#my brain has concluded that I Must Know

[tea-with-eleni]

Volenta Popofsky died about three centuries ago.

The lord of the land was more intimidating in the dark. He wasn’t the jovial host, tonight. He was more like a storm. Unreadable. Unknowable. He looked down at me. The candlelight caught in the ruby in the collar of his vest. It looked like a burning ember. 

“I did not expect you this evening, Miss Volenta,” he said, after a while. “But it seems that you have again managed to charm my wife.” Ludmilla, behind him, said, “She wanted me to kill her, milord. That seems a waste.” Strahd tilted his head. “You wish to keep her as… a pet?” 

“The thing in the mountain temple wants to make me into a monster,” I said. I wouldn’t cry in front of his lordship. “It wants me to betray the people I love. I would rather die.” 

“You came here to throw yourself to the vampyr, then?” Strahd asked. He sounded almost amused. “Would you rather I make you into my monster instead? Is that your choice?” Ludmilla stepped forward to take his arm. “Milord, I will point out that we have not confirmed what freed me. I propose a variation on your idea. The thing in the temple wanted to make her a vampire, most likely… a vampire not beholden to any other. It can hardly do so if we do it first.” 

“Your theory may not be correct. She could die.”

“She requested that first.” 

“Why are you so interested in this now? Why do you need this knowledge tonight?”

Ludmilla curtseyed to her husband. “Milord. Be sensible. This is a rare opportunity. Surely you would rather find out the way of things now, with someone willing, rather than… perhaps… as a woman you love dies of a disease you cannot cure.” 

This didn’t mean anything to me, but it made Strahd flinch. Ludmilla nodded with a faint smile. “I thought as much, milord. Let me keep this one.” 

I got the sense that this was a battle over me, for some reason. I also got the sense that Ludmilla had somehow won. I wasn’t sure that I was willing, but I’d ceded control over the situation to Ludmilla without a fight. So, apparently, had Strahd. That sense was heightened when Strahd nodded, then gestured. An unseen force lifted me to my feet. His eyes, just as red as Milla’s, burned with the same intensity as the gem he wore. Whatever happened now, I wasn’t going to walk out of here alive. It would save Nyshka from me, though, so it had to be worth it. 

I couldn’t look at Milla, but I felt her lips against the nearly-healed punctures at my throat. Her fangs stung, but the sensation faded quickly. My fear enhanced the electric rush. It distracted me, and I did not notice at first when Strahd took my wrist. 

His bite was different. It was far more painful; this pain did not fade, it only intensified, from a stabbing spike to an all-consuming agony. I could not move. I could not push him off. I would not have fought Ludmilla. I could not help but fight this. It was pointless. My vision began to gray around the edges. I would not have stayed standing without Strahd’s magic. 

It may have been a mercy that I could not cry out as dizziness swamped me. Eventually, Strahd tilted my head back and dripped something – I could no longer focus well enough to guess what – into my mouth. It burned. I coughed, choked, tried to spit it out. 

“You need to drink, sweetness,” Ludmilla said. “Or you’ll die and rise a slave. Drink.” I wanted to obey, but I couldn’t move. I felt her thumb brush my lips. More of the burning, acrid, terrible liquid dripped into my mouth. “Drink,” she whispered. “Please, sweetness.” 

I tried. I don’t know if I succeeded. A noise I was scarcely aware of hearing seemed to falter. Something on the edge of hearing skipped. Paused. Tried to continue. Silence.

Well. Hopefully, I at least tasted good. 

[doveywovy]

modern au where izuna is in a tragic accident and it puts him in a coma and tobirama is like sweet, a way to practice friendship. because tobirama has absolutely zero friends except his brother, who's been pissed at him for over a year. so- he needs the practice.

so every day he goes in to visit and he changes out the flowers at izunas bedside and fixes the sheets and updates him in what's been happening while he's in the coma. with all the tact he has, which is very little.

tobirama: hello izuna. class went well today. you would've liked the chemistry lesson. your cousin hikaku broke down crying behind the school because he misses you. your other cousin obito called me a slur when he noticed i saw this and then he chased me down and shoved my head into a toilet. the cafeteria was serving cold rice again at lunch. this concludes my report. get well soon.

what tobirama is unaware of is that this is the kind of coma that izuna is actually largely aware of whats happening around him, he just can't respond or move in any way. so he knows about tobiramas daily visits and updates and weird attempts at friendship. (tobirama's consistant reports on class lessons actually means when he wakes up, he doesn't need to do too much to catch up on work.)

so when izuna finally wakes up, he decides to do his own crazy move- to lie that they've always been friends, actually. best friends. joined at the hip practically. tobirama assumes this is some kind of brain damage situation but gleefully takes the opportunity to have a friend. izuna uses the justification of them being lifelong friends to violate a number of boundaries and behave in completely inappropriate ways.

madara also assumes this is some kind of brain damage consequence and considers tobirama an evil blight on his brother's life that must be vanquished. he keeps desperately trying to prove that they didn't get along before izuna's coma, but izuna just keeps making up loopholes and excuses to disprove his evidence.

eventually izuna tearfully confesses that madara is right, there's no physical proof of their lifelong friendship....because he himself destroyed it all! he and tobirama were/are actually boyfriends, see, but he was so worried that his brother would be homophobic about it that he never kept proof of their relationship! his close call with death has made him realize the importance of treasuring the time he has with tobirama, even if.... (loud sob) even if madara is being even MORE homophobic about this than he had once feared.....(Sob)

madara: oh. uh. i. uh

hashirama: madara.....how could you.....

[occamstfs]

Green Eyes of Envy

Adam finds a necklace that promises anything his heart desires and nothing does he desire more than a body no one could deny.

Vaguely Halloweeny possession story based on a well-trodden trigger! Twink -> Jock -> Bear(ish?) IQ drain/corruption. Don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation Story poll, only one day left! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

As soon as he sees the necklace lying on the ground Adam throws it on. So far it’s another subpar night spent going home alone from the bar, at least if he nabs a cute accessory there’ll be something gained. After throwing it on, when there’s a sudden buzzing in the back of his head that’s increasingly approximating a voice Adam chalks it up to his conscience trying to speak up about his and promptly ignores it.

Once he arrives home and takes time to stare at the medallion dangling on his thin chest however, he finds the voice may well have been something external, something supernatural. As a voice resounds in his head that is clearly not his own, “Adam is it?” Concluding he’s already fallen unconscious, hopefully indeed in his home, or that he’s had far too much to drink tonight for him to remember whatever he’s about to get into he plays along. “Whazzit to ya-” Realizing just what a goldmine position it has found itself in, the presence within the necklace prepares to strike.

From the drunken grumblings made by the young man in their short time together there is clearly insecurity to pray upon, and his new owner seems adverse to caution. The being within the necklace feels close enough to gaining a physical form, a body, it can almost taste it. It cannot slip up this close to the finish line and must act swiftly and with care, “So Adam, I take it you did not fare too well in your night on the town?” 

The drunken Adam’s small hands suddenly grasp the chain and pull slightly, moaning incoherently all the while. Feeling the tug the necklace quickly speaks up once more, “Woah woah woah my dear, do be careful! If you allow me, I can help you achieve your wildest dreams!” Eyes suddenly grow deathly serious as he hears the metallic voice speak in his head, “you cuh- anythin-?” 

Calculating faster than a human mind can, the voice seizes on the curiosity, banking that whatever the drunk asks will indeed be in his purview, “Anything.” The hitherto thoughtlessly lolling mouth curls into a smirk and his mind dances with the possibilities, “Uhhhh, genie ruleshh, ish it?” 

The medallion somehow sighs not wanting to highlight the potential, or fact rather, that it’s going to twist the man’s wish to his own end but sensing its holder’s brain seems the type to rarely make a connection deeper than surface level it concludes it should be fine. “Sure, something like that.” The chain jostles on Adam’s thin shoulders as he shrugs, “whateva- can you jussht give me the body of a fuckin’ stud?” Perfect. Mission accomplished.

Adam’s eyes flash green as the medallion does similarly, connecting them and giving whatever surely sinister being lies within the small coin carte blanche. Speaking from a deeper foothold in Adam’s mind the voice gives the perfunctory warning that any act of magic requires, “Do be wary of course, the inner bits of yourself have a nasty habit of matching the outer changes.” Though knowing that it’s now only a matter of time before it’s in control it begins to reveal it’s less than amicable side, “though given how fast you let me in it seems your deep inner tapestry hasn’t all too much to lose.”

Treating the slight as if it were the annoying buzz of an insect flying around his head, Adam quickly ignores the voice altogether and pulls out his phone to hunt for the perfect body. Lucky for the spirit Adam was already beyond horny before the necklace even graced his neck, so it is not long before his envious eyes find a man enthralling. In no time at all Adam is halfway drooling as he stares at some influencer’s massive pecs. He’s doing some skit but Adam doesn’t hear a word he says, as he stares his desire proves enough tinder for the spirit’s work to begin on his body.

Adam’s eyes simply flash green and laughter fills his mind, just as muscle begins to fill out his chest. Having always made excuses to shy away from the gym for one reason or another Adam smirks as he gropes his growing pecs. Suddenly bursting from non-existence into the by far largest muscles on his body, eclipsing his ass and thighs in a manner that should not be possible. Nipples surge larger as a few thick curls begin to smatter themselves across the burgeoning pecs. Nails scratching into the soft muscle Adam smirks as he imagines that no matter how hard he tries from here on out he could never hide these powerful pecs.

Emerald shade clearing from his eyes the aftereffects of his proud new chest are less than apparent. Rather than any grand changes to the horny drunk’s personality, the spirit simply allows the current drunken recklessness to seep in deeper. Suddenly the type to never back away from challenges even in a sober state, Adam smirks as he imagines all the heads that will turn when he gets a chance to show off his bulky new pecs. Though despite how impressive they are, they can’t be the only brawn on his body hm? Before the spirit even has a chance to seed the desire for more changes, Adam himself hungrily returns to the hunt for his own aggrandization.

