#curse inaccessibility!!!!!

[coolerdracula]

saying “visual style" because, for example, if you would swap your current wardrobe for an identical, ethically made counterpart, there would be no visible change

[thefirstknife]

re: the tomb: i distinctly remember peering into the tomb afterwards and it was empty, hence my confusion :(

It would really help if you could remember when you did this! Went into it a little bit in a reply here.

The tomb was (in-game) only ever visited once, in Curse, in Not Even the Darkness quest. We visited the area outside of the tomb in Dawn, in Impossible Task. In Impossible Task, Saint doesn't die so we're not meant to see anything, even if you were able to peek behind the door. I personally did not beacuse I was fighting for my life in that mission so I was really not thinking about looking. Here's a screenshot from my recording of it, showing the average health I spent fighting this boss with (I have no idea why I was doing this with two sidearms):

At the end of the mission, you're kinda stuck listening to Saint and then you get yoinked out of there without the opportunity to explore. Either way, the tomb should not be there anyway in Dawn, so if you looked back then and it wasn't there, that makes sense. There was never any new Mercury content after that (besides the skybox changes), and old content was never altered.

The other user mentioned that this area was also used in adventures, but adventures were made at the same time as Curse so if the tomb isn't there, this isn't some big reveal and is more likely to just be that the area behind the door was not modelled for missions where it doesn't matter. During adventures, we're not meant to be looking at the tomb anyway so I'm not surprised the area wouldn't be entirely accurately modelled behind the door. Kinda like how you don't have to model hair on characters wearing hats. The adventures simply aren't a canonical look into the tomb. It's literally just a reused arena, not meant to show us the tomb at all. If people could peek into it from another activity, it's 100% not intended.

But either way, there is only one canonical visit to the tomb, in Curse. In Dawn, we only go to the area outside, with zero chance that they would've modelled the whole thing that wasn't meant to be seen (or that would not make sense for there to be a body in the first place). In lore, the tomb was visited by us when we discovered it (Not Even the Darkness quest) and shortly after by Osiris when he checked for himself. No one else has ever been there and both visits in lore were before we saved Saint.

[adelphenium]

WHAT is bradsune marchu. please drop the lore

oh gosh. well. bradsune marchu is she........ delivered to my inbox via (prophetic?) dream......

[rjalker]

I love clicking on a carrd trying to find information only to be met with the most eye-straining colors you've ever seen.

And by "love" I mean "hate".

I also hate being told to listen to a podcast or watch a musical and then there's no transcript or subtitles.

[adamparrishdyke]

ok i have a lot of things to say about theatre but wjat i will post is this: just because angels in america could do minimalist sets with neon lights as accents doesnt mean every regional production and their mother should ditch detailed sets for mininmalism and neon (led) strips

[chosows]

"AM I DOING GOOD?"

YOUR OBSESSED LOSER BOYFRIEND

Choso x Fem Reader

Summary: Choso just can’t seem to get enough of you. To him, you’re the only woman worthy of his time—the only woman he’ll ever look at so intimately. When you’re at work, he struggles to cope with your lack of company, becoming desperate for your attention when you aren’t around. Every day he awaits your return impatiently—craving your familiar touch.

Word count: 2.5k

Contains: Submissive Choso, established relationship, masturbation, interrupted masturbation, begging, teasing, no protection, penetrative, cowgirl, missionary, cumshots, creampie

Audio: i based this on this audio from a request. full credits to the VA for inspo

Note: need to write more one shots like this ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

Left alone in the bedroom, Choso grumbles. The past few hours have been spent aimlessly flipping through TV stations; there is nothing to satiate his boredom. He wants one thing and one thing only—you. He flooded your phone with messages, receiving no response since you’re likely making your way home from work. Time couldn’t tick by any slower.

Rolling onto his side, the open drawer full of your panties catches his attention. Choso pierces his lips together, his mind wandering to picture you in your lingerie—thinking about how sexy you look when you tease him, sending him all those naughty pictures when he’s the one at work. The ones he saves to his gallery in a special folder just for you; two albums have your name, one inaccessible without a passcode.

Grabbing a pair, he balls them up into his hand and throws himself back on the mattress, admiring them in the air. A black lace set, simple but equally as seductive. He lowers them to his face, cursing himself for his perverted ways as he sniffs, only to be disappointed by the smell of laundry detergent. No one could miss pussy more than he does; his dick throbs at the thought of your taste when you guide his head, holding him down while he eats you out.

Unable to contain himself, he fumbles with his zipper and pulls his dick from his underpants, his tip sensitive to the touch. Using your panties for added stimulation, he begins stroking himself, wishing it were you touching him. Sometimes, he wishes he wasn’t so obsessed with you—it’s beginning to interfere with his life; deep down, he knows he’d live no other way. You’re the only thought in his head; he’d do anything for you—the possibilities are endless.

Since you’re not home, he’s free to be as loud as he wants. His moans leave his mouth as his head lolled back, letting himself get lost in the endless fantasies his mind curated of you. You enter through the door and take your shoes off, humming the tune to the song playing through your headphones while you walk through to the living room. When you call Choso’s name, he doesn’t reply and your brows pinch together.

“Baby? Are you home?” You call out again, hearing clattering coming from the bedroom.

“M’ here. Wait—” The floorboards creak as you approach the bedroom and he panics, covering himself carelessly as the door swings open.

“I missed you so much!” You beam at him and walk over, holding his head in your hands while cuddling him to your chest.

“Missed you too.” He mumbles, his dick twitching from the material of the blanket rubbing him the wrong way.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” You pull your lips to one side and put your hand on his forehead, slicking his hair back, “You don’t have a fever.”

“I’m okay, just sleepy.” He smiles, his eyes innocent despite the deceit—he’s not tired at all.

“You’re always sleepy.” You hum, pressing your forehead to his. Your gaze lowers, noticing him swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Not always.”

“Your cheeks are rosy.” Your thumb strokes over his smooth skin, unaware of the situation under the blanket that he is desperately attempting to conceal.

“You’re so beautiful.” He chokes on his words when you straddle him, your ass directly on top of his hardly-covered dick.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s—” He grits his teeth, turning his head to the side, “—Nothing. I told you I’m fine.”

“What’s this?” Underneath the blanket covering him is a slip of fabric. Before he could stop you, you reel it out and reveal your panties.

“I swear I can explain, please.” He whines, grabbing your hand while you stare down at him. You don’t speak, giving him the approval to justify his actions.

“I just wanted to feel you. I missed you so much; I need you so fucking bad.” His eyes were wide, a soft glimmer possessing them while his hands rubbed up and down your hips.

“How long have you been jerking off in my panties?”

“A few weeks—”

You flash a stern glare at him and he huffs, squeezing your fingers while they intertwine with his.

“I know, I’m sorry. Please, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re so needy, you know?” Your voice lowers, bundling his shirt as you draw him closer to you. He couldn’t handle being touch-starved for much longer and cracked, connecting his lips with yours.

While you intended to go for a controlled approach, Choso was sloppy, dragging you down with him while his lips assaulted yours. All his pent-up sexual frustration is revealing itself, his tongue meeting with yours in an instant. Despite not being touched, this was all he needed to orgasm, whimpering pathetically into your mouth as he cums all over himself. You pull back and remove the blanket, seeing the trail shot up his lower abdomen and shirt.

“I’ve been good, haven’t I?” He murmurs, grabbing onto your face with both hands, “I’ve been a good boy for you.”

“You’ve been perfect.” Your lips twist up, “Only you could cum all over yourself like this. You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“All yours. Only yours.” He hastily replies, grinning right back at you.

“I think it’s only right that a good boyfriend deserves a treat, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You’ve made such a mess.” You toss the now dirty blanket onto the floor, helping him out of his shirt and boxers.

“I’ll clean it all up later, I promise.”

“Thank you, baby.” You kiss his cheek and pull away, only to feel his grip on your forearm tighten.

“Where are you going?” He whines, tugging you back as you stumble forward.

“I’m going to get changed.”

“No.” He lets his head roll back, his cheeks lit with a red flush, highlighting his dire need for your attention, “I need you now.”

“No?” You cock your head slightly askew, his demanding words catching you off guard.

“You haven’t touched me in ages.”

“You’re going to have to wait, Choso. I won’t be long.”

“Please don’t leave the room; you can do it here. I want to see your pretty body.”

“Let’s make a deal, okay?” You brush your hair away from your face and he nods, “I want you to get yourself off until I’m ready and I’ll stay in the room. Can you do that for me?”

“Am I allowed to cum?”

“What fun would it be if you cum again before I get my hands on you?”

“Okay, I won’t. Don’t make me wait forever.” Choso lets go of you, watching you waltz over to the laundry basket.

His eyes linger on your figure as you strip out of your clothes, using his previous spill of cum as lubricant. It was hard to remain silent, his moans muffled due to him forcing his mouth shut. There is no shame left in him as his body twitches, the sight of you from behind leaving him tearing at the skin on his lips. He was overstimulated, hornier than he was previously—but he never gave up. His body knew you were what he craved—likely the only thing providing him the stamina to keep going.

You grin while your back is facing him, hearing the soft noises he makes while he strokes himself to the thoughts playing in his mind. You glance back, noticing him divert his eyes, his hand trembling due to the repeated motions. Though cruel, you want to see how long you can make him wait. Choso always cums quickly, but he’s the type of man that wants to cum multiple times until he gets everything out of his system—until he knows that he has pleased you. If necessary, he’d continue until his eyes are forced shut.

His heavy breathing increases, his big amber eyes begging you to turn around and place your hands all over him. Under the muffled sounds of his whimpers, he calls for you, his voice too weak for you to register from the distance you’re at. He knows you’re doing this to him on purpose, turning him on as his pitch rises an octave, his whines now desperate cries for attention. You unclasp your bra, slinging it aside, then slowly step out of your panties. His face lights up, a gleaming smile displayed as his hands proceed to tremble.

“Are you ready?” He gasps in between his words, eagerly awaiting you to spin around and join him on the mattress.

“Not yet.”

“You said— We had a deal.” He almost sounds hurt, as if he took the betrayal to heart, “I’m going to cum— You know I can’t last—”

“Relax, Choso. I’m teasing.” You chuckle, spinning around and closing the distance, “You can stop now. You did so well.”

“Did I?” His sticky hand leeches onto yours, “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I keep sending you inappropriate messages while you’re at work and I steal your panties.” He utters. He feels ashamed at how attached he is to you—many of your friends have commented on his clingy behaviour.

