#‘so you think murder is okay’ DID NOT SAY THAT. I SIMPLY DO NOT THINK LYING IS WORTHY OF BEING EXILED AND HAVING UR CHILDREN DIE

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of Honey (Geta x Lucius) 18+

Summary: Before Geta gets on a ship to Sardinia to visit his uncle, he and Lucius spend time together and have some deep talks and intimate bonding time.

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, Part 4, Part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Authers note: For all the anxious souls sending me messages about Dondus and Caracalla: I did not forget about them but I must ask you to have patience please :) All will be clear in the end!

Warnings (contains spoilers): 18+ MDNI, childhoodtrauma, mentioning of inc*st in the past, loads of fluff and heavy smutt, you are warned.

"I... I have to tell you something." Geta propped himself up on his elbows, the book now resting face-down on his chest. He yawned, clearly not thinking much of it. "What is it?"

Lucius swallowed, contemplating if he could retreat and offer a half-truth instead. But there was no use. "There is a growing opposition to my rule... in your name. People in the northern provinces are dissatisfied with the new ways, clinging to how it was before." Lucius searched Geta's face, but it remained blank. He cleared his throat. "It's most likely led by someone in the old senate, dissatisfied with his current position and lack of influence—and wealth."

Geta frowned. "Do you know who?"

"No. No names yet."

"Mmm. Interesting."

"What do you mean?" Geta looked at him with a pensive expression. "I... I don't know what you want me to say." Geta's voice sounded drained, completely disinterested in the conversation. Annoyed, almost. Lucius shook his head in confusion. "I guess I thought... we thought it was best you heard it from me." He sat up, all passion and warmth draining from the room like the tide receding from the shore. "I suppose I am... curious how you feel about it." Lucius looked at his hands, feeling awkward. So much had changed. When they first talked in his study months ago, he couldn't have cared less about Geta's thoughts. Geta sighed and sank back into the cushions. "I don't know, Lucius." He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know." Lucius lay down next to him on his side, head propped up on his elbow. He glanced at Geta's hand spread out over the cover of the book, hiding the painted sea creatures from view.

"I'm too tired to put my thoughts into words properly right now, but..." Geta put the book next to him and turned on his side. "If you're worried that I want to join those troops and turn my back on you, the answer is no." Lucius looked at him, searching his eyes. “Okay.” He nodded and turned on his back. “We can talk about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Geta didn’t reply for a long time, then started speaking again.

"When my brother and I ruled, we rarely slept a full night," he explained. He seemed sleepy, and Lucius felt a little guilty for having brought it up at 2 in the morning.

"There was always the danger of being murdered in our sleep. We knew the stories, how our uncles, cousins, and nieces suddenly disappeared or turned up dead. We kept watch, taking turns to sleep—well, I more often than Caracalla..." He smiled faintly, as if recalling a specific memory. "For me, being in that position was never about power because we never truly had any. We were manipulated, forced into symbolic roles from birth. Ruling, for me, was simply waiting for death and who would betray us first." "But you're not safe here either." Lucius placed his hand over the scar on Geta’s midriff. "You were attacked here too." Geta nodded slowly, an intense gaze in his beautiful brown eyes. "But not by my own people," he said. His eyes swept over Lucius' face, softening. "It's a big difference." He added, placing a hand on Lucius's cheek, thumb sliding over his bottom lip. "Remember how you wanted to put me on trial a few months back?" he asked. "I do." His eyes left Lucius's mouth. "I don't mind being beneath you in rank," he said. "But I do want you to treat me as an equal. Don't force me to stay or do things I don't want to do. Freedom is most important to me." Lucius nodded. "I know." "Good." Geta let his hand drop down on the sheets. "Did I answer your question?" "Yes, you did. Thank you." Geta yawned. "Can we sleep now?" Lucius turned on his back. "Yes." Geta came closer and lay down on his chest. Lucius took the sheet and pulled it over both their bodies, then slid his fingers into the soft curls on the back of his scalp, scratching gently until Geta fell asleep.

Lucius stirred awake as sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. It had been a strange night—Geta had been restless, mumbling in his sleep and tossing about, keeping Lucius awake. As he waited for him to wake, Lucius decided it was time to ask him the question he'd been meaning to for a while. "What happened with you and your mother?" Lucius asked when Geta was awake for long enough to stretch and open his eyes fully. "What do you mean?" "You talk to her, in your sleep. Often." Lucius explained. "Oh." Geta rubbed his eyes. "She, uh..." He stretched his arms over his head, groaning softly, then turned on his side to look Lucius in the eyes. "She was hard to be around, I suppose." "What do you mean?" "She was kind of all over the place." Geta waved with his hand. "She was either cruel... calling us names, pushing us away, ignoring us..." He frowned, clearly uneasy delving into those memories. "Or she would be too... sweet." "Too sweet?" "Yes." Geta didn’t say anything for a long while, just stared into the distance, brow furrowed and jaw tense. "She could turn into the complete opposite in a matter of minutes," he continued, "often after she would have hurt us badly." Geta looked away. "She would say sweet things and be very... touchy." Lucius felt nauseous, already sensing where this was headed. "You mean..." "Yes. All over," Geta replied curtly. "Even if you said no?" It was more a statement than a question. Geta nodded, tears pooling in his eyes now. "I am so sorry." Lucius swallowed, immediately regretting that he had asked. "You don't have to talk about it." Geta sniffled softly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Lucius didn’t know what to do, thought that maybe the last thing Geta wanted now was to be held. So he just stayed silent. After a while of watching him cry into the pillow, he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him into his arms. "Shh," he whispered, holding him close. "That’s all in the past. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again." He kept stroking Geta’s back and shoulders, wishing he had been there to protect him and his brother Caracalla from the terrible people around them, giving them a better childhood. When Geta calmed down, he lifted his head from the crook of Lucius’s neck. "You know... I often wished your mother was mine." He looked up at Lucius. "That she would adopt us." Lucius raised his eyebrows. Geta shook his head, resting his cheek against Lucius’s shoulder again. "It’s weird. I’ve known her longer than you." Lucius frowned, staring ahead. "It is." "She was kind. And warm." Lucius nodded, thinking of his mother and how strange it was that, for part of their childhoods, they had shared the same one. "Do you miss her?" Geta inquired softly. "Terribly so." "I'm sorry. I miss her too." Lucius nodded. They stayed like that, their breaths in sync, keeping each other company in their sadness. After a while, Lucius suggested, "We should have something to eat and then head to the beach. What do you think? I feel like going for a swim." "That sounds like a splendid idea," Geta agreed, pushing himself up.

After getting dressed, they had breakfast together and headed to the beach to spend the afternoon and evening there. It was a warm day, and when they arrived, covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sea offered a welcome plunge of freshness. They dove underwater, the clear water surrounding them, and Lucius felt content. He looked at Geta’s skin, which was beginning to turn slightly sun-kissed. No matter what he had been through, Geta somehow maintained that elegant, prince-like essence and radiant air. Lucius reached out and grabbed his ankle, giving it a gentle tug. Geta, accustomed to Lucius’s ways, let him do it, calmly allowing him to press his lips against the soft ball of his foot and toes. There was no tension, only simple surrender and trust. They surfaced for air, clinging to each other as if they could never get enough—which, truthfully, they couldn’t.

The next day, they resumed their fighting lessons, and the day after that as well. Two weeks passed, and Geta began to develop new muscles in his arms and back. They had started sleeping in separate rooms again to avoid drawing attention to their bond, but it seemed futile. Everyone already knew that if one of them were taken, the other would be broken beyond repair.

Some mornings, one of them would sneak into the other’s room to spend time wrapped in each other’s arms.

"I hate that I can't sleep here anymore," Geta said one morning when Lucius had to leave for battle. "I hate it too," Lucius confessed. Geta buried his head in the crook of Lucius’s armpit. "What on earth are you doing?" Lucius asked with a chuckle. "I like it here. You smell nice." He wrapped his arms around Lucius’s waist. "When will you return?" "In a week or so. Just some small raids and checking the repaired forts." "Okay."

A week later, Lucius returned bearing new scars and the good news of victory. Geta waited for him by the gate, his eyes bright with excitement but keeping his distance. He had grown used to the unspoken rules of how they now interacted in public.

