#but I don’t believe it and I won’t ever I think

[chillonthewhitesaviourshit]

This is a fiery hot take that no one will agree with but after 10 years working in the development sector in Africa; we need a break. Enough “caring” please. The help and the core problems the help is supposed to be addressing seem to come hand in hand; reinforcing each other’s presence. Africa is poor so she needs help. Africa is exploited so she is poor. No chicken and no egg just an endless cycle of well paid aid workers, NGO CEOs, handwringing talking points, blame, and data sets that insist we can evidence based our way out of a situation that just won’t change. So I suggest 100 years of benign neglect from the rest of the world. Hating Africans lead to terrible things but honestly loving us and caring about us hasn’t really done anything to change those outcomes. So instead- leave us alone. Take nothing from us and loan nothing to us. Do not use us as your go to examples of the worst situations. Find another way to guilt your children into eating all their dinner. Stop praying for us. Don’t think of our children. Stop sending flour, stop sending bibles, stop sending teachers, stop sending your old clothes and shoes, stop sending your pollution, stop pushing policy, and stop sending weapons. No aid, no trade, no contact. Leave us alone. For 100 years. Will it be chaotic? The current situation is chaotic. You are absolved of guilt. Whatever happens it will be Africans doing it to other Africans and that isn’t really news you have ever cared about without a white saviour role to play. Don’t worry about it. At least this way we can figure out how to feed, educate, heal, and sustain ourselves without aid. We literally have all the resources we need in Africa we just need them to be managed for the good of the majority of Africans. 100 years of solitude is a strong start. I believe in us. What will the world do without our labour and resources for 100 years? It’s “just” Africa. I’m sure they’ll survive.

"why should I care about Africa"---> lives in a country that's upheld by the current and past exploitation and destabilization of Africa

[igotanidea]

World's worst wingman: Jason Todd x reader (ft. Dick Grayson)

story borrowed from @gay-dorito-dust, thank you :)

Summary: Dick being Jason's wingman.

***

„Come on, just go do it!”

„No.”

„Why not?”

„Because.”

„Why are you being stubborn? I saw you eyeing her whole night! Seriously, if you keep bringing that face expression on, you will turn into an anime character and-“

Jason groaned and run fingers through his already messed up hair.

For the record – he had no idea that the object of his interest in the form of Y/N would be at this particular club tonight.

Well – maybe a faint idea. Just a vague concept of her whereabouts.

It wasn’t like he stalked her a little, getting to know her favorite places to hang out, her work and her home and the way she was using to commute to ensure its safety.

Definitely not.

But even if he did – there was no regrets in his actions with regards to that.

What he did regret though – was bringing Dick with him to act like some sort of wingman. Stupid. Idiotic. Completely reckless behavior. HE should have known better than that.

Instead of having a chance to talk to her, he was stuck by the table, trying to melt into the plush backrest of the couch behind his back, that happened to be the same color his face was turning into.

Forced to listen to his brother constant babbling how he can’t be such a coward and shy and antisocial and that she seemed to be a nice girl and why won’t Jason just get his ass up and –

“Shut up.” Jason muttered, edging the thin line between behaving and getting a temper tantrum.

“Ohhhh! Is my little Jaybrid getting flustered?” Dick teased, grinning like a madman, deriving almost sadistic pleasure from tormenting his brother.

“I’m getting so many regrets about telling you shit about her.”

“Oh, come on, don’t say it! That’s so not fair! I’m only here to help you, cause with the way you’re acting now I don’t see much chance to succeed in-”

“I’m going to get a drink!” Jason stood up from the table so abruptly that only by miracle it didn’t trip over.

“Oh yeah! That’s the spirit! And while you’re at it, can you bring me one more pina colada?”

It was all just a big fat joke to Dick.

***

“Hey, can I have a beer and a pina colada?” damn the second part of his sentence barely left his throat.

“that;s an unusual mix, istn;t it?” she chuckled grabbing a glass and starting to prepare the drink with learned precision.

“Yeah, it’s not for me – “ Jason stuttered, despite himself “It’s for-“

“Your date?”

“huh?”

“That guy over there?” Y/N pointed towards the Dick, waving at her crazily across the club

“WHAT? He’s not my date! He- he’s my –“ it took a lot of effort from Jason to not address Dick as his prey, but somehow, gulping heavily and clenching fists he managed to calm down. Ish. “-brother. He’s my effing brother.”

“Oh, such a  relief!”

“Relief? Why?”

“Cause it means he’s not gay, huh?”

“Oh…”

Of course she was asking about Dick. How could a girl like her ever pay attention to a guy like Jason?

“Relax, I’m kidding. It’s only because of the drink. I mean – what kind of a man orders pina colada unless he’s playing on the other side of the field or has a particularly nasty sense of humor, right?”

“Are you always this observant?”

“You know, some people think I’m just  a bartender, but the truth? I’m also a watcher and a listener. You wouldn’t believe the amount of drunk girls crying their broken heart out on this particular counter.”

“Hah!” he chuckled. For some crazy reason her attitude was making him feel at ease. Like he could actually maybe stand a chance with her?

“So, here’s your pina colada and your beer. Enjoy.”

The second she handed him the beverages he knew the moment was over. He was a customer at the bar and she was working here. They were not friends and definitely not more.

“Yeah, um – thanks …” he muttered, retrieving back into himself, grabbing the mugg and a tall glass, heading back to Dick with sense of defeat inside him.

***

“Are you crazy?!”

“Stop yelling!”

“But are you crazy?!” with the way Dick was tugging at Jason’s shirt it was truly a miracle that the younger brother did not end up drenched in and reeking of beer. “You had a chance! It was the perfect opportunity and you’re back here?! Please tell me you at least asked her out!”

“I –“

“Holy shit, Jason, you totally blew it.” Dick rubbed his forehead “Tell me you told her, you liked her!”

“Well-“

“Ok, fine, fine. Let’s lower the bar and the expectations there then. Tell me you told her she’s pretty.”

“I’m not telling the cliché that any drunk man would!”

“You’re hopeless. You are totally hopeless. My god, did I teach you nothing during all those years?!”

“Shut up, Dick!”

Too bad it was too late and Dick was already on a highway to making a scene and the biggest commotion this little suburban club has ever seen.

“Dick!” Jason hissed, feeling all eyes on them. All eyes except Y/N’s who was apparently ending her shift, cleaning some of the stuff from the counter and filling in her colleague.

“Quick! Fast!” Dick started pushing Jason towards her direction.

Mistake.

A little tip: if you ever try to push a 6 ft and 200 pounds man in any direction at all, make sure to make sure he expects it.

Otherwise, the mass of muscles may just subdue to the undeniable power of physics. Especially the gravity and the rules of dynamics. You know, the whole a body set in motion moves in a uniform motion and all shebang.

In Jason’s case it resulted in him losing the balance, falling backwards and stumbling upon unexpecting Y/N, crashing into her as they both ended on the floor with a very disturbing crack coming from somewhere.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Y/N? Are you okay? I am so sorry, I am so terribly sorry, how many fingers do you see-“

 “Ouch….” She groaned, reaching for the hand he was reaching towards her, letting him help her up. “Five?”

“Three. Close enough.”

“So you’re a sloth now?”

“huh?”

“Well, I said five fingers, you said three. Sloths have three fingers and – mh. Dry joke, sorry.”

“You must have hit your head pretty bad, huh?” he could swear to god, he had no idea where that joke came from, just slipped his mouth, but to his relief – she laughed. Not in a mean way, not at all. It was a genuine, happy laugh. He made her laugh.

“Yeah, maybe. I swear I am usually in a better shape.”

“I’d love to see that.” He muttered, and in his head it was just a thought never spoken aloud, but when she tilted her head and gave him a funny look, Jason realized he actually did just that. Spoke up. Bared himself to rejection, teasing, hurt, pain, depression –

“Ok.”

“Ok?” his eyes grew wider.

“Yes. Ok. I can give you a sample. And also you owe me.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, ok, so – “ he scratched his head awkwardly.

“I like coffee. And I have a day off tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then so – “ say something you idiot! Say something! “there’s this little café at the 23rd and-“

“See you at 8.” She smiled, grabbed her coat and with a wave of her hand disappeared leaving him stunned.

He had a date. Ish. A meeting. A meeting with a girl he liked.

He could jump up from the sheer joy of this unexpected turn out of events, if it wasn;t for the one little fact ….

“RICHARD GRAYSON!!!”

The yelling could wake up the dead and sensing the incoming sequence of events, Dick quickly started moving through the crowd towards the exit.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

It seemed that after Red Hood was done with his job, Nightwing would be excluded from patrolling that night.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Just some big three pjo things I think about.

Percy -the little shit- would absolutely utilise his ability of water to mess with you.

100%

If you leave a water bottle unopened, expect Percy to surge what little water was left inside to spray you when you’re going in for a drink. Leaving you soaked and glaring at the boy across the camp.

He thinks he’s funny but he’s really not.

You can’t even try to do this back to him as it usually results in it being thrown back in your face, literally as you’re reminded that this dude can walk into waist deep water, and miraculously come back as dry as he was before entering.

So needless to say you keep your water bottles tightly shut when you’re near Percy in case he’s feeling funny that day or has that certain gleam in his eye.

Percy can’t be trusted near uncapped water bottles, it’s a rule to never leave Percy near them or be within sight of any un opened water bottles.

Percy is not allowed to participate in watergun fights…for very obvious reasons and even if he does, the bastard had to be prohibited from using his powers at all during the watergun fights!

Everyone else in camp will be soaked and he would be dry as fuck, everyone calls it cheating but Percy calls it otherwise. Smug little twat.

Also don’t imagine Percy using the water out of an water bottle to douse you and when your chasing him, ready to kill him, his excuse is that ‘it’s a hot day in camp and I thought you could cool off a little!’ As if that was going to save him from the ass whooping your about to give him.

Nico has silent footsteps.

He can travel through shadows.

This is a recipe for disaster as he can easily scare you without having to try all that hard. And it’s the worst feeling ever.

He won’t know just how silent his footsteps are until you point it out to him or else he’ll think that he’s more than made his arrival known. (He absolutely didn’t)

Nico could emerge from the shadow nearby and walk up to you and casually say ‘hey’ and you’ll almost come out of your own skin when you realised the pale Italian in the aviator jacket next to you.

‘Fucking hell Nico’ you’d groan as you grasp your chest, trying to calm yourself down from the initial scare. ‘Warn me next time.’ You would add and Nico would only look at you as though you had grown a second head.

He had no clue what you were on about but would continue his day like he would any other, doing the same exact thing to other campers and getting the same exact reaction he got out of you too many times to be coincidental.

Even when he’s not shadow traveling, his footsteps are quite enough to have you believe that he had just appeared out of nowhere, and not walked the entirety of camp just to tell you something.

‘You’ve got to stop popping up out of nowhere.’ You tell him.

‘I’m not doing anything!’ He’d reply.

‘You’ve got silent footsteps Nico! Can’t hear shit when you’re creeping up on me, do you want me to die?’ You’d say and all of sudden everything made sense to Nico as to why everyone seemed to be unable to notice him until he was standing nearby.

‘Oh.’ He’d say. Does this change anything? No not really as Nico finds it funny to see people get scared. It’s made even funnier when on Halloween when everyone is done telling their scariest stories.

Jason tends to electric shock people, not on purpose, it just happens without warning.

I’m talking rubbing your hands on a carpet super fact and touching someone’s arm, or rubbing a balloon against yourself and watching in awe as it makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

However he didn’t need to rub his hands on a carpet to give someone an eclectic shock, he can just reach out to you and make it happen.

You could just be reaching for his hand and zap! You’ve been given an electric shock by Jason grace! You flinch back to rub your hand and Jason thought you were hurt and was already reaching out to you to help when-

You guessed it another electric shock happens.

It doesn’t hurt, you’re not in any pain but still you were being zapped at the end of the day.

Jason isn’t aware of this ability until afterwards and he’s just as confused as you and will not reach out for you for a while until he’s certain he won’t shock you.

Which is a solid 50/50. It happens when he least expects it or it can strike twice if you were the unlucky soul to get an electric shock back to back.

Guess it’s a weird perk of being the child of Zeus.

[atzloverr]

Yandere alphabet - Hongjoong

tw: yandere, obsessive behavior, depictions of violence, bondage, blood and gore, murder, sadism, abuse, drugging, manipulation, stalking

you read at YOUR OWN RISK, I do not imply that this fic depicts the mentioned people’s behavior.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He loves to shower you in gifts, showing you the lengths he’s willing to go to see you smile. He’ll buy you a full walk-in-closet to fill with cute clothes that you can wear for him, or get you all of your favorite snacks and foods, just to take it away from you when you try to act bossy.

He’ll sit with you for hours, forcing you to spend time with him, watching movies or simply talking about life. All he wants is for the two of you to be like a real couple, going on dates (obviously isolated from all other people) and sleeping together, snuggling up when the weather’s cold (he obviously won’t untie you, he’ll simply pull you closer to him, acting as if you’re the one wanting to be close to him.) ”Aww, you’re cold?” he’ll coo as he feels your cold skin against his in bed. ”Wanna be closer to me, hm?”

