#<-would be exactly this incoherant regardless

[sunnnfish]

I know you said don't worry about it but I am a chronic worrier so do you wish to elaborate on that fabiniku shirashiro au you mentioned

WELLLL IF YOU INSIST... twirling hair evilly. so first up fabiniku is short for a manga series Fantasy Bishojo Juniku Ojisan to. translated to. deep breath. Life with an Ordinary Guy Who Reincarnated into a Total Fantasy Knockout. or other such translations. dont know if you know what fabiniku is so we're gonna explain it wheeeee.

so basic plot, maybe inferred from the title. these two guys in their 30s are like best friends who often go out drinking and go to mixers and all that and one of them is all like. i wanna get a giirrrlllllfriieennddd <- drunk in the bathroom while his friend comforts him. hope youre already recieving the shirashiro mindbeams. two hopeless romantic friends etc etc. and then. i forget exactly how we get to this but drunk sopping wet pathetic one (tachibana is his name) ends up saying like. i just wish i was a girl! or something to that effect. which catches the attention of an otherworldly god who takes it so literally and brings them both to this fantasy world in which tachibana has been turned into a drop dead beautiful and cute girl and his best friend is just still in his office suit. (jinguuji is his name). shenanigans ensue! highly recommended its so fun and interesting and subtly(?) queer. central themes of love and saving people. theres traumatic backstories and everything. really recommend just reading it.

BUT. shirashiro slots soooooo well into this setup it makes me genuinely sick. shirahama and tashiro still going to mixers from their office jobs because they just cant land a goddamn girlfriend. shirahama drunk and sick in the bathroom, tashiro with a hand on his back and throwing his arm over his shoulder to walk them home. shirahama, drunk, wish i was a cute girl! drop dead gorgeous! at least people would love me. transported to a fantasy world, shirahama gets to turned into a cute girl, not that tashiro is necessarily jealous, thatd be silly. she is really cute though. and shirahama, girl, shorter than tashiro for once, looking up like. has he always been this cool...? wait who said that.

theres also this whole bit where tachibana, girl, is a bit cursed with being so pretty that it literally charms any men in a however big radius. which jinguuji does sometimes fall victim to and it shows a little [<3 charmed] effect above his head. putting things together in my head This is also a bit like dating sim au. anyways. and theres this whole inner turmoil like Wait she may be cute but i know hes really just a guy. guys im so bad at explaining thiinnngggsss theres so many facets. read fabiniku.

theres also just so many moments in fabiniku that just line up. theres a bit about jinguuji letting his hair down and it was insanely tashiro coded. theres the way jinguuji is so observant but reserved. the character developments make sense. really truly just read fabiniku with shirashiro in mind and youll see it.

also like. look at them. come oonnnn.

theres also adjustments ive made in my head about their backstories n stuff but that would be so spoilery. once again: read fabiniku. im really bad at explaining things. just imaging me pointing and gesturing frantically and making weird noises. whatever. peace and love on planet shirashiro

[meiieiri]

when do we get to see megumi in your new series ^3^

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | art: @/amulin67 on twt/ig | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: n/a | a/n: finally welcoming megumi to this series, yay! 💓💞

“I’m just gonna go nap for a bit. Promise me you’ll wake me up if something happens. But either way, his bottle is over there, just heat it up when he gets hungry and you know where his diapers are—“

You are interrupted by a sweet kiss that still manages to catch you off guard ‘till this day.

“I wasn’t done, you know.” You place your hands on your hips, shooting him a warning glance. “And don’t you go tossing him too high. Need I remind you, our apartment has a literal ceiling fan—“

“—You worry too much,” Toji cuts you off again with another kiss. “Not gonna lie though, seeing you all worked up like that is kinda turning me on.”

“You’re horrible,” you conclude. Honestly, at this point, almost anything and everything you do can be classified as a thirst trap for Toji. You blush when Toji inches closer, his hips pressed against yours, a smirk plastered on his face when he sneakily squeezes your ass causing you to yelp. “Ah! Toji!” you swat his hand away, burying your blushing face in his chest.

Chuckling at you, he plants a soft kiss on your temple as he pulls away. “Alright, mama, go get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you.”

No one ever told you that motherhood would be so stressful. Which is why you’re so blessed to have a supportive husband who may have started out a little awkward with caring for your newborn son but gradually became a natural with this whole fatherhood business as time went by. And that’s mostly because when Megumi arrived in this world at half past two in the afternoon of December 22 with nothing more but a small hiccup as he slipped into his papa’s waiting arms, Toji fell in love. And you don’t pretend to not know why. Because whenever you look at Megumi, your heart always just seems to melt at his pudgy rose-colored cheeks and his deep expressive green eyes that fill up with tears regardless if he’s crying or being overcome by a laughing fit whenever you pepper his tiny face with kisses.

Speaking of kisses, today’s latest fiasco is centered exactly on that: kisses.

You see, you have this habit that goes way back to when you and Toji first started dating. Toji remembers it well, you have certain moods when it comes to kisses. Sometimes, you’re the one initiating it which mostly results in Toji becoming an incoherent blushing mess, or most times, Toji gets the party started by slowly kissing up your neck, his breath hot on your earlobe as he presses his hips against yours while you slept fitfully, your hushed dulcet whines ringing in his ear as your lips instinctively find each other. Fun fact: that’s exactly how Megumi came to be.

But there are times too, when you were just not having it and you’d gently nudge Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you.

It was a typical afternoon. Toji didn’t have work that day which was a huge relief for him because you’ve been suffering from dizziness and lower back pain all day. And being the helicopter partner and soon-to-be papa that he is, Toji keeps a close eye on you as you nap the afternoon away on the couch. He smiles softly as he sees you instinctively put a protective hand over your belly whenever you’d feel the slightest movements from the baby.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he’d whisper to you as you slept, combing his fingers through your hair, a permanent worried frown on his face when a whimper falling from your pursed lips as the baby kicks you again. “It’s just the overgrown parasite fidgeting around.”

“Don’t call him that.” You brush his hand away, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort.

Toji chuckles, going to press a kiss to your soft lips only for you to place your entire palm on his face, applying gentle force to pry him away. “I mean, what is he then? Other than this thing that competes for your nutrients? He’s—“

“—Our baby boy.”

“—An overgrown parasite.”

Fuming at his words, you decide to hit back with a quick retort of your own. “Yeah? It really does take one to know one, huh?”

“What a cute comeback but maybe not as cute as you,” Toji smirks, his hand gently removing your smaller one from his face, his lips puckered up as he leans in. Teasingly, you place a hand over your lips, still refusing to indulge him with his much-craved kisses. “Come on, I just want one sloppy one~”

“No!” Your laughter-filled voice comes out muffled against your palm.

“Mm, yes,” Toji teases. “Yes. Come on, baby, just one.”

“You and I both know it’s never just one.”

Of course. Why else would you be in this situation if Toji knew how to spell the words: self and control? Still, it’s not like the two of you were complaining. After all, the bond you and Toji share is an unbreakable one that’s only been strengthened by time and the many trials you’ve survived together. And now, the arrival of the very product of your love is only a hair’s breath away. Toji rests his chin on top of your head, plopping down next to you and spooning you from behind. “Guilty as charged.”

And unfortunately, it seemed your son had inherited that troublesome quirk of yours and it’s beginning to break Toji’s infuriated heart because whenever he tries to give Megumi a kiss…

“Mmph—“

There it was.

Toji’s eyes shot open, grimacing as Megumi turns his head away, his eyes trained stubbornly on his dog plushie, and his chubby hands pushing his poor papa’s chin away with all the might a six-month-old like him could muster. And to top things off, he must be imagining things because newborns surely couldn’t scowl right? Their tiny little brains couldn’t possibly have enough electrical energy to charge a snow globe much less, learn how to hate certain people’s kisses.

“You little shit—“

Sure enough, the tiny little baby seems gravely unamused, his eyebrows are knitted, the corner of his lips curled into a disappointed frown as if to say: Go kiss someone else, you even bigger shit.

Toji mirrors the unfriendly scowl on his son’s face, noting how Megumi seems to be glaring at him. Oh, okay. The brat ain’t messing around, his eyes twitches but somehow, Toji is also a picture of a proud father. At least the little shit’s got spunk. And he wonders momentarily who he should blame for that.

Definitely not him, that’s for sure.

Toji doesn’t recall the last time he’s ever had the comforts of a peace like this one. Actually, this might just be the first time that Toji knew what that word meant: “peace”. A freedom from disturbance; tranquility, as per the Merriam Webster Dictionary. But Toji has a better definition for peace: you and Megumi.

But…

“I meant what I said to your mother though,” Toji engages in a one-way conversation with his son. He won’t recall any of this, but it didn’t hurt for Toji to be candid about his feelings every now and then especially when it came to this little one that came accidentally into your lives but brightened it up nonetheless. “The two of you would be better off — maybe even happier — with someone else.” He presses his thumb against Megumi’s cheek. “It’s what you two deserve.”

He’s been gone close to a whole day now and you were probably beginning to worry. Out of all the shitty things Toji has done, this, by far, has to be the shittiest. Standing outside a pachinko den, his back pressed against the wall, and his hand absentmindedly playing with the tokens he just bought. When he left the apartment that day, you knew that could very well be the last time you ever see him. Types like him aren’t keen on the whole picket fence idea of settling down.

“I’m heading out today.”

Your blood runs cold when Toji steps into the kitchen to inform you of his plans. You don’t even bother to look at him, your gaze simply settled on the positive pregnancy test on the table. The right thing to do was to stay, he should have held you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be okay not plant seeds of doubt in your mind by taking off and running away like a coward.

But for once, Toji was scared.

He had no business becoming a father when he’s lived in a dysfunctional household for majority of his life. What good would he even impart to his child? His pathetic existence has been a picture of disorder that was only recently resolved when you came into the picture. Well, if he were being completely honest, he still hasn’t figured things out quite as well yet. And as a father, that could be catastrophic for a child that required stability if nothing else.

Frowning, Toji leaves the pachinko den, chucking the tokens in the trash. It was far too early in the day to be hanging around shady places like these anyway. He wanders the streets for a good while, his hands buried in his jacket’s pockets as his mind swirls with thoughts about the all too terrifying future.

A pang of guilt strikes his heart and he wonders what you’re doing now. You must still be in the kitchen, your face buried in your hands as you try to think of something. You were probably assuming he wasn’t coming back. After all, you did say: “I don’t wanna pressure you into staying, Toji. You deserve to live your life the way you want it.”

