#DO NOT LET OTHER PEOPLE'S IDIOCY GET YOU KILLED!

[kirkwallsquad]

favorite da2 battle lines in no particular order

i'm listening to a compilation by danaduchy on youtube rn so

literally every fenris line bcs everyone else is YELLING and he's just speaking in his regular quiet-ish voice. king what are you saying i can't HEAR YOU

except for when hawke goes down. THEN he's loudly upset.

"hawke's down! time to panic!" (isabela)

"the tame elf is down" (varric - what the fuck omg don't call fenris that)

"your pet elf has fallen" (carver - WHAT THE FUCK OMG DON'T CALL FENRIS THAT)

"that moody mage is down" (aveline)

"ugh, can someone pick up fenris please?" (merrill)

"isabela's on the ground... appropriately" (aveline - HELLO?!?!?!?)

"merrill! oh, blood mages are so dramatic" (isabela)

"aveline has fallen?" (fenris - why is this a question babe)

"they got whatshisname, the mage" (varric - i continue to believe he doesn't know anders' name until act 3)

"the dwarf has dropped a few more feet" (sebastian)

"dear varric, please learn to parry. love, your innards" (varric)

"do you have something for this, because it hurts" (carver)

"even my teeth hurt" (anders)

"i've got so many bruises now they've got names and families" (merrill)

"ugh, i have dirt in my mouth" (sebastian)

"you're going to let me walk around injured?" (carver)

"being close to death is very bad for my morale" (isabela)

sebastian describes his wounds as "oozing" or "seeping" more than once

"i know dalish are meant to be close to the earth, but we don't mean literally" (merrill)

"i'm alright, who needs kidneys anyway" (isabela)

"hawke. varric. i think this is bad." (merrill)

"stop being you and fix me up" (carver - BABY. BABY BROTHER.)

"that really gets the blood flowing" but also "i will fight and pray for forgiveness later" but also "this is much more exciting than the chantry!" (sebastian - what is wrong with you <3)

"my face is not a shield!" (hawke)

"and they say drinking doesn't solve anything" (isabela)

"haawke i can't mooove" (sebastian)

"i'm too far away, what do you want me to do? shout at them?" (isabela)

"i'd have to fly to reach! of course, i've always wanted to learn to fly" (merrill - she's literally the funniest person ever)

"alas, no" (fenris)

"my faith is my armor! my cause is my shield!" (sebastian)

"if we kill them, we get their stuff!" (isabela)

"andraste's knees, it's like herding cats!" (isabela)

"AFRAID YET?!" (anders)

"RUN! WHILE YOU CAN!" (anders - he's so loud i love him)

"another one for me! how many have you gotten, hawke?" (varric)

"ah. a shame that you're going to die, no?" (fenris)

"you. me. and an audience. that's what this is all about!" (carver)

"may the creators have mercy on you! i certainly won't." (merrill)

"destructive forces of nature, coming up!" (anders)

"suck on a fireball!" (anders)

"NEVER TAUNT A MAGE!!!" (anders)

"a thrust, now a parry" (fenris)

"i'm gonna taunt you in elvish now! durgen'len! aravel! vallaslin!" (merrill)

"hello, i'm merrill, and i'll be your distraction." (merrill)

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHY MAGES ARE FEARED!!!" (anders)

"maker please forgive your children" followed immediately by "DID YOU SEE THAT SHOT" (sebastian)

"WANT TO SEE WHAT'S UNDER THESE ROBES?!?!?!" (anders)

"I'M RIGHT HERE! HIT ME!" (isabela)

"maker, the idiocy" (bethany)

"MAKER BLESS YOUR CHILDREN IN THEIR HOUR OF NEEEED" (sebastian)

"my weapon does nothing??" (fenris - he sounds so puzzled help)

"this is SO not working" (anders)

"if the pointy sticks don't work, try the other pointy sticks" (isabela)

"ah, dear. why doesn't anyone ever want to be nice to us?" (merrill)

"is there an end to the people who hate you?" (aveline)

"looks like we've got a few more puppies to kick" (isabela - HELLO?!?)

"take a step, kill, repeat repeat repeat" (carver)

"the hate you inspire is unfortunate" (fenris)

"another twenty steps, another batch of deaths" (anders)

"nobody seems to like you. do you get used to that?" (merrill - ouch. brutal hskfjhgksdjfhg)

"i can't take credit for all of this. hawke helped a little bit" (isabela)

[6gumi]

can’t afford to fail.

synopsis ﹒your arrogant n self centred professor helps you get your grade up !

pairings ﹒dr. ratio x f!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. professor x college student 、mild age gap (dr ratio’s abt 28 while reader is 19-20) 、degradation 、desk s3x 、he’s a lil mean here :( 、use of nicknames 、pussy slapping (there ws like . . two!) 、t!tplay 、dirty talk 、reader implied 2 be smaller 、slight spanking 、unprotected s3x

note ﹒been too long since i wrote anything n i thought abt this . . i’ve BEEN thinkin’ abt it for awhile n i jus get so . . i get so giggly thinkin’ abt it LMAO i hope this is fine ! let’s hope i proofread in time ! reblogs r highly appreciated, feel free 2 send me an ask ! — millie ♡

“utterly ridiculous.” dr ratio replied mockingly, an eyebrow raised as his taller form towered over yours, his gaze on you was firm and serious, like he was trying to scare you away. “do you see what i’m seeing?” he raised up one of your marked worksheets you handed in the other day, in pure honesty . . it wasn’t even your fault! you wanted to curse at him for not even bothering to give you and your fellow students more time to study, it was his fault in the first place for making you all stress! that’s what you wanted to say, but he would’ve had your head for that.

“ . . . yes prof.” you muttered with a small nod.

“tell me what you see then.”

you glanced up at him, your eyes slowly trailing from him to the paper he held . . failed?! again?? gosh . . you knew this would happen either way, you wanted to scream, clench your fists and beg for another retake but knowing the type of professor dr ratio was, you knew you weren’t getting any of that, no . . not anytime soon.

“ . . i didn’t do that good.”

“—didn’t do that good is an understatement, you did terrible. your idiocy is all i see written on this fail-worthy of a sheet, your work habits in class are worse than those other idiots i teach.” the professor sighed and steepled his fingers, leaning forward. “why are you falling off in my classes? are you afraid of asking me for help, is that it?” his eyes narrowed with a condensing glare, the tension in the room grew heavier.

yeah well . . if i ask you for help, you’d insult me and get annoyed anyways, was what you wanted to say. i mean, you weren’t wrong . . you were certain dr ratio had some sort of short temper or something, no matter what he says or what you do, he is the last person you’d ask for help. “someone with major idiocy like you should be grateful i’m taking time out of my day to speak to you about your dismissive performance, you know how much people would kill to have my attention right now?" dr ratio’s voice took on a harsher tone as he watched you react to his words. “even your classmates are so much more adept, why are you even in my class?"

your body jolted at his words, no matter how tough you tried to act you were secretly trying your absolute best to hold back the tears that threatened to leave your eyes, it was hard to take in his words . . it’s hard enough to not be his top student!

dr ratio’s eyes widened slightly seeing how your body jolted at his words, he took a quick breath and thought about how he would address the situation with you with a more gentler approach. "please, humor me." he took a deep breath, trying to be patient and understanding with you. he was already noticing a slight difference in your behaviour. "i’ve spent nearly a decade teaching in this institute," he continued in a slow yet low tone, “i promise you, i know what I'm talking about. how about i help you right here right now and let’s see where to go from there, got it? tell me what you don’t understand and what you do understand.”

“ . . alright.”

— ♡ —

. . it seems you both had a different idea of “helping”. you hated yourself for enjoying it, he was your professor for heaven’s sake! now you were on your knees, your mouth wrapped around his wet cock as soft grunts left his lips. you couldn’t lie . . he looked absolutely stunning from this angle, the way he threw his head back when you swirled your tongue around the slit of his dick. dr ratio groaned, his voice deep and husky as he leaned closer to see how well you were sucking him off. " . . . u-ugh . . fuck, this mouth of yours needs to be punished . . considering how many times you talked back to me in under an hour.”

before you could pull away from his cock on your own, dr ratio’s free hand slipped downwards, grasping firmly at your head, tugging it upwards. you were roughly pulled away with a gasp, you were almost out of breath as your professor pulled you closer against his chest. “a slut like you needs to learn how to be fucked properly. maybe that’s how i can help you, fuck the information in you.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck before trailing upward, his tongue tracing along your jawline and then claiming your lips forcefully. his hands moved downwards, his cock throbbing even harder in his pants. he stepped closer, reaching out to fondle one of your breasts, squeezing it softly before running his thumb over your hardened nipple . . massaging them firmly as your tongues tangled together, your moans muffled by his mouth. dr ratio’s eyes widened in awe as he pulled away from your lips, a line of saliva connected your lips and his as he admired the sight of your breasts, now fully exposed for him to feast his eyes upon. he bit his bottom lip, unable to tear his gaze away from them as they were truly a sight to behold, heavy and perky, nipples erect and begging for attention. “tell me, [name],” he licked his lips, reaching down to flick his tongue against one of your nipples.

"why can't you be as skillful as the others? do you not have the intellectual capacity?" he smirked against your nipples, watching you intently as he waited for your response. “you’re nothing but an idiot, are you not? can’t even pass any of my damn classes.” he stepped closer to you, placing one hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you towards his desk. "undress yourself slowly," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

“ . . prof, we can’t do this . . i’m your student, you’re my professor, you’re seriously overdoing this—“

“do you want to fail my class completely or not, princess?” dr ratio muttered, raising a brow. “do you even understand the situation in front of you? you’re a failing student and should be begging me for help.“ he grabbed you by your thighs, roughly slamming you on top of his desk. “you know what you should be doing? you should be on your fucking knees, groveling for me to give you a second of my attention. instead, you're refusing to let me help get your grade up. besides . .” he leaned in closer against your ear, bringing his voice down to a whisper . . “i know that a dirty slut like you is enjoying this as much as i am.” he raised his hand, slapping your cunt that was clothed by your pink panties as hard as he could. “show me this pussy or it’s an automatic zero.”

your eyes flashed with shock and a hint of pleasure, dr ratio’s voice seething with contempt as it sent shivers down your spine . . it was obvious he wasn't going to let this go easily. you gave in . . wrapping your arms around his neck, “ . . prof . .” your face flushed red, nuzzling against his neck. “can’t . . ‘s embarrassing—“

“veritas.”

“ . . pardon?”

“call me veritas, moan it while i fuck you.”

your professor’s heart skipped a beat at his own boldness, his hand slipped down towards your lower region, grasping firmly at the hem of your skirt and tugging it upwards, revealing your lacy pink underwear underneath. with one swift motion, he ripped them apart, exposing your wet glistening pussy to his hungry eyes. "sit on the edge of the desk," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "spread your legs wide and let me see that pretty cunt.”

you bit your lip, gazing up at him with those sweet eyes of yours as you were hesitant to even do anything under those hungry eyes of his own, “ . . do i have to? that’s . . that’s too embarrassing.”

