#otherwise this wouldve never seen the light of day

[overkaffeinated]

First post ayyyyyy

This is a personal au of mine (that I may or may not write in the future), so enjoy ig?

[howlhawk]

'THE GUNSLINGER: WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR THE MURDER OF MAGNUM OPAL!'

In a tragic accident, Charlie Grimms - aka the Gunslinger, former villain turned anti-hero - kills the city's golden boy, Apollo Brighton - aka beloved hero Magnum Opal. How will he clear his name? Read this special issue of THE CHRONICLES OF SILVER CITY to find out!

[souryogurt64]

aw man why was the arctic monkeys concert…like that?

the main thing was that i literally just thought it sounded really bad, both the band and the venues sound. i felt like the vocals were really bad and i couldnt hear the bass at all which was compounded by the fact i felt like the guitar work wasnt very good. there was a lot of feedback at one point during the show (i think multiple tbh) which i feel vindicated that i wasnt crazy. idk how but i somehow felt like i couldnt hear anything (never felt like that at a concert before) and like it was hurting my ears.

this is not really about the show itself but the lineup procedure was very bad, drawn out and disorganized and there was a lot of cutting for something that took 2 hours and a ton of screaming to do “fairly”. i also felt like the people there were kind of awful, usually theres like a sense of at least fake camraderie when youre in line for hours but there was none of that, plus i was next to this group of girls who were shit talking their friend who had headphones in and couldnt hear them.

also it was the most invasive and over the top bag policy ive ever experienced. venue was also fugly and was also not in an awesome location in terms of transportation, what was around, and safety. there also wasnt enough staff around at all given what they were asking of us

ive also never considered myself to be sensitive to flashing before but the strobing during the show hurt. there was also basically no set design, props, or confetti/inflatables, creative lighting, fog, water, anything. most big rock acts ive seen (weezer, mcr, green day, fob, panic, etc) have used almost all of them plus pyro/fireworks/other sfx so i was pretty surprised. i wasnt super close to the stage but i feel like i wouldve noticed if they had. they also abruptly cut the walkout music mid-song after only about 90 seconds or so and turned the lights up to full blast (ow) which was also really jarring and then they turned the music back on after maybe 20 seconds which i felt (like the mic feedback) vindicated that i wasnt crazy and whoever running sound was kind of clueless

opener also wasnt good. there was only one opener which i was glad for given how bad it was but i felt like the wait times between sets were a bit much— i feel like other big rock shows ive seen have managed to do a lot more in the same or not much more time, like somehow squeezed in 3-5 bands. the opener was also a pretty small band, which was fine but all in all it felt like kind of ripoff given how much it cost-- the most important thing is how the headlining band sounds but that was. also real bad.

finally alex also seemed like a very uncharismatic and uncomfortable performer to a degree that was offputting, he also didnt look so hot in general -- not like attractiveness, i mean as slang for sickly haha.

i dont want to be a hater but no one goes into a rock concert of one of their all-time top streamed artists they paid hundreds and *wants* to feel like they need to cover their ears during the show lol.

i know i was pitching a fit about the fob wrigley show but it wasnt actually bad, i was just mad i couldnt hear the bass at all during headfirst slide, they played 3 covers and i didnt like my 8ball song . otherwise it was fine. but this was like legit for real unpleasant. ive gone to over like 60 concerts including seeing the arctic monkeys a really long time ago so i feel like i have a good metric for what concerts are like normally haha

[normal-thoughts-official]

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

[katzuyas]

blood drips from the fingers of the hand that suddenly rips through the flesh of the man who was bout to cut yuuri’s head off with one clean swing of his sword, and yuuri can’t exactly say he minds this sudden development. there is a clean hole in the man’s chest when he’s discarded to the side like a piece of insignificant dust, but yuuri’s too busy gazing at the one who saved him to look closer at all the gore.

because before him stands the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

it’s part admiration, part disgust that stirs in yuuri’s belly as he watches the man lift his bloodied hand to his lips and suck his fingers clean. something very disturbing seems to be happening before his very eyes, and yet... and yet, yuuri feels himself bewitched to the point of staying there and watching.

“did I scare you?” the man asks, licking his hand clean much like a cat. a hell cat. one of those feral beasts that feast on rotten flesh and--

“um,” yuuri swallows. “no?”

he’s risking it, he thinks, but when he considers it closer, it’s not really a lie that he gives in reply. he’s only partially scared. everyone would be after someone tried to kill them, and yuuri’s fear stems from that alone, it looks like. 

“oh?” the man cocks his head to the side. he looks at yuuri with bright blue eyes, which shine like gems and steal yuuri’s breath altogether. “so you aren’t scared of me?”

“should I be?” yuuri asks back, wondering where he gets the audacity to question a being who can rip through a human with enough ease as he just witnessed.

maybe it’s his close brush with death that’s given him the courage, or maybe it’s another feeling -- one of premonition of what’s to come -- that tells him his adventure into the land of the dead might not yet be far off, but yuuri finds strength in his limbs and lightness in his heart, so he stands.

and he looks the man in the eyes with no fear. “are you going to hurt me?”

the man seems to be as surprised at yuuri’s question as yuuri is at his own daring.

“hurt you? no!” he shakes his head and his silver hair flits about like spiderwebs on a light morning breeze. “why would you even think that? I’d never hurt you.”

“well,” yuuri clears his throat, looking to where the corpse of the man who tried to take his life has yet to chill. “that might have something to do with my question, but... if you aren’t here to hurt me... and you just saved me... then, how-- I mean, who are you? and why did you help me?”

the little breath that escapes from the man’s lips is much more hushed than a gasp. much more... disappointed, yuuri decides when he sees the crestfallen look on the man’s face.

“you don’t know,” comes the reply, and yuuri frowns.

of course he doesn’t? how could he--

“you called for me.”

“what?” yuuri blinks, surprised. “no, I didn’t. I would’ve known if--”

“but you did,” the man insists. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. you called me, or, well, your soul did? when humans come close to death their souls resonate, you see, and some of you have the strength to call one of us.”

humans, yuuri’s mind repeats as it reels. one of us.

“who... who are you?” he repeats through trembling lips.

the man’s smile is a slow thing, and it’s beautiful. it’s beautiful, but all of his handsome face is. it’s in his eyes that the beauty ends, or maybe, maybe that’s where it truly begins, because his blue gaze glows with power that is darker than any yuuri has seen.

he shivers when the man steps up to him, almost jumps in unease when he kneels. yuuri’s hand is taken and brought up to those smiling lips. there’s blood stains on his skin now, too, from the leftovers of his almost-killer, and yuuri’s stomach turns when he feels a kiss pressed to the inner part of his wrist -- right where his pulse flutters like a bird trapped in a cage against its will.