A life without you? Sounds pretty miserable.

Toji must have been walking on autopilot because for some reason, he unknowingly finds himself in front of a bank. Mizuho Bank, Toji reads the sign, his eyes flicking over to one of the posters plastered on the window about opening a savings account.

He looks at the promotional material, transfixed at the picture of a family of four donning on those typical wide stupid grins in ads, the father is holding a hundred yen bill and is seen dropping it into a piggy bank that was filled with both cash and words like: health insurance, family vacation, utility bills, rent, tax, school, and…happiness.

…

…

…

Toji returns to the apartment at around eight in the evening after making a quick stop at the supermarket and the pharmacy. He finds you asleep on the couch, your cheeks stained with dry tears. He crouches on the edge of the couch, worriedly taking in your appearance. You’ve been crying. “Hey…hey, wake up,” he gently shakes you awake and your tired eyes flutter open. “Got you something.”

He holds out a shopping bag, chock full of fresh produce, and from the pharmacy, some camphor oil to relieve your symptoms and those folate supplements the attending pharmacist kept yapping about.

“You didn’t leave,” you said, bewildered. “I thought you—“

“—You thought wrong,” Toji says firmly. He pulls out something from his back pocket and you stare at him, perplexed.

“A bank passbook?” You open it to see that Toji had just made his first deposit amounting to fifty thousand yen earlier today. “You opened a savings account?”

Toji nods, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah,” he tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Every week, we’ll be depositing fifteen thousand yen in that thing. Ten thousand for your maternity needs, and five for the little brat’s schooling one day.”

Tears spring to your eyes upon realizing that Toji was here to stay. “You mean you’re—?” You are cut off by a warm kiss on your lips, and you place a hand over Toji’s chest, your fingertips gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips move against yours. He pulls away after a while.

“Gonna spite the hell out of the Zenin clan and send my brat to the most expensive preschool in Tokyo? Yes, I am.”

Toji sighs, his thumb rubbing across Megumi’s chubby cheek. “But maybe — just maybe — hear me out and don’t you give me another glare.” Megumi’s not gonna remember any of this. After all, memories begin when the brain can fully register speech. But Toji felt the need to say this so, subconsciously, his son will understand just how much he’s done and he’s willing to do for the both of you.

“…Maybe I deserve the two of you too, you know.”

Megumi looks up at his father, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Toji sticks his tongue out at the little one causing the latter to…hiccup? Nah, Toji was sure that was a giggle.

Smirking, Toji leans down to give his son a kiss, thinking he’s patched things up between them now only for Megumi to curl up again, his feet and hands resisting against Toji, his lip downturned in effort as he pushes him away yet again. Conceding, Toji grumbles, rubbing the spot where Megumi roughly pushed him away.

“You really are your mother’s son.”

[blarshwritezz]

Hi can I request a yandere boyfriend x sub reader where yan thought he saw the reader with another man and he decides to show the reader that he wouldn't need anyone except him can yan have a breeding kink and the reader have a degradation kink

Heck yeah!

Jealous Yandere x Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, jealousy, dubcon(?), degradation, breeding

Jealous!Yan didn't believe his eyes. Was that you? Why were you with another man? He was all you needed! Has he not been loving enough? He gave you everything! Or was it the opposite? Has he been too gentle? Well he didn't want to hurt you! But you were his.

Jealous!Yan came home after a few hours. He needed time to cool off, but you could tell he was furious about something.

"Honey, what's wrong?" But he didn't answer. Well, not exactly. His only response was slamming his lips against yours in a harsh kiss. Even when you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened and brought you closer to him.

Jealous!Yan picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom before making quick work of removing your clothes. Finally, his lips detached from yours only to move to your jaw.

Jealous!Yan kissed, sucked, and bit all the way down to your chest. He growled "Mine" before continuing, his fingers now diligently working to pleasure your lower areas.

When he needed more, he roughly grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees up to your shoulders, revealing your pretty hole. He gave it a few good licks, making sure you were nice and wet before penetrating you with his cock.

"Fucking mine. All fucking mine. You don't need anyone else." He watched your face contort with pleasure as he pounded into you. The moans escaping your lips were music to his ears. "Fuck, you're such a slut for me. My goddamn whore."

He smirked at how you clenched tighter around him. "Like that? You like being my bitch?" His pace sped up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.

"Gonna fill you up, make sure nobody else wants to touch you. Make sure you're my filthy slut. All mine." He could only imagine how good you'd look with a baby in you, regardless of if you were able to get pregnant. He was going to pump you full of his cum as if he really could impregnate you.

You'd just look so good all swollen and round. Then the whole world would see you were his and his alone. Just the thought had his cock twitching inside you.

"Say I'm the only man you need. Say it!" He gripped your hair, his thrusts getting sloppy. He just needed to hear you say it. Just a few words from that pretty little mouth and he'd be filling you up in no time.

"Y-you...n-need you!" You barely managed to speak through your incoherent moans, but that was all he needed. With one last thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and filled you with his seed, the action making you cum as well.

After a minute or two of just panting, both of you catching your breath, he started up again. "That's a good slut." You were going to be here for a while.

And there it is! I ki da switched writing styles like halfway through for some reason

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand (Part 1)

TW: suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, smut (kinda), yandere shenanigans

okay i mayyy have made this after like seeing a bunch of hot construction workers around my campus doing tinkering and shit and my saviour complex is also kinda flaring up too

and also this is my first ever cringefail yandere, he's not rich and he barely has connections and mans was suicidal

enjouy

Part 2

Everyone doesn't know why you didn't just block him, call the cops on him, or just... anything! You don't either.

This man has been following you around for months now. Leaving you flowers on your office desk, dropping parcels of gifts in front of your door, and visiting your workplace to give you boxes of freshly made takeout.

He's not much of a talker. Maybe it's because he can't exactly speak English well. But that was the only language he had ever spoken or written in before, as far as you know.

He's definitely intimidating everyone around you. Standing at an imposing height of what you think is 6'5, his back alone is usually enough to block the sun from your eyes. With his shaggy, brown hair covering his eyes, unkempt stubble covering his face and scruffy clothes; he usually wears an olive green shirt under his very worn chore jacket and a pair of shabby khaki pants. The man wears a pair of mildly tattered combat boots. He isn't ugly, perse, but he definitely isn't the standard of beauty in society. Your stalker has this rugged and disheveled vibe to him that some may like and most look down upon.

You think he's homeless, living in his beaten car and going to public gyms to shower. You've never seen him eating something he cooked himself, it's either he's eating something out of a styrofoam box, or a package good from convenience stores.

But he isn't unemployed. You know he is a construction worker, you caught him many times staring at you longingly as you hasten your pace, fleeing the soon-to-be shopping complex near your office. He was carrying a heavy set of wooden planks on his shoulder effortlessly, the stranger wiped his sweat using the back of his hand before adjusting his hard hat.

You didn't know that he worked in this field when you first met him. You always had a good heart... or at least a heart that simply cannot handle bystander guilt.

You were walking towards the subway one day, and it was late because you agreed to work overtime. The sky was pitch black, and the only thing that illuminated the path ahead was the lamps swarmed by millions of moths.

Entering the tunnel, there were only a few people around; either waiting for the train, for someone, or for a miracle. Regardless of what they're there for, they're all occupied in their own little world.

You were about to be immersed in the world of social media too, but your blasted phone died. So you're forced to stand in silence and become aware of your surroundings, nothing to numb yourself from the daily mundaneness.

And it was this awareness that led you to notice the man in the first place. You were guarded, taking a few steps away from him as he seemed extremely intoxicated. He was swaying and stumbling, in his calloused hand, held a brown glass bottle with liquid sloshing in it. The man was mumbling something, but it was too soft and incoherent for you to hear. He kept wiping his face using the back of his knuckles.

He, just like everyone else except you, is in his own personal hell too. He spared no attention for you or anything else except his own drunken stupor, so you deem it relatively safe to watch him from where you're standing. The stranger is your only source of entertainment at the moment anyway, the train is coming soon, so why not watch him for a bit more and laugh at him internally for being at his lowest? Certainly, it would never happen to you.

You were snapped out of your own thoughts when you saw him going dangerously close to the ledge, crossing over the yellow line. At the same time, the sounds of wind rushing and rumbling reached your ears, if he falls onto the rails, he will definitely be done for. You looked behind your shoulder and saw bright lights coming from one end of the tunnel, calculating that you only have a couple seconds to make your decision.

You shouted for his attention, catching it and a few others around you. He stared at you with bloodshot, glassy eyes. However, he lost his footing and was about to fall to his ultimate demise.

The adrenaline rush amplified by the roar of the train wheels made you propel your feet toward him. You stretched your arm, grabbed him by the back of his jacket, and yanked him out of the danger zone with all your might. It definitely wasn't easy to move this hunky mass at all, but you did. And you saved him just at the nick of time, as the train rushed by, blasting a gust of wind against the two of you.

You must have underestimated your strength because he was flung back at high speeds. He grabbed your arm by instinct, trying to re-balance himself, and brought you down to the grimy subway floor with him.

You groan as you rush to sit up, cradling the arm that made contact with the ground. Scowling at the stranger for pulling such a stupid stunt in his inebriated state, upset that now you had a few pairs of judging eyes on you. You froze when you saw his eyes though, a unique glimmer made its way to his dark irises. His mouth is slightly ajar, he is staring at you with such intense reverence and adoration which you mistake as a mere alcoholic's intoxicated stare.

You screeched when he suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach on your work blouse. Shouting angry curses at him as his head was slumped to the ground and his eyelids shut.

You got up and tried to swipe as much puke away from you as you ran to the train. The last you saw him that night was in an extremely pathetic state, unconscious in his own puddle of vomit, a bottle of booze rolling away from him. People either crossed over him or walked over his body, sparing a few glances of pity or contempt before boarding the train themselves.

You thought that you were never going to see him again, with that much alcohol in his system, you would be surprised that he could even remember his own name. And you couldn't be more wrong.

A few days after that, you were in the same station, taking the same train because your boss needed you to finish the report by that day. This time, you're exhausted. Not sleeping, eating or enjoying your hobbies puts a toll on your energy levels, what a surprise.

You were nodding off in the train, struggling to keep yourself awake.

Maybe if you let yourself doze off, you'll wake up just in time for your stop. And so, you did, you let yourself drift into slumberland.