“do you want to completely fail my class or not?”

wincing at his words, you slowly obeyed his demands . . spreading your legs with a sense of embarrassment and shame as he humiliated you completely, it was like . . he wasn’t even aware he was humiliating you! spreading your legs in front of your own damn professor? you didn’t even know what was going on in your mind at this rate! but yet . . your pussy pulsed around nothing, you craved for this and you hated that the most. the dark haired male reached down, unfastening his own pants and boxers in one swift motion, revealing his massive cock, veined and thick, dripping with precum . . it stood tall and proud, ready to claim whatever it desired, you weren’t even sure if it could fit.

"turn around," he ordered, keeping his tone low and seductive. "show me your ass." you obeyed, slowly hopping off the desk as you bent over . . your ass in his full view. your body flinched, eyes wide as he gave your cheeks one mean yet harsh slap. “try and guess how many times you nearly failed my class.” his hardened member brushed against your entrance teasingly, he couldn't resist anymore. with one swift motion, he positioned himself between your spread legs, aligning his cockhead with your tight hole from behind. “go.”

he pushed slowly, his head sliding past your tight ring of muscles, eliciting a soft moan from you as your eyes rolled back . . your pussy spasming around his thick cock almost instantly . . it was like it belonged there. “p—prof . .”

“ah ah.” he shoved his fingers inside your mouth, pressing the pad of his fingertips against your tongue. “what’s my name, slut? tell me. what did i say.” dr ratio pushed forward, stretching your hole even wider than before . . filling you up inch by agonizing inch. you couldn’t lie, each thrust of his felt like heaven, as if you and him were finally becoming one.

“v—veritas . .”

“good fuckin’ girl.” once fully buried to the hilt, he paused, taking a moment to savour this forbidden moment. his hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you steady as he began to move rhythmically in and out of your wet cunt, hitting your g-spot with a sense of urgency and desperation each powerful thrust. “guess how many times you almost failed my class, come on . . speak up, or are you giving up already?”

“ngh . . three?”

“wrong.” SLAP!

he ran his hand down the fat of your ass, slapping it loudly as you could feel the sound reverberating through the entire room . . your tongue lolling out your lips as another slap came down, even harder than the first. “keep guessing.”

“ah!— u-uhm . . five?” you moaned at the mere feeling of him picking up the pace, his hips rocking in sync with his thrusts. his cock throbbed harder inside your tight channel, stretching and massaging your insides in a way that drove you both wild with pleasure, it’s like . . he was trying to fuck you dumb, fuck you till you couldn’t think. “wrong again.” his voice ran through your ears, moans and gasps filled the room yet muffled by each loud thrust. sweat trickled down your professor’s back as he increased his rhythm, pounding into your hole faster and harder, building towards climax until the tip of his cock slammed against your deepest areas.

his hands roamed freely over your body, cupping your breasts roughly, pinching and tweaking at your nipples until they stood erect and hardened once more. dr ratio bit down on the flesh of your neck, leaving a mark that would serve as a reminder of this moment later on. "see how good i’m fucking this pussy?” he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. “come on, keep going . . stay focused.” he was lost in the feeling of your cunt, pounding into you like it was his last as his thrusts become even stronger as he reached his peak again. dr ratio groaned loudly, his cock throbbing violently inside you as a huge glob of cum shot out, yet his thrusts never yielding.

“mmh . . ah! veritas . . please!” his hands roamed over your body, trailing along your arms and shoulders, stopping at your pretty breasts once more. "fuck, this is the best pussy i’ve ever fucked.” he panted, pulling on one nipple, then the other in turn. "so fucking perfect." your moans and gasps became louder, filling the room with a symphony of pleasure. your bodies moved together in sync, hips rocking in harmony with his thrusts.

SLAP! “come on, baby.”

“s—six . . seven?! fuck . . ah!” piles and piles of paper fell off his desk when you were pushed forward, back arched with your eyes rolled back. “veritas . . i think this is enough . . someone’s gonna hear—“

veritas chuckled mockingly, his eyes glowing with malice as he grabbed hold of your chin firmly, tilting her head back in submission. his lips crashed forcefully against your own, tongue thrusting into your mouth roughly, claiming ownership over your body. "oh, i think you and i both know this is far from enough," he growled between kisses, his hands roaming freely over your lithe figure. "you know damn fucking well . . you don’t want me to fail you, right? so, accept it. your body’s damn made for this, princess . . see how well your body is responding to my cock? c’mon. look at me directly and tell me straight up you don’t enjoy this.”

drawing out soft whimpers from your throat, your professor continued his dirty work on your sensitive spots until you squirmed helplessly beneath him, unable to resist any longer . . your voice stuck between your throat as you couldn’t even find the right words to retort, accepting the way he took you against the desk, his rough thrusts forcing you to push your body against the cold surface as a puddle of cum formed on the floor from your professor’s previous orgasm, so fucking messy . .

“my point taken.” he savoured the feeling of being deep inside your warm, wet hole . . he knew he was gonna have dreams of this pretty cunt of yours, each time he pulled back, a low growl escaped his throat as your bodies slapped together, creating sounds of lustful pleasure. veritas’ hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady while his cock continued its relentless exploration of your gummy walls. in sync with each thrust his hips rocked against yours as well, grinding his pelvis and your ass together, the sensation was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced before . . raw, primal, and addictive. you couldn't think but respond to him with your body, your moans becoming more pronounced and needy.

“listen to me,” dr ratio gave your ass another mild smack. “you’re gonna take this dick while you tell me exactly what you’re having trouble with in class, understand? ‘gonna fuck everything through your head just like i said . . afterall . .”

“you can’t afford to fail, can you?”

[axiina]

I saw your post about writing for Coriolanus Snow Andi was thinking classic enemies to lovers nsfw I’ll give you free liberty with everything else 💕

'I hate you' is new 'I love you'

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x capitol!reader (gender neutral afab)

Summary: When your professor tells you to come to an agreement with your enemy, and you take 'come' too literally.

Words: 3.2k

Themes: smut, nsfw

Warnings: using of 'you' to reader, set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, more like academic rivals to lovers but they want to fight at some point so I guess it counts, NSFW | public sex (or more semi-public), unprotected sex (wrap it before tap it), p in v sex, kinda toxic but it's enemies to lovers, more like enemies who fuck, Coryo is pretty rough and possessive, marking, making out, idiots in love but they prefer fighting with each other

Author's note: I found some free time between studying, so I decided that I can no longer delay. English is not my first language so i hope that i didn't do too much mistakes. It is possible that a single "she" or "her" will appear here because I changed the concept during writing and I do not know if I got rid of everything. Let me know whether to stay with the use of 'you' or maybe replace it with personal pronouns or 'y/n'. I hope it's not written very awkwardly and you will like it!!

Coriolanus Snow is a peculiar person. Most people love him. Nice, classy, handsome and rich from a wealthy family. What more could one want? However, one of Coriolanus' traits that everyone seems to turn a blind eye to is his two-facedness. Some say this is merely a symptom of his cunning and wits. He knows when and how to behave to make his counterpart happy. You are not one of those people. Saying that you and Coriolanus Snow don't like each other is a huge understatement. You guys hate each other. From the very beginning when you both met at the academy it was known that you would cause a lot of problems. Too much of a character difference, or perhaps too much of a similarity between the two. However, this is not what is crucial. Whatever it is, it makes you two most likely to kill each other if you could. Every move you make you do to screw each other up. To prove who is better.

Professor Satyria's pleas for you to finally come to an agreement are of little use. The conflict must go on, and neither of you has any intention of giving up.

You like the way things are working out. At first, Snow was annoying and you didn't understand how people couldn't see him for what he really was. Fake. Now he is still annoying, but getting under his skin has become a sort of routine. Quite a pleasant one.

"You have to get along with each other and set a good example as rightful citizens of the Capitol, otherwise the Academy will draw out the consequences."

Professor Satyria's words continue to ring in your ears as you get ready to go home after finishing classes and doing punishment work. On the one hand, you don't want something as silly as arguing to weigh on your future, but on the other hand, reaching out to agree is like admitting you were wrong. Failure.

"Wherever I am you must also appear. Are you obsessed with me?" Behind your back, you heard a familiar, annoyingly kind voice, in which you could sense some arrogance. You groaned turning around to see no one else but Coriolanus.

"Don't you have anything better to do? People are finally getting tired of your idiocy?" Your words, however, did not budge the blond. His expression remained unchanged. One that might make most people think he is a nice person. You, however, have known him long enough to see right through it. Perfect. Too perfect.

"We need to talk. A positive outcome for both sides. It will interest you." Well, the threat of Satyria. He is the first one to extend his hand for agreement. Where is the trick? You look at him suspiciously without saying a word, and so Snow takes it as a sign that you are thinking about the proposition. "Do you have free time? Maybe we could go out somewhere together?"

The suggestion makes you burst into laughter. "With you? No thanks, I'll pass on this pleasure."

Coriolanus is not surprised by your answer. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. Accepting rejection, however, is not his strong point. He is annoyed by your behaviour, but he bites his tongue to avoid responding in the same spiteful way. Instead, he doesn't give up.

"I know we were never on good terms, but I want this war between us to end. I hope we can put behind us all the bad things that happened between us and start fresh. What do you think about this?" he says, sounding quite sincere.

"Let me think." You say and sigh, pondering the answer, which is obvious, but you can't let go of a little malice. "No."

The expression on Snow's face became more serious. It seems that your refusal offended his pride. But he doesn't show it in his tone of voice.

"Why not?" he asks and you notice how he clenches his jaw and his gaze becomes unpleasant.

You enjoy the view and it fills you with satisfaction. "Because you think that with a pretty face and fake politeness, you can get anything. Maybe it works with others, but I'm not that stupid. Additionally, you are damn annoying. That's why."

The expression on Snow's face becomes dark. Typical when he fails to get what he wants. His usual tone is completely gone. His face is twisted with anger. He still tries to maintain a polite voice. The attempt fails.

"Do you want to repeat it?" he asks through his teeth. It's obvious that you've hit one of his sensitive points. That was the plan.

"Exhausting, isn't it? Hiding behind the mask of a nice and put-together boy from a highly placed family who is a veritable ideal is tiring, isn't it?" A mockery can be heard in your voice. Coriolanus is very sensitive to it.

"What do you think you know about me?" He asks through clenched teeth, his tone no longer artificially polite, it is filled with rage. Your mockery has really gotten to him. He tries to calm down, but it's all in vain. Coriolanus has never had problems with self-control, but something about you makes him ready to abandon everything. You manage to get him off balance with ease. In his head, he has one plan. To destroy you.

"Do you think you pretend so well?" You burst out laughing and shake your head. You know you shouldn't say such things. The academy is practically empty, and Coriolanus's angry enough can be unpredictable. However, you can't help but point out everything that annoys you about him. "It's actually quite easy to see what kind of person you are. You look at people with disgust, but when they look in your direction, you suddenly change dramatically. how fake you are to everyone. I wonder how they don't see it. How empty and shallow you are."

"You don't know anything about me!" Snow shouts at you, his face twisted with rage. He is barely able to control himself. He doesn't even try to hide it anymore. He stares at you with hatred in his eyes.

