#Olympia press

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Brian McNaughton - In Flagrant Delight - Olympia Press - 1971

[tilbageidanmark]

(Click to see the memes I'm making)

[stylestream]

Natalie Portman | Christian Dior Spring 2013 Couture dress • Charlotte Olympia sandals | Thor: The Dark World Paris Premiere | 2013

[olympia3000]

Lolita clutch by Olympia Le Tan

[rafedarling]

queen have u seen the new photos of Drew. 🤭🤭

dad!Drew x reader where like it’s the blue suit red carpet and the whole family is in italy together and reader thinks drew looks so yummy so it’s like smut where they get back to the hotel and they have to be quiet AF

yass girl and not gonna lie, he looks fucking hot !

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐲

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader summary: at the venice film festival 2024, drew and you, both acclaimed actors, make a stunning appearance on the red carpet for the premiere of the new movie, ‘queer’. your two-year-old twin daughters, ophelia and olympia, accompany you and drew, captivating everyone with their sweet presence. after the event, the starkey returns to their luxurious hotel suite, where, after putting the girls to bed, you and drew indulges in a passionate, intimate moment, trying to keep quiet as your daughters sleeping in the room next door. | word count: 2,8k warning(s): english is not my native language. 18+, smut, piv, creampie, cum play, sexual content, language, MINOR DNI!!

au: fill this form if you want to be tag. like, reblog & reply or much appreciated! tagging: @rafeyslamb

As the sun was setting over Venice, casting the city in a warm, golden glow as you and Drew Starkey arrived at the Venice Film Festival. The air buzzed with excitement as stars from around the world gathered to celebrate the premiere of QUEER, a film that had garnered significant attention for its bold storytelling and representation. Tonight, you and Drew were not just co-stars but partners, sharing the spotlight with your two-year-old twin daughters, Ophelia and Olympia.

As you stepped onto the red carpet, the cameras flashed, capturing the perfect image of a beautiful family. Drew looked stunning in a deep navy suit, the black lapels adding a sharp contrast that highlighted his chiseled features. His hair was styled just so, a little tousled, giving him an effortlessly handsome look. You wore a flowing, elegant gown that complemented Drew’s suit perfectly, the fabric shimmering under the lights as you walked hand in hand.

Ophelia and Olympia were dressed in matching white dresses, their blonde curls bouncing with every step as they clung to your hands, their little faces a mixture of awe and curiosity. They had been to events before, but nothing quite like this. The sheer scale of the festival, the grandeur of the venue, and the attention from the media were overwhelming for anyone, let alone two toddlers. Yet, they handled it with the grace of seasoned professionals, waving shyly at the cameras, their innocent smiles melting the hearts of everyone watching.

As you posed for photos, Drew leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. “But I think the girls are stealing the show.”

Drew chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at Ophelia and Olympia. “They are, aren’t they? Just like their mom—beautiful and captivating.”

The interviews followed, and as usual, Drew handled the press with charm and ease. The reporters were eager to hear about your experiences on set, the dynamics of working together as a couple, and of course, how you managed to balance your careers with raising your daughters. Drew’s answers were thoughtful and sincere, emphasizing how much he valued the time spent with his family, both on and off the set.

“They’re the reason I do this,” he said, glancing at you and the girls with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Having them here with me tonight makes it all the more special.”

The night continued with more photos, more interviews, and a palpable sense of anticipation for the premiere. But as much as you enjoyed the spotlight, the most important part of the evening was the shared experience with Drew and your daughters. You could see the pride in Drew’s eyes every time he looked at you or the girls, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had been on together.

After the screening of QUEER, which was met with a standing ovation, the four of you were whisked back to your hotel in a sleek black car. The night air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the cameras and the lights of the red carpet. Ophelia and Olympia, who had been little stars all evening, were starting to show signs of fatigue. Their little eyes drooped, and they leaned heavily against you and Drew, their tiny bodies growing limp with exhaustion.

Back at the hotel, you and Drew worked together to get the girls ready for bed. The suite was spacious and luxurious, with a separate bedroom for the twins. After helping them out of their dresses and into their pajamas, you read them a story, your voice soft and soothing as they snuggled into their beds. Drew sat beside you, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand gently stroking Olympia’s hair as her eyes slowly closed.

Ophelia was the first to fall asleep, her hand clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. Olympia held out a little longer, her eyes fluttering open and closed until finally, she gave in to sleep. You and Drew sat there for a moment longer, watching your daughters’ peaceful faces, their soft breathing filling the room with a sense of calm.

Finally, you and Drew quietly left the room, closing the door behind you with a gentle click. The suite was silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint noise of the city outside. You leaned against the door, your eyes meeting Drew’s across the room.

“They were amazing tonight,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

Drew walked over to you, his gaze intense as he cupped your face in his hands. “They take after their mother,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You were incredible too. I’m so proud of you.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Drew’s eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “We finally have some time to ourselves,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “What do you want to do?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine at the implication in his tone. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “I can think of a few things,” you replied, your voice breathless as you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Drew responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he pressed you against the door. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intense need that was building between you. His hands roamed your body, expertly undoing the zipper of your dress and letting it fall to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric.

You broke the kiss just long enough to help him out of his jacket and shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you undid the buttons. Drew’s hands found your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his need for you growing with every passing second.

He backed you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he guided you onto the soft mattress. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat of his skin as he hovered above you, his gaze raking over your body with a look of pure adoration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Drew whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed a trail down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path on your skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You arched into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his descent, his mouth hot against your collarbone. “Drew...” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with need as you felt him reach for the clasp of your bra, expertly undoing it and tossing it aside.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as he gently cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, making you gasp. Drew smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself as he dipped his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

Your back arched off the bed at the sensation, a moan escaping your lips as you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, every nerve in your body on high alert as Drew lavished attention on your breasts, his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

After what felt like an eternity of blissful torment, Drew continued his journey downward, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your hips as he slowly pulled your panties down, leaving you completely exposed to him. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he gently spread your legs, positioning himself between them.

You bit your lip, anticipation building as you felt the heat of his breath against your most sensitive area. “Drew, please...” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With a low growl of desire, he dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you, your hips bucking involuntarily as you moaned his name. Drew’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge.

You clung to the sheets, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations as Drew brought you to the brink of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as he inserted a finger inside you, the sensation of his long, skilled fingers pushing you over the edge.

You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Drew continued to work you through it, his fingers and mouth never stopping until you were completely spent, your body going limp with exhaustion.

Drew climbed back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself at your entrance. You were still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but the feel of him so close, so ready, reignited the fire inside you.

You wrapped your legs around Drew’s waist, pulling him closer as he hovered above you, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of love, desire, and admiration swirling within them. He held himself there, just at your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, unable to find the words as anticipation coursed through your veins. The look in his eyes was enough to send another shiver of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against you, and the need to have him inside you was almost unbearable.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I need you, Drew.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, Drew pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure as he stretched you, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. You both moaned as he entered you fully, the feeling of him deep inside you almost overwhelming.

Drew paused, his forehead resting against yours as he took a moment to savor the sensation, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“So do you,” you replied breathlessly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. The connection between you was palpable, an unspoken bond that had only deepened over time. Every touch, every movement felt like a promise, a testament to the love you shared.

Drew started to move, slow and steady at first, his thrusts deep and measured. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure through your body, building a delicious tension that made you gasp and cling to him even tighter. His hands roamed your body, one settling on your hip to guide your movements, the other brushing the hair away from your face as he kissed you deeply.

The kiss was passionate, filled with the kind of raw, unfiltered emotion that only came from years of love and trust. You could feel the intensity of his feelings in the way he kissed you, in the way he held you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. It was more than just physical; it was a connection of souls, a merging of hearts.

As Drew’s thrusts became more urgent, the pace quickened, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another orgasm. He seemed to sense it too, his movements becoming more purposeful, his hand slipping between your bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves that he knew would push you over the edge.

When he touched you there, the sensation was electric, your body responding instantly as pleasure exploded within you. You cried out his name in silece, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling with the force of it. Drew didn’t stop, his movements relentless as he continued to drive into you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

Finally, with a few more powerful thrusts, Drew followed you over the edge, his own release coming with a guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release, the pulsing of his body against yours as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

For a moment, the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, both of you trying to catch your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, mingling together in the stillness of the night.

Drew finally lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he smiled down at you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with love. “I love you, Drew” you replied, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Drew.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was a kiss filled with all the love and affection he couldn’t put into words, a promise that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

He rolled over, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your legs still entwined. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a state of contentment. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the closeness, the feel of each other’s bodies pressed together. The world outside might have been filled with the glitz and glamour of the festival, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s love.

Eventually, Drew shifted slightly, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing motion. “We should probably get some sleep,” he murmured, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “The girls will be up early.”

You chuckled softly, knowing he was right. As much as you wanted to stay in this moment forever, the responsibilities of parenthood would call soon enough. “Yeah,” you agreed, though you made no move to get up just yet.

Drew smiled, tightening his hold on you. “We’ll have plenty of nights like this,” he promised, his voice filled with certainty. “Plenty of moments where it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, feeling a warm sense of contentment settle over you. “I’m looking forward to it,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest before finally, reluctantly, rolling off of him.

You both moved slowly, the exhaustion from the day and the intensity of your lovemaking catching up with you. Drew helped you pull the covers up over your bodies, his arm wrapping around you once more as you settled against his side. The bed was warm and comfortable, and you could feel yourself drifting off almost immediately, the events of the day a pleasant blur in your mind.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Drew press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

“Goodnight,” you murmured back, a smile on your lips as you finally surrendered to the peaceful darkness.

And with that, you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[commander-rahrah]

Firsts

Pairing: Astarion (non-ascended) x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1200 archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

Summary: Post ending of BG3, established relationship. GN!Tav/Reader having a bit of self doubt and worrying that Astarion fell for the very first person he met once he realized he was free from Cazador and that they would understand if he someday decides that he wants to go explore or meet new people or fall in love more then once. Astarion’s reacts to this worry.

Note: I haven't posted any BG3 fics yet, but I just couldn't resist writing this little scene that's been bouncing around in my head this past week! I wrote it originally for my Tav named Olympia, a tiefling bard, but I changed it to second perspective for this post.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*

Astarion’s eyes were trained on your fidgety movements. You were picking at the blanket as you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand shifting anxiously back and forth as your brow was crumpled in thought.

Something was eating away at you. He just wasn’t sure what. You two had a seemingly normal day, not starting until well past sunset (your new adopted routine just for him). The both of you had done some research and shopping before returning to the tiny rooms you were calling home for the time being to relax for the remainder of the night.

But now that he thought about it, you had barely touched your meal tonight. And were much quieter than usual, not as optimistic or positive during the research that had once again been futile. Perhaps you were being plagued by nightmares again — images of the horrors the party had faced just a couple months ago were resurfacing.

A flash of anger coursed through him at himself for not noticing sooner. Taking a breath he didn’t really need, he strode over to you and joined you on the edge of the bed — the mattress sinking slightly with his added weight.

“Copper for your thoughts, my sweet?” He asked with a tilt of his head, before tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I— I was thinking…,” You were quiet, and stumbled as you opened your mouth. He’d very rarely seen you like this — you always had a way with your words. You could be more poetic and flowery than even him. “And— and I understand if you do end up feeling this way.”

Confusion spread across all of Astarion’s features, “What in the hells are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him, your eyes big and crinkled with worry, “I was the first person you met when you realized you were free… from him.” The pair of you had silently agreed to never mention that name again. “The first person you’ve been with. If you… if you decide you want to go see the world, experience new things, new people… I would understand.”

