#i probably talked for way too long but it's whatevs

[cometconmain]

I have someone who comes to groom my dog because I physically can't keep up with it. He's extremely good at his job.

He also thinks Trump isn't all that bad a guy, the Democrats are the anti-human rights party, had no idea the Supreme Court was a thing/is controlled by Republicans and that's why so many human rights are being rolled back in America, refuses to actually use his privilege of having a preferential voting system to not have to vote for the two major shitty parties because he insists on believing nothing good has been done despite numerous proving points to the contrary in his own life let alone others' lives, thinks climate change is a hoax and can't wrap his head around why university studies need to be checked for a donor list and a fossil fuel company supported 'study' isn't reliable actually, hasn't even learned the most basic empathy concept of "you not suffering from a problem other people suffer from doesn't make that problem less important/you should care about people whose lives you don't experience", outright said with his full chest that maybe we should racially segregate the Olympics again actually, and a number of other toxic to downright rancid things I would have just written him off and slammed the door in his face for last year let alone a few years ago.

Don't get me wrong. Talking to him is fucking EXHAUSTING and I feel physically disgusting afterward having to just calmly listen to all these things he spouts which have historically resulted in entire groups of people being targeted for genocide and numerous other human rights abuses when left unchecked and allowed to fester at the societal level.

BUT HE LISTENS WHEN I CHALLENGE HIM.

I can see him actually seeing me as a human being worth listening to. He's older than me and definitely been down way too many right-wing rabbit holes for me to pull him onto the surface any time soon. But I'm giving him things to chew on and hopefully if we're lucky I've planted some seeds which will eventually grow into some semi decent human being plants one day. He's really ignorant and clearly under-educated and that itself isn't his fault and biting his head off isn't remotely going to make up for that gap and is only going to drive him further into the arms of whatever fucked up extremist conservative groups he's been listening to.

He is reachable. He's just also a very long project I only get to work on for an hour at a time every 6 weeks.

And some of the things I've said which I think were part of what got through to him involved showing empathy for him being a single father(? I may have mixed that up with someone else but I think he is) with a disabled kid. He shows empathy for disabled people because he's the father of one (and probably is neurodivergent himself I believe but unsupported and doing his best to give his son the support he didn't get from the sounds of it).

But yeah.

Listen: you don't have to take shit to the face if the person is solely malicious and trying to hurt you. No one is obligated to meet that with kindness and anyone saying otherwise can get fucked. There is a limit to how much bullshit someone can cop while the bullshitter acts like any emotional response to their bullshit is unreasonable/out of nowhere and that is valid on the part of the person copping the crap.

However, if you a) can handle coping long enough to break down those walls with unexpected kindness/it isn't dangerous for you to try that method (VERY IMPORTANT. PAY ATTENTION TO THOSE DETAILS. DON'T TRY THAT ON SOMEONE WHO IS ACTIVELY THREATENING/DANGEROUS TO YOU), or b) can tell it's soft bigotry/general ignorance driving the otherwise yuck things being said, do give the compassion and patient education route a try.

I've had numerous instances of me holding shitty ignorant beliefs I had no idea were actually harmful. The people biting my head off didn't get to me. The people who took the time to see I was just ignorant and under-educated on the matter (and hadn't yet developed the empathy for a group I didn't belong to) taking me aside and patiently dealing with my idiocy long enough to explain things to me in a way that got through my skull (and eventually into my heart as well) were the ones who fundamentally improved me as a person. I still have plenty of things I always have to work on. But I can tell you now I would be much MUCH worse without those patient, kind, educational interventions by people who could tell the difference between malice and ignorance.

The same applies to everyone else.

Human beings are human beings. All of us. Re-humanising each other is the last thing any of the politicians and extremist groups want us to do BECAUSE IT WORKS. IT BREAKS THE WARPED MODEL OF THE WORLD THEY PORTRAY AS REALITY TO DIVIDE US AND KEEP US ALL AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS INSTEAD OF CUTTING OFF THE FOOD SOURCE FOR THEIR WEEDS AT THE ROOT.

When we remind a hurting person that we are a person too, not the bogeyman the extremist groups paint us as, it shakes their warped worldview to the core. It makes them think. It makes them QUESTION. It makes them look at the flower the 'evil' Pride-pin wearer gave them because no one gave them flowers when their mother died and their hate begins to crack at the seams.

