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k-pepp · 1 year ago

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With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:

Or August:

Or Boris:

(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.

Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.

Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles

the photo ops

the schmoozing with people

Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.

We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.

He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.

That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.

Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.

Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of. The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.

Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.

I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.

#I’m sure all of this will be useless when S3 comes out #Since Wille is only 16 it’s pretty useless now 😅#But I’m happy to finally have these S1 and S2 thoughts out of my head #young royals #pro (eventual) abdication

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in1-nutshell · 1 year ago

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Hello! I am SOO sorry that I have been cramping you with asks, so feel as free as you can be to push this one alll the way back, or deny it, I am not desperate at all. I just want to type this before I forget this. So after the Megatron with a daughter who was his opposite post, I, too, am in love with this opposite personality daughter series. Like just all of our favourite men as fathers of daughters with individual personalities of themselves but also more or less all resonated their fathers one way or another, or someone they knew! I LOVE IT! And I realized how this formed a perfect trilogy now.

So I am real curious. What if the three daughters exist in the same universe? And, may or may not interact? (would we need individual names for them all? Or Buddy 1 and 2 and 3 like Spider-Man: No Way Home and no one questions it?)

Hello!

I've actually been thinking about continuing the 'daughter with different personality' thing. Maybe in the future you'll see more!

Originally the plan was to have all the Buddy's to be in the same universe, but I ended up scrapping the idea and decided to create separate universes for each one (unless the plot tells me otherwise :))

When I saw the Spiderman part my mind went to this.

(Who knows for the future)

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Megatron's daughters meeting each other for the first time.

SFW, Platonic, Familial, groundbridge and relic shenanigans, Cybertronain reader

TFP

In TFP Rats universe.

Buddy was just minding her own business cleaning and wiping down her father’s tools.

It’s a nice day on base.

There was low Decepticon activity for the past few days, the children were playing their games, Bulkhead and Smokescreen were trying to get Bumblebee and Arcee to play Lob with them, Ultra Magnus and Optimus were reviewing plans for something, and her father, Ratchet, was with Wheeljack looking at a new relic they found in the Artic.

“It’s not another scraplet trap, right?”--Raf

“Nope! Completely checked it with the scanner. We should be good now.”--Buddy

“We ‘should’ be good?”--Bulkhead

“There is always a percentage of things blowing up, I’m not counting that out.”--Buddy

Without warning, the relic whirled to life jumping and shaking onto the floor.

Everyone jumped and backed away from the whirling sound it made. Bright light came out of it as the shaking intensified. The noise was loud enough to get everyone to come to the main room.

The machine scanned the closest bot, Buddy, and opened a portal, shooting out tons of air.

The children nearly flew back, but thanks to Ultra Magnus and Optimus, they were caught before they flew off the ledge.

“Hey Ratchet! What’s it doing?!”--Bulkhead

“Oh, it’s putting on a rock concert. OBVIOUSLY, I DON’T KNOW!”--Ratchet

Machine whirls louder.

“Buddy! Hide behind the med slab!”--Wheeljack

Buddy already behind the slab, clutching onto dear life.

“With all due respect, WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING?!”--Buddy

Meanwhile in megs dimension

Buddy calmly walking down the halls of the Nemesis with some data pads.

“Hmm… wonder why they need so many data pads…”--Buddy

Sudden portal pops up on the wall next to them.

“What in the—”--Buddy

Portal starts sucking her in.

“AHHH—”--Buddy

Portal sucks Buddy in leaving the discarded data pads sprawled in the middle of the hallway.

In op dimension

Buddy is resting her arm on the handrail while talking with Miko.

“How’s the playlist going?”--Miko

“Haven’t been working too much on it. Patrol has been up my tailpipe lately. Do you have any more recommendations?”--Buddy

“Yeah! How about—”—Miko

A sudden portal opens.

“Umm, I don’t remember Ratchet opening up a groundbridge.”--Miko

Buddy grabbing a grenade from her subspace.

“That’s because he hasn’t!”--Buddy

Buddy chucks a grenade at the portal.

BAM!

Nothing happens to the portal.

“What!”—Miko and Buddy

The portal starts sucking them in.

Buddy grabs Miko as she starts to get dragged in, pounds a hole in the ledge and places her in there.

“Buddy? Buddy what are you—”--Miko

Buddy groans as she tries to keep her footing but gets sucked in and the portal closes.

“BUDDY!”--Miko

In Rats dimension

Two figures pop out of the portal and slam into Ratchet’s daughter.

The portal closes.

The two figures groaned.

Op Buddy sits up rubbing her helm.

Meg Buddy sliding off the med slab and onto the floor on her back.

“Urgh… my aching helm…”—Megs Buddy

Rat Buddy gently massaging her helm before looking at the two strangers.

“Who are you?”—Rat Buddy

Op Buddy looks at the others.

“Who are you?!”—Op Buddy

Meg Buddy looking at all the Autobots in the area.

“WHERE AM I?!”—Meg Buddy

Optimus carefully approaches the younglings.

Megs Buddy quickly moves back while the other two just stare widely.

“Buddy—”--Optimus

“Yes?”—All Buddy’s

All Buddy’s turn around and point at each other.

“Your name is Buddy! I’m Buddy!”—All Buddy’s

Meg Buddy standing up pacing a bit.

“Maybe this is some alternate universe…I always thought something like this was possible from what he said… It’s the only logical explanation for this…”—Megs Buddy

“That seems to check out. Which explains why Dad hasn’t started giving me the ��speech’ again.”—Op Buddy

“Dad?”--Kids

“… Oh, this is going to be fun.”—Op Buddy

“This is not going to be fun…”—Meg Buddy

Everyone is confused.

Come to find the relic would scan someone and find ‘alternatives’ of them. It could mean alternative of the bot or by their names.

To avoid confusion the Buddy’s are labeled.

Op’s Buddy would be known as Buddy 1.

Rats Buddy would be known as Buddy 2.

Megs Buddy would be known as Buddy 3.

“How come she’s Buddy 1? Why not our Buddy? She was hear before you guys showed up.”--Miko

“Cause I’m older and cooler.”—Buddy 1

“Yeah right.”--Miko

“Don’t believe me Miko? Watch this.”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 transforms into a monster truck.

“I take it back! That’s so cool! Can I ride you!?”--Miko

“Of course!”—Buddy 1

“Miko no!”--Bulkhead

“Miko yes!”--Miko

“Then why is our Buddy number two?”--Raf

“Because I’m the second oldest. Three is the youngest one here.”—Buddy 2

“Guess it makes sense. You she is kind a smaller than you two.”--Jack

“Hey! I’m a minicon! Of course, I’m smaller than everyone here!”—Buddy 3

“You’re a minicon?”--Arcee

Buddy 3 shrinks back a bit at Arcee’s gaze nodding.

Buddy 1 made the Team guess who her father was, bets were on the table and ready to be thrown. Buddy 1 managed to get Buddy 3 to get in on the guessing part. Buddy 3 guaranteed that no one would guess her creator.

A part of her didn’t want them to know either.

“All right we are ready.”--Miko

“Wow so soon?”—Buddy 3

“Too soon if you asked me.”—Buddy 1

“We’ve narrowed down three bots for each. If we win, 1 needs to take me out dune bashing in her alt mode.”--Miko

“Miko!”--Bulkhead

“I can stand by that.”—Buddy 1

“And if you don’t guess right?”—Buddy 2

“You’ll have to tell us.”--Miko

“…”—Buddy 3

“Lets get started!”--Miko

“Okay these ones are for Buddy 1.”--Smokescreen

“Got it, lets hear them.”—Buddy 1

“First one… Wheeljack!”--Miko

Buddy 1 laughing at the response.

“HAHAHAHA, Sorry, its just, just that Jackie here is more like my Uncle. Definitely not my dad.”—Buddy 1

“All righty then… Bulkhead!”--Miko

Buddy starts laughing at that one too.

“Nope! Bulks also like my Uncle!”—Buddy 1

“The last one… Smokescreen!”—Miko

Buddy is now on the floor laughing her tanks and near crying.

“…I’ll take that as a no then…”--Raf

Buddy finally stops laughing.

“You lose.”—Buddy 1

“Got that. Now spill it! Who’s your Dad?!”--Miko

Buddy stands up rather stoically.

“One shall stand, one shall fall.”—Buddy 1

Everyone stares at Optimus, who looks equally as surprised.

“Your—your Boss Bots kid!? How!?”--Miko

“A question everyone has been asking since we met.”—Buddy 1

Miko turns to Buddy 3.

She hoped that they would have forgotten her, but alas here she was.

“Your turn!”--Miko

Buddy 3 nervously sits next to Prime and Ratchet

“First one… Arcee!”--Miko

Buddy 3 looking terrified.

“NO! I mean no.”--Buddy 3

“How about… Ultra Magnus!”--Miko

Buddy shakes her helm while looking at Magnus.

“Sorry try again.”—Buddy 3

“Okay… Optimus!”--Miko

Buddy 1 looks at Buddy 3.

“Are we siblings!?”—Buddy 1

“I mean aren’t we all in a way?”—Buddy 3

“Buddy.”--Ratchet

“Sorry, the answer is no.”—Buddy 3

“Dang it!”--Miko

“Then who is your Dad?”--Raf

“…Megatron…”—Buddy 3

“…”—Everyone

“HOW!”--Jack

Buddy shrinks back at the sudden movements.