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He’s willing to go to any lengths, and I mean any lengths, to show you how truly obsessed he is with you. He needs you to know what happens if you disobey him, and what happens to anyone who would ever hurt you. He doesn’t care if you think he’s a monster for what he does, for how violent he gets, because he knows what’s best for you, and he’ll make you realize that too.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’ll always wear that cocky grin on his face, mocking you as you struggle in your restraints. He makes up a system of rules, making sure you know how you have to behave if you want to get treated better. He’ll keep you tied up in a secluded room at first, telling you that once you obey him completely and stop fighting, you’ll get to lose your restraints and move to another room.

And he won’t lie of course, but the little detail he won’t mention is how you’ll get forced back into even more restraints and even worse conditions if you happen to make the tiniest little mistake, show the tiniest signs of disobedience. And then, you’ll be back to page one, having to work even harder this time to gain his trust again.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

He won’t touch you until you beg him to. It goes against everything he believes in to touch you inappropriately without your consent. He wants you to want it, he needs you to need him.

While this might make him seem like a nice gentleman, that’s far from the truth. He’ll gladly blackmail you, manipulate the fuck out of you until you want him, until you need him and his touch. He’ll threaten to hurt you if you resist him, convince you that actually want him, but you just don’t know it yet.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Hongjoong will not show himself vulnerable in a long time. He’ll only show that side of him when you’ve earned it, or when he needs to manipulate you. He might cry, get on his knees and beg you to forgive him, knowing you’ll fall for his little act. But he’ll only show his real self to you when he actually needs to, or when he’s had a bit too much to drink.

”You know I love you, right?” he once cried into your shoulder, the smell of alcohol oozing off of him. You had seen the blood on his shirt, noticed the way he limped into the room. ”All I do, I do for you,” Hongjoong whispered, his lips grazing your neck. You felt his words tugging on your heartstrings, even though you begged yourself to remain stoic.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh how he loves to see you fight. Seeing that fire in your eyes, hearing the raw emotion in your voice. Seeing you beg, thrash around and scream at him only makes him enjoy this more.

He’ll work really hard to draw out a reaction from you, cutting your skin, making you watch as he tortures someone else. Everything to see you yell at him. He might even untie you when you’re in your weakest state, just to see you try to physically fight him, knowing you can’t even stand a chance. He lives to see that defeated look when he straddles you to the floor, when you realize that you can never actually win over him. But he prays that you never stop trying.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He loves leaving the door open, letting your restraints a little looser than before so you can believe that you can actually escape from him. He’ll make you believe that your ridiculous attempts of escape (like telling him that the room you live in is too cold) will actually work, and make you run all the way to the door, just to wait right outside with a grin on his face.

”Did you really think you could run from me? You’re more stupid than I thought!” he’ll laugh in your face, watching you whimper and groan around the gag in your mouth. ”Now you’ll have to rot here for another month,” Hongjoong says with faux sympathy. ”My poor baby.” He wipes a tear from your cheek. ”Now, which finger do you want me to break first?” he smiles. ”Oh right,” he says, looking at the gag in your mouth. ”I’ll just decide for you then!”

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Your worst experience must’ve been when he brought your former boyfriend San to the house. You had been dating him for a month or two before Hongjoong took you, and you had really started to love him. But there was not a single person on this earth who Hongjoong hated as much as him. The way San would touch you, kiss you, spend so much time with you, that was what made Hongjoong make his decision about abducting you. He couldn’t have you seeing anyone but him.

So of course, the first time you tried to escape, Hongjoong knew exactly what your punishment would be. He tied you to a chair opposite to where San was laying on the floor, bloody and bruised. You can never forget the scream San let out when Hongjoong stabbed him in the thigh, and you could never forget the last words he said before Hongjoong finally killed him. ”I love you.” Even though that was hard to forget, nothing beat the memory of the sight of Hongjoong constantly smiling and laughing as he watched San’s blood splatter all over him.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He has it all planned out. A large, fancy house in the middle of nowhere, close to a lake where you two can have romantic dates. He wants to get married too, and maybe have a cat or two. He doesn’t want kids, so he’ll make sure to put you on birth control, so he won’t have to worry about anything. He wants to grow old with you, and with the amount of money he has, you’ll be able to go all around the world in all of the years you’ll spend together. If you behave, that is.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Hongjoong is jealousy. The jealousy bubbling inside of him was what made his need for you grow in such a rapid fashion. Seeing you with others, thinking about you being with anyone but him, that’s what made him decide to abduct you. You’re his, whether you’ve realized that yet or not.

Is he good at coping with his jealousy, no, absolutely not. That’s why you stopped hearing from that guy who acted a bit too friendly with you, because Hongjoong had to take out his anger on someone. So why not on one of the people he hates seeing you with? You don’t need anyone else, and if you ever express the want for anyone but him once he has you, trust that you’re now the one he will be taking out his anger on.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

It all depends on his mood, which changes rapidly from day to day. You never know what you’ll get with him. One day, he might act romantic, or have a bit more patience than usually. The next day he’ll lash out if you even look at him in a certain way, punishing you for pure mistakes and small things that might’ve gone unnoticed on other days.

But mostly, he acts sweet, but in a manipulative and menacing way. He’s passive aggressive, and makes comments such as ”Well, if you hadn’t tried to escape, maybe I wouldn’t have to keep your restraints?” He treats you like a little pet who doesn’t know what’s good for itself. Only he can decide what’s best for you, only he can truly satisfy your needs.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

After watching you for many months, he already has a plan on how to get you all to himself. He won’t simply ask you out, no, he has to make you need him. He’ll make sure you’re vulnerable, weak and alone when he approaches you. That’s why he killed one of your close friends and blackmailed your boyfriend San to stop contacting you, only for a little while of course, (well, it wouldn’t be long until you were safe and sound in Hongjoong’s home.)

That’s when he slowly approached you at work, telling you that you dropped your phone (which he took from you). He made sure to wear a perfume that he knew you liked, and he had dressed in a way that he knew you found appealing. Of course, you hadn’t broken up with San, but Hongjoong knew how hurt you were when San told you he didn’t have time to talk to you, so he took the opportunity in front of him.

He made you believe he was a new employee at your firm, and made sure you got assigned by your boss to help him a little bit. Hongjoong knew you were drawn in by him. The way your eyes lightened up when you saw him, the way you blushed when he ”accidentally” came a little close to you. And before you knew it, you and Hongjoong were friends. He had a hard time controlling himself, but worked hard to hide his jealousy, adoration and obsession from you.

Hongjoong basically counted the days until he was going to make his ultimate move, and when the day came, he made sure you were extra vulnerable and therefore easily manipulated. He made sure you got a long shift, and that you had had a terrible week, so that you practically couldn’t say no when Hongjoong asked if you wanted to come over to his place and watch a movie, maybe have a sleepover. You both knew that you would cry yourself to sleep if you went home to your own apartment, so you nodded with a happy sigh when he asked.

Hongjoong just smiled contentedly when you finally passed out from the drugs he had put in your drink. He watched as your head fell to his shoulder, and carried you away to your new room while humming a sweet tune. He tied you up completely, and then he just sat there and watched you, waiting for you to wake up and start your new life with him❤️

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Around everyone else, he’s just a sweet, cute little guy who gets along with anyone. He rarely gets close to anyone but you, because he knows his true nature is flawed in other’s eyes, and he always wants to appear perfect to the world around him. He only lets out his powerful and sadistic self when he really needs something, like when he blackmails the people around you to do specific things, or when he has to kill some guy for looking at you in a weird way.

When you first met him and got to know him, you would’ve never guessed that he was like this. But now that you know his true colors, you have a hard time believing any word he says. Only a psychopath can be able to fake a personality that well, that, you’re sure of.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He loves to punish you. He can’t understand why he so deeply craves to see that look on your face when he depraves you of basic human rights, or hear your pathetic cries and begs when he holds a knife to your neck, threatening to cut right into you. Isolation is a punishment that he used sometimes, but he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he enjoys depriving you of privacy.

Basically, it all depends on his mood, and what you’ve done. For the more severe punishments, he’ll keep you locked up and cut you up. He’ll watch the blood ooze out of your veins with a smile on his face. It’s not often that he makes you do things, but when he does, you hate it the most. He might make you eat from a bowl like a dog, getting dragged around on a leash and getting spanks when you disobey.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Again, it all depends on how you act, and if you obey him or not, but you’ll never fully get your rights back. You’ll never get to decide where to go, and you won’t get to meet any of your old friends or family members again. Hongjoong decides who you can meet, and where you can go.

When it’s bad, if you’ve disobeyed him and lost his trust, he won’t let you go anywhere, do anything without his direction. He’ll control your diet, what you wear, when you clean yourself, when you go to bed and even when you can see or talk. Even if you cry in helplessness, feeling like a doll being played with, Hongjoong will only give some rights back when you learn to behave again.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Although Hongjoong’s anger issues can be very apparent at times, and he has a hard time controlling his temper, he has no issue waiting for you. He’ll gladly have you locked up for months, if he believes that it’s worth it. Sure, it can frustrate him when you still don’t realize his love for you, or how much better this life is for you, but it’ll never frustrate him enough to give up on you. He still believes deep down that you’ll learn, no matter how long it takes. You’ll learn just how much you love him, just how right the two of you are for each other.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He checks up on you too often for you to die out of natural causes, and if you were ever to get some life-threatening disease, he would get you the best doctor, because the thought of you dying on him makes him want to end his own life. If you try to take your own life, or risk it in any way, he’ll punish you severely, but also blame himself. You should never want death over him, that’s a sign he’s gone completely wrong.

His system is so perfectly constructed, he has made it practically impossible for you to escape. The cameras, the sensors, there is no way for you to ever escape. If you, in some unspeakable way, manage to escape, Hongjoong might literally go insane, well, if he wasn’t already. He might be considered manic, running around thinking of how to find you. He’ll go to any lengths to get you back, blackmail anyone, kill anyone, anything to get his precious darling back to his safe haven. And when he finally finds you, because he will, he’ll pull you close to him and sob uncontrollably. This would be the first time you’ll ever see him like this, so vulnerable, so emotionally raw.

”My baby, don’t ever leave me again,” he’ll scream and cry, burying his face in your shoulder. You’ll shake in fear, not even wanting to think about what’s going to happen to you now. ”Baby, I was so scared,” Hongjoong sniffles. ”Let’s go home,” he says before kissing you. You wish he would stay like this. Because even though you hate him for all he had done to you, for all the horrible things he had put you through, this version of him almost makes you believe that you can perhaps learn to find enjoyment in the life you have in front of you. Because now you know, you know that you will never see the outside world ever again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He can’t even bear the thought of you not being with him in the future, so him letting you go is completely out of the picture. He might find himself feeling guilty once or twice, but he immediately tries to shake the feeling. After all that planning, all that work to get you here, he can’t feel remorse, he can’t feel sorry. So why does he sometimes find himself feeling sad, thinking about how happy you used to be. He doesn’t actually regret his decision, but at times, he might actually question it.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Hongjoong had always been on his own, for as long as he could remember. He didn’t have any friends as a kid, and that wasn’t because no one wanted to befriend him, but rather because he didn’t want to let anyone get close. He didn’t know why he was like this. Why did he want to hurt the people closest to him? Why did he feel like he craved more than the ”love” he saw around him? He hated the world, he hated how people treated each other, how people could potentially treat him. At one point. Hongjoong was pretty sure he hated every single person on earth. That was, until he found you. There was just something so extraordinary about you, something that showed you weren’t like the rest. That’s why he decided that you needed to be kept safe, he needed you to be his.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Your screams, cries, squirms, moans, tears, squeals and whimpers, that’s what Hongjoong lives for. Seeing you so alive, seeing your emotions so unfiltered, so raw, it makes him feel warm inside. That’s why he can’t handle it when your eyes start to go dull, when you grow more and more numb to the feelings he’s putting you through.

”Why are you doing that?” he’ll ask, examining the look on your face. ”Why do you seem so distant!?” his voice raises. You don’t react, you don’t give him that disgusted look you always give him. You just sit there, eyes not focusing on anything. He’ll make sure to get a reaction out of you, no matter what it takes, because nothing makes his heart clench as much as seeing you like this.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He’s pretty much like a ”classic” yandere: obsessive, abusive, manipulative and basically a psychopath. The one thing he refuses to do though is to sexually assault you. You’re his precious darling, and not even he can lay his hands on you in such a disgusting manner.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He rarely shows any type of weakness to you, so finding one is going to be extremely hard. The one weakness you might be able to exploit (with lots of planning and time being consumed) could be his fear of you becoming emotionally numb. So if you intentionally stop fighting back, stop reacting to him, stop crying and stop acting like yourself, he might be ready to risk it all to get you back. He might not realize that you’re still in there, trying to escape, so he might let you roam the house freely, if he believes it’ll make you come back to him. Perhaps then could you try to find some way to escape, but with the amount of cameras and security systems, it’ll probably be impossible, and just end up with a severe punishment.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Of course he would. No matter how precious he tells you that you are to him, that doesn’t seem to stop his violent tendencies towards you. He hurts you because he loves you, because he needs you to know what’s best for you. He tells you that he only hurts you when it’s necessary, when you need to be disciplined. The longer you stay with him, the more you believe him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He’s not the clingy type (except for when he’s drunk) so don’t expect him to be all over you or anything like that. He acts cold most of the time, and will only warm up to you if you’ve proven yourself worthy. When the two of you eventually have sex for the first time, that’s when you’ll first see him worship you. He’ll cherish every inch of your body, making sure you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He waited for a few months before approaching you, and that was way too long for his own liking, to be honest. What made him snap was seeing that god damn San with you, seeing the love in your gaze, hearing the moans and sounds your boyfriend could draw out of you. That’s when he truly realized, that he needed you to look at him that way, and nobody else.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

No, not completely at least. He never wants to see the life leave your eyes, he never wants you to lose your spark, your personality. That’s what he fell in love with, after all. He’ll gladly manipulate you until you love him, until you need him completely, but not until you lose yourself. If that ever happens, he would never forgive himself.

masterlist

which member should i do next? write a request!

