#i love you so much but PLEASE STOP

[knifegremliin]

my laptop is such a trooper btw (he has so many cracks on him)

[anthyies]

the thing about disco elysium is that it has women in it. what you see on the internet about it might lie to you about that but it has women, gay women even, very compelling women even, in it.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello Madam. Sorry Madam.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[jellydragons]

been watching a lot of hermitcraft recently and am happy to report that i am hopelessly endeared by these little goobers 💕 they’re like bugs to me

close ups under the cut!

gonna be real this was absolutely just me taking the opportunity to get my grubby lil mitts all up in their character designs lol i heart interpreting mc skins

[vaguely-concerned]

from what I infer from some of his dialogue, my guess is that while lucanis hasn't had a proper relationship before he has had one night stands and short term flings. and -- listen, I know he's a dick and a menace and probably a hopeless case but please do still spare illario dellamorte a moment of your thoughts and pity for the role of incredulous yet intrepid wing man that he's all but certainly had to play on several occasions for that to happen. there are 100% people out there who were trying SO fucking hard to get no strings attached laid by this stupidly hot emotionally unavailable mysterious stranger who won't be in town for long without lucanis ever realizing it. people who would have remained tragically unlaid if illario weren't there to clue him in.

I'm just imagining Illario staring in pure dismay and disbelief at his dumbass of a cousin failing to pick up what someone isn't just putting down but scattering all over the floor like glittery confetti burning with a magnesium flame brightness to spell out 'SIR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE RAIL ME THIS IS AN OFFICIAL ENTHUSIASTIC INVITATION TO MY BED' and having to push him out the door after them like 'maker's breath sometimes i don't understand how you have the wits to grip the right end of a knife, lucanis, they were throwing themselves at you and you just stared at them in mild puzzlement until they gave up and went away go fucking GET THEM for the sake of my sanity if nothing else!!!'

[egophiliac]

How do you imagine Levan/Revan/ Mallenoa's husband?

Appearance, personality etc.

Revaan/Laverne/whatever-his-name-is's title sort of implies that he might be from a fantasy-Eastern country (they've established that in Twstland, 竜 = Eastern-style dragons, andドラゴン = Western-style dragons). and that's about as much as we know right now about...anything in regards to what he might look like. so I've been trying very hard not to form too much of a mental picture of him, because I'm still hoping we'll get to see him (or at least a silhouette)! ergo, in my head, he kind of looks like this:

so handsome. surely Malenoa fell in love at first glance.

I do think the funniest thing about what we've learned so far is that Malleus being kind of quiet and reserved and dignified...absolutely did not come from the Draconias. and he sure as heck did not learn it from Lilia. so he probably got a lot of that from his dad! the vibe I get from how Lilia talks about him is that he could be a bit of a prim little fancyboy sometimes, but was (mostly) willing to go along with his wife's zany antics out of love. he sounds sweet, honestly! I'm sorry he (maybe) died. :(

my favorite thing about Mal's parents is that Malenoa and Lilia's dynamic was "long-suffering guard and princess who has long been the cause of said suffering":

but then they would happily join forces in order to gang up on Revaan:

tl;dr Revaan was the straightman in Malenoa and Lilia's comedy act until it all ended horribly whoops

[naamahdarling]

I didn't get pics I didn't get pics my phone was in the bedroom charging but FANCY IS PLAYING WITH THEM. Not next TO them but INITIATING PLAY WITH THEM.

Not bitchily, not reluctantly, not with a short temper, not tolerating THEIR advances, but making her OWN advances! Inviting them in!!!!!! Even the detested Junie!

CRYINGGGGGG.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico and Percy's dynamic through the series is eternally funny to me, because it's just. like.

Percy's having a constant mental struggle between his fatal flaw of loyalty with a promise he made to Bianca to protect Nico, versus his Big 3 kid desire to maim other Big 3 kids / Poseidon descendant urge to totally maim Nico specifically. He hates Nico so so much. He thinks Nico's annoying and weird at best, and creepy/sketchy when he's older. The only positive thoughts Percy has towards Nico are "He's Bianca's brother and Bianca was my friend and I owe her/He's Hazel's brother and Hazel is my friend and would kill me if I was mean to him," "He's a powerful asset and useful ally (if questionable)," and "He's kinda pathetic and I feel maybe a little bad about it." Percy has multiple occasions throughout the series where he strongly considers - and on one occasionally actually goes through with - throttling Nico.

Meanwhile, Nico is following around Percy like a lost puppy. He explicitly can never bring himself to even dislike anything about Percy no matter how hard he tries. He has a whole bit in BoO where he's mentally going "UGH he's so stupid BUT IT'S ENDEARING HOW DARE HE." He's totally smitten. He's making deals with his dad for Percy. He's making convoluted plans to help Percy stand a chance against Kronos. During the entirety of BoTL it's like he's playing tsundere - "I'm helping NOT PERCY SPECIFICALLY with this quest! Me helping Percy would be SILLY because I DEFINITELY HATE HIM." Then he proceeds to show up to Percy's birthday party to basically ask him on a weird date and spend the entire next book scrambling around trying to help him or protect him or impress him. And Percy could not give less of a shit.

Just. That dynamic is so funny to me. Percy is the founder of the Nico Protection Club in that he's the one they're all protecting Nico from and meanwhile Nico is throwing himself at Percy to the point where the literal god of gay love calls him out on it.

[hippolotamus]

Eddie Diaz + text posts

[simplepotatofarmer]

on technoblade & grief

death, virtual grief, and your digital footprint // sherri turner - twitter // karis upton - grief painting 1 // shannon barry - tumblr tag // petfurniture - twitter // ursula k. le guin // dream - until i end up dead // youtube search function // van gogh - a field of yellow flowers // tristam & braken - frame of mind // the killers - enterlude exitlude // the haunting of hill house // @vpofcookies - techno art

"Grief that flows, that is felt in its fullness, is grief that will serve its purpose, and depart in its own time, helping us to know what we love, helping us to know we are human." - mr. technodad

[royalarchivist]

Pac: I saw that there will be a QSMP event on the 24th, right? Some people messaged me asking if… if I would participate, and what I have to say is: we will see on the 24th. I'm not going to say anything else. Because you know how I am, if I start to talk here, no matter how much I try not to talk, in 10 seconds I'm going to say more than I should, you know?

[Reading a Chat message] “Since when can the dead participate in an event?” WHAT?! WHAT?! [Reading chat] "Ghost Pac." [He makes a doubtful expression] What are you trying to say here? What are you trying to say here???