As they walked inside, a young man with blond hair and dark blue eyes, whom Lucius did not recognize, approached them. "Geta?" the young man called out. Lucius took him in. He wore a finely made tunic of deep blue material, matching his eyes, decorated with silver fish. It was clear he was of higher rank, though his accent was hard to place. Geta raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" The man cleared his throat. "I have a message for you. From your uncle." He handed him a letter sealed with beeswax. Geta accepted it. "Thank you." Lucius observed as Geta broke the seal and opened the letter. The tension in his shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw—it was clear he wanted nothing to do with it. The message was short, and seconds later, Geta folded the paper and handed it over. "Alright," he replied in a serious tone. "I'll make sure I'm ready in the morning." Lucius frowned. Ready in the morning? He was leaving so soon? "Perfect, my highness. I will wait at the shore." Highness? Lucius thought to himself. That's how he still referred to him? Geta gave a short nod, and the young man disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Lucius and Geta went their separate ways in the halls and prepared for the festivities held in the garden. Lucius felt a slight unease at the thought of Geta leaving the following morning but couldn't place what exactly made him nervous. They found each other outside as the light faded, torches illuminating the pillars and olive trees stretching throughout the garden. Geta was dressed in white and buttercup yellow, one bare shoulder showing his scar. It pleased Lucius that he was starting to accept them, but it also worried him as it was a display of vulnerability. They stared at each other for a bit, not saying anything. Lucius wanted to speak to him before his departure but decided to save it for later and went to look for Laurentius and Marcus to discuss the events of the past week as Geta went looking for Marcella.

Almost an hour later, they reunited near the fountain. "How are you feeling?" Lucius asked, taking Geta's hand and giving it a soft squeeze. "You alright?" "Yes, I'm alright." Geta erplied, "Dreading it, but alright." "You'll be fine. You’ll have some nice, fancy dinners... eat some Sardinian fish, talk to your uncle a bit, and then you'll return home. To me," Lucius reassured him. Geta smiled. "Sounds good." Lucius desperately wanted to ask what precisely was in the message to make Geta agree so fast, but didn’t want to pry, so he let it be. "I should get some sleep," Geta decided, looking around the garden at the guests drinking wine and dancing. Nobody was paying attention to them. "You can stay of course." Lucius rubbed the inside of Geta's wrist with his thumb, wanting to understand what was going on in his mind. "Alright." He pressed a swift kiss on top of his head. "I'll walk you to the harbor tomorrow." Geta breathed in. "I'd like that."

That night, Lucius lay down on his bed, unclothed. It was too hot for even the thinnest of night garments. He was deep in thought, feeling pathetic over how sad he was about Geta's impending departure, reminding himself that it was only for a week or two. Then suddenly, he heard soft voices on the other side of the door. He got dressed quickly, walked over, and pressed his ear against the wood. His guards were talking to someone. Lucius strained his ears, then shook his head.

It was Geta.

He opened the door and took him in. He was standing there in his blue nightrobe, hair disheveled and a look in his eyes Lucius could not place. Lucius gestured with his head for him to come inside, and Geta immediately walked forward and pressed his lips to his. Lucius kicked the door closed.

"It's dangerous, what you're doing, Geta," he murmured. "I don't care," Geta insisted and kept kissing him all over. "What is with you?" Lucius grinned. "I don't know." Geta bit down on Lucius’s bottom lip, making him wince. "I feel weird." "Nervous?" "Something like it." "Want me to distract you?" Lucius requested between kisses, already feeling heat pooling low in his stomach. "Yes, please." Lucius groaned softly. "Okay." He pulled back and sat down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to the middle of the room. "Undress," he ordered.

Geta's eyes widened slightly, then the corner of his mouth tipped up slightly.

Lucius stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. "I want to look at you." Geta walked over to the spot Lucius pointed at and started untying his robe, pushing it down his shoulders, down his chest, his waist, his hips...

Lucius swallowed, leaning back on his hands. He could never get enought of the sight of Geta's naked form, the way he moved— unselfconscious, confident and utterly captivating. Geta stepped out of the fabric and straightened, a hint of shyness suddenly returning, cheeks flushing pink.

“You’re staring,” he said softly, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed that he didn’t mind.

“I can’t help it,” Lucius admitted, standing and closing the space between them. "I can never help it." He reached out, placing a hand on the side of his hip.

"Turn around." Lucius ordered gently and then tapped the inside of Geta's foot. 'Spread sligtly.' Geta stepped wider. Lucius walked around him and went to his knees, put a hand on his lower back to push him forward a little.

'Let me take care of you." His voice was soft. He reached out to take Geta's hands and put them on either side of his butt. "Spread please."

Geta whined at the sound of that and did as his was told, opening himself up.

Lucius moved closer and stuck out his tongue, licking inbetween the valley of his cheeks from the bottem to the top.

Geta let out a gutteral moan, wanting to collapse forward.

'Nuh-uh, stay upright darling." Lucius demanded and wrapped his hand around Geta's thighs to steady him. He licked him again, closer and closer to where he wanted him most, then pressed in slightly.

"Relax." He mumbled, pushing deeper. Geta's breathing turned laboured. He kept wriggling and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

Lucius squeezed his inner thigh, massaging upward. Geta's breath hitched, making Lucius chuckle.

Geta whimpered. "Please."

"Mmm." Lucius kept licking, reveling in the way he felt, tasted, the sounds he made. Geta's hand came to lay on top of Lucius, a plea for more.

Lucius pulled back a litlle. "Okay lay down on the bed."

Geta got up, using Lucius shoulder to steady himself and walked over, then lay down stretched out on his back.

Lucius shook his head. "No on your tummy."

Geta did as he was told and Lucius lowered himself inbetween his legs. "I am going to put a finger inside of you. Is that okay?"

"Yes." Geta breathed.

Lucius bent over the slope of his ass and spit, wachting the saliva disappear in the crease. He licked his ringfinger, slipped it inbetween, and started rubbing small circles. Then he pushed it in slightly, fully tuned in to Geta's reactions.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

Geta nodded.

"I need your consent in words, sweetheart."

"Yes." Geta groaned in the pillow.

"Good." Lucius pushed in deeper, waiting for Geta to adjust before he pushed it in in it's entirety. He stayed there for a moment, pushed to the hilt, before slowly moving it in and out while gaging Geta's reactions. Geta started grinding his hips against the sheet slowly, face still burried in the pillow.

"I need more." he ground out, teeth clenched, desperate.

Lucius tried adding his middlefinger. "You're too tight honey." He rubbed his hand over his lower back. "You need time to adjust. No use in rushing."

"You dont know what my uncle will do to me." Geta whined. "He might kill me."

"No he wont." Lucius said. "You will come back and we will do much more of this." Lucius kissed the left cheek of his ass, then bit into him, soothing the sting after with tongue. "Now think of other things and close your eyes." Lucius replaced his ringfinger with his middle one, which made Geta gasp for air like a fish on dry land.

He kept grinding against the sheets, desperate for fricture. Lucius loved seeing him this desperate. When he felt Geta was reaching his limit he pulled his finger out, flipped him over. Geta was breathless, eyes closed, somewhere else completely.

"You don't have to hold on Geta." Lucius said, then stroked the length of him. Even the slightest touches made his face contort like he was in pain almost. "You can let go, I am right here. I will hold you thought it." He pressed his lips against his lower belly, then licked his finger and pushed it in again. "You are safe." He ghosted his lips over his skin. "With me, you’ll always be safe."

These words pushed Geta over the edge and he came making a desperate sound, spilling all over his belly. Lucius took him in, the way his hands clenched around the linen, the way his hips came off the mattress, then down again. He wished he could stay in this moment forever. He moved his lips down the inner part of Geta's legs listening how Geta's breathing slowly came back to normal and his eyes fluttered open.

Lucius, still clothed, took him in his arms and held him untill he was fully aware of his surroundings again. He brushed a stray lock of hair from Geta’s forehead.

"Are you ready to sleep?" He asked. "You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow. Geta looked at him, cheeks still flushed and shook his head.

"No." He took in a sharp breath. "I want to see you touch youself." His voice was low and sensual, full of longing. "I have thought about it for so long. I want to see you now."

Lucius swallowed. He looked around the room, feeling uncertain. No one had ever watched him do that. Not even Arishat. He looked at Geta who looked at him with eyes full of expextation. Lucius gave a quick nod and got up from the bed. He took a few steps, turned around and slowly started to undress himself. When he was fully naked he sat down on his knees again and took himself in his right hand. At first he kept his eyes closed, but then he opened them. Geta was lying on the bed, propped up on his elbows, lips wet and slightly parted. His legs were stretched out in front of him, feet dangling over the edge. Geta looked at him intently, following every move.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are." Geta said, eyes almost sad.

Lucius kept his eyes on him as he started moving his hand up and down, skin warming. Geta's chest was rising and falling quicker and quicker until suddenly he got up and walked over to him. He lowered himself in front of Lucius. His hand went to his jaw and he stroked the seem of Lucius lips, just as he had done before.

'Can I spit in your mouth?' he asked then, as if it was the most natural thing.

Lucius swallowed and nodded.

"Don't stop touching yourself please.' Geta whispered as he got closer and smoothed the hair from Lucius' face.

'Now open your mouth.'

Lucius did as he was told and parted his lips.

Instead of spitting, Geta opened his mouth and waited as his saliva dribbled in. Lucius groaned and swallowed, reaching up to lick the rest off his bottomlip and tongue, drinking him in. He wanted more more more.

