He feels so much older now. He's practically lived a lifetime in that dream, even if only a few months have passed.

His room is so... cringe is the word he wants to use, but he can't help but find his past self endearing about it all. Except that line of thought makes... no sense at all. His past self is just him from a couple months ago.

He decides to check up on the story he'd been dreaming about and finds out that, though there were a dozen more chapters, they had stopped updating completely without warning just a few weeks after his own coma.

(The comments after his coma, a few mention him, calling him out or cheering for him finally giving up on the story. Some people even speculate he might have died.)

His old comments were so embarrassing to read, but there's a part of him that... sees his love for Luo Binghe even in these.

Wait, why is he suddenly okay being gay for this protag??

He thinks he probably shouldn't be quite so chill about it.

He wonders what happened to Airplane. He stops himself from thinking too hard on the possibility it could all have been real. That was ridiculous!!

Meanwhile in the world of the system....

Luo Binghe is flipping OUT. His husband his shizun his beloved just up and went POOF. No trace of him, no clue left behind.

(Or is it worse if he dies? The original goods died that night he qi deviated and was replaced by Shen Yuan, so there's no soul there to replace him. Luo Binghe has had to deal with dead Shizun before but this time it's... different.)

Either way, after a whole lot of everyone flipping out, Shang Qinghua seems to know a little too much about... something.

The truth comes out. Luo Binghe admits he's suspected something like that for a while now, but thats not important. He needs his shizun back, so how..?

Cue dimension hopping shenanigans.

[silusvesuius]

steer clear of ....the illigitimate child of... nvm

[mionkings]

Vlad did not expect this shit at all what the fuck???

You know those twin/sibling aus with Danny and Damian? That but in Vlad's POV

CMON I feel like it's underutilized, given how Vlad has an obsession with wanting Danny to be his son when he ISNT greedy for power and control.

Like Vlad Masters takes pride in thinking that he knows everything about Danny like the creepy bastard he is.

So imagine when shit hits the fan as always with these AUs; Vlad expects Danny to come crawling to him or at least last a few days until he gives up and finally goes to Vlad for help.

But then Danny disappears, and Vlad doesn't know where the brat is. Time passes by, and no matter what, Daniel hasn't come out of whatever hidey hole he is. That is until PLOT HAPPENS AGAIN- Vlad gets a hint that Daniel is in GOTHAM of all places- so he goes!

And most of the time when Vlad finally shows up in these aus, it's of course at the Gotham Gala–time to start shit up!

There he finds Daniel with Bruce Wayne of all people, hanging out with that Wayne's youngest child. Where Vlad sees the eerie similarities with Daniel and the Wayne Boy, minus the eyes and what-not. He sees Daniel staying close to Brucie and his son, that will not do.

This would give Vlad the opportunity to finally mold the brat into his perfect son, and even get Maddie in the process!

But of course, with these aus, Vlad doesn't get Daniel, so Vlad is pissed because how dare the brat choose Wayne over Vlad Masters???

Why would the boy choose Brucie Wayne over coming with Vlad?! Over coming home?! Over his parents?! Vlad would understand, even be elated since usually in these types of aus, Danny has a falling out with the Fentons or it just isn't safe at home anymore.

But after all, this is Vlad's POV: he'd be pissed and confused on WHY Daniel would dare choose Wayne over him, he could support Daniel just fine, he knows what the boy needs.

But the way that angry brat glared murderously at Vlad; and Daniel doesn't do anything to get the Wayne boy to stop, in fact he seems concerned for the other boy who's glare would kill. Bruce Wayne even seemed smart enough to get Daniel and his son away with a smile, and Daniel is letting them.

These people shouldn't be this protective of the boy, given that somehow Daniel ended up in their care. But the way, Danny Fenton seems to trust them enough to know that he could travel with them willingly...

But WHY would he???

[bonefall]

Does leopard still have 3 lives in her final battle? Or was that changed?

Yep. I think she drowned her once, then Leopardstar lunges up refreshed, and she gets the upper paw on Mistyfoot with 2 lives to go.