It’s ok, ok, alright, alright, alright, it’s ok! I'll talk since you won't drop it, ok, fine, here's the thing: Felps– Felps appeared and... resurrected me. I'm kidding, I'm kidding, it has nothing to do with that, it has nothing to do with that, I'm… [Laughs]

(BIG thank you to sebbs12 for the translation help!)

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: I saw that there will be a QSMP event on the 24th, right? Some people messaged me asking if… if I would participate, and what I have to say is: we will see on the 24th. That's all I'm going to say, that's what I'll say. We'll see on the 24th, we'll see on the 24th.

And that's it, that's all I'm going to say, that's all I'm going to say, that's it! What I'm going to say– I'm not going to say anything else. Because you know how I am, if I start to talk here, no matter how much I try not to talk, in 10 seconds I'm going to say more than I should, you know? We'll have to see on the 24th. That's what I'm going to say, that's all I'm going to say, I can't say more than that. I'll leave it at that, yeah… We'll see, we'll see, on the 24th, on the 24th, on the 24th. You will have to wait.

[Reading a Chat message] “Since when can the dead participate in an event?” WHAT?! WHAT?! [Reading chat] "Ghost Pac." [He makes a doubtful expression] What are you trying to say here? What are you trying to say here?

Anyways, write it down on your calendar, mark your calendars guys, the 24th is the QSMP event. It’s ok, ok, alright, alright, alright, it’s ok! I'll talk since you won't drop it, ok, fine, here's the thing: Felps– Felps appeared and... resurrected me.

I'm kidding, I'm kidding, it has nothing to do with that, it has nothing to do with that, I'm… [Laughs] Oh, don't watch, because later you're going to clip this and put it on Twitter, it will be taken out of context, the whole world will think it's true– I'm kidding! I’m joking about the Felps business.

On the 24th, the QSMP event, we'll see how it goes, we’ll see what happen, ok?

[He reads chat and laughs] "You're crazy, bro" you guys are crazy too. Ay, ay...

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[dabisbratz]

𝐼𝒩 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸 (𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝐹𝐿𝒪𝒲𝐸𝑅𝒮 𝐹𝒜𝒞𝐸 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒮𝒰𝒩)— leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.2k

warning: pwp ( porn with plot ), jealousy, exes-to-lovers, oral, phone sex ( ? ), softdomtop!leon, subbottom!reader, re2r leon, dirtytalk, praise/degradation, spanking, fingering, amab reader, light feminization, riding, blowjobs, creampie, leon’s big but doesn’t know it, finger-sucking, finger-hooking, set after re2r n before re4r, krauser mentions, mentions of alcohol, throatpie, d/s dynamic, unprotected sex ( wear condoms! ), aftercare ! ♡

sonny says..: the urge to add a daddy kink to this was so. so very!! strong . had to stay focused.. this is already.. sovery.. self indulgent..

Confronting him was the hard part. It’d been a while since you’d seen Leon, your ex-boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. It was him, you know now— you’ve always known — but you weren’t sure you had the heart to face him. It was you who ended it after all, you who’d sent him down a heartbreak and alcohol induced rabbit hole that could only be documented briefly through a few voicemails and delivered texts. Even after traveling all this way, burning your cash like it grew on trees, trudging through the rainy streets of this random city, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right decision.

You couldn’t take it. The voicemails, the messages, the audio messages full of incoherent sobs and pleads. Being away from him, the same man who’d left you jumping for joy. The same man who’d lit sparks in your chest and released butterflies in your stomach. The same man who’d smile at you in the dead of night, genuine and bright, as he told you he’d loved you a million times over. Leon, whose hands were soft and warm on your skin, so gentle and patient. Like no one you’ve ever met, your heart squeezes in your chest. Leon, Leon, Leon.

Was this out of line?

But it’s too late to turn back now, because your hand is curling into a tight fist as you knock on the fourth motel door all night. Once, twice, three times. You’re ready to back out, to run before whoever’s residing here can open the door and, most likely, slam the door in your face with a distasteful choice of words.

But the door opens.

“There’s an extra. . . Uh, umbrella by the mailbox. Looks like you could use it!” He starts, eyes sparkling despite the dim lighting and narrowed space they’re peeking from. It sounds almost rehearsed, like you’re not the first person to knock on his door tonight. And, for a reason you know all too well, the thought stings.

His eyelashes are just as long as you remember them, curled upward and batting against the thin layer of baby-fat adorning his cheeks in a way that looks dreamy and slow. Like he’s relaxed, or perhaps tired. Nonetheless, his pretty, round eyes are undeniably his and hard to miss, you find yourself at a loss for words. You’re lost in the deep pools of blue, bleeding indigo and inky black of his irises matching the recently done-over roadways in a way that feels just as fresh.

Leon looks reminiscent of a puppy, though he always has, with his thick brown eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic confusion. Or concentration, even. Almost as if it’s detrimental to him that you know there’s an umbrella there for you, for anyone, who needs it. That it’s important you know— with him around— you’ll be safe. He’s barely changed since you’d last seen him in person, the moles on his cheeks and throat unmoved, soft tufts of brown hair swept to the side as normal, and pink, plump lips that curl upward in a way that’s so comforting you could cry. Leon, your Leon, who smiles warmly, lips pulled into a sweet and inviting grin as the apples of his cheeks round out. Your eyes travel to the dimple dead center of his chin, prominent and defining. The perfect place to slot your thumb, really, to hold his chin and lose yourself in his azure eyes.

Even with the pitter patter of rain soaking into your already soaked clothes, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt in the last few months. His presence keeps you warm. Kept you warm.

“Leon.” It’s all you can say, breathless as the air is snatched from your lungs and excuses die on your tongue. What could you even say? Sure, you’d practiced it all in your head before arriving— I’m sorry, I miss you, what happened to us? It’s all easier to piece together in your head in contrast to actually saying it.

There’s a routinely lean against the doorframe as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and he’s truly looking at you now, opposed to the clear umbrella sat taut beneath his motel’s mailbox. With a flash of lightning he blinks, freckle and mole dusted cheeks set alight for just a mere second as his breath is caught in his closing throat.

“Oh. . . It’s you,” His sharp adam’s apple bobs with an even sharper swallow, and his pinched eyebrows go lax for a brief moment before tightening back up. “. . .Okay. Hi.”

“Hi, Lee.” You mimic, awkwardly shifting to the side. Still in his casual clothes, you presume, Leon looks comfortable as he sports baggy, blue jeans and a white tank top. Almost too comfortable, the fabric straining against his chest and only ever relaxing the closer it delves by his armpits, flowing despite being trapped beneath his wide ribcage and thick biceps. There’s a heavy vein cascading around it, disappearing under his skin only to reappear by his forearms and soft hands. With pink dusted fingertips, one hand is closed around the gold doorknob of his motel room.