[cute-little-fly]

I love Vassago and want more of him.

That aside.

What could it be?

1. They could be family. After all, they are kinda physically similar and Stella and Andrealphus are brothers and are different kind of birds but similar. Their powers are also similar, Vassago can make light and stars, Stolas is rocks and that star sky thing. So, yeah, that checks.

2. Vassago is Stolas fan for some reason. I added this because I think is funny if Vassago has some kind of one sided parasocial fan thing for Stolas. The confused look of Stolas and the rest of the Goetias when Vassago was hyping Stolas is the only reason I thought about this.

3. Distant crush from younghood but he knew Stolas was arranged to marry and didn’t knew S is gay, so he gave up on that but still has him in high regard and think he deserves to be heard.

4. Distanced friends in high school years (I know they probably don’t go but in royalty they probably have things to prepare young royals).

While I think all these theories people say are interesting… I think that they don’t know each other very well. Similar to how Asmodeus and Stolas adressed themselves. Like, they know each other and have mutual respect but that’s it. They could be close family: brother, cousin or very distanced friends of the past. I would see something happening and maybe Andrealphus getting in the way and preventing them to be friends.

My interpretation and theories about the trial:

Vassago felt identified with the situation itself, and is not just because he is close to Stolas.

I think this because:

Stolas has been very lonely his entire life. However we don’t know anything from his teen years or his early adulthood. So, it could be that in those years they met but I don’t think they were ever close friends, but they caused a good impression to the other.

Stolas is kinda shocked when Vassago says: “ Yes yes Cántalo baby”. I don’t know if he reached like that because of how unexpected the hyping was, or because he doesn’t know him much? I found hilarious he is such a Stolas hype man.

Vassago is very concerned when Blitzø is sentenced to death. He is not as sad and devastated after Stolas lies and confesses, but he is worried and feels something is very wrong.

I feel this moment is very important

This is not brought up much, but he looks very conflicted about this entire situation. If he believed Blitzø trully wanted to murder Stolas and steal the Grimoire he wouldn’t have look so conflicted, and the thing is, he won’t believe anything until he hears Stolas.

This shows:

He thinks the trial should be fair and have both parts.

He thinks Stolas has another different story.

He doesn’t have the same race biases than the rest of the people in the jury and the other Goetias. (Not saying that he is super deconstructed, but at least, has less biases than most).

I will focus in this last point.

The other two people that spoke were Ozzie and Bee. Two people that are romantically involved with lower class demons, and well, obviously Stolas lol.

This could mean that Vassago had a past relationship with an imp or other class demon. This would follow the trend of all the people that spoke and said something.

Also, I have been thinking about this, but Vassago es seemingly a pirate. Piracy besides being related to Stolitz and treasures, is also related to travel far away and leave societal expectations. Is an environment when he could have had a secret partner and nobody would easily know about it if he travels a lot.

The traveling would also explain why he probably is mostly far away and Stolas doesn’t seem him very often.

Apparently Viv has liked a tweet about Vassago seeming to care so much for Stolas, and that it feels personal. And yeah, it does indeed feel personal. It really does make me wonder, why is it so personal to Vassago? What’s his relationship with Stolas?

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am not really an avid Purchaser of Objects but periodically I like to take stock of things I’ve bought that turned out to be excellent quality or worth investing in. here are my favorites:

thousandfell’s women’s lace-up sneakers. vegan leather and insanely comfy. took them as my only pair of shoes on a very walking-intensive trip to japan and south korea and ended up exclaiming aloud many times “god I can’t believe how comfy these are!!” they’ve lasted two full years of heavy wear and are still going strong.

the LL bean women’s mountain classic anorak. this is the only jacket I have ever needed in the PNW. it’s insanely lightweight so it’s perfect for brisk but not too cold days (and also amazing for travel as it folds down so small), BUT it’s also roomy enough that you can layer a sweatshirt under it and comfortably wear it outside in temps as low as 35 degrees. it also has SO MANY HUGE POCKETS which means I can carry everything I need for the dogs and the baby in just my jacket lol. like literally i can fit a bottle and diapers and wipes in it. I own it in two colors and wear it every single day.

able’s mamuye leather tote. I believe this was a rec from sasha? I had been searching high and low for a bag that looked professional for work but was still casual enough to use as an everyday or travel tote too. I wanted something simple, durable, and high quality enough that I could use it for a really long time. I splurged for the kind with a zipper and it was worth it! the one change is I wish it came with an organizer or had a bit more built-in structure. I got a cheap one off amazon which works fine and gives it a nice shape, but idk I might eventually buy the one they sell specifically for this bag. I love this bag so much that every time I see it I gasp inwardly at how beautiful it is and how fancy yet low-maintenance it looks. I think your favorite objects should be so beautiful to you they make your heart happy when you see them and this bag definitely qualifies.

karina dresses. the prints can be hit or miss and sell out pretty fast so you have to jump on the new collection releases when they email you. but almost every work dress I own is from this company and I love them so much. they’re super well made, flattering, and cut in a way that makes them very forgiving if your body (like mine) tends to fluctuate up and down in weight a lot. they are so forgiving that I didn’t have to buy any new maternity clothes for work—I just wore these through my whole pregnancy. the one thing that might not work for everyone: they’re made from a synthetic fabric, which means they never wrinkle and hang-dry very quickly, but also idk I do prefer the feel of cotton or linen or another more breathable natural fiber.

speaking of natural fibers: I also purchased a few skirts and a dress from pact (organic cotton basics) and I really like them so far but don’t yet know how they’ll hold up over time! so they get an honorary mention for now.

the thomasville tisdale sectional. this is the greatest couch ever made. I evangelize for it every opportunity I get. it’s so comfy and so gigantic. you can rearrange the modular pieces to form a very comfortable queen-sized bed if you don’t have a spare room or if you just want to have a really cozy movie night. I’ve had it for three years and it gets a lot of wear and tear with the dogs but it still looks and feels SO nice. plus it’s costco and their insane return policy means that if it falls apart in five years (it won’t) I could almost certainly still take it back and get a full refund. best! giant! couch! ever!!!!

ok that’s it lol everything else I own apart from art and quirky sentimental objects is kinda junk, or is just Fine but not worth writing home about. do you own high quality objects or clothing that you love recommending to other people? if so I want to hear about it.

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. part 2 to this; one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader.

You aren't sure this job is good for you, but you would be miserable doing anything else.

That is the unquestionable truth of the matter. Normal society rejects you, then chews on you and spits you out; and you may have taken a bite as well, bitter as it was. There was an attempt, fresh of finishing high school: it was so corroding to you your only other option was joining the army. When that grew unsustainable, too, KorTac. And you are determined to make it work: the unstable people that work with you mostly irritate you, besides some precious exceptions, but you know how they operate. You know how to cope with them.

But God if they don't make it hard!

“As I said before,” you seethe between your teeth, “Novik was spotted by our squad last week in Pashyk. We have reason to believe he might still be there.”

The lieutenant you’re speaking to just listens with dead eyes. He then blinks, and turns to speak to his squad member again.

“We will go ahead as planned…”

Fuck this shit! Not only you’re forced to work alongside another squad, full of people you don’t know, but you’re also going totally unheard. What even is the point of going after an arms dealer if you’re just going to miss him every time because you’re going to the wrong places?

In the ample debrief space, you turn to protest with your side of the room. Roze doesn’t look thrilled either, having her own recon being dismissed so blatantly. It’s harder to tell what the guys are thinking, with that whole mask business, but Horangi has that battle tension in his shoulder, a sign of unreleased disapproval and anger. König… doesn’t look very different. His posture is straight, he’s not hunching to hear the others better. He could be approving the other plan, for all you know. At the end though, you can’t have too much internal conflict, especially when you know the lieutenant knows the commanding general a good deal. Personal preferences and friendships are even more relevant in a PMC than in the normal army, which is saying something.

“It’s like they thrive on doing the wrong thing,” you vent to them later as you make for the mess, fists closed. The other squad had won the battle of deciding your next step, favoured by the higher ups.

“You tell me,” replies Roze, taking her gloves off as she moves to the food stand. “A full night of work dismissed because of their old info.”

“I say we let them do as they please and just sit on the side. We are still getting paid,” says Horangi as he sheds his mask away. Oh, potato salad… 

“I would rather not catch a stray bullet from them, you know how some of their aims are,” you snicker, looking around to make sure none of them are in hearing range. You grab the cutleries.

“It won’t happen,” states a voice you haven’t heard for some minutes now. König’s. He’s standing next to you, as he does often nowadays.

It’s been some weeks since you’ve slept together. You don’t know exactly how your relationship has changed. All you know is that you’ve found it increasingly hard to insult him often and he clings to you like he’s made of velcro (and you are too). And he stuck to you already before. Despite being tempted, so far you’ve managed to not fall into the trap of giving in to your impulses again– both due to your work demands, but also because you have exerted self restraint. Since you know that König has feelings for you, the poor fool, it’s good that you aren’t leading him on. It’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for him.

Sitting down to eat, you look at König in front of you as he raises his hood to eat. A scowl tugs at your lips, but you distract yourself with food to not think about him. Great, the potato salad is fridge cold as well. And salt less. Could this day even get worse?

“You look stupid,” you say before you can reign it in, pointing at König and his mask. He gulps audibly. Horangi and Roze don’t even mind your insult, as used as they are to them, and keep having their own conversation.

“There’s no way you aren’t getting it dirty, putting it back on every time you take a bite,” you continue, frustrated. There you are again, taking it on König. He should win an award, or fire you.

“You’re right,” he says, tone cheery, “I used to eat in my room so it was cleaner.” The unspoken is so obvious it hits you in the belly, like a well placed punch that takes your breath away. You’re so uncomfortable with the eye contact he’s holding that you look away first.

Why did this have to happen to you. When taken rationally, and without the fumes of lust, what you and König have going on is neither normal nor healthy. He should have a normal companion that elevates and cherishes him, and you should go to something that starts with t and ends with herapy. But no, you’re not going: you went while you were still in the army and it was completely useless and annoying. Plus it’s not even free in KorTac like it was back then.

There’s no other way than to sit down and hope it passes. There’s many women in KorTac; König is a tall and powerful man with a particular kind of charm. Soon hormones will do their part and lead him to other, more well adjusted shores. Far away from you and your unstable moods.

The rest of the afternoon you mope around trying to do something, anything to distract you from your impending mission. You go to the gym and do more series than usual, until your arms burn; you shoot at the range; you beat some poor recruits in hand to hand training; but still it haunts you. It’s both worrying about what you will encounter and anger at being dismissed, unheard. Exacerbating your anxiety is the feeling someone is watching as you walk about the base. You feel eyes on you as you walk through corridors and as you enter rooms. 

The flesh tires before the mind, and so you retreat to your room hoping to sleep at least some hours. Like the internet recommended, you pick up a book to facilitate sleep. See? You can do mental work on your own, no shrink needed. You’re trying to read the same sentence for a minute when someone knocks at your door. You raise your voice as you ask who’s there.

Dogs come back to the place where they’re fed, and much to your chagrin, some men are all dog. And they will scratch at doors.

“It’s me…” a soft voice speaks from the other side. You recognize it immediately and don’t particularly enjoy it being there, but you’ve been trying to get better. So you tell it to enter.

König enters your room like he’s making his way through a mined zone. Not very dissimilar for him when you’re concerned. Still, he lowers his head as he passes through the door and takes some tentative steps. The sound of his boots walking on your carpet is clunky and uncertain. You slide the covers off and sit straight on your bed.

“Is there a problem?” You ask him, neither cold nor warm. You have a hunch he’s not here for any official reason, but you want to hear it from his mouth.

“No, there is no problem,” he rushes to say. You give him no reaction because you already knew that.

Looking at him, so tall and awkward, standing in your room with his hands in front of himself, moves in you something that would have been disgust a month ago. Now it’s something more akin to pity and wanting to strangle him for his way of being. You sigh, already done with his bumbling ways.

“Sit down, will you?” You tell him, and he immediately sits down at the desk chair. It takes a remarkable amount of control to not tell him good boy at that.

“Was it you creeping on me all day?” You ask him directly, like a band aid taken off by surprise. You know the answer to this already as well.

He fiddles a bit with his fingers and then nods, adding a spoken yes on his own. Your eyebrows lower in anger.

“What makes you think that’s a normal thing to do? Seriously, you disgust me at times.” He jiggles his feet, making the chair creak in strain

“I saw you were upset. But I would be making you even more upset, so I thought I would look at you from afar.” His words tumble out of him like the water of a river in flood, like he cannot control his thoughts transforming into spoken phrases.