"Don't you dare assume that you know everything about me. You don't know me one bit. You don't know what my life is like. Don't think so highly of yourself. You aren't better than me." He continues, his voice getting louder with every word he says. You really hit his sensitive spot.

"I don't know everything and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. For me, the most important thing is acts, and in your case, they are fake and two-faced. You despise people, and you yourself are at the bottom." Irritation takes over. You know that at any moment you can say one word too many if you haven't already. However, someone has to talk it all out for him. Adrenaline makes you take a step closer to the upset boy without considering the possible consequences.

Snow seems to be on the verge of a breakdown. His fists are clenched and his eyes are wide open with rage. He is breathing hard, trying to control himself. He's not used to being treated this way by anyone. He has come this far over the years, solely because of himself and what role he has taken in society. You really succeeded in hurting his pride. "I warn you right now. Don't mock me any further."

"Why? What will you do? hit me? do it, I dare you. Then everyone will see how "perfect" you really are." You know the situation is starting to get dangerous. However, you come closer. It's stupid, you know it, and yet you do it. Maybe it's the way his reactions give you satisfaction, or maybe it's the way he looks at you.

You can see the hatred oozing from his eyes when they are locked on yours. His face is full of rage, his breathing heavy and his muscles tense.

He takes a step toward you with a clenched fist. You can see his knuckles turning white. He grabs you and presses you against the wall, his body against yours.

A second later, you feel him pressing you against the wall tighter than before, and his hand grips your throat.

You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. Your heart is pounding as if it wants to jump out of your chest. You feel a strange sensation in your lower abdomen. His eyes are cold, yet they make a pleasant shiver run through your body. His face is right next to yours, flesh pressing against yours. It was a matter of split seconds as you two pressed your lips to each other in an aggressive and hungry kiss.

He returns the kiss, wrapping his free hand around you. He seems to enjoy the kiss as much as you do.

You can feel his body trembling as he still tries to keep control of his overwhelming emotions, or maybe it's because of the situation you're in.

The two of you kiss aggressively. Snow's body shakes as he fights between his desire and how much you get on his nerves. You feel how rough but passionate his kiss is.

He draws you closer and your bodies press against each other. The friction of your bodies makes you uncontrollable over the muffled whimpers you make. You feel the bulge forming in his pants rubbing against your body.

The situation seems hazy, and only fragments register in your mind. How you both enter the bathroom without stopping your hungry and clumsy kisses, and your hands work to get rid of clothes that only makes it difficult. How Coriolanus presses your body against the wall slamming his hips against yours.

All this is to express yourself and give vent to all the negative emotions you have been holding for years.

Snow's body is now almost completely controlled by his emotions. His movements seem full of hatred and at the same time passion. He just wants to express himself using his flesh to claim you as his own.

You feel as if you are on fire, your body moves and reacts according to your desires. The tension that has built up between you for years is finally released, and it all comes out as raw passion.

His fast and aggressive movements make the place where your bodies meet burn in a pleasant way, and you think to yourself that it will be a miracle if you walk normally tomorrow. His dick stretches you nicely and his movements make your inside sting slightly. It's not a problem for now. Not now when your legs are wrapped around his waist and the only sounds you can make right now are moaning and repeating his name like a mantra.

Your body trembles at how rough his movements are, but you don't care now. The most important thing for you now is to show him how much you hate him. A broken moan leaves your lips when he reaches deeper.

Coriolanus feels your legs tighten around him. He moves slower now but is more passionate and rough. He holds your hips tightly, not caring if it is uncomfortable for you. His lips move to your neck, where he bites as if he is trying to unload all the emotions you are causing you this way.

His hips buck firmly against you. Each thrust makes your body more tired and aching but at the same time, it makes the whole experience even more pleasurable. If someone told you that you would end up having sex with your biggest rival in the academy bathroom, you would laugh in that person's face. There you are, panting, with your arms around his neck when Coriolanus Snow is abusing your cunt sensitive from too much friction.

Coriolanus brings his lips closer to your ear. His warm and irregular breathing makes a shiver go through your body. "Do you like it when I claim you as mine?" He purrs, his voice still filled with desire.

"I hate you, I hate you so much," You exhale in a trembling voice that takes a lot of trouble to keep from cracking. You bite and suck at the smooth skin of his neck, leaving there dark marks. "I hate you, Coriolanus Snow."

"I hate you too," Snow says with a low growl as he continues to hold you. He bites your shoulder, leaving marks on your skin. His moans are muffled by your skin, which he touches constantly, as if afraid that at any moment you might escape and leave behind only a faint memory.

You hate him, but you enjoy him. You are pleased when he takes you as his own. You are excited when he uses your body. You feel his passion and desire through his body. You feel his raw passion and it's hard to hate him now.

"oh go to hell" You hiss and bite your lower lip to stop your moans, feeling him moving faster.

He doesn't care if he hurts you or not. All he cares about is that you belong to him right now. His hips slam against yours in an aggressive peace. The bathroom is filled with sinful noises because you don't even think about the fact that someone might come in and hear them.

"you may have already fallen in love, but with me, it's not so easy" A trembling laugh leaves your lips. You feel your head getting foggier and foggier. It's hard for you to put together a meaningful sentence, "but you're doing a good job" a loud moan leaves your mouth. you close your eyes and throw your head back "mmm my sweet toy."

He hears your moans of pleasure, and his eyes close with a smile. He has won and he knows it. Snow always lands on top. He presses you against the wall with his body even tighter. His movements become more sloppy and deeper as if he wants to bury himself inside you. His body trembles as his lips leave broken moans and whimpers.

Passion is so strong that you can almost forget about hatred. You can almost fall in love with Coriolanus Snow. Almost. But you know that what you feel now is only lust, and you know that it's all temporary.

Not him. Not the arrogant boy whose whole life is based on lies. Not that boy who doesn't care about anyone. Not that boy with a beautiful face and mesmerizing blue eyes. Not him.

You press closer to his body, almost clinging to him as a wave of pleasure sweeps over your body.

Coriolanus lets out a raspy throaty moan feeling your walls pulsate around him. His voice is low and shaky. He doesn't seem to notice anything except the way you cling to his body. He moves faster and harder, making sure he satisfies you completely.

Snow is fully immersed in feelings. He can't think clearly or rationally. He only knows that he has to claim you, that he has to satisfy his needs. He wants to feel you and make the most of the situation. All his thoughts and desires are focused on you. His hip movements speed up as he reaches the climax. He hides his face in your neck to muffle his moans. His body stiffs as he comes inside you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, while his wrapped around your waist. you cling to each other, still not making contact with the real world as your breathing slowly calms down.

What happened in that bathroom is over, they both return to reality. Snow steps back slightly and helps you stand on your own two feet. He looks at you with heavy eyes. All the emotions he had been hiding inside him had finally been released.

He has won and he knows it. He has succeeded. But what now? Was it really worth it? This is not a question for now. Coriolanus does not look far into that future with his thoughts.

You look at each other in silence. Slowly you begin to realize what you have done and now you look at each other awkwardly and somewhat panicked.

Coriolanus is the first to break the silence. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is faster. The passion he felt a minute ago still lingers in his heart, something he tries to hide from you. He looks at you with a somewhat absent and uncertain gaze

"Do you think we should forget what just happened?" He tries to make his voice sound normal as if nothing had happened.

"Definitely." The words leave your lips before you have time to think. You stare at each other in silence for a few more moments and begin to quickly put on your clothes.

Snow is surprised at how quickly you agree with him. He needs to make sure this is the end of what just happened between the two of you, so he adds.

"If anyone asks, it never happened." He now looks at you with a somewhat panicked expression on his face.

"You don't have to tell me," you scoff, buttoning your shirt, "if you tell even one soul, I'll kill you, I swear."

Coriolanus looks at you with small amusement while fixing his jacket. "I hope you won't become obsessed with me after this."

"Maybe in your dreams," you say with a slight smile fixing the collar of his shirt. " you better be careful that you are the one who will be lost in memories of me." Before you leave the bathroom you stop in front of the mirror and fix your uniform and hair. Coriolanus smiles for a moment but then quickly clears his throat and tries to look cold.

You both come out of the bathroom, look at each other and part your lips, as if to say something to each other, but you look at each other in silence "Now everything is back to normal. We can still hate each other," you say, but this does not improve your mood at all.

"It never happened," Snow says trying to look you in the eyes, wondering if you're thinking about it too. He wonders if what he feels is real, or if it's just a moment of passion.

"Never" You agree by nodding your head. Your gaze goes down to his mouth. As you look into his eyes again without a moment's thought you move closer to him and press your lips to his in-hungry kiss. He kisses you back wrapping his arms around you to bring your body closer.

You parts away after some time and you both catch your breath for a moment after this passionate kiss. Coriolanus is completely consumed with passion and there is nothing in his mind but you.

You move away and nod to each other as if you have just made a deal and each is walking in your own direction in a much better mood.

Maybe that's not exactly what Professor Satyria meant when she said you two should come to an agreement, but it certainly worked.

[wordsmithic]

Anglophone Greek Myth retellings demand money from you, and then they have this much nonsense in just one page......

1. Patroclus' name is shortened to "Patro" and the writer believes it to be the coolest name. Meanwhile it's like shortening "George" to "Geor" 😂

2. He's also called "Sex" and "The Son of Sex" which sound weird even in English. Idk if it's supposed to come from the Latin "sextus" but in any case the logic and the sound are horrible.

3. Why is Patroclus adjacent with anything Spartan, and even called Spartan?? And his House is Spartan. Perhaps he was born in this life as a Spartan (whatever that means) but og Patroclus was characteristically not Spartan. Do Anglophone writers die when they write about other Greek cities except Sparta, Athens and Thebes?? Genuine question because I don't know at this point. Would it kill the author to have here the name of the region Patroclus is from?

Actually I even doubt that the author did a basic Google search for the origins of the character who inspired her. Not to mention she uses "Spartan" like it's a faction or a family, as if Sparta and Spartan people are not real today.

4. Nemean jaguar?? (as in, from Nemea, Greece). Is "Nemea" another gang so all their animals are described by Nemean? I doubt it, cause the phrasing "Animal Protector: Nemean Jaguar" makes it look like "Nemean" is the animal's origin. Has future Greece been populated by a distinctly American animal? This is probably a play on "Nemean Lion" and it sounds quite stupid.

Excuse my harshness. I don't speak like this to writers I consult. BUT this is a published work??? And hear this: The problem is not the fantasy/futuristic setting or any other creative thing the writer has thought. But there are elements of a real culture there, and they're written like shit. If one page is like this, I can't imagine how nonsensical the whole work is. And she wants us to pay for this book??

How do you spend months or years writing and then publishing something for money without getting it fact-checked?? How can you just write nonsense and sell it as if Greeks don't exist out there and as if your audience is stupid?

Writers who don't want to write elements of another culture accurately are like the comedians who complain they can't do comedy anymore because of "cancel culture".