You expect him to close it in your face. To slam the door after telling you to leave, with anger painting his soft, pretty features until they’ve hardened into cold stone. But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s opening it a bit wider, no longer leaning on the doorframe as he extends an arm to fully open the door. To fully see you, and you swear his posture is much more relaxed after his gaze has focused on your face.

“You look,” His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, and suddenly you’re failing to form vowels on your tongue. Either way you continue, “You look good,” stiffening as you gesture toward his general direction. “You always do. Anyway. . .”

“Thanks,” He’s much too sweet for your liking, smiling at you like you hadn’t broken his heart just a few months prior. His voice is breathy with upcoming laughter as he steps to the side and invites you in. “You too. Y’know, without the rain.”

You’re in over your head, shuffling inside the dimly lit room with heavy steps. The front door opens directly to the small living-room, a small carton of Chinese takeout resting beside a hearty sized weight on the coffee table. What now? You came into this hoping he’d yell at you— maybe give you a reason to turn around and never look back. But he’s not, he’s inviting you in like. . . Like an old friend. The door is shut and locked with a small click, Leon’s form moving from behind you with his large hand ghosting over your lower back.

A shockwave travels up your spine when his palm makes contact with your waist, only for a brief moment. You can’t think straight, watching the muscles in his back ripple and writhe through his shirt. Chocolate tufts of hair rest at the nape of his neck, short and soft. It’s like you were running your fingers through them just a week ago, blades of freshly trimmed hair tickling your fingertips. Right there, he’s so right there, but almost completely out of reach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say, over and over, until your nose begins to sting and your eyes grow glassy. Then it’s Leon’s turn to look apologetic, hair swaying as he fully turns to face you. Really, he has nothing to be sorry for. You’re so incredibly selfish.

“I can’t,” He pauses to take a breath, and you feel your heart splitting in two. But his tone is soft and warm, tilting with breathy and almost bitter laughter. “I can’t stay mad at you. And believe me, I tried.”

So he’s willing to talk about it. Your face visibly lights up before you can do anything to mask it, every word you’ve been trying to conjure up suddenly speeding past your tongue, “I want us to talk ab—”

“So,” Leon’s face contorts into something forlorn, like he’s weaving unsavory words together in his head. Words he’s never imagined himself saying. “Does he. . . Does he, uh, fuck you good?”

Huh.

“What?” The question falls flat and sour on your tongue, much more like a blank statement than a question. You’re not sure who ‘he’ is, let alone what led to the question in general, but you’re not exactly given much time to think about it either. The brunette steps forward, wide shoulders shifting with a heavy, clothed stride. His freshly bitten lips are released from his pearly teeth, plump and glossy. Closer now, Leon still smells reminiscent of woodsy lavender and minty mouthwash. Despite how faint it lingers in the air, it somehow manages to overwhelm your senses. He smells like home.

He doesn’t miss a beat this time, long eyelashes splayed out on his cheek as he stares down at your lips, eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he?” His head tilts to the side, questioning. You’d take it as an innocent question had it not been for his lips, pulled into a tight line that reeks of jealousy. His eyes have hardened, baby blue to gunmetal gray. His shoulders relax when you shake your head, hands suddenly restless by your side. “Use your words.”

It’s usually accompanied by a ‘please?’ or ‘for me?’

A whimper leaves your lips, soft and sweet and completely unwarranted. He softens.

“I know you can do it for me,” His eye contact is dangerous, relentless as he watches you stumble over your own whimpers and words. “Can’t you?”

“No,” You swallow hard, letting the brunette trap you in his heat. There is no ‘ he ’, no one taking Leon’s rightfully earned place by your side— whether it be in bed or not. That’s why you’ve come all this way, after all. But you play along anyway, desperate to be good. For Leon. “Not like you do, Lee.”

You’re whining now, tears bubbling in your eyes for so many reasons you can’t put together. Ultimately because you need him, because you feel bad for needing him— because maybe you don’t deserve the luxury of needing him. Apologies tumble into a tight ball of hiccups and sobs, and it’s only the thumbs rubbing away your tears that bring you back. Maybe you’re apologizing for fucking someone you haven’t, lost in the role he’s given you.

“I’m just glad to see you. Glad you’re here.” There’s so much he means to tell you, so much you haven’t heard. Raccoon city, the training program he’s been recruited into, why he’s even here in the first place. Sure, maybe he’s much too forgiving. But it’s you. And he’s not letting go again. But there’s more to it, there’s more you need. Venturing out here on your own, probably without letting anyone know, you’re reckless. Acting without thinking, and he can’t have that. He can’t turn you down, not when you’re so clearly in need of a gentle, guiding hand. Not when he misses you. Leon cuts off your apologies with a small kiss, gentle and sweet enough to have you chasing after his lips when he pulls away.

Your voice sounds needy and saccharine sweet as you lean forward, breathing in his airy scent with a wispy, “Leon. . .”

“What do you want, baby?” The nickname slips before he can catch it, but you don’t seem to mind. “What is it?”

“Want. . I want you.”

“But I’m right here? His laugh is genuine this time, lips splitting into a smile as his thumb rubs smooth circles across your cheekbone. “You have me.”

His hands are on you now, giving your body small squeezes of affirmation. Leon’s much bigger than he carries himself— big hands, wide shoulders, thick thighs, sturdy chest, heavy cock. Big all over, really, despite the way he’s able to run around and disappear like it’s nothing— despite how quickly he carries himself.

The thought as you reeling, choking on a sob that earns an immediate coo in response. There’s just so much, and it’s all piling up. But Leon’s here, he’s here like he always has been, he’s here to make it better. He’s always been so good at that. He takes you out of your head, turns it into mush while you float on a cloud and beg for more of. . . Well, you’re not too sure. But you know he can feel you throbbing against his thigh, hard and needy as he shakes his head with faux disapproval.

“That your phone in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” It’s a stupid joke you both know the answer to, so he doesn’t waste any time laughing over it. You’re nodding anyway, bobbing your head up and down with wet eyelashes— you already look so ruined.

You’re wearing too much clothes, soaked and dripping onto his floor in a way that has the man grimacing as he peels it from your body. You’re much colder than you thought, too, goosebumps trailing down your skin as his big hands rub warm, soothing shapes into your forearm. Lee’s always been like that, the type to offer up his jacket on a rainy day, the type to give you his coat on a snowy one. And you know, undoubtedly, you’d do the very same for him.

“He couldn’t reach those spots, could he?” The question is emphasized by a hearty squeeze to your behind, Leon’s hands dipping beneath your wet pants slipping under the band of your briefs to knead the plump mound of your ass. He’s grabbing handfuls, squishing the skin between fingers and spreading you apart. “Not like I can, huh? Not deep enough?”