Buddy 1 and Buddy 2 immediately stand by Buddy 3

“Hold it now. Just because 3 dad is Bucket head, no offense.”—Buddy 1

“None taken.”—Buddy 3

“Doesn’t mean she’s bad. Right?”—Buddy 2

“No, no I’m not.”—Buddy 3

“Really and how can you prove it?”--Arcee

“Arcee—”—Buddy 2

“Well think about this. If I was truly bad, why haven’t I hurt you.”—Buddy 3

“Because your short?”--Smokescreen

“… Okay that one’s asking for it… but beside the point, I could have easily hurt the kids, yet I haven’t. I could have attacked or given any other hint that I had malicious intentions. But I haven’t, have I?”—Buddy 3

Pause

“I stand by 3.”—Buddy 1

“And I stand with 1 and 3.”—Buddy 2

“I will stand by her as well.”--Optimus

“Prime!”—Most of the team

“Prime?”—Buddy 3

“She is our guest and so is 1. We must treat them with the respect they deserve.”--Optimus

“…Thank you Prime.”—Buddy 3

After the confrontation a little more research is done on the machine.

Thanks to Buddy 3’s expert decoding skills, she was able to read the full effects of the machine as well as how to reverse it.

The good news was that the effects were reversable.

The bad news was that the machine needed time to recuperate before usage again.

The Buddy’s decided to kill time by hanging out with each other and the team in the meantime.

Aka shenanigan time.

1 tries to start a conversation with her alternate family especially with Prime.

She is curious to see if there are any differences between her father and her alternative father.

“You always did have a thing for the Halls, didn’t you?”—Buddy 1

“The Halls of Iacon was where I worked.”--Optimus

“You mean, where Orion worked.”—Buddy 1

“…Yes.”--Optimus

“Sorry, but I see Orion and Optimus as two separate bots sometimes.”—Buddy 1

“It is understandable.”--Optimus

3 tended to stay with 2 for the most part.

2 was a soft soul and was quiet for the most part.

2 did entertain 3 with the occasional story here and there.

Buddy 2 and 3 talking to each other near the med bay.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”--Smokescreen

“Beep boop bep bop boop. (Probably about medical stuff.)”--Bumblebee

“Yeah, probably.”--Smokescreen

“So, then Arcee raised her blasters at the wannabe Cybertronians and started blasting.”—Buddy 2

Buddy 3 listening intently.

1 likes to place 2 and 3 on her shoulders.

1 being the tallest and bulkiest of the Buddy’s could support the weight, not that they did weigh anything to her.

The other two Buddy’s liked feeling tall.

“Hey! Hey! Look at this!”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 supporting Buddy 2 on her shoulders while Buddy 3 was on top.

“We are Buddy Supreme!”—Buddy 2

Buddy 1 has a bright smile on her face.

Buddy 2 has a wobbly smile trying not to laugh while carrying 3.

Buddy 3 is just staring in amazement.

“So, this is what it’s like to be tall… this is nice.”—Buddy 3

Soon it was time for them to leave.

3 really doesn’t want to leave her new friends behind.

She certainly doesn’t want to go back to the dark halls of the Nemesis.

But this pleasant experience was soon to be the spark to ignite the flame for peace between the two fractions again.

She was going to do everything she could to end this war with peace.

Whether Megatron liked it or not.

“It was lovely seeing you all and knowing there are alternative versions of myself out there. I hope we meet again on much pleasanter terms in the future.”—Buddy 3

“Same goes to you 3!”—Buddy 1 and 2

Buddy 3 walks through the portal.

A flash of purple shines before returning to its natural color.

“It’s your turn kid—”--Wheeljack

“SEE YA!”—Buddy 1

Buddy 1 back flips into the portal before a flash of blue shines.

The portal turns off and all is still.

“…Well, wasn’t that an eventful Wednesday afternoon?”—Buddy

In megs universe

Buddy bounces off the wall of the Nemesis.

Literally.

“For once I’d wish for a smooth landing…”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Soundwave

Buddy looks up to see Soundwave.

Buddy waves.

“Hey Soundwave.”--Buddy

Soundwave starts walking forward.

“Sorry about the data pads—”--Buddy

Soundwave is in front of Buddy.

“I swear I meant to go straight to the room when—”--Buddy

Soundwave gets down on his knees and pulls Buddy in a tight hug.

Buddy freezes for a moment before hugging back.

None say anything, just holding onto each other in one of the empty halls of the Nemesis.

In op universe

Buddy gets thrown at Bumblebee and Smokescreen.

“OW!”--Buddy

“BEEP! (BUDDY!)”--Bumblebee

“BUDDY!”--Smokescreen

Both bots hugging Buddy’s sides tightly.

“We heard from Miko that you go sucked into some groundbridge or something!”--Smokescreen

Buddy patting both bots helms.

Bumblebee digs his helm further in Buddy’s neck cables whirling in concern and relief.

“Boy, do I have a story to tell you guys. But let’s wait till everyone gets here, I can’t wait to see Doc bot’s reaction to his daughter.”--Buddy

“HIS WHAT!?”—Smokescreen and Bumblebee

“MY WHAT!”--Ratchet

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #tfp megatron #bot buddy crossover

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kataraavatara · 1 year ago

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“the black trailer was so boring 🥱 🥱 😴 imagine supporting the “right people” 🤣😂 LAME 🤪 at least my green children are serving dysfunctional CUNT 😊😘 aegon is in his 🫣😱😉messy era 🤭” hey op? you’re now legally obligated to scroll through your blog and delete any and every post bashing daemon for ANYTHING, the ones where you criticize rhaenyra for having “bastards” and the ones where you’re acting morally outraged over “sharply questioned.” If you open your mouth about any of these topics in the future you will be put in a saw trap. Good luck.

#are we “rooting for our favorite war criminals 🤪” or are we crying everytime rhaenyra looks at alicent the wrong way #pro team black #team black #anti team green #anti team green stans

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ceasarslegion · 3 months ago

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I am asking about the dog burying drama please please please

Ive awoken so I can tell this story now

It was over a year ago now, but I remember it so much

Do you remember the post that was a series of very obviously reversed gifs of people getting a trapped dog out of the ground, so they looked like the dog was burying it, and the op was claiming that it was joe bidens campaign staff who buried it? I reblogged it in late 2023 with "LEGENDARY POST" as my tags and went back to my regularly scheduled opinionposting and memes

Someone in my ask box did not like this very much

I got a... weird ask. Initially I thought it was just poorly worded. Essentially this person was asking me to tag it with "tw animal abuse" and getting upset with me for reblogging something that could, in their words, "cause panic attacks."

This rubbed me the wrong way because like, it's. It's a meme. Also the dirt was flying into their hands, it was very obviously fake. I've also never done trigger tags or content warnings on my blog out of personal choice. But I gave them the benefit of the doubt at first and answered with "...no. I have never done content warnings on this blog and I am not going to do it for memes because I have thousands of followers and if I had to tag everyone's triggers it would be impossible to just have fun on my own blog. So if that's something you can't handle, it's in your best interest to unfollow me"

I thought that would be the end of it

That was not the end of it

They got really fucking mad at me and started going off in my replies saying that I was personally responsible for their panic attack for not tagging the joe biden dog burying meme post before they saw it, that I was apparently saying that I didn't care about them or anybody else with triggers' wellbeings, and that by refusing to trigger tag the dog burying post I was being ableist against them

At this point myself and a ton of people told them to fuck off, including a bunch of folks in the replies saying that they also have animal abuse triggers and the joe biden dog burying post is an absolutely ridiculous thing to get this upset about, and defended me saying that it's still my right not to put CWs on my personal private blog if i dont want to, and by being transparent about how I wouldn't I WAS being fair to them and others with similar triggers

This person then ran off to their blog and told everyone how I was a big meanie bad person for "blowing up at them and refusing a simple accessibility request" and claimed that I had personally sicced all my followers on them in a smear campaign against them. My brother in christ you acted like that in a public forum

Also, we thought this person had to be 14. Like we thought they had to be. After I was told by a follower they were throwing a fit about me on their own blog I went to look at got flashbanged with the "32" in their bio

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sometimes-men-need-help-too · 2 years ago

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So this guy posted about how his wife "baby trapped" him, with baby trapped in quotes because he didn't know if it necessarily counted. He said she didn't do it to make him stay, just against his will

They've been together for 8 years, have 2 (5f and 2m) kids and when they talked about having kids, she wanted 2 but he wanted 1. They ended up having 2 because she insisted it was important for a child to have a sibling. After his son was born, OP didn't want to go through all the sleepiness nights and everything again. But when their son was a year old, his wife started mentioning having a 3rd child. I would laugh it off but finally she sat me down and said we have to have a third. I said no, we agreed on two, but she said she wanted four and three is the compromise. I refused and said I wanted one and we have two. She got angry and called me selfish for taking away her dream of wanting a big family.

Few days later, she apologized and they had sex. She was on birth control, he had a condom, so they did it. Then one day, she showed him the positive pregnancy test. When she saw his less than happy expression, she berated him for not being supportive, that he should be grateful, etc. So he apologized, hugged her and told her he was excited.

When she was asleep, I took the condoms out of the cupboard and ran them under water. Holes.

I nabbed her phone and saw she'd set a password. That was odd. Nevertheless, my wife has a terrible memory so I tried her birthday and it opened. Further up were texts with her best friend of my wife complaining how I wouldn't come around. Her best friend suggested "arrange an accident" with a winky face. My wife agreed and said she was going to come off of birth control. It went on for a little while, ending with my wife saying that yes, we were going to have a 3rd.

So he woke her up after that to question her about it. She started crying. Through tears she screamed I had no right to go through her phone and it's her choice whether or not she wants to take BC, the side-effects are bad and she was sick. She also brought up if I really didn't want a third kid, I should have had a vasectomy. She told me to go sleep on the couch, I laughed out loud and said no, I'm sleeping here, you're leaving. So while wailing she packed a bag and left to her parents. When she called the next day I told her I just need some time to myself. She said that's fine but I need to come around for our child. I told her I wasn't sure if it'd be "our child" and she cried more.

