#augury speaks

[the-auguer]

I just couldn’t write a Belphie POV for my fic fear of falling apart (shameless plug) and I was wondering if it’s because I just don’t like him. In simple terms, yeah. But in not so simple, it’s cause I just can’t understand him or get into his head.

Warning: a whole rant is ahead. Just for my peace of mind.

While I don’t personally like Belphie, I do have a certain appreciation for his character. He is interesting, but what’s more interesting is what he could have been. I feel as though he could have been developed a LOT more into a really layered character that had a complex and interesting relationship with the MC after the whole Lesson 16 debacle. But it was such a massive waste of time. More than half of the entire first season was building up to the Belphie confrontation and all of the juicy, crunchy interactions and character moments that would have to follow an event like what happened. But it just didn’t happen. I’m not talking about the lack of apology or the canon “awkwardness” that the MC had to fix. The fallout, the consequences, of that entire situation should have been meaty. And obviously, everyone reacts to trauma differently so it’s hard to put that in a self-insert game, but there should have been dialog/action options or plot progression. PLOT PROGRESSION. Diavolo and Lucifer just inadvertently got the only human without magic in the exchange system killed on their watch. Simeon and Solomon— and VERY MUCH Solomon— should have been fucking on that. We could have had higher stakes than ever, even more than whatever forced “Celestial War” bullshit that Nightbringer tried to pull. Instead we get another 4 lessons of fluff and hyjinks. 

All that tension, all that suspense crashes down and is wiped away in an instant, leaving the player to wonder if the whole Belphie thing was even that big of a deal in the first place. 

I think that a really, really compelling dynamic could have been born from Belphie… not apologizing. Or apologizing but for the wrong things. He took the demon threat that had been hinted at with nearly every demon brother and fucking hammered it home. The MC couldn’t do a damn thing and just died. Just like that.

Just… there were so many different directions the game could have gone to really flesh out the Three Realm Student Exchange aspect of the world, and make Diavolo a character that isn’t just secretly super interesting. Or even just to make any characters other than Mammon and Lucifer (the faves) a little less two dimensional. Maybe even explore what it is to embody sin and still love. Finding love despite or because of that sin. Idk, I’m just a home fanfic writer.

But it pains me to see a product that had so much potential, a CHARACTER that had so much potential, get squandered.

Long rant told shortly, I don’t write Belphie because I just can’t. There’s nothing for me to extrapolate from. Lesson 1 - 16 Belphie is a different person from who emerges afterword. And I just can’t compute who he is, what his motivation is, what his wants are. I can’t get into his head or even make something up for him yet.

Anyway, if you read this far thanks :P

[solarunion]

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[PT: Solar Union, D.I.D. System, It/pyre. Main blog: @pyrriax, MCYT enjoyer. Icon credit, header credit. Frequent posters and tags: Lazarus, She/he/sol, The crown prince. Planet, Onei/onier, Ode to a dreamer. Leviathan, It/voi/oneir, Endless void. Hollfron, It/glitch/void, Glitched space. Nocturne, Pyon/voi/it, No universe to end. Spoke, It/cil/rain, Neon dreams. Full list can be viewed here! Other tags and info: Seraph speaks, original posts. Angel's augury, answered asks. Solar sketches, drawings. Galactic gallery, art saving. Headmate blog directory: @krowfangs, @bloody-nocturne, @onwardoneiroi. This blog is a constant work in progress, come back again! /end PT]

[kemetstuck]

Augury/ornithomancy would be a good route to look at, but to get a sense for what the message is we really need to know what TYPE of birds ate the goat, and potentially things like cardinal directions/orientation.

For previous years, the burning of the goat was viewed as a sacrifice that would ensure a good following year. Therefore, the fact the goat was mostly eaten is probably a good omen.

However, since the difference is man-driven destruction/sacrifice versus nature taking its course, for whom the next year will be good is another question. Are the birds (and therefore nature) going to have a great next year? What does that portend for us? Climate change is a big issue that we have caused, so any wins for nature seem good on the surface, but who knows what method that may arrive by. There’s some aspect of “nature taking what is theirs” and ignoring humans entirely to get there, so it’s not necessarily going to be good in the same way for humanity as it would be for nature.

Another aspect is symbolism behind the birds behind it. Historical augury had very detailed lists on what birds were food vs ill omens. If it were flocks of ill-omen birds, that’s way more likely to be bad for us. However, if it were good-omen birds, that may mean that nature’s good year will also be good for us.

Look, I know we’re all tickled that the Gävle Goat has been pecked apart by birds, but as far as omens go, it’s a bit like flipping a coin and having it land on the edge

[snowthegoth]

CFS06: Choosing Not To Decide

CFS06: Choosing Not To Decide Also at Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and YouTube. Patch Notes In this episode, I talk about divination, forms of divination, and the things that surround divinatory arts. Nodes Ahsabairka: https://snowthegoth.com/ahsabairka/ Finding Questions and Crafting Queries: https://snowthegoth.com/2024/03/18/finding-questions-and-crafting-queries/ Digital Ambler’s Geomancy…

[pouralaura]

Sorry, this is probably weird. But my brain is Raphael 24/7 and he and Tav being obsessed with each other. But I was wondering how he’d react to a demi Tav?

He’s crushing and trying to impress for the longest time, and they are completely unphased. Like nothin’, nada. I’m sure he’d be frustrated. But also perplexed? He’s always been able to charm his way with people. So he meets this unmovable person and he’s like ???

But then imagining later on, Tav’s feelings for him suddenly hit them like a fucking train. All of their obsession with HIM hits like tenfold. He is the sexiest being in existence, and they are stupidly in love with him, and they are PANICKING.

I may be the only one who finds this particular scenario intriguing but 😅

Disclaimer: I am not well-versed in demisexuality and this is my first time writing it, so please pardon any lack of necessary nuance here. thanks to @reallyhatethiswebsite for helping me figure out the trigger point! they/them AFAB Tav, Raphael POV.

--

Had Raphael ever, in all of his hundreds of years, experienced such a maddening, tantalizing, mouthwatering proximity to victory? Every hellish fiber of his being thrums in anticipation of his looming triumph. The Crown, so close, its pull so alluring. The augury of his reign launches his mind into a state of utter bliss outside of business hours (and, frankly, often during), a grin on his face and his cock hard as a diamond beneath the quilting of his luxuriously expensive trousers. He is, simply put, so close.

There remains but a single obstacle in his way: a lost, floundering little mouse, so unprepared and ill-equipped for success -- at least, at first. Raphael had been pleasantly surprised at Tav's capability for mortal achievement once they'd gotten their feet underneath them. His respect for them grew as their conquests did; they'd proven an apt ally for many and a fearsome adversary for many more.