With a soft moan you’re discarded of your pants, fists curled into the crisp white of Leon’s wifebeater. You’ll take anything he gives you and love it, but it’s you who should be apologizing. You who should feel the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. You want the head slipping and sliding down your throat, you want your face streaked in tears and snot by the time he’s done it’s you.

Oh, how you’ve missed this. Leon’s cock is thick and sticky, pre beading at the pretty, pink tip and dripping down it’s fat head. You watch it drip, slow and shiny as it trails down his pulsing shaft. Weeping, his cock twitches with each open breath you blow against it, jumping as his balls tighten. They’re pretty and round, symmetrical on both sides, but not nearly as pretty as his shaft. Thick and curving upwards past his belly button, Leon’s cock has a sensitive vein you want to run your tongue over, trailing up from his balls to the tip, collecting the sticky precum as it falls down into your mouth.

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You trail off, eyes focused solely on the pretty, shiny head of his dick.

“Don’t need to beg, I’ll give it to you. All you want,” You stick out your tongue, cute and pink as you’re ready to suckle along the head of his cock, but instead you’re met with the warmth of his big hand gripping your jaw. His thumb latches onto your bottom lip, rubbing the soft skin as he blinks down at you, his voice smooth and buttery as he commands, “Slow and steady.”

The tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail between them, as you finally take his cock into your mouth. He’s salty and somewhat bitter, spreading heavy along your tongue, and you can’t help but swallow around the head. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head.

“So. . . so wet,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way they’re clenched tight and his hand is morphing into a fist full of your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum. “Those. . noises. And you’re so.. cute.”

He offers a sharp thrust that has him disappearing down your tight throat, squeezing just right along his twitching shaft. Your jaw aches the further he’s pushed inside, until your nose is buried in his trimmed, gingerbread pubes. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, with the way he lets out a hushed apology for fucking your throat so deep, with the way he’s whining out a constant stream of “You’re such a good boy.”

Praise. He’s so good at it, it’s got you absentmindedly drooling and gagging on his dick. You’re eager to drag out more, running your tongue along his big, veiny cock until Leon’s throwing his head back— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock is filling your empty mouth, using you like some sort of pre-lubed fleshlight with his balls slapping against your chin in wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until it’s being rubbed along your cheeks.

“That’s it, good boy, just a little more. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Leon’s hand keeps you buried against his pubes until your throat is squeezing and contracting, milking his cock and wrapped plush around the thick head. You can feel it, each twitch and throb of his heavy cock, even when he’s cumming down your throat, sticky and thick ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You want to show him. You’re marked for good, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before pulling off.

“Oh, baby,” Leon’s voice is just as hoarse as your own, eyes following the display of cum resting hot and sticky on your tongue. “Think you can do something for me?”

He leads you up with a gentle hand, wrapped around your throat until you’re sat taut in his lap, thighs on each side of his waist. Leon’s hands are impeccably soft, even as he’s pushing them past your lips and spreading the saltiness of them along your tongue with a gentle, “suck.” You’re eager to please, taking the warm digits in your mouth and separating them with your tongue. The squelches in return are loud and wet, a mixture of cum and drool leaving between the gaps of his fingers and your lips. Your eyelids feel heavy, brain foggy as he pushes them deeper into your mouth, just enough to have you gagging softly.

Then they’re gone.

In his own mouth now, he’s tasting remnants of his cum and pulling off his fingertips with a wet ‘pop!’while his free hand digs for the vanilla lube hidden somewhere in the couch.

“You’re gonna bounce on my fingers like a good boy,” both hands are at your briefs, tugging them down until there’s a loud ripping sound. Your eyes jet between Leon’s wide eyes and your tattered underwear, surprised. You’re not sure if he meant to do that, but it doesn’t matter, because your cock springs to life and jumps against your tummy. “Then my good boy’s gonna take it in his pussy. Okay?”

The question is barely registered but you’re nodding anyway, melting in the brunette’s strong embrace. His hands spread you open, one playing with the squishy flesh of your bum while the other’s slick fingers circle around your puckered entrance. With a wet ‘squilck’ the first finger is in, impossibly deep and hot as your gooey hole sucks it in further. You just can’t get enough, rocking your hips down to the last knuckle and grinding your cock against his own. There’s a sharp smack to your ass, the skin rippling under Leon’s quick palm as he groans, “Hnnh, so noisy n’ I barely started.”

His fingers have always been able to reach deeper than your own, sweet and tantalizing along your prostate as he finds it like he knows it, pressing and pressing and pressing until you’re seeing stars. He adds another, two in total, that slip past your velvety opening with almost no resistance. Usually you’d have to take a third, maybe, but he wants you to really feel it.

“Shh, sh. You hear it?” There’s another swat, stinging and loud as it hits the same exact spot. Your back arches beautifully, his fingers jolting deeper. You're quick to shake your head. “The dirty noises your hole’s makin’ while it takes my fingers?”

You’ll never get used to Leon’s cute face sputtering out such filthy words, it’s like whiplash. And you’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, it’s hard to hear over the fog and sounds of your own babbling, but you can hear yourself answering anyway, “S’cause you fuck me so good.”

“Think it’ll be just as loud on my cock?”

“Even louder.” You whine, head falling forward into his thick shoulder as the head of his cock traces your slick, soft rim. There’s a cold trickle behind you, loud and squeaky— it’s more lube, enough to coat his cock, your ass, and then some. Enough to have the head of his cock catching on your entrance every time he slides it along your crack. There’s a soft kiss to your cheek, and a free hand creeps up your back to hold you there by the back of your head. You’re turning into a puddle, whining into the shell of Leon’s ear as his dick slides its first inch inside.

Your hole is so tiny. Even after being stretched full of his fingers, you’re gripping his cock like a vice. There’s a tiny, thin band where his head disappears into your warm hole, stretching and shining and sucking his dick further inside. You’re just so tight, sticky and inviting insides that feel like velvet around his thick, throbbing cock. Even as he tries to go slow, sucking in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, Leon can’t get enough. His cheeks are flushed, deepening and blooming down his neck as he grips the globes of your ass and spreads them apart wide. Cold air runs along your hole, chilly enough to have you whining.

“F-hu-uuck, so tight,” He gasps, blinking rapidly as he watches your face fall into something floaty and, if he’s honest, cockdrunk. Twitching around him so much, you’re milking his cock for all it's got despite him barely being buried completely inside. Part of him wants to keep you on his tip, slipping it in and out your cute entrance until he’s shooting between the spheres of your ass, getting you sticky and hot with his cum. Marking you. “God, hhm, your pussy’s quivering around me so good…”

“Lee. . Leon, I can’t, want it so bad but I can’t. . .” You definitely can— in fact, you have. But he’s just so big, splitting you in two and whiting your brain out.