Anyway if you don't want to end up writing a fuckfest of idiocy, please let me (or someone else) be your Greek Cultural Sensitivity reader because we Greeks are ddyyyyiiing out here with all the bullshit we see every day 🫠

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

[thesilvertheorist]

• fluff drabble - first relationship •

kicking my feet rn, he's so sweet

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

okay so [other than delores] five has never had a relationship [fivela get lost - you don't exist to me], he's never held another person, felt romantic love, he's never felt wanted purely because he's him. five is constantly believing that if he's not of use, no one will want him - which leads him to being SO confused when you show interest in him. i feel like you show interest over him simply existing, standing there, occupying space and he...well he doesn't compute that at first. he thought that maybe you were pulling a joke on him considering his actual age or trying to kill him in some way [five, sweetie, your trauma is showing], so he never really let himself believe your feelings to be real. he knows he's too fucked up for anyone to ever want him, he's well aware that he'd ruin any romantic relationship he ever tried with his outrageous amount of emotional baggage.

although, i feel like after you're nice to him and calm around him for a consistent amount of time, he'd start to smile back at you and accept your offer to get coffee together, he'd wonder which of his suits he should wear and be at the meet-up location fifteen minutes early to make sure he didn't miss you. he'd have spoken to klaus about what he should do to impress you and klaus would give him some, mostly useless, but simple advice on date 'procedure', he'd shyly hold the door open for you, compliment your outfit, pay for your coffee. you'd both speak about weird families and how much you hate the traditional nuclear household idea. he'd laugh about the hypocrisy of most men and wonder how the hell you're sat here with him and not whisked away in some loveless marriage by now. he thanks his stars that no one has snapped you up sooner.

after a few more dates, he'd loosen up a little and start cracking jokes. he'd bring you books on your wishlist and snark at anyone who said anything bad against you. he'd definetly know your coffee order by heart and bring it to you whenever he could, never giving you a chance to pay for his. he'd stare at you longingly whilst you ranted about stupid things and cussed people out for their idiocy. you'd crack one [awful but brilliantly timed] joke and he wouldn't be able to stop the choked laughter that escaped his throat, fighting back tears as he caught his breath. obviously his laughter is contagious and you joined in. he's not laughed in so long...and you'd just had him in stitches - and you'd done it so effortlessly.

he'd want you in his life for however long he had left breathing. so, when he went back to klaus and asked him [rather sheepishly] the best way to ask you to be his...klaus nearly died then and there, celebrating in the fact that his brother had found someone to look after him, to love him. five would internalise everything that klaus said, ignoring the sleazy stuff, and made getting you to be with him as his ultimate goal. and when five puts his mind to something, boy does he deliver. he'd invite you to dinner at a small spot he knew, fancy but not snobbish, he'd speak with the staff beforehand and arrange for there to be candles and petals at your table. relishing in the fact that there were nice places he could take you.

dinner would go well [as it always did] and he'd walk yu home, giving you his jacket like they do in the movies, suggesting in a lovingly sarcastic tone that you should have brought your own. the two of you would take a shortcut through a park to get to your house, and whilst there was a moment of quiet between the two of you, five would stop walking and take your hand gently, he'd look at your intertwined hands and then up to you, asking if you'd have him.

[hands intertwined, chilly breeze, you in five's jacket] "hey, hang on a sec," he'd start as he took your hand in his own, "i wanted to ask you something..." "what's on your mind, five?" you'd respond, not knowing what he was going to ask you - could have been if you knew what the best toaster was to buy or if you knew how to give someone a punctured lung - you never knew with him. "you don't have to say yes, before i start...just let me know if i've put hope in the wrong place so i can carry on with my life-" "five, i-" "i really need to ask if you'll have me and i cant do that if you keep interrupting me" he'd blurt out after an exasperated sigh. "you don't have to ask," you'd begin, stepping closer to him, feeling him tense up at match your gaze with an agonising, longing look - scared to death you might break his heart that he's only just found. the one he owes to you, "i'll have you for as long as you want me to". you'd close the gap between you and press your lips to his, feeling him get taken by surprise and then relax into the moment as he realises what you're doing. he'd kiss you back...his heartache, passion, and inexperience channelling through the kiss. you'd break for air, and rest your forehead against his, wondering what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, sharing an emotionally intimate moment together, breathing each other's air, feeling excess body heat. "so," five would whisper to you, "this means you'll be my permanent coffee date then?" he'd smile out. "for as long as you'll have me".

five's inexperience in romance would be obvious, you'd have to teach him a lot - but he's a QUICK learner. you'd teach him how to kiss, how to cuddle up for warmth, the best way to sleep in the same bed without hogging blankets or space. he'd be an eagerly active participant throughout every lesson and return the sentiment tenfold the next time around. he would be shy but once he knew how you like to be loved, he'd be all over it - and you. [he's actually a hopeless romantic - emphasis on the hopeless]

[callmrmorrow]

let’s talk about… POOOOOWERPLEX

(spoilers for invincible s3ep6 below, discussion of guilt/grief and death, all invincible-standard topics)

this motherfucker is a point of contention for the whole invincible fandom. do we love him, do we hate him? is he righteous or is he a hypocrite? at what point does the victim become the perpetrator, and is said point when he charbroils his loving wife and child while trying to kill his mortal enemy? is it even all his fault, or is his wife an instigating jane clone from breaking bad who egged him on? and most importantly… how the fuck did the GDA not clock that their new lab worker had loved ones lost in the chicago disaster? give him a psych eval or two, cecil!

also, if he’s so powerplex, how come i can understand him?

okay, all jokes aside, i think powerplex, or scott duvall, if you’re a friend, is a fascinating character. at the beginning of the episode, his formal debut for the show, he’s hanging out with his sister and her niece, gretchen and jessica respectively (another breaking bad nod). we see that his powers are based on transforming impact into electricity, but only in really small bursts. this brings up a fun idea in the invincible world, of natural-born supers who aren’t strong enough to make it big. does the GDA have a file on these guys, or do they spawn in at unpredictable rates within the human gene pool?

it’s super clear that jesse — sorry, scott — loves his family, and it becomes even more clear when they fucking die right in front of him. his entire revenge arc is based on pure misinterpretation and a salt shake of idiocy, because he assumed that invincible holding the severed arm of his (adopted?) sister meant he had torn it from her shoulder socket. easy to misconstrue in the haze of destruction, but really, you can’t tell me that working at the GDA for 1-2 years wouldn’t make you privy to how the fight really went down. short of invincible’s secret identity, of course. fallacy in the writing, and it really would’ve been better if his wife, becky, worked at the GDA instead and got the supplies for him.

also, his wife was 100% egging him on. couldn’t tell you why, maybe she has a power (com)plex herself. she seemed to have her fair share of hate for invincible and the hero system in general. one of the themes of the episode is indeed power, and how it translates into whether or not you deserve to live. the viltrumites are founded on this ideology, mark’s ability to survive is based on his power, but… what if you’re just a normal guy like scott duvall?

“why do you get to live when so many others died? what makes YOU so special?”

this puts me in the mind of deadpool and wolverine’s honda odyssey scene — not the sex allegory — but the part where wolverine is chewing out deadpool and about halfway through his spittle-flush monologue, you can tell he’s talking more about himself than the man he’s castigating. part of scott’s issue is MAJOR survival’s guilt: he only survived because he went to get a coffee. the people he loved, who took care of him all his life, the kid who adored him and whom he really seemed to treat like his own daughter, died and he lived.

half of the issue isn’t even invincible. it’s powerplex himself. this guy probably wishes he died with them. chances are his rage was redirected towards invincible when its initial source was genuine grief and potentially self-hatred. he threw the entire rest of his life into killing invincible, to the point where he arguably faced a mental sunk cost fallacy. i’m sure he did learn that invincible was a victim, but at that point, he’d already poured so much into this that he couldn’t just give up there and then. also if omni-man, the real perpetrator, was gone, then this was the next best thing. his power emulates his own mentality — a very popular thing in this show. his power translates physical impacts — pain — into power, and his story is about how violently and wholly that pain explodes out. even after he burns his wife and child to a crisp, which is arguably the point where he should’ve been like “fuck, stop fighting, it’s so over and this time it’s my fault,” he drives that shock (pun here) outward towards mark again.

aside: why is mark getting packed the fuck up by powerplex? you could ascribe it to his own guilt and perhaps a desire to pay a physical reparation for what he did to scott’s family, and all the other’s families. or you could chalk it up to plot relevancy, where it literally has to happen in order for becky and little baby boy whose name i forgot to die.

and when mark is speaking to scott in prison, he totally fumbles the “let me comfort you, bro” ball. but it is not [title card]’s fault! powerplex’s complex stops him from taking blame for his own actions regarding his wife and son, so he’s only going to be more furious with mark. he pins blame on an external source, and i’m sure this was a learned habit, probably from his wife (i do hate blaming the woman but she did really show some markers of an instigator here. wish that wasn’t the case but it is). i like that the invincible show/comics address the sheer destruction that follows these powerful, high-octane fights, because the s1 finale really was just omni-man showing mark how insignificant we humans are.

“he can’t keep getting away with this!!”

tldr: no, you’re gonna go back and read that.

[oddyseye]

Let's talk about Polites in EPIC: The Musical...and Eurylochus.

I do not get the hype for Polites. Yes, he’s supposed to be this sweet, trusting, “open arms” guy who exists to show Odysseus the value of kindness, but he’s an actual walking disaster. He’s a hypocrite through and through. This man fought in the Trojan War — there’s no way his hands are clean — so his sudden push for peace and “let’s all trust each other” feels completely illogical. You don’t get to be a warrior and then act shocked when the world bites back. Here’s what gets me: Polites doesn’t even suffer the consequences of his own idiocy. He dies immediately, leaving the rest of the crew (especially Odysseus) to clean up the mess. His naive, sunshine-and-rainbows approach literally causes everything to fall apart. It’s because of his influence that Odysseus shows mercy to the Cyclops. Look, Polyphemus wasn’t just some big guy with sheep; he was a monster who ate people alive. Odysseus could have stuck to what he does best — being clever, ruthless, and surviving — but instead, Polites’ “let’s be kind and reasonable” act softened him. What did that get them? Poseidon’s rage, storms that killed dozens of men, and an endless chain of suffering. I don’t even feel bad for him because he’s the one who got them into that situation. He got bludgeoned to death, and Odysseus was left holding the guilt and the trauma. Polites did more harm to Odysseus than any monster, god, or storm combined. His naive “open arms” nonsense shattered everything Odysseus built.

His “open arms” philosophy doesn’t even fit the world they live in. This isn’t some cozy, peaceful land — it’s a brutal, war-torn reality where gods toy with humans for sport and monsters eat you for dinner. Odysseus knows this. He’s been through ten years of war, and his leadership is built on cleverness, caution, and yes, ruthlessness when necessary. Polites telling Odysseus to just trust people is like handing a lamb to a lion and acting shocked when it gets eaten. It’s ridiculous. And for all the praise he gets for his ideals, what do they actually accomplish? Nothing. They just put everyone in danger. I care about the impact he had on Odysseus, of course, but not him as a person — because his ideals were dangerous, and his death came way too soon for it to feel meaningful. He was a plot device, not a hero. Meanwhile, Eurylochus gets called selfish, but at least he wasn’t stupid enough to greet the Cyclops or a pretty witch with open arms (and legs).