(MAYBE tw gore, but I really did try to be tasteful about a head being smashed on a rock.)

On her back, splashing and thrashing furiously against Leopardstar's claws dunking her head under, Mistyfoot glimpses a wave breaking just over the tip of a stone-blue rock. Her only chance.

With a surge of power, her claws sink into her leader's golden shoulder and they tumble and roll to the right. Before the tyrant even realizes what's happening, she's yanked up, and then whipped backwards with a wet CRUNCH

And then again

And again

And again, until Mistyfoot can't even make out what's left of her leader anymore. All she can see is that it's a red, brown, and yellow blur, because her eyes burning with salty tears and her whole body is trembling.

She drops the corpse onto the stone and it slides into the water, lifelessly. After a moment it spasms aimlessly one last time, like an insect does after its head is bitten off, unlike the deliberate, agonized throes of Tigerstar suffering through his doomed lives. And then it's still.

There's only the tranquil sound of bubbling water, and Mistyfoot's frenzied panting. Her pounding heart makes it hard to hear either.

The blood is carried off by the shallow water in scarlet swirls, but the lake runs pale red as if it's washing it away. Some were aware of this prophecy, but Mistyfoot was not.

It isn't closure to her, or a fulfillment of divine decree. It's just blood that should be on her paws, slicked away by the complicit river. She wished it could feel like it's over, but she's smart enough to know the truth. Has been through enough terrible events like this to understand what comes next.

Her body will move foward. Her mind will need to consider her deputy. Her paw will come down on code-defying cats like Blackclaw and Greenflower. But her heart will stay here, next to the remains of Leopardstar, the same way another piece of it remains at Stonefur's side across space and time.

[wolvertooth]

au/fix where the sabretooth that gets sent down to the pit and does the sabretooth war stuff is uhmmm just a clone. its the clone plot again. for the 3rd time.

i mean im kinda torn on this since sabretooth 2022 + sabretooth and the exiles did have some good moments. its just the ending and everything that happened after that was. weird. and off.

so maybe before the pit, the clone was doing some Evil clone stuff, but being in the pit triggered some genuine memories for the clone, allowing for it to have a brief period of victors actual self. then, by the end of sabretooth and the exiles, that wore off, and he reverted back to normal Evil clone. that would also give a good reason for the brief moments in sabretooth war that felt ‘real’ being at the same time he was remembering things, his actual self slipping through again. fuck now im feeling kinda bad for this hypothetical sabretooth clone…..

meanwhile, the real sabretooth(inverted) is chilling at home, watching this go down from the outside. cuz like, lets be real, his friends wouldnt just leave him in that reverted state at the end of weapon x 2017. they would absolutely kick some ass in order to get him back to normal. and i bet it was weird for him to hear about the graydon thing too, seeing as hes now got a solid relationship with his own graydon.

oh. and ben percys wolverine is totally a clone too. cuz he just seems so different from the wolverine in infinity watch.

and the real ones are definitely living together.

anyway, extra -> tbh the whole percy run feels like an au to me. mostly due to the way both of their memories are handled, wolverines especially, as shown in x lives / x deaths. its a mashup of a bunch of different wolverine runs, but with the authors own spin on them.

its kinda representative how every new wolverine run is like their own au, each author taking bits and pieces of canon as needed, but also slightly rewriting them to fit their personal take. bit like a game of telephone, plot points getting forgotten over time as new authors dont bring them along, and other authors ideas getting remixed. especially in the earlier days, when runs were way longer, plot points getting abandoned in their own run.

a good example of this comes from return of wolverine and infinity watch, which are both considered ‘canon’, but due to their length are never referenced again. and even though infinity watch is an immediate sequel to return of wolverine, the concept introduced in that run where wolverine has all the different versions and variants of wolverine in his head wasnt ever mentioned.

its like the previous stories set up new plots only for the future ones to drop them. like how weapon x 2017s ending of sabretooth being reverted back to a ‘feral’ state never gets elaborated on later, despite seeming like something that would lead into a new arc.

all different stories, all somehow labeled as canon.