“I’m not something for you to gawk at.” His attraction to you confuses and upsets you: you cannot understand what you did for him to like you, and maybe that’s what unsettles you. That there’s a whole world out there that sees you and chooses to perceive you in a way you cannot control. Dislike, scorn, indifference: these are reactions you can understand applied to your person, but that König would instead choose to pick like is unbearable. 

“I just wanted to see you were well,” he confesses, his voice soft. For some reason, he keeps digging his grave even deeper. You feel blood rush to your face.

“You’re unbelievable. You hide yourself all the time and I have to be seen and controlled? You’re the most hypocritical person I know.” His head snaps lower now, and you think to yourself this is it. This is the time you get to break his heart completely, that you make yourself unredeemable in his eyes. No longer a fussy creature he can please by doing what she says, but a fully blooded woman that doesn’t deserve his care. Leave her to her devices, his brain should be telling him. This woman is worthless and a constant headache.

Your blood chills in your veins when his hands raise to go to his nape. The fabric of his hood falls in front, a waterfall that stops to reveal the unknown. You find König’s eyes living on a man’s face. 

He’s scarred, that much is true. His nose might have been broken as well. You’re speechless to the fact that he chose to take off his mask, and instead of saying anything dumb, you decide it’s your turn to gawk. His hair is longer than normal in the military, this much you guessed right, and a pleasing auburn that matches his body hair, for as little as you saw them that other time. He looks nervous, and younger than you know he is. Overall, you like his face. It matches his personality: rough in exterior facade, showing that he’s been through a lot, but soft in behavior and gestures. 

“This way,” he manages to let out, “you see me as well.”

This idiot. He’s making you do it again. You’ve really tried, but it’s like he bewitches you.

You jump out of the bed and cross the room in three wide steps. König doesn’t even know what hits him when you’re already sitting on his lap. It’s quite spacious.

“This doesn’t count as an apology for stalking me,” you tell him, inflexible, your legs straddling his. But then you start holding his face in your hands. He looks like you’ve hung the moon for him, and while the sensation is heady, it’s also uncomfortable. You distract yourself from it by kissing him. You start slow, more like nibbling at his lips, uncharted territory. He tries reciprocating, thankfully not using his tongue yet, just pushing his lips against yours, chaste and innocent. You laugh against his mouth and he starts giggling too, a weirdly intimate touch that you weren’t expecting. You’re no longer laughing at him so much as you’re laughing together.

“Follow my lead,” you tell him simply, and he nods, nose brushing against yours. You begin kissing him again, this time for real, your tongue tracing first his lips and then the inside of his mouth. When it slides against his own, you urge him to reciprocate. He does, albeit shyly, but when you start really going at it he gets the hang of it. Truly, an adapting genius. You run your hands in his hair, soft and smooth, while he keeps his hand diligently on your hips, straying neither up nor down. You guess, for his patience again shown when you mistreat him in public, that he deserves a reward of sorts. When your hands move away he makes a strangled sound, but shuts up real quickly when he sees them grab the hem of your t-shirt to take it off. Already braless for bed, your tits go from being completely unknown to him to being in front of his eyes. The expression on his face, unguarded and unrestrained, is almost laughable again, but you’re feeling neglected and you don’t want to turn this into a full bullying session.

“Touch me. Don’t be shy,” you tell him, index finger in front of his lips, and again he nods, resolute. He cups your breast like it’s the holy grail, and that’s exactly what you were afraid of. That you’re an idol instead of a human being to him. Even if it’s a flattering idea.

“I won’t break, you goof,” you berate him but guide him as well, putting your hand over his, showing him how you like to be touched. The other you grab to put on your lower back. Instructed by you, his touches become more real, more vivid; he runs his hand against your side, your hip, then goes back to grope your chest. The sensation makes you move forward, grinding your body against his, and your wet pussy sends a sting of pleasure up your body from the contact against his crotch. König moves to suck your nipple then, now dedicated to covering your chest with care. His suckles are gentle but intense, a motion that is never too rough nor mild; when he is done with one breast he switches to the other without any input, and you smile, ruffling his hair a bit. He looks up at you then, face adorably red and flushed, and moves back to kiss you on the mouth again. Taken by surprise, you emit an embarrassing sound that wakes you up. You break off the kiss, drizzle of spit briefly linking you two, and rush to get off him.

His expressions are so clear now that he’s masked. And right now he’s looking at you like you just burned his house to the ground, sweaty, flushed and miserable. Unable to stand that look on his face, you clear your throat.

“Get on the bed,” you only say, and cringe a bit at the high pitched tone of your voice. König lights up again at your words, like you’ve built his house again and it’s even bigger and more splendid than it was before. He walks with his legs wide, visibly working around his erection, and the sight almost makes you facepalm. Thankfully, you can busy yourself by taking off your pants, doing it so rushedly your thumb’s nail makes a red scratch on your thigh. Watching you from the bed, König starts taking off his clothes. You didn’t tell him to do that but you will grant him this much after turning away from his kiss. He awaits, loyally, sitting on the opposite edge.

“Well? Lay down,” you tell him from the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for the next act. It’s something that you’ve thought about these past days, but to think it will happen now that he’s maskless prickles on your spine. Once you’re done, you turn to see his feet are right next to you, and he’s not quite laying down but more like sitting up with his legs stretched out. These military beds weren’t built for men like König. 

You crawl over to him; you’re not trying to be particularly seductive, but maybe you’re doing it anyway, because his mouth is slightly open, oafish look on his face and all. So irritating– you can’t wait to make it go away. You reach his midsection on all fours, and your hand locks around his cock like you’ve done it a hundred times. He’s leaking all over, the poor thing. His leg twitches: you observe his expression as you pump him a couple of times and, satisfied by it changing to something less stupid, you straddle him again. You’re unsure you can take him without any preparation, but being on top allows you to change your mind quickly. Guiding his cock inside you, you flinch a little at the start and stop midway through, taking a few breaths. You’re plenty wet, and you’ve taken it before, but it’s still a challenge. Thankfully you’re made of stern stuff.

“I’m sorry…” says König, and you could really slap him for saying something this stupid while you’re trying to put his dick in you.

“Don’t be,” you reassure him anyway, huffing. That’s on you for being greedy. Finally, after a while of praying and relaxing and moving a bit after bit, you can take him to base. You sigh as he fills you whole and more, and he moans a contented noise. One of his hands comes to hold your hips, gently, gallantly, as if to say Do what you must and I’ll be there. Readjusting your legs, you start riding him. This has been your plan all along, but the feel of his long, hard cock inside you is more overwhelming than expected, and maybe you’ve missed him just a touch. Moaning, you grasp at his chest, until one of your hands grabs his neck and you dig your nails into the pale strong meat of it. König shouts, a sudden and sharp noise– you grind against his body to give something to your neglected clit. 

“You– you can, hngh, move too you know…” you tell him, out of breath and aching sweetly as you bounce on his cock. You want him to feel involved as well… not like he’s a toy you use to get off. 

“Alright,” he says, smiling at you like he doesn’t have a worry in the world, and you feel an undercurrent of shame again. His heels point on the mattress then, and he starts matching your thrusts from the bottom, the head of his cock reaching a point so far inside you you’re almost certain has never been reached before. Your moans have become needy cries as you match König’s movements, his grunting almost quiet, concentrated on fucking the way you want. Before you know it, two strong arms have bound you by your torso, and your chest makes contact with König’s. He’s holding you, like you’re making love and not taking out frustrations on each other… You could scream, but the change in position and angle has you curling your toes even more, pleasure mounting inside of you. König is panting in your neck, a desperate noise, and you join your arms to hold him, too, his breath hot against your body. Soon enough of his touch, of this spiked beast being tamed by his kindness, you come, letting out a disjointed mewl. Feeling your pussy constrict him even more, König hurries his last strokes, coming inside you with his head in your chest. His rumbling drawl sends rippling tingles all over your body.

You lay there on top of him for a while. Maybe you’re also a bit scared to look him in the eye after kissing and holding him. You reason this is what he’s wanted all along, and maybe you’ve been wanting something along these lines too. Finally, your knees done for, you slide out of him, leaving a mess on your thighs and his, and try to stand but miserably fail, knees buckling. Humiliated, you angrily jump over to lay down next to him. Only you could ruin your post orgasm bliss… all by yourself. Unexpectedly, König speaks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, tone dangerously sleepy. Your bed is not equipped for two grown adults of your size sleeping on it; and your odds are not good against König in your sleep. The chances of you falling off are very high. But since you can’t go anywhere for a while, you might as well oblige him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but snuggle to him before he can do it to you. His hands are greedy now, too: he brushes your hair and your neck and your ass, reverent, back to his worshipping mood. He takes his time exploring your body, blue eyes dragging over the details, your scars, your birthmarks. Embarrassed by his lavish exploration, you hide your head in his neck. You want him to lay down more comfortably, but maybe he prefers this to having his feet hang off.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, but I’m on birth control,” you mutter against his muscles. It’s very stupid to tell him this after he already came in you twice, but considering you’ve sprung it on him very suddenly both times, you cannot blame a guy for not asking.

“I know!” He exclaims instead, joyful. “I heard you saying so to Roze three months and five days ago, in the helicopter!” He taps his long fingers against your back, maybe to the beat of a song or a lullaby, and you shudder. Again, his obsession for you is simply inexplicable. The mean streak returns as your lungs fill, like a cat ready to scratch.

“You’re freaking me out,” you grimace and take your face off from his neck, trying to lay down on your back as much as you can in the limited space, back arched. His laugh is light and airy, reverberating through your simple room. It tugs a smile off you too and it makes you feel like everything will be alright, at work… and maybe with König, too.

[vodika-vibes]

A Choice Made

Summary: When Howzer comes to you in the middle of the night, panicked and frantic, you realize you must make a choice. Of course, the reality is that you made your choice years ago.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x F!Reader

Word Count: 764

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello and Happy New Year everyone! this is my first story of 2025, and sorry if it's not the greatest. I got a new keyboard for Christmas and it's a lot bigger than the one I was using. Anyway! I hope you all like it~

Your home is quiet again.

Howzer, your Howzer, is sleeping peacefully in the bed next to you. He looks peaceful, and you’re glad for it. When he showed up several hours ago, he had been filled with a frantic energy that, frankly, worried you.

But a hot dinner and a warm shower did wonders to settle him, at least enough that he could explain what sent him to you in such a rush.

And that is why you’re still awake. 

His words echo through your mind even now. 

“The Empire knows about you. They’ll use you as a weapon against me. We need to leave.”

You knew this was a possibility when you agreed to date him all those years ago. And you knew the threat to you would only increase when you agreed to marry him.

But things had been so peaceful, even with everything going on in the core, so you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be okay. You’ve always been good at lying to yourself.

You shift in the bed and focus your attention back on Howzer, your fingers gentle as they comb through his hair. He doesn’t even stir.

It’s a testament to just how stressed and tired he is. 

He stirs as your fingers fall to the scar on his cheek, and his pretty eyes flutter open, sleepiness vanishing in a heartbeat when he sees you sitting against the headboard.

“What’s wrong?”

And, despite the seriousness of the situation you’ve found yourself in, a smile lifts your lips. That’s your husband, always alert for any danger directed towards you. “Nothing,”

He sits up and shifts so that he’s leaning against the headboard as well, and then coaxes you into his arms. Something you’re only all too happy to do. You always feel safest when wrapped in his arms after all.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“I was thinking.”

He pulls you so that you’re sitting on his lap, and one of his hands comes up to press against your cheek. Immediately you close your eyes and press your cheek against his hand, rubbing your cheek against his rough palm. 

“Are you considering staying here?” Howzer asks, his voice quiet.

“No, of course not.” You slide your arms around his neck, “My place, Howzer, is by your side. You know that.”

“I’m asking a lot from you, cyare.”

“You’re not asking anything that I won’t happily give.” You press your forehead against his, “I was thinking of the logistics of moving. About where to go and how to get there.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m going to handle everything.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to.”

“Yes. I do.”

He sounds so convinced of this, that you pull back to stare at him, “Howzer?”

“You…” he trails off, and then a small smile lifts his lips and he pulls you into a gentle kiss. “I love you, so much. You know that?”

You blink at him, “Well, I would hope so. You did marry me, after all.”

“I did. And it remains the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Howzer replies with a small smile, “And you…you’re the daughter of the Organa Family—”

“Distantly. I’m distantly related to the Organa family—” You remind him.

He ignores you, “And you came to Ryloth in the hopes to stop slavers from kidnapping the twi’leks and you set up a center to help former slaves adjust to being free,” Howzer trails off again, his expression soft as he looks at you, “You would have been well within your rights to tell me to go to hell when I asked you out. But you didn’t. You agreed. And kept agreeing.”

“You make it sound like it was a crazy thing,” You reply.

“It was a crazy thing. And it’s even crazier that you said yes when I asked you to marry me.” Howzer says with a grin, “But I’m asking you to abandon your life’s work. So let me take care of everything. Please.”

You sigh softly, “If you insist.”

“I do.” Howzer trails his lips down your face, “Assuming, of course, you choose to come with me.”

“You silly, silly man.” You shift on his lap so you’re straddling him, and press your hands against his cheeks, “I made my choice. Years ago. You’re my choice. No matter where you lead me.”