His jaw clenched together, “What?”

“I feel selfish keeping you all to myself. When there’s so much of the world you’ve not seen, so many other people you could be with that I—“

His red eyes blinked at you, before his lips turned downward, “You’re being serious.”

“I—“

He cut you off abruptly, waving his hand dramatically and pressing it into his chest, “Do you think that’s what I want? Have I told you that’s what I want?”

You shook your head, lips creasing, “No, I just want you to know that it’s ok if—“

“What, if I want to leave?” He stood up from the bed, looming in front of you as he spoke, “If I want to go galivant around to meet mysterious strangers, have a tryst or some torrid affair? I know that I am capable of making my own decisions. I know that darling, and I chose you. I choose you. And you reciprocated that.”

“I did. I do, I choose you. But I’ve—“

He interrupted you again, “Let me ask you something. Do you love me?”

“Of course. With all my heart.”

His heart still swelled with your answer. It did every time you admitted it to him. To hear it put out into the universe. That a tiny corner of it was indeed intended for him and you.

He pursed his lips before asking, “Have you loved people before me?”

“I—yes.” You admitted, looking down to your fingers that had become a twisted knot on your lap now.

“And did it feel the same? The love you shared for those other people.” He asked quietly, stepping closer and leaning down to undo the knot of your fingers. Instead threading them through his own pale, cold ones. “Did your love for them feel the same way you love me?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, squeezing his hand in confirmation. “No. Not even close.”

“Exactly. You explored and experienced… and it still led you here, to me now. To your version of a first, yes?”

You nodded, the bottoms of your beautiful eyes starting to form with water as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

“I don’t need anybody else, or anywhere else.” Astarion sank to his knees in front of you, keeping his hands intertwined with your own. He dipped his head so he was looking up at you, his red eyes soft and tender. “Look… yes, you may have been the first person I stumbled upon after that damn ship. The first person I met once I realized I was free from his grasp. But you are also the first person to treat me with kindness and compassion. Respect. You’ve fought for me, protected me, fed me, been patient with me. You were the first person whose touch doesn’t make me feel ill, the first person who’s brought me to a blissful euphoria. You’ve given me peace. Autonomy. Safety. And love. No one has ever done that for me, not in my whole existence.”

His half dead heart was thundering in his chest. He had already declared himself to you once before, yet his whole body was shaking with emotion right now.

“And how dare you think so little of yourself. You aren’t just some notch in my belt, not a stepping stone in my life. You are everything.” Astarion used his thumb and finger to push your chin up, forcing your eyes to stare up into his. “I love you. No on else. And there will be no one else.”

The tears that were welling in your eyes finally broke free, rolling down your freckled cheeks. “I love you too. Irrevocably so.” Your voice was a raspy whisper.

“Oh my lovely moon, I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” Astarion’s voice was a gentle whisper.

He pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, both of his hands moving to grab the sides of your face. His pale thumbs wiped away the tears. “I surely hope these are somewhat happy tears now?”

You nodded profusely in his hands, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Happy, relieved.”

“Good. Now, no more of this talk alright? There is only room for one person to be filled with self doubt in this relationship and that position is currently filled by me.”

You frowned, “Starry, don’t jest about things like that.”

“Old habit.” His smirk pulled up enough that his fangs poked out. “No more stewing with your anxious thoughts. You’re going to come and join me on the balcony. Come on,” He stood up and held out his pale hand for you before he gently tugged you to the small balcony attached to your rooms.

The pair of you looked up at the inky black sky, glittering with the sprinkling of stars you could still see in Baldur’s Gate. They were blinking and swirling around the glowing, full moon. A sigh of contentment left you both as you stood in comfortable silence and basked in the light.

“What would the stars be without their moon?” He whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist as he gathered you into him.

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 119.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[half written chapter]

"the netizens are destroying you." commented yujin as her eyes scanned her phone screen while her finger scrolled down through her socials.

"i know, you've been saying the same thing every time you go on twitter." grumbled serim before taking a swig from her water bottle.

"how could you post a picture of a cigarette?" exclaimed chaeyoung in exasperation from the armchair the group had in their practice room.

"i already answered you that every time yujin reminded me that i'm being destroyed online." the leader gave a frustrated sigh.

"it's worrisome, let us react accordingly." minnie approached jang with her backpack hanging from her shoulder and the one that belonged to her bandmate in her hand. "you know how they are in olympia, if the press keeps this up, they're going to put you on hiatus." she threw the belongings at her.

"they're not going to put me on hiatus." serim grabbed her bag and stood up, following the thai who led the group towards the door to leave after finishing practice. "we are at the peak of our success."

"exactly! so knetz are more on us than ever!" complained yujin, smacking her on the back of the head. "you shouldn't be doing anything that ruins our image."

"but it's just a picture of a cigarette!" the attacked one fluttered her arms through the air reason of her despair. "many celebrities are public smokers." she reminded lowering her tone of voice.

"but you're a woman." minnie grabbed the door handle and without taking her eyes off serim, opened it. "and anything you do is much more controversial."

"what did you do?" an intrusive voice came from behind the singer causing all the HeAVEN members to jump and scream from the sudden fright.

"holy shit, jimin!" shrieked an annoyed serim covering her face with her hands. "what a scare." she muttered uncovering her features and looking angrily at the girl who had personified herself behind the door and was smiling innocently back at her.

"we all see her, don't we?" questioned yves as the members began to approach one another until they accumulated and piled up against each other.

"blink twice if you are real and not a figment of our imagination." yujin ordered the newcomer.

jimin, standing in the hallway of olympia entertainment's building, at the entrance to the group's practice room, looked at them in bewilderment, not understanding why they were reacting so astonished. with the same silly -or awkward- smile she'd had since she arrived, she listened and blinked twice, which elicited groans and surprise from the others.

okay... she wasn't welcome. good to know.

"i can't believe it." chaeyoung straightened up, separating herself from the human mass they had formed, dropping her arms in frustration. "i'm going to lock myself in the bathroom, let me know when she leaves." she walked toward it with a slumped posture.

"i see you are all very fond of me." observed the girl.

"go!" the maknae called out, extending the vowel and raising her hand to point toward the exit.

"i'll go." she reassured.

"awesome!" celebrated minnie.

"but with serim." she added.

"oh no." sooyoung shook her head in disgust at the idea.

"did you come to kidnap me?" questioned jang with a horrified expression.

"it's not kidnapping if you come with me voluntarily." she cocked her head, giving her a look of obviousness.

"but i don't want to go with you voluntarily." the older refused.

"namu, come here." she took a few steps towards her taking her wrist and leading her out.

"she's kidnapping me." warned serim to her mates as she walked behind the blackhaired.

"it's not like you're resisting." contradicted yves with a disappointed expression on her face before the door closed behind serim.

"what do you want?" the older one queried once they were alone in the hall, crossing her arms and furrowing her brows as she watched jimin.

"to take you home." she replied simply and somewhat tenderly, she was terrified of a possible negative reaction, but she couldn't not find her angry attitude adorable.

"you depraved woman!" she exclaimed offended, pulling away from her a bit.

"no, wait." interrupted the younger girl awkwardly. "not to my house." she clarified. "i came to take you to your house." explained.

"what for?" she looked at her sideways.

"i decided that i'm going to come get you from work and drive you to your place like you did all this time for me." she revealed. "i'm trying to start over, to make you fall in love with me the right way."

"jimin," she dropped her head, tired.

"no, listen to me." she stopped her. "let me try, i want to make things right." she fought back.

"no, jimin, i was going to say you don't have a car and you don't know how to drive, what do you mean you're coming to get me every day?" she exposed.

"i extorted my manager to drive me here every day-" she spoke very fast, knowing that what she had done was morally wrong so she wanted to defend herself as soon as possible, preventing serim from judging her.

"are you trying to get me back by extorting people?" she shouted.

"she what?" minnie was heard startled from inside the room.

"since when are you an honorable person?" pointed karina incredulously.

"oh, and now you're trying to win me back by calling me a bad person." she couldn't believe it.

"that's not what i mean!" she tried to fix the situation, stressed. "you stole my wallet!"

"that was months ago!" she put her hands on both sides of her waist. "and i gave it back to you!"

"well, i'm extorting a person for a good cause." she argued.

"it's for a whim." she dismissed.

"you are not a whim." her tone turned serious and the lively expression on her face turned into a sad one, following serim's every move with her eyes wide and bright, as if she were a child about to cry. "you matter to me and i genuinely want to make things right with you."

serim faced her, turning her body fully in her direction. she scanned the opposite calmly, silently, if you concentrated on her eyes you could see the thread of thoughts weaving behind them, contemplating how she should act. the younger girl looked pleading, aware of possible rejection, but with some hope within the brown of her pupils.

"listen." she broke the silence.

"yes, my namu?" her eyebrows raised in amusement, sensing in her manner of speaking something good.

"no, listen to me." the woman repeated coolly, causing jimin to return to seriousness and nod her head. "i'll go with you." she agreed, to which the blackhaired began to jump and squeal in celebration. "stop it." she held her still by placing her hands on her shoulders and applying pressure. "just for today." she clarified.

"i'll convince you tomorrow too." she warned confidently.

"we'll see." jang murmured.

"namu." karina called.

"what do you want now?"

"are we about to kiss?" she narrowed her eyes as she groped the situation, referring to the closeness between them and the hold serim still had on her body.

"you should stop talking before i change my mind." she advised, abruptly removing her touch from her and approaching the door to open it. "i have a kidnapping to attend, see you later." she informed her bandmates.

"you used to be a respectable woman." yves judged her.

"slut!" added chaeyoung.

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @aerithykly @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer

[michverdun]

Growing Competition

Victor let out a slight groan as the growth surged through his frame, making him clearly the biggest competitor. God, was he glad he took that deal. Sure, the guy he got that pill from was clearly shady, but there was no way he was winning without it. It didn’t matter that he talked like he had heard some inside joke Victor wasn’t in on, or that he didn’t require any payment. All that mattered was that he was set to lose before he stepped foot on stage, and he needed something to change that.

The competitor right next to him was the frontrunner and had been for weeks leading up to the competition. He could just see the look on Mark's face as they were backstage, a dumb grin as he came over to talk to him. He was perfectly friendly, cracking stupid jokes before they went out on stage, but all it did was make Victor see red. This was obviously some odd display of power,a way to bring Victor off of his game. He was so sure of his win he didn’t even try to be competitive. Everyone knew he was getting the win, and that meant Victor would be pushed out of a spot in the Olympia once again.

Not this time, Victor thought to himself as he flexed. He felt the best he ever had on stage.His body was filled with monstrous mass, easily 100 pounds heavier than Martin with pure muscle. He let out a grunt as he felt a burning in his muscles once again, just like when he took that pill before getting on stage. His biceps surged, pecs reaching his chin and lats flaring out. He didn’t expect it to last this long, and the guy didn’t say a word about multiple growth spurts, but he could  Forget about just qualifying, he could win Mr. Olympia with this physique!

He tried to keep his cool as he kept flexing, but most of his concentration went to his stuffed posers. The shady guy didn’t say shit about his dick growing, but he knew it had to be twice as long and maybe twice as thick. His balls, too, swelled with as much fervor as his muscles, maybe even more as they got to work flooding his system with testosterone. He was just so fucking HORNY. Every part of his mind was lost in thinking about tearing his posers off and stroking his beastly cock for the world. The only thing stopping him was the looming threat of disqualification.