It's been two weeks since then. Governments recommended to stay at home and I knew staying home by myself while also working with two kids would not be ideal and she wanted to see our kids. So we're in the same house, she constantly keeps on stopping me and trying to get me excited for our kid and planning the nursery and names and how happy our kids will be to get a younger sibling. I've been ignoring her entirely.

A lot of the comments were in his favor so I was happy to see that. But there were also plenty of other comments that weren't as supportive, even downplaying the wife's actions.

There were a number of people who were against him divorcing her, questioning him why he wants to ruin his marriage and his family over this. I just can't get over that, how they're acting like he's in the wrong here. Would you want to stay with someone who crossed the line severely? Would you want to stay with someone you couldn't trust?

She ruined the marriage on her own. He's reacting how anyone can expect someone to react in that kind of situation. A lot of people were insisting he try to fix his marriage and stay for the kids so he doesn't break up the family but that is, in this case, the worst advice someone can give. I'm not sure there's any coming back from this. How could you trust someone like that again? How do you know she wouldn't do it again in the long run because she'd want a 4th baby?

Not to mention, it's a horrible thing to put the kids through. They're already, according to him in a comment, wondering why he isn't talking to their mother (sidenote: some people expressed disbelief that the kids would notice at that age. I haven't spent much time with super little kids like a 2 year old but 5 year old's can be surprisingly observant. Or the wife might have said something to them). If he were to stay and things worsen, like them fighting more often, that just hurts the kids. And it's not a good lesson for them when they get older. There are limits to keeping a relationship with someone.

And of course, his own mental health and happiness are important too.

What bothers me is the justifications people are pulling out in defense of his wife. They are severely downplaying her actions by saying she just wanted a baby, people aren't perfect, etc. Somebody even compared the situation to...rearranging a room.

And then you have others blaming him because he hasn't had a vasectomy yet. That isn't the point of this. If the wife hadn't done anything and he was complaining that she got pregnant, then I would find him more at fault. But what the wife has done is considered reproductive coercion, which is a form of intimate partner violence.

Sure there was a bit of a chance of pregnancy occurring, but she crossed the line in order to get what she wanted. She is at fault here for the pregnancy. And she should be held accountable for that. I've found conflicting information about whether she could face legal consequences, but at the very least we shouldn't be trying to make excuses for her or downplay it to make it sound like it's something innocent.

Because it definitely isn't

#mens rights #double standards #relationships

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ego-meliorem-esse · 1 year ago

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I do love your takes because they mirror mine in a way, I am curious about your take on François relationship with Ludwig and partly with Antonio too. Alasdair is a free soul like him, there's not much to say about it there I think. Baby brother stole everything even the french menace and it bothers him but won't stop him. I do wonder about your take on Alfred's own relationship with Ludwig and the italian brothers. I hc he and the south get along really well but he clashes with North Italy bc he doesn't understand why Italy hides behind his airheadness. I know I'm in anon, sorry but I have many things on my mind and don't want to develop my own op right now bc it will take time to write it down

Ohh yess

Ok just a heads up, this is an expansion on the previous François post:

Ludwig and François have an interesting dynamic. At first glance it might seem like they are polar opposites in almost every aspect. And who knows that might be true, but there is an appeal to me of the sad depressed and drinking-wine-in-bathtub-at-3-am François calling up Ludwig just to chat and get reassurance that it'll be fine. Ludwig is young. He feels like he needs to prove himself on this old world continent. He feels the need to work more just to get to where the rest are. And as an economic powerhouse, he feels somewhat responsible for keeping the peace. Though, despite that, he is kind. And in the recent years (cough cough after Brexit cough cough gurgle fall over die) he and François have gotten close. As close as the ghosts of the past will allow, at least. So, if there is anyone willing to talk to, and even come over and make sure the Frenchman is not drowning in the bathtub or the wine, it's the german lad. Even if he's just sitting on the toilet, laptop on lap, doing work and listening to François' rants. It's the kinda dynamic François can relax in. He doesn't enjoy Ludwigs quiet company always, but it's a nice break from bickering with Arthur and debating with Alfred.

Antonio is a different story. They are very similar in their worldviews and mindsets. Two past empires grown up under Rome (more or less) and getting dunked on by the rat man extraordinaire and his big fat rat baby. If François is going to do dumb shit and get plastered in the town center, he's doing it with Antonio. Gil is also included. They are not the type of friends to talk about their feelings and go emotional on each other. But, naturally there is mutual respect and understanding. "The world has changed and its pace is too fast for us now."

Alasdair is someone who has seen and stood next to François for a very long time. I think he understands the inner workings of François better than most. And, in a certain way, better than even Arthur. From the fall of Rome to the 7 years war, Alasdair kept frequent contact with the man, both physical and if unable to visit, by letters. Alasdair is the one trapped between worlds and emotions after the Treaty of Versailles in 1763. Matthew, whom he adores so much, was abandoned by the man he deeply feels for. And in times like these it's very human to take sides, despite actively trying to understand each party. Alasdair chose Matthew. A boy he almost saw as his own. And François felt the shift. Less frequent letters and visits, as well as somewhat reserved communication when in person. They are still important to each other and always will be. But nations, in my hc are very human. I understand the appeal of making them non human eldritch beings, but i think they are very very human in their emotional and mental capacities and understandings of the world. Wiser and more experienced sure, but human non the less.

You also mentioned Alfred and the Italy bros. I'll do a separate post on their dynamic. However ye i do agree, Alfred and Romano are closer than Alfred and Feli. But what i will add is that Alfred doesn't dislike or find Feli off-putting due to the mask of airheadness. It's the fact that Alfred does the same and knows what it's used for and how it works that doesn't sit right with him. He knows the mask is a front for a sharp mind and knows that there is intelligence behind it.

#hetalia #ask meli #hws america #hws france #hws germany #hws spain #my headcanons #hetalia headcanons #ill link the first ask regarding francois but not right now lol

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neonscandal · 1 year ago

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I read this from twitter, can I ask your thoughts, Neon? Somehow I felt like there is something wrong in here (this post) :

"Even if Geto was never able to learn RCT or Domain Expansion, at the end of Shibuya we saw how Kenjaku had a better understanding of Curse Manipulation than Geto ever did even after 20+ years of using his technique which indicates that Geto stopped trying to hone his technique.

We're constantly shown through the actions of current players how in retrospect other characters made the wrong decisions when they chose the easier path instead of facing their hardships head on and trying to become stronger themselves.

Geto chose to be the strongest among the weakest instead of trying to keep up the strongest which is another betrayal to Gojo. Gojo says this to Megumi because from his POV, he doesn't feel like he abandoned Geto but Geto abandoned him by not striving to get stronger as well."

Dusting off the haters ✨

Baby girl keeps catching so many strays.

This read is kind of interesting in calling Geto the strongest among the weakest which.. I actually kind of like but that's another point.

I don't know what OP is specifying as far as what Gojo says to Megumi to say Geto betrayed him, I don't recall anything that would make sense to have extrapolated that but we'll put that on the backburner for a minute.

We'll go point by point. In universe, not everyone has the ability to learn RCT or Domain Expansion so let's start there. Mind you, a Black Flash, which is a lot more attainable, is still not a feat that everyone is able to accomplish offhandedly. Nanami, a Grade 1 sorcerer, knew his 4 in one go was a feat. In fact, when Gojo took Yuji under his tutelage, he basically explained that, jujutsu power graduation system be damned, you're born as strong as you're going to be with the exception of the bit of power that is refined/honed. So, for most sorcerers entering into Jujutsu High, they're already at like 90% of their potential. Shoko's cursed technique is her ability to manipulate RCT just like Nitta's brother. It's not like you see either of them offensively applying any cursed energy. The offensive fighters you see who have mastered RCT as a cute, little add on bonus are those who are special grade and with an infinite or godly amount of cursed energy (Gojo, Yuki, Sukuna, Yuta who can copy techniques, etc.). Geto's CT involves eating curses to subjugate them. Subsequently, I'm not sure how much of that translates into actual cursed energy he can manipulate.

The humor of this understanding is the fact that Gojo says this knowing that he unlocked like... a great deal of his own potential and shattered the glass ceiling of his power. This is echoed in Yuji's power ups throughout the story which is also considered anomalous.

Cursed techniques are passed from generation to generation. Of course Kenjaku had a better understanding of Curse Manipulation than some yokel who was born to non-sorcerers?? Kenjaku has lived for hundreds of years. If you've been in jujutsu society for a bit, you have more of a flair for deciphering other peoples' techniques.

Good Will Event - Kyoto sorcerers try to keep their techniques somewhat of a secret. Even those who don't have an inherited technique have something to lose when someone gets wind of what exactly they're dealing with

Toji vs Gojo - There was so much lore about Six Eyes and Limitless that Toji was able to craft a trap around what he knew to wear Gojo down. Over time, word tends to get out about the limits of famed familial techniques. Gojo says, during his second fight with Toji, that there's somewhat of a manual when you inherit a technique but even Purple Hollow hadn't been something that a lot of people knew about.

Megumi in Shibuya - As a reader, we actually watch as Megumi works to determine what cursed technique or the conditions of a person's CT are as he's fighting them to figure out how to best them.

The advantage of simply knowing is shown repeatedly. But if we couple it with the assumption that you're already as strong as you're going to get... why would Geto question it? He's the genius of hard work but even he knew he and Gojo weren't on the same scale of strength just because they were The Strongest.

Now we get to the strongest of the weakest comment which I love because... isn't it just so? Geto, born of non-sorcerers carries the burden of protecting the defenseless to give meaning to his suffering. Kinda makes him seem a little more egocentric than we'd have previously given him credit for, right? When we consider this idea of being the "strongest of the weakest", it puts me in the mind of a few things:

The level of Geto's strength suited his purposes just fine. Geto simply wished to protect. In being able to do so, why would he strive for more? He had no grand design for the power bestowed upon him. Gojo was actually driven to be the strongest, excited by any opportunity to go all out when it arises. Gojo is strong for his own satisfaction. As such, I see where there would be a divergence in motivation and, subsequently, dedication. Geto was just happy being at Gojo's side as The Strongest duo.