Geta shook his head and pushed him down.

'No." He shook his head again, a grin playing on his lips. "Keep touching yourself. I want to see you come."

Lucius did not know why he listened. He was way stronger than Geta, he could do anything he wanted to him. Yet he reveled in Geta's power and prince-like arrogance. He was royalty at heart after all.

Lucius quickened his movements, jerking his hips slightly upward into his hand.

He was getting close now, and Geta could sense it. He walked behind him and sat down, chest pressed up against his warm back. He dropped his chin on Lucius shoulder.

'Here. Let me finish.' He gently pulled Lucius' hand away and replaced it with his. Lucius whimpered and let his head drop backwards. Geta started moving his hand in the same rhythm and pressed his lips against his ear.

''Let go.' Geta whispered. "Let me take care of you now."

Lucius groaned softly and tried to hold back, but he was defensless against Geta's soft but firm grip, his low whispers and his hips pressing up against his backside.

"Come for me, Lucius. It's okay."

And he did. His awareness slipped for a moment and all he felt was warmth, light and bliss. He felt both extatic, and completely held. Geta kissed his neck, hands rubbing over his chest and lower abdomen.

"Feels nice hmm?" Geta breathed into the skin of his neck.

Lucius was unable to reply, everything felt warm and fuzzy. He had never in his life let himself go like that. He wondered if he should feel emberrassed.

Geta traced the outer shell of his ear with his tongue. "Thank you." He murmured. "Thank you for letting me look at you and touch you."

Lucius felt a little lost in everything he felt and could not place. He turned around and took Geta into his arms. I love you. He thought. But he did not say it. I love you felt like a goodbye. Like it was the last time he'd be able to say it. And that couldn't be. So instead he said: "Let's try to get some sleep."

Geta nodded against his shoulder. "Yes."

----

The next morning, Lucius walked Geta to the harbor.

The water was emerald green and shimmered under the summer sun. It was a beautiful day, but neither of them cared.

A small ship waited close to shore, with a smaller boat ready to take Geta to it. The blonde man stood by the water’s edge, waves almost touching his boots. Lucius wanted to kiss Geta goodbye, but he knew better. He didn’t trust the young man, nor the fishermen milling around nearby.

Geta pulled Lucius into a tight hug, burying his face in his shoulder.

“We have to say goodbye far too often,” Geta said, his voice low. “I’m starting to hate it more than anything.”

Lucius pressed him closer, his chest aching. “I know.”

Geta pulled away first, his eyes dropping to the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced at the boat waiting for him.

“I guess it’s time,” he said with a sigh.

Lucius Squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Geta managed a weak smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He hesitated, then met Lucius’s eyes. “Last night was special to me Lucius." His eyes searched Lucius's, looking for confirmation perhaps that he felt the same.

Lucius swallowed, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. “As it was to me.”

They stood there in silence, caught in the weight of the moment. Lucius noticed the blonde man watching them from the corner of his eye and sighed. “You better go.”

Geta nodded, his steps reluctant as he walked toward the boat. “See you soon.”

Lucius dipped his chin in agreement. “See you soon,”

Please let me hear your thought in the comments :) <3

Taglist: @potato1d-blog1 , @joan2914, @maryan028

[stellaclaw]

boiling hot take but i literally dont give a fuck that mapleshade let the clan believe her kits were birchfaces. her clanmates can be mad but exiling a queen and her kits is fucking deranged i dont care what lie she told. “she deserved what she got” her kids deserved to die because their mom fibbed??😭 her kids deserved to die because their mom did crimes LATER???😭😭 “um but she chose to cross the river” if i was orpheus i would simply not turn around.

[quadrantadvisor]

Hey. I don't know anything about comics and I've only ever read random sporadic issues/storylines, so don't listen to anything that I have to say. But I think there was a Joker storyline recently in which there were two Jokers and one of them killed the other, bringing into question whether the current Joker is the original or someone else, and whether or not that distinction even matters when the Joker still exists.

The funniest thing to do at this point (not that I would want to happen or think would or could happen, but what I think would be FUNNY,) is if the Joker got redeemed. A gradual 100% face turn, just changes his mind and becomes a generally nice and helpful dude. And only THEN reveals that he is definitely a different guy from the original Joker.

What I enjoy about this is that it means that Jason and Bruce are simultaneously both right. Was the Joker an irredeemable monster who deserved to die? Yup! The guy who killed Jason was absolutely that and it's a good thing this other guy killed him. Can even the worst person imaginable change their ways, meaning that empathy and life are always the moral choice? Yes! Even the Joker can realize how wrong he was and recover. Both perspectives get irrefutable proof of their legitimacy. Bruce and Jason's relationship has never been worse.

[montanabohemian]

so yesterday i had someone comment on a post i made on IG telling me how "offended" they were because i'd simply ended my post with the phrase "end the occupation and free palestine." so much of what they said was actually insane racist islamophobic bullshit and they managed to end their comment by calling all muslims terrorists and literally parroted the "they want to kill americans" fucking horseshit.

the person that made this comment was by someone i've literally known since grade school. i'm not close friends with them but i've gotten to know them over the years and never once thought they'd say anything like this. i actually thought it was a bot account for like a full minute.

i'm sadly not surprised at the rhetoric because that's where we are. we're right back to twenty years ago during the post 9/11 / war in iraq / war on terror fervor kicked off. i'm just. i had to fight this shit twenty years ago and here we are all over again, except this time with the added benefit of fucking social media.

if simply saying "free palestine" is so inflammatory for you, then that is your fucking problem to work through.

[fiercynn]

okay, if you have ever made or reblogged a “hold your nose and vote for biden” post, this is for you.

here’s the fucking thing about these kinds of posts. i've been seeing them since i first returned to tumblr in, I think, late 2022? they've certainly increased in frequency since october 7, but they were there before too, ready to counter any kind of opposition to biden that has cropped up. many of them are not just trying to educate people about what positive things biden has done, which, like, at least I can understand the motivation behind those ones? but so many of them are directly in response to people criticizing biden, and their only real point is “sure you’re upset at this thing biden did, but have you considered the election?” starting YEARS before the next presidential election, mind you.

and october 7 only made that clearer. i don’t think it had been a week before i saw these posts cropping up. can you not see how fucking ghoulish that is? to look at the rightful pain and anger of those whose relatives and communities are being slaughtered with active american support, to respond to one of the few pieces of agency most americans have in influencing what their governments do – their vote – by saying “yes but trump would be worse.” as if the primary people you’re lecturing – palestinians, muslims, arabs, black people, indigenous people, disabled people, other marginalized people – don’t remember exactly how bad it was under trump!

and even if you think not voting is an empty gesture – something i, who studied political science at a mainstream american lib college, who has worked as a field organizer on a previous democratic presidential campaign and for several policy campaigns, who currently works in public policy in america, used to believe, but have absolutely changed my mind on – what is in no way an empty gesture is saying publicly that you will not vote for someone. the arguments people usually have about why simply not voting is bad are that you can’t tell why someone is not voting, so it is as likely to be apathy or disenfranchisement as it is a political statement. but saying publicly that you will not vote for someone, and why you will not vote for them, absolutely is a political statement, and potentially a powerful one! but you choose to negate and/or ignore that by trotting out the “lesser of two evils” bullshit.

and then there’s the whole “yes but people will DIE under trump”. PEOPLE ARE DYING NOW. even if you’re fucking racist and have decided that palestinian lives don’t count, have you forgotten biden’s ongoing covid minimalism and dismantling of the CDC’s covid research and prevention infrastructure? have you forgotten his increase in spending for law enforcement scant years after the murder of george floyd and his administration's surveillance of protesters, including cop city protesters? have you forgotten his recent ramp-up in deportations of undocumented immigrants, including the active continuation of many trump-era policies?

maybe you have forgotten all those things and do purport to care about palestinians, but you just think that biden is doing his best to influence netanyahu and is getting nowhere! but then you must have forgotten all of the things that biden and his administration themselves have done to further this fucking genocide, including:

continuing to send arms to israel

putting together a military task force within days of yemen’s red sea blockade and attacking yemeni ships

bombing yemen

bombing syria

bombing iraq

vetoing three ceasefire resolutions at the united nations

testifying to defend israel and its genocide and occupation at the international court of justice

refusing to rescue palestinian-americans stuck in gaza

halting funding to the united nations relief and works agency for palestinian refugees (UNRWA) based on israeli claims that 12 of UNRWA’s over 30,000 staff were hamas agents, even though u.s. intelligence has not been able to independently verify this

lying that he’s personally seen photos of babies beheaded by hamas when he hadn’t because they didn’t exist (and even when his own staff cautioned him that reports of beheaded babies may not be credible)

questioning the number of palestinian deaths reported by the gaza ministry of health (when even israel has not questioned them, since they are in fact proud of those numbers)

perpetuating lies about hamas having committed the attack on al-aqsa hospital

questioning united nations reports of adults and children raped by israeli soldiers while claiming to have proof (that no one else has seen) of hamas doing the same

honestly so many more things that i can’t remember them all but others feel free to add

or maybe you haven’t forgotten any of that, and think that you’re still justified in lecturing people about why they should vote for biden, because you genuinely believe trump would still be worse. if that is the case, you have still failed to see that by saying you will vote for biden no matter what, you are part of the problem of biden continuing to act like this. because biden is counting on fear of trump to win him this next election no matter what else he does. despite his appalling polling numbers, despite the knowledge that he is losing the palestinian-american vote, the arab-american vote, the muslim-american vote, the black american vote, the youth vote – despite all of that, he is secure in the idea that he will still win because he is better than trump. can you not see how that allows him to act without impunity? how it becomes increasingly impossible for his base to influence what he’s doing if he thinks that they will be with him no matter what? this is how you make yourself complicit to biden’s actions, by not affording anyone even the slightest power to hold him accountable for anything.

and in most cases, the “hold your nose and vote for biden” thing is the response of people who aren’t even being instructed by others not to vote for biden. it is their response to people saying they themselves are choosing not to vote for biden. fucking ghoulish.