It was a mistake.

You were harshly woken up with a torch shining in your eyes and a booming voice telling you that the both of you have to leave, as this is the last stop. Lifting your head from a headrest, which actually was someone's broad shoulder. But you didn't realize that.

You were still half asleep, groggily and hastily gathering your things, not registering that the employee was also referring to another person in your proximity.

You muttered a small good night to the staff before exiting the train, yawning and stretching. Smacking your lips as you realized that your briefcase wasn't with you, must've left it back on your seat. So you turned around and walked forwards, only to ram yourself onto what you thought was an oddly shaped pillar. Cussing under your breath as you stumbled backwards, rubbing your head.

You let out a shocked yelp when you realized that it's the man instead. You were about to say something to him but your eyes landed on his side; he was holding the suitcase for you.

You stammered a quick thank you as you snatched it away from him, picking up the pace as you walked away. Howeever, you heard footfalls behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him following closely behind.

Perhaps he is also looking for an exit, so you silently lead the way to the nearest opening. But as you walk, you start to wonder; did he purposely stayed on the train with you? If he had to go somewhere he would have gotten off by then, if this was his stop, he would have left before the lights went out.

Finally, having to breath in fresh air once you exit the dusty station, you turned to look at him. Trying to discern which way is he heading.

He isn't moving. The man stood next to your side, staring straight ahead. As if he's waiting for you to take another step. After a few more seconds of idling, he turned his gaze to you.

Understandably being creeped out by this, you told him not to follow you. He blinked a couple times before continuing to stare.

Sighing, you asked him if he is lost. And you got no response.

You asked him if he is stupid. And you got no response.

Not giving a shit anymore, you picked a direction and walked. It's a long walk home and there will not be any trains left until the sun rises. As expected, he followed you all the way.

He is useful in warding off midnight catcallers and other seedy individuals that hang around alleys and empty streets. Who wouldn't be wary of him? He looks like he could easily pick them up by the scruff and fling them to the rooftops. But that means he could do that to you too, and that isn't comforting to know at all.

You reached home after an hour and a half of walking. The man is still on your trail, crowding you around the door as you unlocked it. You opened the door and immediately slipped in, he tried entering as well but you slammed it against his face. He watches you lock and latch your door through the window, he placed his hand on the glass and clawed at it a bit. You simply drew the curtains shut, praying hard that he isn't going to be there by sunrise.

Your prayers wasn't answered because you decided to check up on him an hour later. You saw him laying on the porch with his eyes closed and that tugged at your heartstrings a bit.

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation that is lowering your inhibitions, or you're just lonely and he doesn't look half bad. It could also be the cold one you cracked open that's screwing up with your soberness. Either way, you would have given yourself shit for opening the door and letting him in your house while the world is still asleep. If you get murdered, at least you won't need to go to work next week.

It was a blur, you remembered bits and pieces of his hands roaming your bare back, his cock impaling into you as he sloppily kissed you from the jaw to your neck. How his rough fingers fondled your genitals and how you were gripping your bedsheets as if your life depended on it.

Bouncing on him while you shoved your tongue down his throat was fun, especially when he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, preventing you from escaping him. Feeling the pleasant pressure on you as he pinned you to the firm bed. It was kind of him to shield your head with his hand from hitting the bedframe while he plows you from behind, iron gripping your hips with the other.

You remember starting it, demanding that he gives you something in exchange for staying a night here, you remembered pulling him into a deep, passionate, drunken kiss before he has a foot into the living room. You didn't give a shit about knowing his name or if he had any STDs, you just need to release a lot of frustrations.

You woke up hungover, with you being the small spoon while he held you tightly in his strong arms. They were littered in old scars, some clearly self inflicted.

You turned your head to see that he's still asleep, soft snores escaping his lips. Annoying to some.

Squinting as you let the sharp rays of light stab your eyes, you saw that your clothes and his were strewn all over the bedroom, the door wide open with a stray shoe resting next to it's hinges.

You looked at the clock and realized that you're going to be late. Being the workaholic you are, you shook the stranger in your bed awake. He was groaning and quietly whining about not wanting to get up, but shuts up as soon as you hurled his clothes at his face.

He shot up and cowered behind his arms as you continued throwing his articles of clothing at him, telling him that he has to leave because you need to go to work.

While he's composing himself, you rush to the bathroom to take a quick shower, pretending the cold stream of water is washing away all your sins from the night before. You lather up some soap before scrubbing your skin, internally beating yourself up for your irresponsible choices.

A familiar pair of arms snaked around your torso as you're pulled back into a strong chest, a pair of lips decided to flutter smooches on your temple and ear. His hands explored your naked body, utilizing the suds and the water to give you that electrically tingling sensation.

Of course, this intrusion wasn't taken lightly. You screamed and kicked him out of the shower, telling him to leave your house. You caught a glimpse of his confused and crestfallen look in his eyes, paired with his dripping wet hair and sopping wet body.

You finished your business, threw on a set of fresh clothes and rushed out of the door. And definitely dragging him out of there with you too, not giving a crap that he was in the middle of wearing his shirt.

You ran as fast as you could, wanting to catch the next train. And so did he, he chased after you and squeezed himself into the carriage.

Everyone was also rushing to work, there were no seats left nor were there any standing spots. Shoulders were bumping shoulders and the shorter passengers were at an all time disadvantage. You couldn't reach the handles; but he could.

As the door closes, the man held you close to him and rested his free hand on the small of your back. To outsiders, you and him looked like a run of the mill couple having each other. They couldn't be more wrong, you don't even know a single thing about him.

You just endured it, having no choice but to stick next to him. He yawned and frowned, looking quite displeased that he was not in your bed. Well, that's his fault, no one forced him to follow you back home, and no one forced him to stick himself inside of you.

Among the busy chatter in the train, you and him stayed silent. Gradually feeling comfortable in each other's embrace.

You mumbled curses under your breath, he knows where you live and he is going to know where you work. Couldn't this year get any worse?

As soon as the doors open, you make a mad dash out of the station. Running as fast as you could, not caring who you had to shove to clear your way.

You never looked back, but you made sure to take as many detours as possible to mess with his direction if he somehow managed to catch up to you. But your lungs and your out-of-shape-office-worker legs can only take you so far, you reach a nearby tree in a park next to your building.

You panted as you scanned your surroundings, only seeing the elderly, children, athletic adults, and their pets. No sign of that man you slept with last night.

You took a couple more minutes to catch your breath, knowing fully that your boss would chew you up for being close to an hour late. Whatever, you're here now. Let's earn your salary.

So you walked, it's just a couple minutes away. Nothing else should go wrong today-

You had an incredulous look on your face when you saw him loitering at the entrance. Your colleagues glance him up and down, some admiring the way his muscles slightly stick out of his shirt, some wondering what an unkempt hunk like him is doing in front of such a corporate, sanitized venue.

There was no way to sneak past him, you just had to face him. It was... cute that his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. So you sighed as you marched up to him, requesting him to leave you alone as politely as you could. There was an edge to your tone, he must either be oblivious to it or he's simply choosing to ignore the fact that you're unhappy with him here.

During mid-sentence, he presented you with a paper plate that had a hotdog on it. You were speechless, it had everything on it: ketchup, mustard, relish, pickles, mayonnaise, cheese, Jalapeño slices, onions, beef chili, and other heaps of things that you couldn't identify. With the number of toppings, you couldn't tell that it was a hotdog in the first place, it was just a mountain of random savory foodstuffs. Your eyes darted to his other hand, it also had a hotdog wrapped in a napkin, except his one only had relish.

"I didn't know what you liked..." He mumbled, voice so deep that you could feel the vibrations in your own chest. The man looked at you with hope, wanting you to accept the plate of everything as breakfast.

You shook your head and said you were late to work. Pushing him away from the door before entering the building, some of the topping amalgamations spilled onto his shirt. Probably staining it forever with its oil content.

He stood there with a frown, he craned his head downwards to stare at the spill.

Then, he looked back up to see that you were out of sight. His shoulders sagged as he placed his own hotdog on top of your plate of horrors.

The man walked away as he pulled out a plastic spoon that he tucked in his pocket, it was given to him by the vendor because it is impossible to eat your order with hands.

He began digging in, throwing one last glance at the main door behind him.

[scftpcws]

Naaaah because my boy Ollie is a complete freak! That dude would be clingy and rough AF and I'm here for it. Please please! 🥺

Warning! MDNI18+ some filthy ass shit. and terrible writing please read at your own risk.

smut under the cut 💋

i have been deathly absent for a while but i am here to say… yes. yes the fuck he would be a freak because have you SEEN him. he is a dangerous individual.

i feel like he would have a lot if repressed desires that he would keep from you. he wouldn’t even tell Felix about them, because when has he ever told anyone the truth??

he debated a few times whether or not he should tell you the depraved things he wanted from the two of you’s sex life, but every time he got close he backed out because he didn’t want to weird you out or worse, scare you away.

I feel like he would totally be into some predator x prey dynamic type stuff. he isn’t sure why he’s into it, maybe its the thrill if chasing you through the Maze or giving you 30 seconds to find a hiding space in Saltburn Estate, and spending a dreadful amount of time “trying” to find you, despite knowing exactly where you are every time. he knows you, knows your mind. of course he does, he spent months, possibly years (depending on how long you managed to evade his addictive personality) dissecting that pretty little brain of yours so that he knew every thought process, every detail. he is obsessed with you and that definitely transfers into the way he fucks you.

he’s slow at first. its a mind game, he wants you to beg for him and he knows that by the end of the night you will, regardless of how defiant you may be. I feel like because of this, he may also be into CNC. obviously you two would consent to it and make a list of rules and things that were okay and not okay. he would abide by all of these rules, because again, he respects your boundaries and doesn’t want you to leave him. he would fuck you nice and slow until your fussy and whining for him to go faster, to fuck you harder.

“What was that little lamb? speak up for me.” he would whisper sweetly into your ear, thrusting hard just once into you, watching the way your eyes toll back into your head. “I need it Ollie.” you whine, tears falling from your eyes in frustration.

“Need what love? Do i look like a mind reader? tell me what you want and you can have it.” he slowly begins to rub your clit in gentle and agonising circles. “I want you to fuck me.” you were breathless and almost delerious with pleasure.