Howzer stares at you for a moment, and then he pulls you into a deep kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Silly,” You reply against his lips, “I made that choice years ago too.”

@kimiheartblade

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@bb8-99

@falconfeather23435

@dukeoftheblackstar

@continous-mistakes

@0revna0

@trixie2023

@mira-loves-star-wars

@adriennelenoir

@rebell-ious

@silly-starfish

@heidnspeak

@maniacalbooper

@padawancat97

@justiceandwar98

@bekah_curlygirl

@cdblake1565

@cc--2224

@omegaprime18

@wax-birds

@msmeredithrose

@tiredbi-peach

@badbatch-bitch

@sweater-sloot

@etod

@bekahcurlygirl

@lonewolflupe

@bad4amficideas

@clones-cyare

@kiss-anon

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#3 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology | 800 words

previous next series masterlist

22nd  May, 1996

You’re probably one of the worst customers Toji’s ever had. 

Perfect Princes Escort Services placed their escorts hierarchically. At the top of the food chain were the Gojo-Geto pair, so high in demand they could pick their own customers and set their own prices. Perhaps Nanami could’ve asked for the same benefits if he hadn’t demanded that 401 (k) instead. 

Newcomer runts like Toji sat snug on the bottom rung. You were actually his first high-paying customer, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s really worth it. 

“So, tell me about your family back home, Toji-kun.” The candlelight from the romantic dinner table reflects the burning curiosity in your eyes. “Got any siblings?”

Like hell I’d tell ya. 

“Don’t have either, miss.” Toji forks a mussel open and dumps it all over his spaghetti. He doesn’t bother plastering a polite smile on. He has no incentive to: you’ve already made the mistake of pre-paying for 10 days, and he highly doubts that you’ll extend the contract with him any longer. Nanami once told him– when moderate efforts do the job, moderate efforts are all you should put in– and Toji decided to brand it into his heart. 

He’s very invested in spiral-mixing his shellfish into his spaghetti when the sound of you scoffing cuts into him. 

You scoffed at him. You scoffed. At him. 

Red-hot rage flashes to his skull before reason has a chance to. Triggered instinct– white knuckle grip bending the fork– shoulder tightened in anticipation of an arm drawn to sma–

“Like I’d believe that.” Unaware of the danger you’re in, you’re smiling so sweetly at him. No condescension, no ill meaning. “You know your forks, you weren’t raised in a barn.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your tastes are dogshit, who mixes oysters and pasta? But even when you’re not trying, your dinner table etiquette is so proper. You leave your dinner fork on your plate and pick your oyster with the oyster fork, you keep your wine glass diagonally to your left, you know the difference between a bib and a lap-napkin. I bet you’ll eat the dessert with the tiny spoon too, O Prince Toji.” 

No longer a weapon, the fork returns to its duty of gingerly shovelling food to Toji’s mouth while you add, “And we don’t even use forks that much. You were raised into money then. Let me guess, a runaway second son of a renowned clan who fell into debt or drugs?”

For a long time, the only sounds are of the cutlery scraping the china. A habitually thoughtless speaker, you slowly sink into a mortified guilt of touching a nerve not meant to be exposed to the air. I was only joking around (that’s quite a horrible apology) or maybe Geez, I didn’t think you'd be so sensitive (even worse). After all these years, apologies are still so hard for you to manage. So you just slip this one word out: “Sorry.”

Toji doesn’t look at you. “Think you’re so smart, knowing so much about me, huh? I know about you too.” 

“Like what?”

“No,” he shakes his head glumly. He’s not angry exactly, more like the topic provokes like a popped blister. “You’ll complain to my boss.”

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“Fine, then.” And he sets his stoneheavy eyes on yours. They're deep green, you notice, the colour of an old lake. “These aren’t oysters.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s a fucking mussel. I don’t know how you can confuse the two.” He picks an unopened one up and pries it open with a nail. “See? It’s so much smaller and thinner than an oyster. Oysters taste like strong salty boogers, but mussels–” He scoops the flesh out, drops a bit of marinara on it and hands you the fork. It’s good, you realise, the gentle flavour of the mussel carrying the pasta sauce well. “–Mussels taste like the ocean.” 

A minute passes as you chew, apology taking shape on the tip of your tongue: “I’m sorry I got too much.” 

“Apologise for shitting on my taste in food too.” 

“Fine, Toji-kun, I’m sorry I called your tastes dogshit. Maybe shellfish and pasta do go together.” 

“That’s right, miss.” He cocks his head to the side, grinning like a troublemaker. “I wouldn’t expect you new money to know about delicate tastes that much.” 

And you can’t help smiling as well. “That easy to read?”

“I’m just observant.” He taps his temple. “Your family wasn’t poor but you struggled sometimes, you’re actually left handed but you trained your right hard to work too, so now you’re ambidextrous, you had two younger siblings possibly sisters, you don’t actually like either spaghetti or mussels, you over-steep your tea, your watch is 19 seconds late, you have a rash on your left thigh, you need to moisturise your hands more and learn to blend your foundation into your neck, and your family died recently.” He leans back against the chair and burps. “There, we’re even now.” 

You’re left gaping at him. 

“... Anything else, Toji-kun?”

“You have pasta in your teeth.” 

Toji left the second session with a distinct sense of victory.

previous next series masterlist

a/n: pancakes are the bane of my existence. they taste just fine without putting things on top (not too sweet is the best compliment) but noooo you just have to ruin it with syrup or butter. and then u have to cut it with a fork and knife. its useless, its wasting fucking time. my hands could just hold it like a burger and finish the whole ordeal quick, even chopsticks maybe if they're not too heavy. fork and knife is decidedly the worst way to eat pancakes.

[iliketangerines]

a battle of the egos

a/n: the two of them would fight about it like dogs let's be fr

pairing: kano x afab!reader x johnny

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, finger fucking, slight overstimulation, eager Kano, slightly mean Johnny

you can’t believe you’re stuck in an actual dick-measuring contest

but you suppose sticking two of the most egotistical men you’ve ever met in your life in a cramped hotel room while on a mission wasn’t the smartest decision

it’s not like you had volunteered to be here, General Sonya Blade hadn’t wanted to deal with them themselves (understandably), but then she had given the assignment to you

you’re still reeling over the fact that the Black Dragon and the Special Forces even have a temporary truce to track down a group that’s been giving the both of you trouble, but it’s given you more trouble than it’s worth having to balance out the arrogance of both Kano and Johnny Cage

at this point, you think your body might actually shrivel in on itself from the way the two of them are glowering at each other, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listen to the metal of their belts clink

even worse, the hotel only had one bed available in the already cramped room with a less than proper mattress and an even more suspicious looking couch

“so, luv, who’s got the bigger dick?” Kano’s voice cuts through your line of thought, accent as thick as the hair on his chest, and you scowl at the both of them

“seriously? are you-oh my god.” you cover your eyes for a moment as the both of them whip out their dicks as if they’re swords

this is an absolutely ridiculous situation, Sonya owes you a big fucking favor when this mission is over

“c’mon sweetheart, it’s not like you’ve never seen one before.” this time Johnny eggs you on to look, and you feel heat crawl up the back of your neck

so, you’ve never actually seen a dick in real life before

that isn’t to say you aren’t skilled with a toy on yourself, but you’ve always been too far engrossed in your work to manage a relationship long enough to reach that level

besides, you had heard the horror stories that men are pretty shit in bed anyway, so you didn’t think you were missing out on much

silence fills the room for too long, and you hear Johnny suck in a sharp breath at the realization

“are ya kiddin’? you’ve never actually seen a cock before?” a laugh escapes from Kano, and you scowl from behind your hand as he continues to taunt you, “what, ya scared or something? don’t worry, i won’t bite, not unless you ask.”

you can already hear the infuriating smirk behind his smile, and as much as you hated their pride, yours was just as big

taking a breath and turning back around, you steel your nerves and bring your hand down into your lap and try not to seem too embarrassed as you glare at the both of them

heat still burns across your face even as you scowl, and your manage to drag your eyes down to where they’ve got the front of their pants unzipped and their dicks pulled out

Kano, unsurprisingly, sports quite the bush down there, and he’s thick, thicker than any toy you’ve ever used on yourself, and he, surprisingly, is uncut and looks quite clean for a man with his reputation

“oi, don’t look so surprised, i’m not risking an infection down there.” Kano almost seems offended, his mechanical red heart seeming to glow with anger, and you raise your hands up in surrender

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” you roll your eyes and close them for a moment, just to try and shake off the embarrassment of not just looking but observing someone’s dick, and you take another break before you open your eyes to compare his to Johnny’s

Cage, unsurprisingly, is as hairless as his chest, and he’s not quite as thick as Kano, but he’s cut and a bit longer

“well, i mean, Cage has the longer dick, so he wins. now, can you please put them away.” you turn your gaze away, and as an extra security measure, you put your hand up to shield whatever is left of your dignity

“ha! i knew it!” there’s the telltale sound of a zip coming up from his pants, and you can hear the triumph in Cage’s voice

“whatever, length doesn’t matter when it comes to pleasure.” there’s a bit of a grumble from Kano, a hint of a challenge, and your back stiffens

please, please, please, you are begging internally for Cage to not take the bait because you don’t think you can take any more of their cockfighting anymore

“excuse you. i bet i’ve made more people cum than you ever will.” Johnny took the bait, you’re officially going to go insane

“ha! as if! all you’ve got going is your looks.” “it’s not like you can do any better.”

you tune out their squabbling as they start to resort to petty insults, and you bury your face into your hands

absolutely ridiculous, maybe you would be better sleeping out on the highway because then you could get away from the two of them

maybe if you go back to the front desk and beg, you could get a room by yourself and let the two of them fight it out by morning

the sharp call of your name startles you out of your thoughts, and you look up from your hands to the both of them

“me or him?” Johnny looks at you expectantly, and you flick your gaze back to Kano and then to him again

“what?”

“it’s not that hard, luv,” Kano rolls his eye at you and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “who do ya think is the better lover: me or him?”

for a second, you think your mind has short circuited or that you've teleported to a different timeline, and you stare at the two of them blankly

“you want me,” you point at yourself, “to judge which one of you is the better lover.”

“are you both stupid? why would i know that? i’ve never slept with anyone let alone with the two of you.” the two of them stare at you, and Johnny has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as you scoff

Kano scratches at his beard, and you feel something shift in your stomach when a smirk crawls over his face and he starts to walk toward you

“well, we can fix that, can’t we?” Kano leans over you so that his nose bumps against yours, and your jaw drops open on its own volition

partly because you’re offended by his proposition that he would assume you would want to sleep with the both of them and mostly because you’re angry that he’s right

you sputter, words coming and failing to organize themselves into anything comprehensible as Kano simply leans in closer to you so that you can feel the scruff of his beard rub against the shell of your ear

“whaddya say, luvie? wanna go for a round with the both of us?” out of the corner of your eye you can see Johnny shift on his feet, almost as if he seemed interested in the proposition as well

Kano pulls back from you, a smirk on his face as he grabs one of your hands into one of his own and brings it up so that he can kiss the back of your knuckles

“i-um, uh-” you still can’t manage to find the words, syllables and sentences and feelings weighing down your tongue as your mind frantically tries to pull itself back together

it’s not as if you’re completely opposed to it, as big as their egos are, they existed for a reason, and you suppose that the both of them aren’t terrible options for your first time

if you exclude the fact that Kano is a wanted mercenary in most countries around the world

“well, look, don’t let Kano pressure you into anything here.” Johnny stands next to Kano, shouldering the mercenary to the side so that he has to let go of your hand

his hand comes to rest on your knee, hesitating for a brief second as if testing the waters, to see if you really were okay with the two of them being here with you

“i mean, well,” you can feel your ears and your face burn as arousal pools at the bottoms of your stomach, “i wouldn’t be…opposed to the idea.”