[teeskzagain]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ sweet, sweet dreams

• in which your brother’s perverted friend decides to help you out one night.

• warnings: pervy! wooyoung (like really) dry humping, somnophilia, (wooyoung finishing inside his pants and on you) light slut shaming. lowkey delusional woo.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

wooyoung repeats over and over, quietly under his breath as his grip around you intensifies. fuck, he knows this is wrong. so damn wrong. if you were to wake up and find him in such a compromising position, he just knew you would scream bloody murder.

you. his best friend’s little sister. the girl who never put up with his teasing and sure as hell was never afraid to hit back harder with insults. the girl who could hold her own against her older brother and himself when needed to. and now, the one who’s getting humped into oblivion by a clingy, insatiable wooyoung.

he hadn’t meant for this to happen. he just wanted to see if you’d been up this late, maybe pick on you a bit with a few crude jokes. after yunho clocked out on him, the poor boy had been left bored with nothing to do. so naturally his mind began to wander off, and onto you.

it started off as a simple jester, curiosity even. upon entering your room (he had knock but there wasn’t a reply) wooyoung was met instantly with a sleepy version of you, curled up within your blankets as your leg draped above the fuzzy material. well, there goes that plan. of course you and your brother had similar sleeping habits, how annoying. now what was he supposed to do?

he raked his gaze over your slumped body. a part of him could admire this peaceful stature. no crass remarks departing from you, no rude gestures to indicate some sort of annoyance towards him. you simply just laid, unmoving and silent. and if he really allowed himself to trail off in thought, maybe he could even see just how cute you were. but, that’s dangerous thinking.

a slight shake to the head broke his concentration and soon he realized it’s getting a bit creepy the way he’s standing at your door frame watching you. better if he left now, before anyone could call him the sorts. right as he turned to go, rustling from a far causes him to freeze, followed by a low groan.

“no, no, i…”

hardly any motion to him, wooyoung peered over his shoulder and slightly above a whisper he called out to you, “y/n-ah, you okay?”

but there wasn’t reply. at least, not a decipherable one. you continued to mumble softly amongst yourself, head swiping back and forth leisurely before speaking up once more.

“mmrgh.…come here.” your last word was breathy and it makes his body stiffen. did you know he was in here? had he accidentally waken you up?

another airy moan leaves your lips, “stay…”

“hey, what are you saying?” without thinking, he stalks up towards the bed, ready to make eye contact with a present body, yet to his surprise your eyes remained shut and still. you had moved around some more, shifting your torso away from him and darting out a knee. mumbling out over and over, ‘stay’.

wooyoung stumbled back in disbelief. are you dreaming right now? could you somehow feel his presence despite whatever deep slumber you were currently in? and here you were asking for someone to stay. were you…..speaking to him?

more movements from you caused him to look down at you, watching as you further arched your back as a means of getting comfortable. he knew he shouldn’t. but in a quick motion does his focus drop down to your round ass currently out for him to see. he didn’t let himself enjoy the view for much longer, with wooyoung snapping out of his minor trance quickly.

what is he supposed to do now?

as perplexed as wooyoung is, his question was swiftly answered as he noticed your body started to shiver and little hicks were produced. mini mews filled his ears and the once idled, unmoving y/n he previously admired stirred to life, yet you were still absolutely completely asleep. begging someone to stay with you.

“you little-” he half-muttered, immediately lowering himself to the vacant side of your bed, “and you still manage to get your way even when sleeping, insane.” it wasn’t long before wooyoung wiggled himself closer towards you, all in the hopes of fulfilling whatever it is that you were yearning for, and at the moment contact was made, you wasted no time in stretching your back against him. you two fit together perfectly, like connecting puzzle pieces.

he slung an arm over you, which over time caused your shivers to go down, after a while your mutters disappeared back into silence, and soon you had been at peace just as you were before. wooyoung had done enough. embraced what he needed to, helped out like he meant for. just like how any good, determined friend would when aiding their friend’s little sister.

but, goddamn, he really couldn’t help himself.

if anything, why did you have to wear such skimpy, tight shorts to bed. ones that were practically glued to your ass and outlined every, single, detail. nothing was hidden, not even your plush, thick pussy lips that he could feel just barely hovering over his crotch. it drove him mad.

so, what started off as a slow graze of his hips ~ he just wanted to cop a little feel and nothing more ~ turned to a subtle rocking. subtle rocking, however, soon became not so subtle, his rhythm picking up gradually until-

“all your fucking fault,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut to fully bask in the pleasure of feeling your clothed body slam hard against his clothed cock. his wrapped arms around your torso provides good security as he buries his head deeper into your shoulder, “had to go and make me so horny, ah-!”

you shifted once more in your sleep which caused one of his thrusts to land right onto your cunt, sending a delicious buzz soaring throughout his body. he can’t stop at this point. no, he won’t. he’s too far gone to even think about ending this euphoric scene. his head is jumbled, but only with the harsh thoughts of getting off. the needy, and desperate kind.

one of his legs swing over yours, changing the angle at where his bulge reaches. he’s grinding hard against your backside. the kind of grinding that only a dog in a panting heat would do, “just had to tell me to stay, huh?”

he’s utterly aroused. pre-cum dribbles from his tip and seeps through his underwear and his shorts, spreading disgustingly around his pelvis. it fuels him more. knowing that his remains are being discarded onto you, marking you of someone sort. he loves this.

“you secretly wanted this, yeah?” voice muffled, he lifts his head to mutter lowly into your ear now, “such a needy slut for your brother’s friend. letting me fuck you with my clothes on like this, what the hell y/n-ah?” streaks of his leftovers coat your ass, the sounds of his bucks now squishy and squelching into the air.

it all starts to become too much for him. the running tingles shooting through his vein, the overwhelming sensation of knowing that it’s you that got him to this point, all of it leaves him a moaning mess. he doesn’t even care for the repercussions at this point, he’s just desperate to let out all of his sticky load and cover you.

your cunt collides with his erection in a way that makes his head spin in pleasure. the continuous bouncing now causing his eyes to flutter gently as they roll back. your thick flesh of ass hitting his crotch over and over and over again. a guttural sigh escapes him.

“think i’m gonna….” he ruts faster and deeper into you, fully succumbing to the temptation, “fuck, you’re about to make me me cum, y/n-ah.”

and at last, with the biggest force of probably all night, does he drive his hips and hold your ass to him, oozing wet cum from his pants. he keeps the two of in that position as he grunts out the full length of his semen onto your ass, groaning and mewling during it all, till eventually there’s nothing left to empty. it all remains on you.

but even then, not once do you awaken during the session.

no. it’s not until the next day, eyes blinking slowly awake to an empty bed, in which you even register the weird soreness from your behind. the sour smell wafting below your nose which causes you to scrunch it up. and the most telling detail, feeling the remnants of something damp stuck on your shorts.

then after putting these facts all together do you sit up in your bed and close your eyes in irritation. he had been at it again.

fucking, wooyoung.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ SORCERY SCHEMES — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non sorcery au!, husband! suguru, gn! reader, nanako and mimiko are still your kids, silly lil shenanigans of cult leader! suguru being in your dreams

suguru has been the source of your anger for lots of things over the years. some fair, others not so much.

that one important date he accidentally missed because he got caught up at work. that time you vented and he tried to tell you to toughen up instead of picking your side. that time he accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater in the laundry. that time he fell asleep while you were talking late at night (he had insisted he was tired, in his defense—you were just too stubborn to let him sleep.)

marriage has its ups and downs, but suguru likes to think you’re a strong couple—but this? this is the most outrageously ridiculous reason to be mad at him—he’s simply at a loss.