A lot of people assume Gojo has a god complex (tbh this link also supports why Gojo is the way he is in general as to my first point). But this spin makes it seem like Geto is more god complex leaning (not completely, relax). After the humbling against Toji, Geto develops a full blown martyr complex before his brain chemistry and ideals radically change. But it's only possible because he views his power as a burden because of its unpleasantness in its practice but also the responsibility for others it subsequently damns him to (search "herd" to get to the point).

There are countless references to Buddhism in JJK, obviously. I'm not a practicing Christian but this idea very much puts me in the mind of Jesus, born of man, scorned by and sacrificed for man. Just another interesting perspective as to how doomed Geto was by the cage of his own morals.

Following Riko's death, Geto does stagnate. In his grief, his survivor's guilt, his PTSD. We see Gojo soaring to new heights with his cursed technique because he can. I'm not sure Geto ever had the capacity given my first few points. Just because he's a special grade does not actually make him on par with the likes of Gojo or Yuta. Obviously, he mastered Maximum Uzumaki, his finishing technique, he used it against Yuta.

The big difference between Kenjaku's competence and Geto's competence with Geto's technique is that Kenjaku was able to subjugate Mahito and co-opt Mahito's technique which I'm not sure Geto had done previously (re: utilize the cursed technique of a curse he'd imbibed). But that begs the question over whether that ability was something Geto could do with his technique or whether that was actually a benefit of Kenjaku's ability to body hop and take over other sorcerers' techniques. Even the Domain Expansion that we see Kenjaku perform later, avoiding spoilers, is not Geto's just because it was performed in Geto's body. It was Kenjaku's own Domain Expansion.

Gojo was very obviously hurt by Geto's defection. Namely because of what he lost, what he could not understand, and Geto's parting words. But I don't think, at any point, he ever felt betrayed by Geto. Least of all by his inability to keep up with him, per se. Why else would he call him, in present tense, his "best friend, his one and only" ten years after his defection? After considering OP's comment further, I assume they are referencing the deal that was made when Gojo goes to collect Megumi.

.... Is that a look of betrayal or a look of regret? Seems more like the latter, to me. In his heart of hearts, I don't think Gojo could bring himself to blame Geto. As far as Gojo was concerned, Geto was in the right more often than he was in the wrong. He was his moral compass, someone whose opinion he valued, someone he could confidently rely on. I think Gojo was more inclined to believe that he failed Geto, if anything. Geto left him questioning himself, as we see in the exchange with Yaga, but it also led him to the fact that it is not enough to simply be strong.

#neon asks #anon asks #manga with me #manga with me jjk #we are the strongest #jjk #stsg #satosugu #character analysis #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #suguru geto #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk character analysis #jjk meta #jjk analysis #satosugu brainrot #jjk brainrot

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noa748 · 5 months ago

Text

unnamed bg3 bunny

Unlikely to be published on ao3 anytime soon (so many edits I want to do when I'm not consumed by the hyperfixation fever lol), but I figured I'd post what I have here. I'll most likely keep this story exclusively to tumblr for a good while. Won't be 100% polished, won't be divided up into "chapters" with natural flow, I'm basically just going to periodically word vomit and throw it out here hahaha

Yes, I bypassed the whole nautiloid intro because I wanted to get straight to the meat of things (aka alllll the characters). It'll probably be referenced here and there in flashbacks.

Fair warning, 6700 words ahead lol

----

Terror.

For an eternity, that was all I knew. The world around me was dark and alien, full of fleshy constructs and tentacled abominations. I was bound. Trapped. Forced to witness as my captors went from pod to pod, drawing shrieks of agony from the captives.

Then they came to the pod adjacent mine, and I finally saw what they were doing.

I was screaming long before they approached me.

----

One step at a time.

That was my mantra, repeated over and over to myself as I made my way shakily down the debris-strewn shoreline. Just put one foot in front of the other—focus on nothing else.

My initial sense of relief upon waking up had been replaced with an overarching feeling of dread that I was fighting hard not to fully acknowledge. I had wanted to think this was just a normal beach—but then I saw the smoke on the horizon, and when I crested a hill I could see a massive set of tentacles unfurled into the water up ahead. They looked lifeless, almost deflated.

… But they had been alive not too long ago.

I paused to press a trembling hand to my forehead, just over my right eye.

The ship. The pods. Those things… they had all been real. That woman’s harsh words came back to me, reverberating through my skull:

We carry mind flayer parasites. Unless we escape, unless we are cleansed… our bodies and minds will be tainted and twisted.

A memory. The parasite, a squirming tadpole-like creature with circular rows of teeth, being held carefully up to my eye. Panic, terror, revulsion. Pain.

The urge to vomit returned, but I pushed it down. No time. No time for anything.

Within days. Days, she said.

I didn’t know how I was even alive. I remembered falling from the ship, convinced I was about to meet my end. Then I had just… woken up here, sprawled out on the shore. Though maybe that was the least weird thing that had happened to me recently.

One step at a time.

I dropped the hand from my forehead and resumed walking. The only path forward led back towards that damnable ship, but the weight of Kerberos on my back reassured me. At least if I went down, I’d go down fighting. But once I got past the ship… what then? Where the fuck was I?

The sense of helplessness returned, but I pushed it down. No time for that either.

It was only through sheer luck that I had managed to take my sword along with me. They had snatched me from my fucking living room, and I’d had the blade and sheath mounted on the wall. It had been so long since I’d held a live blade in my hands out of necessity. Kerberos had long since started feeling like a prop, a decoration to gather dust.

Thirteen years had passed since Aselia. Thirteen years, and now this.

Up ahead. A shape crumpled on the side of the path. A person?

Shadowheart!

The woman I had rescued from the pod was lying curled on her side, one arm slightly outstretched. The strange object from before rested neatly in her palm, the late afternoon sun gleaming off of its fractured surface. It occurred to me that she must have been cradling it against her body, protecting it even as she plummeted to her death.

I crouched next to her and held a hand out just below her nose, felt a puff of air as she exhaled. Oh… oh, thank God. I wasn’t alone in this after all. Some of the weight lifted from my shoulders and I let out a sigh of relief, reaching out to give her a good shake.

Her eyes snapped open. For a moment she stared at me in confusion, and then she pushed up into a sitting position.

“…What?” She looked around, as if our surroundings weren’t fully registering. “You’re alive. I’m alive. How is this possible?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I responded, drawing up to my full height. I looked over in the direction of the crashed tentacle-ship, frowning. “Have you seen our other friend? That woman… what was her name…”

Fierce. Green-skinned. Alien. There were so many descriptors that came to mind, but I didn’t even know what was normal here.

Shadowheart let out a light scoff. “The Gith? She didn’t say. And you may want to reconsider calling her a friend—it looks like she ran off without us.”

That didn’t surprise me at all. She had been adamantly against rescuing Shadowheart—a fact that the other woman was well aware of. I had also heard the urgency in her tone when she was describing the parasite dilemma; she knew what we were facing and wasn’t about to be slowed down in her quest for the cure.

Still, though… she was a trained warrior through-and-through. It had been a relief having her around on the ship, fighting off those imps. I had been woefully out of practice and underdressed for the occasion.

“We should probably keep an eye out for her,” I remarked. “Strength in numbers, right?”

“With company that may stab you in the back at any moment? I hardly think the rule applies.” The dark-haired woman stood, discreetly stowing away the artefact that had been clutched in her hand. “We need to take care of ourselves first. We need supplies, shelter… and most of all, a healer. We might’ve escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.”

“Right,” I replied, letting out a sigh. I gestured in the direction of the ship ruins. “Looks like there’s only the one way. Might as well get moving.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?” I paused and looked back over at her.

“I wanted to thank you again for freeing me back on the ship. I owe you my life.”

“Oh, ah…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “You don’t owe me anything. Really. I just did what needed to be done. How could I have just left you there?”

“For most, it would have been all too easy,” she pointed out, green eyes sincere. “Especially with an agitated Githyanki cursing in your ear.”

I almost wanted to point out that Shadowheart had been doing her fair share of loud cursing, but didn’t want to rock the boat when I seemed to be on her good side. Instead I just offered a smile in response.

“Well, watch my back and we’ll call it even.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Consider it done. Lead the way.”

And we were off, picking our way through the debris towards the crash site.

It made the most sense for me to lead—back on the ship, Shadowheart had revealed herself to be more of a magic user than a frontline fighter—but it still felt strange. I was blessed to still have Kerberos strapped to my back, but I was way in over my head. There was a good chance we would’ve gotten our asses handed to us on the ship if not for that… that agitated Githyanki, as my new companion put it.

I mean, I wasn’t even wearing armor. My current getup consisted of a long-sleeved black v-neck shirt, skinny jeans, and a pair of Timberland boots. The simple outfit had looked cute enough to go grab dinner with friends last night, but it offered zero protection from… well, anything. And to think I’d almost worn my high heeled boots—God, imagine fighting in those. My shoulder-length wavy brown hair was down and I didn’t even have a hair tie, so at this point it was a wild mane.

It had been too long since I’d had to defend myself like this. I had tried to keep up with my training, back when I’d still had hope of returning to Aselia. But once I realized it was a lost cause, it just… seemed pointless. It had become a once in a while thing, an excuse to wax nostalgic. Lifting the heavy blade without consistent training—and without an Exsphere—was hell on my arms and shoulders. And now here I was, swinging it around like I was nineteen again. It was a miracle I hadn’t torn a muscle.