The things the world teaches men hurts men too. Teaching them they DON'T have to subscribe to that mentality all the way down to the roots of the patriarchy weed is the best and most effective way of cutting that mentality off at the source. Even if you struggle to empathise with men because you've been hurt; ok, valid. But it is demonstrably more effective, sustainable and long term changing to just get rid of all of it by addressing their pain and showing them how much healthier and happier they can be just in their own life let alone others' lives by casting off the system that hurts them too.

I'm pretty sure I'm just rehashing the same points here, sorry, but the concept of deradicalisation as a healing and long term change tool has been my social justice special interest this year so talking it out helps it solidify in my own head too. (And gives me strength to deal with bullshit because it reminds me it's worth copping what I can personally handle in order to get someone to think, change and grow, one exhausting person at a time).

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) “these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won’t MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!” and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term “real men” is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women’s pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners’ pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don’t get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that “well, I don’t believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it’s okay!”

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it’s equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can’t just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

[yuwuta]

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 

Or, perhaps, fuel them. 

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 

“Tell me more about them.” 

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 

“Unless a fourth happens.” 

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 

“You want a big family.” 

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 

[acid-ixx]

last night, i just had a terrible nightmare where someone sent in a really long ask that was straight up hating and criticizing every part of my writing. calling out the insecurities/faults, plot inconsistencies, and insulting my writing style—

which i admit: yeah, it's wordy and really long, sometimes i focus too much on one scene or on the emotions solely, and i focus on every single detail; i'm a very emotional and hypersensitive person who likes to overanalyze on the scenes and characters. i acknowledge that it's unconventional and unprofessional at times; but it's what makes me happy and it's up to readers to continue reading or not despite the length. it's my own writing, i write content for free and everything i post are indulgent on my part, hence why i explicitly state i don't really wish for constructive criticism since again, it's all for free and it's all done for fun.

though, in that dream, it came to the point where the ask straight up told me i should just quit writing, that whatever i'm writing for is utter trash (overrated, it says. there are better writers out there and, yeah, i agree. i've the passion and drive but not so much for talent) and not worth the effort to read. so i did what was told and deactivated my account and went on to never write anymore fanfics after just how shaken up i was, then i woke up HAHAHAH.

and it genuinely felt so real, ngl. i couldn't get it off of my mind even until now, so here i am rambling about it. sorry if anyone expected me to post a drabble, or a fanfic; but right now i need more time to ponder upon whether or not i should change my writing style 'cause chapter five pt 2 will be posted soon but it's longer and who knows? maybe my worst nightmare may come true if i post it and it's subpar, not up to expectation.

and if people don't really wish for something long that borders on boring or filler scenes, then maybe, maybe not i will change how i write (but i probably won't lmao). either way, i have to remind myself that i am writing for myself, and posting it to simply archive in this account. i just hope people won't be as cruel as that mystery person in my dreams if i ever do

it's genuinely the audience's choice to read my works or not if the length or style bothers them. and as entitled as i may sound, i wish to remind some that writing a chapter with more than 10k words is my choice, and it's an arduous process too that takes hours of my time. writing fanfics is for me is purely indulgent and are reflections of my real life experiences, if it's lengthy, then yes i chose it to be, but it's not like i'm writing a thesis or an essay, i'm writing a goddamn fanfic with stereotypical tropes (most especially yandere) because it what makes me enjoy my passion as an author.

i apologize again for the long ramble, i really just need this out of my thoughts. this is my own blog too so yeah 😭. if you guys follow me solely for my fanfics, then filter out the "🍨... yael's talking" tag if you wish to avoid these types of talks.

[1425fivefive]

Prompt 9 for landoscar👀 you’re amazing by the way!!

lingerie for landoscar!! what a treat! (for the kink prompt ask)

Lando stares at the stockings laid out on the bed, trying to work out whether they’re sexy or ridiculous. The lacy bra and panties are already a bit much but Lando stared at his arse in the mirror earlier, knows the cut of the light blue lace makes his arse look perky and full. Fuckable. The bra’s good too, cups his pecs nicely. Makes them look sort of like tits.

But the stockings. The stockings just feel sort of excessive.

Lando stands staring at them for ages, long enough that he starts to worry Oscar will be arriving soon. Letting himself in with the key Lando gave him a few weeks ago. 