Kano smirks and rushes toward you first, his hand shoving Johnny back to the side while he lends down so that he can kiss you first

a squeak rushes out of you from how absolutely hasty he is, the roughness of his beard rubbing along your skin as his lips crash into yours

it’s almost painful how quick he is, teeth slightly clacking together as his hand hold onto you, one at the back of your neck and the other squeezing at your waist, and he seems almost desperate for this, to kiss you

he moans, something deep and guttural, into your mouth, his eyelashes tickling at your cheek they flutter close, and your hands grip onto his shoulders as you feel yourself be swept away into his eagerness

Kano grips on tighter to you, tilting his head slightly to try and kiss you deeper, as if he could mold himself into you, and he squeezes at the back of your neck

it makes you let out a small sound as your mind goes slightly fuzzy, and his tongue laps at the space of your lips

and yet still, he is somehow not close enough to you, and he finally drops his weight onto you

your body falls back onto the bed, and your legs wrap around his waist while your hands hook underneath his arms so that you can dig your nails into his back as he continues to kiss you

his mechanical heart digs into your chest, but the feeling is negligible to how his beard scratches at your face, drawing your attention back to his lips every time

he groans as his hips buck forward, grinding you against him, and you whimper into his mouth as it provides the delicious friction that you had been searching for

Kano pulls away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, and he trails his head down to mouth at your neck, his fingers rubbing your chest through your shirt

“fuck, you don’t know just how long ‘ve wanted this.” his words are mumbled, barely audible as you whine whenever his teeth nip into your sensitive skin

his fingers find your nipples through your shirt, and he pinches them roughly, drawing a yelp from your lips as your hands go to scratch at his back

a loud moan echoes from him at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, and his teeth sink into your neck while his hips rut into yours lazily

“fuck, please, please Kano.” you squirm and gasp as you grind down on him, trying to get more friction on your aching clit, anything to try and relieve the pleasure

he doesn’t say anything, only a low groan answering you, and he flits his eyes to Johnny in the corner and shoots a wink to the actor

Cage has his brows furrowed, gaze firmly fixed on to your face and the way that sweat has started to shine on your forehead

he wishes he could be there instead of Kano right now, the one trailing kisses down your chest, the one lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to bite at your lower stomach, the one pulling off your pants and seeing your pussy glisten with need

if it were up to him, he would tease you a bit longer, mark your neck up a little more just to draw those sweet begging noises from you

his dick twitches in his pants, but Johnny ignores it and simply crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for his turn

you don’t notice the jealousy emanating from Cage, lost in how Kano’s sharp teeth dig into the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rips small desperate mewls from your throat

your hands have shot down to his hair, pulling and tugging at the short strands, and Kano groans at the feeling, finally putting his tongue to good use

he licks a wide strip up your pussy, friction flying along your clit and to your brain, pleasure imploding behind your eyes as you whine

the sounds between your legs is lewd, loud slurping and deep moans, almost bordering on a growl as Kano worships your cunt

his tongue is wide and flat along your clit, and one hand grips on tightly to your thigh, fingerprint bruises guaranteed to be there tomorrow as a reminder of tonight

his other fingers slap at the inside of your thigh as you try to close them and buck your hips away from his face

it’s somehow too much and not enough at the same time, and it feels different from all those times you had taken time to pleasure yourself

this feels more primal, more intense, something that builds a pressure inside of you until it felt like you could burst at any moment

words have all but left your mind, only helpless pleas and calls of Kano’s name as he slides two fingers into your drooling pussy

he curls them upward at the same time as his lips suck on your clit, and you whine loudly, hips bucking against his face and your back arching off the bed as you cum

Kano doesn’t let up, letting you ride his face as he sucks your clit and continues to rub his fingers against that one spot, and you feel like you’re going insane as the pleasure starts to build up again too quickly after the last one

a large hand clasps onto the back of Kano’s neck, essentially scruffing him, and Cage pulls Kano away from you, your body falling down onto the sheets and trembling as you try and process the pleasure racing through your body

“oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kano snaps at Johnny, lips curled down into a frown and a sneer on his face, and Johnny scowls back and throws Kano back away from you

Cage wants a taste of you for himself, something clenching at his heart as he looks at your arousal and cum smeared along Kano’s face and beard

he doesn’t explain himself as he lays down where Kano had been a moment ago, his lips moving to work along your leg, leaving gentle kisses along your skin as you pant

his arms go to move underneath your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he kisses along the length of him, and he feels you squirm and your fingers tug at his hair in an effort to give you what you want

“patience, sweetheart.” it’s all he says as he continues to kiss along your thighs, moving to your other one first before even thinking about touching your pussy

Kano seethes at Johnny’s side, jealous of how you seem more needy, more desperate for Johnny as he continues to deny you your pleasure

patience had never been Kano’s strong suit, eager to demonstrate his skills to you and make you cum on his tongue and his fingers, but you couldn’t blame him

you vexed Kano, one playful banter after the next whenever you had met in the past during battle, and for some reason, it had drawn him to you

none of the other Special Forces even bothered to talk to him, more focused on capturing or killing him, but you conversed with him, talked with him

in his own head, it felt like you cared for him, even if he was the enemy, and strangely enough, he felt safe with you, a feeling he hadn’t really had for the better part of two decades

to see you come apart for Johnny, Kano hated it, despised it as Cage finally placed a kiss onto your needy clit and drew a loud whine from your lips

your fingers tug at his cropped hair uselessly, trying to find any purchase as your lips let warbling moans and cries fill the air, and your hips desperately tries to grind against Johnny’s face as his tongue slides along your folds

his arms keep your hips pinned in place however, only letting you take the pleasure that he gives you, and it makes you needy and pathetic as you start to beg

“please, please, Johnny, mmng aannh, pl-please!” your cries grow in volume as Johnny ignores you, doing everything but touch your clit, and he watches as it slightly twitches

a small smile plays on his lips as he lays his tongue along the inside of your thigh and then nips at the skin, “please what? can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask.”

you want to sob, unable to really form a coherent sentence in your head as Johnny continues to tease you, and your tongue seems to twist on itself on you try and speak

“wan’ wanna cum, please, please, i want to cum!” hot tears finally escape your eyes, and you can distantly hear Kano stifle a groan at the sight of you so ruined underneath Johnny

as much as he despised Cage, Kano had to admit that his patience made this experience much more enjoyable to watch

Johnny practically purrs as you beg, and he moves one of his hands to lift up the hood your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard

it’s all too much at the same time, and you cum on his face as your hips buck and grind against his face and your sobs fill the air

his tongue presses flat long licks against your clit as your orgasm washes away, and your chest falls in uneven breaths as your body shakes

“you alright, luv?” Kano’s warm hand cradles your cheek, and you hum, eyes fluttering open to stare at his

Johnny watches through squinted eyes as Kano comes to coddle you, glaring at how he brushes a hair out of your face, and Johnny lets out a displeased grunt at the sight

he presses a kiss along the inside of your thigh before resting his cheek on it and looking up at you with a cheeky smirk, “so, who did it better?”

your mind still spins as you blink down at Johnny in confusion, “huh?”

“who made you feel better, me? or him?” Kano runs his fingers through your hair, eyes concentrated onto the nape of your neck where he had left the imprint of his teeth

“uh, um, i don’t-” you still feel heavy, clouded from both of your orgasms, and you whimper as Kano’s hand drifts down to rub along the bite mark he gave you, “-i don’t know.”

Kano’s lips pull into a grimace, a pang of jealousy running through his heart that he hadn’t really done any better than Johnny, and Johnny looks equally as disappointed at the verdict before a sly smile reappears on his face

“i guess we’ll just have to keep going until you decide, hm?” Johnny doesn’t give you a chance to answer before his tongue is back on you, lapping at your arousal and cum as a whine peals out of you, overstimulation starting to kick

for once, Kano agreed with Johnny, his eyes raking over the skin of your body as your eyes cloud with pleasure

neither really wanted the other to win, especially not if it meant they could spend the whole night with you like this

[dreamcsc]

dialogue prompts ᢉ𐭩

go back to navigation!

feel free to use when requesting (not obligated)! MORE TO BE ADDED!!

1. “When the time comes, when it happens, promise me one thing?”

2. “You think I wanted this to happen? You think *I*, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

3. “I never thought I'd see the day you'd stoop this low.”

4. “As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.”

5. “You can yell at me later. Just let me help you.”

6. “Why do you act like you're the only one with feelings?”

7. “This isn’t over. You always come running back and I always welcome you.”

8. “Ah, so you aren’t heartless after all.”

9. “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

10. “You’re the worst. And you’re all I’ve got.”

11. “I'm not sure what you're doing later, but I'm hoping it's me.”

12. “I want you. All of you, and not just half-heartedly, *wholly*. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care.”

13. “No, I don’t hate you. We’re not there, yet.”

14. “How does it feel to not get your way?”

15. “What are you trying to achieve here?”

16. “It hurts when I realize I’ll never mean that much to someone.”

17. “Do you want to go out?… Don’t think in a twisted way.”

18. “There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think of you and it’s starting to hurt.”

19. “If I was throwing things at you in my mind, you’d feel it.”

20. “This is a very big favor you’re asking. It looks more like a sacrifice.”

21. "You're doing all you can, that's all anyone can ask of you.”

22. “Are you jealous? Want me all to yourself, do you?”

23. “Find someone else to listen to your problems.”

24. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

25. “If tomorrow comes anyway, will you be there?”

26. “Kiss me like you’ll never forget me.”

27. “Your mind is the darkest place I’ve ever been to.”

28. “Just stay. We can figure everything else out later. Right now, just *stay*.”

29. “Why do you always insist on seeing the worst in people?”

30. “I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know…fall in love with me.”

31. “I would say we kind of have the same goal. We just take very different approaches.”

32. “The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

33. "It's fine, shout if you need. Just let it all out.”

34. “You can sleep now. I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.”

35. “You can’t have her/him and it’s killing you inside.”

36. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were an expert in everything.”

37. “When you touch me I feel a little less broken.”

38. “You have to promise me that you won’t fall in love with me.”

39. “I only ever thought there were two kinds of love: The kind you would kill for, and the kind you would die for…but you, my darling, you were the kind of love I would live for.”

40. “There are shooting stars in your eyes, and every time I look at you, I make a wish to be able to kiss you one last time.”

41. “Can you just…hold me? Just for tonight.”

42. “Truth is, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

43. “You have my heart. I don’t think I could get it back even if I wanted to.”

44. “Why not be angry? Anger is better than tears, better than grief, better than the guilt.”

45. “You’re most likely to steal my heart, does that count?”

46. “It's not my fault you can't handle the truth.”

47. “I don't usually believe in love/hate at first sight, but I'm willing to make an exception for you.”

48. "You're not going to believe who just walked in the door.”

49. "I'm sorry, but I can't be the person you want me to be.”

50. “I know this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.”

51. “Even if I could stop it, I wouldn’t.”

52. “What makes you think it was an accident?”

53. “Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to make out?”

54. “Don’t hate me for this. You would’ve done the same.”

55. “In your *very* words, ‘lying never did anyone any good.”

56. “My bad, I didn't realize that your way was the only right way to do things.”

57. “I know we've had our differences, but can we put them aside and work together on this?”

58. “I don't think I can keep up with your expectations anymore.”

59. “We both know this will be the first time and the last time we ever attempt this.”

60. “Time. It’s the one thing that you can never get back.”

61. “You put yourself in that position! That wasn’t my doing!”

62. “Don’t wish me the best, you were my best everything.”

63. “Why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel like she/he/it broken my soul?”

updated: 2025.01.05

[hunterofartemis7]

Adopted by the gods AU pt.17

Athena: *drops Diomedes at Argos palace, his grandfather (who totally was possibly alive at that point) waiting for him*

Diomedes:…do I have to go?

Athena: unfortunately My son…

Diomedes: mother I don’t know him!

Athena: Diomedes…

His grandfather: lady Athena..if I may?

Athena:…*nods*

Grandfather: *crotches down to his level* I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I wish I could’ve prevented your father from doing what he did, and could’ve raised you. I’m so sorry I didn’t get that chance, but I’m hoping you’ll trust me like you did your mother. *motions at athena*

Diomedes:…..*steps back and holds Athena’s hand, trying to hide in her wings* I want to stay with mother…

Grandfather: *sighs* I know…and I wish you could. She had informed me of your time with her and I wish it didn’t have to be cut short…but you can’t defy lord Zeus.

Diomedes: *looks up at athena* mother….🥺

Athena: *trying not to cry* I’m sorry my son..

Diomedes:…*hugs her legs and cries into her side*

Athena: *crotches down and hugs him close*

Diomedes: I love you…😭

Athena: I love you too my son....* let’s go and kissed the top of his head* I will be back, whenever you need me.

Diomedes: promise?

Athena: I swear on the River Styx

Diomedes: *one last hug, than goes inside with his grandfather*

Athena:……*wipes the tears off her face and takes Odysseus to Ithaca*

Anticlea: *waiting at the doors of the palace*

Athena: *glares at her*

Odysseus: *clings to athena*

Anticlea: I’m sorry….i really am. I wanted my son back as much as any mother would, but I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.

Athena: somehow I don’t believe you.

Anticlea: *sighs* fine, don’t. Now please hand over my son.

Odysseus: IM NOT YOUR SON!!

Anticlea:….

Odysseus: *crying into Athena’s side*

Athena: *brings them into quick thought*

Odysseus: mama don’t make me go with them!

Athena: trust me, I don’t want to! If father didn’t threat to make it impossible for me to ever see you or your brother again I would’ve told him to shove it!

Odysseus: l hate this

Athena: I know…believe me I know.

Odysseus: and what if I don’t stay here? What if I run away?

Athena: you don’t think father thought of that? He’ll either strike you down or send his eagles after you.

Odysseus: this isn’t fair! All the other gods get to be happy and keep their kids why can’t you!?

Athena: *starting to tear up*…I don’t know..

Odysseus: but you know everything!

Athena: well I don’t know this!! I know the fates can fucking suck sometimes and unfortunately this is one of those times!

Odysseus: *crying* mama please…I don’t want to leave..I don’t want to be king!

Athena: *wipes the tears off his face* I know…but you won’t be alone. I’ll be here everytime you call for me, same for your brother. This ain’t goodbye forever…more of a see you later..

Odysseus: I wish I didn’t have to “see you later”. I want to just stay with you!😭

Athena: *hugs him one more time* I know…believe me I know. *brings them out of quick thought*

Odysseus: *pulls a small owl necklace out of his pocket and gives it to Athena*

Athena: *confused owl sounds* what’s this?