Lost in thought, Victor moved to the next pose, and his hands moved to unsubtly grab at his bulge. It wasn’t even a conscious action for him, he just had to know how big he had gotten. He let out an unintentional moan, and then a warm tingle spread throughout his body again.

Before Victor could even react, he felt his pecs burst out with pure brawn, the already impressive mounds of beef visibly swelling out with new striated mass. He started to panic, it wasn’t supposed to have him keep growing this much! He kept going through the required poses as his thighs pushed away from each other, each gaining dozens of pounds. Fuck, forget thigh gap, he could feel his caves brush against each other. He kept his cool just enough to hit his double biceps pose once again, feeling his bicep press against his fist, and fight his arms and shoulder for space, as his frenzied second growth spurt came to its end:

Yeah. he had this one in the bag.

He was incomparable.There never was, and never would be a man with his kind of mass. Mark looked emaciated against all of Victor’s swollen bulk, each muscle stretching his skin to its limit. Victor’s pecs pressed against his chin, to the point where he could see them in the bottom of his vision without looking down. He could feel the enormity of his body, of just how much muscle there was on him now. He was a freak, a grotesque muscle god so over pumped that onlookers could barely comprehend what they were seeing. 

He let out a moan as he saw the faces of shock in the audience. God, it felt good. He could feel his posers strain with the titanic bulge it contained, but he knew it would hold. And if it didn’t? He could just paint the entire fucking crowd with the amount of cum these balls would produce, and that would be a win in his book anyway. All there was to do now was show off a little more and finally get the recognition he deserved–

Wait.

What was that moan just then? That wasn’t him.

Victor couldn’t turn his head, but still he could see the beginnings of growing spray-tanned muscle out of the corner of his eye. Muscle that wasn’t his. He heard Mark yell out in shock as the same growth that had overtaken Victor earlier now worked on a different man.

That slimy fucking drug dealer! He must’ve had extra pills to give to other guys, and of fucking course he had to give it to his rival! Victor pretended he didn’t notice and hoped that his growth was a fluke. Maybe that second growth spurt was special to him, and maybe that extra moaning he was hearing wasn’t from Mark still growing– aw dammit!

That hope vanished. Victor stayed composed as they were dismissed off stage for the judges to deliberate, but deep down he felt crushed. His one big shot of making it, of making a name for himself, was about to be ripped away.

He tried to figure out how to maneuver all of his new mass off stage. Mark lumbered over to him and gave him the closest approximation of a hug the man could muster. His arms clumsily tried to wrap around the other man, but he was only able to touch Victors lats. It looked more like he was just pressing himself up against Victor, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

“Bro, you’re fucking massive.” Mark said with awe and an obvious lust. 

Victor could see an earnest spark in his eyes, with that same dumb grin on his face that he had backstage. He wasn't lying, Mark really was enamored with his size. In that moment, a thought crossed Victor’s mind: maybe all of that talk backstage wasn’t Mark being cocky. Maybe he was actually trying to be nice.

As Victor looked at Mark’s impossible bulk, his head nestled in-between traps and pecs just like his own, he had another thought: goddamn he was so fucking hot. He had the smallest hints of that feeling as he watched the man pump up backstage, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially when Mark turned around. Those massive glutes might be the only thing that could take Victor’s massive cock. It’d be a perfect fit.

As the two lumbered off stage, Victor had a new goal.  Fuck the competition, he needed to figure out where Mark was staying that night. Pumping a few dozen loads into that perfect muscle ass would be better than any win he could ever get.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 4)

Summary: The iron cage has slammed shut and you will never leave it.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, humiliation, smut (finally :D), dubious consent

Word count: 2601

Finally, after a while, I was able to finish part 4. Perhaps I will write part 5 with the daemon prince, but I need some time for it. Updated the images (what I love about Tumblr is that you reblog the old version of the post, but by going to the original you can see the new version, it's very convenient). Specifically re-read The Hammer of Olympia for this one. I hope you enjoy it, it was a lot of fun to write.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

You still remember the first time Perturabo kicked you out because you mentioned Dorn. For two weeks he did not meet with you and did not have a heart-to-heart talk, moving away as far as possible. You thought that the primarch would do the same now, but the very next day he summoned you to his chambers.

You felt awkward for the first hour, but gradually relaxed. But still wondered why the Iron Lord behaved so strangely in the baths. Of course Perturabo was hard pressed by his responsibilities, but his sudden rage was unusual. You haven't done or said anything wrong.

Maybe he changed his mind about you? He realized that he became attached to you when a primarch should not have weaknesses. Does he see you as more than a mortal friend? Does he think of you as a sister or... something more?

These thoughts made you blush, and you hid your face in the book while Perturabo worked on the drawings. No, this is unthinkable. Of course, you knew that the primarchs had families on their planets. Parents, adoptive siblings and friends. But could they have romantic feelings for mortals?

And did you want to become his lover?

You could barely restrain yourself from jumping out of your chair and rushing around the room due to the abundance of thoughts. Feeling a strange sensation, you raised your head and with a gasp saw the attentive gaze of the primarch. You swore he could hear your heartbeat.

“Very exciting poems” - you tried to justify yourself by telling half-truths. You really liked these verses and it would be better if the lord did not know your thoughts. - “I never thought that I would love Olympic poetry about love so much.”

The primarch continued to glare at you and you shifted nervously in your chair. Did you say something bad? Since Perturabo called you, it means he is not offended or angry. But why does every minute with him last like an hour? Why is the room so hot, and the mere sight of a man makes you tremble?

“You can call me Bo.” - the primarch said quietly before turning to the table. - “During this time, I became attached to you almost like a sister. So why not make our communication even more... close.”

You smiled softly, accepting such a wonderful offer with all your gratitude. Your heart was happy. Enough time had passed to experience grief and yet you missed your parents and brothers. It was nice to feel part of the family again. Even if it is so unusual.

You involuntarily rolled your shoulders, throwing off the recent strange hot sensations. It’s as if you felt someone else’s emotions and desires that are unusual for you. But as always, you tried to brush aside the annoying thoughts and continue living in your “dome.”

***

You continued to live carefree, not knowing the sorrows of mere mortals, from time to time forgetting about the monstrous actions of the primarch. He was terrible in anger and did not value people, regarding them only as a piece of meat. He despised the weakest sons, “covered with rust” and unworthy to bear the title of Iron Warriors. He pumped out all the resources from the planets that came his way.

He had told you about his deeds before, but only the tiniest bits. Enough to frighten you and force you to obey him in everything. But you spent much more time talking about more abstract topics. Beautiful and creative. But Fulgrim's betrayal and journey into the Eye of Terror took their toll.

Now the primarch began to pour out his soul to you more and more often, sharing the terrifying methods of the art of war and enslavement. He spoke about the crimes of other legions and the warp space that you recently visited. Perturabo didn't seem to care what you thought about what was happening in the galaxies. You are just an ordinary mortal girl who will not survive in this world without him.

But you were truly frightened when the iron lord told you about the betrayal of Horus, the demons of the warp, the World Eaters and the daemon prince Angron, with whom Inron Warriors would go to their greatest battle. Siege of Terra. The man saw the horror you were in, watched as tears flowed down your cheeks and how awareness gradually came.

“I understand how difficult it is to find out all this. But nothing can be done. The False Emperor must be overthrown, and we will rule the Imperium as we deserve.” - the primarch, grinning darkly, stroked your head. - “I promised to take care of you. And I will continue to cherish you. Nobody cares about you except me. You would have become a slave or fodder for fuel in the hands of my brothers or continuing to live under my father's rule. Without me, you are a mere mortal girl, one of trillions. You are nobody. Nothing."

The man’s words hurt painfully, and yet you pressed closer to him. Thoughts swirled in my head. Your home world was far from the Solar System and yet your life was quite acceptable. You had a loving family, you did not live in poverty, and working as a chronicler was your long-time dream. Rogal Dorn brought your world into harmony, improving life on the planet and you were glad to become part of the Imperium.

But now it was just a dream. A deception. No, the primarch could not lie to you. The Imperium is rotten and sooner or later an unenviable fate would await you. The world was full of dangers and you could not resist these horrors. You would have been torn to pieces, gutted and eaten alive long ago if it weren't for Perturabo. He saved you. If he didn’t need new personal slaves, if you weren’t noticed, then you would... you would...

“Bo,” you whispered chokedly, swallowing tears and trying to calm your breathing. Fragile fingers squeezed the iron lord's tunic with force. - "I'm scared."

The man stopped stroking and you held your breath until you felt the touch of fingers on your chin. The primarch gently lifted your head, forcing you to look straight into your eyes. You could only gasp in horror and the feeling of safety next to Perturabo.

“You mortals do not obey me. You don't know what's good for you. There is no peace and kindness in this world. Only violence.” - your lips trembled and you let out a strangled squeak, feeling the grip on your face intensify. Almost possessively, the man held you close to him, never breaking eye contact. - “You promised that you wouldn’t leave me. So continue to listen to me. Love me and I will build a perfect world for you.”

You cannot stand the excess of emotions and, sobbing, bury your face in the primarch’s chest. Some part of you knew he was fooling himself. He wants to destroy and recreate everything anew just for himself. And you were part of this vast plan, a chaotic and terrifying dream, recreated from the darkest feelings of a primarch.

But the world around you was disgustingly cruel and merciless. You won’t be able to take a single step, the monsters will immediately destroy your body and mind. You didn't have anyone. No family, no friends. There are no enemies left, and the strangers have disappeared. There was no human warmth around you and you didn’t notice how you were left alone in an iron cage. Only Bo was with you. You only had him.

And if Terra must fall for the Iron Lord to be happy, then so be it.

***

He lost. The opportunity to rise was taken away from him. He was deprived of his greatest triumph. The Solar War ended in victory only thanks to Perturabo. He alone bore on his shoulders the responsibility for the entire success of the traitors while the rest of the legions indulged in senseless violence and debauchery.

But the worst thing was that Horus did not allow him to storm the Imperial Palace. He was not allowed Dorn's creation to be destroyed. He was not allowed his once beloved father to laugh in the face, who preferred another son to him. The warrior turned out to be a slave of the Chaos Gods, having lost his power and strength. And his brothers would not have been able to contribute to the war if not for the Iron Lord.

He's so tired of it. Complete disappointment. Retreating to Mars, Perturabo continued to oversee the ongoing Siege of Terra. Rage and resentment overwhelmed him and he destroyed everything that came in his way. He did not spare his creations, nor his slaves, nor his sons. He was humiliated. Again.

He hated them all. And the Emperor, and the loyalist brothers and traitors. They all mocked him. No, that will not do. The Warmaster may win this war, but he won't be celebrating for long. Perturabo will not let them rest on his laurels, oh no. He will rise above them all. The Primarch was humanity's greatest creation, but that was not enough. He needed more strength, more power. He will become a deadly deity who will crush everything in his path. All galaxies will obey him. Everyone will fear and respect him.

He will rule over everyone. And with him his Legion. And with him...

The man stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath and slowly lowering the hammer. Containing his emotions, he slowly walked towards her chambers. How long had he been trying to drown out his feelings, to deceive himself? How long and unsuccessfully have he tried to suppress this desire?

She was a fragile mortal, unworthy of his attention. But she had been a part of his life since his childhood. Crafty and smart, so kind and beautiful. She was weak, but so pleasant and sweet to the taste. Only she was allowed to see his soul hidden behind the iron. He told himself that he almost loved her like the Emperor... No, he loved her much more than his father. And the whole world.