In the end, Lando shoves the stockings in the closet and pulls on a hoodie and sweatpants. Oscar and he had only really chatted about the bra and panties. Oscar probably would just be, like, confused if Lando had stockings on too.

Lando hears the click of the front door and he hurries out to the hall to find Oscar in the front hall, wearing a fucking McLaren polo and khaki shorts.

“Oh my god,” Lando says, rolling his eyes. “I wear lingerie for you and you turn up in a fucking team polo.”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Then: “Lingerie?”

Lando squirms, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “Yeah, like—we talked about it?”

They had. Not, like, thoroughly or anything, but Oscar had mentioned it once ages ago while he was eating Lando out, talked about how pretty Lando’s arse would look in a thong. Rolled him over and sucked and bit his nipples and told him how good his tits would look in a bra. Lando had come so hard he’d blacked out a bit. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

But Lando’s realizing that maybe it’d all just been dirty talk. Shit Oscar said because it sounded hot, not because Oscar, like, actually wanted to see his boyfriend in a lacy bra and panties. Like Oscar doesn’t even like girls, it’d been stupid honestly to think he’d want to see Lando dressed like one.

Lando flushes, humiliated, and says, “I’ll go— M’gonna change.”

He turns to go, kicking himself for thinking this was a good idea, but he feels Oscar’s fingers close around his wrist, tugging him back.

When Lando turns to look at him, Oscar’s cheeks are flushed, eyes wide.

“You’re wearing it?” Oscar asks, voice strained. “Like, right now?”

Lando shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, like—thought it’d be hot or whatever, but, like—”

“Fuck,” Oscar groans, tugging Lando closer, slipping a hand down the back of Lando’s sweatpants, running a finger over the lace. “Christ, Lando, that’s—” Oscar trails off, bringing his free hand up to Lando’s hair and pulling him in for a rough kiss.

Lando moans into the kiss, throwing his arms around Oscar’s neck, dragging him closer. Oscar’s hard underneath his shorts and Lando whimpers against Oscar’s mouth, his own cock pressing against the lace of the panties.

Oscar pulls away first. “Bra, too?”

Lando sucks his lip between his teeth but he nods.

“Jesus,” Oscar groans. He tugs at the hem of Lando’s sweatshirt. “Let me see.”

Lando lets out a shocked, delirious laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar echoes. He gives Lando a private little grin, eyes bright, pupils huge and dark.

Lando takes a shaky breath but he tugs the hoodie over his head, revealing the lacy bra.

Oscar moans at the sight, bringing a hand to cup Lando’s pec, running a thumb over the nipple. The rough drag of the lace over Lando’s nipple feels incredible, has Lando letting out a desperate little whimper, eyes fluttering.

“God,” Oscar breathes, staring at Lando’s chest, “look at you.”

“Please,” Lando whines, pushing into Oscar’s hand. 

He’s not sure what he’s begging for but he knows he wants more. Wants Oscar’s hands and mouth on every part of him all at once, wants Oscar to pull his sweatpants down and look at the way his cock’s straining against the panties. Wants Oscar to tug the string of his thong to the side and lick into him, wet and messy and perfect. Wants Oscar to talk about his tight little hole in that low, rasping voice Oscar has right when he’s about to come. Maybe, if Lando’s really good, Oscar will call it a pussy.

A shiver courses through Lando and he lets out a desperate little whimper. “Please, Osc,” Lando whispers, cock aching in his sweatpants.

Oscar groans, giving Lando’s tit one last squeeze, and says, “Bedroom.”

Lando takes off for the bedroom so fast he almost trips over his feet. 

Oscar steadies him, laughing softly. “Careful.”

Normally Lando would roll his eyes, let out an annoyed huff. But as it is he just gets himself sorted and hurries the rest of the way to the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed.

When Oscar comes into the bedroom, Lando points at the McLaren polo and says, “Off.”

Oscar snorts. “Bossy.” But he does what he’s told, tossing the polo on the carpet. He steps out of his shorts too, leaving him in just his underwear, and Lando’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Oscar’s cock straining against the fabric.

Oscar climbs onto the bed between Lando’s legs, fingers playing with the band of Lando’s sweatpants before tugging them off.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar groans, eyes dragging over Lando’s body.

Lando can’t resist showing off a bit, spreading his legs. He wonders if Oscar can see the jeweled plug he pushed inside himself earlier, a light blue to match the underwear. He spoils Oscar, honestly.