Odysseus: it’s so no matter where we are, we’re always together. *shows a matching one he’s wearing* I gave one to Diomedes before you took him to Argos

Athena: *holding back tears and puts it on* thank you my son..

Odysseus: …..*one last hug* bye mama

Athena: *hugs* goodbye Odysseus…

Odysseus:..*let’s go and walks to Anticlea*

Anticlea: *smiles ready to hug him*

Odysseus: don’t touch me… *walks right passed her*

Anticlea:….*glares at Athena and follows him inside*

Athena: *flies back to Olympus*

Aphrodite: *waiting in Athena’s room* …Thea?

Athena: *immediately breaks down sobbing*

Aphrodite: *goes over to her and holds her, letting her cry* sshhh..I know….i know it hurts

Athena: I fucking hate this….😭😭

[makeucrawl]

PRIESTERMAN

COYLE

NSFW

YES FATHER

“Kneel for me”

Father Easterman fucks Coyle in a church~

((Coyle is kinda OOC in this. I was too into priest easterman okaaaay???? Also this is incredibly long cause I’ve been thinking about priest easterman waaaaay too much.))

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you, Leland?” The voice was low, soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the stillness of the confessional like a blade.

Coyle’s heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears as his fingers dug into the edge of the wooden bench beneath him. His throat tightened, his mouth dry, the air in the small space suddenly too thick. He couldn’t see Father Easterman through the lattice screen, but he felt him—his presence filling the confined space, oppressive and inescapable.

He tried to respond, but his voice failed him, leaving only the sound of his shaky breathing. Swallowing hard, he finally forced out, “I… dunno what ya mean, Father.” The words came out trembling, unconvincing.

A low chuckle drifted through the screen, rich and knowing. “Don’t lie to me, Leland. I saw the way you looked at me during Mass. The way your eyes lingered on my hands when I placed the Eucharist on your tongue.”

Coyle’s face burned, the heat spreading to the tips of his ears. He wanted to protest, to deny it, but he couldn’t. The memory of those hands—graceful, deliberate—had haunted him ever since.

Those fingers, pushing the wafer into place, forcing his throat to flex as he swallowed. And now, here they were, alone in the dim light of the confessional, and all Coyle could think about was how badly he wanted those same fingers wrapped around his cock.

“I…” Coyle’s voice cracked, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his hands trembling. “I know it’s…wrong, Father. That’s why I’m here. To confess.”

Silence followed, heavy and expectant. For a fleeting moment, Coyle dared to hope the priest might let it go, offer absolution, and dismiss him with penance. But then Father Easterman spoke again, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

“Tell me, Leland… What do you think of when you look at me?”

The question struck him like a blow, stealing the breath from his lungs. Coyle froze, shame and panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t answer that—not truthfully. Not here. And yet, the priest’s tone, calm and coaxing, pulled at something deep within him, urging him to speak.

“I… I can’t, Father,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Another chuckle, darker this time, laced with something almost predatory. “You can’t, or you won’t? Remember, God already knows your thoughts, Leland. There’s no hiding from Him. But saying it aloud… that’s how you unburden your soul.”

The air felt charged, the space between them humming with tension. Coyle’s breathing quickened, his body leaning unconsciously closer to the screen. His mind raced, battling the shame and the overwhelming desire to let the words out.

“I’ve thought about… your hands,” he admitted finally, his voice hoarse, trembling. “On me. Touching me- I’ve thought about you telling me what to do. Making me kneel for you…”

The confession tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His entire body tensed, bracing for the priest’s condemnation. But the silence that followed was not cold or angry. It was something else—something thick, weighted, and charged with unspoken intent.

And then he heard it: a sharp, audible inhale on the other side of the screen.

“Is that so?” Father Easterman murmured, his tone laced with a quiet amusement, almost teasing. “Tell me more, Leland. What other sinful thoughts have you entertained?”

Coyle’s stomach twisted, his arousal warring with his guilt. He couldn’t believe he was saying these things out loud—especially here, of all places—but now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I’ve imagined… your mouth on me- o-on my cock.. Taking me deep until I… until I spill down your throat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and forbidden, and Coyle immediately wished he could take it back. He felt exposed, raw, his deepest desires laid bare for the priest to dissect.

For a long moment, Father Easterman said nothing. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer to the screen, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“And what if I told you, Leland, that I’ve thought about you, too?”

Coyle’s breath caught, his entire body going rigid. What was that? His mind reeled, struggling to process the words.

But before he could respond, the latch on the confessional door clicked open, and the priest stepped inside, his tall, lithe frame filling the cramped space.

Coyle’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of him—the stark black of his clerical dress, the white collar pressed against his throat, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light filtering through the screen.

Father Easterman reached out, his long, delicate fingers trailing along the line of Coyle’s jaw before sliding down to grip his chin firmly.

“Open your mouth,” the priest commanded, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for argument.

Coyle obeyed without hesitation, his lips parting instinctively. Father Easterman’s thumb brushed against his lower lip, cold and calloused, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Such a good boy,” the priest murmured, his dark eyes gleaming with something that made Coyle’s stomach flip. “Now, let’s see if you can take me as well as you’ve imagined.”

Coyle’s pulse throbbed in his ears, his entire body trembling as Father Easterman leaned in closer, his free hand tangling in Coyle’s hair, pulling just enough to make him moan.

“Remember,” the priest whispered, his breath hot against Coyle’s ear, “this is your penance.”

The air in the confessional was thick, suffocating, and charged with something Coyle couldn’t name—something sinful, electric, and entirely too real. His lips were still parted, waiting, trembling, as the priest loomed over him, a shadow of authority cloaked in God’s garb.

“Strip,” Father Easterman commanded, his voice low and edged with a calm that sent shivers racing down Coyle’s spine. The word wasn’t a request; it was an order, firm and unyielding, like the man himself.

Coyle’s hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his mind a haze of panic and arousal. He could barely think straight, but his body moved on its own, obeying without question. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his arms before he dropped it to the floor. His belt buckle clinked softly as he unbuckled it, the sound deafening in the small space.

Father Easterman watched him with an intensity that burned, his black eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin. “Kneel,” he said, his tone softer now but no less commanding.

Coyle’s knees hit the floor with a dull thud, the cool wood biting into his skin. He stared up at the priest, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Father Easterman stepped closer, the hem of his clerical dress brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. The proximity was overwhelming, the scent of incense and something earthy clinging to the man like a second skin.

“Your thoughts are filthy, aren’t they?” Father Easterman murmured, tilting Coyle’s chin up with two fingers. No lies. That was what those dark eyes seemed to say.

Coyle swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Yes, Father.”

The corner of the priest’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that melted away almost instantly. “And yet you came here. To me. Seeking absolution.” He leaned down, his face inches from Coyle’s, his breath warm against his lips. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Coyle hesitated, his mind spinning. Did he? Could he even want forgiveness when all he could think about was how Father Easterman’s hands would feel on him, inside him, claiming him for something far darker than salvation?

“I—” His voice cracked, and he licked his lips, desperate for some semblance of composure. “I don’t know.”

Father Easterman hummed, a low, approving sound that made heat flare in Coyle’s stomach. “Let me guide you, then,” he said, his fingers trailing down Coyle’s jaw to his throat, where they rested lightly, not quite pressing, but the threat was there. A warning.

Coyle nodded, his body trembling under the priest’s touch. He was powerless to resist, not that he wanted to. Every nerve in his body was alight, humming with anticipation.

Father Easterman’s hand moved to his chest, fingers curling around the cross draped around his neck. He lifted it slowly, the cross slipping free to dangle from his fingers, gleaming like a weapon.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice smooth and steady, as though this act were the most natural thing in the world.

Coyle obeyed immediately, his lips parting. The tip of the cross brushed against his tongue, cold and bitter, sending a jolt through him. Father Easterman guided the cold metal further in, until it pressed against the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.

“Good boy,” the priest murmured, his tone rich with approval, his thumb stroking Coyle’s cheek. “You take it so well.”

The praise went straight to Coyle’s core, igniting a fire that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the cross in his mouth, the way the priest’s fingers forced his jaw wider, stretched his lips. It was humiliating, yet the intensity of it sparked deep, unshakable thrill.

Slowly, Father Easterman withdrew the cross, a glimmering thread of saliva clinging to it before he wiped it clean on the edge of his garment. His expression was unreadable as he took a step back.

“Touch yourself,” Father Easterman ordered, his gaze piercing. “Show me how much you want this.”

Coyle hesitated for only a moment before his hand moved to his cock, already hard and aching. He wrapped his fingers around himself, his touch tentative at first, but the priest’s sharp inhale spurred him on. He stroked himself slowly, his hips canting upward into his palm, while the priest watched with rapt attention.

“Faster,” the priest urged, his voice rough now, betraying the carefully constructed facade of control.

Coyle obeyed, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach. His other hand braced against the floor, his nails digging into the wood as he worked himself faster, harder.

Father Easterman knelt in front of him, cupping Coyle’s face in one hand. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Coyle’s eyes snapped open, meeting the priest’s gaze. Those dark eyes were full of hunger now, raw and unrelenting.

“You belong to me,” Father Easterman whispered, his voice dripping with possessive certainty. “From this moment on, every sin, every thought, every part of you is mine.”

Coyle moaned, his strokes faltering as the words sank in, wrapping around him like chains. He didn’t care if it was wrong, if it was blasphemous. All he cared about was the man in front of him, commanding him, claiming him.

The priest’s hand moved to the back of his neck, gripping him firmly. “Cum for me, Leland,”

It was all Coyle needed. His orgasm ripped through him, sudden and intense, his body convulsing as he spilled over his hand and onto the floor. His head swam, his vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath.

Father Easterman watched him with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but his expression quickly shifted back to that calm, controlled mask. He stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his outfit and fastening the buttons with practiced ease.

“We’re not done,” He reached down, grabbing Coyle by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”

Coyle stumbled, his legs still weak, but he did as he was told. The wood was cool against his palms as he leaned forward, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Father Easterman stepped close behind him, one hand resting on his hip while the other traced the curve of his spine. “This will hurt,” he warned, his voice steady. “But pain brings clarity, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t have time to respond before he felt the priest’s fingers press against him, slick with spit he hadn’t noticed being prepared.

“Relax,” Father Easterman murmured, his breath hot against Coyle’s neck.

He tried to obey, but his body tensed instinctively as the priest pushed a finger inside him, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable.

“Shh,” the priest soothed, his other hand moving to Coyle’s shoulder, holding him steady. “You can take it.”

The words were reassuring, but Coyle couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips as another finger joined the first, scissoring him open.

Father Easterman leaned in closer, murmuring into his ear. “Tell me, do you still want absolution after this?”

Coyle groans longingly as Father Easterman withdrew his fingers, leaving him empty and exposed. The cold air of the confessional brushed against his sensitive skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He could hear the faint rustle of fabric behind him—the priest adjusting, preparing—but he didn’t dare turn around. His hands trembled where they gripped the edge of the wooden bench, knuckles white with tension.

The priest stepped closer, his cassock brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. Coyle’s mouth went dry as Father Easterman reached for him, his long fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before sliding down to grip his throat.

“You don’t deserve this,” the priest murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point in Coyle’s neck. “But I’ll give it to you anyway.”

Before Coyle could respond, Father Easterman pressed his chest against the unforgiving wood of the confessional wall. The roughness of the surface bit into his skin, grounding him even as his mind spiraled. He heard the sound of a zipper, then the rustle of fabric. His heart pounded so loudly he was certain the entire church could hear it.

The priest’s body pressed flush against his back, hot and solid, and Coyle let out a shaky breath as he felt the tip of the man’s cock nudging between his thighs.

“Relax,” Father Easterman ordered, his voice calm and soothing. One hand splayed across Coyle’s lower back, holding him steady, while the other guided himself to the twitching opening.

Coyle squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. The first press was slow, deliberate, and he hissed through clenched teeth as the priest pushed inside. The stretch burned, but there was pleasure threaded through the pain, a forbidden sweetness that made his head swim. He couldn’t help the way his body instinctively tried to pull away, but the priest held him firmly in place.

“Stay still,” the priest growled. “You wanted this. You asked for this. Now take it.”

Coyle whimpered, his fingers scrabbling against the wall as the priest began to move. Each thrust was measured, controlled, driving deeper with a precision that left the other man gasping. The priest’s hips snapped forward, forcing Coyle to arch into the wall, his body bending to accommodate the rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small space.

It wasn’t just the physical sensation that overwhelmed him—it was the knowledge of where they were, what they were doing. This holy place, once a sanctuary, had become something else entirely. A den of sin. A corruption of faith. And yet, Coyle couldn’t bring himself to care. His thoughts were consumed by the man behind him, by the way Father Easterman filled him completely, claiming him in a way that felt almost sacred.

The priest’s hand moved from his back to grasp his hip, nails digging into flesh hard enough to leave marks. Coyle cried out, the pain sharp and delicious, and Father Easterman chuckled.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered. “Do you understand now? This isn’t about absolution. This is about submission.”

Coyle nodded frantically, unable to form words. His body was alive with sensation, every nerve alight as Father Easterman drove into him with increasing intensity. The pace became erratic, less calculated, and Coyle realized with a jolt that the priest was losing control. That steadfast composure was cracking, breaking apart beneath the weight of their shared desire.

“F-father—” he stammered, the honorific slipping out unbidden.