Flawed as they are, Tav is perfect for his plan. Raphael has every faith that they will be his savior (in a manner of speaking) now that the time is drawing near. They must succeed. They will. Such a headstrong, belligerent creature; all the sweeter to become the victor -- and, in line with that, to claim himself.

(More on that in a moment.)

He's ruminating on this, as he has near-incessantly in recent months, while strolling back to the Devil's Den from deeper within the city. Maintaining chivalrous relations with his hosts at Sharess' Caress is mandatory; he pauses at the front desk to brush a kiss across the delicate knuckles of the blushing Amira, inclines his head in polite greeting to various good-natured courtesans, and stops to exchange pleasantries with Hoots at the bar before ascending the stairs to his domain of the Gate. Trivial pursuits, but necessary.

(Back to the matter at hand --)

Yes, he will claim Tav himself.

...This point requires further clarification. He will claim Tav as a step to his own conquest. They will fulfill a contract with him. If it happens that they also wish for his claim in a more decidedly carnal way, what manner of devil would he be to deny them? A favor for a favor, after all.

But, alas, they'd proven nearly unmovable in that last respect. It's far from the first time Raphael has experienced, either implicitly or explicitly, rejection of his incomparable devilish charms -- but, to be fair: nearly all of the aforementioned occurrences had been caused by an innate preference for the fairer sex. Their loss, perhaps; but it simply couldn't be helped -- and certainly not a stain on his ego.

(Tav, for what it's worth, however, does not seem limited by such preferences. Near-flawless reconnaissance is a gift and a curse; Raphael is very much aware of their blessedly brief dalliance with the insufferable vampling.)

Such hopes for mutual understanding on levels to-be-determined had been dashed, indeed, until a particular point of curiosity earlier in the week, when Tav and their ragtag gang of unappealing ruffians had met him upstairs at the Caress following his confrontation with the inestimable Kith'rak. Voss had left, and Raphael had snapped his fingers to shield Tav and their party from the detestable illithid shouting about in their heads --

The devil had watched figurative clicking cogs turn between the little mouse's ears for several seconds as they processed the assumedly blissful silence he'd fleetingly gifted them.

"I don't...hear anything." Tav's voice had been quiet. Surprised.

"You are, as always, welcome." He'd smugly spread his arms, inclining his head in a mock bow. "My favorite future client deserves nothing if not the very best I can offer."

There were no differences in how he'd behaved on this occasion, but the way Tav looked at him after his effortless momentary aid was far more layered than during any previous encounter. And, if he was correct -- colored by the hint of a blush, one that he could smell before he could see. The scent of blood rising to their cheeks, dusting their pretty countenance with just a trace of something. A crack. A break.

Perhaps.

Delicious.

He nears the door of the Devil's Den, and...stops.

There is a familiar scent in the air; one he did not expect to be greeted by upon his return to The Office. It's them.

His little mouse is inside. Must have climbed through a window, leapt across rooftops to reach the one opening he leaves regularly and intentionally unwarded for just this precise possibility.

(Korrilla, behind his back, raises her eyebrows at this deliberate lapse in security each time it's included in his instruction. She's lucky he doesn't snap the bones in each of her toes one-by-one.)

Cautiously, he wills the hellish locks to open. Carefully, he presses long, tanned fingers to the door's handle. With deliberation, he pushes into the room.

It takes him two point three seconds to register that Tav is not only in the room, but on their back on the rich, plush red duvet-covered bed, propped up on their elbows, staring straight at him with the loveliest blush dusted across the apples of their cheeks. He steps stiffly into his domain, letting the heavy wooden door close and lock behind him with a decided click. Another seven point eight seconds to close the distance between them (he slinks across the room slowly, like a cat); a full nine seconds, once he's arrived at the bedside, to drink in Tav's nakedness from head to toe -- well, except for the whipped cream adorning the tips of their breasts, if one could call that any sort of coverage. And -- ah. An amber liquid filling the divot of their belly button.

His mouth curls up into a satisfied little smirk. They have been paying attention.

"Are you here to accept my offer, little mouse?" Raphael finally asks, low and warm and purring.

He watches them swallow. Breathe. Follows the red flush as it spreads, heated, down their neck, between their cream-laden breasts, around their liquor-filled navel, all the way down to the lovely pink of their vulnerable, exposed, undeniably glistening sex.

"I am not. At least, not yet." In a contrast to their blush, Tav's voice is strong and level as they continue despite Raphael's responding sneer. "I am here to make one of my own."

"And what, pray tell," the devil bites out, voice tinged with the familiar mix of irritation, intrigue, and damning arousal this creature heralds within him, "might that be?"

"I'm inclined to accept, but only following further discussion." They grin. "But over dinner, here. And...you'll need to do something about my --" here they motion to the confectionary disaster writ upon their flawed, mortal body, beneath him in every way -- "current state."

He'll play along, if only to ease the tightness in his trousers.

Less than ten minutes later, when Raphael is laving his forked tongue along the underside of Tav's breast, lapping up the last of the cream and holding himself back from spilling onto the sheets beneath them, he thinks: I am in control.

Tav moans as he bites; as he presses his face between their thighs, a ragged whine bubbles up from his throat, hot and needy.

They'll be mine yet.

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

what are some of your Octavian head cannons?

Hi glassssssss :D🌸

I have quite a few lol. I will resist only writing the crack ones. That deserves a post of it’s own lmao

He’s Korean Italian.

He can speak over five languages. Italian, Korean, English, Spanish, Portuguese, Latin, bits of Japanese.

His birthday is on the 8th of August. Hence his name.

Octavian is not his actual birth name. It is a second name given to him by the head of the family as per their tradition.

Only child (this I consider self projection, cuz I’m an only child and I dunno how to write siblings so fuck it) has a lot of cousins tho.

His mother is mortal, and is quite a famous model. But they are rather estranged.

He’s a daddy’s boy. Extremely close to his dad. His dad calls him August (only he can call tav that)

He’s Bi/Ace. But thinks exploring that aspect of himself is a waste of time.

Octavian has loose curly hair but he straightened it. He also bleaches his hair from time to time. His hair is very damaged.

When tav first came to camp he didn’t know English well so Micheal (who ho knew a bit of Spanish) helped him. They primarily speak Spanish with each other.

Octavian and Micheal actually arrived only three days apart. So they were assigned together. Which sort of was the start of their friendship.

Octavian was only 14 when he was assigned as camp Augur. And right after that he was assigned as Jason’s caretaker.

When Reyna first arrived he took her under his wing, primarily because of her abilities.

The three became quite close. Octavian genuinely loved his two siblings. Sadly that’s only because he thought lowly of them. So when they both were appointed Praetors, something in Octavian snapped and they were never the same again

He’s a bird dad. He has three birds at home. Sadly he couldn’t bring any of them with him to Camp.

He is also a legacy of Victoria.

Performing Auguries has left him with dry and strained eyes as he’s staring into the fluff for several minutes at a time.