Lando brings a hand up to cup his tit over the bra, playing with his nipple through the lace, and spreads his legs, grinning when Oscar’s eyes darken.

“Do I look good?” Lando asks.

Oscar huffs a laugh, stroking a hand over Lando’s thigh. “You know you do.”

“Yeah, but”—Lando whimpers when Oscar bends down to press a kiss to his stomach—“want to hear you say it.”

Oscar glances up at him, eyes softening. “Yeah, Lando,” Oscar murmurs. “You look so fucking pretty.”

Lando whimpers, cock throbbing in his underwear. “Am I—” Lando breaks off on a moan, almost too turned on by the thought of what he’s about to say to get the words out. But he manages to ask, “Am I a good girl?”

Oscar lets out a shocked moan, fingers tightening on Lando’s hip. Before Lando can say anything more, tease Oscar about how crazy it obviously makes him, Lando’s being flipped onto his stomach, face landing in the pillows with an oof.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar groans. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Lando lets out a yelp of Oscar’s name when he feels teeth digging into his arsecheek, biting down, but a tongue drags over it quickly, soothing the sting.

“Want me to eat you out?” Oscar asks, voice ragged. “Want me to lick your pussy?”

Lando lets out a hoarse scream into his pillow, hips hitching against the mattress. It drives him crazy when Oscar talks like that, dirty and filthy, nothing like how Oscar normally acts. It’s even hotter because Lando knows Oscar can only manage it when he’s too turned on to feel self-conscious, overthink everything he says.

“Yes,” Lando pleads, grinding against the bed. “Please lick my pussy, Oscar, please.”

Oscar lets out a desperate moan. “Good girl.”

With that, Lando feels the string of his thong being pulled to the side, his hole twitching in the cool air of the room.

"Christ" Oscar moans, and Lando feels the plug being pulled free, tossed to the side. "You're insane."

Lando's about to object, point out that he's only insane because Oscar likes it, but Oscar’s mouth is on him before he can, hot and wet, tongue dragging over him.

Lando can’t resist shoving back against him, trying to get more, desperate for Oscar’s mouth even when he already has it.

“Please,” Lando begs, fingers tightening on the pillow, toes curling. An image flashes through his mind of his feet wrapped in stockings, pretty blue lace stretched around his thighs. He lets out a desperate moan, rim fluttering under Oscar’s tongue.

Oscar whines against him and he licks firmly, hand coming up to squeeze at the meat of Lando’s arse.

Lando feels like he’s shaking out of his body and it’s made even worse when Oscar pulls back and spits on his hole, the filthiness of it devastatingly hot.

“Oscar,” Lando cries, shoving his arse back, begging for more.

Lando feels one of Oscar’s fingers pushing in, nothing but his spit to ease the way. It’s enough though and Oscar’s finger slips in, Lando’s cock blurting in his panties. He wants Oscar to make him come in them, make him ruin the pretty lace, maybe lick him clean, after.

When Oscar lets a bit more spit drip onto Lando’s hole, managing to fit a second finger into him, Lando sobs into the pillow.

“Such a good girl,” Oscar murmurs, voice low and rasping. “Look how well you take it.”

Lando sobs again.

“Reckon I could fuck you like this?” Oscar asks idly. “Just my spit?”

Lando whimpers. Nods, shakes his head.

“Think I could,” Oscar says, rubbing his fingers against Lando’s prostate. “You’d take it so well. Want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, voice wet. “Yeah. Wanna be your good girl.”

Oscar groans, and Lando feels Oscar’s tongue lick over Lando’s rim next to his fingers.

Lando feels like he’s dripping with it, so wet from Oscar’s spit that he almost feels like—like a girl. The thought has his cock spurting pre-come into his panties, his hole clenching tightly around Oscar’s fingers.

“God, Lando,” Oscar says, voice reverent. “You’re so hot like this. Such a good fucking girl.”

“Please,” Lando whines. “Oh, fuck, I—please.”

“Yeah?” Oscar asks. “Gonna come like this? Make a mess of your panties.”

Lando cries out into the pillow. He feels wet and disgusting and hot, his hole dripping, his cock sticky where it’s pressed against the bed, his face soaked with sweat and tears. He’s right on the edge, fucking back against Oscar’s fingers, but he can’t quite get there, doesn’t know what he needs.

“Come, baby,” Oscar murmurs. “Be a good girl and come.”