“Too much? Oh—haah— poor baby. Want me to stop?” He stills his hips, a breathless smile forming on his face when you try to take the reins. You lace your fingers with his own, squeezing hard as you rock your hips back and forth. “No? Then take it for me.”

Take it you do. Your body jerks as he fucks up into you, balls slapping against your ass and cock sliding against your prostate as sloppy, shallow sounds of your poor, drenched hole fill the room. Leon’s hair sticks to his forehead, stringy and disheveled as he whispers into your skin, grabbing handful after handful of your backside.

Beside you, his phone rings.

Leon nearly jumps out of his own skin, patting around the sofa to find his cell— trapped beneath a cushion. You don’t have time to read the Caller ID, something that begins with a ‘K’, but it’s clear he’s going to decline it. With the way he doesn’t spare a glance at you until after he’s got it in hand, and—

“Leon Kennedy.” His grip on your hips is enough to bruise, rocking your body down against his own. You can’t help but gasp, your thoughts spinning like clockwork in your head until your brain has gone light and airy like sugary, sweet cotton candy. All you can do is tighten around his dick, show Leon how much better you are than whoever’s on the phone. You can be good, you’re a good boy.

And you must’ve said it out loud, because he’s decided to busy your mouth with thick, sticky fingers. Even then, your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelching and slapping of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, and if he looks close enough he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. You really are a good boy.

His fingers are hooked in your mouth, drawing pathetic sounds out of you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you can’t stop bouncing. Your thighs ache and burn but you want it so bad, your neglected cock stuttering along with your hips as he’s pushed deeper and deeper with every small ‘uh-huh!’ that leaves your lips.

“Yeah, that’s right,” He says into the phone, but it sounds more reserved for you. “Ah, yes sir. This job was. . . Christ, it was made for me!” He pulls the phone away for a brief moment. “This ass was made for me.”

His eyes are trained on you as he shoves his phone between his shoulder and ear, both hands on your hips to raise you on and off his cock. Your lip is bitten raw between your teeth, and you don’t realize he’s coaxing it free until he’s speaking, “Let ‘em hear who you belong to. Who’s that?”

“You! You, Leon. Leon.” Like a prayer, his name comes out slurred and crackly. An uninterrupted stream of titles and nicknames reserved just for him, your nails claw at his muscled back.

“That’s right, you’re mine,” There’s a hard, choppy thrust forward as he releases a hand to wrap it around your sensitive, weeping cock, “And this cock? This hole? Mine too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” Clamping down on his shaft, your hand finds the small gap where his cock reappears. Your fingertips trace it, completely soaked but enough to have his balls tightening. “And you’re mine.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” His phone falls to his side, hushed whines leaving the brunette’s strawberry lips. “All yours, whenever you want. Got that? My good boy gets to have his cock whenever he wants.”

His hand is fast and slick, his thumb running over your slit every so often just to watch the way your body convulses in response. But Leon’s sweet, he’s always been sweet to you, sweet enough to twist his fist the closer it gets to the tip. Sweet enough to tighten the grip he has around you when he gets to the base— when he can feel you’re about to cum.

“Oh, please!” With a dry sob you’re tugging at his wrist, wriggling your hips and falling back into his thick cock. “Wanna cum, Lee. Please let me cum, please.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t tap out now. You can cum for me when I say so, okay?” Your begging goes straight to his dick, pulsating and bullying the small bundle of nerves nestled in the heart shape of your ass. You can’t stop crying, handsome face covered in tears as you ride out the everlasting stretch of his cock forcing you open, just to leave you empty. Again, again, again.

You feel like molten lava, silky and warm as wet spurts of lube catch between the skin of your ass and his pelvis. He can’t take it, just as wrecked as you are when he feels his balls go rigid and impossibly full— he needs to claim you. Now.

His cum is warm— so thick and filling when he shoots right against your prostate. You’ve never felt more full in your life, your thighs lightly squeezing together in his lap as he releases your cock with one, two, three strokes. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, loud squeals and cries of ‘Leon!’ as your cock twitches and pulses— cum leaking down his fingers as it catches along his fist. And he could be cruel, continuing to pump your cock past its limits. But instead he gauges your reaction with a few slow, experimental tugs— pulling away when your thighs start to shake a little too much.

“One more request for you, sweetheart.” He raises his hand, a slow drip of your own cum landing on his tummy. His hand is brought to your mouth, and Leon watches with an adoring coo as you lick it clean. It’s obvious you’re trying to stay present, trying not to sink too far deep into that sweet, mellow headspace he’s put you in.

“Thank you.” He says, though you’re much too tired to figure out just what he’s thanking you for. Leon pulls you off his cock despite your absentminded protests, blowing air through protruding cheeks when your rim is reluctant to let go.

“Mhm.” Your tongue is thick like molasses, eyes slowly blinking as you’re moved to sit beside him.

“Can I see, please?” He’s already maneuvering you onto your back and spreading your legs wide by your thighs and ankles, yet his pretty eyes flicker up to meet your face, almost as if he’s actually asking. They drastically brighten when you offer a tiny, well-fucked nod. His hands spread you open, watching his cum dribble from your used hole in collective globs. Makes you feel small and properly kept, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your pretty hole clenches around air.

Leon closes his eyes like he’s trying not to cream his (metaphorical) pants all over again, his thumb rubbing a sizable glob into your skin. Your legs close around his hand, holding him still as you whine.

“I know, I know. I’ll be gentle.” There’s a sweet, simple kiss placed to the back of your thigh before Leon stands, disappearing into what your lidded eyes can’t quite make out. But you know you’re whining, something about a ‘sorry’ or an ‘I made a mistake’ before his big, warm hands are back to hold onto your own.

Something wet and dripping— a cloth, is rubbed into your skin, slow and tender and later replaced by sprinkled kisses.

“Can I. . . stay, Lee?” You want to wince at the sound of your own voice, but you don’t think you have the energy to do so yet. You’re being pulled into his arms, sturdy and comforting— even with the faint smell of sex and musk damp on his skin.

“You’d be crazy to think I’m letting you go again.”

[thehalfbloodfreak]

Cal will be like: “We both know what happens when I stay in one place too long” Gotta keep that low profile so the Empire doesn’t find us—

Also Cal to every stranger he sees: Hi I’m Cal Kestis. Oh and this is BD-1

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

you think kankri and cronus

like all the dancestors, kankri and cronus mirror their counterparts (and as we all know, karkat and eridan are soul mates), but the brief interaction we do see of them makes them seem pretty toxic for each other. i think it's funny for that reason though!