“I like your little messages; I think they’re cute—the pictures too.”

“Yeah? You like them?”

“I love them; you look so pretty in the videos. Got the most handsome face I’ve ever seen, haven’t you?”

“I’ll send you more. You make me this way—I’m so horny. I get so excited for you to come home every day.”

“I can see that.” Your eyes drift down to his dick, wrapping your hand around it, grazing against the veins that decorate it. “All of this because of me, I’m flattered.”

“All for you. I love you so much.” Choso tugs you forward, making sure he’s able to hold you in the kiss so you can’t break free this time.

His lips were soft; you could feel his smirk pressed against you while you shuffled closer. He adored kissing you; exploring every inch of you is a blessing to him. He pulls back and shifts your hips, lining his tip up with your entrance. The moment he’s been waiting for all day is finally in his hands, the greatest privilege he has been gifted in life.

“I can’t wait to feel you. I’m going to make you feel so good.” He mutters, dotting kisses down your arm while you lower yourself onto him, “So good. I’ll make you cum, I swear.”

“Quiet down, Choso.” You snicker, his pupils blown out as he bottoms out inside of you.

“Oh fuck, ‘so tight,” Since he can’t tone it down, you put your hand over his mouth. You silence his moans, barely doing enough to dull the volume.

Your day at work drained you; you don’t have enough energy to remain on top for long, growing exhausted only after the first few minutes have passed. Choso recognises your lack of energy and rolls over, allowing you to lie down. When you give him this opportunity, he makes sure he doesn’t disappoint you. He inches back into you, setting the pace to his liking, carefully analysing your facial expressions.

“Please talk to me.” He grunts, reaching forward to stroke your face.

“You’re doing so well—just like that.” Your eyes flutter shut as his tip massages a point deep within you, stimulating your G-spot. From the look on his face, it’s as though he is awestruck by you; none of this is new to him, he just can’t get over how gorgeous you are.

“Are you close?” He’s aware that it’s early on, but this has been prolonged for him—he’s already at his point of release.

“Not yet.”

“Fuck— I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“You can do it, Choso. Do it for me.”

“I’m trying. M’ trying, but it’s so hard—”

“Keep yourself there.” You readjust your position, raising your hips slightly while he secures you in place.

“Here? Should I press down?” He rubs his hand on your lower abdomen, applying pressure to aid your pleasure, “Look at you— You’re so pretty. You’re going to be mine forever, aren’t you?”

“Forever.” You mumble your words, repeating them as the satisfaction begins to take over your rational thinking.

“Can you feel this?” He says in a proud tone while his fingers circle around your clit, building your climax rapidly, “Am I doing it right?”

“Mhm’, that’s it.” Your breath hitches, muscles tightening due to the stimulation, “That’s it, Choso.”

“I’m holding out for you,” The atmosphere was filled with heavy breathing and the sound of skin slapping, “Please don’t be mad if I cum.”

“Just a little more.”

“I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.” His voice was raspy, barely able to get his words out. “I love how you take care of me. I love how good our sex is—”

“And— Those other people,” He pants, glaring directly into your eyes, “Who said I wasn’t enough for you were wrong, weren't they? I’m so good for you.”

“You’re more than enough for me.”

“Not every man has to pretend to be emotionless. They’re so jealous because I’m the one you wanted.” He plants his lips on your neck, leaving a soft trail of pecks leading down to your chest, “I’m going to give you everything, going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Choso comes undone inside of you, his whimpers flowing while his cum spurts out, filling you up just as he had anticipated. He continues to thrust, making sure you have the opportunity to finish despite him being close to passing out from the overstimulation. His hands are groping your breasts, sliding all over your body, doing anything he can to help you.

“Please cum, please,” He whispers his plea, his breath fanning onto your neck, “I want you to cum for me.”

“Yes— Oh shit,” He laughs in between gasps, not expecting his words to have an effect, “You’re so tight around me.”

Locking with his innocent eyes, you break, losing your composure as your orgasm reigns over your body. Choso is struggling to speak, his words coming out in hiccups while he continues—unable to stop himself. He pulls out of you and shoots cum all over your stomach, letting his drained body fall beside yours. Tonight, he made a mess much bigger than he ever had before, his head spinning while his body regains energy.

“I really needed this.” Choso turns, noticing the sweet expression on your face as you gaze at him.

“I love you too; I forgot to say it back.” You beam over at him while your chest heaves, your body sticky with both sweat and cum, a combination that becomes irritating as time passes.

“Give me a minute and I’ll clean everything up like I promised.” He pecks your cheek, pleased with himself for the state you’re in. Usually, you prefer to be the one in charge of aftercare—you don’t have the heart to stop him as he seems so ecstatic with his performance. “Do you want a fresh set of lingerie or my boxers and a shirt?”

“Boxers and a shirt, please.”

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

ANAKIN SKYWALKER who pissed you the fuck off. Who’s earned himself a one-way trip to the doghouse. Who tries to talk his way through the silent treatment, everything from questions to pleas to shouting. You won’t have it, and it kills him to be ignored.

“Well, fine! Be that way.” he announces loudly throughout the house, storming to the opposite side to leave you completely alone. He punishes you for being upset with him, for needing space from him. Your unhealthy response is met with his in poetic turn.

He sleeps by himself that night. Even though sleep is inaccessible, he lies on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. The delicate crease in his brow has deepened to a permanent crevice, scowling at the light fixture in the ceiling. He can’t even recall exactly what caused this disruption and he certainly doesn’t believe it’s his fault. Whatever stance he took that offended you is clearly his private beliefs and you should’ve respected that. His metal fingers tap in a wave across his bicep, and he picks up his head to glance at the doorway of the living room as if you would be there to greet him. No such thing. You’re probably fast asleep in the comforts of your shared bed, the bed you so carelessly kicked him out of.

The couch is uncomfortable. The material is smooth but naturally cold against his bare back and his thin black pants. He’s used to his many covers, and a body next to him.

A warm, smooth body. He misses it. Soft and creamy in texture, he misses the way it winds around him. But you’re being difficult. As if you’re a princess, every interaction between the two of you has been scrutinized with extreme prejudice by your judgmental eyes. You questioned his every move towards you, every touch, every word. Your wrath knew no bounds and now he’s cold and alone and it’s your fault. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you near him, holding him, running your hands through his hair. He doesn’t want your massages that release muscle tensions he didn’t even know he had, he doesn’t want your kind smile against his ear as you whisper your dirty little secrets, he doesn’t want your experienced hand running down the hair at his abdomen to caress him through his sleepwear.

You’ve had a prissy little attitude he could fuck out of you, if he wanted to. His grip on his bicep tightens, sharp spite taking root within his heart as he curses himself in Huttese. There’s a dirty word he’d like to call you right now, he’d like to sneer it in your face in a language you can’t understand just so you can be offended without reason. It’ll give you a taste of the betrayal’s he’s felt this night.

The chaise he lays on is not long enough for his body, his bare feet hang off the arm rest, and he shifts so he can plant them there. Once properly leveraged, he straightens his legs so he pushes himself up to more of a sit as a sneer twitches at the corner of his nose. He has half a mind to go disturb you while you peacefully slumber, interrupt you with his jealousy over your comfort and demand that if you have a problem with him that you should be the one to leave. You’d fit on this useless couch anyway. A yelling match would surely ensue; he’d be able to raise his voice over yours and finally make you understand his point of view. You’d be so eager to make it up to him, so keen to please him that you’d do anything, wouldn’t you? Pondering its possibilities has his left hand lured to the sudden ache between his legs.

You’d be so broken up over how coldly you’ve treated him, you’d spoil him. You’d pamper him with apologies and compliments he’d ignore, you’d beg to rub his sore shoulders and arms so that he’d look at you again. Kisses would be planted wherever you could reach, and he’d direct you with a palm on your head to where your lips belong. Sweetly you’d worship on his manhood, coaxing him to attention with patience and enthusiasm until he’s ready to free it. Wouldn’t matter how long he’d let you perform for him, you wouldn’t say a word about rushing him. Briefly, he considers the notion that you’d let him bat it against your cheek, and rub it on your face. He’d hump your head just to see the thick mix of fluids coat your pretty features. If he’s feeling particularly vengeful, he might fuck your throat with the intent to hurt, the intent to choke. You’d have to campaign for his mercy by flattering for his ego because if you’re too pitiful he’ll be too inclined to suffocate you with his every inch plugging your airway. Big hands at the back of your head to keep you pinned while you sputter and spray around his base. Your mess of stringy saliva would dribble down his balls and catch on the hair on his thighs.

A noise of the house creaks and his eyes fly open. His hand has come to caress himself, balled around his solid shaft that pulses with need. He can practically feel the blood pump through it, the sensitive skin burning for relief as he’s rawed it against the material of his pants.

He pushes through the discomfort, and plunges the hand down his waistband, fisting his red hot cock with a callused grasp.

[sirfrogsworth]

Dinner with John

In a little test to make sure my heart is doing better (it seems to be doing much better so far), I decided to reconnect with one of my oldest friends. John and I met for dinner at this really cool restaurant that I had no idea existed.

It's like, just on a street, in a neighborhood, not too far from my house. I parked in front of some dude's lawn.

I didn't realize such a thing was possible these days. Most places are moving out of the area. It was also a bit jarring to be next to people's houses and going to a restaurant and then across the street is one of the biggest churches I've ever seen.

After "Here is the church" they decided to really overdo "HERE IS THE MOTHERFUCKIN' STEEPLE!!!"

They probably didn't curse though.

Or maybe they did.

That could have been Our Lady of the Rancid Tongue and their greeting could be "Praise Jesus and fuck you."

Probably not.

And then the restaurant, Hendel's, was a real treat. Just a very cool vibe. I couldn't figure out how to actually enter the place as the front door was inaccessible.

Thankfully John knew to go through the rear. The church is probably really judgy about that.

I'm getting a lot of jokes out of this church.

On the side of the building they have a really cool mural...

But, apparently, they didn't care for the aesthetic of the power meters so they painted those to match the brick.

Which I thought was quite clever.

When we were ordering I had already decided I was going to get a birthday steak in honor of my dad. Every year on my birthday he would grill me a steak. And though it is about a month late, I still wanted to make that happen.

But then John said he was paying.

And I said, "You can't pay, I'm getting a steak."

And he said, "I can get you a steak."