“so let me get this straight,” he starts slowly, as if trying to comprehend something far too complex for his simple mind, “you’re mad at me because i had some superpowers in your dream—”

“it was sorcery,” you hiss, “were you even listening?”

“right. sorry. i was…a sorcerer,” he apologizes. he looks at you like you’re insane—your eye twitches just a little. “and then suddenly i went crazy in the head and killed a village and adopted nanako and mimiko and…left. to basically cleanse an entire demographic. is that right?”

“you had a cult too.”

“and the cult,” he nods slowly, “can’t forget the cult.”

“yeah,” you glower—if looks could kill, suguru thinks he might have never been born at all. this is a new one, he has to admit. “and it was really fucking rude. you left. and you took the kids before i could even meet them.”

“okay,” he says tiredly, rubbing his forehead, “baby, i don’t know if you realize this, but i don’t…i can’t perform sorcery. and i don’t have a cult i can lead either. i’m just a literature teacher—”

“i know what you are,” you snap, shoving away the hand he tries to reach at you with, “you’re a selfish psychopath who committed heinous crimes and left me single and alone as you led a group of people to follow your crazy ideas. don’t even think about touching me—”

“so do you want me to apologize?” he sighs, “because i’m sorry—”

“what if i left you? huh? and just started killing everyone who has blue eyes? what then? i’ll take the kids this time and leave you alone, see how you like it.”

“well, at least that gets rid of satoru,” he mutters quietly. and then he grins—chuckles a soft little laugh that makes the edges of your lips curl just a bit. “you’re crazy,” he snorts, shaking his head. and then— “but i love you. c’mere.”

you don’t fight the hand the reaches towards you this time, letting his arm curl around your waist and pull you into his side. that’s a good sign, he thinks, so he tests the waters and plants a kiss to your head. you melt just a little.

“i’m still mad at you,” you mumble.

“yeah, i figured,” he grins, “anything i can do to erase my sins as a mass murderer?”

“you can make breakfast,” you hum, leaning closer as you rub circles into his chest, “and wash the dishes.”

“easy enough,” he nods, pulling a scowl from you.

“you’re not off the hook yet,” you click your teeth.

“of course,” he nods in agreement, “i still have to atone for my radical actions. i’ll start by resurrecting all the people i killed. that should do it, right?”

“suguru, be serious,” you huff, “i was very sad, okay?”

“did you miss me?” he wriggles his brows—you look at him incredulously before slapping his chest. he chuckles a little too long for your liking.

“what a stupid question,” you pinch your nose, “so if i became delusional and ran off to erase a population, you wouldn’t be upset with me?”

“actually, i’d follow you because i love you,” he shrugs, pinching your nose lightly, “i’d be your cult’s second-in-command. obviously you just didn’t love me enough in your dream to do the same for me.”

“you didn’t invite me,” you pout through a glare, “what was i supposed to do? show up unwelcome?”

“well, nothing was stopping you. was i at least a strong sorcerer?” he asks in wonder.

you think for a moment before nodding. “yeah,” you say thoughtfully, “one of the strongest.”

“nice,” he grins—he seems a bit too pleased for something that happened in your dreams.

you decide to deal the harsh blow. “but not nearly as strong as satoru. you know he was the literally the strongest?”

“okay,” he scowls, “if you do kill blue-eyed people, start with him.”

you giggle, leaning up to kiss his jaw as he lets a soft grin pull over his features. he laughs with you—and suddenly, you’re both chuckling together uncontrollably.

it’s a bit of a silly circumstance, but he kisses your forehead and means it when he says, “sorry i left you to kill people and led a cult and committed a bunch of crimes while i wiped out a whole group of people. i didn’t mean it.”

“you took the kids too,” you remind him.

“i don’t know what i was thinking,” he shakes his head, “those two are a handful. how was i managing being a single father with all that on my plate?”

“that’s why you shouldn’t have left me,” you point out.

“you’re right,” he agrees, “i’ll invite you if i ever snap and lose my sanity.”

“good. you’re forgiven. now, i want chocolate chip pancakes—and make coffee while you’re at it.”

“yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes. he kisses you though, a soft little peck over your lips as you hum into the kiss and cup his cheek, “you got it. whatever you want.”

“i want you,” you murmur, “unhinged sorcerer and all.”

he laughs at the craziness of it all—but he loves it anyway, loves you despite it all.

“and i want you too,” he grins, hopelessly in love, “if you’ll do me the honors and join my crazy sorcery schemes.”

hi i’m tee and i had a dream that my rude ass sister stole my car and totaled it and now im very mad at her and i am not speaking to her until she apologizes. she refuses so im now double mad

[miyukisu]

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[darkbluekies]

God i want a dark!dr.kry fic soo bad. I read your most recent silas fic and I thought it was so good i ATE IT UP

Things you shouldn't see

Doctor!yandere x reader Summary: you've finally realized what type of man Dr Kry is, and what he is capable of doing. Warnings: murder, bruises, yandere, poison etc. Word count: 2.3k

Your crying hurts him, it really does, but he can’t be soft. Not now. You had tried to escape again. If he hadn’t come back in time to catch you in the door, God knows what could have happened to you. 

“Please, please don’t”, you sob as he cuffs your wrists to the bed’s railing with belt-looking leather. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Spare your voice, Y/N”, he tells you sharply. “Begging and pleading won’t work — you're not a child. You put yourself in this situation, didn’t you? How about we take some adult consequences?” He fixes the last buckle. “Too tight?”

You don't answer, you only cry. Dr Kry grabs your chin softly to direct your attention back to him. 

“Y/N, listen to me”, he says sternly. “Are the restraints too tight? Yes or no? Don’t lie.”

“No”, you sob. 

“Good. You know why I’m doing this, right? I don’t think it’s funny.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. I caught you in the damn door, Y/N.” He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “I can’t let this slip. You almost escaped from me once, remember? I’m not letting that happen again. I’m going to go get you dinner and you are going to get yourself together until I’m back, okay?”

You nod slightly. When he's exited the room, you break out into sobs again. Have to get them out of your system before he returns. You hate him. Hate him so much.

He's back ten minutes later with two cardboard boxes filled with food. He looks somewhat pleased that you're not crying anymore. He stands by his desk.

“You don't understand that I want what's best for you”, Dr Kry says while opening the plastic lids. “If you did, you wouldn't try to do stupid stuff like this.”

“Turn it off”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at the air purifier, already knowing what you’re talking about.

“No, I will not”, he says simply. 

“You're killing me!”

Dr Kry scoffs and dumps your foodbox on your legs.

“If I wanted you dead, Y/N, you'd already be in the mortuary”, he says and rolls over to you on his stool. “But as you can tell by your current status in your room, I don't.”

He picks up the fork and holds a bite of potato to your lips. You refuse to open your mouth. 

“Are we doing this?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to be mean?”

“Please don’t”, you whisper, scared. 

“You don’t want me to be mean?”

You shake your head quickly. 

“Good, me neither”, Dr Kry says. “Glad that we can agree on something. Open your mouth now.”

You open your mouth enough for him to put in the fork in your mouth. Dr Kry notices how you fight back the tears and sighs in defeat. 

“If you really want to cry, then do it”, he says quietly. 

It’s a trick. He actually doesn’t want you to cry, and you know that. But the tear that runs down your cheek can’t be brought back. You flinch when his hand brushes against your cheek to wipe it softly. He holds another fork of potato and meat to your mouth. You grimace slightly. 

“Just eat and you’ll get to sleep”, Dr Kry promises you.

“Turn it off”, you whisper. “Please.”

Dr Kry sighs and walks over to the air purifier, turning it off. The soft buzzing finally, finally stopped. Dr Kry can tell that you relax in your restraints. 

“Thank you”, you whisper without looking at him. 

“I’ll have to turn it on again”, he says. 

“Why?” 

“Because it keeps you where I want you. It’s much easier than keeping you cuffed to the bed like this.”

You tug at the restraints, as if you suddenly remember that you’re wearing them. Dr Kry’s hand shoots out over your right wrist. 

“Stop”, he says. “Don’t do that. I don’t like to see bruises on you. Just let it be. Give in, alright?”

You glance down at his large hand and grow cold. Could he break your wrist? Could he actually hurt you if he really wanted to? Without tools, without medicine and drugs?

��Open your mouth”, Dr Kry and removes his hand to give you the fork full of food. 

This time, you open your mouth without fuss. He smiles, pleased.

“Have I fucked up for myself now?” you mumble without looking at him.

“Just a tad bit”, Dr Kry smiles and wipes some sauce of your lips with his thumb. “But it's nothing that we can't restore.”

She had seen it, and although she tried to convince herself that she was overthinking, she couldn't bring herself to admit that everything was okay with Dr Kry’s patient — or Dr Kry for that matter. There has always been something with him that has rubbed her the wrong way. He's always been polite and helpful, but she thinks that it's a facade. There is something he's hiding, she can tell that there's a certain darkness in his eyes. And the fact that they never see, hear or get any reports about his patient — despite being here for so long — worries her.