The primarch slowly opens the door and sees you cowering next to the bed, trembling in horror. Of course, you now know about what is happening in the world and what sacrifices Perturabo makes to make your life enjoyable. Besides, you probably heard him raging with anger. Well, now you just have to calm him down.

“Bo?” - your voice trembles with surprise and you almost sigh with relief. You rise to your feet, but you can’t even take a step from the tension. - “Is it over? I-I heard how angry you were. Are you-”

“Take off.”

It's that simple. No confessions of feelings, no long conversations. The primarch did not want to wait any longer. He let you close enough to him. Why use unnecessary words when you can strengthen your connection in such a primitive but intriguing way? You freeze and open your mouth in surprise. Hands tug at the dress, unable to remove the fabric stuck to the body.

The primarch notices a blush on your cheeks. Embarrassment is an unnecessary quality, but he likes to see you in this state. It's quite charming. But he doesn't want to waste another minute. With sharp steps, the man approaches you and with one hand, forcefully tears your dress, exposing your body. You scream and try to cover yourself, but Perturabo grabs your hands, not letting you.

The man swallows, looking at your perfect forms. On your femininity. This is an ordinary human body, nothing special. He had seen naked people more than once, and females too. But you aroused him. The Emperor removed such base desires from the Astartes, but the Primarchs were a different matter. They experienced a greater range of emotions than mere mortals. They knew and saw more. But the war for humanity and service for the Emperor did not give them the opportunity to experience carnal pleasures. To become attached to mortals in a different way.

But now Perturabo no longer serves anyone but himself. And he could do whatever he wanted. With these thoughts, the man begins to touch you, no, caress you. That's what it's called. His hands on your shoulders and waist. Touching your lips, kissing your breasts and stomach. Listening to your breathing. Lower and lower until it reaches your thighs. Primarchs grew up in flasks; they were not born naturally between their mother's legs. And you... you would have been a wonderful mother to his real sons.

The man throws you on the bed and takes off his clothes. It’s good that he took off his armor first. He couldn't stand waiting that long. The primarch climbs on top of you and is displeased to see the fear in your eyes. Because of the difference in height? Women can endure even more than that, and sharing the bed with a primarch should be the greatest honor. Especially with him.

Or is it because of the blood of slaves and sons that got on his face? Still fresh, it dripped onto your body and you shuddered every time. In truth, he doesn't care. Now you are afraid, but soon you will dissolve in him and thank him for this.

Perturabo abruptly enters you, tearing you apart and looking with ecstasy at how your face stretches out in pain. He feels your blood and cannot wonder if he is your first or if your tender body is simply not intended for a primarch. Even if it's not meant to be, you have to accept it.

“Be quiet. Control yourself. I don't want to hear your screams. I don’t want to see you hurt.” - He wants it in some way. Make you suffer for what you did with him. The man moves his hips and you bite your lip. - “I just want to hear your moans. You have to beg me for it.”

The Iron Lord continues to slowly fill you, peering into your face until he notices dramatic changes. How your mouth opens slightly and your eyes close from the rush of feelings.

“Bo, I”

"You were right. I crave love. I want love. And you have to give it to me, you have to.” - the primarch accelerates, not allowing you to get a word in. “They underestimate me, but it only makes things worse for them. I am the grandest, sister. I am superior to everyone in this world. I'm not a boy, I'm a man. And now you see it. You see it.”

Perturabo leans down with difficulty and begins to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys. He remembers the sound of crunching, he remembers blood and dead eyes. It wasn't you. It was a decrepit old woman who called herself you and dared to condemn him. Daring to mock him. And you, crying with pleasure, know your place. So continue to remain at his feet and he will show you a perfect world.

The man groans and pronounces your names, continuing to whisper about his grievances and shout about imminent divinity. Until he finally fills you and sinks onto the bed with a sigh. Burying your small figure with his massive body. Completely unaware of your tears and misunderstanding in your eyes. How a drop of love mixes with true horror.

But if he saw it, it wouldn't change anything. You belonged to him. You were his and only his. The iron cage was finally closed. And now the bird will sing only to him.

[kit-williams]

Perturabo & Penelope Drabbles

Collection of random ass plotpoints that will eventually be made into proper fics (also remember ya'll if you wanna be on my regular non-husbandry tag list please ask me)

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Non tag list people but people who I want to see this @the-raven-lady @remembrancer-of-heresy

So how this goes will be

A one line premise

the blurb

Pertrabo asks Fulgrim something (Pre Horus Heresy)

I realized something that Bo might had only casually thought of. He'd be going into their marriage knowing he would outlive her. She went into it and was fine probably musing she would be the first of many perhaps Perturabo was initially content but then asked Fulgrim about it suddenly seeing the sadness in his eyes... maybe getting such raw advice as to "treasure her. They live such short lives." or "Perhaps you'll marry again akin to how they might get another pet. It will never be the same as that first one... the one you're so madly in love with... maybe you'll marry again"

Penelope's reunion with Perturabo: Peaceful

Penelope's part Her hair was out of place as she bit her nails... she could hear his voice... telling her to stop biting them. The ship had been boarded... Castor was the Judas goat... eager to welcome mother home but be a beacon to let Bo know exactly where she was. Ajax was being ferried to the secondary safe zone. She didn't know what a demon was... but she was trembling and there would be no Bo to comfort her in his arms just tucking her under his chin and making her feel like she is the most precious thing in the galaxy. She knew his footsteps... the room was dim as she took a final drink of wine to calm her nerves. The Automata outside were quiet... of course they wouldn't shoot their maker. She turned and looked up at the doors... before having to look down and only seeing a man a head taller then her with the most striking blue eyes... and cornrows of wires- "B-Bo?" Perturabo's part He might as well utilize his lesser used powers... he hardly cared about the shapeshifting and how he looked. But the way she looked at him and flinched as his hands were finally able to cup her face as they should have been. To kiss her as she deserved! To feel her form press up against his in a way that he only held fleeting desires for... the sensation of her wrapping her legs around his waist. His nose pressing into the skin of her neck as he had memorized this delicate smell ten thousand years prior... he always told her he would be okay with her death but he was a filthy liar... he had lied to himself and to her. He wasn't ready to lose her when he did... and no he wouldn't ever have to as now the Iron Mother would be /eternal/

A part just right after the part above and them having passionate sex this is some conversation they had just laying in the afterglow

"She was right Bo." She finally said with her head on his chest... it was quiet. It disturbed her and as if he read her mind she could hear the beating of his hearts again. "I know. I knew after I killed her." He says softly just drawing on her back, "I also realized you would have stopped me if you were there." He says staring at the ceiling he designed, every piece in their bedroom he designed and made. "I blamed myself. I had called you to follow me to Olympia. Even if you couldn't stop me from doing what I did you would have stopped me from being a monster." "What do you look like now?" He held her tightly shaking his head how many baselines looked at him in horror... how many tried to kill themselves. "No." He said in a tone to not question him. How easy for him to slip back into being a husband.

@bispecsual's character study/read of Castor

Castor is such a sad dude, he wanted to be at her side, wanted the glory of protecting his legion mother for so so long and he never got the chance, now she’s back and she hasn’t changed at all. It’s been no time at all to her, the universe hasn’t had a chance to break dear sweet Penelope who was always so kind to them all. He wants that love again, he wants her to smile, he wants to be her son again. His eyes would flash to that warm brown she remembers from uncountable lifetimes ago she’s now learning, just like his father he’s trying to look how she remembers him. “Aren’t you proud of me, mother?” He smiles with the giddiness of a little boy showing off a trophy he won, his teeth are too sharp, there’s blood smeared on his armor and she tries so desperately to remember the fresh-faced neophyte who positively beamed at her from his scout battalion. “I’ve risen to the rank of warsmith! Isn’t that grand?” He wants to grab her hands, wants to press them to his face and feel softness for the first time in so long. Father had always been selfish with his wife’s touch, glaring at any of their sons he stepped a bit too close to the warm maternal hearth fire of the Iron Warriors Legion. Some of his older brothers (the apothecaries) even got to touch her belly when she was pregnant, they said it was quite odd feeling Ajax kick from inside her womb but he still had wanted to experience it. She was back now, and so was their littlest brother, the heir of Olympia, little Ajax. He could finally have everything he wanted. He didn’t even notice the conflicted horror on Penelope’s face as she stared up at him. Oh sweet boy what had her absence done to you?

Penelope's reunion with Perturabo: Violent

Angsty ass idea: Penelope decides to fight and over the ship’s vox she addresses the 5000 men with her and asks them to help defend the ship with her. She may not have been a fan of fighting but she’s still the Iron Mother, it’s still her duty to defend her family. “I would never ask that you die for me, my sons. But today I will ask you to die WITH me if necessary.” Those on the bridge salute her. As if they’d ever refuse a call to arms from their legion mother But of course... How could she win against a Primarch? Much less against a Demon Primarch... She held Ajax tightly as it was getting quiet. Tears fell as she sat on the command throne just waiting. Castor came in looking like a kicked dog. Her sons were dead or captured but most likely dead given who her husband was. She tries her best to be strong... but she fails as tears roll down her cheeks. "Mother..." Castor says softly as others enter the room as bolters are holstered. She looks up at the impassive face looking down at her, "So now what." She says trying to sound fierce and defiant but it comes out broken and small. "You come home. Lest you want /all/ your sons dead." Perturabo says with blood... most likely Antioch's smeared on his weapon. He did not like to twist her arm... but he knew sometimes it was for her best... sometimes he had to manipulate her into behaving. She opens her mouth to say something before he murmurs, "No. I will not hurt our son." Again reading her mind as she stands up holding Ajax protectively as her attendants come back closer. She feels Perturabo pick her up as that move cements that it is over... she is back in his grasp. She sniffles as she feels him press kisses into the side of her head as she is carried to the Iron Blood. The Iron Amaranth is draped in red as she weeps for her sons as she is carried away as the warmth of her ship is replaced with such a cold cruelty of the Blood... she tried to fight the Lord of Iron and she broke first.

The Iron Mother with Perturabo receiving an unusual visitor

She looked down at the visitor ... hardly any of her husband's newer sons came to visit her. He did not look like a typical Iron Warrior... not as stocky. "Have you come to see the mother of Iron?" "Yes." His voice said. "I am a curiosity." She spoke with a warmth that all of her sons deserved even if these new ones frightened her. But it is why he kept her locked away in this seemingly endless place with what feels like a real sun... real weather... just it feels like a slice of Olympia. "You are. Castor talks of you fondly." He says and he watches her warm smile spread over her lips as she stands up and walks closer. She had begged and pleaded for her guards lives eventually promising to eventually bear Perturabo another child. "He is fond of me. What is your name?" She asks looking up at him. "I am Honsu." "Ah the half breed." She says before motioning for him to kneel as she looks over him. Touching his chin looking into his eyes before she hugs him and places a kiss on his temple. "A half breed you might be but like all my sons you get all of my affection."

Penelope confronts Pertruabo

I wrote enough that it would be its own short stand alone blurb HOWEVER I have a timeline for the Pertrabo and Penelope plot and really do not want to post stuff super out of order

Penelope realizing she's not dealing with the same Perturabo (No dialogue because it hasn't been planned yet)

She said too much... Penelope pales... She let out all her frustrations and sadness out at this thing that was in front of her far too small to be her husband yet he was! Her makeup ruined from the hot tears that ran down her cheeks as she crossed a line she looks down trying to figure out how to apologize but she wasn't sorry for everything she said just she knew she went too far. Her head snaps up when she feels his hand move her chin up... his face unreadable and a part of her was naturally scared. She wasn't ready for the soft kiss on her forehead and the gentle smile from him as she listened to him... validate her concerns and feelings... pointing out where she let her emotions get the better of her and misremembering things but recognizing her feelings in the moment? Penelope looked up at her husband confused as this was not the reaction she was expecting... the confusion leaves and is replaced as he whispers in her ear what he is going to do to her for her little outburst as she was thoughtless with her words... his tongue tracing her ear as he allows the extra bass in his voice, due to his ascension, to run down her spine. He could smell the immediate effect he was having on her body. And he couldn't resist as their hands gripped each other tightly and pulled at clothing that was in the way.