And then I felt guilty for not just ordering a water and eating bread. (I was raised to be highly embarrassed by generosity. But I'm working on it.)

When the waiter asked how I wanted my steak done I asked, "What is the least amount you can cook it?" And then he said, "We can do rare." And I was like, "I would like it rare." And then the waiter gave me a look as if to say, "Are you sure about that?" But when one asks a question like that, there is an assumed level of certainty that you want your steak to moo when it arrives.

We bonded over both losing our dads. Sometimes it is nice when you have a shared experience, even if it is a sad one, to just be able to talk without the bullshit. On occasion, dealing with people who aren't sure what to say can drain the emotional batteries. And when you have someone who... just knows... it is a lot easier.

It was a nice night out. I realized it was my first time in a restaurant in over a decade. And I had just enough energy to make it through dinner. I had been working on my house all week and I was dangerously close to using up what last bit of energy I had. Which is why I collapsed into bed immediately after getting home and have stayed there since Thursday night.

But as the folks at OLRT would say, "Fuck the consequences, I had fun. Praise the goddamn Lord."

[bvidzsoo]

Marionette

The second star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female reader

☆ Warning: nudity, cursing, consensual smut, corruption kink, blood, violence, cutting off a hand, allusion to pedophilia (but he pays for it lol karma is a bitch)

☆ Word count: 8.6k

☆ Rating: nsfw

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Yeosang is Aphrodite's son, forbidden relation

☆ Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Second instalment of this series is here, and I swear to God this is the last time I write it in one setting bcz my wrist is falling off currently lol. I really really like this part, I am so curious to hear what you all think of it ! I genuinely appreciate your feedback, and the ones you've left on the previous part legit had me giggling and in tears, I love you all! <3 The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. This is a small side note, but I've read not too long ago a Yungi story that is absolutely amazing and is a Greek mythology au, and whenever I'm writing a part for this series I get reminded of it, so, let me share it with you if you are curious to read it, it's so good!! I'll point out a few things before I let you read the story:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Hera is the Goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth ★ Athena is the Goddess of war, handicraft, and wisdom and the patroness of Athens ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Dionysus is the God of wine-making, orchards and fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre ★ Tartarus lies far beneath the disk of the world, under Hades' underworld, it's used as the ultimate of prisons, unpleasant and inaccessible ★ Elysian Fields is part of the underworld and is where the good go ★ Athenai are a group of women who followed and worshiped Athena ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ★ (Athens is the capital city of Greece) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @madebysvt

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Right by the foothill of Mount Olympus and just a few hours away from the lively village of Dion, hidden in a little meadow of the evergreen forest, almost a day long walk from Lake Naia, lay the fun house of Dionysus. Men and women, Gods and Goddesses were welcomed here, scrutinizing and judgmental eyes turning into indifferent and lustful ones, whatever your heart desired a possibility to become reality if whispered to the right person or deity. Selfless and desperate men found solace in the caresses of nymphs that ventured down from Mount Olympus to the fun house, desperate to get away from the clutches of merciless deities that took advantage of them at the smallest chance given. Gods and Goddesses who were tired of the mistreatment enabled by their superiors and were in desperate need of a night where they could let go, often stumbled through the threshold of the fun house. Dionysus loved calling it a fun house because that’s what it truly was, a house that offered you whatever you had in mind when you thought of the word fun. It came in the form of alcohol, music, entertainment and dancing, but it also came in the form of wanton moans, desperate touches, and whispered climaxes. Whatever you had in mind, you’d probably find it at the fun house. The wine was unlimited here as long as you left something of yours behind and promised to return for another fun time, making you rather addicted to the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you anticipated your reward. Whether this was in the form of a beautiful nymph or innocent maiden, a hunky man that liked it rough or a young lad whose touch was soft, or perhaps the unlimited alcohol that intoxicated your mind and sometimes killed you before your time…it was all the visitors choice. Dionysus took great pleasure in watching the mere mortals crumble at his feet, and he loved it even more when he managed to break a deity beyond the point of madness.

Everyone here knew who I was. The empty jug lay next to my hand almost mockingly as my eyes bore into the table, head slightly buzzing and ears ringing from the loud music the few drunken musicians attempted to play. The harp had a beautiful sound if in the hands of someone that could yield it, but the one mortal that attempted to play it here made it sound borderline scratchy, fingers caressing the strings rather unprofessionally. Despite how crowded the fun house was, not a soul took it upon themselves to share a table with me, and I understood why. I wasn’t necessarily here for company, especially not that of a man, but it would’ve felt nice to lay my worries upon an ear willing to listen. I knew the sharp daggers secured onto the belt around my waist intimidated men, but I expected women to be more than willing to share stories with me. After all, it wasn’t a secret to anyone that I was part of the Athenai, Athena’s loyal followers, the leader of a cult that brought forth possibilities for women eager to become more than what their society instilled on them.

A rather young girl passed by the table, head hanging low as she clutched the large jug of wine to refill the thirsty men’s glasses, and I watched closely as she walked between the tables, pouring more wine for the one’s asking. She was young, too young for a place like this, but I figured her family was living scarcely and they needed every little penny they could get. Knowing the nature of the men that were so eager to frequent places as such, it came as no surprise when the young girl’s shoulder was clutched by a calloused hand, yanking her back violently. The girl’s eyes widened in panic as she looked up, clutching the jug to her chest as if afraid to spill anything. It was pure instinct by now to draw my weapons at the sight of a female getting harmed, and it came as no surprise when I felt my blood boil underneath my skin. The man that dared touch the little girl was laughing, gripping her chin and trying to force her to sit down at his table filled with six more men, all watching her with a predatory glint in their eyes. Athena has taught me her virtues, has passed her beliefs onto me, raised me as a strong and independent woman, one that would not sit idly by and watch an innocent soul get harassed, especially if so young. The cult of Athenai have sworn celibacy to Athena, and have sworn to protect maidens and women in dire danger until their last breath.

I moved stealthily, barely leaving a breeze in my wake as I stood from the table, eyes burning anyone that dared look my way, right hand gripping the handle of my most loved dagger. Hephaestus was a marvelous craftsman, every piece of armor was designed by Athena and myself, and then later on perfected and strengthened by him. I had great trust in my weapons and my abilities, having led a war by Athena’s side more than once. As I made my way towards the table full of vile men, the little girl’s body had started shaking as she struggled to fill their glasses with wine, the man that was holding her had his hand sliding down her fragile body. I tensed my muscles and willed my mind to remain focused, knowing that if I saw red right now, not even one man would leave this house in one piece. As a quiet and scared whimper left the young girl’s lips, my jaw clenched and I unsheathed my dagger, the other men sitting at the table finally noticing me as I came into their vicinity.

A wide smirk stretched onto my lips as I saw the terror in their eyes, and before they could alert their companion harassing the young girl, my dagger had long come down against the nimble skin of the man, the steel cutting through his flesh and bones, severing the hand he had on the table. The cry that left his mouth was gut-wrenching and it made everyone stop in their tracks, eyes wide as the lively music had cut off at once, the young girl jumping away with watering eyes as the man tried to stand and whirl around. But I just chuckled and grabbed his greasy hair, yanking his head back as I pressed my sharp dagger against his neck, making him suddenly become still. His chest was heaving and he had broken out into a cold sweat, whole body shaking as blood gushed out of his severed limb. I leered, leaning down close to his ear.

“You are in great luck tonight, my friend,” I hissed against his ear, his body reeking of alcohol and grime, “I cannot kill you unless you do something unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean I cannot teach you a lesson, you stupid mortal.”

The man had started sobbing, snot running down his nose and into his mouth as he tried to splutter out apologies, his companions frozen as they didn’t know whether to help him or not. I pressed my dagger just a little more against his skin, making sure to draw blood as the man cried out in agony again, making me grin widely as I released him, but not before banging his head against the table hard enough to knock him out. His companions jumped to their feet and rushed over to the passed-out man as I turned my head to search for the young girl, finding her cowering behind a woman that was silently crying. I wiped down the blood from my dagger onto the white cloth I had hidden in my pocket as I walked towards the two, motioning for the woman to step aside. She did so quickly, revealing the young girl to me. I sighed as I leaned down to be eye level with her, gently wiping her tears off her face.

“Do not cry child, you’re safe now.” I muttered to her gently, unlatching a satchel from my belt, “Take this and head to Athens tomorrow, take your family with you if needed. Pray to Athena tonight and tell her that her most trusted apprentice saved you from a vile man, ask for her blessings and protection.”

“Won’t she want something in return?” The girl’s voice was shaky as she reluctantly accepted the coins, probably the sum more than she’s ever made here at the fun house. I smiled and gave a pat to her head as I stood up straight again.

“You are a smart girl; Athena will like that.” I hummed, fixing her hair behind her head, tilting her chin up to look in her eyes, “If you wish to be strong and able to protect yourself, all you have to offer to Athena is a promise to remain a maiden, child, and she will have you. You’ll thrive under her cult and you’ll have a good life in Athens.”

Gratitude graced the young girl’s face and she bowed her head deeply, bending at her middle to go even lower, making me smile at her display of gratitude, “Thank you, my heavenly protector.”

I chuckled as I gave a last pat to the girl’s head, looking around the still deadly silent fun house. I grinned and took my leave, knowing that the mood would be ruined as I wasn’t welcomed anymore for the night. When I reached the door, I turned around and bowed mockingly before I was out of the crowded and warm house, welcoming the cool breeze of the summer night. As the door closed behind myself, the music picked back up and the chatter and shouts resumed like nothing had happened, and I took a moment to clear my mind. I headed to the corner of the house and leaned against its structure, sighing as I looked up at the stary night, wondering whether I should return to Olympus now, or head back to Athens myself. But something snapped next to me and the unmistakable aura of an Olympian God invaded my sense, forcing my body to remain alert as I gently clutched the handle of my dagger.

“No need for that, dear,” I slightly relaxed at the familiar deep voice, but failed to spot the figure in the pitch-black night, “I am not here to harm you—or any of the women you protect.”

“Then why are you here?” I snapped back, growing a little irritated that the God wasn’t showing himself to me.

“I’m here to collect a very dear soul.” The deep voice answered back, sounding amused at my irritation as the nauseating scent of tobacco filled my nose. Sometimes, I wondered whether Death was timeless, whether he could travel between times unseen and unknown to us. Even as deities, we couldn’t predict the future nor if we truly were everlasting, but there was a glint in Death’s eyes that held secrets nobody but him knew about.