And keep in mind that, in the original epic, Polites is barely even a footnote — a guy who gets name-dropped once or twice and that’s it. He wasn’t Odysseus’ best friend, he wasn’t some great philosopher of peace, and he definitely didn’t have this huge impact on Odysseus’ leadership. He was just another member of the crew. Yet, for some reason, Jorge decided to pluck him out of obscurity, slap on some manufactured “kind soul” personality, and act like he’s this beacon of morality who changes everything. And for what? Polites’ entire presence in Epic feels like a forced excuse to make Odysseus feel bad about everything. Polites wasn’t important in The Odyssey, so why does Epic act like losing him broke Odysseus? If the story wanted to explore Odysseus’ guilt, fine — but why pin it all on some guy who didn’t even matter in the original myth? At least Eurylochus had a real role in the Odyssey. He was Odysseus’ second-in-command, brother-in-law, and actually did stuff. Speaking of Eurylochus, my man deserves some credit for being an actual human character. Eurylochus makes bad decisions, but at least his choices feel human. Polites, on the other hand, is just...there. A one-note plot device designed to give Odysseus trauma.

I call Polites a hypocrite, while everyone slaps that title onto Eurylochus. But honestly, if anything, Eurylochus is the only crew member who shows consistent growth throughout the story. Eurylochus doesn’t just blindly follow Odysseus or cling to pretty ideals like Polites. Instead, he’s pragmatic, deeply flawed, and painfully human — exactly the kind of person you’d expect to survive years of war and suffering. And honestly? He’s the only one who sees through Odysseus’ contradictions and calls him out when it matters most. Let’s start with the wind bag incident. People love to blame Eurylochus for this, but let’s look at what really happened. Odysseus did tell the crew what was in the bag — he made it clear: “This bag has the storm inside, we cannot let the treasure rumor fly!”

But by that point, the crew was exhausted, starving, and suspicious of their leader. It didn’t help that the Winions planted the idea that the bag contained treasure. That’s what drove the crew to act — greed and distrust, born out of their suffering. And despite the fact Eurylochus didn’t act alone, he often gets singled out as the scapegoat. But reminder that Odysseus refused to let anyone carry the bag, didn’t share its burden, and still kept himself separate from the crew. The men were barely hanging on, and their captain’s secrecy — however well-intentioned — made it easy for paranoia to fester. Was opening the bag a mistake? Absolutely. But it wasn’t just Eurylochus’ fault. It was the natural result of a crew pushed to their breaking point, fueled by mistrust. And when everything blew up — literally — who carried the blame? Eurylochus. Because that’s the role he always ends up in: the fall guy for everyone else’s failures. Then there’s Circe’s island — another moment where Eurylochus’ actions get unfairly criticized. When the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus does something incredibly human: he panics. He doesn’t want to rush back into danger, and his instinct is to survive. And thus, he suggests abandoning the men and sailing away with Odysseus, which is a harsh and selfish choice. But when he suggests leaving the men, it’s because the situation with Circe is impossible, and the men are trapped. He doesn’t want to abandon them out of cruelty. And let’s not forget that Odysseus’ response is pivotal here. He tells Eurylochus this:

“There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save. I can only hope you’d do the same.” This line changes everything. It plants a seed in Eurylochus that will shape his future actions and, more importantly, his expectations of Odysseus. From that moment on, Eurylochus believes in the idea of loyalty — of never leaving a man behind. He takes Odysseus’ words to heart and learns from him. That’s why what happens later, at Scylla, feels like such a betrayal. When Odysseus sacrifices six men to Scylla to save the rest of the crew, Eurylochus is furious, and rightfully so. From Eurylochus’ perspective, this is hypocrisy of the highest order. Odysseus, who taught him to value every life, now coldly sacrifices six of their men without even warning them. He plans their deaths. “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!” This line hits hard, because it exposes the truth about Odysseus’ leadership. Odysseus demands loyalty, respect, and obedience, but he doesn’t want to share the weight of his failures. Eurylochus’ anger isn’t hypocrisy — it’s justified. He held Odysseus to the same standard Odysseus set for him on Circe’s island, and when Odysseus fell short, Eurylochus refused to stay silent. This moment is a turning point: Eurylochus transforms from the scared, self-serving man on Circe’s island to someone who believes in loyalty and accountability. He learned from Odysseus, only to realize that Odysseus doesn’t always live up to his own ideals (hmmmm who does that sound like, oh I wonder).

And to make matters worse — because of course Polites' chaos wasn't enough — we have the cattle situation, which is basically Eurylochus and Odysseus reaching their absolute breaking points. Let’s get one thing clear: what happens with the cattle of Helios? That’s not Eurylochus being weak or selfish — it’s Eurylochus being human. By the time they get to the island, the crew is starving, hopeless, and barely hanging on. Odysseus’ guilt, Poseidon’s fury, everything else, it broke everyone, including Eurylochus. So when he sees those cattle, he cracks. It’s not just about hunger. It’s about everything that’s led them there: the death, the constant danger, the years of being dragged across the seas because of Odysseus’ mistakes and gods playing games. This is where the lyrics hit like a gut punch. Look at the difference in lyrics: “I need to get home!” “How much longer must I go about my life like this, when people die like this?” And that right there? That’s the heart of it.

Odysseus is fixated on his goal, on getting home, because that’s what keeps him going. But Eurylochus? He’s stuck in the present. He’s surrounded by death and misery every single day. Polites’ naive optimism is long gone, and what’s left is the harsh reality of survival. Eurylochus isn’t wrong for saying “enough is enough.” They’ve been starved, cursed, and hunted; the gods have abandoned them. Why wouldn’t he break? And Odysseus loses it. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus!” And yeah, it’s easy to say that when you’re the one in charge (since Odysseus did not kill the cattle, he holds none of the blame). But Eurylochus was broken by everything that’s happened. The way Odysseus says “I need to get home” feels so disconnected from everything Eurylochus has been going through. Odysseus still sees home as the end goal, while Eurylochus has already seen how much it costs to get there. And when Eurylochus calls him “Captain” instead of “Ody” at the end, it shows that everything between them has changed. There’s no more camaraderie. There’s no more brotherhood. He knows what he’s done, but he also knows that Odysseus will never be the same after this. That shift in how he addresses Odysseus shows how much their relationship has deteriorated — and how much Eurylochus has lost. And let us not forget, Odysseus was doomed from the start.

Polites set the curse in motion. Poseidon was already out for blood. The gods were never going to let them off easy, no matter what Eurylochus did. So let’s stop blaming him for one moment of desperation when he was already broken. People always point out Eurylochus’ flaws, but they forget one key thing: he’s the only one who really gets it. He’s the one who challenges Odysseus when he sees his leader making reckless choices. He’s the one who has the courage to question Odysseus, even when everyone else is too afraid to speak up. If you ask me, Polites represents the idealistic lie — this idea that kindness and trust will save you in a world ruled by cruelty and chaos. Eurylochus, on the other hand, represents the harsh truth of what it means to survive. He’s messy, flawed, and emotional, but he’s real. And unlike Polites, who dies early and leaves everyone else to clean up his mess, Eurylochus stays until the bitter end. He bears the burden of Odysseus’ choices, and when he breaks, he does so in a way that makes you feel for him, not judge him.

Eurylochus never gets the credit he deserves because everyone’s too busy crying over Polites. Polites, who gets to die early and leave Odysseus saddled with guilt. Polites, who delivers one cheesy song about “kindness” and then gets bludgeoned in a cave. I’m supposed to feel bad for him? Sure, his death is sad, but the impact he left on Odysseus and the crew? Utter chaos. He’s the reason Odysseus showed mercy to Polyphemus, which kicked off Poseidon’s revenge. Without that storm, they could’ve sailed back home after the cyclops incident. No Circe, no gravity killing Elpenor, no Scylla, no Zeus obliterating the last of them with his thunderbolt. Polites may as well have killed the 599 men himself. Eurylochus deserved his place in the story. He earned it, and he deserves more credit than anyone is willing to give him. Polites was just a naive dreamer who died too early, leaving everyone to deal with the mess he made.

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina. Happy New Year ! ( hope I won't offend anyone with my message and my poor english).

I was here during BG and I was firmily convinced of Larry and that Louls was not the father. Like many people, I'm back now, after the news about Llam - and I still have very strong falth in Larry (especially after studying the recepts of recent years). What I want to say as a BG witness in real time: It was complete nonsense, full of contradictions and idiocy, fakes and lies. And I (like many people here) had only one thing beating In my head: Louis would never let his child go through this. But now, after years ... the biggest shit Is that Louis would never allow himself to use the kid the way F is being used, to make him a target on social media, to make a movie, to bring him to family, whom he protects, and I really think they are kind of simillar.

That's the fucking shit. It's just killing my mind.

I know, I believe that Louis is a wonderful person who could make mistakes, but he is a very, very good person. And all of this shit together just doesn't work in my head.

Neither of the two theories - Louls Is the father, Louls is not the father - just doesn't work for me. Although there are only two options: he's dad or he isn't dad (LOL) But both options are pointless for me.

So now I'm taking a step back from BG, I think (an you said) that Louls' fatherhood and Larry is olny Indirectly related to each other. I believe that Louis and Harry are finding ways for each other, that they are still strong. And everything else... well. I don't know the truth and just hope we will find out one day.

And YES, I think Louls - is one af the best people in the world with heart of gold. I'm not going to lie, it seems to me that some things need to change, and I hope it happens to both Louis and Harry (and already changing right now).

I think, darling, the very sad part of all of this is we just have to admit that Louis has made some sort of peace with using this child for whatever purpose he needs him for.

Whether it’s to avoid getting into legal trouble, to stop people investigating, to raise his profile… I truly have no idea. But it’s very clear something changed a few years ago.

I don’t think Louis is a bad person. But he and his family are using this child just as much as the Clarks are (more, if you consider that he has a much bigger audience).

As a parent, myself, I don’t understand any of it. Why do they have to drag the actual child into it? Post a photo now and then. Talk about him if you want. But don’t put the child into your documentary and don’t parade him around on your social media. We’ve never seen Bear. We’ve never seen Khai. It’s not necessary.

I’m so revolted by the whole thing.