Only having just faded back to his natural eye color his eyes quickly shade a darker green than even that of the medallion as Adam stares at the arms of a gymnast that pops into his feed. He clenches his jaw and reflexively flexes his arms as his weak biceps suddenly surge with the strength of someone who has spent a lifetime working towards his own betterment. He smirks as veins bulge down his biceps as his own laughter resounds even louder than that of the spirit in his own head. Forearms and triceps suddenly hold strength that hasn’t a hope to reasonably wield. 

Adam’s eyes then trail from the impressive arms towards what he always paid more attention to when the gymnast was trending, the man’s thick pits. Instantly does intense itching begin in Adam’s armpits. They burn with pleasure as a forest begins to surge outwards, growing thicker as he desires to be more than any man that pops onto his screen. The few hairs painting his chest rapidly expand in kind to compete with the dank jungles that now thrive and drip with sweat under his arms. Sitting there smirking as he tears his eyes away from his phone to delight in his new beyond hairy pits as rivers of musky sweat begin trickling down his bulging pecs and thick biceps.

Suddenly having the upper body of an Olympian, Adam’s mind grows foggy with a pride even greater than the sum of his impressive parts. Bouncing his pecs for the first time while doing a double bicep flex, Adam is filled with lust for his own form and a growing confidence that already no man could ever possibly resist him. He grunts and notices that his neck has similarly grown thicker, his voice resounding deeper as an adam’s apple bulges onto his previously smooth neck. Moaning as he takes a deep breath and enjoys his new heady musk, he feels his mind start to drift away from the pursuit of perfection and to instead just give in prematurely to hedonism as his larger hands inch towards his crotch. 

Before getting the chance the voice returns and whispers like a snake, “ahh ahh ahh Adam… We are not complete yet.” Looking down at his lower body he shakes off his horny delirium and agrees, rapidly returns to the more than mindless scrolling, thankfully easily able to hold up against the whims of his still average cock. Adam again does not have to search long before his eyes land upon men he longs to be, to have, to be with. His eyes once more glow a searing Emerald, and the medallion scarcely lights up, at the sight of two specimens that alight more jealousy than anything yet.

Memories of his anxieties and self-doubt quickly vacate as confidence imbues every inch of him, staring at the thick thighs and powerful calves of the bodybuilders he feels his power and pride grow to new heights. Immediately sending tears down the ratty old skinny jeans he wore to the bar, thighs that make it immediately clear that their owner could break a watermelon between them surge into existence. Finally regaining their top spot as the largest muscles on the body they grow larger than his pecs before being similarly outmatched by his ass growing firm and flexing larger with each hungry glance at the two men.

Legs cramping outward the spirit within Adam feels his ability to control the man almost come to a head. Adam doesn’t notice as his fingers twitch and flex beyond his control nor does he care as his toes strain in the air as his feet inch larger. Why does it matter that his chest is flexing without being told, it’s hot, Adam surely meant to do that anyway. Looking down and inspecting his new form, concern slides off his mind anyway as he sees hair begin to increase across his chest, rapidly shooting down abs that he didn’t even notice forming. 

He plays with the forest of hair beginning to shadow the whole of his torso as he feels similar stubble being to scratch against his chin. Tilting his head, his foggy mind struggles to wonder how he’s still changing without looking at men like the medallion instructed. Looking at his reflection in the mirror and seeing the impossibly alluring figure he has become however he decides to not care what the stupid thing said anyway. He must have gotten what he needs from it already.

Thoughtlessly he removes the necklace and tosses it away having decided he’s more than enough man. Only then does his bulge begin to grow beyond what he has always known it to be. There’s a sigh of relief and anticipation as he realizes he almost missed a chance to grow his cock with whatever that coin did to him. Face and chest burning red with blush he forces his hand into his crotch and smirks as he feels his thick fingers begin to tangle in his new bush. His free hand still dances across the bounty of chest hair and his new mustache scratches against his shoulder as he bathes in the new musk that resounds from his pits.

Mind clouded from his changes, having far too much to drink, and the cocktail of new hormones issuing forth from balls rapidly filling his briefs, Adam pulls out his larger cock and begins to go to town. Experiencing the new heights of pleasure that his dream body allows Adam loses himself to new ecstasy. His cock stretches to a size that rivals the forearm of a lesser man and his balls race to match the size his impressive body warrants. If it weren’t for his hand slowing down its thrusts it’s likely that Adam would never notice what was to happen to him next.

His face moves in unfamiliar patterns as something besides him stretches it to understand how to control it. Eyes slam shut as far as they can and then reopen, and Adam suddenly realizes that he can no longer move them of his own volition, and yet he still sees. Staring out from eyes seemingly out of his control, Adam feels his mouth smirk without instruction as a voice he has barely gotten the chance to use spills out from his thicker lips, “Well well young Adam. Excellent work thus far, think I’ll take over from here though lad.” 

Adam struggles for dominance as he finds himself but a voice in his own head, watching his new fingers dance at the end of powerful arms he scarcely had time to appreciate. He feels them flex and struggles not to give in to the delight of the power and continue fighting. Feeling himself not totally lost he endeavors a hail mary and focuses all his attention to the one thing that has always been able to override his mind in the past. His balls churn and his cock bounces as even whatever clearly powerful spirit now controlling his form is unable to resist his rising lusts. The need for release that suddenly blares through every sweaty inch of his skin and the being totally not used to self-control or human weakness struggles to not give in.

The spirit grunts as it remembers its tenuous position on reality, through its own suddenly clouded mind it goes into bargaining mode, struggling to stop their body from its uncontrollable thrusting into the air, “Ohh oh fuck okay, another deal. I can’t- We can’t cum yet or grgh- Please not yet!” Adam grinds the well-trodden neural pathways of lust to a halt as he desires to hear the being out. To signal his willingness to play ball, as well as out of the hope Adam should be better at staying his hand from masturbation, it allows Adam full control once more. Adam does begin playing with his cock immediately, moreso from the ever-pressing desire to cum rather than intimidation at expelling the spirit though it works for both. 

The spirit somehow clears his throat within Adam’s head, “To level, I am in here now, for good. But we can work out an arrangement, we can share. You can fuck and frot whatever, but every so often I’ll need a chance at the wheel for my own, uhm ends. Worry not, if anything it’ll only amount to more pleasure for yourself!” Adam cups his larger balls and struggles to understand the implications of this agreement. He hasn’t the capacity to care that his intellect seems to have diminished as his body grew, in fact as clearly duller words spill out of his mouth it only turns him on more, “Uuhhh, so we’ll share my body?”

Somehow rolling eyes he doesn’t have control over, the being realizes this must be a two way street and agrees, “Of course, you just let me do my thing and we’ll get along great.” Adam scratches his beard itching thicker and shrugs, “Sure dude, whatever.” At the lightest sign of agreement the spirit seizes control, too late does he realize his haste has caused him a misstep. Whether its his limited time in the corrupted mind of Adam forcing human err unto the spirit or simply from just how unprepared the spirit is to handle the overwhelming lust in Adam’s mind, rather than sharing control the two become irrevocably one in both body and mind. Whatever sinister priorities the spirit had rapidly shift to match the hedonistic needs of Adam. Rapidly fading into the bestial desire of Adam the spirit turns up its nose as it finds itself wanting to change their now shared form, “If we’re gonna share, uh bro, need a bit more space in here eh?”

With that, Adam’s eyes cross and he struggles to not burp as he feels his powerful form begin to bloat. His beard thickens as both minds become one and mass begins to pile onto his torso as abs grow into a bulky muscle gut underneath his still impressive pecs. Scratching his ass as it too grows a jungle of hair before going back to palm his cock, both minds feel sedated as they smell his thick musk and Adam can scarcely remember any priorities besides the all-important goal of seeking his own pleasure. 

To this end the pair find themselves awash in exploring their-his body, for countless hours of making a mess of his bedroom, living room, and kitchen Adam finally remembers that there is more to the world than his small apartment. There are more holes to explore than the few in himself and far more to see than the steamy videos he can pull up on his phone. Wiping drool off his face and crusted cum off his torso, something at the back of Adam’s mind itches as he feels there was something greater he was supposed to do, something he was supposed to spread or some control he was supposed to enforce. Giving his pits a good sniff he smirks before opining that perhaps there is no greater goal than spreading his own glory far and wide.

Quite the easy enough task as it runs out as whatever the spirit did before fading into but another aspect of Adam’s lusty mind gave him the ability to attract anyone to his cause. Rather than whatever dire cause intended, with the two totally merged the only purpose of his inhumanly alluring self is to spread pleasure. As soon as he steps out of his front door he finds men throwing themselves at him in droves. Jocks, twinks, and bears alike could not possibly resist the titan as he walks down the street, always shadowed by a heavy wave of his aphrodisiac musk.

Adam’s eyes glance across and stare through every man whose hungry eyes cannot look away, whose shoulders fly back in submission, whose noses lead them to trial behind him. While many of them get the chance to enjoy time with the inhumanly alluring man, only a few get to experience the truly rapturous experience of being changed by Adam himself. Only a select few find themselves molded into something greater than that they are when they first submit to Adam’s will. Though even a few is enough to spread and as time goes on the number of musky men wandering around could certainly become a problem. Lucky for the world perhaps, whatever cause the medallion held is long forgotten and the changed men yearn for no higher purpose than pleasure. And with the enhancements gifted by Adam, that is precisely what they find.

[superbat-love]

Dick: Alright, guys! Post-mission inspection. You know the drill.

Groans and grumbles were heard but everyone dutifully lined up in a row.

Jason: Must we do this every night?

Bruce: We wouldn’t have to if you were all honest about your own injuries.

Clark: You’re not exactly the person who should be saying that, Bruce. You do the same thing.

Bruce: Do as I say, not as I do.

Clark flew down in front of them and used his eyes to carefully scan over each and every one of them.

***

Clark: You should get that knife wound on your thigh treated. You can’t hide it from me by standing like that, Damian.

Damian: Tis nothing but a scratch, alien.

***

Tim: My head has been hit tonight but I don’t have any concussion. Someone tried to stab me but his knife merely grazed my arm. Another guy punched my stomach but my armor absorbed most of the force from the blow. Based on these observations, I conclude that most of my injuries are superficial and therefore, there’s no cause for concern.