The after effects of every augury reading and prophetic vision often takes a huge toll on him. Causing nosebleeds, nausea, migraines, fainting episodes.

He very occasionally sleep walks. It’s a camp inside joke that carrying him back to his room brings good luck and has become a sort of tradition. Octavian has no clue of it.

Everyone thinks he can glow. He can’t he’s just very pale.

The only time he actually does glow is when he’s getting prophetic visions.

Primarily his eyes glow. And also the prophecy itself that etches on his skin which leaves marks after the visions end. It’s a bit painful and itches a lot but they tend to fade after a few minutes.

The first time he went to karaoke with his friends he sang for ten hours straight. And he was perfectly fine, no vocal cords damage no nothing.

Octavian’s biggest insecurity is not having enough traits related to Apollo. But he constantly ignores and undermines the ones he has. He also has the most negative Apollo traits out of anyone.

He curses like a sailor, but the catch is that he curses in every language except English.

Octavian was forced to play the piano as a kid. He actually wanted to learn the drums but never could.

Octavian has a tattoo of the Camp logo. Left of his stomach. He got it at 16 thinking it would be so cool. He regretted it soon after.

He has a very high spice tolerance. Shocking but it’s very funny.

Was an ice hockey player but he quit so he could focus on his plan to become Praetor.

(This is a sort of inside joke HC) He plays COD, a lot. Die hard fan. Has posters and stuff. Micheal was the one who introduced him to the game. Totally has a secret art account where he posts his soapghost fanart PFFT AH-/jjjj lmao

Probably has like two boxes worth of yaoi manga hidden under the floorboards of his bed/jjjjj PFFFFT

I think I should stop here cuz like I have so much lore for this guy and the hcs are so specific😭😭 we’ll be here for days bro lmao 😭😭

[valtsv]

can we know more about your fantroll's relationship to her purpleblood friend *bats eyelashes* she's so cool

i can only speak for myself, since terack isn't my oc, but augury and terack's relationship is incredibly bad for both of them. on augury's side, it's a convenient excuse not to face up to the frightening possibility of change; to bury her head in the sand and tell herself there's nothing that she can do but go along with the way things are and bear witness. on terack's, it's a way to repress any guilt she might feel for his actions, by having a passive enabler to confide in and mold in his own image. it's a parasitic arrangement, with both parties upholding it mostly out of a sense of responsibility and an inability to imagine how anything could ever be different, which has led to a great deal of bottled up resentment and self-loathing that's starting to widen the cracks in their already fragile bond. after entering the game, the plan was to have terack force augury to god tier by killing her, leading to augury finally realising that this "friendship" isn't worth the sacrifices she's made to maintain it, and using terack's betrayal as a turning point for her goals and priorities. this results in a feud developing between the two, with augury convinced that, in order to protect everyone else from her, and fulfil her responsibility as his former best friend, she needs to be the one to put terack down (which i realise is very scourge sisters, but whatever lol). obviously this doesn't work out the way she thinks it will, because her god tier ability to divine the most fortuitous path is blinded by betrayal and years of repressed bitterness finally welling up to the surface (which is thematically appropriate, since terack's classpect is thief of mind).

[stochastiz]

i'm distracting myself from real life by thinking about magic users who stim using their spell components

of course there are the classics of using your arcane/divine focus and/or material components to fidget with:

rolling augury sticks/bones/dice around in your hands or pushing them around a table, shuffling and cutting your tarot deck

feeling the softness of the feathers used for flight-based magic

twirling small pieces of wire and constantly bending them into various shapes before straightening them again

pulling your amulet along the chain that holds it along your neck, using a particular spot or groove along its surface as a worry stone to rub your finger on or pick at

but what about the verbal stims you can make out of the arcane and divine languages the magics are based in:

turning casting phrases into patterns to chant or challenging yourself to repeat them as fast as you can like tongue twisters

picking out the particularly satisfying parts of the elemental languages used in your casting to echo throughout the day

maybe a non-magical party member picks up bits and pieces of the phrases the casters of the group say as they cast and try speaking them for themselves, seeing how the words form the potential for magic in their mouth but find no purchase to be brought into existence

i've mainly been thinking about somatic and physical components as stims though. how the intricate finger and wrist movements used to pluck magic out of thin air must be so satisfying. but also how a magic user who might gesture wildly as they speak or try to keep their fidgeting fingers from drawing too much attention could be gesticulating with movements from their spells unintentionally, and what sort of subtext that could lend to what they are saying:

a cleric going through the motions of a bane or a blessing towards their conversational partner, depending on how the conversation is going

gesticulating through an emotion calming spell as they try to talk someone down from a heated argument

a wizard saying "sorry, could you repeat that?" as their fingers imperceptibly twitch through their language comprehension spell and they focus more of their attention on the speaker

a druid fumbling to catch an item they dropped as their fingers try to summon a vine instead of reaching for it themselves

nervous fingers busily trying to cast invisibility on the body they're attached to after their joke falls flat

fingers rubbing temples in a similar way to how they would cast a spell to see through illusions or invisibility as the caster continues trying to see the solution they know is right in front of them

hands subtly motioning to produce flame or acid or electricity in their palms before being outstretched to shake the hand of a new acquaintance that has already managed to rub the caster the wrong way

hands that jolt into the beginnings of protective spells with each roll of thunder or crack of lightning the caster hears outside

it just seems very right to me

[bellewintersroe]

Carlos Sainz x CelebEx! Reader 18+.

Carlos’ ex, world famous model, actress and, much loved F1 presenter, Lila Maynard bumps into him during the Italian GP and she confronts him about his hypocrisy 🙄🙄 (arguments and ensue and we see how Carlos most definitely makes it up to Lila).

what do you all think of Isa’s tik toks? I’m living for her liking all the shady comments, she’s a queen.

“Tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a te!” I winced in confusion, recognising the tune of ‘Happy birthday’ being chimed out in Italian. September 1st, there was only one person I knew celebrated on that day and that was my ex boyfriend of six months, Carlos Sainz. Fuck. “Tanti auguri a Carlos, tanti auguri a te!”

“Hip, hip hooray.” I sarcastically muttered to myself, keeping my head down and walking out of the hotel, a wall separating the Carlos frenzy crowd and I. Thank god, my stomach churned just at the thought of catching sight of my ex boyfriend. We had been separated for almost six months, and not spoken in five. Despite working on the grid, interviewing drivers I was strictly able to avoid the Ferrari garages, occasionally I’d go speak with Charles, but it was difficult seeing as Carlos was always nearby, watching me with these puppy eyes that made me want to gauge my eyes out. You see, Carlos seemed to move on pretty quickly with a beautiful model, our two year relationship clearly meaning nothing more than one month to him. Four weeks. That’s all it took, it sickened me to the core. I still had an internalised anger directed towards him, but it was squashed when I stepped out from behind the wall and was suddenly face to face with an innocent looking Carlos.