[dividenzia]

it's important to be able to define what someone is to you. like: you are my daughter. you are my sister. you are my student. you are my colleague. you are my rival. you are my lover. you mean nothing to me. (hell, for argument's sake: even 'you are my situationship' is a kind of definitive non-definition). the reason we tend to need clear-cut distinctions in our real-life relationships is that having them overlap can get very confusing, upsetting, and dangerous, not least because it means that both people won't ever be on the same page about the relationship at any given point of time.

choi and seok, for me, lived in the dangerous overlap. the emphasis changed, but almost each and every one of those relationships were always in play, and they were almost always in conflict with each other (maybe except in the OR. which is maybe why they fetishised it so much early on). i think this was especially problematic for choi, because he saw himself as being in the position of power. and he was. not only was he much older, and seok's literal teacher, but also he was aware that seok had no family, no friends, no support network, not really. he saw himself in her (... so to speak). and he had been keen to cultivate that greatness in her.

which is why it all went to shit when he stopped being a 'good teacher'.

spoilers below the cut—

i think, by the finale, we're supposed to think that a big reason for his decisions about his health was him making up for kicking her out of training: making up for being, that is, not her teacher anymore, when really that was the only thing she ever explicitly asked from him. but i think the problem is more qualitative. choi stopped being a good teacher—in his eyes—almost immediately after he became, or in the fallout of becoming, her teacher. i think he became obsessed with her, with her devotion, with her insanity, her vicious loneliness, with how she was like him but a much more feral version—he was just better at hiding his insanity, i think, possibly even at hiding it from himself. he really IS the psycho. and i think he finally felt it manifest outside of collecting medical knowledge after he met seok and thought: perfect. she's perfect.

in fact i don't think he knew the extent of how bad things had gotten—his feelings for her, whatever they are, dark as they were—until he decided to kill kim myeongjin for daring to want her. again, it's not one thing or another. i think he was genuinely appalled at the thought of seok being used like a machine in LA, enraged at the thought that someone could just pick up his best student with no consequences. but i think at bottom he must have simply and ferociously thought (and seok later calls him out on this idiocy): seok is going to leave me. and i cannot let her do that.

but instead of interrogating any of those feelings (where they were coming from, what they meant, why they terrified him) his mindless possessiveness spoke up for him. lol, i am still reeling from the idea that the thought of losing her drove him to kill for the very first time, and all the terrible stuff that came from that decision was because of that one single thought.

and then seok saw right through his desires—but only his desire to kill myeongjin. not his desire to have her stay. they're the same desire. but they're really, really not. and i think choi was devastated by the whole debacle. the fact that he risked his career, his ethics, his life just to keep an insane girl who would've never, ever have left him. who saw he could have been a murderer (for her, though she did not know it at the time, could never find out, ever, because if she did, then—) and simply smiled beautifully at him about it. and then he took it out on her. obviously. because that's the easiest thing to do. maybe he was even angered by the idea that seok had saved the bastard—maybe it was almost worse she did that than if she had chosen to leave for LA.

but he also takes it out on her because he's failed at being her teacher. not just because she saw the rot in him, but because she made him see what made the rot fester: it was her. because she was never 'just' his student. she was something so much more dangerous than that. and i think the proof is clear: choi ended up killing myeongjin anyway. i don't remember the timeline—it might have been during the time he was first pushing her away—and choi was still like: well. i am still going to kill you. for what you tried to do. and because maybe you're now even more impressed by seok, after she saved your life, and maybe now you're going to try harder to get her and now you really have to die.

i've been thinking about how strident choi got about people implying that seok is a romantic/sexual being to him. i thought it was interesting how only he had to stress the relational boundary: more than once, emphatically, murderously (you're telling me choi didn't enjoy killing min for what he said about seok?). i guess, to a large extent, seok was never going to have been the one needing to address the elephant in the room. i think the burden of proof for viewers and also other characters on the show would always be on the aging mentor, fixated on his beautiful young genius, his one and only weakness.

but seok never really needed to say 'ew, he's my teacher, shut up' to anyone, for anyone. because that would have been antithetical to her character. not only are her feelings (for anything) haphazard and wild, she wore her feelings about him on her skin the whole time. and then by the last shot—jesus. you imagine it's like, now seok has achieved Maximum Brain Knowledge. lol. but of course it's not that. she's achieved Maximum Knowledge about herself, about him, about the both of them. dis moi, je t'aime. that's all she wanted to hear from him: not just as a 'teacher' but as the only person she has ever wanted to be leashed to. that's why she kept saying: if you don't hate me, then explain your actions! and he would always say, i don't hate you. but he could never follow through with the logical conclusion of what he said. (the tattoo looked like one of those optical illusions to me by the end: a brain, but also two similar profiles kissing.)

i think it was important for choi to keep stressing the 'she is like family' element because otherwise he would really have had to recognise how much he failed being her teacher. i mean, it's not uncommon for teachers to play a parental role to gifted and/or troubled students. but choi's obsessiveness, his hunger for her, exceeded the duty of a teacher. the only way he could salvage it to himself—to other people, who were curious and/or crass about it—and maybe even to the audience—was by doubling-down on an 'acceptable' failure of the duty of the teacher (i.e. the teacher is no longer the teacher but only because the teacher has become [like] the father).

but it's so funny. if they're linked by blood, it's only because of how much he would spill for her. it's almost like he wants to be her father, but he can't, because of the mad depth of his feelings, and because (and this is crucial!) she does not want him to be her father. she wanted him to be her teacher. unfortunately, for choi, seok's idea of a teacher (of being her everything, of being the one thing that can not only withstand her desire to take, but be able to keep giving even after she thinks she is satisfied, of taming her, of being her superior and her equal all at once) is not very teacherly either. it's probably a lot similar to what he wanted to be for her, before he got freaked out by the depth of his feelings for her and kicked her out.

i think we tend to lay down boundaries only when we realise they're not there, or they're not as strong as we thought. i think choi felt so immensely weak to her—and i think that this weakness is cut with real desire. he desires her. i don't think he's ever let it rise to the surface of the only other relational category he refuses to consider. she's family, she's student, she's 'him', but she's NEVER desirable. even though all he does, throughout the show, is want her, horribly, desperately.

in the penultimate scene, he gets the joy of being able to both say 'see, i was always your (good) teacher' and also finally face oblivion in the OR, with her hands on him. in his head. in his brain. taking from him: his tumour, his knowledge, his life, everything, everything he has, which he wants to give her. i think, too, he wanted her to never forget him. to never be able to step into an OR ever again without thinking of him, of how he gave her everything.

what an idiot. every surgery she ever does, she's remembering his hands on her hands.

so she saves him. like she always knew she would. maybe even like he could not dare to hope.

but i like the idea that post-show, choi is on the run and debilitated by the idea that he's alive. that he didn't get to have his lovely fantasy of dying as her selfless teacher. that now he has to know a seok who wants him again because she has never stopped wanting him, like he has selfishly never stopped wanting her. a seok who—jesus—knew he was about to enter her OR seconds before his footsteps made a sound, her eyes sparkling. she is (literally) full of colour now. she found her other half. they just needed to stop pretending he wasn't there the whole time.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Wars got tuned lol

Usually Tune never says anything to Wars during Hyrule warriors (because timeline and everything)

But what if Tune was just thinking that he can win his older bro over without telling him they once were brothers

Because Warriors managed it as well so he would figure it out too he will just be affectionate and shit (Warriors was doing the same so he obviously has to prove that he can do it better)

So when Wars met Tune

Tune was just acting like they already knew each other for years and then proceeded to wipe the floor with Cia

(he overheard time and Warriors talking about her and now that he is in on the conflict he ain't letting her into a 30 mile radius of Wars if he can beat her beforehand)

So Wars pushed him away in the beginning out of anxiety because his only other stalker was Cia and he knows how that turned out (an entire war)

That convinced tune to try harder because he ain't losing to baby time at being the best younger sibling

So Wars had to deal with Tune giving him fairy food (which made wars question how and why he has the exact same measurements of HIS own personal fairy food recipe )

Creepily hovering next to his window with his face pressed against it and awkwardly attempting at making conversation with him (Tune was busy fighting Lana for this spot lol he EARNED the right to protect his brother from her likes)

Break into Wars apartment and then raid the fridge like he lives there yet leaving when asked because he respects the other’s privacy (considering how much he breaks in he might as well be no matter how often Wars changes the locks )

And asking if he can be friends with him at every single opportunity

Wars was NOT enjoying Tune's company at all (Tune was hearth broken lol)

But because Tune was reliable and unsettlingly ready to DIE for him when necessary and loyal to an undesirable degree (like Lana but more effective)

He would just have to accept that he is friends with a lunatic who has a very bad habit of asking him if he can join him in his fucking bed (Wind wants comfort he really doesn’t realize that he sounds like an absolute maniac)

But accepting Tune is a force that can’t be stopped gives him a few advantages

For example Lana is afraid of Tune so if he stays close to the maybe serious criminal then she will stay in line

That applies to every single person in Hyrule who has a crush on him

At first he thought that Tune also has a crush on him but Tune quickly corrected him because in his words “that is fucking disgusting you are so disgusting ew,… ewwww”

So because it is not a creepy crush he really has no idea what that guy's deal is

Because what else is there that would explain why the other wants to go kill somebody for him just because

But at some point he decides that the pros of having someone crazy that asks very intrusive questions but respects decisions like NOT getting to stay at his place

Are better then the cons of having no crazy friend to scare away undesired other crazy people

So Tune forcefully got to make friendship bracelets with wars

Wars pointing at Tune : sometimes you need a crazy friend to scare away other crazy people

Tune not explaining shit to him : We are friends finally :3

Wars : how the fuck are you still in my apartment !?,”,!? I changed the locks twenty times already!

Tune : ;) friendship

During linked universe Warriors had the biggest realization of history because why the fuck was Wind so bad at keeping their relationship from the future (past..it’s complicated) a secret

He obviously was much much better at it (.. he isn’t Wind just has no sense of boundaries and doesn’t care if a random guy is offering him a scarf in his sadness so warriors is correct in his books)

Time is disappointing in every single aspect of their life but learned from his own adventures that telling those idiots that they are idiots doesn’t diminish their idiocy

[dr5amatic]

BEYOND THE STORM ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel a sky beyond the storm by sabaa tahir. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

we are, all of us, just visitors in each other’s lives. you will forget my visit soon enough.

emotion is the enemy. love, hate, joy, fear. all are forbidden.

you will not win. i do not care what it takes, nor how long. i will defeat you.

death is not good, nor evil. there is no right or wrong with death. death is death.

murder is not the answer to everything.

worrying won’t help, but talking about it might.

defeat in your mind is defeat on the battlefield.

men are a terrible waste of air.

the world’s not only full of bad things, you know.

you of all people understand what it means to have the love of your life turned into someone else.

don’t let me fall, you idiot. unless you want to carry my carcass the next hundred miles.

it is torment to love someone hopelessly, with no chance of requital. there is no salve for it, no cure, no comfort.

your heart is the only thing that can be trusted.

i can’t change your mind, can i?

for me, [name], desire is not simple. it is not shelter. it is not warmth. it is a fire that offers no light, only heat, ruinous and consuming. the longer you deny it, the hotter it burns. you forget shelter. you forget warmth. there is only that which you want and cannot have, and the desolation that follows.

your wishes do not matter much to me.

you will not touch me. you will not even think about taking me anywhere without my leave.

may death claim me first.

when you look at me, what do you see?

you’re brave and wise. you just have to be patient too.

i am sworn to protect you.

i need you to disappear. to never leave. i need to have never met you or felt you. you. you. you. i need you.

why do you stand there like a moonstruck doe? if they catch you, they will kill you.

can a worm hurt a wolf, or an ant kill an eagle? no matter how badly you want me to die, i cannot.

i want to fight. i want a battle that isn’t in my head.

do you even remember those you’ve killed? or are there so many that their faces fade together?

greetings, death. you come to claim me at last.

i could not live with myself if more suffer because of me. stay away. leave me in peace.

there is no safe place for me in this world. not unless i create it for myself.

one day, you’ll have to reckon with all the things you try to hide from yourself. the longer you wait, the more it will hurt.

forgive me. laughing hurts less than facing what happened.

when i thought i was going to die, i thought about you.

there is no honor in death by idiocy. 