“Want?” “ Oh honey, I thought you needed it? What, you dont need me anymore, hmm? don’t need to feel my love for you? don’t need to feel me break you?” he ask, his once languid thrust coming to a halt. You whine without restraint, cursing him with your teeth clenched dur to the sudden lack if pleasure.

“Tell me you crave me. Tell me you need me, how you can’t breathe without me, how im everything you need. Tell me.” he says, his lips against your ear, his hand round your throat grip tightened, causing your breathing to strain.

“I need you! Please i need to feel you. only you can fuck me this good, please Ollie. make me feel better, i need you to make me feel better…please.” the last please was a desperate whine, so pathetic Ollie had to throw his head back to avoid your soft and innocent gaze. you trailed you hand up to his neck to pull him closer to you, your gaze so piercing and unavoidable that he almost came, his thick cock unmoving in your tight cunt.

“Please Sir.”

oh that one did it. His pace was instantly bruising, so violent that if you didn’t know the extent of his love, you might have thought he wanted you dead. you almost didn’t recognise him. he was like a wild animal, his only aim to fuck you into oblivion.

he mumbled a mix of incoherent praise and degrading comments as your throat became hoarse from your scream like moans. the crying for him to slow down only spurred him on, causing him to shove his fingers in you mouth to dampen your onslaught of noises.

he fuck you dangerously for what could have been hours. you lost count of how many times you came around him. your body felling fuzzy and limp. seeing you so braindead for him had him unleashing what quite easily could have been his 7th load of the night. he watched as a dumb, lopsided grin etched its way into your lips as you felt the warmth of his cum flood your cunt once more.

“look at you so pretty for me, my pretty little lamb.”

well… im back.. i think..

[golden-boy-of-the-gazette]

My brain keeps running back to the idea of Danny's first time having sex sooo

Gender neutral reader, nsfw, incredibly brief mention of overstimulation that doesnt even go into detail. Probably has typos and probably isnt formatted too well but I'm just getting thoughts down.

I imagine he wouldnt be too focused on it during school. Seeing as his dad sounded super strict and awful he was probably more focused on school work. Not to mention he was most definitely a loser. Is he pretty? Sure, doesnt change the fact that he was too quiet and got caught staring all the time but once he graduated and was free from the pressures of his father- y'know.

I imagine he would be nervous but wouldnt show it. He wouldn't admit that he's never had sex before so hes sloppy, incredibly sloppy. He doesn't know how to move his hips, where to put his hands- not to mention his doesnt know where the clit is at this point. He is incredibly touchy though, not even in a groping kind of way. In a just barely grazing their skin with his fingertips kind of way. Until it's not. He gets more used to it and starts to get a bit more bold, using his full palm, getting more and more greedy. He starts groping eventually of course but he's starting to want to taste. He uses his mouth. Soft kisses that get hungrier until hes biting, not knowing exactly how to give hickies but hes leaving marks regardless. Hes groping at their thighs, holding them close while he nips at their throat, imagining bitting a chunk out of it. That's what gets him going. Now hes not thinking right. Hes thinking of another design about the person hes with, thinking about killing them and leaving them on display for everyone to see. Thats what's really giving him a hard-on. Not the shitty porn star-ish moans that are reverberating in his ears, no, hes imagining them gurgling, choking on their own blood but- ah. His thoughts are interrupted by the slightest touch on his cock, eliciting a slight grunt of surprise from him.

He tries to take the lead but his movements are so sloppy and poor that he ends up being the bottom, getting ridden instead. He's fussy and loud, scratching at their thighs as he holds back tears from overstimulation. Hes not thinking about his partner during this at all, mind completely blank, only ever thinking about himself. He's muttering useless pleas under his breath that are coming out as incoherent nonsense, tilting his head back and groaning deeply- he doesnt last that long. Maybe 7 or 8 minutes. He doesnt feel bad. Hes ready to go another round but his partner is ultimately left unsatisfied anyway.

[internal-ethics]

so...some tobirama things

[these are my old comments and chats and bullet points so will sound incoherent in a post]

the first major early era capitalist

aside from the literal ninja nuclear bomb jutsu that's his signature, tbrm inventions are all his attempt to redistribute some og bloodline bullshit his bro had and abolish the clan mindset.

shadow clones work the same way as Wood Clones. It tricks all magic eyes, kill time doing shit and for info gathering

flying thunder god is an advanced summoning jutsu (which senju are good at) where "teleporting" just means literally summoning yourself from one place to another as long as you marked the place before. No magic or jutsu could track it.

wood jutsus and sharingans and byakugans are bloodline limits only his bro and big clans could do. he couldnt.

so what do he do? Make similar stuff everyone could learn and do regardless of clans,

Tl dr , bro is an early era capitalist who took power and jutsus from the elite feudal clans, flipped them off together with their clannism, and produced accessible and user friendly means for non-clan , non blood limit people that are willing to pay for it

Cause everyone from big clans was just sticking to themselves and going all Dues ex MACHINA on power

And it really depended on who had the bigger better nukes, who was going to RULE

and that SUCKS for everyone else, the normal people

of course his stuff also served as counters of those very blood limits and middle fingers to them bc he's an bitter asshole that way, just not the kind everyone thinks

in father's time, the eldest son of a clanhead becomes clan heads ALWAYS and they could do what ever they want. this is not father's time. this is the end of the feudal mindset. And the start of their version of democratic national republic, so you gotta get the people's rep votes to decide who rules.

2. sacrifice - the foundations of the new ninja world

Most fans, even his own fans, due to the databook's wording, remember him as "the one who built the village". as in building the infrastructures and concrete things. thats only scratching the surface of who he really was : he IS the village by virtue of his deeds. And the point of him doing all that he does is ...he literally is the only one who ado it to the highest standards and thats both great and ironic, because everyone does it, but NO one else does it like him.

[easy for him to say lol]

he sacrificed himself, so everyone does the same, but others like Shikamaru sacrifice because they think they are the fittest to die, like they are the weakest or most sacrificable. tobiramas sacrifice should have hit hard, bc he sacrificed precisely BECAUSE he was literally the most unfit to die, the strongest, the most nonsensible choice to die. Thats how it paved such a strong legacy. And i think, while not meaning to do anything in that calibre, and never showing these qualities of ninja, and most likely having got a normal death, hashirama was the one tobirama learned from, by his almost suicide to protect tobirama, as the strongest in his clan. The difference is while hashirama was doing it just for his brother and his friend, tobirama imprinted that into his mind and did that for everyone. He made a brothers love into a worldwide legacy, a tradition.

Tobirama didnt just create the chuunin exams, he was the standards based on which they test shinobis in the exams. Intelligence, planning, general smart fighting and info gathering skills, time based choices, bravery and once again, the will to sacrifice yourself. Shikamaru is the only one who passed that time because he acted exactly like Tobirama would in all the exams. The chuunin exams is to sort out who is the most like him.

He didnt just create the Anbu who are special assasins and spies who has no name. He IS the special assassin and spy. Because since childhood he was THAT assassin and that spy, a deadly shadow behind a leader.

He didnt just create the Police Force. He IS the one with all the qualities to be the Police : strictness, caution, principles, law abiding, fraternity and loyalty.

bonus not to mention he is not the one who built the physical village. hashirama is. hashirama was the one with visual thinking and works in the present. he knew what the village is gonna look like and where to build it since he was a kid. hashirama built the physical village like the pillar tree he is, he takes care of it's SPACE, makes sure it exist for people to reside in. tobirama embodies the IDEA and standards of the village and takes care of it's TIME, makes sure it lasts for the next generation.

[molsno]

hii so im kind of confused about the general inner workings of transmisogyny as an extension of transphobia and was hoping you could clarify. basically, transphobes & terfs in particular say that trans women are men, however they treat trans women differently than men, dehumanizing them on the basis of their gender. i always interpreted this as a form of gender discrimination that aims to define trans women as a lower or subhuman class, a third gender of “not quite men but undeserving of the title of woman”. does this conflict with the concept of bioessentialism, i.e. that trans women are fundamentally men? i see people say that “transphobes see trans women as men” but from experience that’s not quite true. men receive privilege and rewards for being men that trans women don’t. sorry if this is incoherent im just trying to get a better understanding of it

your understanding is pretty good to be honest. trans women are a separate gender class - an underclass to be specific - and transmisogynists are aware of this, even if they claim to see us as men. does this conflict with bioessentialism? not necessarily, but in some ways it does.

the thing is, though, logical consistency doesn't particularly matter to bigots. that's why basically all of the laws designed to oppress trans women, despite all of the fearmongering about how some technicality in how they're worded will result in them targeting cis women and other tme people, are ultimately only going to be enforced to the fullest extent against trans women. for example, tme people would rightfully be furious if a teenage cis girl was subjected to a genital examination due to the suspicion that she's trans and playing in a high school girls' sport. this would unambiguously be sexual assault, after all. but ultimately, she would be allowed to continue playing (not that she'd likely want to after something so traumatizing, but I digress), and she would probably (not certainly though) have some kind of recourse available to her due to the backlash this incident would cause. if this happened to a teenage trans girl, though, would anyone care? would there be outrage about this? she would have gone through the exact same kind of sexual assault, but the law in that scenario would be functioning exactly as intended. no form of recourse would be available to her. sure, you could make the case that a cis girl might not be able to sue the school district due to financial or other barriers, but a trans girl would have no ground to stand on, legally speaking; she would have broken the law, no matter how unjust and discriminatory the law is.

so violence against trans women broadly isn't recognized as violence against women because we aren't viewed as women. but we're not viewed as men, either. for another example, let's work through the lens of sexual assault again. if a tme person of any gender accuses a trans woman of sexual assault, there is little to no doubt that she will be viewed as guilty automatically, both by other tme people and by the law (the trans panic defense is still legally admissible in many places). in the best case, this will lead to her ostracization and isolation, putting her at higher risk for instability and suicide. in the worst case, this will lead to her imprisonment or death - REGARDLESS of if the accusation is actually true or not. the justification for this is that trans women are secretly perverted men who are trying to prey on innocent cishet people, but the basic idea underlying that premise isn't even something tme people truly believe! if they actually viewed trans women as men, then her guilt wouldn't be quite so certain. men can commit sexual assault every day and face no consequences for it, even when brought to trial with clear and damning evidence, because patriarchy ensures that men won't be held accountable for their actions. of course, this isn't always the case, marginalized men often do face intense scrutiny, many times involving violence. but even adjusting this analysis to account for additional factors such as racism, trans women still receive absolutely none of the same solidarity, leniency, or respect that men of the same demographics as them do.

fundamentally, trans women aren't treated like women or men in society. we're treated as a disposable and undesirable underclass of women that everyone else is free to abuse without consequence. any claims by transmisogynists about what gender they see us as is posturing. we are treated in unique ways as a result of our status as transfeminine. that's exactly what we mean when we talk about how transmisogyny is a unique form of oppression. bioessentialism certainly plays a part, but its contradictions are so obvious that it can only be understood as one piece of a much larger puzzle.