Hooray…

My breath hitched and out of pure panic, I began with a breathless; “happy-” but I was cut off when a beautiful, tall brunette appeared by Carlos’ side. Carlos looked stunned, mouth open as his eyes were wide staring at me. The girl looked me up and down before staring right back to the Spanish man. She hooked her arm around his protectively. My jaw fell slightly agape and I nudged my chin up in acknowledgement. ��-Birthday.” The words fell flat, as did the harsh pounding of my heart. It dropped all the way to the bottom of my stomach as I turned away in a revolted shock.

I strode straight past him, plastering the most fake smile over my face as I waved to people yelling out my name. As soon as I climbed in the back of the car I was a trembling mess. Jesus fucking Christ, that couldn’t have been more awkward. I felt the tears well up as I stared directly down to my cream pants, the camera flashes from out the window capturing me in the most vulnerable moment as I attempted to shield my face, swiping at the tears. Hours later, the images were sprawled all across social media. Images of my head down, tears stained down my cheeks, images of me directly across from Carlos, stood face to face with him and the girl pinned as his new ‘lover’. It wasn’t the same girl as I’d seen all over tik tok, Instagram and Twitter all those months ago. Still, it bothered me. Really bad. It seemed social media was having a frenzy over the cringe worthy interaction, people were trolling Carlos saying it was his ‘birthday canon event’ to bump into me. I truly had no desire to head out that evening, but I knew wallowing in a hotel room on a Friday night would do me no good, so I was two glasses of wine down with three of my friends when I heard a very familiar tune. “Tanti auguri a te…” I groaned, dropping my head onto my arm, rested on the table below. “End my fucking life. Now.” I muttered.

“Oh, Lila.” Taylor sighed, twisting a strand of my hair. Listening to what seemed to be the whole bar singing happy birthday to my ex boyfriend was the final straw for me, I took off early. But not before I took one final trip to the toilet.

On my way out, I audibly sighed at the heavy feeling lingering over my chest. When would this ever end? I pushed my lipgloss and phone back into my bag as I stepped out from around the corner. I wasn’t looking where I was going and bumped directly into another body.

“Oh, fuck!” I blinked a few times, stepping back. “I’m so sorry-” my apology fell flat when I looked up and caught sight of the stranger- stranger.

“I- wanted to talk to you…” two pairs of familiar hands were on my shoulders, easing me as my stomach filled with nerves instantaneously. It was Carlos. He must’ve heard the way my breath hitched, his hands slowly dropping as we just stared back to one another.

“Talk to me?” I swallowed, “in the girls bathroom?”

“Actually… here is fine, Lila.” My eyes fluttered shut as I pitched the bridge of my nose momentarily. “I- look, happy birthday and well done in practice and all, but- I-I really don’t want to do this Carlos.” I admitted as he swallowed harshly. The first thing that gave away he was nervous.

“I just wanted to say sorry from earlier.” The Spanish man muttered. I avoided looking at him, if I stared for too long I’d fall in love or a deep hatred all over again for him. Maybe both. I didn’t want to know how his hair was longer, or his smile didn’t blossom so big anymore- the small details like scars, freckles, things that would all come back to me if I looked at him a little too long.

“Why? What-what about earlier?” I stammered.

“I saw you upset. I don’t want to make you upset.” My jaw tensed as I stared down to the floor below. “I- can you look at me?” He attempted to reach forwards, but I took a whole step back.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, Carlos. I can’t.” I responded firmly. “You can’t look at me?” He sounded hurt now, exactly how I’d been feeling all day. For the past six months in fact. Maybe I was being irrational, but it didn’t bother me to care, I felt so humiliated and betrayed by this man, worst of all I still loved him. If I looked back at him I know I’d break down.

“Please.” He lowered his voice, stepping ever so slightly forwards as I felt my eyes prick, my teeth grinding down on a certain point of my cheek to prevent any from falling. “Let me explain, Lila, everything.” His voice was on edge, cracking with each word. There went the tears. I blinked up, rolling my eyes at my pathetic ability to hold any tears away. I wiped at the one that fell quickly. He looked taken back, saddened, just as he was about to reach forwards to console me, I thought, fuck it, what’s the point in holding back now? “Explain what? How you moved on after four fucking weeks Carlos? Or-or why you’re talking to me when your fucking girlfriend is sat in there.” My hand gestured as I spoke harshly. I stared directly back to him, he was shaking his head in rejection of my words and it fired me up almost instantly. “No-”

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it. I saw everything, all the models, all the yachts, were you spiteful of me?? For making the decision to end something that wasn’t fucking leading anywhere?” Maybe that wasn’t so correct, but in my blinded rage I didn’t care, I wanted my words to be as harsh as possible. I wanted to cause maximum disruption the way he’d caused me. Maybe that was the wine talking… or maybe it wasn’t… “No, no.” He shook his head, the frustration growing on his face. “We are not doing this here, bebé.” The accidental pet name flew a dagger directly into my chest, twisting and snagging on my heart the longer I stared back to him.

“I’m not your-” I cut myself off seeing another, oddly familiar face walking around the corner. I was sure she was extremely familiar to Carlos too.

“Carlos… what’s going on?” The English girl questioned, she eyed back to me and in that moment I felt uncomfortably sorrowful for her. She hadn’t exactly done anything wrong.

“I’m just… sorting some things out, I’m sorry, you should go.” He muttered as I cringed for the girl, my stomach churning at the rejection. Although it was deep down what I wanted, that was an extremely spiteful thought of me.

“Okay.” She awkwardly spoke, eyeing me up once more. “I am sorry.” Carlos muttered. “Um… it’s fine.” The poor girl paused for a couple more seconds, obviously contemplating what the hell had just happened. I could only stare at the wall in complete awkwardness, questioning how this could possibly get any worse? Part of me just wanted to walk away, the other part of me physically and emotionally couldn’t. Carlos let out a deep sigh once she’s headed around the corner, away from the two of us. “I had only met her twice.” He spoke, much calmer now. “That was mean.” “I know..” he quietly spoke as a silence took over us when a few more people walked past to go into the toilets.

“Was that who I thought it was?” One girl muttered to her friend, her voice echoing down the hallway. “Should we ask for a picture?”

“Lila, please. Can we go somewhere quieter.” Carlos asked at the perfect time. Hearing the girls turning around I or back up to him, desperate to avoid the eyes of onlooker that could spread dreaded tales around social media. Carlos took me to an empty room upstairs, nobody was there, no staff, nothing. He locked the huge wooden door behind us both as I awkwardly lingered by a table. It must’ve been some kind of function room, a small one that wasn’t in use. I was positive we weren’t allowed up here, but from the looks of things, nobody noticed, and the cameras were all pulled from their hinges, hanging off wires sadly. “I had only met her twice.” Carlos repeated his words from downstairs. I leant back on a table as he stood in front of me, pacing slightly. “And your girlfriend on the yacht?” I stared to the ground below. You could feel the vibrations from the music, and as the clock was striking 9 I slowly lost any desire to be in here.