Lewd Idea: Penelope is a size queen; blame really only having a Primarch as a sexual partner for like a decade. And Perturabo being absolutely N O R M A L about his wife

Ajax the half primarch interacting with his demonic father

Ajax knew this presence! He knew it because it loved him! His formless body floated and rolled near the large warp presence as he popped and made his noises! Why wasn't he up? Was it like when mama was looking away? He needed this... he could feel mama holding him tightly... he missed papa holding him too... it has been so long since he was held by them both. Oh! He knew what do! He SCREAMED "PAPA" Shapeless eyes that burnt like fire formed and dissipated as they looked at the tiny floating "bundle" of wool. Both formless and shapeless... but they knew each other. 'pop' 'pop' 'pop' the little cloud made as tiny tethers tried to make their connections

Perturabo and Penelope being catastrophically in love with each other

there are moments like that for them of... having to get use to the new "normal" The fact that you can only interact with your husband through what you eventually learn is basically a metal puppet because if you see what he actually looks like now you might go insane Perty: I’m kinda a psychic eldritch being now Nelly: so does that mean you're no longer interested in me- Perty: no no I love you still Nelly: wasn't finished... are you no longer interest in sex dear? Bo: I've been half mast this entire conversation Nelly: Perfect or Perty: I’m kinda a psychic eldritch being now Nelly: figure it tf out I want your dick Perty: WELL WHEN YOU PUT IT THAT WAY

Alternative reunion with Perturabo if she had gone to Roboute

Penelope had resigned herself already... Her stepsons were dying. Roboute and Ajax back on Macragge waiting for the Iron Warriors... Of course they hid her away. Of course, Bo would find her... She could feel his presence bearing down on her like a breeze behind her eyes... The taste of ozone on her tongue. She already dismissed the handmaidens and just waited by the window... Roboute had lied about his death it seems... Penelope closed her eyes at the sound of sickening crushing noises outside the door. She was certain he was going to kill her for her infidelity. She looked to the poison unopened nearby as she knew it was foolish for her to let herself be found alive but... She was a foolish and emotional woman... She wanted to see her Bo. "Blue doesn't look good on you mother." Castor says entering the room, "Don't you have anything more suitable?" Penelope smiled sadly, her face having more wrinkles and her hair with more streaks of grey, "Unfortunately no. You all weren't supposed to be here so I did not bring anything..." "Father is eager to see you." "To punish me?" She asks softly. "No," Perturabo's voice distorted by his vox forces her attention to him, "To bring you home. Just like those Epics you enjoyed reading."

Perturabo has an unexpected visitor

There was something else on his planet. He groused as he couldn't feel which pesky brother was trying to seek his aid without being seen. He doubts it was Mortarion given how they had fought recently... He had laid the rules that Fulgrim was not allowed... Angron was to be redirected... Magnus was allowed only to a few selected places keeping him far from where Penelope and Ajax were being kept... Lorgar was trapped... Perturabo frowned as he started to pluck strands of reality like a spider feeling its web for prey. He frowns as nothing comes up and yet the feeling remains... He goes to pluck the golden thread gently to respond to Ajax's near constant plucking of their warp bond. His fingers slip through it... His entire consciousness looks down at to where the tiny bundle of golden wool should be at the other end of the bond and all he can see is blackness and feathers. Perturabo's hearts seize... Corvus was in his domain... And Corvus was where his wife was! The grim thought that danced across his mind as he rushed down was that at least Corvus wouldn't make her suffer unlike Konrad... But still he moved with a dying hope that she would still be there even if Ajax wasn't....

Penelope witnessing his death (another she went to Roboute timeline)((the image is the inspiration))

She looked back... She couldn't stop herself knowing there was a monster right there but she couldn't stop her mouth from forming the word for husband. It was her fault Macragge was being invaded... And it was her fault that flaming sword was stabbed deep into his chest. And all she could do was let out that dying shriek for him as his eyes never wavered from her own and she even through tears kept her eyes on him... It was her fault... And she would have to live with that...

Demon Perturabo being normal about his wife, the march of time, and totally not making anything profane for her

His mouth moved over each blemish of her skin being reminded how she got each one and where there was a fragment of his being the whole was deep in his workshop working... Flesh crafting... Because why should death come for Nelly? Why should he be /okay/ with only having her for a few centuries and even then her youthfulness will be gone after that first century... Why should he be okay with it? He never liked her being okay with being his "first" wife seemingly accepting the fact that she wouldn't be his only just accepting that her memory would fade in time... His tongue pushes into her mouth as she melts to his touch just as the flesh in his hands melts under his own... Fabius demanded a high price for his knowledge but it would be worth it. Each small scar was marked upon the skin...Flesh pulled to mimic Her stretch marks ... Even the odd asymmetry that she had on her face... The fact that her fingers on her left hand were millimeters longer then her right... Whimpers in his ear... Unlike from the body underneath his hands... He nuzzled the empty flesh body in his hands all just missing a soul to start it up. He wouldn't use it just yet... But in time she would have a form fitting for the wife of a Primarch... And he wouldn't have to worry about her falling to his corruption either... The high pitched sigh in his ear tells him she climaxed as his eyes return to the enclosure... He could feel the "rain" against him as they sat under a tree just enjoying a moment to themselves

Perturabo being a little evil (some of you might know this as being the gore sex idea...)

He rounds the corner looking at the body on the floor wailing... it shouldn't be awake or alive really. He could see the bone growth of the wraithbone construct having grown even when it should have been suppressed. He sends a son to go check on Penelope but as far as he can tell she is asleep and yet he can feel a shard of her soul in this imperfect body. "B- B- Bo." She struggles to say as her eyes are cloudy for Penelope it was a nightmare... hair and teeth falling out... pain... darkness... elements of the nightmares she was so use to having since coming here... she weeps wanting her husband to save her! To hold her while she sleeps... to feel... "Shhh I am here Nelly." His voice rumbles in her ear as her fingers grip his armor so tightly that the flesh rips free of the muscle. He should kill it and return the shard of her soul to her body... but his mask peels away as his blackened tongue licks her bottom lip as he closes the space between them... just a few kisses...

Penelope having a sensory overload in her new body

Penelope suddenly waking up in a body that feels too big for her... She's suddenly stronger.... Faster... Her mind sharper and she's scared because she went from feeling weakness in her joints and having to slow down to suddenly being in her prime again again thank you @bispecsual for the blurb Even better than her prime even. It would be overwhelming. Everything is too loud, too bright, too sharp. Al this information pouring into her mind at a speed she isn’t used to. Why can she hear Ajax’s little heartbeat rooms away? Why can she see the microabrasions on the cold steel walls? Why oh why can she feel this suffocating PRESSURE like a storm has been stuffed in the room with her? The choking, stifling, smell of ozone and the sensation of immense barometric pressure. She feels a touch against her cheek, so familiar but too sharp, too rough, on this skin that feels the same but not. She knows those calluses, she knows that warmth but instead of comfort it feels like sandpaper and glass right now. She hasn’t flinched away from her husband since she was a servant, but she can’t help it now. She doesn’t mean it. She tries to tell him that but her voice catches in her throat. Is it her throat? It doesn’t feel like it’s ever been used before. It’ll pass, she’s told. What will pass? What has he done? WHAT DID HE DO TO HER? My part again Perturabo's voice is soft... So soft as she struggles to control her body... She wails loudly as everything feels wrong and feels helpless and unable to control her body. Why do her limbs so heavy? She looks up at Perturabo trying to soothe her wiping away her tears all with a patient smile on his face After some time... Ajax looks at her with the same blue eyes as his father... A look on his face as if he /knew/ what his father had been planning... But Nelly would never accuse her son of that... No she just was feeling miserable and scared as she struggled to use her body again. She wasn't allowed back into her "home" until she could walk and talk properly again meaning she had to deal with what she was calling dealing with him Raw. It made her heart race and her feel like she was going to throw up and yet she could feel Ajax... That soft and fluffy feeling she always had with her son just amplified. She flinched at the sudden heaviness before the doors opened up to reveal the demon Primarch. She was upset at Perturabo but she had to wait to be able to voice it again... She was struggling to talk still and not bite her tongue off...

And Finally... another in the timeline of Penelope goes to Roboute first but of her dealing with the Inquisition

Pain blossomed through her cheek as she glared at the Lord Inquisitor who had dared backhanded her. If there was one thing she had learned being Perturabo's wife... it was /spite/ not that she didn't have much of it before becoming his wife but she learned how to weaponize it. The room was in an intense stalemate of guns and bolters and weapons all pointed, rifle red dots danced across his brow from outside the large windows. She exhaled from her nose like a grox bull as she turned back to face him; religious fanatics /all/ of them... but he especially so... "Was that that best you could do? I've had head serf mistresses beat me harder than that slap..." Penelope says ignoring the still red hot pain in her cheek. Such a passionate man stood in front of her as she goaded his anger. Her hand fiddling with the iron necklace... her finger pushing the hidden button on the Legion emblem on the necklace. A barrel pushed to her forehead, "Whatever trick you think you could pull isn't going to work. I don't see why the Regent bothered inviting /you/ in... a whore to a traitor." "Not a whore... a wife." Penelope says softly as if she is gently chiding one of her handmaidens, she is pleased that he allowed Ajax to be removed from the room by her handmaids. "Tell me Lord Inquisitor what do you know of my husband? Do you know how wonderfully brilliant he is-" She pauses inhaling remembering..., "How brilliant he was? How skilled he was inventing and crafting? He made the entirety of the Iron Amaranthos... all of her designs was his doing. So tell me... what do you know of him?" Penelope just smiles as he glares at her. "Tell me... do you feel like you have reflexes faster than a Primarch?" "What-" Her Iron Circle teleported in... two right next to her enveloping her within the personal shields of the automata. The Inquisitor was disarmed and two swords a hairs width away from his neck rested. Her Iron Circle was made to guarantee her survival... her sons were there to guarantee that Ajax could survive. "Aren't they beautiful?" She gestures to the automata. Iron Gladiolus flowers decorate the automata as they were far more visually appealing then his personal Iron Circle, "He hand made these." Her fingers brush along the delicate looking metal work, "Made to be exactly like his personal Iron Circle... made to keep up with a Primarch and be his honor guard. I told him they were overkill... it was far too much to give me five thousand of his sons and an Iron Circle of my own... much less four of them." Penelope's gaze dims slightly lost in the memory, "He told me four was only right since I was legion mother of the fourth legion." Sadness warbles in her voice but it hardens back as she looks at him leaning against Odysseys as Ares and Helios held the swords to his throat as Zeus took his place beside her.  /Why bother naming them?/ Perturabo said trying to keep the dismissive tone in his voice away. /Because you made them and everything you make gets some sort of a name/ "So Lord Inquisitor... Do you think your  reflexes are better than a Primarchs?" Penelope cooed pressing a kiss against the metal

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Mary Sativa - The Lovers' Crusade - Olympia Press - 1971

[moonmaiden1996]

YOU WANT MORE??? OKKKKKKK DIONYSUS AND READER ALMOST GETTING CAUGHT WHILE HAVING FUN IN OLYMPIA???? READER HAVING TO PUT HER HAND OVER HIS MOUTH TO SHUT HIM UP BECAUSE HE MAKES SO MUCCH NOISE???? omg he'd be SO LOUD and the reader would literally have to shut him up in more ways than one, but he LOVES itttt 🥵🥵🥵🥵

YESSSSS we all know Dionysius has a exhibition thing going on...especially after seeing his introduction scene at the party. Convince me he doesn't.