[hismercytomyjustice]

I will never financially recover from 600 Strike…

I just…

God it’s so fucking good… T^T

Of course the “NEXT TO MY WIFE” part, but Odysseus showing Poseidon what happens when you finally get exactly what you want…

Look what you’ve turned me into

Look what we’ve become

*incoherent screeching*

The lyrics are just SO GOOD. Like, I am awe of how Jay manages to one up himself over and over again. This song is maybe the most pivotal one as far as Odysseus’s character arc is concerned and he fucking CRUSHED IT.

I AM ADDING A CUT BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OKAY?! ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

UGH. I will never get enough of this musical, I s2g. Jay does such an amazing job of portraying Odysseus’s emotions and mental state throughout. By the time we get to 600 Strike, it’s fucking heartbreaking. Odysseus has tried SO HARD for SO LONG to be a good person. He never wanted any of this! He never wanted to be ruthless! But over and over and over again he is just doomed by the gods narrative.

UUUGH. It makes No Longer You (probs my fave song of the musical) EVEN BETTER because yeah, “I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you.”

The gods have forced Odysseus time and time again to be ruthless. He has fought for twenty years to retain some semblance of his innate desire for mercy only to watch it ripped away from him, piece by devastating piece.

I utterly adore the way we see him broken down until the ONLY thing he has left for any chance at happiness or normalcy is making it home to his wife and son.

He starts out this whole journey with the goal of getting himself AND his crew home only to watch them die in increasingly horrific ways because of the impossible situations they keep getting forced into.

I feel like Oddyseus’s first major breakdown happens in The Underworld. That’s where it finally all starts to be too fucking much. Where he hits his limit. Just the “All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes. I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died.”

And then the utterly gut wrenching scene with his mom. ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

I feel like up to this point, yeah he’s concerned about what’s going on back at home, but this is the first time he’s straight up confronted with the fact things are changing there and there’s NOTHING he can do about it. His absolute worst fear has come true. He lost someone he loved forever because he couldn’t make it home.

How did she die? Odysseus doesn’t know. She could have died peacefully of old age or been slaughtered. Either way he wasn’t there to comfort her or protect her. She died not knowing if he would ever made it home. Even in death, she’s stuck forever wondering what happened to him and wishing she could see him again.

HE IS RIGHT THERE and she will never know because he was too late.

Like logically he knows time is passing in Ithaca too, but up to this point I feel like Ithaca is more of a concept to him than a reality. His last memories of his home are of his wife and infant son from over a decade ago. Obviously they’ve aged too, but he hasn’t seen the effects of the passage of time on them. He doesn’t know what’s become of them or his country without its king.

It makes so much sense that this is when he finally starts to consider ruthlessness over mercy. Especially after Tiresias implies he will never make it home. Like obvs we know he will and that Tiresias just means he won’t be the same person when he does, but Odysseus doesn’t know that.

Regardless, Tiresias is right. The only way Odysseus will ever make it home is to cut away at everything that makes him who he is. His morality, his desire for mercy, his loyalty to his crew, his friends...

His friends who trust him, only for him to keep leading them to horrific deaths time and time again by clinging to his desire for mercy.

God, and then there’s Mutiny. This whole time Eurylochus has been begging Odysseus to focus on the needs of the few instead of the many, to “cut their losses.” And now Odysseus finally does by sacrificing six men and Eurylochus cannot fucking believe it, even after trying to convince him to do this EXACT same thing back in Puppeteer.

I think Eurylochus ultimately wants Odysseus to keep leading them, even when he doesn’t agree with his decisions, because he doesn’t trust himself to make to put the lives of everyone else first. He relies so much on Odysseus as his moral compass and now that compass has been shattered into a million pieces.

This is not his captain. This IS NOT his friend. This is also the moment Eurylochus realizes Odysseus intends to get home by any means necessary and that fucking terrifies him.

He could always count on Odysseus to keep the safety of the crew first and foremost, to be their pillar of strength in the face of adversity, but now? Now he can’t.

Besides, he’s finally convinced himself that they’ll never make it home, so why should they keep fighting? Why not just try and live out the rest of their lives in peace? Why invite more suffering and pain into their lives?

Then comes Thunder Bringer, where Eurylochus’s biggest fear is realized. Odysseus openly admits he will do whatever it takes to make it home to his wife and son.

At this point, Odysseus is desperately trying to justify all of the horrors and loss they’ve been through. Hundreds of men who trusted him have died because of him. He believes he’s led them astray over and over again.

But if he doesn’t make it home, what was the point of all of this? Does he give up now for the sake of his remaining crew, or does he honor the sacrifice of those they’ve lost by finally making it home? Every single one of them has died in their attempts to get home. How can he sleep at night if he gives up on getting there now? It would mean they all died for absolutely nothing.

And like, it’s a fucked up decision but I think it’s fair to say Odysseus is running on pure PTSD and vibes at this point. He is literally staring ZEUS in the face. Zeus who pretty much made him kill a defenseless child “for the greater good.” Zeus who is asking him to make another impossible choice.

His remaining crew has already admitted they’ve given up on getting home, but Odysseus hasn’t. If no one makes it back, how will the family and friends they’ve left behind ever find closure? They’ll spend the rest of their days living and dead waiting for them to come home like his mother has. They’ll descend into the underworld never knowing what happened to them and hoping against hope that they’ll still see them again.

Hope is such a powerful thing, but it can also be devastating. Isn’t it kinder to let them know what happened than to let them die, trapped warring with grief and hope forever? Because not knowing, while it can give them hope, it’s a false hope at this point. It’s not real.

Isn’t it crueler to leave them scanning the horizon for the rest of their lives, looking for ships that will never come? Isn’t it crueler to force thousands upon thousands of voices to join his mother’s in the underworld?

Isn’t it kinder to give them closure? To let them finally be able to fully grieve?

The least he can do is tell their loved ones what happened to them, isn’t it?

And now, twenty years later, he’s finally within sight of Ithaca. Now he can justify all of his decisions, all of the pain, all of the heartache. He’s can do the one good thing left to him after all these years.

So of course that’s when Poseidon strikes in a final act of devastating cruelty. All because Odysseus blinded rather than outright killed his son. His son who planned to kill and eat him and every single one of his 600 crew members.

It’s simultaneously so cathartic and heartbreaking when Odysseus first brings the trident down on Poseidon. Especially after pleading with him one last time to stop this never ending cycle of violence and pain.

But Poseidon refuses to stop. He’s more concerned about his pride and his reputation than in admitting he’s taken things too far. This so-called god has the nerve to have killed almost every man in his crew and then tell Odysseus he hasn’t suffered enough. He’s already paid for his actions with the blood of hundreds of men. What debt could he possibly have left to pay?

Tbh I would not have blamed Odysseus for torturing Poseidon for the rest of his days. And, if he chose ruthlessness over mercy, that’s what he would have done. Poseidon would’ve gotten exactly what he wanted. Lol, just not like this.

But no. Even in the midst of all of this, of getting to hear this murderer, this god cry out and beg for the mercy he denied him so many times, Odysseus stops. Poseidon finally knows what it’s like to feel helpless and to feel unending pain.

Surprised Pikachu face! He’s not a fan!

Odysseus has pled with the gods to be merciful for over twenty years now. Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Calypso, Circe… He’s begged them time and time again to see there are other ways than ruthlessness. He managed to get through to Circe, since she alone viscerally understood the pain and loss he’d been through. And now all the rest of them finally understand too.

Athena goes to Zeus on his behalf to convince him and a whole host of other gods to give Odysseus another chance. Calypso lets him leave her island. Zeus realizes the folly of his own pride when he nearly kills his own daughter. Poseidon agrees to call off the storm.

It’s such a fascinating story and I utterly adore Jay’s interpretation of it. Mercy is what ultimately gets Odysseus home, even if he had to be ruthless to get it.

AND AND AND all the callbacks in the songs, the bastardization of moments of joy. The reclamation of moments of horror!!! T^T

JAY WHEN I CATCH YOU.

[otter-pup]

Once your newest clutch is laid and your womb is empty of any eggs, the several tentacles inside your cunt - with noticeable reluctance - pull out and hover to the side. The larger tentacle soon takes their place and he slides in with ease. But the bumps stretch your cunt some more, and it becomes apparent that their size from the outside is a little misleading.

The tentacle is slow with the first egg. Despite how much you'll whine, it'll slowly push the first egg in. Once the egg reaches your cervix, it'll carefully push through, but it'll still cause a bit of burning pain. Smaller tentacles will react immediately to any sign of discomfort, squeezing in and pumping copious amounts of the usual liquid into you, causing some if it to leak out of your cunt.

Once the first egg is inside you, it's obvious why I wanted to ask if you felt comfortable taking this tentacles eggs. A single egg has you looking like you're due with twins. The tentacle seems to halt a moment, waiting to see if you were anymore discomfort. But upon hearing your whines and incoherent begs for more, he continues pumping the large eggs into you.

Some tentacles take to rubbing or gently squeezing your chest to distract you from any pain, even poking your nipples as well. Anything that can distract you from any pain of taking eggs these large, the tentacles exploit to the fullest.

The tentacles down your throat are continuously pumping liquid down your throat, but it's mostly to dull any pain the large eggs might have. Seeing as they aren't exactly the smartest of creatures, it's more than likely they didn't realize pumping more down your throat would lead to you practically becoming consumed by the want to be the best eggslut.

The thoughts practically take over you, with how insistent they are. You're going to be the biggest you've ever been since becoming an incubator but you can still get bigger. You need to take all of these eggs, no matter how many or how big they are. You need to be the perfect incubator for me and the tentacles.

The large tentacle has only pumped about six eggs into you, but your belly is already as large as your ever first clutch. But it's obvious that the tentacle isn't even close to be done with laying his eggs. With how there are tentacles resting on your belly; ready to begin coating your belly in the liquid to let your skin stretch. With how there are smaller tentacles alongside the other in your; pumping the liquid that allows your womb to grow larger with the eggs.