“I didn’t kill the man, you don’t have to snitch on me—” His deep giggle cut me off, and there he was, finally, showing himself to me as he stepped out of the shadows. His body was clad in a midnight black suit, tailored to fit his body perfectly as if it was his second skin. He had cut his hair shorter sometime not long ago, and it stood up in a way that made him look like he didn’t belong amongst us. Hades’ sharp eyes were crinkled as he smiled widely, his front teeth crooked as the cigar hung loosely between his teeth.

“I’m not here for that man,” Hades chuckled as the cigar bobbed with every word he said, “he’s going straight to Tartarus. I’m here for someone else.”

I followed his line of sight as he gazed inside the fun house through the window, eyes settling on an old man who was smiling and chatting by the bar with a beautiful young woman, “He’s lively, but his heart has weakened. I hope he hasn’t forgotten about our little trade back when he was still youthful and handsome.”

“You love making trades.” I sighed under my breath as I watched Hades grin, then take a long drag of his strongly smelling cigar. I never dared ask where he got those from, I never saw anyone else smoking them. It felt like it was somehow beyond me and our times, like it was better if I stayed naïve. Hades was an enigma nobody could fully decipher; it was best if you didn’t ask many questions. He had a way with his words, he could easily trick you into trades and deals that were only beneficial to him. The tale of signing your soul away to him unassumingly was more common than not, and I appreciated my life, cherished it dearly even.

“That I do, indeed.” He hummed, sharp and dark eyes falling on me again. He also loved flirting with people that he wasn’t supposed to flirt with, “Still worshiping the lovely Athena?”

I snorted under my breath, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned against the building again, “It’s what I was created for.”

“Ah, yes,” Hades hummed, taking a long drag of his cigar, smoke wafting up in the air around us, “my bitch of a sister sure loves sending out other people to do the dirty work for her. If only Zeus wasn’t such a man-whore—”

“You speak rather freely, Mingi.” I narrowed my eyes at the God of death, interrupting what was supposed to be his inner monologue.

“Of course, I do.” He chuckled upon hearing his real name leave my lips, throwing the cigar onto the ground as he stepped on it. I’ve seen him do that many times, yet I still haven’t figured out why he did that, “What? What are they going to do to me? Banish me? Chase me away? Kill me? Death is everlasting, my dear, just as birth is. Even when you will stop existing, I’ll be still here. I’m one with Gaea. Unlike many of our kin, I do not need to be worshipped to exist.”

That made me think, made my mind dwell on thoughts that they weren’t supposed to dwell on, “Are you saying we won’t always be here?”

“I’d love to chat more with you, my dear.” Mingi smiled mischievously, his eyes narrowing into playful slits as he stepped closer, caressing my cheek gently. He was perhaps the only man that’s ever touched me—the one I willingly allowed to touch me—his touch lacking the lust no other man could even as much so as hide, “But my old man really needs to go now, and Hera’s called for you.”

“Are you stealing Hermes’ job now?” I chuckled, patting his hand before I removed it, dusting my hands off.

“No,” Mingi chuckled, shaking his head, “I’d rather die then be the messenger of these bored deities that love beefing with each other for no reason.”

“Do you reckon why my mother is asking for me?” I raised an eyebrow as I chuckled at Mingi’s humor.

“No idea, but she looked beyond devious.” He sighed, slowly stalking towards the entrance of the fun house, Dionysus would certainly hate that there would be two deities tormenting his fun house tonight, “Perhaps has something to do with lovely Aphrodite.”

I hummed, nodding my head in goodbye as Mingi disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the darkness of the night. Well, off to Mount Olympus I was.

            And Mingi was right, my mother did summon me due to something concerning Aphrodite. The palace was brightly lit despite it being after midnight by the time I made it home, and my steps were silent against the marble stones despite how lightly I walked. Athena made sure teach me that. As I had knocked on the door of my mother’s bedroom, it opened up instantly and allowed me inside. She sat on her sofa, snacking on some grapes as her two servants fanned her with big leaves, looking stoic and avoiding eye contact at all costs. My mother’s mouth pulled into a wide smile upon seeing me, her eyes a bright color and glimmering under the divine light. I fixed my posture and bowed my head in respect as I walked closer to her, the armor I wore completely the opposite of her satin indigo dress.

“Daughter,” She cooed, her voice warm and loud in the confines of her bedroom, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

That was true, indeed, she only met me when she needed something from me. I wasn’t to any use for her unless she was sending me out to kill the people she didn’t like, or have tried to bewitch her bellowed husband. I have long come to terms with the fact that Athena was more of a motherly figure than my own mother would ever be.

“Indeed, mother, how may I help you this time?” I asked emotionlessly, resting my hand on the handle of my dagger as it brought me comfort.

My mother chuckled as she raised her hand, the servants stopping their actions, “Out.”

They wasted no time in scurrying out, and I watched as they bowed deeply to my mother then to me, and fled the room at last. My mother sat up, pushing her dark brown hair behind her shoulders, her satin dress falling down on one shoulder. She was a Goddess almost as beautiful as Aphrodite, Hera could have anyone she wanted. Many worshipped her and tried to whisk her away from Zeus, but she only had eyes for that tyrant.

“Well, now that it’s just the two of us,” Hera chuckled, her expression twisting into something sly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Aphrodite’s children, my daughter.”

“I have.” I confirmed as I raised an eyebrow at my mother. I have even met a few, but they weren’t very likeable, much like their mother.

“What about Yeosang?” My mother’s voice dripped with venom, palms curling into fists.

“Mere tales whispered by naiads is all I know of him.” I answered, gulping when my mother raised to her feet, a deity easily taller than most men. She stepped off her pedestal and slowly approached me, hand extending as she cupped my cheek. Unlike Mingi’s tender caress, hers was cold and borderline painful.

“I have a very important mission for you, my daughter.” My mother’s eyes sparkled with a vicious glint, teeth showing as she leered, “Someone had spoken ill of poor Aphrodite and she wants the man dead. But we know she never directly dirties her hands, and instead sends one of her children. Yeosang is her most prized child, my daughter, I need you to go find him, and kill him.”

I withheld the snort that threatened to bubble past my lips, impressed by my mother’s ignorance and the irony of her words. Wasn’t she sending me out to take care of her dirty business? The hatred between the two Goddesses runs deep, the two never settling their differences and finding ways to torment not just each other, but those around themselves as well. I was raised to hate Aphrodite, by my mother at least, because Athena’s teachings taught me different things. I wasn’t supposed to hate no woman, nor Goddess, but my mother couldn’t know that. I was more loyal to Athena than to her anyway.

“Is he going down to the mortals?” I questioned and pulled my head back slowly to get rid of my mother’s uncomfortable caress against my cheek. She hummed, giving me a scrutinizing look as her eyes took me in, a small grin spreading onto her lips.

“You’ve become a fine warrior, my daughter, I knew handing you over to Athena was a smart choice.” My mother sighed happily, eyes hardening at once, “You cannot fail me, my daughter, Aphrodite never lets Yeosang out of her sight, this is your one and only chance to kill him for me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” I bowed my head and my mother hummed, turning her back to me as she walked back towards her sofa.

“He’s in Dion, you’ll find him at the brothel in the East side of the village.” She sat back on her sofa, snapping her fingers as the doors opened instantly, the two servants rushing back inside, “And do not worry about recognizing him, you’ll know once you see him. He resembles Aphrodite a lot.”

And perhaps my mother hated that even more than the fact that Aphrodite was more beautiful than her. I didn’t worry about recognizing Yeosang, amongst mortals, an Olympian could be easily picked out in a crowd.

            Life in the village compared to the life of the Olympians was rather lamentable. Few people were well-off to live in spacious mansions that resembled the homes of the Olympians, as most of these mortals lived in humble and small cottages. But no matter how poor or rich, the nightlife in Dion never lacked as inns and brothels were overfilled with rowdy and insatiable people. I had disguised myself as a maiden of the village, a simple white dress that’s seen better days replacing the armor that felt like a second skin and brought me comfort. I felt exposed as my dark hair flowed freely against my shoulders and back, making me more vulnerable as anyone could easily grab onto it. The only time I wore it like this was when I bathed, in a battle you couldn’t allow anything to distract you. The sleeves of my dress were long, covering my arms as my two daggers were strapped tightly against the inner parts of them, I would never willingly bear myself vulnerable around anyone I didn’t trust.

Since I was disguised, nobody could tell that I was Hera’s daughter and Athena’s apprentice, making men boldly approach me and try to flirt their ways into bedding me for the night. I hated every single second of it, narrowly avoiding their touches and turning down their offers in a charming manner, not wanting to anger anyone and draw attention onto myself before I was done with what I was here for. The brothel was overspilling with people at the ungodly hour of the witches, and it turned out to be a hard task to find Aphrodite’s son, Yeosang. I didn’t know who I was looking for, but I would know upon seeing him. After walking around and watching the crowd carefully, I let the people push me towards the bar as I ordered a pint of beer for myself, leaning against the surface as I surveyed the crowd once again. The music was loud and the dancing people grew in number as others disappeared upstairs, occupying the empty rooms for mere seconds of pleasure. I had just taken a sip of the rather bitter beer, when an overwhelming feeling of warmth made me look up alarmed. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to pinpoint the direction it was coming from, my blood boiling underneath my skin as a weird sense of calmness tried to push through my alert disposition. My heart was racing and my ears had started ringing at once, and I knew the few sips of beer weren’t the cause of it. I was in the presence of another divinity. And upon realizing this, through the dancing people emerged an ethereal looking man.

The seemingly white glow that no mortal seemed to notice was almost alarming, coating his skin fair and making it glow as the softest and gentlest smile settled on his blood-red lips upon noticing me. Even from a distance, his eyes were gentle and warm in color, golden swirling around his irises as he graciously walked closer, hands clasped in front of him. Somebody crashed into him, but instead of screaming and pushing them away, he continued smiling as his lips moved slowly, probably reassuring the person that it was no problem. His hair fell around his face in a light brown curtain, framing his forehead and cheekbones as his nose was petite, his jawline sharp. My grip tightened around the pint of beer, suddenly my heart racing in my chest as the warmth I have felt previously only worsened the closer the deity walked. I found myself struggling to intake air, as if the man had his grip around my throat, refusing me the air I desperately needed. His smile only widened as I felt my legs weaken, the man now standing in front of me. His scent was sweet like honey and roses, overpowering the unpleasant odor coming from the humans.