Clark: Hmm, your brain waves look normal. There’s some bruising on your stomach but luckily there’s no internal bleeding. You should really get that wound on your back bandaged though, Tim, you’re bleeding a lot.

***

Clark: Your shoulder’s dislocated, Jason, and that wound seems to be inflamed.

Jason: Oh, this? [Snaps his shoulder back into place] Meh, I’ve had worse. I’ll just clean this with alcohol. [pours the beer that he’s drinking onto the wound, ignoring Bruce’s outraged gasp] Voila, good as new.

***

Clark: All good, Dick. Clean bill of health!

Dick: Heh, no one’s fast enough to land a blow on me!

Jason: Check his head again, Superman. I think you may have missed something.

Damian: You wanna test that theory, Grayson?

Tim: The probability of that clean bill of health is decreasing as we speak.

Dick: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

***

Bruce: That’s it, all of you report to the med bay. Now. Except Dick. His brain is fine, boys, so you can put your hands down.

Clark: Not so fast. I need to check on you too, Bruce. I can see your brain already calculating ways of escape.

Bruce: …Fine. Get on with it.

Clark:

Bruce: Clark?

Clark:

Bruce: Clark, are you done yet?

Clark: Beautiful

Cue the groans and sounds of retching in the batcave.

[sthilarions]

(We’re working in a slight AU where cats can see ghosts but can’t talk because otherwise this would get weird. I considered a bunny or a ferret to avoid the issue but - whatever. Anyway)

Charles faced Edwin’s empty chair behind the desk, addressing it, in the empty office. “Edwin. So - I know you’re going to be kind of mad. And I know about the Puppy Debacle. And that was bad all around, you were all the way right that time, I’m not saying you weren’t. But after the case at the shelter today - it’s just, he reminded me so much of you, with that little head tilt, yeah?”

He paused. “And we have Crystal and Niko around now anyway so it’s not like we’re still keeping the no living rule, at this point, and, he’s got this little marking on his neck like your bowtie, and he came right up to me to play but then this big guy came in and he curled up against the wall and he looked just like you did in - and there’s no version of this where I don’t come get you, is there, even if you’re a cat, and - ”

He smacked himself, hard, on the head, with his free hand. “Fucking stupid, Charles, why would you even say that? You’re gonna have to come up with something way better than that. Fuck.”

There was a sound from behind him and Charles jumped violently and hid his cargo in his coat. He did not turn around.

“Charles,” Edwin said, from behind him. “You are not stupid, fucking or otherwise. However - ” he paused. “I don’t suppose you could turn around?”

Charles shook his head. “I’d rather not just at the mo’, mate,” he said, holding his coat shut.

“As you wish. As I was saying, to you instead of to an empty chair, I will note, I, ah, I know I was the one to initially stand against the Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94, but it has been thirty-one years since then, and our lifestyles have shifted, and the circumstances are rather different now than then. She’s not a hellhound, to start with - ”

“Wait, hang on,” Charles said. “Whaddayamean, ‘she’?”

Edwin took a deep breath. He was getting better at doing that without being told. “When we were separated, at the shelter. And I was looking in their Special Care area. They said she had been - ” Edwin broke off.

“Hurt,” he continued, “for a while, but she’s ready to adopt now, they just hadn’t moved her out yet to keep things familiar for her. And she came up to me immediately, even though she looked so scared when I walked in, and you know dogs can’t see our disguises so she must have had a near-death experience before, and she licked my hand, which was a very slimy experience but we can find a way to protect the books and ingredients and other items, I’m sure there must be an anti-drool charm somewhere, and when the poltergeist started attacking she tried to get in between it and me even though she was trembling, you may have heard the barking before I got back to you? And they said that Saint Bernards are actually quite good in flats, so long as they get walks, and - ”

Sometime partway through that monologue Charles had spun around. He wasn’t quite sure when, because he’d immediately had his brain go almost completely blank at the sight of the absolutely massive dog standing, jowls in what looked kinda like a loose grin, dangling long trails of drool, at Edwin’s side.

Edwin finally cut himself off, looking down towards Charles’s chest, where his coat had fallen open when his arms loosened as a result of his shock. “And they said she’s very good with cats,” Edwin concluded. “So that’s all right.”

Charles bent over in delighted laughter, careful not to squeeze the cat in his arms. “Well,” he said, after getting the laughter under control a bit, “they told me this little guy was very good with dogs. So I guess that works out.”

Charles looked at the dog for a minute, and Edwin looked at the cat for a minute, and then they both spoke at the same second. “Crystal’s going to be furious.”

[wukyma]

Oh you answered my question ♡ thank u, you fed us so much with all this lore !

First of all, the new poseidon illustration is now my new phone wallpaper, omg his pretty big face with the voluptuous hair .

Second of all, pretty please continue even without pictures ! I'm so interested in your Au! (Ur so right about the not-excuses of Odysseus, I would want Vengeance tho after this bad self-centered justification)

Love the poli/peri/emperor friendship, it's not the first time I see this headcanon and it's such a good idea actually (of course SweetBoyPoli is friend with everyone but the impeccable flavor of a friendship between opposites is still very cool/ complementary) !

But but if I can ask for pictures i would die to see 👀 the moment where they conclude the deal ?

(Also the HAND almost ON Polites FACE??? I have stated at that one for definitely too long. Oh god. Please, its kinda make me feral. )

💫Tatooed Polities ?💫 I must see him with the trident tattoo one day... OR even better : eurylochus/ody reaction to it! Because They know him for almost forever now, so the devastating realitie must be so hard on them (having a deal with a strong and violent god such as the earthshaker and all the implications, ohh good Angst!)

Okay, tell me I read that right too, Poli becoming ✨️friend ✨️ with Circe ?? Fuck your brain is big. Gotta think about the events on circe island with your Polities, that change everything for the better. Of course they can't fight so that rule out Ody and the Moly but maybe Hermes's still here anyway ? Like the little mischievous god he is...

So I have to ask, is Poseidon gonna spy on the fleet -especially Poli since he's beefing with him- ? I kinda have this picture of water spirits reporting to the god every steps ? Tell me if I'm in the wrong ~

(I'm SO ready for mockery tho 🧨 )

Honestly I'm really invested here so every choice is good ♡ would appreciate to read more anyway

(Not very good at detective sorry but hoping someone else will find it!)

FIRST OF ALL receive my massive thanks for writing such a detailed comment on my AU!! These guys are very dear to me, and it makes me extremely happy when someone matches my freak has the same vision <33

And you made it your wallpaper?? I'll bawl fr. Sadlyy i didn't really think through the moment where they concluded the deal, but have an interpretation! (Watch as i struggle drawing without any references except my own face)

The tattoo situation is interesting too because its purpose isn't only to seal the deal ;D hoping that I'll be able to show how that works in the next part— and yes, you're right about Circe; I don't care that it's basically a spoiler because they are just besties material 🫶✨️ can definitely promise a glimpse of Hermes!!

I didn't think of Poseidon using spies, but that's kinda adorable and I'll draw it anyway hehe,, something something water winions lore

(The bottom two are both from water but different species/habitats ig? Whatever, I didn't think too much about it)

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

[dulcecherub]

popstar!reader x ex boyfriend!rafe where she goes on her first tour and hes in the crowd!? (i dont mind where you take this)

- 🎀🥰

Aaaa!! I’m so glad you asked, this is my favorite topic. Lowkey was writing something like this already but this will just be a different version to it. Sorry this took so long, I had a lot going on. I work a lot so it’s hard for me to make time sometimes. Plus I didn’t know what direction to take this. So sorry if it’s butt cheeks. Also I’m using Sabrina’s music cause I love her 🤭 another note, this doesn’t follow the description I made for girly!popstar reader because this came first. So this is yours anon.

Border: @chilumitos

The anticipation was turning your stomach inside out. You were in your fifth city and should have been accustomed to touring by now. But still, this was different. You were back in Kildare, the fresh ocean air hitting your face, as you stared out into the crowd. You were hidden behind curtains. The nerves were rushing through you.

“It’s been a while, huh?”Mike,one of the boys who danced with you asked, you simply nodded your head. It’d been too long actually. You’d made sure that you played in your hometown. Hoping that it would be enough for one blue eyed boy to come out and see you. But you weren’t sure, the music you made didn’t seem like something he would be into.

“Too long.”

This tour so far was taking a lot out of you. You hadn’t anticipated how much of a demand you became. You’d sold out almost every show that you had listed. It was crazy and the magnitude of it, still couldn’t conclude in your brain.

“Congratulations girl. Seems like you brought out a big crowd. You must have been popular.”

Which was further than the truth, but you laughed at his joke anyway.

“You go up in five!” Ricky, one of the tour managers says. “Get into position people!”

“You ready?”

You nodded, the crowd is loud, unexpectedly. You hadn’t known how many people were going to be here. Your heart was racing, but this was your favorite part.

You waited until it was your cue…

Wheezie had been persistent. She’d been there since the beginning of your journey; quite literally. So she had wanted to come out to one of your shows. She’d asked Ward and Rose, they shared worried glances over at Rafe.

“It’s fine.. it’s not like you’re asking me to go.” Rafe says, but Wheezie has a look on her face that says otherwise.

“Why? She’s my ex girlfriend. That’s weird.” Rafe said but deep down he knew he wanted to go. His heart still beat for you, he just didn’t want to admit to that. He would look soft and he hated looking soft.

“I still have hope for the two of you.” Wheeze admits. Rafe rolls eyes but his heart flutters.

“Hope is for suckers.”

She managed to make him come to your show. A big grin on her face, Sarah managed to weasel her way into seeing you as well. The Cameron siblings never got along well. Wheezie getting along separately which each of them. But somehow you managed to bring them all together.

“Introducing.. the one and only.. Y/N L/N.” You ran out on stage, a cute little smile on your face. Rafes heart leaped as he saw you. He couldn’t believe he was seeing you living your dream.

“Oh I leave quite an impression..”