Noodle arms, I thought with chagrin as we circled a fallen tree. Still… despite my incompetence in battle, despite my stubborn insistence that we stop and rescue Shadowheart, that other woman had stuck with us. Maybe it was simply because she felt her odds of survival were greater in a group. She may have run off without us at this point, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to write her off completely.

Plus I had seen those other Gith people riding dragons. I’d rather not be on the fucking Targaryens’ bad side, thanks. At least we had a common enemy in the mind flayers.

We dipped to the bottom of a hill, and the sight of a human corpse set me on edge. It was a grizzled older man with a leathery face and threadbare looking clothes. Judging by the snapped rod gripped in one hand and the basket sitting beside him, he had been a fisherman.

Not anymore. His skull was split open, blood and grey matter spilling out on to the sand. The sight should have made me nauseous, but I had witnessed so many horrors in the past twenty-four hours that at this point I just felt numb.

“It seems we weren’t the only ones to survive the crash,” Shadowheart commented beside me, lips set in a grim frown. She looked up towards the looming husk of this ship. All we had to do was crest the next hill, and we’d be back in the lion’s den.

Right. The man’s head was cracked like an egg. Mind flayers were after brains. Or, well, something like that—my knowledge was based off of a curious Google search after the creature had been referenced in Stranger Things. Some of my friends in high school had played Dungeons and Dragons, but it was a world I had never personally broken into. Till now. Literally.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Then I crouched by the body and began to pat it down. Behind me, Shadowheart simply waited, voicing no protest.

Part of me couldn’t believe I was looting a corpse. But then there was the harder part, the survivor that still remembered what it felt like to cleave a blade through flesh. We were dealing with eldritch abominations that had no sense of honor or morality. I couldn’t afford to hesitate now.

For the first time in a while, I thought of Kratos. He was the one I felt myself trying to emulate. I remembered there were times where his cold pragmatism had bordered on callous—but he did what needed to be done in situations where others would falter.

A pouch on the man’s waist jingled with coin. Other than that, he carried nothing save for a dull knife and a half-eaten crust of bread. I took the pouch and tied it to my own belt, making a mental note to find a pack of some sort.

“Look. Up ahead,” Shadowheart prompted in a low voice as I stood.

I followed her gaze. There was the battered body of something else lying on the path—one of those creatures that was basically an oversized brain with legs. They had served the mind flayers on the ship.

We were standing in the shadow of the ship; there could be more. The corpse at my feet was a testament to that. A fresh wave of adrenaline hit me, and I drew my sword.

“The only way out is through,” I said, and we resumed the trek.

As we crested the next hill, the ship’s interior spread out before us. The midday sun lit up a landscape that I had previously only seen shadowed, making it look even more bizarre and out of place. The walkways, stairs and walls were crafted of a strange material that almost resembled the carapace of some great insect. Several of the glowing purple tanks I had seen before had burst, their contents consumed by hungry flames.

Acrid smoke met my nostrils as we strode into the wreckage. I didn’t even want to think about what kind of substances we were breathing in. Best to just get out of here as soon as possible.

It was in that moment that I heard the animalistic squeals and chatters that had become all too familiar on the ship. I looked up to see shifting movement up ahead.

“Vicious filth,” Shadowheart spat from behind me. “We’re outnumbered. Best keep some distance, or this’ll be a short fight.”

She was right. I counted one, two, three… four up ahead, some darting down from a half-collapsed upper level and one crawling out from beneath rubble. They were alarmingly quick in their movements; they’d be on us in a matter of seconds. Shit.

“The tanks are flammable,” I remarked suddenly, seeing a few more that were still undamaged.

Shadowheart quickly saw my reasoning, saw how the shortest path to us would be right past three intact tanks. She held a hand out that began to glow with fire magic.

Movement in my peripheral caused me to swing around, and I just barely avoided a swipe of claws. A fifth had crept up from somewhere on my left. I lashed out in a counterattack, bringing Kerberos down in a vertical swing and letting gravity do most of the work. The heavy blade sank into the valley between brain hemispheres and nearly cleaved the thing in two; my shoulders screamed when the sword went straight through and made jarring contact with the floor.

Then my head exploded with pain. I staggered to the side, pressing one hand to my forehead and seeing stars. What the hell was that?!

“Ignis!” Shadowheart yelled, and a ball of fire launched from her hand into the three clustered tanks across the room. They erupted just as the four brain things were scuttling past, enveloping them in a curtain of flames.

It wasn’t enough. One charred creature burst out from the chaos, and I saw the air around it ripple. Now Shadowheart let out a cry, stumbling back and clutching at her head.

Some kind of psychic attack, I realized with alarm. If given the chance, they could overwhelm us easily.

Two more emerged from the flames, but they looked wounded. I ran forward, not wanting to give them the chance to recover. I was internally roaring with frustration at how sluggish my body felt, how slow it was to respond to the instinct that wanted to take over.

Precious seconds were lost, and claws tore at the back of my jeans, gouging my right calf. I landed a hard kick on the one in front of me before whirling around to the two that had circled to my right, swinging my blade in a wide arc. The attack connected, and blood flew as Kerberos’ wickedly sharp edge cleaved through one brain before burying itself in the flesh of the next.

The creature staggered back as I ripped the blade free; another bolt of fire from Shadowheart put it down. A jolt of cold pain like an ice pick in my skull caused my ears to ring. My jaw clenched and I turned, thrusting my blade out before me just in time for the other brain to be impaled mid-leap.

My arms buckled under the sudden weight. Nearly stumbling, I quickly readjusted my stance and lowered the blade to the ground, pushing forward until the agony in my head abated and I was certain the thing had been run through.

Then all was still. No sounds from around us, other than the crackling flames and my own labored breathing.

I straightened. Planted one foot on the fallen creature, bracing myself and yanking the sword free. A pool of blood was slowly spreading out on to the flooring beneath my feet.

“Te curo.”

My right leg was suddenly enveloped with warmth, and I felt the laceration sealing. It was a welcome, comforting sensation that I hadn’t felt in many years—healing magic. For a brief, bittersweet instant, it felt like Raine was standing beside me. Then the moment passed.

I turned to Shadowheart and offered a smile. “Thanks.”

The smile she returned was reserved, difficult to read. “Perhaps our survival isn’t such a distant prospect. You fight well; I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Right back atcha,” I responded with a snort. “What, I don’t look like a hardened warrior?”

Now her lips edged up into something a little more genuine. “You don’t exactly dress the part.”

“Give me a break, I was kidnapped,” I said. “… But you’re right. Supplies, healer… add armor to the list, I guess.”

The blaze that had resulted from the exploding tanks had now begun to abate, the smoke clearing. The most obvious path ahead led through the ashes; I turned in that direction, pausing to look over my shoulder at Shadowheart.

“Shall we?”

We continued on. My pounding heart stabilized into a steadier rhythm. For the first time, I was starting to feel like my feet were on more solid ground. The grip I had on Kerberos still felt natural—familiar. The ancient metal held its edge. I still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I knew that those fuckers could bleed.

The dark walkways of the ship extended in several different directions once we were past the burst tanks. After some deliberation, I elected to bear left and take the shortest path towards the end of the wreckage; this place felt too dangerous for us to linger.

We passed through the shadow of the ship and out into full sunlight once more, and I found myself exhaling a sigh of relief. We were far from out of the woods, but the oppressive energy of the place had been sitting heavily on my shoulders. That time in the pods… I hadn’t felt so trapped and alone since Welgaia.

On the path beyond the wreckage, we encountered two more corpses; these ones appeared humanoid but had pointed ears and a strange, dark greyish skin tone. Some kind of elf? They had been killed in a similar manner to the first body we had encountered.

I raided their pockets as well, feeling like kind of an asshole until Shadowheart crouched beside me and lifted a small bottle from one of their shredded packs. Satisfied, she tucked it away. Now we were both assholes, at least.

One of them did have money, a handful of gold coins that I tucked in the pouch I had picked up earlier. Hopefully this would be worth it and I wasn’t disrespecting the dead for the fantasy world equivalent of five bucks. I knew nothing about this currency.

I knew asking Shadowheart about it was always an option, but I held my tongue for the same reason I hadn’t asked her much of anything else yet—asking questions opened the door to being asked questions in return. I barely knew her, and I wasn’t ready to tell my own story until I understood more about what was happening. Based on her distant demeanor, I got the sense that the feeling was mutual. She remained crouched next to one of the bodies in a final cursory investigation, so I meandered ahead a few paces while I waited.

The path beyond appeared to run further along the coast, climbing along some bluffs that ran parallel to the ship. The marsh grasses of the beach gave way to scraggly shrubs and some taller, knobby pines. I was surprised to see a figure standing amidst the cluster of new greenery, this one blessedly alive and not a creature from my nightmares.

The man had his back turned, but he heard me coming and swung around. I was struck immediately by his crimson eyes, which stood out in stark relief against his pale skin and silvery-white hair.

“Hurry,” he said to me, eyes darting down to my bloodied sword. “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” He turned back towards where the hill sloped down towards the ocean. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.”

My heartbeat picked up, my ears still ringing slightly from the last blast of psychic energy. If the creature had any strength left, one of us was bound to get nailed in a second. I had no desire to experience that pain again anytime soon.

There were no weapons in the man’s hands. I saw the gold stitching on his clothes, the perfectly coiffed hair. Nobility, caught out of his element?

Satisfied with my assessment, I walked past him and told him to stand back. Steeling myself, I scanned the tall grass for any signs of movement. I didn’t have to wait long before a large mammal—some type of boar—was startled out of its hiding place and ran away. My shoulders sagged with relief.

Like you killed the others.

The words floated back to the forefront of my mind, and my brow furrowed. Wait a minute. Had he been watching—

I had just enough time to register a flash as the midday sun gleamed off the metal of a blade. Then I was yanked backwards, my feet scrambling in a futile effort to gain purchase. I ended up landing hard on my back. The sharp edge of a dagger was pressed to the underside of my chin.