“Not my girlfriend.” He shook his head. “I needed a- distraction.” He fumbled over his English slightly as my heart swelled. I dragged my nails slightly over the skin in a bid to rid the warm feeling.

“Estaba enojado.” (I was angry). His voice sounded more deflated as he stood still, picking the wood of the table below. “Why?” My voice borderline whispered. “Because…” he began in English again but his voice came to an abrupt stop. “Porque pensé que ya no me amabas.” (Because I thought you did not love me anymore).

It took me a couple seconds to piece the Spanish together. “What does that-” I froze, head tilting up to him. “You didn’t think I loved you anymore?”

Carlos shook his head, tensing his jaw as he stared down to the table below. “So-so you wanted to back at me?” My voice lowered, the anger sizzling out of my body. The thought of him believing I didn’t love him hurt. It made me feel sorrowful, remorseful, and for the first time, understanding of why he did what he did.

Carlos now nodded with a yes and I pushed myself to stand up straighter, so we were a little closer. “I always loved you. I still do.” I watched his movements stop at my admission.

“That’s why it just hurt so bad to- to see them in my place after four weeks.”

“It was 3.” He then commented as I froze again. “3 weeks. If we are being honest.”

A dizziness ran through me, a sickness like no other as I stared back to him now, bottom lip trembling.

“Me convierte en una mala persona.” “Stop with the Spanish, I don’t understand.” My voice trembled as his head snapped up. He always spoke Spanish as a safety barrier, so I couldn’t exactly always tell what he was opening up about, especially when he was nervous. “It makes me a bad person, Lila.” He reached out, smoothing a hand over my cheek. I shook my head as a ‘no’ but he had already began nodding. “Yes.”

I nudged his hand away, my head dropping as I let out as light sob. “No, no, no.” He panicked, “ven aquí.” (Come here). Carlos pulled me into his chest as I attempted to hold back the cries I wanted so desperately to let out.

“No, no, no.” He muttered again, rubbing up and down my bare arm as I took a deep breath, wiping under my eyes carefully. “They didn’t come close.” Carlos then spoke. “They didn’t come close to you. I love you, and always you.” His words festered something deep inside of me, a feeling that I couldn’t control. It was the exact same warmth and comfort I felt around him, the way our soul’s felt connected- it was an irreplaceable feeling to say the least.

“Carlos.” I whispered, turning up as he began using his thumbs to swipe away my tears. “I hate you.” I whispered, the words lacking any sense or meaning as he sadly smiled, running a hand down my hair. “I know.”

“I really hate you.” I pathetically spoke, both his hands holding either side of my face. He looked mesmerised, strands of hair was brushed over my face, his mouth was agape as we both stepped closer.

“I know.” Carlos muttered even quieter, his head dropping as my eyes fell onto his lips. On my toes, I met him half way. I love you… I didn’t know what was happening in that moment, but it was like we automatically met half way, our lips landing on one another’s in a hungry kiss. Our teeth clashed dramatically, body’s bouncing against the tables and chairs behind us, all without breaking apart the kiss.

My hands pulled him closer, desperate to feel him, all of him. One of his hands firmly held the back of my head, the other pulled my waist into his, forcing our bodies tightly together. A desperation inside me mixed with how heated the kiss was had my hands flying towards his belt. “Please. Carlos, please.” I whispered, giving into all attempts of putting a barrier up. I needed him, and he needed me. He let out a slight moan of agreement, refusing to the break the kiss.

I began undoing his belt swiftly, feeling his hands tug up on the short dress I wore as he fell to his knees. My hands disconnected from his belt and held onto the table behind me for stability. My breathing was heavy and laboured, and I couldn’t even think straight as he yanked my underwear down, not even getting them fully off my legs before his mouth attached to my pussy.

“Oh- fuck.” I gasped, eyes rolling back at the pleasurable sensation. His tongue was warm and wet against my core, his fingers tightened around my hips, yanking them up onto the table once he’d freed me from my underwear. I didn’t bother being quiet, the music downstairs would drown out my moans, and I was pretty sure nobody would venture up here anyway.

“Carlos.” I gasped, my fingers tugging on the ends of his long hair, the familiarity driving me insane as I dropped my head back, riding his mouth as he slurped and licked, groaning against my pussy as he pushed his mouth deeper, sucking and nipping.

I let out a cry of pleasure, tugging harshly at his locks until he let out a moan at the pain, breaking apart. He stared at me for a second, a look of complete shock in his eyes. There was a second just of our heavy breathing before he moved back in, pushing my thighs further apart, biting at my flesh, kissing and licking.

“Please.” I begged for nothing in particular. “Please, please.” My head fell up to the wooden roof, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt him move up, the sound of his belt fully unbuckling stirred me again, Carlos tucked his hand, engulfing the back of my head and pushing his forehead against my own.

“Nadie comparado contigo.” (Nobody compared to you). I moaned at the familiarity of his words, feeling the tip of his cock push against my entrance.

“Te amo. te amo.” (I love you. I love you). Carlos filled me up, wiping at the tear stains on my cheeks, lips pressed against to my forehead as his hot breath fanned against my skin. I shuddered at the fullness he made me feel, fingers snatching at the smooth of his shirt, bunching it up as it untucked from his pants below. I kissed him tenderly, feeling the thrusts of his hips begin. Carlos moved closer, nudging his face up against the side of mine, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. With each moan and breath he took, it heightened my own pleasure.

Our breaths and pants mixed together, the table squeaked and scraped on the floor below, Carlos slammed a hand down, groaning as he bit into my shoulder, pushing down the spaghetti straps as I freed my breasts, allowing him to grab a handful. His eyes roamed over my face, my eyes, lips, breasts, where he fucked into me, he was beginning to sweat, moving constantly between kissing me and pulling back to thrust into me faster, harder. I was in intense bliss, my pussy tightened and clenched constantly, with each tension Carlos would groan, gripping onto my arm tighter as he fucked harder into me.

“Fuck me, Carlos- oh my- god!” I whined, hearing him moan properly, his legs hitting against the table causing it to screech harder against the floor. We were loud, animalistic, soon enough, Carlos had spun me around and fucked into me from behind as I grasped onto the table for support.

The press of his cock constantly slamming against my g spot made me yell out in pleasure, breathing harshly. “Quiero que te corras para mi.” He dirty talked, arching over my body to press against my own. His fingers slotted under me, rubbing over my aching clit as I bucked my hips wildly back into his.