[nikoisme]

Going absolutely insane over the concept of name and identity in The Odyssey. The concept of recognition. Like, the reveal of one's identity is present in both The Iliad and The Odyssey, but specifically The Odyssey drives me into despair.

The Phaeacians don't recognize Odysseus. His family doesn't recognize Odysseus (except his dog!! all praise Argos). Odysseus doesn't recognize Ithaca. There's barely any recognition without revealing, and Odysseus takes a while to reveal himself. Chronologically speaking, his first disguise in The Odyssey is Nobody. And when he does reveal his true identity, it causes him and his crew pain and suffering. Maybe that instilled a fear of revealing his true identity. His name invoked the death of his men. And all his other identities (too tired to remember/look for all the names he's gone under), while realistic and authentic sounding, are non-existent. All those people he claimed he was are not real. They are nobody. If he is not Odysseus, he is nobody, and if he is not nobody, he is Odysseus. But Odysseus, his fucking name drives me insane. His name means to hate. Since his childhood that hatred was imprinted on him. Do you think it left an lasting impact?? Some sort of "expectation" that he had to meet?? A curse, a constant shadow following him everywhere he goes?? Something he inherited, that is tied to him even if it's not his?? Hate was tied to him directly through his name that his grandfather gave him. In The Iliad, everyone refers to him as "Son of Laertes (which is obviously the way they identified as back then)", "sacker of cities", "long-enduring" etc etc. But Odysseus refers to himself as "Father of Telemachus". Also this:

He swears by his son's name, by the name of someone, something that is his. Something that is not inherited, that isn't placed upon him. Something that he earned himself. Something that he loves, the opposite of the hate that is his name. It's a part of him, part of his identity. And if he is not the son of Telemachus, then he isn't Odysseus. He is nobody.

But in The Odyssey, he refers to himself as the sacker of cities. When he introduces himself to the Phaeacians, he says that he is the sacker of cities. His invention of the Trojan horse was the bane of Troy. And that trick is a part of him, his cunning and trickery. He destroyed the home of hundreds, thousands of people. And do you think, that after every hardship he faced on his journey back home, he lost his sense of self?? In the war, he had the hope of going back home. He had the hope that he would see his wife and son again. As long as the other kings and soldiers are there, also longing to go back home, then his hope is real. He is real. But after all of his men died, he was alone. No one to share his longing, to share his hope. No one is there to remind him that he is real. So he only has his newer memories, new things that are tied to him. Sacker of cities. Long enduring. Doesn't sound all that happy. It almost sounds like hate. Without the hope of seeing everything that is his because he earned/worked for it himself, he goes back to his name. It might be the only thing grounding him, reminding him that he is real. And when he hears the bard sing of the fall of Troy, the man absolutely weeps. Because he sings about him. He sings about the fall of Troy, and it fell because of him. It fell because he is the sacker of cities. He is the sacker of cities because he is Odysseus. Because he doesn't know who he is. And even Penelope when she listens to the bard wants him to sing about something else. Someone else. Because that is not her Odysseus, her husband, her son's father. It hurts her to think that even though he might be alive, her Odysseus is gone. He is dead either way. And even his son when he sees him first thinks he is a god. That he is not human, that he is not a man. Because gods are immortal, ever lasting. And mortals have only a lifetime to make it worth it, to attach something to themselves and their names. And Telemachus thinks that his father is a god, that his father has no name and no identity of his own.

And when his loved ones recognize him, it's by the things he attached himself to during the war. The things that are a part of his real identity, of his identity. Odysseus tells his son that he is his father. Argos recognizes him as his master. Eurycleia recognizes his scar that he earned when he went hunting. He tells his father about the trees in the orchard. And Penelope finally believes it's him because of the olive tree bed story. The bed that he built himself. That he built his home around. And Penelope doesn't believe it's truly Odysseus, because he is not the man that left Ithaca twenty years ago. But when Odysseus is able to tell her about the bed, she can believe it's Odysseus. Or atleast a part of him is there. It's Odysseus Odysseus, the name and identity that he built. And not Odysseus, the name that simply means hate.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: yandere reader, implied stalking, implied drugging, dubcon

hello………have u ever considered being yandere and convincing yourself that you and Deku are actual soulmates, and he just doesn’t know it yet. you try to get his attention for so long, through so many different ways (you try to become a hero, and then a villain, and then a helpless civilian and then—) and he just. never really notices you.