“Shhh… not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” That voice from before, once shaky, was now silky-smooth.

I strained to create distance between my skin and the blade, dropping Kerberos and using both hands to wrestle against the arm holding the dagger, but it was futile; his other hand was gripping my opposite shoulder and holding me firmly in place. Disoriented, gritting my teeth, I turned my head and saw those crimson eyes once more.

Fuck. Fuck!!

“Good girl,” he purred, but I saw the way his eyes darted away and then back to me. Looking for Shadowheart. “Now… I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

A wave of anger flooded through me. After all this, after this magnificent load of bullshit, I was going to get taken out by some smarmy bastard with a knife?!

The sound of a twig snapping drew his attention for a split second, and I reacted purely out of instinct. I twisted his wrist just enough to tilt the blade away from my throat; then I jerked forward, cracking my forehead against his. He cried out in surprise and the arm holding me loosened just enough to roll away. We both leapt to our feet and faced each other.

“You wretched little—!” It was one hundred percent worth the pain to see the self-assured smirk wiped off his face. He regarded me with fury in his eyes but then faltered, hesitating.

Then I felt it too—a strange, wriggling sensation behind my right eye. I heard the man let out a pained grunt just as something in my head twisted. Suddenly I found myself staring out of another set of eyes, prowling the dark streets of an unfamiliar city. Foreign emotions, sensations and smells enveloped me. Hunger. Tension. Light. Fear.

Then I was drifting. I tried to hold on to the vision, to understand, but it slipped like sand through my fingers.

The parasite, I realized. It had been the same when I first met Shadowheart and the Gith woman. So that… had that been a memory?

“What was that?” The man growled, holding his dagger up once more. “What’s going on?”

“Lower that blade, and you may live to find out,” Shadowheart said icily from behind him, her mace held at the ready.

Relief flooded through me, but I didn’t like the calculating look that crossed his features when he realized he was caught. I had already underestimated him once, and something told me he wouldn’t be one to go down easy.

“Wait,” I said, making eye contact with my companion. Her eyes narrowed, but after a moment she acquiesced and backed off a bit. Now I shot a look at the stranger, holding my hands up in an appeasing gesture.

“It’s the parasite they infected us with,” I explained. “It connects us. Some sort of… of twisted hivemind.”

He stared at me in surprise. The hostility leaked out of his features as I saw him put the pieces together.

“What? Then that was…” His brow furrowed and he gave me a searching look. After some hesitation, he lowered the dagger. “You’re… not one of them. They took you, just the same as me.”

I felt exasperated—all of this could have been accomplished without a knife being jammed against my throat—but something in his eyes made the snarky comeback die before it reached my lips. I thought of those shadowed streets again. The fear.

The man inclined his head, smiling. “And to think, I was just about to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

Ugh. This guy.

“Apology accepted. Grudgingly,” I said, glowering.

Shadowheart let out a small laugh, circling around and lowering her weapon. “I may have done the same, if the roles were reversed.”

“Ah, a kindred spirit,” he responded, turning his smile on her.

Oh, come on, Shadowheart! All this talk about the Githyanki woman being a backstabber, and then she goes and warms up to him?!

Deep breaths.

I let out a sigh, bending to retrieve my sword and sheathe it. I thought about how that very same Gith woman had jumped to aggression as well, at least until the parasite had connected us. She had thought I was a thrall—a slave to the mind flayers. Maybe it wasn’t such an unreasonable assumption. Could I really fault him for not being trusting, given what we’d all been through? So far I had encountered little but hostility from this world.

“My name’s Astarion,” the man continued, finally stowing away his dagger. “I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

I froze. Baldur’s Gate?

“Shadowheart,” my companion responded. Then I felt her stare. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” I replied, shaking my head. Then I looked at Astarion. “I’m Brittany.”

“A pleasure,” he said. Though he still wore the smile, his gaze was inquisitive.

My mind was racing. Baldur’s Gate. A video game? Another fucking video game? I had played a Baldur’s Gate game for maybe an hour when I was twelve before my short attention span won out. What use was I in a place where I had zero foreknowledge? What was the point? Why was this happening again?

“So,” Astarion said, snapping me out of my thoughts, “do you know anything about these… parasites?”

“Deplorable things,” Shadowheart said, her nose wrinkling with disgust. “If we do nothing, they will turn us into mind flayers.”

“Turn us into—ha. Hahaha!”

The burst of laughter that came out of him was so bitter that it gave me pause. I stared at him with increased scrutiny, shelving my own freakout for the time being. What was up with this guy?

“Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

The words came out just above a mutter, dripping with contempt. He looked away, eyes dark, lips pulled back in a grimace.

“Although… it hasn’t happened yet,” he said, glancing back up to Shadowheart and then to me. “If we can find an expert—someone that can control these things—there might still be time.”

“Control?” My brow furrowed. “I want the brain worm out, thanks.”

“Well, yes, of course,” he replied, an irritating edge of condescension in his tone. “But first things first.”

“Astarion. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any hints as to where we are?” Shadowheart asked.

“No. I typically don’t venture far from the city… and even if I did, I’m afraid this hulking monstrosity appears to have crushed all discernible landmarks.” He gestured to the ruins of the ship.

I frowned, looking back in the direction we had come from. We had survived the encounter with those brains earlier through a bit of luck and quick thinking. What if there were more lurking around? Or worse yet—what if there was a mind flayer somewhere, just waiting to take us back under its control? I had to suppress a shudder at the thought.

Our chances of survival would improve if we had a third person. I had been hoping our third person could be Alien Xena with the big sword, but… ugh. Asshole knife man would have to do.

“Look, why don’t you come with us?” I piped up, seriously hoping I wouldn’t regret this. “Better odds if we stay together.”

“…You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.” Astarion had turned to offer me an appraising look, lips curling in a feline smile.

“Very well. I accept.” He ducked his head, extending his arms in a mock bow. Something about the way he looked up at me through his lashes made my stomach unexpectedly flutter.

Uh.

Oh, shit.

I was quick to avert my gaze, clearing my throat awkwardly. "Great. We should probably get going, then.”

“Agreed; we’d best be on our guard. No telling who else may be lying in wait, ready to hold us at knifepoint,” Shadowheart said, the ghost of a wry smile on her face.

“Aha, rest assured you’ll not be caught unawares when you’re with me,” Astarion shot back. He laughed. “Not unless it’s my own knife in your back, anyway.”

“Charming,” she replied. “Conveniently forgetting the part where I snuck up on you. Curious—it’s almost as if you’ve had a knock to the head.”

The two of them continued on in much the same manner as we made our way along the ravaged coastline. Their catty back and forth made me want to laugh—and also smack my head against something. After Shadowheart and the Githyanki clearly wanting to kill each other on the ship, I had been hoping we could have something a little closer to camaraderie. Guess that was too much to ask, considering who I’d just invited along. Astarion was kind of a dick.

And he’s gorgeous, don’t forget that.

Leading the pack, I was grateful my frown of disgust wasn’t visible to my companions. I sure knew how to pick them, didn’t I? I had been too pissed off earlier to let my thoughts wander in that direction, but now that I was feeling more level headed, it was hard not to notice—the man looked like a statue of some Greek god come to life. And he knew it.

Goddammit. I didn’t have time for this.

So I decided to compartmentalize, taking all those thoughts and shoving them in a box. Kicking that box into an increasingly crowded closet. Struggling to close the door. But hey, it shut! Hopefully when the inevitable bomb went off later, we’d have already gone our separate ways.

As we walked, I noted with dismay that steady upward slope we were on eventually gave way to sheer cliffs. The path was gradually beginning to curve to the right, back towards the crash site. Unless we wanted to go for a swim in the ocean or do a very technical climb, we were going to have to cut through the ship again.

It wasn’t long before the snide commentary between my companions died out, and I figured they had both arrived at the same conclusion. There was a distinct underlying tension that was entirely different from the general air of mistrust that existed among the three of us.

We rounded a bend. The path sloped downhill and disappeared beneath burning wreckage. Beyond the debris, the belly of the ship opened up before us. I paused, taking advantage of the higher ground to take stock of the situation.

“Any signs of movement?” Shadowheart asked, walking up to stand beside me.

“Not that I can see,” I murmured, frowning.

“Then let’s just get it over with,” Astarion said. He gestured for me to proceed. “Lead on.”

I shot him a flat look. “I’m not your meat shield, you know.”

“Of course not, darling,” he responded with an indulgent smile. “You’re our meat shield.”

Cute. I rolled my eyes and faced forward again, reaching up to draw my sword. My shoulders screamed in protest. I was far from comfortable taking point, but the reality was that I had a fighting style meant for the front lines. Tempting as it was, shoving Astarion up front with his stupid dagger wouldn’t be the best choice… even if he deserved it.

Falling into silence, we descended once more into the ruins of the ship.

The air rippled with heat from the flames burning all around us. It created the illusion of movement in my peripheral; I found myself glancing side to side, paranoid and on edge. To my left were several of those horrific pods, the fronts shattered. Glass crunched beneath our feet with every step.

No sign of one of those pools with the wriggling worms. With any luck, they had been destroyed in the crash.

Not that it would undo what’s already been done.

My jaw clenched. I felt the thing in my head squirm and had to push down a sudden wave of nausea. I willed away the feelings, as I had been doing all day. The sheer effort of it all was exhausting.

The parasite would not be silenced. It writhed. I cried out, gripping at my temples, and realized that Shadowheart and Astarion were doing the same. Through the haze of pain, I looked up and found myself locking gazes with the monster from my nightmares.

My keys jingled noisily as I tossed them on the table next to the front door. I was bending down to untie my boots when something made me pause. There was a strange charge to the air, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Leaving my shoes on, I strode into my living room and flipped on the light.