“I am nothing but your loyal dog, my liege,” the man whispers.

his warm breath settles in the palm of yuuri’s hand, distracting, but not distracting enough.

“my what?” yuuri asks. his voice comes out broken, so he clears his throat, and says again: “I don’t understand. how...?”

“you called upon me,” the man explains. “and I answered your call. I am now yours to command until the day you inevitably die.”

“but I didn’t,” yuuri insists, this time harder. he shakes his head. “I couldn’t have.”

“whyever not?”

the man peers up at him. he looks so perfectly poised while he continues to kneel at yuuri’s feet that yuuri trembles within himself from how beautiful it makes him. he knows he shouldn’t, but... he was already set to die tonight and he didn’t. so maybe luck was on his side, after all. maybe... maybe enough of it to let him get away with even more.

he slips his hand away from the light grasp and bows over until he can take the man’s face in his hands and set their foreheads together in faux gentleness. and he knows it instantly when the man realizes the change in the atmosphere around them, for those brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise that is heavily meshed with awe -- the awe that somehow makes yuuri feel powerful, more so than usual.

powerful, and stupid.

it’s that feeling that makes his brown eyes glow red, and it’s that feeling, too, which has him give the silky whisper of truth that only sparse few have ever heard:

“because I have no soul to call you.”

the man’s breath comes fast and hard, but he hears the truth in yuuri’s words, sees it in his inhuman eyes. gently, he turns his head towards the corpse of what must have been his intended master, the one that called him and the one he should’ve served, and yuuri lets him. he lets go.

“oh dear,” the man says, yet his voice does not indicate much upset about the way things have turned out. “I guess... I made a mistake? now that is no fun. I will need to head back to hell then...”

he stands up, but... he doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry. in fact, he looks as if he wishes for a reason to stay. something to keep him here...

“before you go,” yuuri says before he thinks twice about it. “thank you for saving me. I would have died if he succeeded, so whatever trouble you’re in because of that, I feel like I should help you. so if you, well, that is, there is little I can do, but if you need a place to stay or to lie low for a while--”

“really?” the man blinks, and then breaks out into a smile so dazzling that yuuri feels the urge to shield his eyes. “could I stay with you then? I’m in no hurry to return, honestly. it’s so... dreary down there, you know.”

“but won’t you be in trouble if you don’t, I don’t know, report this? at least?”

the man shrugs. “they probably already know. besides, I’m glad I did what I did. I’d rather serve you than that pile of--”

“you don’t even know me,” yuuri tells him, a little amused, but mostly just too surprised at the turn of events to be fearful.

“but I’d like to know you,” the man replies easily. as easily as he slides up to him. as easily as he takes yuuri’s hand again, and as easily as he wraps his arm around yuuri’s waist almost in a parody of a dancing stance. “I’d very much like to know you... all of you.”

blood rushes to yuuri’s cheeks like it never has before, but even though the night is dark, he’s sure that this man can see it. he’s standing so close that he must, and yuuri knows it when he takes in the smile on his lips: a quirked, playful little thing that brings even more heat to yuuri’s face.

“how can I make a decision like that if you refuse to answer any of my questions,” yuuri says, but his protest is a feeble one. he already knows that he will not be able to resist this man’s charms. not now, not ever, most likely.

“then ask again, and I shall give you whatever it is you wish for.”

the man brings yuuri’s hand to his lips again, but this time he chooses to rest a kiss on yuuri’s knuckles instead of his wrist. if possible, it seems even more intimate than before, and yuuri’s heart beats double inside his chest.

“your name first,” he asks, unable to lift his eyes from where the man holds his hand in a grasp that is far gentler than yuuri would imagine. “and, who are you?”

“victor,” the man breathes. “my name is victor. and I’m a hellhound who answers the call of a human soul ready for eternal damnation. but, for you, I will be whoever you wish me to be--”

yuuri shakes his head as he looks up, right into his eyes. “no. you are who you are, and you will be who you decide to be. I have no right to change that, or ask it of you.”

victor’s surprise is clear, surely he hasn’t expected this. something in yuuri softens at the sight and it’s that same something that chooses to rest his trust in this man -- in victor -- whom he only just met, but whom he feels like he was supposed to meet all along.

“I’m yuuri,” yuuri says, and smiles when victor’s eyes meet his again. “yuuri of the katsuki clan. and I’m a vessel of the the squid god of hasetsu bay. my soul has already been claimed, but, with what little of myself there is left, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, victor.”

“oh, I assure you, yuuri,” victor chirps, sweet and playful, “the pleasure is all mine.”

he kisses yuuri’s hand again, yet this time his lips linger on yuuri’s skin just a bit longer while silver eyelashes flutter as victor closes his eyes. he breathes in deep, which makes yuuri flush all over again.

he quickly realizes why victor has done it, though. he’s a hellhound. he must have been familiarizing himself with yuuri’s scent, so that he could recognize it among the many others. and yet, once he figures it out, yuuri’s blush doesn’t go away. it only deepens, and deepens still when victor peers up at him with a gaze that is far more smitten than yuuri could ever hope it to be.

“you... um,” he bites his tongue from how fast he wants to speak, and needs to look away as embarrassment churns in his throat. yet, looking away from victor is harder than anything he’d ever done, and yuuri soon finds himself glancing his way again. “you said,” he tries again, “you said that you’d like to stay here, yes? if you still do, then my parents have an inn not far from here. we all live there, so if you--”

“I’d be honoured,” victor confesses, voice and eyes soft.

and yuuri, as he leads him by the hand which victor refuses to let go of, cannot deny that his heart feels oddly soft as well.

he was meant to die this night, but instead he has found himself with this strange man, who makes him feel strange things, and strangest of all? he has found himself trusting him, caring for him, and... before the cherry blossoms sprout their petals as spring takes her first steps, he finds himself loving him -- a hellhound from hell, who appeared in his life bloody, and who made all the blood in yuuri’s body run that much faster.

a hellhoud, a man, who showed him that even without a soul life has enough to offer to live, to love, and to be loved.

the hellhound, the man, whom yuuri has given what little of his was left to give: his heart.

[idontevenknowmanidek]

"I wanna be a star!" Pt. 1: Audition

Life as a porn star was nothing like Nita expected. She thought it was all orgasms and easy money, but her company had her working hard. 2 workouts daily, heavily regulated diet, and filming everyday. The money was good though.