Karkat and Kankri both love going on long, endless rants and walls of text, but where Karkat fills his spiels with self-loathing, Kankri fills his with incredible smugness and self-satisfaction (often calling his spiels "sermons" or "lectures" before catching himself and correcting them to "discussions" or "conversations," which have a less one-sided "i'm right and you're wrong" connotation). Moreover, where Karkat loves all his friends, and masks that under disdainful insults and screaming obscenities, Kankri tends to hold his friends in contempt, masking that under kind language and politeness.

KANKRI: And really, it's every9ne's 6usiness t9 examine their privilege, even 6urgundies, wh9 may 6e su6ject t9 the pitfall 9f 6elieving inc9rrectly there are n9ne 9n the scale 6eneath them wh9m they enj9y certain privileges 9ver, which 9ff-spectrum tr9lls will never kn9w, such as th9se identifying as 9ther6l99ds 9r caste-multiples, "p9ly6l99ded", any wh9 hem9gl96ically ID as having a caste which manifests n9where (as yet kn9wn) in any9ne physically, 9r f9r that matter 9ffspecs wh9 physically d9 p9ssess such a 6l99d type, 9r "mutants" (VERY pr96lematic term, highly triggering t9 s9me, 6e warned), such as y9u and I, Karkat.

Translation: lowbloods think they have it SO HARD, try being a mutant 🙄

KANKRI: I just think there is inherent danger in muddying the waters 9f disc9urse 6y intr9ducing s9cial issues which are suspect at 6est, thus c9nsuming crucial res9urces fr9m the limited cache 9f rhet9ric which pr9pels these narratives. And furtherm9re, 9ne c9uld argue it's m9re than a little pr96lematic, 9ffensive even, f9r y9u t9 6e appr9priating the lexic9n 9f sensitivity used t9 advance awareness 9f maj9r issues, thus reducing it t9 the level 6uzzspeak and pseud9science. It makes it m9re difficult f9r th9se 9f us wh9 are genuinely f9cused 9n p9sitive change t9 6e taken seri9usly, that's all. PORRIM: Appro+priating?? #That's no+t #what that even #means? PORRIM: PSEUDOSCIENCE??? #Yo+u did no+t just… KANKRI: I'm s9rry, I just d9n't think there's much there. We aren't like humans, wh9se species 6izarrely en9ugh includes highly specialized r9les f9r 69th sexes in the pr9cess 9f repr9ducti9n, and s9 this naturally had s9cial ramificati9ns f9r the way their civilizati9n ev9lved. 6ut that's n9t h9w it w9rks f9r us, s9 I fail t9 see h9w gender fact9rs int9 the discussi9n in a way that can 6e effectively and rati9nally pr96lematized. Where is the r99m f9r unexamined privilege in the dich9t9my? I d9n't see it. And appr9priating the talking p9ints and awareness-raising tactics f9r du6i9us issues like this is, frankly, fr9wned up9n, t9 put it p9litely. Such appr9priative gestures 9nly serve t9 marginalize and invalidate th9se su6ject t9 seri9us, real life struggles and 9ppressi9n, and I guess I'm a little disapp9inted t9 see y9u 6eing s9 6lithely and inappr9priately appr9priat9ry. #Fr9wned up9n #Fr9wns all ar9und #Welc9me t9 fr9wn t9wn PORRIM: Kanny, I'm starting to+ feel just a little bit triggered by all this "appro+priatio+n" bullshit. #Trigger warning: #Abo+ut to+ kick yo+ur tall pantsed ass KANKRI: 9h! My sincere ap9l9gies. I sh9uld have d9ne a 6etter j96 tagging my statements, 6ut f9r future reference, it's helpful t9 alert y9ur c9nversati9nal partners t9 y9ur triggers well in advance. Sh9uld I g9 fetch y9ur m9irail t9 help settle y9u d9wn? And if s9, wh9 exactly w9uld 6e filling that quadrant t9day? #It's the may9r, right? #G9tta 6e the may9r

Translation: Stop trying to steal my spotlight by bringing up your own social justice pursuits. Shut the fuck up. Oh, are you offended? Maybe you should go cry to your moirail. Slut. God I hate women.

KANKRI: 9n the 9ther hand, if I'm 6eing h9nest, I've f9und Mituna's entire existence t9 6e a pretty pr96lematic impediment t9 the advancement and 9verall awareness 9f a6leism and its painful manif9ld c9nsequences f9r una6ilitied pers9ns. The speech impediment, frankly, I c9uld d9 with9ut, and I'm 6y n9 means ecstatic 9ver his t9rrential 6ig9try and h9stility. 9n the 9ne hand, I want t9 6e sensitive t9 him as a pers9n and as a friend, 6ut 9n the 9ther, what kind 9f message d9es his 6ehavi9r send? And frankly, I'm n9t crazy a69ut the helmet, either. MITUNA: W4LT5 WR00NG W17H MY H4ML37 8( KANKRI: N9thing, friend, it's a really c99l helmet and it's a g99d l99k f9r y9u. 6ut are we n9w t9 assume that all th9se wh9 are stricken with y9ur particular disadvantage9n will 6e similarly pr9ne t9 require such headgear, due t9 falling d9wn and hitting their heads frequently? MITUNA: 8U7H 1 D0 F4LL D0WN 4ND H157 MY H34D FR3QUN3UN74NY KANKRI: 9h, I kn9w y9u d9, and I think y9u sh9uld c9ntinue wearing it f9r y9ur safety, particularly if y9u c9ntinue t9 insist 9n fl9undering a69ut 9n y9ur danger9us t9y. It's m9re a69ut the unf9rtunate message y9u are sending 9verall, with certain aspects 9f y9ur pers9nality and existence, that's all. MITUNA: 1M 50RRY KANKRI: As a friend, I w9uldn't want t9 change anything a69ut y9u, well, n9t m9st things. I just think y9u may n9t 6e d9ing y9urself 9r th9se wh9 are similarly disadvantaged any fav9rs with, what I'm h9ping, is a perfectly inn9cent array 9f traits and mannerisms. 8ut again, I say this with all due sensitivity. MEENAH: vantas youre being a shit dont talk about him like that

Translation: Mituna, you're such a goddamn embarrassment, I wish everything about you was completely different.

The big difference between Beforus and Alternia is also the definition of "culling," which on one meant killing and the other meant coddling. Naturally, this is its own form of oppression, as the longer-lived highbloods still hold great power over the lives and fates of those deemed cull-worthy, which includes a lot of lowbloods, and definitely mutants like Kankri who didn't have a lusus. However, it creates a different kind of mindset from that of more standard abuse, like what Karkat suffered for his off-spectrum nature - where Karkat spent every day fearing for his life and cursing himself:

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. As was previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY, which is barely even worth mentioning. It is an anniversary, if anything, to lament the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly plenty.