This request just called to me and I had to get it done tonight....but don't stop sending requests!!!! Dionysus doesn't get the love he deserves!

Olympus was intoxicating, especially when you were with him. The gleaming marble halls and the warm glow of eternal sunlight felt worlds away as Dionysius pressed you against a cool stone pillar, his hands possessively exploring the curves of your body. It was dangerous—forbidden, even—to be this reckless in the heart of the gods’ domain, but the thrill of it only made you want him more.

“Dionysius,” you breathed, trying to sound scolding, though your voice lacked any real conviction. His lips trailed down your neck, hot and needy, his breath heavy against your skin, igniting a fire deep within you.

“Let them see,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and sultry, a sinful grin tugging at his lips. “Let them know.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile, but your breath hitched as his hands slipped beneath your dress, fingers skimming over your skin with a desperation that sent heat flooding through your core. He was relentless, pulling your body flush against his, his hips grinding into you with a ferocity that made your knees weak.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, running your fingers through his curls, pulling him closer, overwhelmed by the sensation of his body pressed against yours. The heat of his skin, the urgency of his touch—everything about this moment was intoxicating.

“And you love it,” he teased, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping lower. The way he teased you drove you crazy, each caress igniting your desire. You knew this was reckless—being so exposed in the very halls of Olympus where any god could walk by—but the danger only heightened the exhilaration.

His lips moved to your ear, and you felt a low, rumbling groan escape his throat—a sound so rich and primal that it vibrated against you, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re making it very hard for me to stay quiet.” his voice growled.

Your heart raced, excitement and fear intertwining in a heady mix. If anyone caught you like this—Zeus, Hera—it would be disastrous. You could almost picture Zeus’s fury, the thunderous reprimands echoing in the vast halls, but it was hard to care with Dionysius’s lips working their way down to your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with a fervor that made you ache for him.

And then he groaned—loudly—a sound so deep and needy that it echoed off the marble walls, resonating around you like a forbidden symphony.

You gasped, heart pounding. “Dio!” you whispered, eyes wide with panic. “Someone’s going to hear you!”

But his eyes—dark and glazed with desire—were completely unfazed by the threat. If anything, your fear of getting caught only seemed to fuel him more. He grinned, wicked and dangerous, and then kissed you harder, as if daring the gods themselves to intervene.

You frantically clamped your hand over his mouth. “Shh!” you hissed, your heart racing. The tension between you was electric, every beat of your heart vibrating through your body.

He groaned against your palm, his tongue flicking out mischievously to lick your skin, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, hungry and wild. The heat in your cheeks burned hotter as you fought to suppress a laugh, swatting his shoulder. But you knew this wouldn’t be enough. Dionysius was nothing if not loud, and if anyone walked by, they’d hear every single sultry sound escaping him.

An idea struck you.

Without another word, you reached down, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. Dionysius watched you with wide eyes, breath hitching, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation as you slipped out of them.

“What—?” he began, voice hoarse with desire.

Before he could finish, you balled up the delicate fabric and pressed it to his lips, pushing it into his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise, but then a deep, rumbling groan of pleasure vibrated against your palm as he accepted the gag. The sound was thick with desire, resonating in his throat, transforming your name into a muffled plea. His lips closed around your panties, eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief.

“If you can’t be quiet,” you whispered against his ear, “I’ll have to make sure you stay quiet.”

The effect was immediate. He shuddered beneath your touch, a muffled moan escaping as he savored the taste of you on his tongue, each sound vibrating through his body like an electric current. His need for you overwhelmed him, yet now it was silenced. You smiled at the sight of him—utterly at your mercy, eyes glazed with lust, barely able to hold himself together.

“Good boy,” you purred, running your fingers through his messy curls. His head fell back against the pillar, eyes closing as he let out another muffled groan. The sound of it—quieted, restrained—sent a wave of heat through you, igniting a deep ache in your core.

His hands found your hips again, pulling you closer as he pushed his body against yours, desperation clear in every movement. But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t protest, couldn’t moan without your permission. Every noise he made was swallowed by your panties, leaving him helpless and completely at your mercy as he sank deeper into you.

You rolled your hips against him, feeling the hard evidence of his desire. A wicked smile curved your lips. “You like that, don’t you?” you whispered, pressing even closer. “You like being quiet for me.”

He groaned again, the response muffled but urgent, the way his body tensed and the grip of his hands told you everything. He was loving every second of this.

His hips bucked forward, grinding into you with desperate urgency, and you gasped softly, your breath hitching at the friction. He was losing control, and you could feel it—the raw, untamed desire radiating from him as he fought to remain quiet.

But even with your makeshift gag, you knew you couldn’t let him make too much noise. You moved one hand from his curls down to his chest, teasing over his skin, tracing the faint outline of his muscles. His eyes fluttered open, glazed with need, as you leaned in to whisper against his ear, “If you don’t behave, I’ll leave you here like this. All worked up, with nowhere to go.”

His eyes widened at that, and you could feel the shudder of anticipation ripple through him. He shook his head frantically, another muffled sound of protest escaping as his hands tightened on your hips, trying to pull you closer. He was close—so close. You grinned, reveling in the power you held over him.

But then—footsteps.

Your heart stopped, and you froze, breath caught in your throat. Dionysius stilled too, eyes snapping open as the sound of footsteps grew closer, echoing down the marble halls of Olympus.

For a second, panic coursed through you and it was now your turn to groan at the sudden loss of him inside you. Carefully Dionysius tugged your tunic back into place before adjusting his own clothes, movements hurried but playful. He spit out your panties but instead of giving them back, he pocketed them, the fabric disappearing into his robes as he leaned in to steal a quick, teasing kiss. “I’ll keep these for later,” he whispered against your lips, ''be easier to finish what we started'' his voice still breathless.

You smacked his chest, eyes wide in disbelief, but there was no time to argue. The footsteps grew louder, and the two of you quickly ducked behind a column, disappearing into the shadows just as the figure appeared at the end of the hall.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, pressed against Dionysius’s side. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you shot him a quick glare, though your pulse raced from the thrill.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hissed quietly, face flushed as you imagined what could’ve happened if you had been caught.

Dionysius grinned, his eyes still dark with lust as he leaned down to whisper, “And you love it.”

He pulled you closer, his lips grazing your ear, and your body shivered at the intimacy of it all—the heat of his breath on your skin, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the knowledge that he was still carrying your panties as a souvenir.

The figure in the hall passed by without noticing, and as the footsteps faded into the distance, Dionysius gave your waist a playful squeeze. “I told you,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

His grin widened, and he leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time, savoring every second. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dionysius was trouble, yes, but gods, he was your kind of trouble.

Like. Comment. Request

[moodymisty]

Sleepy primarchs are best primarchs. If you are willing to mabey a sleepy angron fic,or a sleepy perturabo?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Sleepy Perturabo. Post tweet.

Relationships: Perturabo/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Perturabo isn’t as cunty as usual so, none really

Olympia is battered with rain today, you can hear as you wake up. It streaks down the glass of the windows, and you can hear the thunder crack outside.

It sounds wonderful.

Perturabo is still asleep, you notice when you roll into him. He’s sleeping on his stomach, massive arm bent to wrap around his head. Though he doesn’t remain asleep for long, as your movement near instantly rouses him.

The short chop of hair on the top of his head not affected by his cybernetic enhancements is disheveled and messy, as he looks at you with a sleepy expression.

He then looks over you to the window, and sees the pouring storm battering against it.

“We won’t be able to get anything done in this storm without double the effort,” He says, referencing a current project. His brow furrows and wrinkles become more prominent, as he wipes a hand over his still sleep-stricken face.

“I imagine anyone but your men would get washed away. Though it is funny imagining one of your Iron Warriors float away in 200 kilograms of ceramite.”

Perturabo looks at you with an expression that could be described as far from amused, before he sighs.

“Come here.”

You wiggle closer as he moves to lay on his side, and he throws and arm over you. Your knees touch his ribs as you curl them upward; He can see you smiling at him. He pulls your closer, wrapping his massive arm around you.

“I am not dignifying your attempt at humor with a response.”

That’s more of a response in and of itself, and you take pride in it pressed against his chest. You shift upward slightly so his chin rests on your head, and he silently allows it. It seems he has no plans to get up, and has decided to take the day to himself.

“Your commanders are going to wonder where you are,” You whisper, though you don’t mind he’s decided to stay.

“Then they can come find me, and I will send them away.”

You’d be amused to see that happen, as you shift against him. He tightens his arm around you, and you feel his fingers grip your night clothes. Content in the bubble of body heat he creates as the cold rain batters outside you close your eyes, and you feel Perturabo’s chin shift against your head as he falls back asleep.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Earth & Fire

Chapter X - Home

06/22/2024

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 4,533

Warnings: blood (ichor), wounds, a little more angst, fluff

Summary: Even though they made it back to the Underworld, Aidon's life still hangs in the balance.

A/N: All things end (to quote the man himself), and so does this story. This is really and truly the last chapter and I hand it to you with equal parts joy and sorrow. It feels great to finally be able to complete this story, after more than a year and almost 54,000 words in total, it feels like a real milestone. And yet it hurts to let these two go. They hold my heart, and I cannot believe their story ends here. At least for the time being... So, enjoy, I hope, while I will go to church tonight and praise my personal Jesus.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Once again, nothing but pitch black darkness surrounded her. Faintly, Anthea remembered a time when this would have at the very least alerted her, but after everything that had happened in the past weeks, it did not even cause her the slightest bit of unease anymore. Still, she could sense that something was off. Maybe it was the silence, the complete absence of any sound beside her own breathing and the dull thudding of her pulse. Or it was the cold, the worst kind one could imagine, the one that spoke louder than any words. It spoke of loneliness, of the vacancy in her bed, beside her nothing but empty space, like the void he had left in her heart. In the distance, she could make out a faint glimmer that slowly crept closer, a winding stream of golden liquid, then another, more and more rivulets trickling in from all sides, collecting and then rising around her, higher, higher, then higher still until her whole body was surrounded by it. Frantically she kicked her feet, desperately trying to keep her head above the surface, but the gold clung to her like lead, pulling her down with a might she would not be able to fight against much longer. Still all Anthea could feel was this eerie sense of calm—and hope. Not for survival. No. This was the end, she was sure of it. But it did not even matter. Not anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. And so she exhaled, letting go of the last bit of air that kept her alive, his name falling from her lips as her breath passed them. 

Aidon.

“Sh, my flower. You’re safe now.”

Rough fingers brushed along her temple and cheek, their touch so gentle she would have recognised it among a million different touches. 

“Father,” she whispered and there was a slight hitch in his voice as he answered, “Oh, thank the Fates.”

Suddenly her hand was gliding through the air, a prickling sensation against the back of it, and when she opened her eyes, she found it pressed against her father’s face, tears clouding the usually so vibrant blue of his own. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” he squeezed her hand, “I had heard rumours of a disastrous fight in Olympia. There was talk of Zeus himself being involved, his temple obliterated, burned to the ground, and I was fearing for the worst. I was already on my way here to check on you when Thanatos came to tell me what had happened.”