“Please, please, Lila.” He begged as I choked out a moan, my eyes screwing tightly shut. He was fucking harshly into me, skin slapping against my own as one of his hand trembled against my shoulder, gripping my harshly. Something about his begs and groans had the knot in my stomach tightening harsher than ever. His fingers worked against my clit, faster and faster as I gasped out loud.

“Oh fuck- Carlos-” I borderline slurred, crying out as I dropped a hand over his fingers, feeling one of his curling over mine. My legs were shaking and I felt paralysed with tension as it took one more thrust before I was tipping over the edge, crying and moaning out, gasping and pleading his name as I came undone, my orgasm paralysing my whole body. My pussy throbbed, his thrusts continuing as Carlos’ groaned became louder. “Cum inside me, I want you inside of me.” I choked out, coming down from my overwhelming orgasm. Carlos’ hand slapped against my ass, gripping me closer as he slammed his hips into mine before letting out a loud growl and unloading his seed inside of me. High on his orgasm, Carlos fell on top of me, panting and moaning as he slowly bucked his hips through the pleasure. I was a gasping, sweating mess, my eyes closed as I rested on my hand which was flat to the table, letting out one last coo of a moan feeling Carlos’ lips press to my upper back.

We remained in that position for a few more moments before my legs began to tremble with the ache of half kneeling on the table, the other supporting me with the tip of my toe touching the floor. My heel had falling off during the love making, so when I stepped down I fell straight onto the cold of my feet. Carlos shifted, lifting his body off me as I turned around, standing up as I brushed my hair down. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, there was an element of shock to the whole situation, it all happened so fast. I bit down on my lip, watching him tug his boxers back over himself and his jeans back up, zipping and doing the button. He paused before he did his belt, glancing back up to me. Carlos reached out, smoothing my hair down on one side with a soft smile. I offered one back, pulling my dress straps back over my shoulders.

Carlos’s eyes dropped to my ribcage before I covered myself with my dress. “New tattoo?” He poked at the skin, “Mmmh. A couple months ago.” I shyly spoke, giggling when he eyed up my breasts slightly.

“Don’t.” I quietly spoke, but it didn’t have much authority behind it. “I have seen it all before.” He turned his head away when I asked him to, fastening his belt.

“Still.” My lips were crooked as I awkwardly searched for my underwear, feeling his seed spill out of me as I grimaced. “Here.” Carlos smiled, handed me the black fabric over, holding it out on his palm when he retrieved it from the floor. Embarrassed, I swiped it from his hold, pulling them on quickly as they caught the liquid that was beginning to seep out of me. I cringed, uncomfortable with the sensation as Carlos let out a small laugh, tucking his shirt back into his pants.

I glanced up, smiling shyly before looking around the room a little awkwardly. “¿Estás bien?” (Are you okay?). “Sí.” I giggled as he let out a closed mouth exhale of laughter, buttoning up his shirt which had popped open previously.

“Are you?”

“Sí.” He nodded, sighing and glancing back to me. “I don’t really hate you.” I muttered after glancing over his face. Carlos hummed in laughter in response, reaching out and swiping his thumbs under my eye. The gentle movement made my heart flutter as I couldn’t help but properly gaze over his face, disbelief setting in as I watched back to my ex boyfriend.

“I don’t.” I shrugged, feeling swipe what must’ve been fallen mascara. His hand rested on my cheek, moving in to kiss me softly as I felt myself swooning even harder. “Will you come with me tomorrow- ah with me to qualifying?” The Spanish man asked.

I felt my chest tighten, I reached out to soften the crease in his white shirt. “You want me to?”

“I want you to.” Carlos seriously nodded as I nodded. “Okay.” I whispered. He smiled again, taking me by the hand and easing me forwards, unlocking the door we locked. We didn’t really acknowledge the fact we’d just fucked like rabbits in such a public area, the two of us escaped the bar, giggling and ignoring the paparazzi. “You come out here with one girl and leave with another.” I kicked his foot, resting my hand over his thigh.

“Don’t say that.” He very quickly spoke, clearly looking a little awkward as we shared a laugh. I leant forwards, kissing his cheek. “Happy birthday, Carlos….”

The whole ‘ex boyfriend’ didn’t last too much longer after that, it was clear to say hooking up in a run down, attic bar magically solved something between Carlos and I…

[the-auguer]

I feel like I should apologize in advance for the upcoming chapters of my DWBD AU cus I realized Mammon’s your favorite but I often write him as a big meanie in that AU 😅😅😅

NO WAY!!! Don’t ever apologize for it! Mammon is my babygirl and my fav, but he’s also a mean little shit. It’s almost a game to me to read him being so mean, I find it so funny and fun. I wrote about your replaced!mc au, but I’ve also thought really hard about writing about how Mammon dangled your dwbd!mc off a roof.

I think that Mammon’s nastier side DOES exist and it’s always really interesting when creators explore it bc for the most part creators don’t really. He’s rude, he’s obnoxious, he’s an ass. All of these traits coincide with him being the sweetest loser in existence.

Also, him being mean to dwbd!mc just paved the way for angst in the future, and I love some good angst 👹👹👹

[vipvesper]

all is fair in love and war

pairing: octavian x child of bacchus!reader

warnings: octavian 😞, pining, minor cursing, spoilers for son of neptune!!

word count: 1.3k+

“i wish reyna would let me strangle you.”

Octavian? You hate him for the most part. You hate the storm swirling above the Temple of Jupiter that crackles with electricity as another teddy bear augury is completed. You hate the way his piercing blue eyes mock you from behind Reyna as you sit at a Centurion’s meeting. You hate his insane laughter that echoed in your ears 6 years ago when he mutilated your stuffed animal. You roll your eyes. Dakota’s red-ringed lips lazily speak orders to the Fifth Cohort, but nobody’s listening. We’re gonna soften the defenses. Again. Great. As if the looks on our faces afer stepping away from the Officer’s conference wasn’t bad enough, Dakota’s speech isn’t helping. He squeezes a packet of Kool-Aid.

“Listen, guys. This is gonna be a good one, I can feel it!” You take charge, opting to do the talking. “Hazel and Frank, I know you guys are still on the new side, but I think you can do this. First row, create a shield wall with Dakota as you advance to soften the blow. Second row from Cecil over, hide behind the shields to fight off any advancing defenses. The other twelve, try to sneak around the flanks and find a way in.” A smile pulls at your lips, moving your brother aside. “Let’s move out, troops! Victory for the Fifth!”

The child army echoes your cheer as your ranks break. A looming wall stands in front of you, cohorts three and four standing guard behind. How do we see past the wall? When it’s so tall? “I suppose we’re acting as bait again,” you murmur to Dakota.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Hannibal’s all ready?” You inquire, wanting to make sure your cohort gets the win they deserve. He nods, grabbing another juice out of his pocket.