Kankri was experiencing the opposite: being told that his mutation made him exceptional, made him special, made him MORE worthy of attention and praise than other people. At the same time, his agency was taken away from him, but the thing is, being 13 when he started the game, I don't necessarily think he'd have missed that - around the age of 13 is when kids START to crave agency, and he got it by playing the game. Kankri's dialogue suggests to me that he genuinely believes in his superiority to the people around him, more in line with being spoilt.

This is why, although he talks a big game about how bad casteism is, and how you shouldn't say slurs because they're offensive, he still unironically uses the term "Royal-V" to refer to violet bloods and chastises Mituna for calling Meenah a wader, which is an anti-seadweller (and anti-seadweller apologist) insult. Sure, he acknowledges within that chastisement that because Meenah and Royal-V's DO have privilege, the weight of the insult is not exactly the same, but then he follows up by saying that he wishes everything about Mituna was different, to the point MEENAH feels the need to defend him.

This is because Kankri is a fucking wader.

If you'll notice, he's actually quite agreeable and sympathetic to Meenah (despite Meenah being a confirmed bully, especially to the team rustblood):

KANKRI: Wh9a, Meenah. I didn't see y9u c9me in. Y9u sh9uld have c9me say hell9. ... KANKRI: I've als9 heard y9u're recruiting mem6ers f9r a militia? An9ther 69ld endeav9r. N9t surprising, th9ugh. 6ef9re y9u em6ark, I d9 h9pe y9u'll set aside at least several sweeps t9 listen t9 s9me 9f my…

KANKRI: And Meenah, while I can understand y9ur frustrati9n 9ver 6eing ver6ally assaulted under any circumstance, it is incum6ent 9n me t9 remind y9u that Mituna requires a certain am9unt 9f special c9nsiderati9n and m9re than a little patience. Please try t9 resist taking his 6ait, which I'm guessing is m9stly well intended(?), 6ef9re its c9ntenti9us undert9w pulls y9u further int9 an exchange laden with deeply pr96lematic expressi9ns 9f a6leism, a6leist slurs, and 9ther such manifestati9ns 9f unc9nsci9na6ly unchecked a6ility privilege.  #a6leism #a6ility privilege #6ait #undert9w #are the aquatic terms helping?

... And he's nice to Cronus. I just don't think it's a coincidence that Kankri is super mean and shitty to land dwellers, while being super kind to the two sea dwellers on the team, the caste he was presumably culled (raised) by - to the point of emulating their aquatic terms to try and ingratiate himself to them (something Karkat thinks is stupid and cringe.).

KARKAT: (not really.) #SHELLF IMPORTANT ABALONEY? #GODDAMN SEADWELLERS

And that brings us to Cronus. Now, I've written extensively about how Eridan is not actually casteist, but the TL;DR is that Eridan genuinely doesn't treat people differently based on their caste, but it's societally expected of him and he has an overwhelming amount of anxiety about living up to those expectations, so he will say a lot of slurs. He and Feferi are actually the only two highbloods that never say anything disparaging about Karkat's blood color.

In contrast, Cronus is a casteist; where Eridan tries to play up how casteist he is while secretly not being so, Cronus does the opposite and tries to play down how casteist he is while secretly being so.

CRONUS: nowv, please don't tell anyone i said so, but you and i both knowv pretty much all these people should feel honored to go out vwith a guy like me. CRONUS: vwhat being royalty and all, and not evwen slightly put off by dating dowvn on the spectrum. i mean, really, howv much more evwident can i make it to evweryone that im really a cool, progressivwe, easy going dude, vwho doesnt take the social order seriously or buy into any of the stereotypes? first of all, as if the hemospectrum scene isnt 8EYOND played out. #you should be sticking your fork in THAT CRONUS: i barely EVWER evwen bring up my high social status. it couldnt be LESS of a big deal to me, but i think people maybe are still intimidated by it? theyre probably putting me on a pedestal, in spite of all my easy going assurances that my royal lineage is something i nevwer evwen think about. like, no friend, i am just like you. vwe laugh at the same jokes, listen to, vwell, to some extent, the same music… #i at least USED to listen to music you like #does that count? CRONUS: all these cats and kittens, im telling you. theyre alvways drawvn to the freaks and rejects. you havwe to be 8ROKEN in some vway to get a little concupiscent attention. #cats #kittens #freaks #rejects #broken

You got a whole bunch of SEA DWELLER BLING! It's pretty obvious this all belongs to Cronus over there. He's just not wearing it right now so he can convince everyone he doesn't feel like his royalty status is a big deal, even though he does.

Moreover, we get a direct parallel to Eridan's final conversation between him, Feferi, and Sollux, with the interaction Cronus has with Meenah and Mituna - in both cases, the violet-blood has a crush on their fuchsia, while probably having some sort of blackrom thing with the mustard (ashen for Eridan, pitch for Cronus). The differences really highlight how different the two are.

First, Eridan doesn't actually mean all the casteist things he says to Sollux - we know this because he's actually mentioned Sollux twice before, and both times, felt no need to comment on Sollux's lowblood status at all. Eridan is so transparently full of shit that even his own teammates don't think he's actually being casteist, and instead take it as ashenflirting:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)( you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspiticize between you two, and pull us out of your quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

But while Eridan leads with casteism he doesn't mean, after being rejected by his fuchsia blood, Cronus rounds on Mituna to vent his frustration, revealing HIS real feelings:

CRONUS: i said shut up. do you havwe any idea vwhat a man of my class vwould do if a mustard blood like you spoke to me this vway on alternia? honestly, sometimes i think i vwas hatched in the vwrong univwerse, let ALONE the vwrong body. CRONUS: i am so sick of havwing to pretend to treat you vwith the dignity you vwouldnt deservwe evwen if you COULD count the scars on my forehead. you couldnt tell me the ansvwer if i asked vwhat your favworite number vwas. ... CRONUS: you are a brain damaged reject on a team full of rejects. a rejects reject. i vwould havwe culled you myself if that vword meant vwhat it should havwe on our planet.

Moreover, Eridan is genuinely wracked with emotional anguish basically 24/7, but he refuses to allow anyone else to provide him with emotional support, lashing out at Feferi when she insinuates that she's been taking care of him up to that point.