But considering you barely ever have a coherent thought anymore, you're probably just anticipating how many eggs you'll be able to fit inside your womb this time. Isn't that right, my adorable eggslut?

🐺

it feels so wrong, being empty for the first time since this all started, but I know it’ll be worth it when the bigger tentacle slides into my cunt, each bump stretching my cunt, and my brain is coherent enough to realize the eggs are bigger than I thought.

still, i take the first egg eagerly, trying to clench around it and get it to lay it in me faster—but it still burns when its pushed through my cervix, making me whine, making the other tentacles rush to pump me full of stretching liquid. it’s so big, and my belly is swollen so large just from that first one—not big enough, no, smaller than any clutch I’d taken, but still so big for one egg.

i beg for more anyways, regardless of the unreasonable size of a singular egg, regardless of how big I’ll be by the end. i need it, and the tentacle obliges. the stretching liquid being pumped into me eases the pain a little, as does the feeling of each egg bumping against my g spot as it’s pushed through the tentacle towards my cervix. the tentacles wrapping around and playing with my chest help, too.

i get dizzier with want the longer the tentacles in my mouth keep pumping their aphrodisiac liquid down my throat, hyper aware of how small my belly still is, even as another egg gets added to my womb. it’s not big enough. i need to be bigger. i need to take every one of this tentacles eggs. i need to be as big with eggs as I can.

i know it’s not done: i can still see the shape of eggs inside it, the bit of it I’m able to see over my steadily swelling belly. i can still feel the tentacles on my belly dripping the tiniest amount of stretching liquid onto my skin, ready to produce more at a moments notice. i can still feel the same liquid being pumped into my womb faster than it can keep in and leaking out between my legs.

i don’t know an exact count of how many ill be able to fit, just that I’ll fit as many as this tentacle gives me. ill break my record for biggest belly, even if it’s not my biggest clutch by number. i have to. i need it. im just a dumb eggslut for these tentacles and i need to take the biggest eggs I can from them.

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[skinnamon39]

incoherent rambling about The Boy and the Heron below, beware of spoilers and content warnings for discussion of self-harm and (briefly) death

I watched it subbed and I've only seen it once so if I misremember some things or my account seems different from what you watched then oops (I don't know what they changed, if anything, in the dub). anyways

Mahito might be one of the most compelling protagonists from a film I've seen in a long time. maybe not the most fun or most interesting per say, but I don't remember the last time I was so completely absorbed in a character's growth. just instantly hooked.

I think it's definitely a "less is more" kind of case for him, where what he doesn't do matters just as much or more as what he does. like in particular, I was super intrigued by how throughout the entire house tour sequence, he doesn't say a word. his dad introduces Natsuko to him, Natsuko shows him the house, he meets the maids, and he doesn't say anything; we still get shots of him looking at and reacting to stuff, he takes off his hat and bows to people when appropriate, he follows any directions given to him, and it all really strongly gave me the impression that he isn't invested in what's happening.

and of course he isn't! we are reminded almost as soon as he's shown to his room that he's still reeling over the death of his mom. actually, it might be accurate to say he's resentful of his circumstances. he kind of has to go along with it since he's, y'know, a kid, but he's obvs majorly uncomfortable with feeling Natsuko's pregnant belly, and for a good chunk of the first act, almost everything he says to people are bare-minimum polite autopilot responses.

but uhhh I gotta talk about the self-harm scene, I have been studying it under a microscope ever since I saw it. yeah it's pretty brief but man I was NOT expecting that much blood.

anyways, we're not told exactly why Mahito did it, but I don't think we really need to when the general gist suffices. what does he mean when he says later on it was fueled by his "malice"? was it a way to get out of the school he obviously didn't like, and thus defiance of his father? was he just trying to avoid his antagonistic classmates? was he trying to get them in trouble for "injuring" him? who knows? it could be any of them. it could be all of them at once. the nature of his lie about his injury muddles things too. regardless, the outcome is the same: he's not going to school for now.

this is getting a lot longer than I thought it would and I'm still not done (I wanted to talk about things besides Mahito too! I swear!) but I'll stop here for now. god this movie was so good

[arisuinhell]

just a niragi x reader fluff, i need it 😭

Any fight Niragi had in him when the beatings started was long gone when he found himself face-down in the dirt for what felt like the hundreth time, the familiar taste of blood being almost a comfort to him, but as he looked up at the skyline nothing quite matched the comfort he would get from seeing you on the bridge. If he focused enough on you then the pain just became a dull ache, he could drown out the shouts and insults and just exist in the same quiet space as you seemed to.

He wasn’t exactly sure when you started showing up, you were just there one day, something new in the distance to take his mind off his shitty reality. You were, unfortunately for him, just far enough away that it was hard to make out any specific details. The colour of your uniform indicated that you went to a school a few wards over from him but that was it. Maybe one day you would turn around and he could find out if your face was how it imagined it to be, because he thought about that alot. He had to think of something because if he paid too much attention to what was happening to him then there was a real possibility he wouldn’t be able to cope.

It didn’t occur to Niragi until they dragged him onto the street, public humiliation being a favourite of theirs, that it had started to rain and you didn’t have an umbrella. You just sat there, same as always with your back to the railings.

As much as he enjoyed having you around he hoped you would leave soon, you’d get cold and it would be a shame if you got sick. Although, if you did move, he really hoped your view of him was as poor as his was of you because this really wasn’t how he wanted you to see him.

-

The wounds from the previous week had barely began to heal when they came back for him, same time, same place. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried taking a different route home but it didn’t make a difference to the outcome, and at least here there was you, or there used to be. For the first time in a long time Niragi had to deal with everything alone. He had started to forget how utterly soul destroying having the living shit beat out of you really was.

When his tormentors eventually left he lay staring across the river, in too much pain and too exhausted to even attempt to move. What was the point really? Why did he carry on with this? He would tell himself that school wouldn’t be forever, one day all this would be over but it seemed so far away and right now it was almost too much.

“Hey.”

Niragi had developed a talent for identifying people by their shoes, almost always having his eyes on the ground either by choice or circumstance, but the scuffed black school shoes with dirty pink laces weren't familiar.

"Hey." The voice said again, one of the shoes belonging to it pushing Niragi gently in the shoulder and onto his back.

It was you.

"You okay down there?" You asked, your arms crossed and a playful smile on your lips, the sun behind you giving you an almost ethereal glow.

Niragi opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was a series of incoherent mumbles.

"I'll take that as no." You laughed, extending a hand out to him liked he wished you would have all those times before.

He took it, his own hand trembling and you pulled him to his feet with surprising force, or maybe it was just a lack of resistance from him for once in his life.

You had been living rent free in his head longer than he cared to admit, like a strange unobtainable dream and now here you were in front of him.

Your face, Niragi realised, wasn't at all how he imagined, in fact none of you was. The way you had sat on the bridge curled into yourself painted a picture of some shy, quiet individual, big doe eyes and a cute little pout, but who stood before him was none of that. Your eyes were outlined with dark bruises, your face had marks that matched his own and there was a small split in you lip. You were still, in his eyes atleast, beautiful regardless and the cheeky air of confidence around you spelled out trouble.

"I uh.." He didn't know what to say, maybe sorry? Apologies usually worked even if he'd done nothing wrong. He was never good in these situations.

"You look like shit." You said matter-of-factly.

Niragi looked down, hurt and quite frankly embarassed that was how you saw him even though he couldn't disagree with your observation.

"I bet you're cute under all that blood though." You added, lightly tapping his nose. "Let's go clean you up."

You leant down to grab the bag Niragi had on the ground and swung it over your shoulder, gripping the strap with both hands. "You got a whole library in here or something? This weighs a tonne."

"Uhm, something like that.." Niragi smiled sheepishly.

"You better not be doing homework for those guys."

Niragi remained silent. He didn't want to lie to you but telling the truth and exposing himself as a figurative doormat so soon wasn't ideal either.

"You shouldn't." You continued, taking his lack of response as confirmation. "It won't make things better y'know. The only way to change things is by standing up for yourself."

"I tried." He replied, and he really did.

"But you gave up?" You asked, kicking a rock into the river as you slowly wandered down the street.

He shrugged. "It just didn't seem worth it.. I'm not really worth it."

Niragi's heart sped up when you walked back over to him. He watched you shift the weight of his bag from one shoulder to two, before taking his face in your hands and looking him in the eyes.

"I've seen you take a hit every day for the past two months. I get it's exhausting and you feel like shit, but you are worth it."

Smiling, you brushed his hair back out of his eyes and he hoped like hell he didn't look as embarrassed as he felt.

"You've got me now, okay? You won't have to fight alone anymore."

a/n: Happy New Year! I hope your 2023 is what you want it to be.

I dug this up from my ancient WIP pile and finally finished it off (unsure if I like it but we have to push through sometimes), then kind of realised it's not that fluffy atall. Sorry..

I found it cute anyway..

Taglist: @katnisspeetaprim

(Message to be added)

[peonycats]

(might become a block of text as i write sorry) do you have any thoughts on how bengal's personification(s)...work ? i am bengali but it's always confused me how to go about it. was there only one bengal before the partition ? would west bengal and bangladesh have a personification only after it ? i feel weird making bengal (if there was one before what we have currently, which... there's gotta be right ??) "into" west bengal or bangladesh cuz then i feel as though there's a very weird and at least somewhat offensive connotation on which one's "more/truly bengali" to put it lightly, ya know ?? but i can't see either of them really being born in the contemporary era cuz bengal's history is so ancient and vast ?? it confuses me sm i know i should probably just ask other bengalis but the ones ik irl don't really have strong views on this and i don't know any bangladeshis i can realistically ask this to 😭😭😭 im sorry if this has become an incoherent block of text

HEAVY DISCLAIMER THAT I AM NOT BENGALI OR SOUTH ASIAN!!

Tbh, don't worry about sending in a big block of text, I think this is an scenario/question worth considering. Basically, there are a number of ways you can go about personifying Bengal/Bengali nations, and each of them have their own issue, each of which have their own pros and cons, if my understanding is correct-

There was one original Bengal personification that was Hindu, but around the time that Islam reached Bengal and Bengalis began to convert, another Bengal personification arose to specifically represent Muslim Bengalis.

There was one original Bengal personification that began as Hindu and eventually converted to Islam, going on to become the personification of Bangladesh. No other separate personification arose to represent West Bengal/Bengali Hindus because this original personification still represents them.