for the living, death is the only guarantee. it cannot be defeated.

war is your past. war is your present. war is your future.

a commander who has tasted the bitter fruit of war is the only one worthy of waging it, for they understand the cost.

i have missed you, my love.

get away from me. i will tell you nothing.

we are doomed, you and i, to offer more love than we will ever be given.

you’re a man of few words, so don’t waste the ones you do utter on things i already know.

this is my city and as long as i have breath left in my body, i will fight for it.

do not give me some sad story about love and loss and your broken heart.

you and i are more alike than you know, and that is not a compliment.

you’re in a position of great power. it’s a lonely place to be. most leaders spend their lives using others and being used. love isn’t just a luxury for you. it’s a rarity. it’s a gift. don’t throw it away.

you are lucky enough to love someone who loves you back. they are alive and breathing and in the same vicinity as you. by the gods, do something about it. for however long you have, for whatever time you get. because if you don’t, i swear that you’ll regret it. you’ll regret it for all your years.

mangoes are not as sweet if you are not sharing them with someone you love.

i didn’t care about them. not like i care about you.

i’d tear apart the world if anything happened to you.

you cannot make me stop loving you. not when i know that somewhere in there, you feel the same.

do you not understand why? i do this because I love you.

it’s so good to hear you laugh. you don’t laugh enough.

memory will make you weak and emotion will not serve you well.

you are broken, but it is the broken things that are the sharpest. the deadliest. it is the broken things that are the most unexpected, and the most underestimated.

i have seen what happens to those i love.

can i kick him? i’m going to kick him.

i still loved them. i shouldn’t have, but i did.

every time i touch you, i fall deeper into a place i know i will not be able to emerge from, should I lose you.

my soul aches with all that I should do. it weighs on me like a mountain, and i cannot bear it.

all my love goes with you.

i do not know if i will be able to do what must be done.

there are some things that do not die no matter how many blades we put into them.

love is why i still live.

come to me in the darkest hour of the night when the stars still sleep.

still flirting at inappropriate times, i see.

how many have died because of a king’s greed or a commander’s pride? 

how much pain exists in the world because we cannot get past what has been done to us, because we insist on inflicting pain back?

how does one move past such huge sins?

sometimes, it is better to die than to live as a monster.

there’s no one i’d rather have at my back.

love can be more powerful in a battle than planning or strategy. love keeps us fighting. love drives us to survive.

you don’t get to decide if you deserve my love or not. i decide that. you are worthy of my love.

your mistakes only define the rest of your life if you let them. don’t let them.

i want a life with you. adventures. meals. late nights in front of fires. a thousand rainy walks. you talking me out of my clothing in inappropriate places. i want more.

you cannot go first. i could not make sense of the world if you did.

there is not a single person alive who i trust more than you to do what must be done today.

all that i do is driven by love. love of all that was taken from us. love of what is left.

how do i go on when i’ve wrought such devastation? when all i have to give is death?

perhaps you and i are doomed to always be hurt. what we do with that hurt is our choice. 

how do we trust our happiness? how do we go on if we don’t know if it will be taken away?

i wish i could live a thousand lives so i could fall in love with you a thousand times.

[gojoidyll]

drunk | pierro x male!reader

warnings | strong language

"FUCK ALL OF YOU!"

Y/n slurred his words as he clung to the doorframe of the front entrance of the bar. His fatui uniform was unbuttoned and he had long lost his shoes when he and his fellow comrades were bar hopping.

He currently had a half emptied bottle of the strongest alcohol in all of Snezhnaya in one hand while his other, as mentioned previously, was clinging to the already loose frame.

His comrades merely laughed at his outburst though.

Fuck them all? Please, he was just angry over what they were saying. He'll forget by the morning.

"Come on, you know we were joking Y/n! Come back and knock back a few more drinks with us!"

"No! Go stub your pinky toes on coffee tables!"

Y/n turned then as he let go of the door frame and stumbled his way through the door. His hands now hugging the bottle closely to himself.

"Ah, shit. We better go after him-"

Though his comrades were effectively cut off by the introductions of more glasses of alcohol and pretty ladies serving them.

A drunken Y/n stumbling along the sidewalks at the dead of night in the snow was long forgotten about.

"Those complete assholes," y/n muttered. His vision was blurred, his mind wasn't working right, and he was offly drunk. Anything could go wrong in this situation. He could pass out and die in the snow. He could get robbed and possibly killed. He could-

"What. Are. You. Doing. L/n."

Sniffling, y/n blearily looked up. His eyes scanning the face of his superior officer, Pierro. Also known as the Jester, the first of the fatui harbingers.

"Walking," he said with a hiccup.

Pierro scanned over the bottle he clung to and gritted his teeth. He had no time to deal with idiocy, but he also didn't need to lose on of his best soldiers to a drunken stupor.

"Follow me."

Y/n didn't need to be told twice despite being drunk. Then again, many people told him that he was always compliant with a bottle in hand.

.

.

.

"Where are we," he muttered. His eyes gazing around a rather warm room. A fire was lit. And candles illuminated the darkness. Y/n could fall asleep in here, if he was being honest.

"My personal quarters," the Jester answered simply.

Speaking of the Jester, he had harshly grabbed Y/n's arm and sat him roughly on the couch while also yanking the bottle out of his hands. Y/n didn't let out any protests as he was still focused on analyzing the room. Pierro was impressed that the soldier before him still had a state of mind to actually look everything over considering the fact that he stunk if booze.

"Now."

Y/n was immediately drawn to Pierro's voice.

"You aren't one for drinking. Care to explain your reckless behavior? Or am I going to have to wait for an explanation till the morning?"

"No .. I can explain," y/n stuttered a bit as he scratched the back of his head, "one of my friends had a promotion yesterday, so we decided to celebrate tonight. I'm not one for drinking, but .. as the night went on and the conversations got too personal and angering, well, I didn't want to think anymore."

He tried to summarize the events as best as possible while slightly hoping Pierro wouldn't pry anymore.

Pierro, on the other hand, pried some more.

"The topics you didn't want to think about. What were they?"

Y/n sighed as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes focused on the floor.

"My friends are so mean," he slurred, "they know I like you, but they keep telling me I have no chance and that the Tsaritsa is the only one you think about," he hiccups a bit and continued, "not to mention I'm a man. If only I was a girl. A pretty one. Maybe you would look at me then."

Y/n fell back into the couch, his eyes drooping a little as he yawned.

"But .. I know where my place is. Its on the battlefield. With a weapon in hand. There's no time to think about life as a girl and how it would be being by your side," he muttered as he fell gently onto his side. The cushions encasing him in warmth as he began to set himself into a deep sleep.

"But at least .. I can fight with you .. every so often," y/n said trailing off. His breath evening out as sleep took over.

Pierro, on the other hand, watched y/n for a moment before getting up and walking over to him. His hand lightly pressing against Y/n's forehead and pushing his hair out of his face.

"I truly do hate it when you're drunk."

[crystalstylehexagon]

Headcanon: If Indra were in a game like Valorant (Exclusive)

// This exclusive headcanon is for @firstbornsecondchosen

I will continue the series for other Naruto characters BCS I've been on a serious Valorant brainrot as of recent. I'll probably work on ability voice lines as well.

Enjoy!

Start of the match:

Defending:

"What is this place...? Another dimensional fragment? No matter... I will concur it, either way."

"The battlefield...How I missed it..."

"So this is something they call a... Gun? Why use such a dishonorable weapon when you can use a katana or your abilities?"

"I don't need some petty weapon to defeat my opponents, but if they insist on dying in such a dishonorable way... Who am I to not oblige?"

"Many had fallen by my hand, today will be no different..."

"All this... Radiant and "spike" talk... Why not just end them quickly? Less trouble and less annoying beeping of that weird machinery..."

"I will destroy them all, even if I have to tear down this place to do so..."

"I do not need allies to rid of five people, but if you insist..."

"They will cower before my power and will. I guarantee it."

Attacking:

"Let us end this quickly, i have more important matters to attend to."

"It seems that competency in the battlefield is lacking in these modern days. I will change that- Show them how it is done."

"Allies will only get in the way of the goal. Let me do the killing, it will be more efficient."

"It is a shame that this place has to perish by that machinery... But it will change nothing. Only thing that matters is survival, so do stay alive."

"Let us get this over with."

Ally Ashura interactions:

"Of course, i have to be stuck with this epitome of idiocy..."

"So, brother dear..." He sneered. "How have you been all these centuries? Living off on what was supposed to be rightfully mine?"

"Ah, I had to be paired up with the one who robbed me of everything. How ironic..." He glares at Ashura. Ashura looks down. "I will apologize over and over if I have to, though I doubt it would change anything between us, brother..." Ashura replies. "Don't waste your breath, you are no longer my brother. Once this is over, we will once more be nothing more than enemies." Indra replies coolly.

"Ah, my incompetent brother. Nice to see you. Once we are done here, you will die by my blade."

Enemy Ashura Interactions:

"I feel a radiant energy over there, no doubt about who it is. Ashura is mine! He will die by my hand today!" He laughs maniacally.

"The man who robbed me of my life and purpose... You will not stand to see another day." He growls.

"There's no mistaking that energy, it is Ashura... However, I wonder how many times I must deal with him. No matter, he will stay dead this time..."

"YOU'RE MINE, ASHURA! I WILL RECLAIM WHAT WAS STOLEN FROM ME!"

Killed Enemy Ashura:

"As expected, you stayed as you were centuries ago: Naive and talentless."

"Path of righteousness?" He snorted a laugh. "And look where that got you, otouto..."

"FINALLY! I HAVE MY REVENGE!!!" Indra laughs maniacally, but it dies down, filled by silence. "...Yet-... Somehow... It makes me feel worse..."

"If only you had listened and had not gotten in my way all those centuries ago... Now you pay the price, brother dear..."

"My dream has been realized... But... Why do I feel emptier inside...?"

Ally Sasuke:

"My descendant and i on the same team. Though i don't need anyone's help- I shall see through if you are worthy of being called my reincarnation..."

Enemy Sasuke:

"THIS is my legacy? My reincarnation? Ha! How pitiful... I will end him quickly."

"I would rather not have a legacy at all, if this pathetic excuse of a human weilds my sacred powers."

"There are things far beyond that boy's comprehension in this world, even with the eyes that mirror my own, he is blind."

Killed Enemy Sasuke:

"And that is the end for you, boy."

"You are unworthy to weild my powers, now be gone."

"Be glad I ended you with mercy."

"You are nothing but a cheap copy of me, a cheap copy that I had no problem getting rid of..."

Ally Naruto:

"What is this... This familiar energy... No, you are not him... It matters not, after we are done here, you will fall before me."

"And who are you supposed to be? A knock-off of my brother?"

Enemy Naruto:

"This boy... He is the reincarnation of my brother... Nobody lay a hand on him, he will die by my hand."

"Such brightness and warmth... Don't worry, that won't last for long."

Killed Enemy Naruto:

"Just like my otouto... Foolish until the very end."

"Odd... I feel no pity for this... Thing." He sneers.

"That was your best? I suppose ancestral inferiority shows."

Round won: Barely survived:

"Ghh..." He grits his teeth. "This is nothing..."