CC: I can’t look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

On the other hand, Cronus outright admits that his constant talk of being a "sensitivwe soul" is bullshit he uses to attract the ladies:

MITUNA: 1M 50RRY CRONUS: no youre not. youre lying. CRONUS: your vwhole bifurcated demeanor is such an act. half the time you are noxious and incomprehensible, and the other half you are mild and contrite? sure, "PAL." CRONUS: as if im not SO on to you. you only pretend to say youre sorry to get girls to like you more. sure seems like pyropes a sucker for the ruse. like im not familiar vwith THOSE tactics. vwho do you think vwrote the book on that??

CRONUS: guess ill attempt ghost suicide YET AGAIN. CRONUS: of course by vwhich i mean, tell people i did, to vwin sympathy points. MITUNA: D0357H H47 W0RK CRONUS: not really.

This isn't to say that Cronus doesn't have legitimate emotional issues - just that they aren't the ones he says that they are. When Aranea is expositing on Cronus to Meenah, she winds up explaining that Cronus used to believe in a prophecy where he was Harry Potter and LE was Voldemort, and that it was his destiny to destroy this evil wizard, but that his team basically bullied that belief out of him:

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. [...] I'm unsure why he suffered this crisis of faith, aside from the o8vious reasons having to do with an overall lack of character, or any other redeeming qualities. Perhaps someone talked him out of his 8eliefs. May8e a friend close to him. Or, if one is to 8elieve his fantasy held any water, perhaps someone who was in league with the evil magician. Whatever the case, it was pro8a8ly for the 8est, since pretty much everyone who had half a think pan thought it was all a 8unch of ridiculous nonsense.

Which, you know, given that he was their HOPE player, was probably a not-good thing that they did. Put a pin in this conversation, we'll return to it in a bit.

His humankin stuff is mostly treated as a joke, but it's also a symptom of this - we know that it's actually a portal to something Cronus genuinely feels bad about, because despite complaining about how you need to have something wrong with you to get concupiscent action, he's uncomfortable bringing it up to Meenah.

MEENAH: i heard a rumor you think youre a human now MEENAH: that true CRONUS: its a privwate matter. i dont see vwhy i should havwe to talk about it vwith you, and open myself up to more of your judgmental scorn.

He's a Hope player who lost what he believes in - so his actual emotional problems stem from directionlessness, exacerbated by the fact that he's generally untalented, feels entitled due to his high caste and resentful that it's not being respected, and doesn't seem to have any real goals aside from sleeping with other people (and now he's dead). As a result, he's clung onto this idea that maybe the reason he feels so empty inside is because he's not actually a troll - not wanting to be himself, he tries to be something else.

So let's go back to the pin we put into Aranea talking about how he was talked out of his beliefs. Cronus very nearly reaches self-awareness about how being humankin is just a cover for his actual emotional problems... and then "a friend close to him" - maybe the only friend close to him that he has - talked him out of that epiphany.

KANKRI: Listen, I was d9ing y9u a fav9r. Y9u d9n't need t9 6e dating any9ne wh9 can't appreciate y9u f9r wh9 y9u really are, 9r m9re imp9rtantly, which fantasy versi9n 9f y9urself y9u m9st str9ngly identify with. CRONUS: yeah, youre probably right. she doesnt appreciate me. so fevw of you cats do, really. #evwen the ones vwho literally identify as cats CRONUS: to be honest, she might be right. sometimes i think i might only be saying im a human to get attention. maybe i should givwe it up. KANKRI: I'd 6e extremely disapp9inted t9 hear that, if it were true. That w9uld 6e such a slap in the face t9 all th9se wh9 kn9w themselves t9 6e an alien while trapped in the pedestrian 69dy 9f their 9wn race. It w9uld 6e unspeaka6ly invalidating 9f their struggles and massively triggering t9 their em9ti9ns. #TW #invalidated struggles #triggered em9ti9ns KANKRI: 6ut f9rtunately, I kn9w y9u w9uld never st99p as l9w as that. Y9u understanda6ly have d9u6ts a69ut y9ur feelings and pr96a6ly d9wnplay them as a defense mechanism, since s9 few are prepared t9 rec9gnize the legitimacy 9f y9ur plight. 6ut I am, and I just wanted y9u t9 kn9w that I'm here f9r y9u, and am prepared t9 lecture t9 y9u extensively, I mean, listen t9 y9u extensively, a69ut y9ur ultra-imp9rtant pr96lem. CRONUS: vwowv. thanks, pal. CRONUS: youre right. my feelings really are real. not fake, like the huge disappointing fraud that magic turned out to be. CRONUS: i guess the truth is, deep dowvn i alvways knewv i vwas a 1950s-style human greaser. CRONUS: i just needed to finally be introduced to human culture to make sense of those feelings. KANKRI: W9nderful. I'm s9 happy y9u have f9und the light 9f truth within y9urself. N9w j9in me in tagging 9ur discussi9n with righte9us warnings, as we c9nsecrate y9ur disadvantage in the h9ly annals 9f Pr96lematics.

She also mentions it might have been someone "in league with the evil wizard," which would indicate Damara or Kurloz, but he never mentions Damara even once, and he actually seems to be on neutral terms with Kurloz:

and i vwouldnt dare to intrude on your longstanding moirallegiance vwith kurloz, and not because he scares the shit out of me either. that just really seems to vwork, you and him, doesnt it? i dont get a peep out of him of course, not evwen if im super nice and compliment his hideous hair[.]

So since we literally see Kankri exacerbating Cronus's problem by not only insisting that he not introspect, but expresses that he would be extremely disappointed in Cronus if Cronus did, I'm inclined to believe that the one who talked the Hope player into giving up his Hope beliefs was Kankri.

So what I'm saying is, if Karkat and Eridan are beautiful soul mates who make each other better in basically every way, Kankri and Cronus are incredibly toxic for each other and are in desperate need of a fucking auspice. Somebody please middle leaf these two, they cannot be left alone. Kankri's wader tendencies validate Cronus's entitlement and stagnation, and Kankri loves manipulating Cronus into believing whatever BS Kankri is espousing, because that's how Kankri gets his validation.

Kankri and Cronus means love loses.

Thank you for reading.

[hellomagicalsouls]

✨he looks heavenly✨

i am so excited to see this man in action for season 4. it's going to be full one tarot card, séance readings, all round witch shit. which is what i've wanted since day one.

the fashion, the vibe, the pose. beautiful. its giving klaus season one or the closest we'll get to season one.

and klaus season one will always be famous. the jewellery. the background, yes it dingy and grimy but im obsessed. i have way too many feelings on how good he looks.

i would prefer he had his curls but im willing to overlook it for this absolutely impeccable picture.

i am so excited to see him hopefully use his powers and maybe even enjoy using them. still worried about the damn tower tarot card but this. this is everything ive wanted in klaus.

when i think about klaus, this is damn near perfect to what i think. add curls and it is perfect.