Your eyes spotted Rafe, halfway through the song. Your heart raced, you hadn’t expected this to happen. Never believed in a million years, you would see those bright blue eyes again. You noticed Wheezie and Sarah in the crowd with him. Your heart swelled even more.

The song finishes, your heart racing as you run of to the other side of the stage. You felt awkwardness trying to built a home in you. But you shook it off with a head shake. The next song was one that you made about him. When you were angry and you weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I won’t give a fuck about you.”

The song began and you had to start singing once more. You were getting the audience pumped up and you could spot Wheezie and Sarah dancing. Rafe had his arms crossed, his jaw ticking. Great.

“I won’t give a fuck about you!” You sang into the mic then turning it to the crowd. They repeated the words as you did so. You spot Sarah singing it into Rafes face and he rolls his eyes. A giggle you can’t hear over the crowd escapes her lips. Wheezie is smiling up at you and you smile back.

“My cute ass bye bye!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you danced along to your music. Thankfully, it looked like it was apart of the show.—What were the odds, Rafe was here, Wheezie and Sarah made sense. But you don’t know how they managed to drag Rafe along with them. You continue on anyway, you had a show to put on. And you were surprised how amp up everyone was. How many of them knew the lyrics to your song.

This felt so surreal, like you couldn’t believe people here still kept up to date with you.

Rafe had always known you were someone meant for a life bigger than you. So this was no surprise, it stung to know that he was inches away from you. But unable to hold you, kiss you, to be with you. You were finally at your final three songs.

He could tell Wheezie and Sarah were having fun. He hated that he was the sore thumb in the situation. His arms were crossed, not because he didn’t want to be here. But because this wasn’t how he expected things to have gone between the two of you. Things had fallen apart so badly and he didn’t think it was irreversible. He had let things hang in the air like it didn’t matter. When it did.

“You know she’s here for a couple of more days until she leaves again..” Sarah says, her eyes still on you, Rafe slowly turns to her.

“How do you know that?”

Sarah only smiles looking up at him.

You had stopped by one of the local coffee shops the next day, tired from night 1 out of the three shows you were going to do at Kildare. You tapped your fingers gently on the table, your eyes staring at the door. Waiting for someone…

Rafe stepped through the threshold, his eyes immediately going to you. Maybe, sometimes relationships can be rekindled.

“Hi…

[soursturniolo]

Hurtful Words • Nick Sturniolo

Synopsis: Nick and his boyfriend get into a fight the night before leaving for Boston. After some of the harsh words from Nick, his boyfriend is left hurt and uncertain of his place in his boyfriends life.

Pairing: Nick x male reader/character (no y/n but also no other name used, he/him pronouns)

Tags: angst, hurt, a bit of sunshine!reader x grumpy!nick, nick has a panic attack, comfort (happy ending because I guess I'm not 100% evil yet)

Nick had been extremely stressed all day. Nothing was going right, first he woke up late and missed his meeting. Then, he went to edit a video they had prefilmed to post while him, his brothers, and his boyfriend would be in Boston, just to discover the SD card was corrupted and nothing could be salvaged from it. Next, he developed a horrible headache as he was rushing to finish up packing for the flight tomorrow morning. Now, he was getting ready to film a replacement video with his brothers right as his cheerful boyfriend strode into his bedroom. Fuck , Nick thought to himself. He had forgotten his boyfriend was coming this early.

“Hey!” his boyfriend smiled as he made his way over to him, arms open for the usual hug they’d share. Most always, his boyfriends sunny disposition made him smile, but today it just made him irrationally angry.

“Hi,” Nick responds flatly, not meeting his partners eyes as he dodged the hug and affection being offered. If Nick had been looking up he would have seen the look of confusion and concern flash across the other man’s face as his arms lowered to the side upon seeing that Nick clearly didn’t want a hug.

The other man frowns as he takes in Nick’s disheveled appearance, hair sticking up from most likely stressful tugging, a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. Knowing Nick for almost a year now, he knows his boyfriend isn’t one to immediately talk out his feelings, so he doesn’t ask but quickly concludes it must have been quite a rough day for the brunette. Usually in these situations, they’ll cuddle and relax and watch some stupid TV show, so that’s what the man suggests. To which, Nick scoffs.

“I don’t have time to just lay around with you, I need to go do my job, I have so much shit I need to do before tomorrow,” Nick gripes, moving around to grab the camera and SD cards off his desk, stuffing them into a bag to take to the car where he’s sure his brothers are already waiting for him. In packing he’d lost track of time, looking at his phone to see its already 17 minutes past the time they said they’d meet in the garage.

His boyfriend nods in understanding, seeing the obvious stress practically pouring out of every pore of his boyfriend. He reaches out a hand, gently touching Nick’s arm, trying his best to sooth him.

“is there anything I can do to help?” he asks softly.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaims, feeling overwhelmed by everything all at once, like his skin is on fire and every little thing makes his head pound even harder, yaking his arm away from the other man’s touch “yknow what actually, there is. Just leave me the fuck alone for two seconds!”

The man frowns slightly, taking a step back at Nick’s sudden outburst, wrapping his own arms around him, head cooking to the side minutely.

“we’ve been apart all day? I’m just trying to help, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to give him a soft smile, which just makes Nick scoff and roll his eyes again. A deep frown paints his boyfriends face at the reaction, the man tightening his arms around himself, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“And you come in here all fucking smiles and hugs. you’re just happy all the fucking time. Just this fucking ray of sunshine. Some of us fucking aren’t. Maybe this just wasn’t a good idea.” Nick spits out, his words venom. Part of his brain is yelling at him to shut up seeing the hurt look spreading over his boyfriends face, but the angry voice overshadows that one, just wanting everyone to feel has horrible as he feels.

“What? What isn’t a good idea?” the man asks him, voice small, fearing the answer. Did Nick mean him coming to Boston along with his brothers to finally meet his parents? While he had been nervous about meeting his boyfriends parents at first, in the past few days he had become quite excited. Thinking of meeting his family, his family dog too. He had bought gifts for them all, even a chew toy for Trevor. Even today, the young man had found himself daydreaming at work, thinking of how well it all might go, imagining them all sitting around a table looking at photo albums and smiling as he learns more about the past of the man he so desperately wants a future with.

Nicks quick response has those hopes shattering, along with his heart.

“This. Us. I don’t know. I just need to fucking breathe. I’m leaving to film with Chris and Matt. Bye.” Nick half yells, voice strained as he stalks his way to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving a tearful man standing in the middle of the room wondering where it all went so wrong.

Nick was distracted the whole entire time they were filming, overcome with guilt and regret. He had been so harsh to his boyfriend, his number one supporter, next to his family of course. Flashes of the other man’s hurt face flicker in his mind, the timid and soft nature he had taken on as Nick raged at him, a shadow of the mans usually bright and bubbly demeanor. Even when he was short with him at first, instead of just leaving, his sweet boyfriend had still apologized and compassionately offered help. And what did Nick do to show his appreciation? Told him callously that maybe them dating had been a bad idea.

That wasn’t true in the slightest. They’d been together 7 months at this point, and it had been some of the happiest months of Nick’s life. He’d experienced a happiness that he never thought he’d get even remotely close to again, and this was how he repaid the man? Throwing his cheerful and sweet nature in his face as if it was something to be ashamed of? It made him sick to his stomach to recall how he’d behaved.

Noticing their brothers distraction, Matt and Chris suggested cutting the video short, under the guise of wanting to get on good nights sleep before their early flight home. The drive home was quick and quiet as Nick thought of all the ways he’d apologize to his sweet boyfriend who had a heart almost too good to be true.

The brothers quickly said goodnight and parted ways, Nick taking the stairs two at a time to get to his room so he could ask for the man’s forgiveness. Upon opening the door, he’s met with disappointment. He had left. Nick knew he shouldn’t be surprised though. As he pulls out his phone to call the man he knew he had hurt, a bag on his bed catches his eye, along with a note. He peaks in the bag, confused upon seeing four boxes wrapped in a plain purple wrapping paper, as he picks up the letter, recognizing the handwriting and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as he begins to read.

Nick,

I’m sorry, I never meant to upset you. I know I can be a lot, and I understand if it’s gotten too much to deal with. I was really looking forward to seeing Boston and meeting your family. But it’d be silly for me to tag along now, at this point. I had gotten some things for your parents, Justin, and Trevor. I was hoping you’d maybe give them to them for me?

Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for my plane ticket if it’s too late to cancel it.

Thank you for the last 7 months, they meant the world to me. You did, too.

Nick feels tears gather in his eyes, beginning to stream down his face as he sits the letter down and quickly scrolls to his contact on his phone.

"please, pick up, pick up, pick up" he mutters, sniffling as he waits and hopes he'll answer. A shred of hope blooms upon hearing his call answered answer, the soft noise of a car engine in the back. Good, maybe his boyfriend hadn't made it home yet.

"baby?" Nick sniffles slightly, voice cracking. He hears the man on the other end of the line sniffle too, and he feels his heart crack a little more. he'd made his sweetheart cry.

"what do you need, nick?" the other man asks softly and tearfully.

"I need you. please turn around, I know you’re still in the car. I'm so sorry," Nick pleads.

"it's okay Nick," he sniffles, "just give those gifts to them, please?" he asks.

"no, I'm not," Nick cries, tears streaming down his face, one hand clutching his hair as the other clutches his phone against his ear, sagging against the wall and sliding down it into a heap on the floor, his chest feeling tighter and tighter.

"okay, I'll get them back from you when you guys get back home," he offers, which just makes Nick cry harder. He really fucked up this time.

"no, no you're supposed to give them to them, I want you to, I want you to turn around and come back here so I can tell you how fucking sorry I am and kiss you and watch a stupid movie with you and then we get up and we go to Boston tomorrow morning and you get to meet my family and see where I'm from and everything and they'll love you and your little gifts and your smile that can light up a room and they'll love you because I love you," he pleads over the phone, desolving into sobs on the phone.

the other man on the line tears up again at the sweet words and obvious remorse, and he wants to respond to them but Nick is spiraling in regret and sadness and he can hear that it's getting harder for him to breathe through his cries.

he turns the car around, beginning to take a shortcut back to the triplets house.