“Another deity,” His voice was deep, unlike his soft features and what you’d expect to hear from him, “it’s rare any comes down to this brothel.”

“You’re here too.” I found my voice, completely surprised by how breathy it sounded. I gulped and took a quick sip of my beer, hoping it would help fix the dryness of my throat. The deity, Yeosang, watched my action closely, chuckling lowly as his lips pursed. The longer I looked at his face, the more I understood why he was Aphrodite’s favourite child. He was beyond perfect and gracious, well-mannered, and soft spoken. Perhaps if Aphrodite didn’t exist, he’d be Aphrodite instead. But nobody, no mortal or deity, could be prettier than the Goddess of beauty herself, and I noticed with mild surprise that Yeosang had a blood-red discoloration around his left temple in the shape of an almost heart.

“Are you here to satiate your vices?” His warm eyes shifted onto the beer again, and I chuckled, looking down at it too. I had to play my part if I wanted to kill him tonight, therefore, I lied.

“Some vices you can never fully satiate.” My expression was serious as my eyes bore into Yeosang’s, “I am tired of the fakeness of the Olympians, I want to feel something real.”

Something alluring flashed inside Yeosang’s eyes as he, too, leaned against the bar, reaching out for my pint of beer, “Mortals are fun little toys—until they start playing Gods and want to replace you.”

“Good thing we are irreplaceable, then.” I grinned as Yeosang chuckled, bringing up the pint to his lips. They parted slowly, his gaze burning into mine, a heated feeling suddenly encompassing my whole being. I have never felt that before, and suddenly I was nervous. Could it be that Yeosang was manipulating me somehow? All deities had powers to a certain extent, but his and mine were limited, we weren’t any major God the mortals ardently worshipped. I tried to reassure myself that it couldn’t have been him as he slowly lowered the pint from his lips, placing it back onto the bar.

“A deity like yourself certainly cannot enjoy that vile thing?!” Yeosang sounded almost appalled as he pressed his bony fingers against his lips, making me chuckle as I pulled the pint back towards myself.

“Someone as sophisticated as yourself would enjoy wine, I suppose.” Yeosang blushed as he hid his mouth with his hand, averting his eyes down to the floor. I smirked, feeling victorious as I raised my hand for the waitress to come over. She was quick on her feet, thankfully, and I swiftly ordered a glass of wine for my prey. My plan was perfectly working out, I didn’t think it’d be so easy to lure him into my trap. Perhaps Aphrodite shouldn’t have kept her precious son so sheltered, he was too naïve for his own good, and it would bring his downfall tonight. As Yeosang shyly looked up, I fixed my expression, trying to look as inoffensive as I could.

“I have always believed there is no point in hiding who we are,” I tensed as Yeosang suddenly leaned forward, invading my personal space as the waitress delivered his glass of wine, “after all, at some point people see through your façade. It usually falls when you think others aren’t watching you, even if it’s the slightest crack, somebody will notice.”

Feeling speechless, I could only watch as Yeosang smiled shyly and took his glass of wine, murmuring a quiet thank you before he took a tentative sip of it. My heart hadn’t stopped hammering against my ribcage ever since he walked over, and I could only pray to Athena that I wouldn’t start sweating now. There was something about Yeosang’s aura that exuded calmness but alure at the same time, and I found it hard to make sense of these new emotions surfacing in my body. Everything tingled and burned, suddenly finding his proximity not close enough, needing him to push me up against a wall and devour me. If Athena were to hear these vile thoughts, she’d be just as disgusted by them as I was. I tried to gulp down the nausea rising up through my stomach, and as I opened my mouth to speak up, a man tumbled into Yeosang. His wine was almost spilled, but he saved it last minute as he helped the man stand up straight.

“Oh,” Yeosang whispered, face lighting up in recognition, “old friend! I thought I have forever lost you to the crowd!”

The man reeked of every odor one could think of, yet Yeosang went and placed his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his side. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as the mortal hiccupped, eyes half lidded as he struggled to stand up straight. The glass of wine was abandoned as Yeosang’s full attention was on the man, and I took a deep breath as I felt my pulse quicken even more. I took a quick glance around myself to make sure nobody was watching us, and then reached inside my dress, finding the hidden vial between my breasts easily.

“You abandoned me, boy!” The man’s words were slurred as he clumsily exclaimed, and I acted in a swift moment, pouring the poison into Yeosang’s glass unnoticed. My fist curled around the vial until I crushed it into small shards, the pain never reaching my skin as it instantly turned into dust. I watched the poison quickly dissolve in Yeosang’s drink just as the deity chuckled and looked back at me. My eyebrows shot up as I quickly smiled, hoping I didn’t look suspicious.

“This old friend of mine loves dancing,” Yeosang chuckled as he maneuvered the man around so that they stood side by side facing me, “I had to abandon him for a while.”

“Yes, you did.” The man’s head fell a little forward before Yeosang steadied him, making me wonder just how strong the deity was. His muscles were lean and not bulging as most Gods liked to look like, yet it was unquestionable that he was rather strong as he held up the man twice his size.

“Old friend, tell me something.”

The old man perked up as he tried to open his eyes more, “What, boy?”

“The young lady you introduced to me earlier,” Yeosang’s smooth voice turned slightly darker, subtly sneering. My eyebrows furrowed as the soft expression swiftly slipped off his face, “what have you said to her?”

“Oh!” The drunk man exclaimed, lips pulling into a drunken smirk as he looked at me, eyes raking over my body. I wished to wipe out my daggers and gauge his eyes out, but tonight I had to behave, “That lady cannot be compared in beauty to anyone else, she’s more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.”

The air seemed to freeze around us as my breath halted. Yeosang’s smile turned cold, eyes narrowing as he hummed, his grip on the man’s shoulder visibly tightening, “Hmm, I see.”

I didn’t know what to do as Yeosang turned his head, one eyebrow raised as if in question. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes as I instead grabbed my pint and threw back the remained of my beer. Yeosang’s eyes slowly shifted onto his glass of wine and he paused, then reached out and took the glass. I watched with a hammering heart as he raised it up to his lips, then slowly tilted the glass, the wine almost touching his blood-red lips.

“Drinking in front of your elderly without offering it to them first?!” The old man coughed a little, giving Yeosang a glare as if his respect had been broken. Yeosang froze, then I watched in mild alarm as he lowered his glass, shooting the man an apologetic smile.

“Where have my manners gone?” He shook his head at himself and the man hummed. I opened my mouth to interject into their exchange, but instead felt my jaw fall open in shock as Yeosang forcefully grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it open, pushing his head back by it, pouring the wine down his throat aggressively. I gasped as I watched the man gargle and try not to choke on the poisoned wine, my palms turning into fists as my muscles tensed.

“There, you can have all the wine.” Yeosang snickered, throwing the empty glass onto the floor, it shattering loudly as he slowly turned his head, tilting it to the side. My eyes hardened in an instant as I noticed the change in his demeanor, the serene and innocent look gone from Yeosang’s face as he smirked, leaning towards me, “Those who speak my mother’s name in vain shall be punished, right, Y/N?”

There hasn’t been a time before where a man won over me. I was trained for war, I have fought battles that took the lives of hundreds of men, I have slain men who have mistreated women and yet…a pathetic son of a Goddess had me fumbling in panic as he released the old man who had started heaving for air, clutching his throat. Yeosang stepped back and watched as I caught the old man, eyes wide as the poison rather quickly brought him to his demise. I didn’t know what to do as his body started growing heavier, and when I made eye contact with Yeosang, he was already backing into the crowd with a poisonous glint in his eyes and a vicious smirk on his lips.

He had won this game.

I felt anger surge through my body, but I couldn’t act on my desires to chase after the deity and have his head. And so, I played the part of my disguise as I released the man. Then, I opened my mouth and shrieked.

            The slap stung no more than a battle scar yet had to, and still, my ego was bruised beyond my body has ever been. I gritted my teeth as I refused to cower under my mother’s seething eyes. Something broke next to us and I jumped, not used to my mother’s hysterical displays. Now I understood why Zeus never tried to anger her, and yet still failed miserably each time.

“You wench,” Hera hissed, grabbing my chin and yanking my head forward, “You’re good for nothing.”

I tried not to snort as I looked down, avoiding eye contact. I have never failed before. I was more than good, but she was too blinded by her childish hatred for Aphrodite to actually notice that.

“You are a disgrace and an abomination!” My mother continued to hiss, her grip turning painful on my chin, “Look me in the eyes, you stupid wench!”

Fury licked under my skin, igniting my veins and making me tense my muscles and calm my mind as I yearned to reach for my dagger and push it through her nonexistent heart. I gulped and looked up into her eyes, remaining emotionless like Athena had trained me.

“You are not my daughter.” Hera hissed, leaning in my face, “I banish you from my home, you are never to step foot inside my temple and sanctuary. Perish from in front of my eyes before I turn you into nothing.”

She pushed me away like I have burned her, and I gulped, biting down on my tongue to keep myself calm and level-headed. I didn’t want to turn into nothing, that I knew. So, instead, I bowed my head and took off towards the door, grabbing the handle of my dagger for comfort, “And to think I nourished you and cherished you for nothing.”

My grip faltered around the handle of the door and something coiled in my chest as I took a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from what was about to come out of my mouth. I ripped the door open and chuckled, turning my head to look smugly at Hera, “Thank fuck I won’t have to see your stupid face ever again, you hysterical bitch.”

The scream Hera let out only made me laugh as I slammed the door shut behind me, fury making my body feel like it was on fire. That feeling was only ever present when I was in battle, and protecting women. I felt my whole being vibrate as I left the stupid home of Hera, steps hurried as I knew who to seek out for guidance. I will find Yeosang and I will kill him, Athena may you be my guide and protect me in my quest.

            Hunting came as second nature; I could do it even with my eyes closed. The ground of the forest was solid underneath my feet and the trees tall and offering shade from the blazing sun as I swiftly advanced towards the meadow. There was nothing in this world I couldn’t track and hunt down. Man, woman, animal, deity. Athena had let me know in a whisper where Aphrodite’s pond resided, a place that only her, her nymphs, and Yeosang knew about. The deity often came here to spend the hot days of summer cooling off in the ever-clear Pond of Beauty. Aphrodite had created it herself for her offspring and those that she considered worthy of her treasure. The pond resided close by the foothill of Mount Olympus, on the territory of the Gods and Goddesses. No human could come here, unless they wished for a painful death.