"I have survived far worse than a bullet from the toys you call weapons."

"You're alive, Indra..." He mumbles to himself, reassuringly. "You're still alive..."

"I will not die here. I have too much to do!"

Defused the spike:

"This... Trinket was supposed to annihilate this place? Ha! Don't make me laugh."

"It is done, now I can get back to my business in peace."

Successfully detonated the spike:

"Fascinating how this beeping thing can cause so much damage... I suppose it has its uses."

"There, it is done. Now to hunt down my brother and make him pay for all he has done..."

Game won:

"And with that, the hunt ends."

"This was their best? They should bring a more competent, trained soldiers next time."

"How sad, I barely broke a sweat..."

Aced:

"More... Bring me more to kill!" He lets out a sadistic laugh.

"Ahahaha! Victory is rightfully mine!"

"You have missed your chances, and now you pay the price with your lives..."

"As expected."

"Let us do this again, and again and again. I will tear through you all each and every time!"

[thezombieprostitute]

Frayed - Part 2

Summary: There are so many new things happening in your life that the only two things you can count on are your boyfriend, Mace, and that your life is almost always in danger. 

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Implied death and violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

The heat wave hit hard and it affected your work almost as much as Mace's. The free clinic received an influx of people suffering heat sickness and it was all hands on deck. Your job priorities quickly changed to focusing on the machines that helped patients with temperature regulation and hydration.

You also found yourself helping out with some of the kids of patients. They were often scared about what was going on and rarely got answers. You and one of the nurses would provide or fix up toys to help soothe them a bit. You did enjoy showing the kids how you were fixing their electronic toys. Some of them would hold your arm tight as you showed them what you were doing. It broke your heart but there were a lot of people needing help and you had to do your part.

By the end of your shift, you're exhausted physically, emotionally and mentally. You just need to get home and collapse.

Mace's day hasn't been any better than yours. The heat wave was putting a lot of pressure on the power grid and a lot of residents were feeling it. There were a number of power blinks throughout the day, throwing off everyone's air conditioners, sometimes even circuit breakers. Some of the residents, whether out of desperation, idiocy, or anger, tried fixing things themselves, only making them worse.

He hated that he had to text you that he wouldn't be able to pick you up. The work was keeping all of his employees busy. When you read the text, you're disappointed. You didn't want to walk in the heat and humidity at all. But you recognize his work as important. Thinking about all the people that visited the clinic and how Mace is doing his part to keep more people from having to go.

You decide you're going to go ahead and treat yourself to some ice cream at one of the restaurants along the way. You've worked hard and you deserve a treat, dammit. The ice cream parlor is surprisingly, but thankfully, pretty empty. Just you, a few customers and some teens working behind the counter. The ice cream and quiet atmosphere really help you to feel better. You figure Mace could use some cheering up of some kind as well so you decide to send him a joke.

“Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you're CuTe.” It's a dumb joke, but hopefully it'll help him smile.

As you wait for his reply, someone sits across from you. You try not to gape at the scars on his face. He's big and tall with dark hair and one blue eye. The other is white, likely a result from whatever scarred him so horribly. You set your hand on your purse where your taser is.

“Your testimony led to a friend of mine getting killed,” he says with an accusatory tone. “Tell me who killed him and your safety is guaranteed. You're just a pawn, after all.”

“No one got killed because of my testimony,” you state. You really don't know what he's talking about. Your testimony saved lives. Mace, Scott, Teach, none of them said anything about problems or killings while you were on the stand.

He leans forward and your hand goes into your purse, gripping your taser. “I suppose they wouldn't have told you,” he sighs. “Just tell me a name, someone who kept you safe, and I'll leave you be.”

“I was protected by the police, witness protection. Standard stuff,” you partially lie. It was Scott and his team at first. They didn't need The Family's help until it was discovered there was a mole.

He turns his head to the side a little, giving you a very good look at that bad eye. “I suggest you think over your loyalties. When you're ready to tell me something, come back here.”

He gets up and leaves and you finally let yourself breathe. It's all you really can do.

You know you're being watched. If you text or call Mace, he'll run over to get you but that would put him in danger. Possibly more than just him. You decide to text Teach. A call would be overheard and you want to keep this as contained as possible.

Well, what you really wanted was to cry and run home but the logical part of your brain was being put in charge. It's part and parcel with being employed by The Family. And that's what you had chosen all those months ago after the trial.

Message Teach, wait for instructions. You can do this.

Mace practically pounded the door to the apartment. Curtis had called and told him what happened and that you were being kept safe at their place. The second there'd been a lull in work orders he dropped everything to get to you.

As soon as Teach opened the door he pushed past her and grabbed you while you were getting up off the couch. He held you tight and you finally let yourself cry knowing you and Mace were safe.

“Why didn't you call me,” he gently chastises you.

“Because you'd be spotted and they'd know you were in on everything and then you'd be in danger and I didn't want to risk that.”

He chuckles, “even when you're scared you're thinking logically. I love that about you.” The hug is interrupted by Curtis giving a small cough. Mace turns to Teach, “sorry about rushing past you.”

“It's okay,” she assures. “I very much understand. And so does Curtis.” Teach smirks at Curtis as his glare towards Mace lessens with the accepted apology.

You and Mace sit down on the couch as Teach and Curtis pull up chairs.

Curtis starts, “from the description DC's given us, we know the man who approached her is August Walker. He was a lackey for Kent but must've recently had his leash loosened.”

“Makes sense,” Mace replies. “Kent's too busy working on his reputation and lawsuits to keep hold of everyone who works for him.”

“There's still something I need to know,” you speak up. “Walker said someone was killed because of my testimony?” Curtis, Mace and Teach exchange looks. Their silence speaks volumes and you filled with rage and horror. “What the hell? Why didn't you tell me?!” You pull yourself away from Mace and start pacing the living room.

“The less you knew about it, the less culpable you were,” Teach says as gently as she can.

“No,” you argue, “the less I know, the more open I am to surprise, the less capable I am!” You turn to Mace. “You knew about this, too, didn't you?”

“Yes,” he admits quietly.

“My testimony was supposed to help people, not get them killed!”

“If it helps,” Curtis cuts in, “the man who was killed was a bad man.”

“How do you know?”

“He was an assassin from Wilford & Gilliam. He and his brother killed my brother.” Teach gently rubs his hand in an attempt to comfort him. This isn't information he shares with just anyone.

You sniffle, still angry. Still scared. Still overwhelmed. You look at Mace, “I...I can understand why you didn't tell me any of this. But I'm going to be mad at you for some time.” Mace nods in agreement. You turn to Teach and Curtis, “so what do we do now?”

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

Tagging everyone who had asked to be tagged in Sparks Fly. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the list.

@alicedopey; @chibijusstuff; @delicatebarness; @fluxxdog; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @rebekahdawkins; @ronearoundblindly; @texmexdarling

[kraken17]

One quote from Enid Sinclair per every chapter of Kooky Spooky in which she has been present.

(Note: She is present in Ch.6 & 7 but in a total wolf out, so she has no dialogue).

"Yeah, yeah... relax. The knife-throwing contest is still on. I already made it clear to Wednesday that she could only use volunteers as living targets. Yoko has offered." (Chapter 1)

"I think she's mine and Wednesday's daughter, but not from around here." (Chapter 2)

"Sigh... as tempting as it is I'd ask you both not to maim her just because of her bad habit of spouting occasional idiocy." (Chapter 3)

"They've captured our Friday. Let's go find her and then you'll teach me what's the most painful way to rip off the head of the person responsible." (Chapter 4)

"Sorry, I just… I don't feel like wasting time with this ceremony right now..." (Chapter 5)

"OMG! Why do I always forget this now when I return to my human form!!??" (Chapter 8)

"Holy shit, I'm a hunk." (Chapter 10)

"Aaaw, I think it's very cute. I'm sure deep down your Bruno appreciated this kind of attention." (Chapter 11)

"Are you very fond of this nightgown?" (Chapter 12)

"And I smell people, and pollution, lots of pollution." (Chapter 13)

"Gosh, you're a year older than us now. This is disconcerting." (Chapter 14)

"Wednesday, don't talk about your parents as if they were rabbits." (Chapter 15)

"I'm sorry... I..." (Chapter 16)

"You threw me against a building and caused me to terrify a family! That's very rude!" (Chapter 17)

"At least you're not a racist nutcase who would use her personal Hyde to gather bits of human remains for resurrection rituals." (Chapter 18)

"Your sister told us a little about you when we met her. Well, she told us that you liked to be thrown with catapults..." (Chapter 19)

"I'm not going to fight you! We don't have the time!" (Chapter 20)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" (Chapter 21)

"Uh, I should say something, but just for calling Tyler a dime-store Hyde I'll let you have a pass." (Chapter 22)

"Wednesday and I are keeping our names because our dimension was the one originally visited by the others... Pure convenience but it was all by mutual agreement between all parties." (Chapter 23)

"What happened to my local counterpart?" (Chapter 24)

"God, it's a little trippy to think of myself as dead." (Chapter 25)

"Principal Weems! Or maybe I should say director... uh... because of the... Yeah, I'd better shut up." (Chapter 26)

"Uh... yeah, it's something I usually do, Wednesday. You used to love to complain about it." (Chapter 27)

"For your own sake, you'd better..." (Chapter 28)

"They will have no hesitation in killing any of you." (Chapter 29)

"You're going...to pay...for..." (Chapter 30)

"Oh... erm... apology accepted my... err... my lord?" (Chapter 33)

"But wait a minute, if they're a confederation of packs how come there's a princess?" (Chapter 34)

"I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with your last name. It's just that... well, in my reality a counterpart of you is one of my best friends." (Chapter 35)

"Ok, the doppelgänger thing I can get, but what's with the homunculus?" (Chapter 36)

"And now... now I get this story that I'm some kind of... multiversal warrior who reincarnates, like a cheap copy of Avatar: The Last Airbender!?" (Chapter 37)

"Ah, ah. I already know the electricity trick." (Chapter 38)

"We're going to breach The Bright One's defenses. And we won't use magic to do it. What we need is science. Mad science." (Chapter 39)

"What do you say about finding a way to inter-dimensionally travel to a magically sealed universe to rescue Wednesday and Friday and deal with an army of supernatural monsters?" (Chapter 40)

"Six months, my love. It has taken me six months to be able to come back to you." (Chapter 41)

"It's just that if you leave me stranded in another universe I have a bad habit of trying to find my way back." (Chapter 42)

"Oops, someone's a wee bit cranky." (Chapter 43)

"It's just that… Look at her! We're not even talking about being just a MILF anymore. I'm going to be totes a GILF, for real." (Chapter 44)

“My name… is… Enid Addams.” (Chapter 46)

"Fuck, Weds, getting stabbed by a saber shouldn't feel so good!" (Chapter 47)

"Who are we? Right now and right here, we are the Addams family." (Chapter 48)

"Well...I mean...the truth is...erm...Ireallylikeyourhairandyourloosehairdoesthingstome." (Chapter 49)

"Six months, Weds. I've been six months away from you. The word insatiable doesn't even come close to describing how I feel.” (Chapter 50)

“You know, if you keep calling them that they're going to end up being born with horns and wings.” (Epilogue)