The war games start, Reyna hovering overhead with Scipio. A circle of eagles fly in tandem with her, awaiting injury. You tag along with the twelve soldiers, attempting to find a crack in the wall, an unguarded plate. A tug pulls in your stomach, long green vines pushing out of the ground of the Field of Mars. Branches split off to grab your cohort, gently placing my teammates over the wall. It’s a struggle to keep Hazel and Frank quiet as they’re plopped right into enemy territory. The sounds of swords clashing rings out before you can even climb up yourself.

As you drop down, armor clinking together, the vines recede to leave a small scar in the earth. Wide blue eyes immediately stare back at you, coupled with the golden glint of a spatha. Great. Octavian’s here. Can’t give him a chance to think, you remind yourself. Your gladius makes a nice noise as you remove it from its sheath, pressing the flat against his smaller weapon. Before long, he’s disarmed. Unfortunately for you, he immediately starts to squawk, alerting any soldiers who might’ve still been preoccupied by their Mythomagic tournament.

“Backup! I need backup!” The lanky blonde yells, fumbling for his secondary weapon. A stray arrow whizzes past your ear as you lunge, grabbing him by his shoulder.

“Fifth cohort, for the colors!” Jonathan and Frank rush for their emblem, narrowly dodging flying furniture. Hazel’s backed into a corner by a First cohort member, her golden eyes filled with determination.

But, Tyche really isn’t on your side, is she?

A last minute elephant mishap knocks your troops away from the battlefield, wiping the scoreboard clean. Eagles swoop down to snatch up a good portion of the teenage militia.

You sit on a stone wall overlooking the city of New Rome, holding an icepack to your cheek. Guess Octavian had gotten you after all. A sigh rolls past your lips. The win was so close, it was right there. Bandages wrap around any minor cuts you may have acquired during the game. The all-too familiar crinkle of a Kool-Aid pouch makes you assume that Dakota had finally found you.

A rather soft object hits the back of your head.

It’s a freaking Kool-Aid packet. Grape flavored, at that.

“Wouldn’t Reyna like to know that her favorite Centurion is throwing a fit over a loss? What a sore loser,” a sarcastic voice jests. You grit your teeth, turning to face Octavian.

Curse him and his skinny body, his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes, his unblemished skin—

Woah.

Where did that come from?

“I’m looking for ways to better myself for my cohort. Not like you’d know anything about self-reflection,” You scoff. Much to your chagrin, the augur sits beside you. Phoebus Apollo rides close to the horizon, signaling the nearing arrival of dinnertime. “Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” he smirks. He looks quite stupid with those stuffed animals hanging from his belt, in your opinion. Seven stripes burn on his forearm under the symbol of an eagle, much like your own. His loose white toga hangs off his clothed shoulders. The sun radiates onto his pale skin, bathing him in a warm glow. Cocky bastard. He knows he’s pretty. “Do you have a staring problem?”

You snap back to reality real quick.

“No, I don’t.” You turn your head away, embarrassed. You weren’t staring, were you? Small vines decorated by bundles of purple grapes pop up around you, encircling the area. “Is there a reason you’re here? Or would you just like to gloat.”

Octavian reclines, pressing his hands on the green grass behind him. He picks a grape, tossing it at your temple. “I’m simply encouraging your improvement,” he teases.

“I wish Reyna would let me strangle you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

As you look out at the sunset, you don’t notice his eyes on you. You don’t notice the way his gaze trails over the bridge of your nose and your freckles and the rosy hue covering your cheeks like he’s committing the way you look at dusk to memory.

“Pretty night, huh?”

That’s unusual. Octavian making small talk?

“Yeah, it is.”

“You weren’t too bad today,” he mutters, very clearly avoiding his gaze. It’s very much unlike him to butter you up, even if he wants something.

“Thanks?” you tilt your head, confused by his praise. Should you be offended?

The two of you look out at the little Tiber rolling over the hills, basking in the golden hue painting the heavens. A long, cold hand drapes over yours eventually, gently squeezing. You jolt away, face pink as the clouds in the sky.

“The Pluto?!”

“Shut up.” He shoves something in your lap, and for a second you think it’s a grenade of Greek fire, set to explode as soon as he’s out of range. Tyche must feel sorry for her absence earlier.

A soft green material, as green as the grass, sits against your thighs, a happy smile staring up at you. It can’t be. A fuzzy memory returns to you, a feeling of nostalgia washing over you. A frog plush from long ago. Stitches a bit darker than the original fuzzy fabric reach from seam to seam, head to toe.

“What—?”

“Seriously, shut up. I found it tucked away, thought you’d like to see it again before it gets sacrificed to the gods again.”

You scoop up the piece of your childhood in your free hand, eyes wide as the cosmos. Before that little smirk on Octavian’s face can grow any further, a cold, hard object smacks him right across the face, sending him reeling.

“What the—?!”

“You little dick,” you huff, placing the icepack on the ground. “Thanks, I guess.”

He smiles—a real smile, however small—as he stares into your eyes. “You’re very welcome, love.” His alabaster face is painted red.

You shake your head, amused. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Like a scene from a fairytale, his hand snakes its way onto your waist, the proximity only forcing more of your father’s fruit out of the ground.

“Like I’d listen to you,” he chides.

You lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss.

“I really am irresistible.”

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

[evvvangeline44]

memento mori - remember to die

my jegulus fic with seer regulus

⋆｡°✩⋆⋆𖤓

Prophet boy,  who speaks in tongues of auguries chosen by the sun, blood made divine and eyes made of moon dances in hand with death  Star boy,  falls to the sea  who born from water emerges once more  will find the dark lords secret seven times anew   or stand at his side as a servant renewed Lion boy, water filled lungs and sun kissed wings will turn the war  faction unfixed will look to the sun  for dark and the light both call for the little king the child of the moon will learn to burn... Icarus landed in the sea when he fell. Helios kissed his wings with sun-soaked lips and burnt him into a legend. 

link on ao3

[x-blue-spring-x]

If requested are still available - nanami who has a crush on you but you're with auguri 👉👈

Hi bestie!

Love this idea, not sure who you’re referring to as boyfriend so we’ve made him just some guy, that Kento can’t stand lmao.

Kento watches the light play across the glazed windows of the small soba restaurant he’s sitting in, half a bowl of noodles and an empty cup of water sat before him. You’d texted to say you were running late, but that was nearly forty minutes ago and tired of waiting with his stomach rumbling, he’d caved and ordered something to fill the void.

Frankly anything at this point to kill time would be accepted, whatever it takes to distract his thoughts from returning over and over to the one thing he can’t hold in his broad palms.

You.

Kento doesn’t consider himself highly strung or prone to lovesickness. If anything he’s cool and collected, dominated by logic rather than letting his heart lead. It’s that same sensible outlook that keeps reminding him it’s hopeless, he’s hanging on to something that’s a lost cause. But no matter how many times he tries to rationally dismiss his feelings, they remain omnipresent, an ever changing pang lodged deep in his mind which fans the flames of sweet longing.