Father Easterman’s response was a growl, deep and guttural, as he leaned over Coyle’s back, his chest pressing against the other man’s shoulders. His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust punctuated by a grunt of effort. Coyle’s knees threatened to buckle, but the priest held him upright, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Say my name,” Father Easterman demanded, his voice rough with need.

Coyle hesitated, his mind foggy with pleasure. “H-Hendrick-“ he finally gasped, the name foreign on his tongue. It felt wrong, blasphemous, to address the priest so familiarly at this moment. But the way Father Easterman groaned in response sent a thrill through him.

“Again,” the priest urged, his thrusts becoming almost punishing.

“Hendrick! F-Fffuck!!” Coyle cried out, louder than he meant to. The walls of the confessional seemed to close in around them, amplifying every sound. He could feel the heat building low in his stomach, coiling tighter with each movement. His own cock strained against his abdomen, neglected but throbbing with want.

Father Easterman’s hand slid around to grip him, cold fingers wrapping around his aching hardness. The touch was electric, overwhelming, and Coyle let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Not yet,” the priest warned, tightening his hold. “You don’t get to cum until I allow it.”

Coyle whined, desperate and pleading, but Father Easterman only laughed—a low, wicked sound that sent shivers down his spine. The priest’s thrusts slowed, drawing out the sensation until Coyle thought he might go mad. Every inch of him was on fire, every nerve screaming for release, but his body wouldn’t disobey.

Father Easterman’s breathing grew ragged, his movements losing their rhythm as he chased his own pleasure. Coyle could feel the moment he teetered on the edge, the way his body stiffened and his grip tightened almost painfully. With a final, forceful thrust, the priest came undone, burying himself deep as he spilled inside. Coyle wasn’t far behind him, panting the wall of the confessional with his spend.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their labored breathing, harsh and uneven in the confined space. Then Father Easterman pulled out slowly, and Coyle sagged against the wall, trembling and overstimulated.

The priest straightened, his hands smoothing over Coyle’s back in a gesture that felt almost tender. His lips brushed against the shell of Coyle’s ear as he whispered, “You did well.”

Coyle turned his head, catching a glimpse of priest’s face. The mask of piety was gone, replaced by something darker, hungrier. It sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, despite his exhaustion.

Father Easterman stepped back, redressing with practiced ease, while Coyle remained where he was, too weak to move. When the priest finally spoke again, his voice was calm, almost detached.

“I’ll see you next Sunday~”

[nameuserlee]

Sylus — Night of Secrecy 💋❤️

❤️- Screenshots -❤️

❤️ - Kindled scene below the cut + my thoughts/rambling -❤️

.

.

.

Uhm. Wow. Just, wow. My sincere congratulations to Sylus and MC, the kiss card finally came and so did they, hallelujah.

I still can't believe this card is real, though. I'm genuinely dizzy, and I mean that in the best possible way. Because it’s sooo perfect. 10/10. No notes. Would swipe for again in a heartbeat.

I didn’t really know what I wanted their first kiss to look like. But I know that whatever I could’ve imagined wouldn’t have been nearly as good as this was. Now let me yap about this!

MC finally gets to bring Onychinus' leader to her place! After learning he needs a place to crash for 3 days before leaving for “business”, MC very generously offers her apartment as a safe house, both to keep him close and to figure out where he’ll be going since he won’t tell her (for her safety, of course).

And my god, these 3 days of them living together are the cutest, most domestic thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to read.

Shopping for groceries together, getting him his own pair of house slippers, him using (all of) her body wash. Sylus being in her space feels right, despite the smaller doorframes and treacherous bathroom cabinets.

(Grown ass man needs us to blow on his boo-boo. ADORABLE.)

But nevermind how cute this is, the situation is still unusual. Sylus and MC’s worlds kinda clash, despite how well they now get along and how much they care for each other. They are both aware of this, and no matter how fun this little play-pretend is, it’s going to have to end soon.

On their drive to the supermarket, Sylus prompts MC with a question: “When you’re in danger during a mission, do you think of anyone?” And the exchange that follows means a lot to me.

“But after my dirty work is done, I’ll wash my hands before going home.” I need this line tattooed across my forehead.

Sylus can’t leave his life back in the N109 zone, but he also doesn’t want to give up MC. And above all else, he wants to keep her safe. He tries to keep her away from his actual “business” as much as he can (which explains why he refuses to tell her where he’s going after their 3 days together).

If it weren’t for the N109 zone being risky for him to stay in right now and MC very conveniently proposing her place, he definitely would’ve found somewhere else to crash.

And so his best way to protect her while indulging their desire to see each other is to promise to “wash his hands before going home.” Whenever he gets to come back to her, he is not bringing his work to her. He will not allow himself to carelessly “taint” her life with his lifestyle. Very sweet, very thoughtful, very mindful (are we still saying mindful in 2025?) .

I’m gonna fast forward to their last night together/the kindled scene because I fear I could talk about every single line in this card.

Where to even begin.

BEST PROMPT IVE EVER SEEN ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

MC initating the kiss means everything to me. Thinking back to their first meeting, it’s him forcing her to resonate with her. Now, she’s pretty much the one who sets the pace in their relationship, which leads to this beautiful first kiss. It’s just too good.

“You really don’t want me to leave?” NO SIR SHE WANTS TO CLIMB YOU LIKE A TREE SHE WANTS YOU BAD and there’s no more denying it. She’s been worried sick throughout the whole card about him, trying to make the most out of their time together, and now that it’s down to the last hours, she wants it all.

And when things start to get heated, our consent king doesn’t only ask her once, but TWICE if she wants to do it.

And it’s soooo HOT!

In the kindled, he hopes MC hasn’t changed her mind, since she kinda nudges him away right after saying yes. He wants this to happen just as badly, but no matter what he’s always, always going to put her first, and so he checks in again with her.

Is this the bare minimum? Well yes! But I still think it’s worth noting. Especially if, again, we compare to how cold he was with her at the beginning of the relationship and how he was forcing her to go along with what he wanted.

Consent is sexy, asking for confirmation is hot as hell. 12/10 would smash again.

[imagionationstation]

Hey so sorry to bother you but… just saw you listen to Epic??? I know you’re a turtle nerd, as am I but… I NEED to know your favorite Epic song/favorite character right NOW PLEASE! You’re like one of the coolest people so to find out you also listen to Epic is…. Mmmmmmmm anyways I hope this isn’t weird or anything but PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW😭🙏🏻❤️

NOT WEIRD! LOVE THIS ASK! THANK YOU!

SERIOUSLY! I WOULD BE RANTING ABOUT EPIC 24/7 IF THIS WASN’T A TURTLES BLOG BELIEVE YOU ME

Alike to turtles, I have problematic views!! I look at things that 3/4 of the fandom shares a view in and go: That’s not what’s happening.

The people in my life have heard me ramble I cannot shut up:

I went to this event months ago and it did Trivia and a round was Greek Mythology and everyone in my group was like, “Neko, this is all on you. Don’t let us down” and I got 9/10 right. Go me ✨

Gonna see my bested friend soon! We never get to see each other so we’re making a day out of hanging out. We’re gonna watch the full saga. All of the two hours of it. I am collecting animatics. Silly goose thinks it’s an optional suggestion (it’s not <3)

(Don’t worry, I’m exploring outside interests too. It’s mutual 😜)

Asking me to pick a favorite song is like asking me to pick a favorite fanfiction child. All my children have gifts of their own to share and I love them all with everything that I have!!!

But if you’re asking what song I most commonly have played on repeat and/or belted on the top of my lungs when I’m alone…

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You tops everything else.

Based off this, I wanna say that Calypso is my favorite character. 🤔

I mean, I created a blog where our only purpose in life is to be safe in our horror and empathy for her situation and to acknowledge that she has so much nuance that the fandom doesn’t touch.

But I think if I’m being honest, it’s not her.

At the end of the day, my angsty heart is drawn to Athena.

DISCLAIMER: Controversal opinions ahead. Do not come yell at me if you do not agree. Tell me why I’m wrong, absolutely! But do it kindly and thoughtfully, and maybe we can have a conversation :D

I am passionate about this character. No aggression to the musical. Every song in the musical rocks. It’s merely my passion speaking.

Everything about her breaks my heart. She’s a goddess in a disfunctional family who doesn’t understand mortal ways.

Also, her dad is the most toxic dude alive.

I mean, there’s this one line that people portray in so many ways, but you watch how Zeus interacts with her and recall the fact that he literally didn’t want her to live when she was conceived- he is SUCH a bully and her respect only stems from him being ‘king of the gods’.

None of the gods step in during God Games. At no point does anyone go “dad you can’t threaten your daughter because she did exactly what you asked her to do”. Not even ARES.

He’s the one who says, mortified, “is she dead?” So he didn’t WANT that turn of events. He cares about her and her state of being.

She’s the only one willing to challenge Zeus and he literally says, “you won, I don’t care, I’m going to heavily punish you because I’m unhappy that you said a true statement I didn’t like”

I've no respect for bullies, those who impose their will I've seen plenty enough to truly understand this kind of filth

DO YOU SEE MY VISION?

Literally her entire life- no one’s been on her side! NO WONDER she doesn’t want to take Ody’s offer of friendship. Clearly no one has ever really given her trust or empathy that she can lean on.

She expects people to lack empathy. She doesn’t understand that he’s not that kind of person and her lessons won’t click.

Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you I see you changing from how I've designed you

Why would she trust a moral when she can’t trust the gods?

And she has such a temper which is so relatable.

They were in two different spectrums and that’s why they clashed.

She was running off of a mentor mindset. He was running off a friendship mindset. Neither was doing what the other needed for the relationship because they were not on the same page.

And then they hit the ditch in the road and everything cracked.

I mistook you for a general What a waste of effort spent

I'll remind you I saw you as a friend But now we're done

And Athena’s proclamation literally is a prediction for herself:

One day, you'll hear what I'm saying One day, you might understand One day, but not today

Time skip: the way that Athena talks to Telemachus says that she’s been stewing in regret because she KNOWS they were good friends and she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She understands why they clashed and now she doesn’t know what to do about it.

So this kid is like “I think you should help him even if he hates you. If he won’t accept your friendship then I’ll be here waiting.”

(*insert waiting, waiting, waiting mantra*)

AND THAT’S LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT SHE NEEDED TO HEAR?

SHE LITERALLY JUST NEEDED TO KNOW SHE HAD ONE PERSON ON HER SIDE? ONE FRIEND WHO CARED ABOUT HER?

I’m a sucker for ‘doing everything for the people you care about but platonically’ and Athena is the PICTURE of ‘oh wait I would platonically die for my friend’ and like?? That’s beautiful??? 😭

My only qualm with EPIC is the way that the Ithaca Saga handled Athena because you cannot convince me that it did not do her dirty. I have read and scrolled and chewed on all the arguments.

That. Beautiful. Goddess. Went. Above. And. Beyond. To. Mend. Her. Mistake and he outright denied her friendship.

That was not a “oh yeah we can be friends later” very well.

That’s a voice cracking, heartbroken: “I took a thunderbolt for you and you don’t want me in your life” very well. LIKE.

Yes. Oddy went through a lot. No denying that.

But he called out for HER. After everything, he called out for HER HELP. Showed a belief in her. Counted on her to save him

AND SHE DID WHAT HE NEEDED. TOOK A THUNDERBOLT. BEGGED ON HER KNEES WHILE SUFFERING AND IN AGONY.

I can't help but wonder What this world could be If we all held each other with a bit more empathy I can't help but feel like I led you astray What if there's a world where we don't have to live this way?

{I messed up. I want to do better. Is that still possible?}

If that world exists It's far away from here It's one I'll have to miss For it's far beyond my years You might live forever So you can make it be But I've got one endeavor There's a girl I have to see

{No. You have thousands of years to make other friends. There’s no world where we can mend who we used to be. You do what you need to do. My only want is to be with my wife.}

LIKE if they were going to try, the song would SAY that they plan to try. Jorge is not afraid to strongly imply things or outright say them. Ody doesn’t WANT to try and be friends. All he wants is wife. Which would be valid if SHE DIDN’T TAKE A THUNDERBOLT FOR HIM

ONE THAT SCARRED HER EYE AND KNOCKED HER OUT FOR SEVERAL SONGS SO SHE COULDN’T BE THERE TO HELP

There was no reason, no obligation, nothing but her love and affection for him that drew her to take that punishment from Zeus.

There is no way, after everything, she’s asking him to be her warrior.

She’s literally saying she messed up. She wants to mend their relationship. She wants to do better for him.

He could have said, “I’m not a man who does empathy anymore but we can try” instead of “I have other plans, gonna have to miss this friendship train” because that is an awful diss. Straight painful.

This amazing song did her so dirty and I will never get over it.

Thank goodness for Telemachus. She’ll needs his optimism and joy and willing friendship after the sting from that bite.

[chaosinstigator]

here’s the thing… I’ll never settle on that this is it, that it’s the end of it all bc there’s too many things that don’t make sense but also if anyone in this world deserves karmic justice it’s Daniel and I simply refuse that this is the end after everything he’s dealt with in the last four years.

I need to believe good things happen to good people or I’ll go absolutely crazy so I’m gonna stay in the place of hope and possible delusion that this isn’t the end, simply because it can’t be.