There was one original Bengal personification that began as Hindu and eventually converted to Islam, going on to become the personification of Bangladesh. Meanwhile, another Bengal personification later arose to represent West Bengal/Bengali Hindus around the time of British imperialism and/or the Partition.

APPROACH 1

Pros + Reflects the current cultural division between Indian Bengalis and Bangladeshis

Cons - Lowkey justifies the Partition of the subcontinent by implying there were already personifications split on religious lines predating British colonialism

APPROACH 2

Pros + Reaffirms the artificiality of the Partition by there only being one Bengal personification representing all Bengalis regardless of religion

Cons - Does not accurately reflect the irl cultural divide between Indian Bengalis and Bangladeshis and the difference in how they view themselves

APPROACH 3

Pros + Reaffirms the artificiality of the Partition by there only being one original Bengal personification representing all Bengalis regardless of religion

Cons - By making the personification of West Bengal so comparatively young, this both inaccurately reflects the age of the Hindu Bengali community vs the Muslim Bengali community, as well as have subtle implications about which community is more "authentic and legitimate" based on this difference in age

Now, choosing one of these approaches will definitely depend a lot on what exactly you're personifying and the historical-geopolitical context at hand, as well as what messages you're not afraid to convey. For example, I personify Afghanistan as representing both Pashtuns in Afghanistan and Pakistan from talking to actual Pashtuns and how they view the border between them, as well as communicating the artificiality of the border. I think it's useful to recognize that the entire process of personifying a nation is basically mapping things like, a nation's ethnogenesis, rise to power, golden age, and eventual decline and destruction to human life events, is always imperfect and sometimes, the allegory falls apart; the Partition is probably one of the best examples of this.

As for how I would go about personifying Bengal? I would probably for a variation of Approach 1, where instead of there being multiple Bengali personifications split on the basis of religion, there would be multiple Bengali personifications split on the basis of regional and cultural differences. (Correct me if I'm wrong, as I am an outsider to this, but there are sub-groups and regional differences in language and culture even within Bengal, right?) Because of there being multiple Bengali personifications, some of them would be Muslim, some of them would be Hindu, and by the time of Partition, the personifications representing the lands of modern day Bangladesh and/or Muslim Bengali communities would move to join/represent the nation of Bangladesh while those representing Hindu Bengali communities would join India. This approach still has its issues, and may still validate/justify the Partition in the eyes of some people, but I go for it because it fulfill my most important conditions-

Doesn't make any of the Bengal personifications outrageously young

The Bengal personifications are personified based on regional and cultural divides that predate colonialism and imperialism

Them having to consciously choose sides post-independence and having to separate from one another accurately reflects the artificiality of the Partition and how it split up communities.

That's just my take, ofc, as a non Bengali and as someone who hasn't done as much research into the region as I'd like to, feel free to disagree and choose whatever approach feels most accurate according to you and your research!!

[thevindicativevordan]

I'm conflicted about the Maker as a character. On one hand, he's a great dark reflection to 616 Reed. He's what Reed would be if he never were confronted by the damages his ego might cause (in 616 Reed's case, the fact that it was his ego that made his loved ones change forever, while the accident was Doom's fault in 1610). He is arrogant, selfish, hyper-competent and a super-scientist-genious who, instead of fiding solutions with humanizing elements to the world's problems like 616 Reed does, doesn't care about ethics or morality, instead trying to create a perfect world regardless of how many have to die or suffer for it, whom he doens't spare a second thought for or feel guilt about.

On the other hand, I feel that WHAT he is is more interesting then HOW he became this way and WHY, and I kinda need to know the how and why to fully understand and appreciate him. I've recentely read the Ultimate Doomsday trilogy and the reasons for Reed to turn bad, the turning point to be precise, and what he was plannig exactly were… unclear to me.

His demeanor seems to change according to the writter as well. I've read the first 12 issues of Ultimate Comics: Ultimates and Hickman writes him as calm and condescending, someone who doesn't show his strong emotions, which is great. But after Humphries start co-writing from issue 10 to 12, his characterization and voice change. He is much more extrovert, so to speak, more prone to showing emotions, and he seems more generic. Also, some writers write him as still loving Sue, while Hickman doesn't seem to write him that way (the Maker doesn't show interest for the Sue in Secret Wars and he kills 6160 Sue).

I think what I want to ask is: do you also think the Maker has been inconsistently written as a character? And do you also think that the why he does things and the how he became the way he is are necessary for enjoying/understanding his character?

Oh he's a fucking incoherent mess. As a concept he's great, as an evil Reed under Hickman he's great. As the evolution of Ultimate Reed he makes zero sense.

Bendis depiction of his "fall" was awful and incoherent. Under Bendis, Reed instantly becomes the type of guy willing to commit cold blooded murder against both his family and other heroes for no real reason. If Reed is pissed about the military controlling everything, why is he trying to kill Peter Parker? Shouldn't he be trying to kill Nick Fury and destroy SHIELD? That at least would make sense, Ultimate Nick Fury is a fucking awful person. Instead he murders his entire family instead of just his asshole dad because... I don't know, he's just evil now. A writer can't write someone smarter than them, and Bendis is just not the guy for tackling the world's smartest heroic mind descending into villainy. Reed's plan is dumb and paper thin.

A better approach would have been that Reed creates minions and has them attack various heroes and SHIELD, but only the attack on SHIELD is genuine. All the attacks on heroes are false flags designed to fail, Reed even has them attack himself and his home to make it look like he's a victim too. Only his dad gets killed because his dad was the one Reed hated. Reed's plan is to kill off the military handlers, and bring the heroes together to solve a threat by themselves, in hopes that everyone will see they don't need to be taking orders from SHIELD. Heroes can solve problems on their own. Reed also wants to reunite the Fantastic Four and thinks that this could remind the other three why they need each other. Of course the other heroes find out that Reed is responsible and attempt to bring him in, with Sue, Ben, and Johnny turning on him being what sends Reed off the deep end. He becomes the Maker and resolves to build a family in his image which will be what he wants them to be.

Other writers desperately tried to reconcile Ultimate Reed with how Bendis portrayed his fall but it just never worked. Hickman had the right approach, he threw Reed into the City where times passes at an accelerated rate to justify the changes. Maker isn't human anymore, not really. He's been alive for so long that his perspective on everything has changed - or so it seems. It's tough to talk about Maker in Ultimates because Hickman never got to finish his story. No doubt in my mind that the Maker storyline was meant to run for a while, but Humphries understandably didn't want to be saddled with another writer's storyline forever. My recollection is that Humphries worked off of Hickman's notes, and while the execution differed it's possible that some of what Humphries did was Hickman's intention.

Some of what Maker does under Hickman doesn't make sense if Maker is as cold and pure logic-based as he tries to come off as. For example the City is on Earth instead of the moon or whatever because the City needs a "solid foundation" which presumably means Earth like conditions. Ok - why the hell does Maker put his City in Europe? Why not Antarctica or some other remote location? In Hickman's New Avengers, Maker recreates the City in a remote region of South America, which means he had other options. Putting his City in Europe feels like he was itching for a fight. Obviously there was quite a bit of gap in time between when Hickman wrote those two issues, but then there's other odd behavior. Why does Maker insist on humiliating Thor by forcing Thor to serve as his messenger instead of just... sending a message? Why bring Falcon in and show off the City instead of kidnapping world leaders for the same effect? My belief is that Hickman does not intend for Maker to be pure logic. Spite is definitely a big part of what drives him. On some level Maker was clearly itching for revenge and for praise from his former comrades. He wanted to hurt them and impress them, or at least rub in their faces what he had achieved.

Wish Hickman would share what the original plans were, but if Humphries really was working off his notes I could totally buy that Maker was going to be brought down by a need to impress Sue. He'd bring her into the City to brag and flex on her, the jilted boyfriend simultaneously hoping to hurt her for leaving him and win her back, and she would bring him down. Unlikely that Hickman would have Reed outright admit that the way Humphries did, but as an undercurrent to his actions he may not even be aware of himself? Yeah I could buy that. As for why he doesn't care about the other Sues, he spells out in Secret Wars: they're not his Sue.

Even Hickman has him admit that he's wondered what his life would have been like if he had gotten the life 616 Reed did. Plus there's his whole torturing of 6160 Reed. He could have killed 6160 Reed along with the other three, but he didn't. Instead he turned the guy into Dr. Doom and attempted to break him. Why? What purpose does that serve? 6160 Reed knows Maker hates him but can't figure out why. My theory is that it's because Maker is trying to take a Reed who is similar to 616 Reed and transform the guy into a monster like him. It's his middle finger to 616 Reed. Maker wants to prove that 616 Reed isn't better than him, if Mr. Fantastic had lost his family and been put through hell like Maker had, he would break too. That 6160 Reed is, so far, not a monster like Maker pisses Maker off. It's not logical to keep 6160 Reed around, and doing so leads to Maker's fall.

Hope that long winded rant clarified my thoughts for you. Moving on to the second part, do we need to know the how and why of Maker to enjoy him? Depends on how he's used. Something like Cates' Venom run, no. Maker is just an Evil Reed there, we don't need his backstory to understand that he's a power hungry bastard out only for himself. Per Cates himself, Maker is there because he wanted a dark reflection of the Peter/Mr. Fantastic relationship, and it's enough that Maker is a villain working with a dark anti-hero Venom to help facilitate that. Now in Ultimate Invasion, yes you do need to understand the how and why. Problem is that it's not clear why Maker does a lot of what he does. His creation of the Ultimate Illuminati is explained and makes sense, but what is his endgame? What does he want 6160 to become? I can't tell you. No clue at all what his endgame is supposed to be. Does he want to turn the world into a global version of the City? Does he genuinely want to make a utopia? He seems content to let his underlings run their fiefdoms with a relatively free hand. 6160 America appears to be much more advanced thanks to the technocrats running things. Even allows Howard Stark and Bruce Banner to express misgivings about his rule. Public seems to think he's a great guy, presumably he didn't kill a shitload of people to build his society this time around. We needed more info on what his plans were and we didn't get them.

Maker is a fun character and also an inconsistent mess. One does not always preclude the other. Now my personal opinion is that he's approaching the end of his lifespan, I think Hickman needs to give him an ending. Whether that's death or something else I don't know, but a confrontation between Maker, Mr. Fantastic, and DoomReed is all that's left to do with him I feel. Hickman is really the only one who has used him to his full potential anyway. Give him a proper send-off to close the door on the old Ultimate Universe as we move into the new one.