One day, she decides to sneak inside. You’re lying in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. But other than that, the room is empty. The woman notices how your wrists are … cuffed to the side of the bed. She sneaks over to you and carefully shakes your shoulder. You open your eyes slowly, and then dart them open. In pure fear, you start to tug at the restraints. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the woman shrieks. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Who are you?!” you gasp. “Where’s Dr Kry?!”

“I don’t know, please be quiet, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You eventually start to calm down. 

“Why are you cuffed to the bed?” the woman asks carefully, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What has he done to you?”

“Please help me”, you beg. 

“I saw that you tried to leave the room before … and that he snatched you back.”

“I-I will.”

“Please help me, I’m begging you, he’s killing me!” you nod at the air purifier. “He’s poisoned it! You have to help me!”

She is just about to unbuckle the leather strands keeping you to the bed when the door opens. You meet eyes with Dr Kry and feel how your entire body goes numb. 

Shit.

His eyes glare at the woman as he slowly closes the door behind him, locking it shut. 

“Can I help you?” he asks coldly. “What are you doing with my patient?”

The woman spins around and stutters in fear. 

“Who allowed you to come in here?” Dr Kry asks, sounding suspicious — and extremely angry, although he tries to hide it. “Speak up!”

“I-I …”, the woman stutters. 

Dr Kry walks closer. You’ve never seen his body language this … territorial before. It’s almost animalistic. 

“What have they told you?” he asks the woman. 

“Nothing!” the woman shrieks. 

With one quick glance at you, he scoffs with a small, cold smile on his face. 

“I wouldn’t believe anything they say, ma’am”, he says amusedly, although you’re sure that he’s angry like a bee. “They’re sick, they’re not thinking clearly. Seems like we have to talk after this.”

“Don’t be angry at them”, the woman says, finally collecting herself. “You are the one abusing your position. You should be the one who’s getting yelled at!”

“Oh, I’m not mad at my patient. How could I? If they don’t know what’s good for themselves, how could I ever expect them to know when to speak …” He gave you a warning look, “... and when to shut up?” He looked back at the woman. “They’re sick, after all.”

“Why are you keeping them prisoner?”

Dr Kry puts his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “I’m not keeping anyone prisoner. Did they tell you that?”

“You’ve poisoned the air purifier.”

“Why would I ever do that?” he laughs. “That’s absurd! You don’t think I have other things to do? A real job?” He takes a step closer. He’s almost reaching her by now. “Listen, my patient has been reading a lot of fantasy stories while being emitted here, and they must have spun their head out of control. Being in a hospital for as long as they have, all alone, must mess with ones head a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

He has slammed it over the nurse’s head, striking her to the floor. You fight against the restraints, but they’re as stuck as stone. Dr Kry continues to hit the poor nurse with the metal pipe, causing blood to splatter over the walls — and you. You can’t breathe when the red liquid lands on your face, too horrified to even move. The screams from the woman turns into moans of pain, then sobs, then silence. Dr Kry huffs and gets up from the ground, letting go of the metal pipe that clinks against the floor. His white coat and blue overalls are drenched in blood, and his face is covered in red. You’re shivering in your bed and meet his eyes with wide open eyes. 

Dr Kry walks over to his desk. You can tell how he picks up a metal pipe used for the IV-stand you use every now and then.

“No!” you scream, but it’s too late. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want you to see that”, he pants lowly. 

Sobs start to exit your body. Dr Kry hurries over to you, sinking down on his knees by the bed, almost lying his upper body into yours. 

“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispers and cups your cheeks. 

“Don’t touch me!” you try to scream while doing your best to turn your head away, but his strong grip is forcing you to stay still, forces you to look at him. 

“I didn’t want you to see that”, he repeats. “Why did she have to come and but into our business, hm? Oh, please don’t blame yourself for her death. It’s not your fault.”

He notices how you’re trying to rip your head away from him. 

“I know that you’re afraid”, he says. “It was not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I could never blame you, you know that.” He wipes your tears. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to do it again.”

You’re unsure if you’ve ever sobbed this harshly before in your life. The cries ripple through your body, forcing your chest to lift with every sob. It hurts, like an unwelcomed workout. Dr Kry holds your face against his chest, hushing as he hugs your head close to him. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, and it makes you nauseous. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, Dr Kry says and unbuckles you. 

You hesitate getting out of bed, glancing careful down at the dead body bleeding out on the floor. Dr Kry hurries to pick you up in his arms and walk into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and places you down in the tub. Carefully, he removes your hospital gown and turns on the shower. You refuse to look his way. 

“Listen, Y/N”, he says and sinks down outside the tub. “There are things you shouldn’t see … and this was one of them. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I’m a realist, okay?”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me if I try to leave again?” you cry. 

“No! Don’t even say such nonsense. That’s absurd. How could you ever think that?”

You find it ironic that he grows offended. He starts to wash off the blood from your face with the gentle stream of the shower. 

He takes one of your wrists in hand and lets his thumb run over the deep mark from the leather. 

“I told you not to fight against it”, he whispers with a sigh. “We’ll have to put bandage on that.”

Dr Kry continues to wash the blood off of you and his own hands. You follow the red water down the drain. 

He puts the shower head back on the hanger and tells you to wait there until he comes back. You hug your knees close to your chest and watch how he disappears out of the bathroom. You can hear how he starts to clean up the body outside the closed door. This is what happens to the people who believe you. Those that trust Dr Kry’s words about you being too sick to function, and start to hallucinate, are no help … but those that are never get far enough. 

You shiver from cold air hitting your wet, naked body and bring your knees even closer to you. There’s a new form of silence in the room, a silence that eats you up from the inside … and yet, silence had never been this loud before. You would be able to hear a needle drop to the floor on the other side of the hospital.

It had taken wells to gather the courage to try to run away again, and it had been shattered in the moment of two seconds. Your hope had been sparked again when you saw the nurse, and knew that she was one of the few that actually believed you. 

You turn your face down into your knees and cry in realization that you’ll never get to leave the hospital as long as Dr Kry is around. In time, the poisoned air purifier will have killed you … but you’re unsure that you’ll get to leave the hospital even then.

I’m going to die.

[gothra]

I’ll never forget when I was arguing with a person in favor of total prison abolition and I asked them “what about violent offenders?” And they said “Well, in a world where prisons have been abolished, we’ll have leveled the playing field and everyone will have their basic needs met, and crime won’t be as much of an issue.” And then I was like “okay. But…no. Because rich people also rape and murder, so it isn’t just a poor person thing. So what will we do about that?” And I don’t think they answered me after that. I’m ashamed to say I continued to think that the problem was that I simply didn’t understand prison abolitionists enough and that their point was right in front of me, and it would click once I finally let myself understand it. It took me a long time to realize that if something is going to make sense, it needs to make sense. If you want to turn theory into Praxis (I’m using that word right don’t correct me I’ll vomit) everyone needs to be on board, which mean it all needs to click and it needs to click fast and fucking clear. You need to turn a complex idea into something both digestible and flexible enough to be expanded upon. Every time I ask a prison abolitionist what they actually intend to do about violent crime, I get directed to a summer reading list and a BreadTuber. It’s like a sleight-of-hand trick. Where’s the answer to my question. There it is. No wait, there it is. It’s under this cup. No it isn’t. “There’s theory that can explain this better than I can.” As if most theory isn’t just a collection of essays meant to be absorbed and discussed by academics, not the average skeptic. “Read this book.” And the book won’t even answer the question. The book tells you to go ask someone else. “Oh, watch this so-and-so, she totally explains it better than me.” Why can’t you explain it at all? Why did you even bring it up if you were going to point me to someone else to give me the basics that you should probably already know? Maybe I’m just one of those crazy people who thinks that some people need to be kept away from the public for everyone’s good. Maybe that just makes me insane. Maybe not believing that pervasive systemic misogyny could be solved with a UBI and a prayer circle makes me a bad guy. But it’s not like women’s safety is a priority anyway. It’s not like there is an objective claim to be made that re-releasing violent offenders or simply not locking them up is deadly.

[zairaalbereo]

“Please don’t do this.”

So after binging the whole four seasons of Black Sails last month, I’m now on a more leisurely rewatch… or so I thought.

But god everything hits so much worse or better or harder knowing about Flint’s past and motivation now. And then this scene came up, and I’m just… fuuuuuck. Crying, screaming, throwing up. I’m not okay. This is devastating. (Did I mention I cope with art?)

On my first watch, Flint killing Gates truly shocked me. He would really kill his friend just because he wouldn’t go along with his plans? To not have to give up on the Urca? Sure, Gates is going against his command. It’s mutiny, but Gates seems to be trying, and he sounds so bloody reasonable. And more importantly, he’s been a loyal friend up until now. A fatherly friend (I want to throw up). And even now he’s… trying to protect Flint, right? (Fuck. Seriously. Feeling ill.)