"Nick, I need you to breathe," the man says softly, hearing the loud cries through the speakers of his car.

"No, I'm not Nick, you never call me nick when we're alone, its always Nicky or sweetheart or babe," the brunette sobs, still feeling like his relationship is slipping through his fingers, and it's his own fault.

The man grips his steering wheel a little tighter, driving a little faster.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just need you to breathe for me, in your nose and out your mouth real slow for me okay? you know that box breathing technique I showed matt a few months ago?" he softly asks Nick.

"Yeah," Nick sniffles, breathing still shaking and disordered.

"Good baby, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe with me okay? I'm almost there but I need you to breathe for me until I get there, okay?" He asks softly.

As he continues to drive, he counts off and listens as Nick breathes with him, slight sniffles still present as he tries to focus on getting his breathing regulated with the knowledge that his boyfriend is coming back.

Nick doesn't even register the sound of his boyfriends car turning off or the sound of him using his house key to get in. his head jerks up to look up from his spot on the floor to see his boyfriend standing in his doorway. He quickly moves from his position on the floor, getting up and launching himself into his boyfriends arms.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean a fucking word I said," he sobs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly and burrowing his head into his neck, his tears wetting the skin. His boyfriend holds him just as snuggly in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as the other hand cups the back of his head softly.

"I know, its alright," the man sooths, but the words have an opposite affect on Nick, as the brunette pulls back quickly as he shakes his head.

"It's not alright! I was mean because I had a bad day and my head fucking hurts, and I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I love you, and I love your personality and how loving and happy you are. It isnt something I or anyone should throw in your face. I should have talked to you, I should have thanked you for wanting to help me. I'm so sorry, ill be better, I'll get better at talking to you and communicating and not just blowing up at you for no reason," Nick sniffles, roughly wiping away his own tears.

"Okay, I forgive you," the other man offers softly, as he gently pulls Nick's hands away from the rough rubbing of his face.

"No! You shouldn't just forgive me, why are you being so nice right now?" Nick objects, confused by his boyfriends behavior as more tears make their way down his face.

The other man smiles softly and sadly, guiding his boyfriend over to the bed and sitting, pulling Nick down to sit right next to him. He gently guides Nicks head to rest on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the man in a comforting embrace that Nick easily allows himself to be pulled into, the closeness easing the pain and regret in his heart.

"Let me ask you a couple things, okay? Maybe that'll help you understand why I'm forgiving you?" he offers, carding his fingers though Nick's hair softly, as he feels Nick nod and whisper is consent into his shoulder.

"Do you genuinely regret how you treated me?" A quick and firm nod from Nick.

"Do you see how hurtful your misplaced irritation can be?" Another firm nod and squeeze from Nick's arms around him is felt.

"Do you genuinely plan on working on communicating with me and being better in the future so this doesn't happen again?" Another nod and squeeze.

"Do you still love me and want to be with me, and want me to come to Boston with you?" This receives the fastest nod and squeeze of all the questions, making the man smile and turn to press a soft kiss to Nick's head.

"See. You acknowledged and took ownership of what you did wrong, you plan to work on being better, and I know you're genuinely sorry and regret hurting me the way you did. I trust you, so I trust what you say and the fact that this will not happen again. We will deal better the next time," he explains softly to the man in his arms.

"Okay. I promise I'll do better, I love you," Nick hoarsely whispers against his shoulder, cuddling more into the other man's side.

"I know, I love you too," Nick smiles wobbly as he hears those words and feels another kiss pressed against his head. He leans up, softly pressing his lips against the man's jaw, then his cheek, then thr corner of his mouth, smiling when we feels the skin move under his lips into a matching smile. Then, Nick presses their lips together in a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey all the love and warmth he feels for the man in his embrace. His own ray of sunshine.

author's note: hey! i hope yall enjoyed! if you have any nick requests feel free to send em my way! im slowly but surely getting back into writing and i really want to write more for nick :)

no tag list on this post because I'm getting ready to redo my old tag list since most either aren't active anymore or have new usernames

[thewertsearch]

EB: i would like to be culturally sensitive, but i wish it didn't have to be like that for you. […] AG: Well, thanks John. That's nice of you to say. 8ut let's face it, it doesn't fucking matter anymore, since our whole race was wiped out! […] AG: […] we'll never actually get to come of age and enter troll society, and see if we got what it takes. AG: 8ut that doesn't mean we stop growing up! AG: I think the game knows it's always gonna 8e played 8y kids, and it always rigs it so they enter right around the cusp of sexual maturity, whatever the race is. AG: Which kinda makes sense, since if they succeed, they've got their whole lives ahead of them to do whatever the hell they're going to do in their universe, like start repopul8ing and whatnot.

Vriska thinks that Sburb Players are always kids, because the game wants to give them more time to live in their universe. I'm a little skeptical, and not just because it de-canonizes my Homestucksona.

With the scale of what we’ve seen so far in the game, I didn’t expect a paltry concern like human lifespan to matter. With access to cloning, time travel and brain duplication, rejuvenating one's body would be trivial for a non-ascended Sburb Player, let alone a god of Life or Time.

AG: I really think how successfully they mature is tied to success in the game. It challenges the players in all the ways they need to 8e challenged to grow, which is different for every individual, and veeeeeeeery different for every race.

If Sburb absorbs the cultural standards of its Players, then I’m very happy we didn’t see the Quests that the game tailor-made for the Alternian Empire.

That would explain why we’ve never seen any troll Consorts, though. It's because they were conquered.

AG: I don't think we were so hot at that aspect of the game. In fact, I'm sure we were quite awful. Hell, even I wasn't that gr8 at it! I actually just kinda fell ass 8ackwards into the god tier, to 8e honest.

I wouldn't put too much stock into Sburb's idea of 'growth'. Its primary purpose is to propagate reality, and it's probably designed to mold you into someone well-suited to that task, regardless of your own desires. Your happiness and personal fulfillment is a secondary concern, at best.

Listen to what Sburb has to say, if you want - but take it with a huge pinch of salt. I doubt it has your best interests at heart.

AG: 8ut what really gets me is this didn't even occur to me until just now, while I was sitting around thinking a8out it. […] AG: That was why the game split us up into two teams. AG: It knew as we came of age, we'd pro8a8ly start killing each other. AG: So it just provided the stage. Red team vs. 8lue. It was so simple! All we had to do was what we were naturally inclined to. It might have worked out 8etter for us.

I don't agree with this take on the teams, either.

My interpretation is pretty much the opposite of Vriska's. I’ve always believed that the game pretended to split the trolls into teams, in order to trick them into joining one single cooperative group. If we assume propagation is Sburb's primary goal, then it must have concluded that this arrangement increased their chances of victory. In other words, the trolls are better together.

Plus, Sburb has never even hinted that the game can or should be played competitively. I think Vriska's just searching for reasons why everything's gone so wrong, and she's fallen back on Alternian conditioning again. Successful trolls kill, so her team must have failed because there weren't enough killings.

[mrsjellymunson]

YELLOW (2)

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up writing event Somewhere Over the Rainbow | Prompt: Yellow | Song: The Lemon Song, Led Zeppelin | Word Count: ~1.3k | Rating: E 18+ MDNI | Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington | CW: Angst, hurt, arguing, paranoia, mentions of drugs, sexual content, masturbation (m), ambiguous ending | Tags: Corroded Coffin, on tour, Steddie, established relationship, Eddie Munson is an idiot, Eddie Munson has issues

My masterlist

It’s like this every tour now. First, Eddie leaves. Then, he feels guilty for leaving. Then, he gets lonely, spends too much time on social media, and starts to believe what all the gossip pages tell him - that Steve's too good for him, that he’ll eventually find attention and solace somewhere else. With someone else. Then, he gets paranoid, jealous, angry. And then, he calls Steve, wanting to put it all behind him, but, somehow, they always end up fighting. 

“I should’ve quit you, babe, a long time ago. Oh yeah, Steve, a long time ago.”

“Please Eddie, don't say that. Not again…”

“I should have listened, baby, to my second mind. Everytime I go away and leave you, darling, you send me the blues way down the line.”

Steve constantly placates Eddie, reassuring him that there isn’t anyone else, that there never will be. And the last thing Eddie wants is to hurt Steve, but he can’t seem to stop. He knows it must get tiresome, all the defending and the cajoling. And Steve’s starting to resent the accusations, he can tell; even if they are baseless it still really hurts him, and Eddie can’t really blame him for biting back. So yeah, maybe they would be better off without each other. Eddie reckons Steve would certainly be better off without him…

Selfishly he thinks, he can’t do it tonight, can’t bring himself to cut himself off from the one good thing in his life. And so, their fight just escalates. Eddie's speech is rapid, high-pitched, and it's obvious he's spiralling. What he's saying is cruel, he knows that. Nevertheless, he can’t stop.

“You know what they say, baby? They tell me you're not satisfied. They worry me, baby. People worry, baby, that I can't keep you satisfied. Is that true, baby? Are you unsatisfied?”

Eddie's been like this for months, and Steve's exhausted as he's forced, yet again, to defend himself. When he speaks his voice cracks and he sounds quiet, broken.

“No, baby. Of course I’m not.”

Eddie barely hears him and barrels on, 

“I work as hard as I can, you know that, right? I bring home my money. Our money. But do you take my money, give it to another man?”

It's a low blow, even for him, and Eddie himself doesn't believe that one. But being away from Steve so often, and for so long, is making his brain think ridiculous things, make ridiculous leaps. It's not helped by the booze, the weed, the white powders. Everything’s so much more abundant now, so… available. Combined with Eddie's long-standing insecurities and sensitivity to rejection, Steve can almost understand why he'd be on the offensive so much. Almost. 

But now, he can’t even speak, and just sniffs quietly into the receiver as Eddie concludes,

“I should have quit you, baby. Ohh, such a long time ago.”

He barely hears Steve’s voice as he whispers his reply around a sob,

“Yeah, maybe you should have. You know, I could walk away from you too. Did you ever think of that?”

Eddie's too wound up to even process that last part, and he hardly registers when Steve ends the call with a quiet click. It hits him afterwards, what Steve implied. How he could lose him, all thanks to his own pathetic and unreasonable behaviour, and he hates himself for it.