[kaigarax]

Conviction

Or This is How to Open Up

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone brave."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for an optimal absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to open up.

---

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

What will we do with a drunken sailor?

Ear-ly in the morning!

Kaiser never cared much for the fanfare that was the life of a pirate. Sure, it made sense that men would want to enjoy themselves after week long journeys upon the perilous sea but overindulgence in anything couldn’t very well be considered healthy.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

The voices of the sailors were coming out more as incoherent slurs than intelligent phrases. Another reason to not find much enjoyment in the fanfare.

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Ear-ly in the morning!

Now, what Kaiser did enjoy was the feeling of being upon the sea. The exact reason why he stepped forth onto the ocean in the first place. One could even say that the only reason he endured such extravagant fanfare was because the sea felt more like home than any other place he’d ever been before.

And it’s not as though his crew was a nuisance to deal with either.

Most of them were respectable men, like himself. Knew when to keep to themselves and when they needed to interfere. Trained in somewhat of a formal education and were intelligent enough to keep the ship afloat through rough waters.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Other crews, in comparison, were not so appreciated.

Filled to the brim with men that likely couldn’t tell the difference between the ends of a broom. Loud, arrogant and crude. Not that Kaiser wasn’t exactly like those men, but he at least knew when to use his manners. Or whatever semblance of manners he managed to acquire in his time upon the ocean.

Now, the only semblance of enjoyment that Kaiser did get out of sailor fanfare (though he’d never admit it) was the… feminine company. Women, of course, were not allowed on sea unless one wished to incur the wrath of the ocean, but the various women one met on the islands were always a pleasure to meet. Ranging in a variety of complections and appearances but nonetheless beautiful.

This island, in particular, seemed to be teaming with various kinds of women. Many to his liking.

But none handsome enough to tempt him tonight.

Until, of course, his eyes land on you.

You’re a pretty thing, with your hair done up all nice. Not as nice as those fancy women that live in elegant cities but prettier than what the others down here have done. It’s neat but not over the top and Kaiser likes that. Your clothes aren’t as neat as your hair but look to be in a good enough condition. Probably meaning you come from a respectable enough family. Well, maybe not. You are out here tonight.

The most intriguing thing about you though has to be your smile. So calm and relaxed despite being surrounded by the loudest of men gathered here tonight.

There’s a book in your hand with cursive writing on the cover. Kaiser can barely make out the words Hunger Games on the cover. It had never been his cup of tea but he had given it a quick read through when he was young. Curious about what all the hype seemed to be.

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Put him in a longboat till his sober

Ear-ly in the morning!

When your eyes meet with his across the room he knows for certain that he has to make his way over to you. Maybe even get a dance in amongst the chaos.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Most of them get up to leave as Kaiser makes his way towards you, leaving all seats except for one empty. It’s a man with dark hair and blue eyes sitting beside you who looks to be fading in and out of sleep.

Kaiser takes this opportunity to sit beside you.

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Stick him a scupper with a hosepipe bottom

Ear-ly in the morning!

“What’s a pretty lass like you doing out here with a crew of no good pirates? Who knows what'll happen to you if there isn’t someone here to keep you safe?”

You laugh, a pretty laugh, “and am I much safer in your company, when you yourself happen to be flying under a black flag?”

Kaiser grins, “hundreds of times, lassie.”

“(Y/n).” You say, “not ‘lassie’, Pirate.”

It’s Kaiser’s turn to laugh. If you’re going to be cheeky then so is he, “privateer.”

“Privateer,” you say the word as if tasting something foreign, “now is that not fascinating. You don’t meet many Privateers this side of the sea. Or at least not many willing to claim the title.”

Kaiser can feel a jab somewhere in that sentence of yours but can’t quite seem to place it. Not while you’re looking up at him with such pretty eyes.

“Michale Kaiser,” he holds a hand out for you to shake.

You stare at his hand, your eyes sparkling with amusement, “And which do you prefer? Your surname or occupation?”

He leans back, “whichever the lassie prefers.”

“Privateer it is.”

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Ear-ly in the morning!

Your voice is delicate, as all ladies' voices tend to be, but loud enough to not be drowned out by the singing of drunken pirates. And Kaiser quite likes that. Likes how you lean forward when he speaks and keep your eyes on him as if you aren’t afraid of the danger he might bring despite your words saying otherwise.

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

That’s what we do with a drunken sailor

Ear-ly in the morning!

“How’d a sweet thing like you end up here in the first place? This ain’t no place a nobleman sends his daughter.” Kaiser asks.

“What gave me away?”

“Your words. Ain’t nobody on this side of the sea speaks that posh.”

You smile, “old habits die hard, I presume.”

“That still doesn't explain how ya got here.”

“It’s a trade secret, Privateer. You’re going to have to give me a secret of yours if you’re hoping for a secret of mine.”

“I’m an open book,” Kaiser answers, “everyone seems to know my secrets before me.”

“A Privateer and a reader.”

He grins, “And is that enough to impress ya?”

“Well you’re certainly unlike any other man I’ve met upon the seven seas.”

Take to the seas and set your sails.

Take to the sails to set your dreams.

And pray your life be filled with glee.

The loud and drunk pirates seemed to have finally ended their boisterous song about waking up drunk in the morning and have begun singing songs about dreams. The tune is mostly incoherent with various pirates attempting to silence the rest of the crowd as they step up to sing their solos.

I have a dream unlike any others.

Though maybe it’s just like yours.

Your eyes seem to sparkle at the newest song, despite that the words seem to be made up on the fly.

Amusement and joy.

It’s a pretty look, at least on your face.

I have a dream to learn to fly.

Though I’m burly and stuck to the ground.

Any dream can come true if you have enough pounds.

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

“What?” Kaiser asks.

Your amused expression seems to grow as you lean in towards Kaiser, “have you ever been in love?”

What a strange thing you’ve chosen to ask. Love has never been Kaiser’s strong suite. In fact, sometimes he doubts that he’s ever even been loved in the first place. A life on the seas has never been one meant for love.

“Why?” Kaiser shakes his head, “have you?”

“No,” you smile, “but it’s a pretty thought, ain’t it.”

“Yeah,” Kaiser agrees, “it is.”

I have a dream to play piano.

And sing like a soprano.

If only it didn’t make me so bored!

A large and burly man makes his way up to the two of you and Kaiser sits up in his seat. You don’t seem to be as worried as Kaiser as you lean back and begin to clap your hands along to this beat-less song.

The burly man stands right in front of you, “Ey, (Y/n), does this pretty boy sing?”

Kaiser’s eyes dart between the two of you, surprised at how familiar the pirate is with you and even more surprised at how you respond. Your name sounds familiar. Reminds him of something he knows he shouldn’t have forgotten. He doesn't have time to ponder on it for very long though as you throw him from the pan and into the fire.

You smile, “this pretty boy’s a Privateer.”

“Now he’s gotta sing!” The Pirate exclaims, calling the attention of the crowd.

The room’s chatter is suddenly halted, the eyes of everyone in the room turned to him. The band’s playing fills the silence but the lack of talking feels deafening. The only thing keeping Kaiser from running out the room (aside from his pride) are your bright eyes looking up at him, eagerly waiting to see what he might do next.

“Sing!”

The crowd seems to close in.

“Sing!”

A man brandishes a gun from the corner of the room.

“Sing!”

Kaiser sighs, before bellowing something out.

I have a dream to make it big.

Make my name infamous across the sea.

And have money?

Now, he isn’t all too sure what he belts out, nor is he certain it’s all that good but it seems to amuse the loud band of pirates gathered around her today. He knows he sings something about money and wanting to earn enough, which may not seem to be the best thing on the surface but they’re pirates. As if they’d care that much anyways.

And even if they did care it’s not as if their reactions would matter much to Kaiser anyways.

Well they might’ve mattered if he hadn’t seen the brilliant look in your eyes. Saw the way your entire face seems to light up and the gentle smile you send his way.

Then, in a very un-lady-like way, you jump up to the top of the table, surprising Kaiser with how easy it seems for you. You’re dressed in a short and simple blue dress. The blue looks a little faded but its colour is still vibrant enough to capture the attention of the entire room. Your attention, on the other hand, seems to be entirely on Kaiser.

It makes his heart skip a beat.

When you begin singing it feels as though everything around them has stopped. That everyone has halted their actions (even breathing) in an attempt to commit your voice to memory. Your voice is the clearest one Kaiser’s ever heard. Dreamy and enchanting. He’d most certainly claim you to be a siren if not for the fact that you’re standing here in front of them with two legs. Though the argument could be made otherwise.

I have a dream.

I have a dream.

I want to see this world from bow to stern.

Your dream, to see this world, it’s not exactly earth shattering or as awe inspiring as your singing itself (and if anything it’s a little cliche) but Kaiser’s heart warms at that. It feels genuine. So different from his own words.

And maybe then I’ll find my earn.

Amongst the chaos in this world.

Where even children can have their lives twirled.

This melody less song suddenly has ground. The other singers attempt to repeat some semblance of what you’ve managed to create but none come even close. A young girl, perhaps a barmaid, makes her way to you, her eyes gleaming.

“Are you a Princess?” She asks.

You laugh, “in another life.”

“Marigold,” the burly pirate laughs, “this little lassie here ain’t no princess. She’s a Pirate through and through.”

The young girl’s (and Kaiser’s) mouths drop.

“Captain (Y/n) of the Dream Pirates.”

You are everything a pirate is not. You’re a lady. Delicate and gentle. Warm and polite. So unlike the loud and burly men gathered here tonight. How you even ended up with these folk is already mind scratching enough and now to hear that you aren’t just a lady that’s been swept up in their mess but rather a Pirate Captain.

Actually, he takes that back.

The Dream Pirates, while a stupid name seems to fit you well. You are, in every sense of the word, a dream.

A wonder.

A marvel.

“Cat got your tongue, Privateer?” You ask, your eyes sparkling.

Kaiser grins, “you have a loose thread on your dress, Lassie.”

“Do I?” You look down to the blue thread Kaiser pointed to. “Huh, I suppose I do.”

“And how do you plan to thank me?”

You lean down and pull it loose before dropping down and grabbing Kaiser’s hand. You wrap the blue string around his hand before tying it around his wrist. You smile, “as a token of my appreciation.”

Fall in love with someone brave.