My bow and arrow lay snuggly in my hands as I held onto them tightly, eyes narrowed as I listened closely to the sounds of the forest. The meadow was just one step ahead, I was hiding behind the bushes and the tall trees, eyes surveying the area before I looked out onto the meadow, the pond vast and its water glimmering under the sunlight that fell directly on it. Sweat had gathered on my brows as I took deep breaths, remaining calm as I noticed ripples on the surface of the pond, a head covered in light brown hair slowly surfacing. My heart started hammering against my ribcage as I watched the deity swim around in the pond, a serene look on his face as he seemed to be glowing in the sunlight, his light brown hair turning almost as golden as the swirls in his warm brown eyes. He floated around graciously, his milky skin translucent as it made contact with the water and the sunlight.

I tensed my muscles and drew my right arm back, aiming my arrow towards Aphrodite’s beautiful creation. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, tuning in to the sounds of nature as I relaxed my body, preparing to release the arrow the second my eyes opened. I felt my body move slightly, align in the direction Yeosang was, and I sighed quietly, feeling the warm breeze caress my skin tenderly all of a sudden. The birds seemed to sing louder here, the grass seemed to brush up against my ankles gently, and the breeze carried a soft smell of pomegranates, honey, and roses. I gulped, feeling my lips part in another quiet sigh as suddenly my ears started buzzing, my skin jittery out of nowhere. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, feeling a little unnerved as my body grew warmer and warmer, flesh burning underneath the heavy silver armor. I gulped and willed my mind to focus, to let go of everything that served as a distraction, and opened my eyes as my fingers holding the string had started slipping, about to release the arrow aimed towards the mesmerizing deity.

But when my eyes opened, my body froze as if someone else was controlling it. Yeosang’s brown eyes shone golden as they bore into mine even at the great distance, and I felt my fingers tremble as I reluctantly lowered my weapon. I struggled to breathe as I felt my legs moved forward, guiding me towards the pond, away from the safety of the trees and the high grass. There was something very wrong as my skin burned and my heart raced, and I couldn’t stop myself from approaching Yeosang. His blood-red lips pulled into a faint smile as my hand raised to undo my bun, my dark hair falling down and fawning my back as I sighed in content. Another step towards him had me unclasping the silver armor from around my torso, my hands trembling as I couldn’t look away from Yeosang. I felt drawn in, mesmerized, and charmed. A madman would say it was witchcraft, but I couldn’t tell what was happening to me.

Yeosang’s lips parted as he whispered something I couldn’t hear just yet, and I felt my hands undo the bindings of my corset as it soon fell from around my body, leaving it bare for Yeosang’s eyes to drink in my exposed skin. I shivered and my arms got covered in goosebumps as Yeosang’s grin turned wider, beckoning me into the pond as he extended one hand. My mind was screaming at me to stop, to unsheathe my dagger from my belt and throw it at Yeosang, but instead, my body moved on its own as I undid my belt and then the bindings of my pants, stopping for a second to push down the garment after I stepped out of my boots.

Yeosang’s tongue darted out to lick at his blood-red lips, and I gasped as my feet came in contact with the cold water of the pond. I was bare in front of a man, walking towards him, offering myself up to him. What I was doing was forbidden, I would be banished and probably killed, but I couldn’t stop. No matter how much I wanted to, my body didn’t stop moving towards Yeosang. The cold water clung to my overheated skin and my heart pounded in my chest as I couldn’t feel the soil underneath my feet anymore. I was forced to swim further inside the pond. I wanted to stop, but my body wouldn’t until it reached Yeosang. My lips trembled from both fright and the cold, and the closer I got to Yeosang, the wider his grin got. He was preening at me, eyes flashing golden like his hair in the sunlight, and suddenly, I was face to face with him. I shuddered out a breath, chest contracting as I tried to yank myself far away from him, but suddenly the water felt like it had hands and had immobilized me to my spot.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice carried amusement, eyes twinkling in the same manner, “it’s rude to impose on someone that’s bathing.”

I couldn’t find my voice, my throat had gone dry, my whole body was trembling. I couldn’t be seen bare by any man or deity, I had to kill Yeosang. I would be never forgiven if I didn’t, if he touched me…I would be punished for an eternity.

“Why are you here?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering himself under the water until his eyes and hair were visible only. I tried to calm my frantic heartbeat, to regulate my breathing once again.

“I’m here to kill you.” I hissed out, eyes hardening as Yeosang pushed his head above water, giggling.

“Without your armor, you’re nothing but a woman, Y/N.” My blood boiled under my skin, and I wasn’t trembling from the cold anymore, it was from anger. My jaw clenched as I glared at Yeosang, still trying to break free of this invisible spell he’s put on me.

“Is this where your mask slips and you show just how rotten you are at your core?” Yeosang’s head lulled back as he laughed, water dripping from his hair once he faced me again.

“You think I’m doing something to you,” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as his eyes darkened, just like at the brothel. He didn’t look innocent anymore, he looked menacing and dangerous, “but I am not. The pond brings out your deepest, darkest desires.”

Something coiled in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up, mortified at what Yeosang was implying, “How dare you?! I am an Athenai, I have sworn to serve Athena. I have no such desires like the one you’re implying I have—”

I stiffened as Yeosang reached out, his warm fingertips softly touching my skin, “Then why is your skin ablaze? Why does your flesh sing to me to come closer? To feel you? To touch you? To devour you?”

I gasped as Yeosang swum uncomfortably close, palm caressing my cheek bigger than it, eyes boring into mine as I felt unraveled by the simplest touch, “Why do you want me to fill you up here until you’re a begging mess, until you have forgotten who you are?”

It felt like the sunlight was cut off and my neck was snapped into half, when, underwater, I felt nimble fingers trace the outline of lips untouched before, slipping between them and drawing out a sound that’s never left my mouth before, “Why does it throb for me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against my ear as I moaned loudly, head falling back when his fingers touched a spot that had the name of Gaea on my lips, praying to be forgiven for the sins I was committing, “Kill me with your bare hands, Y/N, and I shall grant you one wish.”

I whimpered as I finally felt released by the clutches of the water, hands flying out as I clung onto Yeosang’s shoulders, eyes screwing shut when the heel of his palm pressed harder against my core, massaging it in a circular motion, toes curling at the blinding feeling that had my whole body on fire like no battle could ignite it. Yeosang’s blood-red lips pressed against the vein pulsating in my neck, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to muffle the sounds I was making as he dipped his fingers lower, prodding at a hole I didn’t know existed before, “Yeosang.”

“Say my name, my goddess.” Yeosang growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as I felt him grip onto my hip with his free hand, “Tell me how badly you want me dead.”

I moaned as one finger slowly slipped inside that hole, my mouth falling open in a loud gasp as I felt my muscles contracting, clenching down on his digit, “I shall skin you alive and deliver you to your mother myself.”

Yeosang moaned as his lips left my neck, eyes boring into mine as he faced me again. His hand from my hip slowly slipped down onto my thigh and he guided it around his own hip, flushing our bodies together as he moved his finger in and out, making my eyebrows furrow at the unusual pleasure that erupted in my whole body.

“If you do,” Yeosang whispered against my lips, gently biting my bottom lip, “I shall persuade Athena to forgive you for your sins.”

I gasped as the pace of his finger quickened, his thumb pressing on the bundle of nerves again, and his name echoed in the meadow as I cried it out loudly, body shaking from the overwhelming new feelings I haven’t felt before, “Oh, Yeosang.”

“I know,” He whispered, suddenly his finger gone from my throbbing core, and I whined as my eyes flew open, searching his face for an explanation. His golden eyes had glazed over and were a dark brown, his skin and hair not that bright anymore as clouds shielded the sun for us, almost as if they were shielding us from the eyes of the Gods and Goddesses themselves, “it’s overwhelming for the first time, but you’re doing so well for me, my goddess.”

He guided my other leg too around his hip, and I anchored myself against his lean body as I crossed my ankles behind his bottom. I could feel something hard and heavy press against my thigh and Yeosang smirked, pushing the hair out of my face as his lips pressed against mine featherlike, experimentally. My heart was beating fast, skin on fire as I felt the hard member line up at the entrance Yeosang’s finger had been inside previously, and I gulped, feeling fear for the first time in my life. No man, no battle, no war was scarier than the sin I was about to commit. But I wanted it. I knew now, I’ve always wanted it, I’ve just been repressing it desperately in honour of my oath.

“Yeosang, my god, take me.” It was a bare plea against his lips, and then they were devouring mine, coaxing them open as his tongue slid against mine at the same time as my hole was stretched open as the hard and heavy member seemed to split me apart at once, drawing out whimpers of pain as Yeosang’s lips tried to muffle them. I felt full, yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough as his hands gripped my hips bruisingly, guiding me up and down on his member as Yeosang whimpered, tongue tangled with mine as the painful sting in my core resided, but wasn’t as bad as it had been a second ago.

“Promise yourself to me and you shall live.” Yeosang’s low voice demanded as he mercilessly slammed my hips down, turning my mind into a jumbled mess as I was impaled again and again, wondering if the slice of my dagger would ever come close to this feeling.

“I am protector of maidens and women,” I groaned as a hand groped at my exposed chest, fiddling with the nipple, my nails digging into Yeosang’s back until they drew blood, “I will never promise myself to a man.”

“Then savor this feeling,” Yeosang hissed, and a yelp mixed with a loud moan left my throat as the next thrust was sharp, hitting a spot that had my hips moving more desperately on its own, trying to set a faster rhythm than the one Yeosang tried to set, “because Athena is on her way here, and when you leave this pond, you’ll be dead.”

My fingers slipped into his hair and I yanked on the wet strands, moaning as the new pace kept hitting that spot again and again, my mind wishing for nothing but to bring pain to Yeosang, “And you’ll be dying with me, my god.”

Yeosang moaned as I slammed my lips against his, painful and bruising as our teeth clanked together, noses pressing harshly against each other as I found it harder and harder to make sense of my thoughts as I had started succumbing to the pleasure completely.

Whether the promise of giving myself to Yeosang slipped past my lips or not, the clouds were witness to it, and Athena’s arrow would be the judge of it when Judgment Hour comes. Perhaps Hades would be sweet enough to let me reside in the Elysian Fields in the afterlife, “Does it feel real now?”