From day one, everything was different than she expected. When she went to sign up to a talent agency, she thought she'd be walking in to some sleazy building filled with gross old guys, not that that wouldve stopped her from moving forward with her "acting' goals. But the building she walked up to was a tall, sleek no-nonsense type place. It was all bright and shiny and everyone there looked hotttt. It was hard to tell who was an actor and who was an office worker. She walked in to speak to the receptionist, who was a sweet, bubbly young woman by the name of Lisa, and was directed up to the 7th floor. Thats were interviews were held.

In the elevator the sounds of smooth jazz filled her ears and set her at ease. "This is awesome!" She thought. In no time, she was walking out into a well furnished office. It was somwhow dark and comforting at the same time. A man sat at the desk in the middle of the room, scribbling on some papers, but the sound of the opening elevator alerted him.

"Ah! You must be Anita Paul. Come, sit down." He stood as she approached and shook her hand. "Would you like a drink?" He gestured at a glass pitcher on his desk and she nodded. Smoothly, he poured a serving into two glasses and placed one in front of her. She thanked him as she took the glass and took a sip, surprised to taste orange seltzer water.

"Good isn't it?"

"Mhm! Wow, that was super refreshing!"

"I'm glad you like it Anita. Now, lets get started. My name is Grant Downing, or Mr. Downing if you so please. Tell me, what brings you to us today?"

"Oh, well... I'm a performer. Its all I've ever wanted to do in life, be in front of a camera. But I like having fun. Being in a drama or a rom-com doesn't interest me much, they arent as fun as... Well, this."

"Interesting. Since you like being on camera so much, would you mind doing the next section while video taped? I just need to see how the camera reacts to you, see you in action, you know?"

"Oh that is absolutely no problem, Mr. Downing." Anita adjusted herself in her armchair, flipping her long, dark hair behind her ears and sitting up straighter, so her breasts poked out a bit. Meanwhile, Grant was setting up a small tripod beside his desk. A little red light began to flash, letting her know the camera was on and rolling.

"Now, I'm going to ask you a few more questions and then, I'll run you through some exercises. Sound good?"

Anita nodded and beamed at the camera.

"So Anita, have you ever had sex before?"

The question made her smile fade a bit. It was times like this that she was grateful for her dark skin, noone could see her blush, but it didn't stop her from feeling the heat riaing in her cheeks.

"No, sir." She said, quietly.

"What a surprise. A pretty girl like you, still a virgin and at 24. Why does a virgin want to be a porn star?"

" Uhm, well... I've never had sex with another person, but ive had plenty of experience with sex toys and the like. I'm a very curious person, you see. I'm also cautious, so while the opportunity has presented itself in the past, ive never done more than hand jobs and other forms of outercourse."

"Thank you for sharing Anita. Next question. What is your sexual orientation?"

Anita let out a sigh of relief at the change of topic.

"I consider myself Queer."

"So, you wouldnt mind having sex with a man or a woman, cis or otherwise?"

"Oh not at all, Ive had partners with all sorts of different identities. Nonbinary, cis woman, trans woman, etc. I do tend to lean more femme in terms of my attraction, but i have dated men and masculine folks as well."

"Good, I'm glad youre open to different things. So, how do you feel about roleplay?"

"I think I might be most excited for that! It'll give me a chance to show off my acting chops and I'll get to try something new all the time!"

"Do you have any hard limits?"

'Hmm.. Yes, i dont think I'd like to do too much with bodily fluids or anything too painful. I dont mind a little pain here and there, but I think if it were geared towards sadism and masochism, i wouldn't be into it as much."

"Noted." Grant said, reaching over and scribbling something. He glanced at his watch. "How do you feel, Anita?"

Anita paused for a moment and thought. She felt good. Really good. She was comfortable in the chair and in front if Mr. Downing. Anita wasnt a prude or anything, but she typically wasnt the most forthright when it came to sex and her body. She guessed ti was just because it was her boss... er, possible future boss, that she was tlaking to that put her at ease. Its a job for porn, there are no secrets, she thought

"I'm feeling great, Mr. Downing"

"Good. Now, I'm going to ask you to list out some of your fantasies for me. While doing this, you may begin to feel aroused and thats perfectly okay. If you want to, you can touch yourself while talking abt these fantasies, but only above the clothes. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Downing. Uhm, I geuss my biggest fantasy would be a gangbang... I love the idea of being used by multiple people at once. All those hands over my body." Anita shivered at the thought. The warmth that was once in her cheeks moved lower, to a very different part of her body.

"I also fantasize about being tied up to once of those siban things, and having to ride that for a long time, orgasm after orgasm ripping through me."

"Keep going Anita, tell me more."

By this point, she was dripping with desire, it was as though a faucet had been left on.

"Mmm. I like the idea of using a double sided dildo on someone. One side in me, the other side in them and I'm using it to fuck them. And every thrust I give them, i also feel. Sometimes in this fantasy, there's someone else behind me, hitting it from the back, thrusting in time with me." Anita had begun to rub herself over her slacks. Why did i have to dress sensibly?

"Stop." Mr. Downing barked out, and Anita immediately stopped speaking and masturbating. "Thats enough of your fantasies, thank you. The question part is now over, time for some exercises."

"Stand up with your arms out and give me a spin." Without hesitation, Anita stood and spun slowly for Mr. Downing to see her. "Anita, take your clothes off." In no time, she stood before him, her slacks and blouse, crumpled on the floor before her. As her hand began to reach for her bra, he stopped her.

"Thats more than enough. Kneel, Anita. Legs spread wide." She lowered herself to the ground, settling in the position he described.

"Now we are going to see how well you can act. Grope your breasts and moan."

Her hands began to snake up her body, grabbing and pulling at her breasts through her lacy bra.

"Mmm, Ohhh." Her nipples began to harden and poked at her hands.

"Louder! More forceful. Come on Anita, you've seen porn before."

Anita redoubled her efforts moaning more loudly.

"Unnff. Yeah! MMMM!"

"There you go! Here, take it and use it. Youve got the job if you can come in less than a minute." He handed her a thick vibrator which she gladdly accepted. Turning it on to the highest setting, she got to work and starting playing with herself, moaning wantonly the entire time. 45 seconds in, she came mindshatteringly hard.

"Welcome to the family Anita. Now, take the elevator down to the bottom floor, you'll get your onboarding papers and watch the training video there."