“Thanatos?” Why would he of all gods go looking for her father? Why did the God of Death know what had happened at Olympia? If not…No! No, it could not be. He was not…he could not…

“Aidon!” Anthea cried out, pushing the sheets aside and rising from her bed in the blink of an eye. Her father hastened to get up as well, sensing what was about to come as her head suddenly began to spin. Strong arms wrapped around her and kept her on her feet, and still she struggled to escape her father’s hold, determined to cross the room no matter how ludicrous of an endeavour it seemed to be. 

“Anthea, he’s fine,” Hephaestus tried to reason with her. But his words did not break through to her in her frenzied state. “Listen to me, Anthea. He’s fine. Aidon is fine.” Finally she realised what he was saying and stilled in his arms. Through a veil of tears she tried to make out if he was telling the truth and she was just about to believe his words when suddenly he hesitated. “Well, at least he will be.”

“What do you mean ‘he will be’? Is he fine or not?” Her fingers fisted the dark fabric of her father’s chiton, but he only sighed. “Tell me, father.”

“I’m afraid it is not that easy, my flower. He may be a god, but other than usual, his wounds refuse to close. Injuries brought about by another deity tend to do that. He has also lost a lot of ichor, but there is still hope. I heard they have already sent someone to fetch him a drink from the Phlegethon. It is said to heal even the nastiest injuries.”

Anthea eyes went wide. She knew about the Phlegethon, the mighty stream of fire that wound its way through the Underworld, leading directly into Tartarus. There it would heal the tortured souls, readying them to be tortured yet again. But its healing powers came at a cost. If Aidon drank from the Phlegethon, it would most likely heal him, but in doing so, it would also burn through his veins like a blazing firestorm, causing him even more pain than he had already endured because of her foolishness. If only—

“Father, I need to see him.”

“Anthea, they are doing everything they can for him already. There is really nothing—”

“But there is!” Hephaestus looked at her in confusion. Of course he did not understand. How could he? He had not been there, at Olympia. He had not seen the powers she had wielded. “I need you to trust me on this, father.”

It took him a moment, but then his eyes softened and he sighed in defeat.

“Go then. I take it you know where to find him.”

She nodded. “Will you still be here later?”

“Of course, my flower.”

Anthea had already slipped out of his grasp and turned towards the huge door that led onto the balcony when she halted and turned to face Hephaestus once again. 

A faint smile played on his lips and his eyes still spoke of the relief he must be feeling upon seeing her alive and unharmed. She knew that feeling all too well, and as for a brief moment the images of this mountain of a man, shackled and martyred, returned to her mind, she couldn’t help but run into his arms again. 

“I love you,” she whispered, as she felt the familiar warmth that had been her safe haven all her life.

“I love you too, my sweet child.” He pulled her a little closer, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Now go. Whatever you think it is you can do for Hades, do it. He nearly gave his life to keep the promise he made to me.”

Anthea pulled away as she felt her father’s arms loosen around her form and with another nod, she set off.

Soft rays of sunlight welcomed her outside, soaking her skin in an unexpected warmth, and it was only then that she realised she was trembling. Under any other circumstances, Anthea might have stopped and noticed how much the Underworld had changed since she had last been here, but right now there was no room for sunlight, or flowers, or meadows and forests in the far distance, right now, all that mattered was him and she could not get to the place where she expected to find him fast enough. 

As she had hoped, the windows to his bedchamber stood wide open, but the curtains had been drawn, the dark fabric dancing in the light breeze that played around her. With shaky hands she reached for them, pulling them aside just far enough to slip through and let them close behind her again. 

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the gloomy blue light that barely illuminated the room, but when they finally did, she immediately made out his unmoving form on the bed. She was astonished to find him alone. Had her father not said that they were doing everything they could for him? But who were they and where were they now? Did this mean there was nothing more they could do for him? Surely there must be something to help ease his anguish until whomever they had sent to fetch some water from the Phlegethon returned. 

Quickly she stepped closer. Anthea could not tell whether it was just the cold light that surrounded them or if he was indeed this pale. He had never been the tanned type, but now his skin had lost even the slightest touch of rose it had ever possessed. There was no colour left at all, not even in his usually shiny pink lips, that now lay dried and sallow amidst his dark beard. Hollowed cheeks made his prominent cheekbones look even sharper, the contrast doubled by the darkened skin around his sunken-in eyes. Somebody had removed his clothing and covered his body with nothing but a light sheet, and still his forehead was shimmering from the tiny beads of sweat that had formed there. If it was not for the almost imperceptible movement of his chest whenever he drew in a shallow breath, nothing would have hinted at the fact that he was still the King of the Dead and not one of them himself.

It was only when she sat down beside him and reached for his hand that she noticed the huge stain of golden liquid that had already formed above his stomach. The fabric was soaked in it, and as she slowly but steadily watched the spot grow bigger by the second, she could not help the tears from coming, however much she had sworn herself to stay strong for his sake. 

“Aidon, please, you need to hold on,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss his cheek, her voice breaking under the weight of the words she did not bear to say. Don’t leave me.

At least he was still warm, she thought as her lips found his skin, immediately hating herself for a thought like that. As if she could exist in a cosmos where this was not the case anymore. Even the idea was enough to drain the last bit of strength from her body, and she felt even more hot tears welling up in her eyes as she buried her face deep in the crook of his neck, as close as possible to the source of the beloved scent that rose from his body. His hand firmly pressed to her chest, every now and then, she could not help a soft sob from escaping her throat. Apart from that, it was silent, almost eerily so, even his breaths and heartbeat too shallow to be heard above her own. 

Anthea almost jumped out of her skin as out of nowhere, somebody chose to clear their throat somewhere behind her back. Her head shooting up from its resting place, she only then realised the soft, flickering shadows dancing on the walls. Warm tones of red, orange and yellow scared away the blue sheen that had covered them until now with ease. She was quick to turn, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks and eyes in a hurry. And even though her vision was still a bit blurry, her gaze found the kylix with the dancing flames immediately. It was enchanting to watch them sway and flicker, to listen to their whispered chant, calling her. They spoke of hope, and as her eyes gradually wandered up the intruders form, she was eager to find out who she had to thank for their kindness of bringing it here. Anthea did not want to, but there was nothing she could have done to prevent her mouth from falling open as she finally took in the face illuminated by the flames. Minthe’s face.

Unable to utter a single word, Anthea watched the distance between herself and the nymph shrink with every step she took towards the bed. She did not halt, her steps never once faltering until she stood right before her, not more than an arm’s length away. She did not even look at Anthea. Instead, Minthe’s eyes were glued to the flames, even as her arms moved away from her body and held out the precious remedy for Anthea to take it. 

“What…no!” Anthea stammered. “I need your help. I’ve never…I don’t know how—”

“You do.” Minthe still did not spare her a single look as she spoke, her hands patiently holding out the kylix for Anthea to take it while her voice was cold as ice. 

More time passed, mere seconds, but enough to make Minthe sigh in frustration before she finally shoved the kylix into Anthea’s hands. She had already turned to leave, when she stopped barely long enough to say what she wanted to say. 

“Thank you for bringing him back.”

Her words came quietly, not even a whisper, but they were heartfelt and Anthea would have liked to reply. She was not sure what she might have said to the other woman, but Minthe took that choice from her as she hurried her steps to leave the room.

“Thank you.”

Anthea’s words followed her, but they probably did not reach the naiad before her body had melted into the shadows. Her eyes were still fixed on the darkness, when beside her a strained groan rose from the bed. 

“Aidon.”

In a second she was by his side again, careful not to spill the flaming liquid as she sat down next to him. One hand reaching for him, she softly caressed his cheek. It was clear that he needed rest, but what he needed most now was to drink the water from the Phlegethon so he could heal, and for that she needed him to be awake. 

“My love,” she addressed him, louder now than her tear-choked voice had allowed before, and to her great relief she could feel him respond. He stirred, his eyes reluctantly fluttering open. It took him a moment to focus and realise where he was, but then the softest of smiles graced his lips when his eyes found her.

“Aidon, I need you to drink this.” Anthea held up the kylix slightly so he could see it without having to move his head. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

He knew. He knew what was about to come, his body refusing to endure even more pain as his lips pressed together upon the thought, but still he nodded. 

“I’ll try to help, but first you need to swallow as much as you can bare.”

Her free hand dove underneath his head carefully and lifted it from the pillow. Anthea was reluctant to bring the kylix to his lips, it would hurt so much, making him feel as if he was burning alive from the inside and she was not sure if she possessed the same powers as he did and would be able to ease his suffering. But there was no other way. It was either that or—

Aidon must have thought the same as he had mustered the last bit of strength that still remained to wrap his hand around her wrist and guide her. He was quick to chug down the entire content of the kylix at once, despite the revolt of his body that stiffened beside her, his grip on her wrist tightening as he tried to fight his impulse to shove it away. He groaned and grunted, teeth biting down on teeth so hard Anthea feared they might chatter, and his eyes—she could not bare the anguish they held, begging her to make it stop, somehow, anyhow.

And so she let go of the empty kylix, ignoring the clattering as it rolled off the bed and hit the floor. She had no idea how, but she managed to move her hand to his chest despite his almost painfully tight grip on her. Anthea felt his burning skin underneath the palm her hand, felt the frantic beating of his heart that hurried to pump the blazing liquid through his veins, the heaving breaths he drew in between the waves of pain that rolled through him. But she needed to push all of that aside, needed to focus now, and even though she had no idea what exactly it was that she had to do, she could sense the stirring of her power as it flickered back to life. In an instant, it rose and flooded her whole being.

Please, make it stop. Help him. Make it stop.

She chanted the words in her mind over and over again. If her powers would listen and obey, if there was anything they could do for him at all, she had no idea. But suddenly the grip on her wrist loosened and his body went limp. 

Oh Fates, no. No, no, no. He could not be…he must not be…

“Aidon!” Anthea’s voice was shrill, a sound so strange to her own ears that at first she thought it had come from someone else. But then she heard it again, and the sting in her throat that went along with it told her unmistakably that it was indeed her own body that had produced this horrid sound. 

With a soft thud, his head fell back into the pillow as she busied her hands with the sheet that covered his body. Both hands fisting the cool fabric, she tugged, freeing his torso to reveal the ugly wound his brother had inflicted. And it was only then that she dared to breathe again. 

The change was subtle, still in progress, but the ichor came slower now with every passing second and soon she could watch the edges of his wound growing smaller, until it had closed completely. 

With a sigh she had kept buried deep inside for much too long, relief began to take hold of her, pushing aside the fear and despair and grief that had already been looming in the shadows. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as her hand found his chest and rejoiced upon the gentle up and down, the steady drum that calmed her like no other, until the own beat of her heart fell into step with his. 

It was done. He would live.  

He would live.

She could feel him. Long before her mind had shed the cloak of slumber. His touch. She would recognise it anywhere. 

His hand moved tenderly, gentle fingers gliding along her arm, all the way down to her hand where they entwined with hers. And then his lips were there, pressing to the back of her hand, his whiskers prickling enticingly against her sensitive skin. 

And when her eyes opened, they found his immediately. His gaze was soft, with a pinch of melancholy, before it lit up. 

“I thought I had lost you.”