Nothing looked amiss. And yet…

Hung on the wall like the prop it had inevitably become, Kerberos hummed like a tuning fork.

For a second I stood frozen, the resonating sound making my molars ache. I wondered if this was some kind of hallucination, if someone had slipped something in my drink earlier.

Then an old instinct took over and I snapped into action. Heart suddenly pounding, I lunged forward and ripped the blade and sheath from the wall mount. The humming reached a crescendo that rammed into my brain like a cold knife. I realized that it wasn’t just the blade; the air thrummed with something foreign. Something powerful.

Magic?

I stared at the empty space in the middle of the room, where a mote of bluish light had begun to shine. My spirits suddenly soared with wild hope and longing. Could it be? After all this time?

The light expanded, forming a large disc in the air.

It was undoubtedly a portal, but what ended up breaching the boundary between realities was not human. It was a hand—a huge hand, with purplish skin stretched over skeletal fingers tipped with long talons. The hand reached toward me, then clenched into a loose fist.

I felt all of my rekindled hope die in that instant. Ice seeped into my veins as I realized I wasn’t just frozen with fear—I couldn’t move.

And when the tentacled thing stepped through the portal, its glowing eyes boring into mine, I found myself walking toward it instead of away.

I shuddered and tried to shake myself out of the memory, but my mind was laser focused on the instant of subjugation. The helplessness. The terror.

The peace.

My breath slowed. Ahead was the mind flayer, lying propped up against a collapsed pillar in a spreading pool of silver. There was no other option but to approach.

I could feel it—the sensation of minds merging. It was effortless. It was bliss. This wasn’t one of my captors—it was my master. My liberator. The sheer weight of the day was melting away. I was a fool for ever trying to run. I was—

“Gods damn it!” Astarion let out a pained hiss somewhere behind me, and the sound of his voice derailed my train of thought.

Thought? What—what had I been—?

The creature before me had twitched. Its gaze was far away now, distracted.

My mind was my own once more, but the sudden loss of control had left me reeling. A wall of panic hit me at the thought of being forced under again. Dark memories of the ship that I had been trying not to dwell on bubbled to the surface.

I barely had time to realize what I was doing before Kerberos was plunged through the mind flayer’s chest. Part of me had expected more resistance, but the blade cut through the creature’s flesh just as easily as any monster. It was anticlimactic; the thing gave one final shudder and then its head lolled to one side, tentacles going limp.

My head cleared. I straightened, swallowing the bile that had gathered at the back of my throat.

“A swift death was more than it deserved,” Shadowheart said from beside me, her nose wrinkled with disgust. “But… we’re rid of it, at least.”

“That was awful. Let’s not linger. What if there are more of those things?” Astarion’s gaze wandered the area, his face set with tension.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

----

Finally putting the ruins of the ship behind us felt like waking up from a bad dream—that moment of looking around, realizing you were back in the world of the sane and rational, breathing a sigh of relief.

It was almost exhilarating: walking through a sun-dappled forest, hearing birdsong and smelling the earthy aroma of undergrowth. It felt normal.

After my year out on the road with the Symphonia crew, I had developed a newfound passion for the natural world. Long treks on mountain paths, watching the wildlife, sleeping out under the stars… it had all been such a needed escape from the fast-paced American lifestyle. Earth had felt so loud and overwhelming after Aselia; being away from it all, out in the wilderness, was how I had always centered myself.

Even here, it’s the same, I thought with some comfort. Don’t recognize the bird calls, and the plants are unfamiliar. But the feeling? The feeling’s there.

“Ugh,” Astarion groused, swatting at the back of his neck. “Biting flies, midges… isn’t nature supposed to be peaceful?”

I snorted; his timing was so perfect, I couldn’t even be mad. “Spoken like a true city dweller.”

Shadowheart remained quiet, as she had been for a while now. She had seemed unsettled by the memory the mind flayer had forced to the surface during our encounter earlier. Based on a few of the comments Astarion had made, I gathered that we all saw something different.

“I suppose you’ll tell me next that it’s an acquired taste,” he said; I could hear the eye roll in his voice. “Like your… interesting choice in raiment.”

“I mean, it sort of is—hey!” I faltered midsentence and shot him a look. It had been so long since I heard someone use the world raiment in casual conversation, it hadn’t clicked right away. Why did everyone keep picking on my clothes?

“I mean no offense,” he said, holding his hands up, but the amusement in his eyes said otherwise. “But you’ve hardly the look of a ranger, my dear. Where exactly did you say you were from?”

“A long way away,” I responded, tearing my gaze from his and training my eyes carefully forward.

----

MORE TO COME. EVENTUALLY.

Planning on getting to Gale and Lae'zel in the next part, possibly even Wyll.

Will there be a pairing? Yes. Will everyone be horny for Brit like they are for Tav in the game? No. I'm looking forward to writing some very tales-style platonic interactions/close friendships. Though she better cool it with her nature talk or Halsin might have an interesting conversation with her at the start of act 3 lmao

[Part 2]

#noa748 writing #the nice thing about brit having no bg3 knowledge #is that people that haven't played will actually be able to follow what's going on haha #fortune's favored fic

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punksludge-art · 7 months ago

Text

Traversing the Journey of Self Love

Each day faces it's own new & unique challenges.

Prior to surgery it felt impossible to even see my reflection. If it wasn't a perfectly orchestrated self taken image, that masked my curves & chest, then I would never share myself.

Each time I looked in the mirror & saw who was looking back at me, it was a level of disconnect I genuinely thought would never go away. Like trying to see yourself but you see an imposter, an alien, someone/something that had an essence of yourself, but something was just so deeply wrong & off about it.

It gave extreme uncanny valley affect for me.

This feeling like I didn't belong.

Its been slowly changing as ive seen the effects of the testosterone do what it's meant to do.

As ive noticed my voice deepen, facial hair start to creep in & fill out, my jawline sharpen, feet growing, body hair growing thicker. Finally having chest hair...

Its given me a better sense of connection with myself. For each little change, brings me to one day looking in the mirror & finally start to see ME staring back into the mirror.

Its has been a cascade of emotions..

Self hatred seeped deep within myself, clinging to me like tar. Desperate for me to give in.

Thinking I would not live past 18. Feeling so trapped, so lost, so alone & yet so put on full display, all at once.

Now im nearly 3 months post op, & i can actually enjoy my self care. I actually speak love onto myself as I wash away the filth of the day, standing there, bare & naked. On display for my own self. A monumental moment for myself, as I finally faced my very own body without this drastic, desperate need to peel my own skin off.

I looked down for the first time post op, & even with tube's hanging from my sides, still attached within me, I cried. I cried hard. I cried tears of joy. Tears of relief. I cried for the part of myself that tried so hard to kill itself. The part of me who saw myself as a monster. The part of me that was so confused, so lost, so overwhelmed & so disgusted with my own body.

Each day i face myself in the mirror & i can actually smile, see joy. See ME looking back.

I face new challenges of self love. I am a short, hairy chubby guy. I've always been chubby but I had a chest to balance my body out. Now it's all belly. Now I look down & I see my chubby hairy belly. It sometimes is difficult because I'm not a stereotypical hot skinny trans dude that's conventionally attractive.

But even still, I can shower, bare & naked & i can do it with the lights on. I can do it & actually look upon my own flesh & not feel like i must tear it to shreds, desperately trying to escape it.

For I now look in the mirror, & i see ME.

No more feeling out of place. No more feeling hideous. No more fear over what my future of self love would be... for i have shown myself so much love, that I finally stood up, opened my eyes & truly saw my TV glow. I saw my TV Glow & i will never shut it off again.

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hazel-lamb · 1 year ago

Text

Teams ZITS A/B/O fic

This is the first one I've posted.

To see the dynamics and some of my headcannons see this post> 👁👄👁

Smut fic🔞

Word count: 2,456

Zedaph woke up feeling warmer than normal, thinking it was just the blanket wrapped around him he kicked it off, but when he didn't feel better, he groaned realizing he was in heat. He sat up and reached for his communicator, his mind racing with thoughts. He nocked down his glass of water on to the floor before he found his communicator, his eyes scanning the screen for one of his mates.

He clicked the chat for the first of his mates he saw, which was Tango. The screen flickered to life, displaying messages between them.

<Zedaph> Tang0 can you comw to mt base

He waited for what felt like forever before Tango responded, his heart racing with anticipation.

<TangoTek> I'm on my way

Zedaph let out a sigh of relief as he put the communicator down and waited for Tango to arrive. As he tossed and turned, the heat in his stomach only intensified, making his skin feel like it was on fire. He tried to focus on his breathing, but his mind kept wandering back to the discomfort that was growing by the minute. His thighs began to feel like they were glued together, and he couldn't help but rub his legs together.

The friction he created between his thighs was a small comfort, but it only seemed to make him more aware of the heat coursing through his veins. He let out a low groan, feeling like he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find a way to cool down.

With a sudden burst of frustration, Zedaph ripped off his pajama shirt and threw it across the room. He was starting to get desperate, and his usually calm demeanor was quickly giving way to panic.

As he lay there, his bare chest heaving with ragged breaths, he felt like he was going to implode from the inside out. He grabbed at the sheets, twisting and writhing as he tried to find some relief from the heat that seemed to be consuming him.

His small whines turned into moans as he continued to thrash about, his body wracked with discomfort. He felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage, unable to escape the torment that was ravaging his body.

The sound of a knock on the bedroom door was like a beacon of relief for Zedaph, who was starting to feel like he was going to lose his mind from the heat coursing through his veins. He groaned in anticipation, hoping that it was Tango on the other side of the door.

When Tango's head poked into the room, Zedaph's eyes lit up with hope.

"Zed?"