So he rattles around his hotel suite, and his cruel brain makes him think about the good times, what he'd lose if Steve made good on his threat. He thinks about how well Steve treats him, the way they are when they’re together. He thinks about Steve's sparkling eyes, his tinkling laugh, how he runs his hands through his hair, and how good he looks when he does. He thinks about how Steve hugs, how he kisses, and how he crosses his arms across his chest when Eddie’s being an endearing idiot. And then he ruminates on how good that makes him look, his shirt stretched taut over those delicious biceps, those amazing tits. He remembers how Steve looks at him when he wants something, that look he gets when he wants him.

He recalls how it used to be, when Eddie first started going on tour. How Steve would help him relax before a gig, the intimate ritual they developed. Eddie would call him, and they'd both settle in their respective beds. They'd talk each other up, murmur filth to each other, moan and gasp and get each other off, and Eddie would go on to give the best performances of his career. He feels his dick start to fill out at the memories.

And now, he can't help thinking about Steve's mouth, how it's so warm, so wet, how it feels made to take his cock. The way his dexterous tongue seems to know him so goddamn well, and how it finds every ridge and furrow with such exquisite pressure and precision it drives Eddie wild. He thinks about how Steve’s fingers feel when they’re wrapped around his length, how his technique is so perfect now, how he knows exactly what Eddie likes. The way his talented hands will stroke and tease and grip and squeeze until his juice runs down his leg. He muses over the way that Steve squeezes him so good he almost falls right out of bed.

And so, Eddie does what he often does now when he hangs up after a fight. He lies on the luxurious but impersonal hotel bed and pulls his sweats down under his balls. Without ceremony or lube he grasps himself and runs his fist over his swollen cock roughly, aggressively. Not taking care like Steve would; there’s no reverence, no adoration, no joy. He all but forces orgasms out of himself these days, like he's torturing himself, as if it’s a punishment.

It's taking longer each time now too, but eventually he cums with a broken moan, pressing the back of his head into the pillow and spattering his shirt, a single name on his lips as he shouts into the passionless space,

“Steve, Steve! Baby, baby, baby!”

He slumps back onto the bed with a grunt, spent but far from euphoric. The space euphoria used to fill is now occupied by shame, guilt, self-loathing. And today, it's joined by the nagging, needling feeling that this time he might actually have pushed Steve too far…

That night’s concert is a blur, Eddie on autopilot but still giving it his all. The crowd laps it up, but he feels numb, dead inside. Back at the hotel he considers calling Steve again for the hundredth time. He hasn’t picked up all night and Eddie can't really blame him. He wouldn’t be surprised if, this time, Steve has actually packed up and left, the phone ringing out into the empty space where he should be. Eddie muses that it's only what he deserves, he can't be trusted with anything good. He always ruins it. Always. 

He has to keep trying, has to let Steve know that he's decided this is the last time, the final long tour. That he's going to tell the record label it's studio albums and intimate gigs from now on or he's quitting. And if he still wants to leave? If Eddie's pushed him so far away he doesn't want to come back? Well, that's just something Eddie's going to have to live with. By which he means hate and deride himself over it for the rest of his days.

So, he calls again, giving it one last try. This time there’s a clack and the dial tone ceases and, whilst there's no answer, there's also no voicemail. He deludes himself into thinking the soft static hiss might actually be soft breathing, and he takes a chance, grasping at his last thread of hope and whispering into the receiver,

“S-Steve..?”

Thanks so much for reading! I can hardly believe I turned an opportunity for blatant filth into something so painful 🫢🫣

My masterlist

Taggin’ my usuals: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction

[anodetoswag]

ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔶𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

Synopsis: Starting beef in the morning bus because being a hater isn't a hobby, it's a lifestyle.

It's dumb. Cretinous, even. There is absolutely no logical excuse he has for playing chicken, let alone with someone he doesn't even know. But the undeniable truth of the matter is that he's a petty, petty man and this competition satiates some deep rooted depravity in his soul.

Yesterday he'd come in an hour early just to see you standing there even before him. Of course, he'd mentally raged up a storm even though all you were spared was a stink eye. He could practically feel your smugness as if it were a tangible thing he dreamt about taking into the palms of his hand and crushing into bits before feeding it to the pigeons in the park .

He'd sworn vengeance upon you, your bloodline, your neighbor and your neighbor's mailbox. Being a man of action, he had every intention to complete this quest today. So, he woke up at five in the morning, just to be here two hours earlier than he had to be. The sight of the empty bus stand fills him with an inexplicable sense of jubilation. Sure, it earned more than a few odd looks from occasional jogger taking this route since the first bus came hours later but the high of his victory combined with his inability to give a fuck were enough to not let that affect him whatsoever.

He waits and waits and then waits some more but there's no sign of you. Finally ,he sees the bus coming from up ahead and concludes the humiliation of your defeat once you spotted him there from a distance must have been too great for you to bear. So you took back to home.

Climbing up the steps, his eyes naturally fall on the seat that he always occupies. The feeling of elation sublimates into nothingness the moment he catches sight of you in it.

The one next to you is empty so naturally, he marches over and begins fuming silently. You don't notice him, too occupied with something on your phone.

"How come you weren't at the station but you're on the bus?"

Your eyes snap over to him, looking momentarily displeased at being pulled out of the early morning brain rot of your choice.

"You don't take the bus on Saturdays."

He scowls. Not only did you not answer his question, you even pointed out something you have no business knowing.

"And you know that because," he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

This earns a roll of your eyes before you turn to look at the scenery outside. What better way to start the day but by looking at concrete jungles representing state of the art capitalism and classism?

The bus slows down after a few minutes and he stands up, earning an odd look from you.

"Don't you have a few more stops to go?"

Your question earns another look. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been stalking me." 

“I’m just observant.” 

He looks unconvinced but his stop is already here and he’d rather not miss today. So he turns to walk over to the door but not before the confession falls out of his lips. “This is my stop. I just sat longer so I could stay in that seat. Besides, it’s good cardio to walk a little.” He’s gone before you can ridicule him.

Secretly, you can’t help but be a little impressed by the sheer spite the universe has stuffed in this stranger's being . The next time you see him, maybe you’ll let him in on your own secret. After all, you’d been walking a stop further from your own at an ungodly hour just to keep this senseless enmity going. 

BLLK: Kaiser, Raichi

BNHA: Bakugou, Monoma

Haikyuu: Tsukishima, Kageyama

First divider credit to @bernardsbendystraws. Can't remember where I got the second one. If anyone knows, hmu and I'll give credit.

[degenerata69]

Now that I have everyones attention on my Ddakwoo agenda, here is a rundown on how the games recruited Sang-Woo because he was depressed and horny (very unserious and NSFW).

He was depressed because his life was going to shit, he tried to cope by drinking and smoking but those weren't having an effect anymore.

Due to years represing his sexuality, he got a raging boner and concluded his brilliant-SNU-business-graduate-brain would work again if he took care of the problem.

He considered calling Gi-Hun to bring back the old times where they were young and careless, but decided against it out of fear he would know about his current state.

He decided to enter on Grindr, determined to find a tall and gorgeous man who has good mannerisms and knows how to follow instructions.

Il-Nam and In-Ho were intrigued by Sang-Woo, and how could someone with that title could end up in such a shit situation. They wanted him in by all means necessary.

They were unsure if they'd be successful at recruiting him, but when the Salesman saw that he "never married or had kids," he knew what to do, proposing to bet that he'd get Sang-Woo to join the games.

They match on Grindr. He had successfully managed to captivate the attention of Sang-Woo by his good looks and was specially interested in the notion of "open for everything" in the description.

They were direct, discussing that they were going to engage in sexual relations. Heavily empathizing with the usage of condoms, to bring a medical statement highlighting neither had STD's, and they must have discretion about their intimacy behind closed doors.

They agree to do BDSM and role-playing, being "top" or "bottom" relied on the roleplay chosen. Sang-Woo empathize that he doesn't believe in "safe words," If he says "stop," you must stop. The Recruiter proposes a "punishment and rewards" system, which Sang-Woo agrees, although he was only looking for degradation, he was willing to compromise by accepting rewards.

They signed a contract highlighting what they agreed on chats, bringing the medical statements and having everything notarized. Thanks to this, Sang-Woo is one of the few people who knows his full, legal name.

Before meeting, they sex chatted, so Sang-Woo had his mind fogged by the stress and the fact he was impatient to get fucked.

The Recruiter leads them to an empty park near his apartment. He takes out his suitcase and says he won't get there until they play a "warm up" game. Although that wasn't part of the contract, the blue balls got the best of him and agreed.

They play Ddakji, Sang-Woo doesn't put much effort, trying to get it over quickly. But got aroused by each slap. By the time he succeeds, The Recruiter gives him the 100,000 won, his pants were about to explode, he couldn't hide his erection.

Pleased with the reaction, he puts everything inside of the of the suitcase, grabbing Sang-Woo and walking quickly to the building.

Once inside of the apartment, they desperately kiss, taking off their clothes to throw him in the bed.

"For the first roleplay, you are a whore who'd do anything for money" Sang-Woo nods his head, following the command of The Salesman since he didn't have anything to oppose.

Once they finish, he throws money in the air, like if Sang-Woo was a stripper. He begins to dress, excusing himself that work called and he had to attend. That he is welcome to stay the night and there is food on the fridge, or he could order take out.

Sang-Woo collapses out of the exhaustion. The next morning, he is still covered in money. Slowly picking it up, realizing it was real, he got scared.

The Salesman was in the kitchen preparing breakfast, he questions him about playing Ddakji in public and why he was handing him money.

The Salesman excuses himself for his attitude, saying he couldn't control himself, he thought it would be fun and to please forgive him. For now on, he'd be an obedient little dog to whatever Sang-Woo wants.

He says that giving him real money was more effective to him, as it was a geniune reaction of reward.

Sang-Woo is still horny, so he ignores the red flags.