“You…you thought you had lost me?” Anthea’s confusion could not have been any greater. Had she missed anything in these past hours? Had it not been her who had watched her love being pierced by the Master bolt? Who had barely made it back to the Underworld with him? Who had made him drink that heinous elixir, thinking she had killed him with it? Had it in fact been the other way around? “Aidon, I thought I had lost you. And I almost did.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. And you,” he kissed her hand once more before he set it down in front of her and let go, “you’re free now. You can finally go home.”

Home? Whatever was that supposed to mean? Did he not know that there was no home without him? Not anymore. And never again.

She wanted to tell him, scream the truth into his face if that was necessary to make him realise the utter foolishness of his words. But all she could muster was a frown before he went on.

“You know, when I first came here, to the Underworld, I felt like my life had ended. I moved like a shade among other shades, all the goodness vanished from my life in an instant, like the sun, exchanged for this never-fading, eternal darkness. By the time you came along I had almost tricked myself into believing that it wasn’t so bad, that I had finally started to feel comfortable in the gloom, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I know you feel the same about this place, who wouldn’t? And I could never ask of you to stay here with me. To share this misery I call life.”

“Aidon—” She needed to stop this nonsense at once, but he did not let her, shushing her with nothing but the sorrow in his watery eyes.

“But before you go, just know that I would do it all again, just to be with you for this blink of time we were allowed together.”

“Aidon, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s all right.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry to tell you, but I think you must have lost more ichor than you probably realise.”

“Excuse me?” The sudden confusion in his voice amused her beyond reason. This sweet little fool—her sweet little fool. Did he really think she would abandon him?

“Are you even listening to yourself? Aidon, I almost lost you. There is no way I am going to leave you now, not ever.” Anthea sat up beside him, first wanting to get up and pull the curtains aside, but then she thought better of it and with a mere flick of her wrist, they flew aside, letting the almost blinding light of the sun flood the room. She almost squealed in delight upon the ease with which her powers had bent to her will, but she was not finished making her point. “Besides, look around. Whatever happened here while I was gone, this place is so beautiful now. Why would I want to leave?”

“While you were…?” Aidon rose from the pillow himself, unable to suppress a little hiss as he lifted his arm to shield his eyes with one hand against the blinding light. “Anthea, this change did not happen while you were gone. It happened when we…the night you and I…”

“Oh!”

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and Aidon must have seen it too, coaxing the sweetest of smiles from his lips upon her flustered state.

“Exactly.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with…” Her fingers pointed back and forth between him and herself. “You know.”

Aidon chuckled. “How could it not? Two deities unifying like that.”

“Two deities…” Anthea frowned, turning her face towards the sun. “It’s still so unreal. I don’t feel like… I mean, are we sure I am—”

Anthea heard him chuckle again, and then his hand was there, warm and soothing, cupping her cheek to make her turn and face him again.

“Of course you are. No offence, but do you really think a mere mortal could have singlehandedly defeated the All-father? There is ichor running through your veins, my love, fire and earth bend to your will, the Cosmos saw Zeus defeated by those very powers…”

“By your powers as well.”

He huffed. “Whatever did I do apart from catching a lightning bolt with my stomach?”

She knew he had meant it as a jest, but the mere thought made Anthea flinch, and he pulled her close. It was invigorating to feel him like this, to rest her head against his shoulder while her hands dove into his hair, to give herself over into the safety of his loving embrace. Something she had almost lost, and suddenly it was her who felt the need to pull him closer.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would never have even realised I had these powers.”

“I’m sure you would have found out eventually. And even if you hadn’t, this doesn’t disprove my point that it was all you.”

It was still incomprehensible, even though she had been there and lived through it. Had felt the power, had seen what she was capable of. And yet…

“But how is this even possible?” she asked as she pulled away slightly, just far enough to look into his eyes.

“That I don’t know—yet.” Anthea felt the strong impulse to close her eyes when his fingers only slightly brushed her temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But we can try to find out together if you like.”

Anthea’s eyes went wide. “If I…Does that mean I can stay with you?”

“Look around you, love. You shaped this place into what it is now as much as I did. There is no way I could refuse your wish to stay, could I?”

Her heart fluttered upon his words, making her head spin a little as they truly sunk in and filled her with a warmth only he could cause inside of her.

“No, indeed you couldn’t.”

She found herself leaning in already, her lips gravitating towards his, and so did he. But then she thought better of it and pulled away. It was almost impossible to hide the wicked grin that wanted to break loose upon his dumbfounded face. 

“Although I could never stay knowing that I am only allowed to do so simply because it would be impolite to send me away.”

He knew she was bluffing, the slight twitch of his lips told her as much. He must be fighting just as hard to hold back a smile, but he did.

“I will have to think of a better reason then.”

Aidon’s eyes immediately dropped down to her lips and how she managed to stay serious and refrain from kissing him right away, only the Fates knew.

“You will.”

He took his sweet time, pretending to think about it hard, but then his fingers wove into her hair and when he spoke again, he had already pulled her impossibly close, his lips almost touching hers as he whispered, “How about this?”

She had missed this. Had missed him, the way he held her, the way his lips moved with hers, never demanding, never hurried, but gentle, enjoying her to the fullest, the softness of her lips, her sweet taste, the movement of her tongue against his as they slowly explored each other until the urge to breathe forced them to be sensible again, just for a moment, and their lips parted in a gasp.

“So?” he managed to pipe up between two breaths and the honest insecurity in his question astounded her. How could he ever doubt that this had not been enough to convince her? And still, she did not mind tasting more of his honeyed bribery.

“Hm, I am not sure if I understood you correctly. Could you maybe—”

He did not even leave her the slightest chance to finish that sentence before he let himself sink onto the mattress again, coaxing a squeal from her lungs as he pulled her with him. He winced a little on impact, but he left her no time to worry about it. Instead his lips sealed hers to silence any protest that might have formed. 

It would all fade eventually—the pain, the fury, the memory of the anguish they both had endured—until the only thing that remained was them. The God of the Underworld and the Guardian of the Balance of the Cosmos, Goddess of Earth and Fire. 

***

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@rosecentury

@fightmespideyboy

[sneak-pieck]

Part 2: Sometimes Life Throws Weird Things Your Way

Pairing : Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoe

Word count : 1136

Part 2 Of "Sometimes Life Turns Out Alright"

The child grew unbelievably fast, and with her, her parent’s love for her and each other. Picture frames filled with memories deeply etched into each of their souls would slowly but surely begin taking over the walls of the home they’d once seen empty, now full. All thanks to their love, all thanks to them and their sweet Olympia. All because of this blessing of a child. Not that they weren’t happy before! Yet…this was a new kind of love and happiness they experienced. Couldn’t be compared.

At about the three year mark, Hange’s sleep would begin to grow deeply troubled. Slowly, at first. So much so that they hadn’t even realized until it had been a bit too late.

The weirdest buzz would randomly fill their head, making them unable to pay attention to the radio that played the same song for the fifth time that morning only. Yet that they’d blame on the tiredness they felt they dealt with. It most often happened in the mornings after all. And then it would be the trembling. Holding their cup of freshly pressed coffee that Levi had prepared for them became an impossible action sometimes. But then again, this too was simply blamed on the same old issue. However they couldn’t shake the worry they felt when one morning they’d managed to pour some of the said coffee on themselves, feeling the burning sensation spreading down their torso and right leg. Worry, yes, for the feeling felt oddly known. Now, Hange was aware they were a clumsy person, yet they’d never managed to burn themselves, not once.

‘’Hange? Hange, oh my god-’’ Levi’s worried voice would pull them out of the shock they had gotten lost in, and Hange would deliver a gentle laugh as they finally stood up from the breakfast table.

‘’S-Sorry, i must have zoned out. I’m alright, my dear. Worry not.’’

The dark haired man had always been quick to worry, and they knew that more than well, so in order to perhaps try to avoid that, an attempt to distract him by the use of jokes was made, like..they’d very often done throughout their life.

‘’The only worry we should probably have is if the coffee is going to stain my shirt. I swear to god, it’s my favorite one!’’

‘’We can soak it in detergent so it will prevent that-’’ he’d muttered as he leant against the kitchen counter, trying to allow himself to relax, trying to allow Hange’s jokes to do as they sometimes did…calm him.

‘’Oh Oh! We can use the thing- the thing in the pink bottle!’’ They’d cheer happily, already on their way away from the kitchen so they could peacefully change their shirt and… assess any damage. That coffee was damn hot.

‘’Vanish?! Good Lord…’’ Levi couldn’t choke back the small chuckle that came as his beloved waddled off, his eyes filled with concern that drowned in a warm sea of love.

And as time went on, the love in the Ackerman man’s eyes would slowly be devoured by the concern and worry his heart hung heavy with as he watched his spouse go through something…fairly unknown to them both.

From small shivers, to trembling so bad they couldn’t hold on to their cup or plate and from small humming present in their head throughout the morning to loud beeping that prevented them from being a functional being for a while,usually leaving the poor person migraine ridden for hours if not days.Yet the couple for sure agrees that one of the most terrifying…symptoms of whatever Hange was dealing with must have been what happened the morning of Olympia’s fourth birthday.

The alarm the person had set for themselves that morning didn’t have the chance to ring, for Hange had woken up nearly two hours before. Four thirty six in the morning, the clock by their side read in big,red letters, as if screaming the time to them. As if trying to pierce itself deep into their irises, for whatever ungodly reason. Hange would take a deep breath as the confusing world around them settled a bit- and with that deep breath also came the overwhelming need to scream. But…why? The reason did not truly matter, for it seemed even if they wished to give in to their instinct, it wasn’t to happen. Their mouth now suddenly agape with drool beginning to pool at the corners of their lips,slowly starting to drip down their face. All Hange could do was breathe heavily, hands gripping into their bedsheets as fear settled deep within their very core, and as drool dripped down from their chin, tears too would soon begin to fill their terrified brown eyes,rolling down their pale cheeks. The person’s body would soon begin to tremble, and that seemed to finally alert and awaken Levi, whom Hange had to convince to at least try and get a full night’s sleep- the day ahead would be very full and tiring, yet oh so worth it for the sweet smile on their daughter’s face.

‘’Hange?Hey- Hey Hange! What’s the matter?! Dear-??’’ The man’s sweet voice didn’t even have the time to sound groggy or tired, but instead drowning in worry and concern as his hands gripped at his spouse's shoulders, hoping a slightly stronger squeeze might help them snap out of it. People often had weird dreams that caused them to react in such…odd manners. Levi was aware of that,yet Hange seemed very much awake and aware,simply frozen by some overwhelming feeling.

And in a way,Levi was right in his judgement. His grip on them allowed Hange to realize this was real,this was indeed happening to them and they had to snap out of it. By God did they try…only managing when their frantic husband began to shake them by their shoulders.

A sudden gasp,followed by a loud cough as the person immediately reached to cover their left eye signalled to Levi that they’d finally been dragged out of their panic- or so he thought. However the moment Hange managed to catch their breath, they’d begin letting out desperate whimpers and sobs, clearly choking back pained screams.

‘’Muh- My eye…Levi,my eye-’’ The agitated person managed to spit out finally,tilting their head in order to be able to glance at their husband. And the poor distressed man would see terror and pain in his beloved’s eye- unspeakable pain and perhaps desperation. He’d been about to ask them about it as his hand trailed up their now sweaty back, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe them. But the moment Levi opened his mouth to speak, it seemed Hange’s body had finally given in to this imaginary pain, causing them to simply collapse forward, passed out.

[dk-thrive]

That is one of the many reasons why l avoid speaking as much as possible. For I always say either too much or too little, which is a terrible thing for a man with a passion for truth like mine.

— Samuel Beckett, Watt (Olympia Press, 1953) (via Alive on All Channels)