Tango called, his voice low and calm. As he sniffed the air, Zedaph could sense a hint of concern in his friend's tone.

"Oh, are you in heat?"

Tango asked, his voice tinged with amusement. Zedaph nodded weakly, feeling like he was on the verge of collapse.

Tango chuckled softly and pushed open the door, sauntering into the room with a confident stride. He sat down beside Zedaph on the bed, his presence a comforting balm to Zedaph's frazzled nerves. As he leaned against Tango, he buried his face in his mate's neck, seeking solace in the familiar scent of burnt copper emanating from his sent glands. Tango patted him on the back, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"Be patient, let me tell the others,"

he said, his voice soothing. Zedaph moaned quietly, feeling like he was trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn't wake up.

As Tango pulled out his communicator and began to type out a message, Zedaph watched him with a mix of gratitude and desperation.

Tango's gaze lingered on Zedaph, his eyes searching for a glimmer of calm in the turbulent sea of his friend's emotions. But even as he tried to soothe Zedaph with his gentle words, Zedaph could sense the underlying tension beneath Tango's surface. It was a hunger that seemed to be growing by the minute, a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

Tango's tail flicked restlessly, a telltale sign of his own escalating emotions.

Just as Zedaph felt like he was drowning in the waves of Tango's emotions, the door creaked open and Skizz stepped into the room. He was holding a small bag of supplies, and as he moved towards Tango.

Impulse was right behind him, his eyes scanning the room. In the dimly lit room, Zedaph's whines echoed softly, a testament to his discomfort. Skizz, ever the attentive companion, responded by sitting down and gently pulling Zedaph closer to him. Zed drew in Skizz’s sweet sent. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as Skizz slowly removed Zedaph's pajama shorts, revealing the tender skin beneath and dragging a finger across Zed’s hole.

Tango leaned in close to Zedaph, his warm hands gliding along the contours of Zedaph's stomach. The touch was soothing, yet it elicited a groan from Zedaph, a mixture of pleasure and pain. Tango, sensing Zedaph's need for connection, placed a hand on Zedaph's cheek, drawing him in for a tender kiss.

As their lips met, Zedaph felt a sharp nip on his lip, Zedaph opened his mouth and Tango pushed his tongue into Zedaph's mouth, deepening the kiss. Meanwhile, Skizz trailed his fingers along the mating bites on Zedaph's neck.

As Tango's grip tightened as he pulled away, the husky growl escaping his lips betrayed his frustration at the loss as he pulled away. Impulse, sensing the tension, deftly repositioned Zedaph, leaning him against Skizz's broad frame. Skizz's nimble fingers reached around, brushing against Zedaph's dick with a teasing caress. Zedaph's hips involuntarily bucked up in response, eliciting a chuckle from Skizz.

“Someone's eager,”

he whispered, his breath tickling Zedaph's ear. Tango, unable to resist the allure, moved to sit in front of the pair. With a swift motion, he grabbed Zedaph, while Skizz firmly gripped his own member. As Tango slowly lowered Zedaph onto Skizz's throbbing erection, a moan escaped Zedaph's lips, his body melting into the sensation that enveloped him. The heat in his stomach eased a bit. Tango got closer and pressed his dick to Zedaph’s hole aswell. Zedaph clenched his teeth at the strech. A guttural moan escaped Zedaph's lips as the fullness of their connection filled him. Tango's strong hands found purchase on Zed's hips, and he began a rhythmic thrusting motion that sent waves of pleasure coursing through his lover's body. Each thrust seemed to hit Zedaph's prostate with precision, eliciting a moan of ecstasy that echoed through the dimly lit room. Tango's own body responded in kind, and he found himself caught in a whirlwind of desire that threatened to consume him. The heat in his stomach eased with each thrust, replaced by a sense of profound satisfaction and fulfillment.

Skizz's fingers dug into Zedaph's slender waist, gripping him tightly as Tango's thick length filled him to the brim. The sensation of having both men inside him sent shivers down his spine, a symphony of ecstasy that resonated throughout his entire being. As Tango withdrew, leaving Skizz still inside Zed, the blond's hot cum dripped from Zedaph's engorged hole, a testament to the intensity of their lovemaking. Skizz gently picked Zed up and lowered Zedaph onto his back, his hands caressing Zedaph's hair, brushing away the sweat and that clung to his skin. The tenderness of Skizz's touch was a stark contrast to the raw passion that had just transpired, a reminder of the deep connection they shared. Suddenly, Zedaph felt the weight of hands pressing on his horns. He looked up to see Impulse's cock aligned perfectly with his mouth, a sight that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through his veins. Without hesitation, he opened wide and Impulse thrust in, the force of the entry sending a wave of pleasure through Zedaph's body. He had to force himself to relax his throat muscles to accommodate Impulse's girth, a challenge that only heightened the intensity of the experience. Impulse's relentless thrusts sent Zedaph's senses into overdrive. He could feel the heat of their combined bodies, the sound of their heavy breathing, and the musky scent of their arousal. Each thrust seemed to fill him up more completely, stretching his limits and bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy. As Impulse reached his climax, Zedaph felt a surge of hot cum flood into his mouth. He swallowed it greedily, savoring the taste and the sensation of pleasure that it brought. When Impulse finally pulled out, Zedaph was left breathless and trembling. His body still tingling from the effects of the orgasm. Skizz and Tango gathered around him, their hands gently stroking his skin, a comforting touch that soothed his frayed nerves. Zedaph looked up at them, his eyes filled with love and gratitude.

Zed began to curl into himself, feeling warm and satisfied. The comforting embrace of the moment was a stark contrast to the intensity that was about to follow. As he lay there, basking in the afterglow of their previous encounter, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. His body was still tingling with the remnants of pleasure, and his mind was pleasantly hazy with the lingering effects of their passionate encounter. But then, a hand gently but firmly pushed on his back, causing him to shift and lay on his belly. The sudden change in position jolted him back to reality, and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He knew what was coming next, and his body responded accordingly, his heart rate quickening and his breaths becoming shallow. As he lay there, he felt something hard press against his hole. The sensation was both familiar and foreign, a mix of excitement and trepidation that sent a wave of goosebumps across his skin. He knew it had to be Impulse, the one who had just given him so much pleasure. Impulse's presence was a comforting one, and Zed felt a sense of trust and safety in their hands. With a deep breath, Zed braced himself for what was to come. He felt Impulse's hand on his back, steadying him as they began to push in. The initial pressure was intense, and Zed couldn't help but moan in response. His body tensed up, and he felt a mixture of pain and pleasure as Impulse continued to push deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and Zed found himself lost in the moment. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and his body was a battleground of sensations. He could feel every inch of Impulse as they moved inside him, and the intensity of the experience was almost too much to bear. But despite the discomfort, Zed found himself craving more. He wanted to feel Impulse's presence, to be filled and consumed by their passion. He knew that this was just the beginning, and he was more than ready for what was to come. As Impulse continued to push in, Zed felt himself being pulled deeper into the experience. His body was no longer his own, and he was at the mercy of Impulse's desires. He surrendered himself to the moment, allowing himself to be swept away by the intensity of their passion. And as Impulse finally settled into place, Zed felt a sense of completion wash over him. The pain had subsided, and all that remained was the overwhelming sense of pleasure that coursed through his veins. He was lost in the moment, and he knew that he would never forget this experience for as long as he lived.

As he lay there, Impulse's powerful thrusts relentlessly pounded against him, each surge reverberating through his very being. The intensity of the sensation was almost unbearable, like a torrent of electricity coursing through his body. With each thrust, Impulse tugged roughly at the wool on his back, causing him to grit his teeth in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The overstimulation was overwhelming, threatening to engulf him in a maelstrom of sensations. The room was filled with a symphony of sounds, the rhythmic pounding of Impulse's body against his, the soft rustling of the wool, and the occasional gasp or moan escaping from his lips. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only served to heighten the intensity of the experience. As the moments passed, he found himself becoming more and more lost in the sensations, his mind and body completely consumed by the raw, primal energy that flowed between them.

In the dimly lit room, the air was thick with anticipation and desire. Impulse, with a determined look on his face, pressed himself all the way in as he climaxed, filling Zedaph with a sense of warmth and satisfaction. Zedaph clenched his teeth, bracing himself for the intense sensation, and then relaxed as Impulse slowly pulled out, leaving Zedaph with a sense of emptiness that was quickly filled by Tango. Tango, eager to take his turn, moved over and took Impulse's spot behind Zedaph. Without wasting any time, Tango thrust himself in with a forceful and rapid pace, causing Zedaph to gasp and moan in pleasure. As Tango continued his relentless assault, Zedaph felt a gentle touch on his back. He turned his head to see Skizz, his eyes soft with affection, slowly stroking his own erection. Zedaph smiled at Skizz, his eyes conveying a deep sense of gratitude and love. As Tango continued to thrust, his pace unrelenting, Zedaph felt a sharp pain on his neck. He looked down to see Tango's teeth sinking into the spot where he had left his mating bite. The pain only served to heighten Zedaph's pleasure, and he began to let out a jumbled mix of words and moans, his body trembling with the intensity of the sensations coursing through him. Skizz, sensing Zedaph's impending climax, moved closer, his hand still gently stroking his own erection. He leaned in and whispered words of encouragement and love into Zedaph's ear, his breath hot against Zedaph's skin. Zedaph felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him, a mixture of pleasure, love, and gratitude for the men who surrounded him. As Tango continued to thrust, his pace growing more and more frantic, Zedaph felt his own climax building, the pressure within him growing until it was almost unbearable. With a final, powerful thrust, Tango pushed Zedaph over the edge, and Zedaph let out a loud cry of pleasure as he came, his body shuddering with the force of his release. Zedaph then felt warm strings of cum hit his face as Skizz moaned.

As the room fell silent, the four men lay together, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating in unison.

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