He helped her up and uahered her towarsa the elevator.

"But.. My clothes?"

"Oh you wont need them now" he chuckled. With a smile and a wave, he sent her on her way

[krusca]

A Concept:

mcu tony & comics clark kent (aka, the smol squishy human with one of the most powerful superheros of all time) 

(as transcribed and revised from my twitter thread. because i need more people to fall into this rairpair hell with me. handwaves the different universe and for the sake of this concept they’re single)

Clark Kent is deeply amused but also very impressed by this small human with a bad heart who sticks himself into a tin can and flies around at mach 5 speeds and keeps challenging him in unspoken races when flying despite knowing he’ll lose every time. 

Lets be real, mcu Tony is not a strong young healthy supersoldier or even someone who had the rigorous training lifstyle. He’s got tonys of health problems such as the injured heart, reduced lung capacity, liver problems from drinking, constant stress on his body from flying around in aforementioned tin can. And Tony’s mental state isnt that great either

But that doesn’t stop Tony one bit, and Clark sees everything he loves about humanity in Tony- brave, resilient, generous, stubborn, a bit annoying, and so so heroic. 

Clark can literally see tony’s weak heart, the lung capacity, the fake sternum (or arc reactor depends on what you prefer) the negative effects of constant G force on a body, and despite the armor’s protections the metal can’t absorb all the shock and sometimes does more damage than most people would think. His first instinct is to wrap him in blankets and keep him safe.....but he knows a man like Tony Stark would hate the coddling. 

Still that doesn't stop Clark from feeling protective, he winces every time Tony takes a hit because he can hear the joints and bones creaking and fracturing.

Meanwhile Tony has mixed feelings towards Superman. From a scientific standpoint, he’s fascinating, even moreso than Thor, stronger than Hulk, but he’s also scared of him, because Clark is someone who can see all of Tony’s weakness and imperfections (the physical ones at least), and when Clark starts taking a more vested interest in him the self conscious fear increases. He catches Clark’s worried glances, a look he interprets as judgement of being not good enough. He builds lead plating into most of his armors, he tries to avoid Clark as much as he can (especially one on one interactions. It doesn’t matter Clark says he doesn’t use his powers unless it’s necessary, Tony feels like Clark’s listening to his heart racing, the tightness in his shoulders, the fear of being seen as a fake a fraud)

Clark thinks Tony’s afraid of him and his powers, it stings a little but its much like Batman, the scientific and genius would have reason to fear him so he’s super gentle around Tony. Tony hates that even more, being treated with kiddie gloves, so he avoids Clark even more. Clark’s confused, wonders if its jealousy, in certain ways he reminds him of Bruce Wayne but this is a whole new level if it is jealousy (and that doesn't quite add up, Tony may talk about his ego but end of day Tony’s not jealous, he’s curious-  he marvels in new delights and bigger better shinier things. Clark has no idea its Tony’s crippling self esteem thats the issue)

One day Clark sees Tony doing some extreme remodeling of the workshop & he offers his help. Tony tries waving him away but a section of the wall nearly falls on Tony much to Clarks distress and Tony concedes Clark could be useful with the super speed strength flight and how to handle a hammer being a farmboy and all.

Clark’s never been in Tony’s workshop before, only seem glimpses. Seeing the holograms the half build machines, its all very impressive, different from kryptonian and other alien tech but still brilliant and intriguing like the scifi movies he used to enjoy as a kid. Tony’s cautious and guarded at first, but his workshop is his safe space and his domain so he lets loose bit by bit. Plus Clark is very helpful and replastering the walls in a fraction of a time it wouldve normally taken him. 

After tony’s done with all the security upgrades, he’s absorbed in his many projects again and barely notices Clark’s presence at this point. He’s flicking thru 3D holomodels making notes, and Clark doesn’t use his powers on his friends but hey he’s curious and takes a peek at the genius’s brain and he’s instantly blinded and captivated, its like looking at a thousand suns, every neuron firing at top speeds in multiple directions, processing several threads of thoughts at once (and I’m borrowing this aspect from 616 tony) yes Tony’s a genius but he’s also invaluable precisely because no one can multitask at such a high capacity level of genius at once. Clark’ has to look away because Tony’s mind is so bright and burns so hard he’s literally seeing stars in his eyes.

Tony sees him rubbing his eyes and Clark tells him its just dust and Tony’s skeptical can Superman even be affected by little things like dust. Tony hesitantly offers him dinner since Clark was so helpful and Tony’s not a bad host. Clark says yes quickly and really hopes he didn’t sound too overeager, he really wants to get to know Tony better. He always knew Tony was a genius but was always so overtaken by how small Tony was especially compared to the younger healthier heroes. Even Batman’s a genius but in a different way, he’s analytical whereas Tony’s genius is something else entirely, the kind of genius that can create elements, destroy and rebuild worlds, create life but a whole new kind.

Clark realizes how wrong he was, Tony isn’t weak at all, Tony’s mind is his true power and it’s something powerful, fearful, wonderful, breathtaking (clark wonders what it’d be like to have that kind of focus directed at him and gets a bit hot under the collar) 

They talk about various things over dinner, and Clark keeps peeking at Tony’s brain, its rude and kind of(?) a violation of privacy but it’s so pretty and Tony’s expressing everything that he’s seeing so yea he keeps looking. They get into topics of parents and he doesn’t need any superpowers to see how tony shutters up, his bright galaxy of a mind dimming at the bad topic. Clark apologizes, Tony brushes it off and moves to another topic, but Clark can see how his mind isn't as vibrant as it was before and it kills him a little, he wants Tony to be joyful and happy not..this. He cleans up dinner, thanks Tony, goes home happy to see Tony’s warmed up to him a lot.

Only after does Clark get home does he realize he may have a bit of a crush on Tony and stares at the ceiling all night. Tony thinks about Clark that night too, while working on Avengers upgrades. Clark’s polite, kind, sassy under that goody two shoes exterior, and a very attentive listener (a little bit too attentive? Clark looked a bit like a man in a desert staring at an oasis) Tony likes attention but that kind of naked adoration directed for hours from several hundred pounds of pure muscle and goodness is a bit overwhelming. He’s cut from the same cloth of Mr. Perfect like Steve but minus the sanctimonious aspect or the weird family ties with his dad so Clarks taken off Tony’s shit list.

Clark hovers again when Tony’s Iron Man, but holds himself back and lets Tony handle things. He sees how tony reacts badly when he tries to step in and help, Tony goes on building sprees and overworks himself, all an effort to show he’s valuable and not a liability while giving Clark the cold shoulder. Clark wonders if it really is just ego but despite appearances Tony’s not that shallow.