They do plenty of roleplay, including but not limited to: fugitive scapes jail and fucks over a cop, employee fucks over boss, investor fucks over his client, as well as cop punishing a fugitive, boss punishing an employee that broke company policy, angry customer gets back at stupid investor who made him loose millions, loan shark taking advantage of a cocky investor, profesor taking advantage of ambitious student.

The Recruiter notices that it was all a reflection on his fears and frustrations. So he just gathers the information quietly, allowing Sang-Woo to feel judgement free to reveal more.

The weirdest RP request was of him being just one year older than Sang-Woo, dressed in humble clothes, with a cap, his hair a mess, and to look at him with the most pathetic eyes. He had to praise Sang-Woo for being a buisness graduate at SNU, to scream that he was glad he was back for him and he didn't care about the debt nor that he was fired, he loved him and cherished him regardless. When he fell to sleep, he kept murmuring, "I'm sorry, Hyung..." while hugging him tightly.

Each session ended with The Recruiter handing him money. Sometimes Sang-Woo would try to give it back and won't touch it, sometimes he'd grab it without saying a word, and rarely, he'd smile while counting the bills. Although the latter was becoming more common.

The Salesman keeps working, gathering other recruits and Sang-Woo never exits the apartment. He purchase new and luxurious clothes so Sang-Woo didn't see any reasons to leave.

They have casual conversations, mostly about the arts and philosophy. They find it pleasant. However, Sang-Woo is bothered by the fact The Recruiter is a classist, but doesn't express it outloud.

The Recruiter manages for Sang-Woo to admit he was in debt, when asked the number, he stated 600 million. The Salesman takes advantage of the situation to give him the card, saying he knew a place he'd make money by playing games.

Sang-Woo ofc is skeptical, especially because of the vague language.

They do RP where Sang-Woo is a scort. The Salesman takes advantage to say to him that "he might be an academical genius, but he was only good to spread himself open and take cock."

After a few more nights having a similar dynamic, Sang-Woo is slowly convinced that the invitation was to sex traffic him, maybe into some porn studio, maybe to be a scort. But he was fine with either. It seemed like it was what he "deserved," and he believed they'd pay good money by the way the Recruiter described it.

He finally makes the call to sign up, lying next to The Recruiter.

The day prior to be picked up, the Salesman teases Sang-Woo, saying he met a pathetic man in the subway, dressed like a "homeless" who just lost the money he earned by betting on horses. That he was just as eager to be slapped around in exchange of money, but because he sucked at Ddakji, he gave him the alternative to suck his dick instead. Rambling about how they went to the bathroom where he fucked his "pretty face," and earned some extra cash by allowing him to fuck him in other places aswell.

Sang-Woo was disgusted, asking him if he had done it with other people during his time with him, if he used protection, etc.

The Salesman swore he did, but Sang-Woo won't let him have sex with him until he brings an STD exam. So he complies, he couldn't get that at night, besides, he was going to leave the day after.

While waiting to be picked up, they stood up together, they chatted a little bit more about philosophy.

When Sang-Woo was getting into the car, the Salesman grabbed him by the neck and kissed him. Not much like a "goodbye kiss," but rather a "victory kiss," like if he earned the lottery. He pushed him and closed the door, seeing him getting knocked out by the gas.

Once Sang-Woo gets to the island, he gains a little bit of conscience, seeing him get undressed by masked guards in pink suits turned him on.

(Park Hae-Soo thought the guards were hot, let that sink in)

When he woke up, the first thing he heard was Gi-Hun making a fool of himself. But it didn't bother him. He was happy to see him, it meant they could pair up to shoot together a porn scene and be partners on the industry.

Then the realization hit him... Gi-Hun was there. He saw the screen, the number written on Gi-Hun, realizing that Gi-Hun was the last person recruited, so it meant his temporary Grindr adventure fucked Gi-Hun.

His jealousy made his libido disappear, and he took the position to advocate for everyone, "How dare you kidnap us, etc."

Then he saw why The Recruiter insisted on playing Ddakji outside, as the clip of him getting slapped was displayed. Embarrassed, betrayed, and angry, knowing he couldn't sue because the contract said that the intimacy had to be behind closed doors for the discretion to be valid.

He would get back to Gi-Hun later, claiming him in the bathroom before the votes to "wash away" other men touching him. Even though it was the same man he fucked for three weeks, but Gi-Hun didn't need to know that.

And if you are wondering, the Salesman saved all the receipts of the money he spent on Sang-Woo to be reimbursed. He got congratulated for his work, giving him a generous amount of money, a raise, and some dog treats

[nightingalescall]

“Under the sunlight, his long blonde hair seemed glossy, shiny even as it draped over his shoulders while he towered over you.” That simple sentence changed my brain, and you have no idea. My weakness has always been men with long hair, silky and shiny hair, for most of man, hair is their makeup. Maybe that was what connected me so directly to Zephyr from the beginning, i projected onto him all my preferences in a yandere man ( Long hair, beautiful eyes, extreme loyalty and the urge to always control himself because he knows very well what he is capable of).

The desire to possess, but having to tie ropes to your own hands for fear of yourself is delicious to think about. But leaving that aside, Zhepyr must take great care of his hair of course, but what does it smell like? Is it sweet? He passes on some kind of product, like a saint he has enough money for whatever that world has to offer of hair products. Affectionately letting his hair slide through my fingers, or make an elaborate braid… Ah, what a dream!

┌⁠|⁠o⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠o⁠|⁠┘⁠♪

Literally, same. I have a thing with 2D men having long hair. I don't know why either. They just look so....majestic.

Anyway, have a short story as my response to these questions.

*Can be read regardless of whether or not you're up to date with the main story. Though it is recommended to have at least read the prologue.

"Hah....tired." you sighed and plopped down onto the chair. "Hot too..." You mumbled as you lifted up your veil, allowing yourself a breather.

It was a sunny afternoon and the breeze was pretty much nonexistent. Besides from the windows, there was no other way to ventilate the air within the temple. It felt like a sauna in there.

You had just finished a meeting at the palace regarding some recent economic issues in the kingdom and discussing how to improve certain sectors and increase gross national income. It took all morning before the meeting finally concluded. After such a mentally gruelling session, all you wanted to do was to relax in your room and maybe have some afternoon tea.

But the weather just had to mess with you.

The moment you opened the main door to the temple, you were immediately hit in the face with a gush of hot air. You shut the door and turned back.

Nope. We are NOT doing that.

You rerouted and headed for the garden instead.

There, you found a small gazebo admist the tall aurum trees and other luscious greenery. The decision to make that your resting place for the afternoon was instantaneous.

You stretched in your seat, hearing your bones pop satisfyingly before resting your head on your arms on the table in front of you. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, the earthy scent of the garden penetrating your nostrils.

And a moment of peaceful silence.

...

"Lady (y/n)? You're back." You opened your eyes as Zephyr approached. He took the seat beside you. "Why are you out here?" A hint of amusement in his voice as he looked into your tired eyes and smiled.

"It's way too hot in the temple." You mumbled, watching as Zephyr reached for your veil when it fell back down over your face in the middle of your sentence. He lifted it up and placed it behind your head. "Is that so?" He mumbled absentmindedly as he imitated you, resting his head on his arms and facing you.

Your elbows touched from the closeness.

Neither of you said anything afterwards. Simply basking in the silence and enjoying each other's presence. Zephyr closed his eyes gently as he rested.

He seemed happy.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you couldn't help but stared a bit. His hair was down today which was kinda surprising, considering how hot it was. You expected him to put it up to help beat the heat. That's what you would have done anyway.

His blond strands laid sprawled out on his back and over his shoulders. Some even on the table. Even in this hot weather, his hair looked ever so perfect. Smooth and silky. Not a strand of messy hair in sight.

"..."

You reached for a lock that rested over his shoulders. Grabbing it, you slide your hand down the lock, right until the tip. The hair soft against your palm.

Zephyr's eyes snapped open as he felt the light tug on his hair. He lifted his head from his arms and his eyes went wide. His gaze flickered from your hand grasping his hair to your face before back again.

The thought only occuring to you that you may be overstepping your boundaries a bit when you saw the look of surprise that painted itself over Zephyr's face. You retracted your hand, feeling embarrassment wash over you.

You didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. It was a learnt habit. Often times, Zephyr would play with your hair. Now given, you've never objected to it so he's free to touch it whenever he likes but that doesn't apply to him. You never asked if he minded.

"Sor-"

Before you could even mutter an apology, Zephyr's hand shot towards your wrist, grabbing it firmly.

!

You jumped in your seat at the suddenness of his action.

You felt his grip tighten around your wrist before slowly, he guided your hand back towards him, placing your palm against his cheek. His hand went up to the back of yours as he leaned into your touch.

"Touch me however you want."

What

You were left speechless by his words, the gears in your mind turning, trying to process and dissect its meaning. Silence and anticipation hung between you two as you stared at each other. Your gaze, confused and bewildered, his, firm and determined.

Does that mean he doesn't mind....?

"..."

Carefully, you tangled your fingers into his hair. Zephyr, sensing that you weren't going to pull away, let go of your hand and allowed you to run your fingers through his locks.

You ran your fingers through his hair without encountering any knots.

...I want hair like this.

You looked down at the strand in your hand, feeling envious of its smoothness. Gently rubbing it between your thumb and index finger, you pondered about just how Zephyr keeps his hair like this.

In the midst of your thinking, your hands began instinctively braiding the strand. As the silence between you went on and you worked on the braid, Zephyr scooted closer. He placed a hand on your thigh as he towered over you, gazing at you quietly while observing you work with his hair.

You worked fast, twisting the hair here and there until a simple and neat braid came into be. You held onto the end of the braid, having no tie to secure it, you could only maintain the style by holding on.

You admired it a little more, looking up at his face as you took note of how well it suited him. You let go of the strand and the hair untwisted and lossened.

"..."

I should brings some ties and hairbands next time I get the chance to play with his hair.

You considered the different hairstyles you could try on him.

Hmm...maybe there was one you could quickly try right now.

You reached up both your hands to his hair, one grasping the hair on the left of his head and the other on the right. Then, using your hands as a stand-in for hairbands...

You made two low pigtails.