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[crguang]

Can I request a SFW Kafka x gn!reader with number 8 "look at me. I love you." from the fluff request and number 92 "it was always you. No matter how many times I disagreed, it was always you." from the angst one? :3

-🧸

cant believe i finally wrote this i wanted it to be extra nice for you and ended up being scared to write it at all hadbskhdf but who doesn't love new beginnings and a set up for "fell first" "fell harder" with kafka

Round lenses soften the blinding sun rays that warm your skin and paint the world an unnatural rose color; bustling streets and selling merchants, running children passing you by and yelling mothers following some steps behind, and in front of you, a low ponytail swinging like a metronome with every self-assured step its owner takes. An amalgamation of sounds converge in your ears as you walk through a lively market, a cacophony of mundane chatter that surrounds you from all sides and makes up the lives of the locals on this planet, which eventually fades into barely perceptible background noise. The swaying ponytail that brushes unfurrowed black leather ahead of you holds all of your attention. Hands resting comfortably in the front pockets of your jacket, you follow wine red hair through the dense crowd like a leashed puppy and it never occurs to you to look away. The spider just below, with its numerous thin limbs glued onto the coat, beckons you closer, close enough to see the carefully spinned web around your torso; a trap. The less distance between you, the tighter its hold on you becomes. You are aware of this particularity as Kafka turns to face you, the end of a lollipop on her tongue, and tilts her head with a perfected Mona Lisa smile on her lips. She speaks, you don’t make out her words blended in the market’s ruckus. She outstretches a gloved hand, you take it without question. Spidersilk wraps around your ankles. 

Her right hand glides the bow over the instrument resting on her shoulder, and the melody she creates with her fingers seems composed by your own heart. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is shut, her mind is miles away somewhere inaccessible, but she is speaking to you through the bright notes of her violin. She stands in the middle of the room, fading sunlight clinging to the ends of her hair and the cuffs of her sleeves, her head tilted towards the wooden instrument that has seen the interior of her heart, and you curse every blink that dares hide her from sight for even an instant. You hear her, you want to tell her that you hear her deep within your blood vessels like her music is the oxygen flowing in your body, yet you are rooted to your privileged seat some feet away from her, your palms on your thighs and your gaze drinking her in. You feel at once light and compressed in a tight space where it is impossible to lay down, the dichotomy between these visceral sensations renders you immobile. Her face twitches near her left eye with a misstep your untrained ear doesn’t register and Kafka doesn’t falter as she continues to play the melody of your heart. When the last note rings out and her hand lowers the violin, she doesn’t meet your glossy eyes. You feel webs irritating your throat.

You wonder if there is a hollow pit past the barriers of her being, if her soul is quiet, and if that is why she conceals it behind easy smiles and nonchalance. You wonder, as you sit with your head in your hands and a weight on your chest, if her rejection is effortless because she’s known nothing else. Or maybe it’s you. How pathetic you are, to look for reasons within her when the issue likely lies in yourself, but you’ve stopped fighting for fairness when you turned old enough to hold a firearm. You are caught in her silk and she is suffocating you. Such fragile material wrapped around your throat, you must be weaker than you thought. She is everywhere; in the passenger seat on the way back from a mission, mere rooms away in each safehouse you stay in, sprawled all over your thoughts until your mind is more hers than it is yours. You can’t escape the ache in your bones after a failed attempt to see through the opaque walls she sits on, looking down on you with a blank gaze. And despite the helplessness, you try again. 

You remember one night, in an alley at the back of a bar, pulsing bass muffled by its rusty door, the smell of alcohol mixed with a hundred bodies’ sweat is overshadowed by the cigarette Kafka lights up. She brings it to her lips, inhales, and the smoke that leaves her mouth only cloaks her features for a few seconds but fresh tobacco fills your nose almost instantly. Her gaze turns to yours and she lifts her hand in invitation. You take the cigarette from her. Your lips wrap around where hers have just been, and because of this moment’s indulgence, you inhale for too long at once. You think you hide the mistake well. Kafka smiles. Her fingertips graze your own as she takes back her cigarette.

“Wanna go back?” She asks, leaning back on the brick wall of the building and releasing gray tendrils of smoke into the air. You shake your head. “Mmm. Me neither.”

In the darkness, with only the back door’s overhead light flickering near you, you rely on the picture perfect model of her in your mind to fill in the part of her face untouched by the unstable yellow light. 

“I think I’ve relaxed enough for one night.”

“Oh, really? Does that mean you won’t call that pretty redhead?”

You look away from her amused expression and stare ahead at the identical brick wall across from where you stand. “What would be the point?”

“To have fun. I think I saw her fall for you a little bit in there.”

“Falling in love is stupid.”

“Isn’t it?”

Kafka blows her smoke in your direction. You turn to meet her eyes through the fumes and like always, you don’t have a clue what’s simmering within them. The bangs over her eyebrows brush her skin with every movement of her head and each silky strand is closer to her than you’ll ever be. You glance at her mouth despite yourself, observe the way her lips close around her cigarette as she takes a drag, and Kafka watches you watching her. She slows down like the world around you, keeping the smoke past her lips for a couple seconds longer than usual before softly exhaling in your face. The smell does nothing to you anymore other than provoke a fleeting tightness in your chest. The bar music has faded away because most things stop in their tracks when you look at her. You stare at each other for an extended moment, in a dark alley on a planet you’ll be robbing of its future tomorrow, and the quiet attempts to cover a vulnerable truth you are both already aware of. 

“Yeah,” you reply after too long, unable to distinguish the colors around her pupils. “I’m too smart for that.”

Kafka smiles. “Yeah, you are.”

You don’t like smoking, even if you gesture for the cigarette she holds between her fingers. Kafka never offers you one after that night. 

The next evening, gunpowder replaces the familiar scent of burning tobacco. Your vision blurs, sometimes closing entirely before you’re jolted awake by two sharp slaps to your right cheek. The stimuli in your ears is distorted as you walk on the edge of unconsciousness, lying on the cool ground of a manufacturing facility. You blink once and the second takes a while to come. Above you, Kafka’s features are hazy. There’s the same smile on her lips when your eyes try to focus on her face, and in your dizzy state, you don’t note the strained edge at the corners of her mouth. Her hands press on your lower abdomen and the acute pain that shoots through your torso makes you cough, the taste of iron at the back of your throat. You shut your eyes with furrowed brows, then receive another couple of firm slaps to your face.

“..ay awake,” there’s a ringing in your ears now, but you make out Kafka’s raspy voice through the fog of your mind. “Thought you were too smart for...”

You don’t hear the rest of what she says and the sight of her moving lips turns dark as you finally lose consciousness. 

When you wake, you don’t recognize your surroundings. Your stomach area aches, but the pain isn’t as severe as it was the last time you were conscious. It takes some time for your eyes to blink open, the effort too great to execute at once, and your lashes flutter with the movement until you’re able to see the white paint peeling off the wall across from the bed you lie on. There’s little light in this space, the outside world is hidden under a layer of paper journals glued to the only window in the room. The faint rays of morning light illuminate the end of the bed where your legs are covered by a thin blanket and the figure to your left wiping dried blood from her sunglasses. Your throat is dry, you can only stare at Kafka sitting on a plain stool at your bedside without acknowledging your state. She isn’t wearing her coat, and her shoulders are bare and tainted with a few streaks of crimson she hasn’t bothered cleaning up during the hour you were transported to this place. Her hands are free from the silk gloves she wears like a second skin. The cuffs of her sleeves are dark with blood. Yours, you think, from when she stopped the bleeding of your abdomen earlier. The events preceding your injury come back to you like a mocking slideshow emphasizing your foolishness; the Stellaron was secured and in the chaos of your exit, you took a blow meant for Kafka. You remember her surprise mirrored by your own, how her eyes widened an inch and her gaze dropped to your stomach, then yours following her line of sight right after. You didn’t think before placing yourself in front of her and were too shocked to register the sound of her guns hitting the ground as her hands reached for you and stopped your fall. 

The air is filled with uncomfortable confessions that don’t need to be uttered— yours, always yours. Your abdomen is bandaged, no longer bleeding profusely from having protected her without a thought and she sits at your bedside, pretending to care for her dirty sunglasses. She is a picture of disinterest, if it isn’t for the way she never meets your eyes. The elephant in the room grows the longer it is left unaddressed. After another minute, Kafka lowers her glasses and looks at you below the neck.

“You’re awake, good,” she says, “that means you’re not as badly hurt as we thought. We still have to stay here for a while, though. You gave us quite a scare.”

“Are you mocking me?”

Once again, you feel suffocated. Your voice is groggy and your words are raw, and you stare at her intently, daring her to hold your gaze. Kafka’s small smile is veiled with uneasiness, you know she can sense the emotion bubbling up your esophagus. 

“I was going to say thanks.”

“You can’t even look at me.” She sighs and faces you. Your eyebrows twitch at the unfamiliar spark in her eyes and agitation takes hold of you. You lift a hand to gesture towards her face. “What is that? Guilt? Now you want to feel guilty?”

Kafka doesn’t respond. You continue after swallowing twice. 

“So what if I got hurt because my feelings for you made me stupid for a minute? What does that change for you?”

The silence that follows your declaration irritates you. She averts her gaze with pursed lips and stares blankly at a corner of the room. She’s known what you feel for her for some time, you know she has. You feel crazy pretending not to see her as more than a companion whose fates are intertwined for the time being while she ignores your chances at getting to know her deeper than her guarded surface. She knows who you are, but you’re not worthy of more than mere glimpses at her heart. Now you’ve said it out loud and it can no longer be ignored or dismissed.

“Look at me.” Your chest rises with emotion you don’t want to contain anymore. You steel yourself so that the words don’t trip on their way out of your mouth, refusing to tear your eyes from her still figure. “Look at me.” 

Kafka stares at you. Your features twist, upset, and she doesn’t look away.

“I love you,” you say firmly, “It was always you, okay? No matter how many times I disagreed, it was always you.”

A weight is lifted off your shoulders once you speak the truth. Kafka’s eyes flit between yours, unreadable, as if making sure of your honesty. You don’t shy away from her attention this time, this is who you are and this is how you feel no matter the fact that she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. You’re at least free of holding them in like a terrible secret and can start moving on from this embarrassing situation now that everything has been laid on the table. You blink, unaware of the sheen in your gaze.

“...Why are you crying?” Is all Kafka says a moment later.

You wipe your eyes. “I’m not crying.”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“Say it again. Say you love me.”

You frown. She smiles teasingly at the sight, chuckling to herself, and just like that, some levity settles in the room. Despite being injured, you weakly throw your pillow at her and bite your tongue at the pain the action causes you. Kafka catches it easily.