One December night Tony gets wasted in his lab and Clark can’t stay away, Tony’s BAC is dangerously high. Tony doesn’t take his presence well, shouts at him to leave, hurls insults and bottles, but Clark just walks forward slowly, approaching Tony like you would a spooked animal, until he’s close enough and asks Tony if he’d like a hug. 

Tony’s stunned into silence at this offer,  and he slowly leans forward into Clark’s chest. Clark can hear his heartbeat light and fast like a bird, as tony slowly falls apart in Clark’s arms. He’s drunk off his ass and telling Clark everything, his parents death anniversary, his dad who never loved him his mom who he loved so much, and Obie. Clark only happens to hear all of this because of his super hearing. Tony mostly mumbles and slurs his way through and he talks about his pathological fear of failure, not being good enough, and only being good for his usefulness otherwise he may as well be dead. 

Clark can’t believe the kind of self loathing tony was hiding, the fact his dad instilled that kind of though into his brilliant son, the loss and betrayal Tony’s faced, he’s Superman and he can’t do a damn thing, cept hold Tony, doesn’t want to say much in fear of saying the wrong thing. He carries Tony to his bed and tucks him in on his side, fetches painkillers and water for when tony wakes. He should leave but he can’t he sits at the edge of the bed and stares at the face of a man drowning in something dark and unseeable, but getting up anyways and changing the world every single day. He’s gone before Tony’s awake, calls his Ma because he doesn’t know how to handle this, tells her about his “friend” (she exposes his big fat crush for him within a minute into the conversation), she gives him advice, and Clark flies back to the tower with groceries. 

Tonys awake by the time he crawls out of bed, Clarks in the kitchen cooking breakfast (closer to lunch really) and Tony autopilot drinks the coffee and eats the food laid out in front of him until he semi-realizes what happened last night. things get awkward and Tony’s humiliated and embarrassed and Clark’s a big flustered baby who doesn’t know how to handle this situation either, so Tony pulls a retreat, gets out of his chair, thanks Clark for breakfast and walks out.

Clark is lost, he doesn’t want to lose the closeness he gained but it’s not like they can pretend it never happened. End of the day though he wants Tony to be happy and it doesn’t matter if Clarks part of the equation or not so he wants to let Tony choose.

Meanwhile Tony’s in full panic mode, he broke down in front of SUPERMAN the guy who treats him like he’s fragile, there’s no fixing this and Tony goes into burn all bridges mode, throwing himself into work and avoiding Clark at all costs.

Clark didn’t expect the sever all ties outcome (in retrospect its very tony) and it hurts a lot more than expected. He leaves a video message for Tony and flies off to the moon to pine. 

Tony doesn’t touch the video for 3 days until curiosity wins over the part of his brain thats screaming to abort and tells JARVIS to pull it up. It’s Clark talking to Tony, telling him (almost) everything, how much he respect his strength, bravery, generosity, how he never met anyone quite like him in all the galaxies and dimensions he’s been to, and he’d like the privilege of being Tony’s friend again, but if Tony doesn’t want him around he’ll respect that too.

Tony laughs because he’s... astonished (”JARVIS was that for real?” “Yes sir, I believe he was quite sincere” “The most powerful man in the world and he sends me a friendship letter via video”) Of course Clark can hear this and he’s a bit miffed but Tony’s laughing and not maliciously either so it’s ok. Tony says out loud “Hey big guy, I know you can hear me wanna come talk?” Clarks off the moon and in Tony’s lab in minutes, and Tony’s chuckling as he pats moondust off him. Tony tells Clark he’s a narcissistic fuckup and most people don’t stick around for long, but feel free to stay as long as he’d like and Clark’s ready to prove him wrong because Tony is just an amazing individual- Clark may protect humanity but Tony leads it to  new heights & he’s humbled that he can be by Tony’s side to see that happen.

so yea, tony stark and clark kent.

[ohkimani]

fuck it. anytime i talk to someone about this, they never take me seriously and im so sick of it. you say i can talk to you about anything that im feeling but im telling you this shit is really fucking me up and the most you can say is some shit like ‘wow sorry’ or ‘omg that’s crazy’ like i get it, sometimes you dont have shit to say but damn. or if i do start ot talk about it or something else with anyone, i get cut off because something else is more interesting or what ever you say is more interesting. this is why im always posting so much on this damn site because i cant get interrupted when im typing. this is why if i ever feel some type of way, i dont say anything until im t h i s close to killing myself because what’s the point anyway? what are you going to say to make me feel any better. what can i say to you to make you feel better. i feel like a failure of a person if i have to go to you about what i feel because now not only am i giving you my sadness and my deadweight (tainting your life, basically) but im also admitting to my own weakness and as a black young woman i cant afford to do that any more than i have in the last two years. so you know what? if this post is already too long for you then keep scrolling. otherwise, listen the fuck up because im gonna tell you how im pretty sure i have ruined my whole ass brain with some wacky shit.