"Pfft." You couldn't help but let out a stifled laugh at the sight. You let go of his hair.

Yeah, maybe not that one.

"Sorry." You said, covering your mouth with your hand and keeping your head low, trying to hide the smile on your face.

Just then, you felt Zephyr pull you into him, causing you to crash into his chest.

"Woah!"

You pressed your hands against his body as you pushed yourself up, finding back your balance. Zephyr wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he pressed his cheek on the top of your head. A pleasant scent wafted from his hair and into your nose.

It smelled lemony and refreshing with a hint of sweetness to it. Peach, perhaps? Peach lemonade?

"Zephyr?"

You raised an eyebrow at his behaviour. You lifted your head up and you locked eyes with him.

Zephyr's smile was soft and tender. The corners of his eyes lifted alongside his smile as he looked at you. In his eyes, you saw thousand of emotions swirl about. Emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. All you knew was that his gaze was warm (and no, you weren't saying that because it was a hot day.)

His hand went from behind your back to your face, cupping your cheek as you continued to look at him with your puzzled expression.

He sighed blissfully.

"I'm so happy God gave you to me."

~✟~

And scene! That was fun to write! It can be kinda stressful for me to write such a lore heavy story since there's a lot to keep track of and for the Messiah to deal with so much drama I'm making happen in Ebreau so it was a good break for both of us! Just a nice, light-hearted afternoon with a certain saint., don't you agree? You want more of these kind of quality time together with me Zephyr, right, Messiah?

N̴̢̢͑͘͠e̸͎͚͇̓͐̚v̵̙̒̿͌͜e̵̠͚̽̓̈́r̸͙̦̟͒̐͘ s̸̢̝͖͌̈́͆t̸͔͕̙̓͌͌o̸͉͓̽͒͒p̴͓̦͖̓̓͝ t̵̘͚͙͋̓a̴̢̟͖̽̓͝l̵̙͖̪͊͐͒k̸͍͎͛̔̐͜ḯ̵̡͓͉͛̕n̸͚͙͚̔̈́̽g̴͉̝͍̿͛̿ t̵͓̻͎͛̒̕o̸̟͕͎̓̀̕ m̵̫̙̦̿̕e̸̙̻͔͊̾Thanks for reading! <3

[the-ancient-forlorn]

Common myths in system/plural spaces...

These are some common myths to look out for that can mess with your recovery (if you have DID or OSDD). I will also be going into why these things are wrong and dangerous as I believe it is vital to go against commonplace narratives.

One

EMDR is the best form of care for trauma in DID/OSDD patients.

Though it is important to mention there are, in fact, forms of EMDR done specifically to be safe for dissociative patients, this will not be the default. It is vital to be careful when vetting possible clinicians and ask if they specifically know how to use the dissociation-informed method. EMDR can be dangerous when it comes to dissociation, as it can exacerbate symptoms of dissociation. EMDR in its base form is something that is not to be practiced with anyone who has any form of dissociation, let alone a complex dissociative disorder, such as OSDD-1 and DID.

According to Doctor Jamie Marich

Are there any cautionary measures you would like to mention regarding the use of EMDR therapy with clients who have a dissociative disorder? Definitely—for EMDR therapy to be successfully used with dissociative disorders, modifications will need to be made based on the unique needs of the dissociative system presenting for care. This is another one of those questions where I cannot give you an easy answer because if you’ve met one dissociative system, you’ve met only one dissociative system. If you are stuck, get consultation. Consultation is even more valuable than training when first learning to work with EMDR and dissociative disorders because a skilled consultant can walk you through the intricacies of a specific person/system’s case.

If you plan to make a legal case against your abuser(s) and you live in America, do not get EMDR until the legal case has concluded with a guilty or innocent verdict for your abuser(s). Your testimony will not be legally eligible in court after you undergo this therapy.

It is an amazing therapy and helps people heal a lot. I plan to undergo it with specialized professionals after my own case finishes. EMDR is not evil or bad. It is just something that uses specific methods to alleviate distress that can play into dissociation further if a clinician is not properly trained.

Two

You're not responsible for your alters.

Obviously this one isn't true. No matter what you share the same body. Therefore you're responsible for all your systems actions at all times. The physical body you have is the being that is responsible and going to be held responsible. That is the key to system accountability. (Cough *certain someone in my life* Cough)

Three

You need to have an inner world to be a system.

Nope not at all. Inner worlds as it pertains to DID and OSDD are not usually naturally there. This is often something you construct in therapy as a form of meditation. It is a way to envision and further connect to parts of your brain, selves, or however you view plurality philosophically. It is an active exercise of the mind. It took me a while to build one up myself, and it was certainly worth it in the end. You are not wrong for not having one or struggling to make one. Some people just can't manage to do it. Those with aphantasia, especially, may struggle.

It is possible to make one without putting in an active effort, usually as a coping mechanism, just in your day-to-day life. But innerworlds are not a required symptom nor fully unique to DID and OSDD.

Four

Your alters must have roles!

Roles are just labels to describe common traits found within alters/headmates. There's no need for them and whether or not you have an alter that fits every archetype doesn't change anything. It's simply a way for people to understand themselves and their alters.

Five

It's dangerous to use roles.

Just as wrong as the last one. It's not dangerous to use labels. It can be counterproductive for some individuals but it is not a thing that causes harm.

Six

You must never differentiate yourself and your alters to be healthy.

Once again, not true in the slightest. In my case my therapist actively required that I try and differentiate my alters further. That I understand who "I" am as an alter. If "I" know who "I" am and how "I" function then it is easier to figure out what kinds of trauma I hold if any and what issues can be focused on with me and better worked through. The differentiation between "me" and say Lexus, another alter, is vast. But we are still Dusk, which is me. Hopefully that's understandable.

Seven

You must go for unification!/You must go for integration!

Unification (aka Final Fusion) and integration (aka lowering barriers between alters, resulting in either Functional Multiplicity or Unification) are both valid end goals. Unification goes further than general integration, as integration alone does not indicate that all alters have fused together. It just indicates the lack of dissociative and amnesic barriers. Differing senses of self, gender, personality, behavior, likes, dislikes, and similar are still present in alters who are integrated to only what is seen as Functional Multiplicity. Unification does not have alters at all and has gone from a mass to a single person, so to speak. Do not let people fear-monger you out of Unification; it is very fulfilling for those who want it. And do not let people fear-monger you out of integration; it is very fulfilling for people who want it too.

Eight

X or Y term is ONLY for a specific diagnosis.

Sorry but none of the community terms are from something like a closed practice they're all from English. Don't get angry if an Endo calls themselves a system. They're a system of self perceived identities. That's still a system. System is a very general term. I have a system for butchering meat at work. It's not stealing the term. We will survive. You will survive. Same goes for any other term. If you don't like it just block it and move on.

Subsystems and side systems are similar just explained differently nobody owns those terms it doesn't matter what kind of trauma you have.

Nine

You must have been severely abused to develop DID/OSDD.

Yes in some cases severe abuse causes these disorders but less severe abuse can cause it too.

It can be caused by a variety of things: incest, CSA, physical abuse, child endangerment, witnessing violence, war, massive natural disasters, adverse childhood experiences, fighting parents

As long as bad things that can stress a child out happens enough and they have the genetics for a predisposition to dissociation they will have a chance of developing it.

Ten

X or Y can't happen in the inner world!

Once again the inner world is essentially something you meditate on or in more plain terms imagine to an extent. Anything can happen in an inner world it's literally your own head. SA happens in some parts of our inner world, some alters are seen as literal angels and have supernatural powers in our inner world. Of course murder would be possible in your own mind. People say they've killed a version of themselves all the time and when you manifest every aspect of yourself in a vivid imagination as a therapeutic tool- you can imagine some fucked up stuff. Especially for traumatized systems. It may not be literally real but it is very much a manifestation of your mind and what occurs in your inner world can be a great insight for your therapist in understanding how you function and what you've internalized.

Eleven

Dormancy is always bad.

Not at all. Dormancy can happen for a variety of reasons. Sometimes bad things can trigger it but other times it's just natural. After getting away from the abuse I endured in the second cult I was in many alters have gone dormant or semi-dormant. They aren't needed anymore and simply aren't willing or possibly able to hang around in the back of our mind. They'll be dug up when the time comes and we go back to processing our childhood trauma after we fully process what happened in the cult we were in during college. Dormancy is a neutral thing. It's like going to sleep for a long period of time, being put on hold perhaps.

Twelve

Fusion is scary and bad.

Fusion can be beautiful. We have many wonderful experiences, some bittersweet, and some horrific. It all depends on how and why it's done. We were more scared of this before we made as much progress, now we've undergone massive amounts of fusion as we've finally moved to having stability in our life. These fusions have been natural, ones that simply happen because alters have chosen to, and therapy has already lowered barriers between alters in the same subsystem. In our case, our eventual goal is to fuse down every subsystem to one alter unless an alter disagrees with it. Our side systems don't necessarily need to fuse their subsystems.

Those that have fused naturally have been happy. And though the old ones may in a sense no longer exist the new can be seen as their children. A continuation of their being. You aren't losing, you're gaining a new part of yourself more than anything. Though I suppose some fusions have been more absorptions than a merging of alters in some cases for us even those have been peaceful.

Thirteen

You should force fusions.

Absolutely not. Forcing these things will only lead to more distress. It needs to happen in a healthy way with alters who are ready for it or it will be distressing. Forcing fusions of any kind let alone unification is harmful and damaging. Let things happen as you heal. That's the best way to go about it.

Fourteen

Looking into your trauma and unpacking what happened to you will possibly kill you if you were trafficked or in a cult.

This is obviously an unreasonable thing to say from anyone. Though conditioning is real and one's personality may be impacted and morphed by an abuser, especially when they are a child who grows up in a severely abusive environment, it does not work in the way people claim. It is preferable that you have a therapist to dig into trauma and start writing down things as you remember them, but it will not kill you if you don't. A therapist will help you with coping. A therapist cannot make your pain fully go away, but from my experience, they're an incredibly helpful resource.

[freckles-a-constellation]

The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.

So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.

Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.

And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.

And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.

Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.

Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?

The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.