“What? You were so serious just now. Who knew you could be so charming.”

“Shut up!”

She stands to take a seat at the edge of the bed and flicks your forehead with her middle finger, a softer expression painted on her lips. 

“Next time, no need to play the hero. You can just tell me you love me whenever you like.”

Her words seem conceited, but you’ve spent an egregious amount of time looking at her and you can tell hearing this confession from you makes her happy. She hasn’t refused you outright and is instead observing you like she’s seeing you in a new light, and that is enough for you. Kafka stays in the room until you start complaining about crime and near death experiences making you hungry, to which she rolls her eyes. She still fetches you something to eat. After that day, telling her that you love her gets you the same genuine smile as the first time, and you start figuring out all the ways she expresses her affection in return.

[starlightomatic]

The reason twats like you keep getting threatened with teeth unpacking for calling us cultural Christian is because you fuckers are too stupid to reason with when we tried to explain why we find the term hurtful and you don’t care. So the only way to you filthy fuckers to stop us my being as verbally abusive as possible so you can’t use the term without causing problems for yourself. If about causing so much trouble for you you just give up because it’s not worth it. I’m not sure why you continue to use you knowing how much pain it causes but I’m seriously starting to that Jews don’t have empathy because you don’t care about anyone else. Seriously why all such awful people? So we’ll make your life hell until you stop. And you will stop!!! FUCK YOU!!!!

just gonna pull some quotes: "being as verbally abusive as possible"

"jews don't have empathy"

if this bothered anon as much as they say it does, the healthy choice would be to block all jumblr bloggers and move on. instead, they constantly dredge up discourse from last year and proudly proclaim how verbally abusive they are.

they seek punishment for the people who are supposedly causing them pain, but sometimes on the internet, people will use language when discussing issues that does not play well with an individual's trauma history. in that situation, removing oneself from the triggering content is the correct choice.

however, what happens instead is a sort of transference -- for whatever reason, it feels safer and more comfortable to direct vitriol to jews than to whoever caused the initial injury. a scapegoat is always easier, and this is a classic jewish role. when you live in a society with baseline antisemitism, many people will keep it tamped down most of the time but it can be triggered by situations like this.

to pull that out of the last paragraph, folks like this are not going to their old pastors or youth group leaders or parents to curse them out. those individuals are either inaccessible or would be unsafe to confront in such a manner. jews on the internet are available, and of course, a jew is so annoying one cannot help but attack one. so that's what they go with instead.

[thisisnotthenerd]

great episode; some big story reveals tonight.

cassandra was possessed by some sort of rage spirit that caused her to mutate

that then spread around the mall, rampantly possessing wizards and making them buff

sidenote: the martial squad (fabian, gorgug, riz) did so well in this combat

fig's ancestral curse is from gilear; when she gives inspiration, profound bad luck happens either to her or her environment, accompanied by a sauce stain on her shirt. it is somehow related to the armor of pride that gilear used in the nightmare forest; maybe the curses melded? instead of dying when she gets too proud, fig tries to encourage others and is punished with bad luck.

the 'shatter-stars' are related to an unknown divinity that is somehow tied to the entity that lydia barkrock keeps trapped in her chest.

cassandra thought this entity was dead, and when she died in the time loop, she was 'summoned back to their side'. cassandra may be inaccessible for kristen if she's trapped by this entity.

we know galicaea and cassandra were sister goddesses that presided over the night (the moon, werewolves, patron of elves vs. mystery, night, doubt). perhaps the bbeg this season is an entity that presided over them?

it would tie into the night yorb; maybe the night yorb was a lesser being that gained power from cults in its name?

i could see the naming mechanic e.g. speak not of the night yorb if this was a dead god of some sort that transitioned into another state of being and then was brought back as a god.

the bad kids threw one hell of a party

the fact that aguefort is off on a jaunt means that all of the 'adventurous behavior' is being punished

also adaine doesn't have a job anymore if the synod is destroyed. girl's got to start getting all those elves from fallinel to pay for their prophecies.

[japhugmafia]

To be fair watching conlang youtubers like Agma Schwa or Bibliadrion and Wikipedia pages for conlanging is like learning to write fiction by watching youtube advice and reading plot summaries; again, it's not really snobby, but there's a very low ceiling that you can achieve with these resources at hand.

The conlang community is always unserious with how it treats conlanging—it's just that people treat the artform as a joke. It's just mostly filled with surface-level phonology/phonetics stuff and trivial stuff that they read on Wikipedia/watched online. But when I call them out on this it's somehow 'elitist' because I have such a high standard—or that you need a master's degree understanding to all of it—but no, I'm still applying for undergrad and you just need to read more. Nobody in the writing community tells you to only read plot summaries and watch youtube videos on writing advice, right?

"But these literature are inaccessible" well that's not really an excuse because langscipress has loads of open access grammars for you to read and peruse. There are also open access articles that you can find just by googling things; hell, just go full on jolly roger and find stuff to download—trust me, it's 99% there.

It's alright if you're just having fun, but just remember that you'll never really hit a level that is reasonably high. Reading doesn't really require you to be smart; nor do you need a degree for it—you just need time and dedication to learn about topics that you want to learn. Perusing Wikipedia is only supplementary and will only get you so far.

I just hate how the conlang community usually treats these as an end-all-be-all, especially because most of the mainstream community nowadays treats conlang as if it were not an artform; moreso a competition where people can make the 'most cursed' conlang—where they're not even syntactically weird, just phonologically weird.

[thefirstanomally]

Considering how cursed with tech I am, I now know exactly how I'd play a warlock if I ever got into dnd.

"Treating elements of unfamiliar religions like they're cursed" and "treating unfamiliar technology like they're cursed" are both boring, unfunny, and out. I will approach the tools and rituals of unfamiliar religions like I handle unfamiliar technology.

I'm not gonna touch your printer or your shrine unless you're standing over my shoulder telling me what to do. Prayer books have never cursed anyone but you should not underestimate my ability to somehow operare idiot-proof systems completely wrong. I'll accidentally upload my whole soul in the cloud or something. If a thing has an use and a purpose, I can and will somehow fuck up handling it.

[alicelufenia]

Testing new ways to recruit Minthara in Patch 6 - Part 1 (KO at the grove battle)

First of what may become a series of attempts to find new ways to recruit Minthara on the good playthrough.

Now according to the patch notes:

It's unclear what they mean by "number of valid methods". So far the ONLY valid methods to recruit Minthara are siding with the Goblins (ie the best method) or to knock her out while temporarily hostile. I go on all about it in this post.

So to start I wanted to see if the number of cases where she becomes temporarily hostile have been expanded. And the first method I wanted to test is possibly the coolest way to knock her out; by fighting her and the goblin horde at the grove! I don't need to show any screenshots of that, suffice to say, she was marked fully hostile by the game, and her knocked out status was NOT temporary (ie., said this entity would disappear permanently after a long rest)

So I played the rest out as you normally would; long resting to go to the tiefling party, then heading to the mountain pass, past the undead patrol, into the shadow-cursed lands, summoned Kar'niss, turned on him at the Harpers, yada yada Last Light Inn yada yada Isobel and Marcus.

So I arrive at Moonrise, and while expecting nothing, who do I see?

THERE SHE IS! And wearing her camp clothing cause I stole her armor again lmao (and she didn't wear the blazer of benevolence I reverse-looted into her inventory, cause she'd rather be in her PJs in front of her boss than anything from Volo. Honestly understandable.)

The cutscene plays out normally, but after going down into the prison, freeing her mind and fighting her interrogators

She just... breaks. No dialogue, not interactable, doesn't follow me, nothing. Killing the other guards outside doesn't do anything.

At first I was ready to call this whole attempt bugged (which don't get me wrong, this IS a bug)

But I thought, what if I have her play along (I never did that in my own playthrough) So I reload, and trick the guards instead.

SUCCESS! She's a follower npc now!

We deceive our way out of Moonrise, send her back to camp

Also, incredibly funny that both Astarion and Karlach approve, when Astarion is the only one who voices major objections, and earlier Karlach had this to say at camp before we headed into the prison

I guess seeing her tortured and grateful for being freed warmed Karlach's heart to her. Awww :3

Ladies and gentlemen, we got her

It's not completely without bugs. Karlach and Wyll both didn't have anything to say about Minthara's recruitment, but that might have been because I hadn't exhausted their reactive dialogue beforehand, as they both had things to say about prior events. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale (y'know the regular durge squad) all had their normal reactions.

Also Halsin isn't there cause he's currently at Last Light hanging out with Art. I hadn't even found Thaniel yet. Although I don't anticipate any interactions with those two, as the ultimatum dialogue is still inaccessible, and even if it was, involves an absolutely convoluted way to get both Halsin and Minthara that will almost never happen anyway.

Final Verdict: Recruiting Minthara by KOing her while defending the grove - WORKS!

[vasquez-rocks]

ds9 characters by how they would react to being deaged, as in the tng episode "rascals"

sisko: would be a little annoyed by it at first, but would kind of find it cute to get to have a more sibling-ish relationship with jake temporarily. family is the most important thing!

kira: like ensign ro, i think it would bring up memories of her awful childhood. unlike ensign ro, she was an actual terrorist as a child and her current effectiveness at her job depends on people knowing that she could just shoot them if they disappoint her, so i think she’d just keep pluggin’ away and then have one (1) devastating breakdown when she’s alone with odo about how her real childhood was stolen from her.

dax: would HATE IT SO MUCH. she likes her body! she likes being tall! all her favorite things (drinking, sex, gambling) are inaccessible to children! plus the worm wouldn’t shrink with her so it would probs be really uncomfy to have it in there! fix it! make it better!

odo: he would continue to look the same because his kind does not have childhoods. “are you all right, sir?” a security officer would say after he heard sobbing from inside the security office. “it is a… private matter,” odo would say.

bashir: depends if it reverts his genetic enhancements. if it does, he’ll have Feelings. if it doesn’t, he’ll probably just try and take advantage of his newfound flexibility to improve his tennis game.

o’brien: not thrilled, but this is just what happens to o’briens, isn’t it? keiko got turned into a child back on the enterprise, molly got turned into a feral adult by the time portal. it’s been years since he felt any regret about stealing that bread from the hag back in the old country. a bloodline curse is a bloodline curse. this will work itself out soon enough. at least it’s not another mind prison thingy

quark: nothing good