*fstfwd to the part where im walking from the dorms to the track* 

at first im cool, you know? im really chilling like having a blast until suddenly i feel that like dehydrated feeling where everything gets bright af and im a little dizzy. so i take a pause on the brick wall next to the sidewalk. i think classes have just let out for the afternoon so a good amount of people are walking by me. i still feel that ‘i havent had any water all day but im gonna do this super hard workout’ feeling as im sitting on the wall. then i look at people, and theyre all looking directly back at me (in hindsight, they weren’t) but when i blink, they turn their heads in slow motion away from me. now im getting worried. so i stand up slowly and make my way further down the hill towards the track. now i only see three people....but i keep seeing the same three people. i cant feel my body at all anymore now. not in like a ‘numb’ way but more like, my being has become the air around my body instead of my body itself. im walking on a treadmill now but the treadmill is made out of the sidewalk ive been walking on. everything is passing me but ive been walking in place for what seems like centuries. the guy in the red shirt passes me a fourth time and this time i make eye contact. as i look at him, his head splits into two different heads and they start to twist around each other. i try to ignore it because i know that any sort of freak out will not end well, so i pretend it’s normal and keep walking. i’ve finally made it to the crosswalk somehow and the sun is beaming on my arms. the heat feels different. it feels more like my skin is just different where the sun is hitting it. so i look up at the sun and the sky starts turning purple. again, i act like it’s normal. the same guy who’s head just split into two is standing next to me now as the crosswalk light tells us the cross. now im walking down the hill, still on the treadmill while ‘confidently lost’ keeps playing in my earphones. i lose track of what i hear normally and what’s in the song which is why im confused when this girl (one of the only three people i kept seeing on my walk) comes up to my other shoulder. she looks like a normal student, brown hair in a ponytail with super duper green eyes. like vegetable green. i dont take my earphones out but she looks at me and says “well....this is it”. and she keeps walking in front of me. a few steps later i start thinking she means death. then i start freaking out as im processing that i died and im trapped on our campus for eternity, walking on the same treadmill forever. then i start thinking maybe im in some sort of coma and there is a world outside of the one im living in. i go along with this idea. everything starts moving slower though and it’s scaring me because i see every phase of the movements. i move my hand in front of my face and i see 10 of them go by until they turn into one. i keep doing this until the trees around the walkway start bending and twirling in my way. (anyone on the outside wouldve seen me climbing over nonexistent small fences). the song is still playing and it’s driving me crazy because i dont know if i actually hear birds chirping or not. after wrestling and climbing my way through trees, i find myself at the track. i look up and the sky is still purple but the track itself is starting to rotate. i see som many people moving at once and it’s scaring me. it’s scaring me a lot that all of these people have the ability to move so much and i dont. so i turn around and walk to the locker room. i lay down on the couch and people filter in and out. no one really questions what’s wrong with me just laying there in normal, non-athletic clothes, staring at the wall (another concern we’ll address later because at least i know if i do off myself no one will actually care) except for ashley who assumes ive been crying because my eyes are bloodshot and swollen. some friends come in and just think im ignoring them talking to me about their problems, etc. i dont say anything. so i close my eyes (at least i think i do) everything goes black, like curtains have dropped and i see little bits of things that i thought i forgot from my life literally fly by me. like super quick trailers. then four circles appear at the end of a tunnel thing that was formed by these scenes and they start spinning around themselves. im aware of everything happening within my body at this point. i can feel every drop of blood inside me. my heart is beating slower than i recall it ever beating and when it does, it’s one hard pound against my chest. the air conditioner in the locker room turns on and i can tell because it’s making every nerve stand on end and the goosebumps raising from my skin are excruciatingly painful because i can feel them rising. like the intensity of everything my body was doing was just.......too much to handle. i start thinking “wait is this death or did i already die? is this official death?” and then i black out and come to when im at my apartment door and im unlocking it. i have no idea when i got here or when i made the decision to come here but here i am. i check the time on my watch “13:42″ and then go to sleep. i wake up and it’s dark outside. i check my phone and apparently ive had an entire conversion with my coach who was concerned after seeing me walk to the gate and turn around and a few random snaps, etc. i have no idea what happened. i start questioning which reality im supposed to exist in and i start wondering if the one ive been living in all along has been a hallucination. and the other day when i experienced pretty much the same thing again, it was a bit different because this time, my realities kept changing. like when you walk from one room to another, that’s how i would feel looking from one object to another. i dont ever want to feel this again but it’s obviously had some lingering affect because every now and then ill see something in my vision that i know isnt there, i wont process things ive done until way later (like responding to my boss today at a meeting. i didnt process that i said something to her until she was responding because in my head i was like ‘why is she talking to me rn’. ill be doing my usual walks and i’ll start feeling like im on a treadmill again. i dont know if it’s an out of body thing or if that’s what dissociating really is.....idk but it’s fucking scary because it feels like my entire being keeps leaving my physical being for brief seconds. that’s my story. that’s all i have wanted to say to people who pretend to care.

[minidog]

Hi i hate writing this is on ao3 too

they were kids once.

there were summers spent without a care in the world. hazy memories of when they were simply boys, dirtying their church clothes in spite of their mothers warnings from playing in the dirt. it kicked up in clouds in the air as they screamed and squealed with delight, bonding in the way only children can. no one knew one anothers names, or their parents, their favorite colors, their fears, their hopes, and somehow sparring with sticks fashioned into swords was enough to feel like theyd known each other for thousands of years.

it was a time before girls were talked about only in relation to the size of their breasts or the length of their dresses, before adults built walls with talk of sanctity and virginity. somehow, they all seemed to look happier when it wasnt dictated what constituted as a 'girl game' or a 'boy game'. theyd play pretend with the other children until the sun started to make its way down the sky and their parents called them home for dinner.

thea never liked how he played. it was a hot day, and even though the suns rays beat down relentlessly on them, she insisted they leave for the creek where the others were surely splashing about. "god forbid we become hermits, hanschen," shed said. she was the sort of young girl to have no qualms with using the lords name in vain, and the sort of young girl who enjoyed throwing words like 'hermits' to make her brother feel stupid. they were at the creek, and hanschen watched from underneath the branches of the old oak as his sister, dirt and sand caked on her chubby face, chased martha and otto into the water. she was pretending to be a great white shark, which neither of the kids wouldve known since she only referred to it by the latin name she found in an encyclopedia a week before, while the other town kids watched with mild interest before deciding to incorporate her odd shtick into their own fantasy worlds.

she spun around when martha and ottos feet hit the water, followed by heavy splashing as they sprinted through the shallows, sun-bleached blonde hair whipping across her shoulder. she stomped over to him, brown eyes the coldest glare a six year old could possibly muster. he looked up, unimpressed, crossing his arms across his chest. "what?"

"what?" she mimicked him. "do you intend to be so insipid?"

he decided against asking her what insipid meant and where on earth shed ever heard it before, instead looking up at the young girl with a thoroughly unimpressed stare. "only if it makes you mad," he told her. it was his duty as her twin.

suddenly, she hauled hanschen up to his feet with superhuman strength and pushed him so hard he stumbled into the creek. the cold water shocked his entire body as he fell backwards, soaking his clothes quickly. hed have screamed if his head didnt go under for a brief few seconds, instead coughing water hed inhaled on accident. all to the amusement of thea and the others, of course.

his arm stung from abrasions courtesy of the rocks under the water, and when he held it up for inspection, spots of bright red blood had already began to run down his forearm. even as a child, he was more annoyed than anything else.

he drew his eyes away from his scraped arm to give thea a pointed glare, but she was no where to be found, evidently disappeared once her game with martha and otto picked up again. instead he met the eyes of another boy, one hed seen around often. hed been writing something with a branch broken from a tree as hanschen could see from the dipping lines in the earth. usually he was spotted with another young boy, tugging him by the hand and always yapping a lot of variations of "moritz" and "stiefel" at the poor kid, but today hanschen noted he was alone.

his eyes sparkled green in the sunlight, narrowed as he looked at him. his coarse wavy hair was parted neatly on the left but otherwise seemed to stick up everywhere, sticking to his forehead and shaped by the wind. he wore sunday clothes, even though it was a thursday, either because he was stuck up or because he owned nothing else, hanschen couldnt tell.

hanschens arm dropped back into the water, his cuts stinging from the cold. he raised a brow. the boy on the shore waved back.

after that, they werent best friends. they didnt build forts out of sticks and mud or skip down the road hand in hand. in fact, they seemed to be at constant odds, even when their opinions were limited to the small world they knew as children. hanschen and melchior were electromagnetic. it took him a long time to realize it was attraction, not repellent, that had them clashing.

has them clashing. they continue to find their way to each other no matter how hard they try to stop it.