Frequently his inner eye wanders to you, the way you look when you smile at him from the corner of your eyes, the sound of your laugh echoing in the corners of his apartment as he tries to catch a few moments peace. You brushed his hand incidentally late one evening, discussing plans for a new method of exorcism based on the combination of your cursed techniques, and Kento felt a sense of calm unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

It was so natural for you to touch him, utterly perfect like the pieces of a moving puzzle slotting neatly into place. You’d been sat close to his broad shoulder, the smell of your perfume impressed on the cuffs of his shirt. Kento still hasn’t washed it clean and he knows that’s strange. He just can’t bear to remove the memory of that moment, the vision of your face alight with excitement as you told him your ideas.

Partners of a kind, workmates even though Kento would rather be far more than that. You shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, he knows this and yet still it becomes harder and harder to conceal just how much you mean to him. Each interaction with you is treasured, savoured like a delicious meal, though he always ends up hollow and alone when you go back to him.

Him. Your boyfriend.

A man thoroughly unworthy of the gift you represent to the world. The one that makes you come into work with red eyes and distraction evident in your face because you’ve been fighting with him. Kento can’t think what there would be to disagree on with you, anything you asked of him he would give, but then again perhaps this boyfriend isn’t up to the task.

Kento holds others to a high standard, that’s how he knows you’re the real deal. No one else could ever or would ever capture his attention in the way that you have. Occasionally he becomes sloppy, going above and beyond to keep you safe during missions or letting himself find opportunities to speak with you, though there’s nothing that pressing to discuss.

He nauseates himself with it, this stupid adolescent style crush. However you deserve so much more than your boyfriend could ever give you. Kento knows if he ever was lucky enough to hold you, kiss you or even have you in his bed for a night, it would be impossible to go back to a life without the feeling of your body next to his. You’re a curse all of your own, an acute poison there is no antidote for.

Kento checks his phone, there’s a message from you apologising. Explaining that somethings come up and you’re skipping dinner. It has an argument with your boyfriend written all over it, between the lines of your polite little text. Kento clenches his fist so hard the plastic of his mobile pops, the screens backlight fluttering as if butterflies have sprung into life across it.

“Get ahold of yourself.” He murmurs under his breath, dropping cash on the table for the noodles and heading home without looking back. Easier said than done, it’s been months of this and every time you choose that man over him it’s back to square one.

Once inside his warm apartment, Kento heads to the shower, like the water will cleanse him of the unprofessional thoughts coursing through his bloodstream, making his pulse pound in ears and his cock twitch in his slacks. Your body so pliant against his, a tie binding your wrists carefully so you can’t escape the flicks of his tongue against your pretty clit. He’d tease you, build your desire into something life changing, so when you came you’d never want any other man. Kento’s never seen you naked, but he knows the sight would be burned onto his retinas in only the way seeing a goddess in the flesh has the power to do.

Kento rests his head against the cool shower tiles, breathing hard, trying to stay anchored in reality and not drowned in the image of your body riding his.

Abandoned somewhere on a counter, his phone glows.

Two missed calls from you.

I wanna snuggle him omg 🥲

[wanderingmind867]

Honestly, Octavian feels relatable. In his own way, he's really relatable. The implication from hazel that he has no friends that he didn't bribe into being his friend… that hurts. I don't know if it's nearly as depressing as me (a person who's turning 20 in February with no friends besides my dad), but it's probably pretty close.

Also, Octavian clearly has hyperfixations on roman history and on prophecies and auguries. He's clearly passionate about what he does, he took the earliest opportunity when percy meets him to begin discussing his famous namesake, the great Gaius Octavius, Augustus Caesar. He's just relatable. Way Moreso than Luke was. I can actually see elements of myself in Octavian, the same way I can see elements of myself in characters like Leo, Tyson, Piper, Nico, Grover, etc.

Speaking of roman history, Augustus Caesar lived to be an old man. Octavian dies when he's like 18 or 19, max. If that isn't irony of the worst sort, i don't know what is. Poor Octavian deserved better and Luke deserved worse. If Luke at least got redemption in death, Octavian should've gotten the same treatment.

[thehamletdiaries]

Every time I'd have Hamlet and Horatio kiss in a production of the play

So, obviously there are a million ways to play Hamlet - more than a million - and this is just one of the many versions that exist in my mind’s eye…but I was going through the play and thinking about when I would have the two boys kiss; this post is meant for nothing other than my own indulgence and as something sweet and fun and ultimately, sad (of course, it is Hamlet…):

HAMLET I am glad to see you well: Horatio,--or I do forget myself.

As a general rule, whilst I would have Hamlet and Horatio fairly obviously being physically close - Horatio resting his head on Hamlet’s leg during the play on the pipe scene, for example - but I wouldn’t have them actually kiss around people, mostly, but I think with Marcellus and Bernardo - and for this first moment of them being reunited - I’d make an exception.

I’d have Horatio in the scene where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern first speak to Hamlet, and after this bit of dialogue…

HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. Exit First Player My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord! HAMLET Ay, so, God be wi' ye; Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN

…Hamlet would make a “hey, go with the to keep an eye on them” face at Horatio, and Horatio would begin to exit, following them, then pause for a second and run back to quickly kiss Hamlet, before leaving to go after their friends.

HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

This is the obvious speech for a make out session, of course, but I think I would actually just have Hamlet with this hands on Horatio’s waist for all of it, but only lean in to kiss him at the end of the speech, after “as I do thee”.

HAMLET There's another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha? HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

I’d have Horatio lean in to briefly kiss Hamlet in a sort of “please stop going on about this I am worried about you and I care about you and I also sort of just want you to stop talking about it because you’re talking yourself into a weird state of mind here and also you are sort of adorable at the same time” way.

HAMLET Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.

I’d have Hamlet gently kiss Horatio after “let be”.

HAMLET As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.

I’d have Hamlet grab Horatio and passionately and desperately kissing him after “I'll have't” and throwing the cup away.

HAMLET O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

And I’d have Hamlet kiss Horatio once more after “O, I die, Horatio” before falling into his arms as they both sink to the floor.

[megaerakles]

Lol ok I DID spend 8 years studying Latin so pronouncing it isn’t weird at all for me personally but I respect that position 😅 also the fact that Auggy is a terribly embarrassing shortened form is appealing to me because his brothers would have a lot of fun with it. Like he presents this badass cool sounding name, all proud of himself for the symbolism and stuff and then it immediately gets truncated into something decidedly less cool. It would be so fun.

The actual perfect grown up new identity for Tim is Augury. Augury is the ancient Roman practice of divination by BIRDWATCHING. It combines the bird theme with an oracle theme in one cool sounding word!