Lando tries, he tries, but he can’t, sobbing when his cock’s still aching against the sheets, rim fluttering rapidly around Oscar’s fingers. “I can’t,” Lando cries. “Fuck, I—m’trying.”

Oscar spits on Lando’s hole, the spit running down Lando’s skin. “You can,” Oscar says. “You’re a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lando whimpers, sobs. “Yeah, ‘m a good girl.”

“You are,” Oscar soothes. “And good girls always do what they’re told.”

Lando lets out a shocked moan, body seizing up, cock kicking in his panties, hole clenching around Oscar’s fingers. And then it all rushes out at once, pleasure flooding through him, his cock soaking his panties, his hole tightening around Oscar’s fingers.

“Thank you,” Lando whines, shaking through his orgasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Oscar moans but he keeps working Lando through it, helping Lando ride out his orgasm.

After, Lando slumps against the bed, too exhausted to do anything other than lay in his own mess. But Oscar slips his fingers out and rolls Lando over onto his back, revealing the white stain in his panties, the flush spreading down to his chest.

“God,” Oscar moans, eyes fixed on Lando’s panties. “That’s—fuck.”

“Oscar,” Lando whimpers, not sure what he’s asking for.

But Oscar gives him a soft smile and leans down to press a soft kiss to his panties, right over his spent cock.

“Sensitive,” Lando whines, squirming away.

“Is it?” Oscar asks, giving Lando a cheeky little grin. “I thought good girls could come more than once.”

Lando lets out a shocked gasp, thighs splaying open involuntarily.

“There you go,” Oscar says, laughing softly. “Still need to fuck you in this, anyway.”

Lando whimpers, rim clenching weakly. “There’s stockings too,” Lando whispers. He’s not sure why he says it, knows if he was smart he’d tell Oscar he’s too tired. But instead he jerks his chin toward the closet. “In there.”

“Fucking hell,” Oscar groans, glancing over at the closet. “Want me to get them?”

Lando hesitates for only a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, like—want to be pretty for you.”

Oscar moans, leaning down to press a kiss to Lando’s lips, soft and tender. “You are, Lando,” Oscar whispers. “So fucking pretty.”

[cryptid-killjoy]

Delta loved when Frank expressed himself in ways like this, drawing in her blood. She didn't always realize it if it was on her back. Sometimes she'd see it later. Extra surprise gifts for later. How could she not love this man? So psycho for her and so damn cute. It was a winning combo.

After recomposing and letting Frank fix her shirt and wings she was too amused. Frank looked so handsome to her tonight. His grin over getting one over on Arthur even after death felt fitting somehow. She couldn't decide if it was a trick or a treat. It was probably both because it was great. She wasn't mad. For a moment she thought she should be, but she just wasn't. Maybe she liked showing off Frank won again just for old time sake. Maybe she liked when Frank teased Arthur for whatever reason. Maybe she just didn't give a fuck because she had too much real heavy shit in her mind to care about such a silly thing. Or maybe she just found it really damn funny Lil John was the one wearing her number one fan gear when Arthur seemed to be her little stalker.

Either way, she'd reply, "Yes, let's. Our guests are waiting."

Arthur would panic as expected by the couple who were both no doubt inwardly sniggering inside their heads as they walked closer to him. Every step was a doomsday closing in. Did Arthur know Frank had mind powers of some type? Sure. Did he know if it worked on ghosts? He was going to assume it did unstill he knew it otherwise. He tried so hard to clear his mind while he was trying to get his boner to settle and act natural all at once. The stairwell was too long to go rushing down for his prosthetic leg in time to look any sort of normal. But he couldn't think it through. He started to hop down steps in his haste and soon came to the realization as he heard the footsteps catching up behind him.

The more he tried to clear his head the more his thoughts raced the opposite effect happened. His head was filled with more thoughts than before. Everything he told himself not to think about came to the surface. He finally turned around and tried to stand in place on the stair and leaned like he was chilling there.

"Oh, hey guys! Fancy meeting you here of all places."

Delta stopped her feet. She watched as Arthur couldn't figure out where to comfortably fix his eyes upon either one of them. His nerves were on display. That made her grin all the more. The glace at Frank's pants and intenseness after on deliberately not looking there again, at least trying not to. He was having a hard time looking Delta in the eyes. So, of course she kept looking directly in his.

"Uh huh. Yeah, so weird finding us in our own home where we live."