But yeah, I was shocked. And as he whispered broken apologies to the friend he just murdered, I wondered… could I forgive him for this?

And now…omg now it’s like watching a completely different train wreck happening, and it all makes perfect, tragic, horrible sense. The way the whole scene mirrors James McGraw’s futile attempt to convince Hennessy of their Hail Mary plan to save Nassau. Every step. The urgency when things have already gone sideways, but James refuses to give up, because it can still work. People just have to listen. Let him explain. Have a little faith. Back then he trusted Hennessy, and now he still trusts Gates. He trusts them to understand, asking them to believe in him. He doesn’t see it coming. (How does he not see it coming this time?)

And then the moment the floor is ripped out from under him. And it’s all there, on Flint’s face, in the moment when Gates says “They know.” It’s not the mutiny. It’s the betrayal. The way Flint’s face falls, and for a moment he looks just like James McGraw in Hennessy’s office. The same devastation and disbelief when he asks “You told them?” And of course for him it is the same betrayal. It is the same fight, to prove Thomas right. To stand against those who took him and everything else away from James.

And Gates, that poor bastard, doesn’t even understand what sin he is committing. He doesn’t even see it as mutiny. He sees it as doing the right thing, containing a madman. (Omggg…) And then there is Flint, reliving the worst moments of his life. And that point it doesn’t feel like it’s about the Urca anymore. It’s an emotional massacre, to which Gates seems completely oblivious. When Flint asks if he will see him get hanged, only to be promised an opportunity to flee for him and ‘Mrs Barlow’, Gates thinks he is doing him a kindness. Like Hennessy probably thought he was doing him a kindness, saving him from the gallows. It’s all right. Flint just has to leave, vanish and never be heard of again. He should be grateful. And the way Flint’s eyes close briefly in disbelief that this is happening. Again. The way he pleads with Gates, just like he pleaded with Hennessy. So unlike Flint. But once more he is told that his actions are unforgivable. Simply too much. He’s not just rejected, but he is abandoned. He is cast out for who he is and his supposed sins. A monster that can’t be allowed to exist amongst the rest of them.

The whole scene is executed so brilliantly, the way he fluctuates between James’ almost innocent appeals to be understood and Flint’s anger at being denied. But he keeps trying until the last moment. And then, when he acts, it’s not a calculated move. It’s pure desperation, the only purpose to do something, to stop what is happening. Because James McGraw didn’t. But where James McGraw hesitated, where he maybe still hoped, still didn’t comprehend, and where he still thought he had something to lose… Flint doesn’t. And yet we can see it break him. We can see how it breaks another part of his soul. 

(And of course it will happen again. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up.)

[sirhamburrger]

and some roommates (don't worry, we're cool!)

a/n: thinking silly thoughts today... having sae itoshi and ryusei shidou as roommates while getting involved with rin itoshi… (unrealistic since they'd both probably be really rich by the end of bllk, whenever that is, or adulthood) for the purpose of this drabble please pretend they are two broke boys 🙏

wc: 739 || tags: all characters are 18+, gn!reader, reader is in uni, situationship ryusae once again putting the bl in blue lock, background rin x reader, 700 words of domestic crack and more || header from bllk manga

(continued here in my christmas miniseries, more rin x reader centric)

it all begins when you're looking for an apartment in downtown tokyo. but since you can't afford one of your own at the moment, you're looking to see if anyone could use another roommate to split rent with.

and after days of scouring the internet, you find a promising place. clean, well-furnished, spacious - but there's already a couple living together in it...

oh well. the more the better. 

so you show up at their door after a couple of text messages exchanged with one of the very enthusiastic co-tenants, hoping to get a better look at the place. you ring the bell. no response. you try again. and again. maybe they're out -

“shidou, will you just get the damn door already?”

oh. okay.

the door finally swings open, and you're greeted by a tall, tan-skinned and vaguely familiar-looking man with a terrifying grin. you take a step back, a little shocked, but he just beams at you.

“you're the one who's been messaging me about the apartment, aren’tcha? come on in!”

he loops an arm around your shoulder, introducing himself as he walks you in. he's ryusei shidou, a member of the national football team who played in an exhibition match a few years back (which explains why you find him so familiar).

“so, uh…” you shudder slightly when shidou fixes his gaze on you. “where's your girlfriend? or, uh, boyfriend, i guess. partner. i should probably meet them.”

and it's at this moment that you abandon your inital thoughts of finding another place because sae freaking itoshi steps into the kitchen??

you think you might just faint. 

“o-oh my gosh, sae,” you stammer,  “it's an honour to meet you –”

he stares at you blankly, then at shidou with murderous intent in his eyes.

“who is this?”

“i'm not, like, a side chick or anything,” you quickly clarify, but shidou simply grins.

“we need someone to split rent with, and-”

“and i thought i would just check your place out, seeing as i'm in the same boat,” you finish. “but you two, as a couple, should probably discuss this. you know what? i can wait outside-"

“wait,” sae says slowly, pure, unadulterated disgust in his eyes. “he told you we're a couple?”

shidou's face falls. "we're not?"

and that's the story of how you move in with two men around your age who have some weird dynamic going on that you don't question.

japan's talented young midfielder is a great roommate (then again, you did go into this with no expectations whatsoever). he does the dishes when he's supposed to, takes the heavier bags off your hands during grocery runs with you, stays quiet after ten pm. he makes breakfast for you and shidou in the mornings, and teaches you about football.

ryusei shidou, though... oh, you get why sae's so sick of him now.

he takes the most massive dumps in the bathroom and doesn't flush. or put the seat back up after he's done. or turn the tap off properly. (he's flooded the sink before.) speaking of sinks, he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink. sometimes you want to tear his diabolical dye job off his scalp. sae informs you he has has tried just that and failed to do so.

but he does make you laugh a lot with his jokes and antics.

"one thing you should know about genius sae-chan is that he loves back hugs." "please don't speak for me."

and the two of you absolutely love making fun of sae's attempts to properly reconcile with his brother. you'll be peering over at his phone screen, ryusei on his right and you on his left, as he types out something about lunch plans tomorrow.

"you spelled 'restaurant' wrong for a second there."

ryusei dodges the pillow that comes flying at his face.

they've known each other for longer than you've known them, but they tell you things they wouldn't ever tell the other. like when ryusei quietly admitted to you one night, that despite all his careless flirting, he does really want to be with sae, in a more-than-friends kind of way. or like when sae told you in confidence that he secretly likes ryusei's back hugs.

and when against all odds, a certain green-haired boy in your lectures starts talking to you, you shudder to think that you now have something in common with ryusei - being deeply obsessed with an itoshi sibling.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[phantom-thieves-official]

can I say something controversial. I think by interpreting the Maruki reality stuff w Akechi as 'Joker's greatest wish was for Akechi to live bc they're in love!' is kind of a poor read of the text. Not because I don't ship them or whatever, my shipping opinions aren't relevant to this post. But because I think it overlooks a big part of Joker's actual character. He wanted Akechi to live because he saw an innocent person taken advantage of and discarded. He saw someone who needed help. You can even go further with this and say, okay, Akechi wasn't an innocent person - he killed people and tried to kill Joker himself. And what does that mean for Joker's character? It means he saw someone who had done terrible things - some of them to Joker, personally - and he still came away from Shido's palace with the understanding that while he did bad things, Akechi was a victim of Shido's, too. Good, or bad, or in between, that he still was someone in need of help. Joker wanted to help Akechi. He wanted to give Akechi a chance to make things right, and to show him that they didn't have to enemies - that Akechi didn't have to fight the Phantom Thieves, and he didn't have to be alone; that it's never too late to change course and be a better person and that Akechi's life didn't have to be one of hatred and isolation. He could atone for his crimes, still take down shido, and have a group of people to support him. After the terrible things Akechi did as Shido's lapdog, after he sold the thieves out and plotted to murder Joker. Joker still just wanted to help him. Joker saw that while Akechi was undoubtedly a criminal he was also a victim, and there was something in there worth trying to save. But you know what? He couldn't do it. Right as he seemed to be getting through to Akechi, he was killed by Shido's cognitive version.

And so when Maruki's reality brings Akechi back, it means imo that Joker feels guilty. Out of all the people he'd been able to help, Akechi was the one person he just couldn't save. It's not because they're in love, it's because Joker regrets how things worked out. He regrets that he didn't get through to Akechi sooner. He regrets failing a vulnerable and victimized person whom he feels he could have helped. Even if that person hated Joker. Even if that person had previously tried to kill Joker with his own hands. Joker's sense of justice is imo his biggest character trait, followed closely by his massive savior complex. Of course he wanted Akechi to live. Because in Joker's eyes, despite what he'd done to hurt Joker, Akechi was still a victim. He was still someone Joker should have been able to save.