"youre thinking?" melchior asks.

"mm. reminiscing." he tries to avoid looking at the boy - man is a more accurate descriptor, its been a decade since he had been a kid writing words at the creek - but ultimately fails, distracted by the way the stray strands of hair shimmer in the moonlight, like silver thread.

he thinks the first time he realized he was different was in his earlier years of school. his childhood summers had ended and hed been introduced to the world of education, an unsavory thing that had him confined to a single room for hours on end, watching an adult wear chalk thin on a dusty blackboard. it was not only his first introduction to academics like math and science, but his first introduction to gym.

gym was hell in hanschens opinion. there was no studying to help him, and to be graded solely on his skill frustrated him to no end. hed spend hours out throwing around a ball, muscles screaming in agony, before being released to the locker rooms to shower in a room full of sweaty boys like himself.

the water was always hard and cold, striking his back like a whip. he thought all the other boys looked, too. he thought all the other boys dropped their eyes from faces to bodies, not to compare themselves mentally, but just to look. when he said something of that account, he quickly realized that assumption was wrong. then he told himself he was simply observant, because in order to survive he had to be sharper, didnt he?

he gathered information like this. for example, georg was the first to sprout dark, coarse hairs in a line from his navel. moritz looked at his feet and remained silent, and his awkwardness only grew when his body followed suit, and like the click of a light, hanschen started seeing the effects the regular physical activity had on his body; his stomach was no longer soft, his arms and legs no longer sticks awkwardly tacked on to his lanky body. his masculine v stirred something like envy in hanschens stomach. and ernst had the nicest cock; it was prettier than any of the other boys. he caught him staring once and hanschens face felt so hot he thought he might be burning from the inside out. he was just jealous was all. he wasnt the ideal and they were.

self-loathing and attraction always seemed to blend together for hanschen. he truly did feel insecure in his own skin surrounded by boys hed known since childhood whod suddenly become sculpted by the gods. he also definitely wanted them to pound him so hard he forgot his own name. so that made things confusing.

"when did you first realize you liked boys?" hanschen asks.

"i dont. i didnt," melchior says, shutting him up quickly. hanschens gaze darts away from the other boys face and he swallows hard. hes not a stupid boy, but somehow he allowed melchior gabor to weasel his way into his life.

he knew this is what would happen, and yet he still let melchior get to him. he still felt butterflies swarming in his stomach around him, especially whenever they were doing anything domestic. then he could pretend they were married or something, like they were a couple, a real couple, and it reduced him to an eager little boy again, curious and happy and excited, all the sorts of emotions that dulled through the years. hes allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of melchior gabor and he hates himself for it.

he feels melchiors soft hands on his face, forcing him to look at him again. his chest still rises and falls heavily, though now at regular intervals, and the post-orgasmic daze makes him look like an angel sent from heaven. he kisses him, hard, lips soft and firm against his own. hands move to the back of his head, grasping at his tousled hair, soon becoming tangled in the locks of blond. he wonders if melchior thinks about how their lips fit like pieces in a puzzle. wonders if he can taste the cum as his tongue passes over his parted lips, if he minds. wonders if he even thinks at all.

melchior pulls away first, running his hands through hanschens hair a few times before bringing his right hand and using his thumb to wipe cum from his chin, then the stray saliva on his bottom lip. "you missed a spot," he says instead of acknowledging the intimacy at all. its not surprising because its what he always does. hanschen rolls his eyes.

"ive been thinking," melchior says.

"youve been thinking..." hanschen repeats.

"about wendla. wendla bergmann. from when we were kids. from church."

"wendla bergmann. thea says she has the best hair. whatever that means."

"i think ill grow to fancy her," melchior continues, ignoring the anecdote entirely. "i think she could be something. wed definitely be something. perfect, really."

"im glad you decided on a wife while you were busy fucking me," hanschen snaps. the very real annoyance and hurt is lost on melchior, who simply laughs at him.

"shes kind. and pretty. and i think intelligent, too," he goes on.

"why are you telling me this, again?"

he gives him an odd look. "were friends, arent we? dont friends talk?"

"you have stiefel for talking, dont you?"

"do i only have to have one friend?"

"i cant imagine you could manage to score more than one." hes only half-joking.

"i like talking to you," melchior points out.

except, he doesnt. hanschen knows he doesnt, because it wouldnt hurt this much if he did. he was lonely, and melchior was there, melchior who was only horny and bored. who is still only horny and bored. hanschen swallows the poison in his mouth hard, bites his tongue because he knows he asked for it. he asked to be used. melchior is the first boy hanschen loved, and the first boy that destroys him, too. sometimes its how things are. it surely beats being alone.

"i know." hanschen kisses him again, only to make him stop talking, only to feel his skin on his before he disappears completely.