so you take matters into your own hands. you get him down somehow, when it’s late and not enough important people catch onto it until you’ve already gotten him. trapped him somewhere far that’s hard for most to find, tied up and at your mercy.

he’s so cute when he wakes up confused and groggy, asking, what’s going on, who are you, what is he doing here? but you can’t let him know your plans too early on, so you only sit on the bed beside him, smiling, running a hand up his naked stomach (when did you undress him?).

all hell breaks loose when he tells you that he doesn’t remember you, that you need to let him go, he doesn’t know you, you won’t get into much trouble for doing this. and that—and that’s heart wrenching? earth shattering?

how does your soulmate just not remember you, know you, love you as much as you love him? it stings more than cold metal slicing your flesh, and you cry. you cry so fucking hard into your hands at the rejection, defeated sobs wracking your body as he valiantly tries to calm you down.

so Deku, ever the kind and gracious hero that he is, comforts you. he coos to you, negates all your whining about how you must be too ugly for him, how you’re not good enough for him. he doesn’t realize the monster he’s enabling with his words until it’s too late.

he thinks he may be too kind for his own good, because in only a few moments, your tears have dried up and you’re perched on top of his chest. you look down at him with big, glassy eyes, head tilted as you cup his freckled and warm cheeks in your hands.

“You think I’m pretty?” you ask quietly, and he knows, he knows he shouldn’t cater to you. but Deku’s not a liar despite the circumstances he’s put in, and he’s sure if you would’ve approached him normally, he would’ve been interested in you.

“So pretty.” He whispers out in a rushed breath. the rest of his words get lost in his throat, his plea to be released, because you’re climbing over him. you only wear his shirt (when did you break into his apartment? how didn’t he notice? he just wore that shirt last night?) and a pair of underwear that you’re sliding to the side. you look at him with starry eyes that hold more adoration than he’s comfortable to look back at.

“Is…she pretty, too?” you ask, your voice low as if you’re scared of anyone else hearing you. Deku tries to look away, but you don’t let him, gathering the crown of his hair to force him to look at you between your legs, your other wrist holding your underwear away, fingers stretching your lips until your hole is exposed.

“Answer me.” you try to snap but your voice is so wobbly, so unconvincing for a stronger man. Deku doesn’t think he’s all that strong in the moment.

“Prettiest one I’ve ever seen.” He tries to convince himself he’s lying just to appease you, but the twitch of his cock tells him otherwise. you let out a breath of laughter, a grin so wide on your face it unnerves him and also makes him a little harder.

“Kiss her then, if it’s so pretty.” You tell him with a jut of your chin, scooting up until you hover directly over his mouth. Deku splutters, hesitates, tries to close his eyes. but he finds himself kissing back when you sit on his face, and he thinks—he thinks he might be a sicko for how there isn’t much coercion to devour you after that.

[august-writing]

"Not I," I said, "I love you."

Yet when blood was on your face I knew you not.

"Would you follow me, my child? Even in the dark?"

But when the light blew dim I fled.

You told me of the future, and of a joy to come 

You loved me and you taught me

"I know your heart, my child."

When you were weak and weary where was I to comfort?

When you cried out for the Father I hid my face.

I saw you. I saw your eyes and anguish.

O how it pierced me. How could I abandon you?

"Not I," I said, "I love you." But how could it be true?

I turned and left my lover.

Weak and twisted is the heart that claimed to live for you

How can it be, how can I live? I wish to love you.

Yet it is a dead heart that saw your face among the crowd.

A light flew across the distance. On the wings of your suffering.

O how it pierced me. My eyes have opened.

I don't deserve to be here, to sing and see the dawn

Lord let me live and love you

How I was meant to all along

[turning-monday-blue]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[possibly-drunk-on-fanfiction]

What in the Tomarrymort is this title?????