This all comes to a head when Joker chooses to deny Maruki's reality. He's choosing to live with the guilt; to accept he can't save everyone no matter how hard he tries. He's moving beyond the savior complex and recognizing that sometimes, some people are really just unreachable, or don't want to be helped. It's a moment not only of characterization, but of character growth for him.

anyway that's my hot take. by viewing the third semester through a shipping lens exclusively you lose a huge point of characterization for Joker bc you overlook the nuances of Joker's desire to help everyone all the time and the guilt he feels about failing to help Akechi. You misconstrue Joker's desire to help in the first place as coming from a place of love rather than a place of selflessness and justice; a place of 'doing what's right simply because it is the right thing to do.' You miss out on the subtle ways it shows Joker's not biased by hatred or contempt, how despite the heinous things Akechi has done, and despite the harm done to him directly at Akechi's hand, Joker is still capable of seeing that Akechi is a victim, too - which in itself shows that Joker's idea of justice isn't motivated by personal relationships, grudges, or biases.

[tonalwhiplash]

PROJECT EDEN'S GARDEN SPOILERS!

Chapter 1 spoilers

Theory concerning wolfgang's whole deal

Okay so like. His mom's mega dead, right?

"Whoa! Back up! Where the fuck did you get that from?"

Alright sit down, lemme show you something.

Remember the prolouge?

I sure didn't! So I rewatched it!

Take a look.

Wolfgang freaked out over Wenona claiming that Cara was the aggressor, implying her murder was justifiable.

At the time, Damon along with all of us just assumed he was being a lawyer about it and had put himself on the side of the injured party. But I don't think it was that simple.

I think he was having an episode. The only evidence for this in the prologue itself is the in-game acknowledgment that Wolfgang's arguments had shifted to being based on emotion alone. It's literally used for a tutorial!

And he says himself in his FTEs that he doesn't normally conduct himself that way in an actual courtroom. So his freak out wasn't his standard, but he doesn't give a straight answer for why he acted how he did.

But chapter 1 as a whole gave us what was necessary to start connecting some dots.

Have a look.

The blackmail Damon got. The photo of Wolfgang's parents.

Look at his mom.

Now look at Cara.

By no means are they identical, wolfgang's mother has a mole on her face, which Cara lacks, but I want you to note the hair and eye color specifically. Keep it in mind.

Now let's look at the back of the card.

"Like father, like son"

"Beneath a sheep's skin hides a wolfish mind"

The game sorta hands you a part of this. Wolfgang's father did something bad. Something that, allegedly, Wolfgang either has repeated or simply had the capacity to do himself eventually.

So what did Wolfgang's father do?

That much isn't told to us, but from Wolfgang's hallucination induced meltdown, I have an idea.

I think wolfgang's father killed his mother.

Let's get into it.

Starting with his hallucinatory episode.

When Wolfgang initially sees Diana, I think he sees his mother. The way he talks. The way he apologizes to her and calls himself a failure for not being like her. We learn in his FTEs that his mother is the only other lawyer in the family and his sole reason for becoming one himself.

However, when Diana walks over and takes his hand, he switches and becomes angry and violent. Going as far as to attack her with a knife.

I think, when Diana grabbed his hand, either something she said or something she did caused the hallucination to switch from a vision of his mother to the vision of his father.

Suddenly he's no longer sad when he says he's not like the person he thinks he's speaking to. Suddenly he's smiling at the fact he's "not like them." Because he's talking to his father now.

He wants to be like his mother and never wants to be like his father.

The line "bring her back" implies that his father, the person he was hallucinating in Diana's place, took his mother away from him.

And the reason I think that's it, relates back to his smaller scale meltdown during the test trial.

Wolfgang started talking about how it was inexcusable to kill a woman.

Though that could be chalked up to chivalry or what have you, I think there's a much more personal reason as to why he felt so strongly about it.

Because his father's actions were inexcusable.

They weren't self defense.

And witnessing a dead woman who bares resemblance to his late mother be accused of deserving it may have struck a nerve.

The killer for the mock trial had no identity given, making it all the easier for Wolfgang to project his father, or a man like him, onto that blank stand in.

I can paint a scene

Wolfgang in the courtroom as a child, maybe even a witness to the murder, watching as the defense lawyer for his father makes every excuse in the book for him. Claiming that his mother was the aggressor, that she had a weapon, that his father had no choice but to "defend himself" from her attacks.

While, in reality, Wolfgang had seen a very different situation play out. Whether he spoke up and was dismissed for being "too young" or was unable to properly testify due to the traumatic experience that is simply being in a courtroom at all, he was unable to bring his father to justice.

He was unable to do right by his mother.

I think that'd be a pretty good motivator to practically race into law school as a teenager. To become the ultimate lawyer at 22 years old. So he could make up for his previous failures.

I think Wolfgang has been carrying a heavy burden from a very young age. And to return to the "like father like son" comment, I'm willing to call that a misdirection. I think when Wolfgang is implied to have "a wolfish mind beneath sheep's skin" or " being a wolf in sheep's clothing," the actual truth is that he's a deeply emotionally scarred person who has no choice but to force a facade of stability and confidence to push though it all for the sake of those around him and his goals. Basically, he's masking.

So, technically, just like his father, Wolfgang is a mentally troubled man pretending to be okay. And the kidnappers used that misdirection to imply he had sinister intention for pretending just like his father had pretended to be a man his mother could trust. When in reality, their motivations could not be any more different.

Or maybe I'm just being silly. Teehee! 🧡

And a small side note. The word "wolfish" implies intentions other than violence.

Lust, hunger, and greed mostly. Though, I'm willing to sidestep those options cuz Tozu is absolutely the kind of bitch to reword a common phrase to make it sound more flowery only to unintentionally imply some nasty shit.

Wolfgang gives no tells towards being a creep. Not a single Freudian slip left that man's mouth. Not even in FTEs. Grace would have been the killer for chapter 1 if he was like that. They literally shared a bed. And, despite their cute dynamic, if the two had actually done anything canonically, we'd get more obvious tells in the game. Those walls were shown to be pretty damn thin...

There's a bit more under the hood of this theory, but this post is big enough, and all other supporting information requires enough explanation and red string to justify their own posts.

So stay tuned for:

• Further theorizing about wolfgang

• And the possible parallels between wolfgang's hallucinatory episode and Eva's execution

[unacknowledgeable]

I’m imagining the families switch to yandere mode will come soon after reader is outed as a serial killer, it’s already bad enough with them missing out on their kid/ sibling’s life, because they just didn’t notice, but people are dead now!

It would be an easier pill to swallow if they were like Jason and killed criminals , but no, they kill innocent people.

dozens of people gone and the culprit not being stopped because they just…didn’t see the signs?!

imagine she sheer chaos that would come about if people found out their identity as a Wayne? There is absolutely no way that people would believe that Bruce just allowed this to happen, he’d go from brucie Wayne the philanthropic himbo to another morally bankrupt billionaire who let his kid kill people for funsies.

even if the public believed the truth everyone would -rightfully- blame him for literally having a Chinese parade's worth of red flags in the damn face, in his own home and not seeing it

Not me giggling smiling and kicking my feet over this, the worms are eating gooooood today ya'll.

So, like I said in my last post, before even writing most of this stuff I made sure that I had a whole timetable of important events and how old the characters are during them and what not, so I DO know how the MC gets caught. Though that could be subject to change if I find something more interesting

 That being said, I never really planned for the general public to find out about readers' crimes. Once the bat fam finally catches on and tries to huddle them away, as far as the rest of Gotham is concerned, this major serial killer is still at large.

I also really really wanted to make it clear that y/n? Is not a good person.

 Be it by circumstance or their own making, they simply just aren't. Yes, the hand they were dealt by fate was cruel and painful, but they chose which direction they went in based on their life experiences. Reader is fully aware of that, and is rather peeved with the batfams pity party on how it’s “all their fault you’re like this”

 Because??? No? It's not??? Sure, they definitely didn’t fucking help, and most times made it worse with their actions, but you already had a slew of mental issues that were left unchecked, genetic ones inherited from your mother and father, and those formed by early childhood trauma and neglect. But you chose this, they didn't hand you the knife and or force your hands around your victims necks. It was all you. You wouldn't let them take the one form of control you had left.

Obviously you were not inherently evil because of forces out of your control, but you did choose it, and you will not let them delude themselves into thinking otherwise. Hurt people, hurt people, as the saying goes.

 But does that make what the batfam are doing okay? Keeping the reader locked within the Manor, the family taking on the roles of Judge, Jury and Executioner and thus denying the General Public and the victims families the right to Justice, as well as denying the reader the right to a fair trial.

  Going against their own morals by asserting their own feelings of guilt over the law, and in doing so, they are actively obstructing justice. Complete and utter hypocrites. But they always have been, haven't they?  Things get even more confusing and strange when even after the reader is caught by the batfam, is jailed in what's essentially a glorified prison. The murders. Don't. Stop.