[isaacathom]

also i spent most of last night accidentally trying to figure out the logistics of how the ghost-y things work in the light realm and then accidentally how the fuck a ghost could actually have a child????? because like. surely Losa doesnt actually let that happen. she finds the souls of the dead, gives them a small fragment of her soul, and carts them off. she doesnt let them have children????? for obvious reasons?????? surely ghosts cant have kids. so then how the fuck does alexa bear calar’s child????? she is a ghost?????

which then lead into a fucking rabbit hole.

the ultimate conclusion was that Losa gives fragments of her soul to the dead because otherwise they cannot survive in her realm (with the identical being true of Dalace, much to her dismay). but, well, royals already have god souls. quartaian royals have elra’s soul, and the Lune kingdom royals have xen’s soul. then the southern isles have caliyos. those are the major royal groups. there are technically ‘dalace royals’, which are her cultists, but thats.... a whole different matter.

so if you’re a royal with a tie to any of themajor deities, and you die, you then have TWO god souls. which is hardcore. So Alexa isin fact a minor royal from Lune, who died in an explosion of its capital city alongside her entire royal branch, neatly severed from the royal tree. this partly explains whyCalar has absolutely no idea who she is - she’s just a faceless noble. and she doesn’t exactly disclose this information to him, because she’s somewhat reasonably concerned he’ll treat her differently if he knows she’s part of the old nobility.  So she has a fragment of Xen’s soul.

in addition to this is Calar. Calar is just a peasant. he would have a latent magic, most humans do, but its either non-god originated or excessively diluted. he’s just a dude. however, he’s on a year long expedition in the light realm, which losa has actually consented to. But the light and dark realms are toxic to mortals. and so, in order to keep tabs on him and make sure he doesnt fucking die, losa has loaned part of her soul to calar. so on thetable we have a fragment of Xen’s soul and two fragment’s of Losa’s soul.

which is great and all. but, yknow, alexa died young, and she was a sheltered noble, and calar is a nice young man, annnd before anyone really thinks too hard about potential consequences the two have slept together. and i mean. hey. souls physicall manifest in heaven. something about losa’s soul. i dont know.

and thats fine. its probably not the first time a living person has fucked a ghost. i imagine a lot of people in the more magical eras ventured to the land and tried to have one last night with their dead lovers, to varying degrees of success depending on how nice they were to Losa beforehand. but in those cases, the love making was often the explicit purpose of the trip. theyve come to see their loved ones and have one last night before going back to the mortal realm. its not real bother. go for it! fuck the ghost! and they’ll explain this to losa beforehand. losa goes ‘hey the fuck are you doing in my kingdom’ ‘i wanna fuck my wife one last time’ ‘yea alright just leave before noon tomorrow alright?’ ‘sweet’.

but calar is here for a different reason. and losa did grant him that ability. she said ok, you can stay for a full year, gathering culture and knowledge. but then hegoes and fucks a ghost. a royal ghost. god dammit.

so losa’s kinda peeved when she does find out about it, but she decides its not really that big of an issue - humans fucked ghosts all the time back in her day, yknow - and so everyone moves on with their day.

except a few months later, its obvious that this ghost is pregnant. what the fuck do they do?????????? they go to losa, and she’s dumbfounded. h-how??????? uhhhhh. in essence, alexa having two god souls gave her a higher degree of ‘corporeality’. losa specifically tailors her soul fragments to not confer that sort of trait. but xen’s soul, which alexa also possesses, does not have that feature. so when xen’s mixed with losa’s, they sorta..... messed with the settings. which mean alexa was, for all intents and purposes, a living immortal. and this is true of most royal ghosts, or the ghosts of anyone who has been given more than one god soul for any reason (champions and dalace’s cultists, or ryaris’ wife Evelyn are good examples). and thats usually not an issue, because their partners arent also living immortals. like, theres a slight difference, i guess. even two royal ghosts getting it on probably wouldnt end up having a kid. because theres that slight element missing - being actually alive?? or a desire for kids. or smth like it.

but then calar comes along. a living hunk. unlike most ghost fuckers, he has a fragment of losa’ssoul because he’s staying long enough that the light realm would fuck him up if he didnt. and so you combine the two and suddenly Whoops???? ohdear.

its really uh. ill defined? it probably works on a rose quartz sort of logic. that gods arent naturally designed to bear children, but they CAN. this is true of ryaris, who did the magic bullshit so that she and evelyn could both have kids. and for a weird living immortal ghost, like any of the royal ghosts, that same thing is true, to a degree. but they usually dont know how to consciously manipulate that. alexa definitely do it deliberately. it was.... more a subconscious thing. see, two royal ghosts could fuck, but they likely wouldnt bear children because they know that ghosts Cant. the two both being ghosts means they subconsciously know its impossible, and they basically cock block themselves. everyones working off the logic that ghosts cant have kids, and so no ghosts can have kids. but alexa just sorta.... forgot??? in part because living humans coming to the light realm became exceptionally rare after all the gods decided to leave the realm of man alone, which actually wouldve happened shortly after Alexa died. so Alexa hasn’t actually learned this fact? when it comes to living humans??? because it wasnt explained to her. Losa never told them not to get nasty, and so never warnedthem. thats part of it, too - whenever people in grief came for a last night, Losa would explain some rules. and that kept shit orderly. but calara and alexa didn’t get those rules, and alexa has never heard them before...... so........ you know........ accidentally pull a rose quartz and make yourself capable of bearing a fully living child??????? whoopsies.

its extremely ill defined. which is half the point. like......... its a fucking weird occurence. like oh, GREAT, a fucking ghost is going to give birth to a living child, alright, fantastic, just what we’ve all wanted. losa’s really not into it. but she saysits fine as long as the news doesnt get out. which means basically as soon as its safe to take the kid away, calar must do so. even if it means cutting his year long expedition short, he MUST leave with the child as soon as possible. alexa won’t be punished, per se, but she’s not allowed to tell anyone about it. which really sucks for her, honestly. die in your twenties because your kingdom was taken over by a vengeful fire goddess and then the city gets blown up, then spend 200 years as a ghost before meeting a cute boy, accidentally getting pregnant and then never being allowed to see your child??? shits fucking rough. like, damn. losa probably let her leave to watch him a little, but his signal basically vanished after calar’s house burnt down. and while alexa has seen calar, and calar has explained what happened, neither of them have actually seen Skye since them. Naten’s arrival like 5 years later explains that, to his knowledge, his brother is still alive. but when naten (specifically naten) gets leave to go see if he can actuallyfind him, he finds that he’s run away fromhome and his signal is still dark. so thats nice.

its a big mess forthe whole family. not to mention that after Calar’s house burns down and everyone except Naten+Skye die, Calar rocks up in heaven and wow. its his wife and his girlfriend. his wife pre-deceased him by a few years, and she’d come across a concerned Alexa. and now theyre here for some.... explainations. alexa didnt even know calar had a wife and kids????like she had NO idea. and his wife genuinely assumed thatSkye was an orphan whom Calar had bonded with. so...even though alexa isnt supposed to like. say anything??? she kinda has to. mostly because she’s kind of pissed about not being told. given shes from 200 years ago, the culture was sorta different. cheating? noooo dude. so you feel that.

uhhh tl;dr alexa has two godsouls and accidentaly rose quartz-d a womb because she didn’t really think about it? and thats how skye became one of, if not the only, known light demigod. thanks and goodnight