She was cutting him any slack.

"Uhhhhhhhhh, right." He kept trying to keep his waistline turned slightly to the wall. He was hanging on a guard rail. "I was looking for you guys."

"So strange to find us in our own home where we live when you were looking for us."

"Heh. Yeah."

She kept right on his eyes making him all the more uncomfortable.

"Get on with it Arthur. Tell us what you were looking for us for." Still not once mentioning him standing around in the middle of a lengthy stairwell on one leg or questioning it.

"Oh uh right. Well, I'm only here for a night. I just really wanted to see you both. I've been waiting for this night." He started talking faster. "Remember when I used to get into comas, or anesthesia, or whatever and I'd manage to find you guys in death? Now I'm on the other side. It's trickier to find ways. Especially at your castle. Can't get in here."

"That's on purpose."

"Right." He stared for a second with a trying to read Delta wondering if he unwelcome or not and she gave no sign of him not counting when it came to her ghost protections. So the silence eventually was cut off by his own talking. He had to keep going.

"Well uh anyway. I keep trying to warn you and couldn't figure out how till today. I finally got in."

Delta rolled her fingers in a hurry this up motion.

"Right. Right. What I'm trying to say is there's disturbance in force."

Delta's brow went up.

"I mean there's people in Feral. Silas and the Evil Queen. She's in the swamps."

Delta's eyes narrowed. "Is that all? Just two?"

"You're mostly left with stray semi-immortal types in the depths like the pixies. But yeah, the queen's out at Skull Rock where your mother had her meetings. She was living out there with Silas. I thought you'd want to know about them."

She thought to herself, "We already have Silas." The Queen slipped under their nose.

Things Delta was realizing as he spoke. Arthur and possibly other Merry Men were still watching over Feral even after death. It was only now she was even realizing they were going by their Sherwood names in death when they were out there on the dance floor. She had to admit she hadn't thought a whole lot about the Merry Men since they left. Out of sight out mind maybe? But now that they were here it was giving her something to think about. Too much for now. She was trying to have a party. Maybe Arthur proved to be useful in the end too, not just for entertainment.

She stared at him after he gave the information, he'd been dying to give them all night. He had no idea they already had Silas locked up. Knowing the queen was out there was still helpful. She could tell he was looking for a thanks or a good job. Instead she changed the subject.

"Could have sworn I saw you earlier in the ball room with two legs."

"Me? Nah. What's a ghost need a leg for? Nah. Nah. Not me. Prosthetic ghost legs. Ha ha." He tried to play it off. His voice got higher pitched as the sentence went on.

He wasn't thinking this through. His leg was at the bottom of the winding stair. What then?

Delta looked up at Frank, "Oh, my bad. I must have miss seen."

Frank didn’t need to scour that pretty little brain to know how good Delta was feeling, her mumbles, her inability to say his name, her quivering mess of a body was loud enough. It was impossible not to feel cocky - heh heh - with his girl reacting like this. She might not have had anything else to compare it with but damn, he knew that she was enjoying this, same as he was.

His acid girl. She was melting him into her, even after they were finished, he was all over her, hands and fingers stroking the back, the wings, her upper thighs, feeling his sterile seed slipping out and pushing it back in so that they were one before they finally started to get dressed once more.

He spread the blood on her wings, before - in an almost overly cute motion - he drew a small heart on her skin with her own blood. “Art on art,” He admired his own little piece on her. She had made so many marks on him, so permanent - but he wouldn’t want to affect her perfect skin. Each scar, each freckle, each cut from the wings escaping - were exactly as it should be.

A smirk was across his face, his large eyes lingering on hers as he ‘lurched’ over her, forked tongue escaping his lips to lick at them as she bit on him so deliciously. “We both did,” He agreed. There was tension that he had needed to work off, as there always was when there was a lot of people in their space. He wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until things were as they were supposed to be. But this was a good amount of relief.

He ripped at her clothing carefully for her. Not with brute strength but with calculated rips, making it look as if it was intentional, and then the wings had all the space that they needed to come out, to spread the way that they should be. These beautiful goddamn wings, that he stroked and admired now, even while knowing there was an audience. A world of their own, acting like no one could see, no one could interrupt.

He’d been too in the zone to really tune into Arthur’s thoughts during his fuck session. He was inside of the most perfect girl alive, what kind of fool would he be if he spent that time figuring out what some bald-headed little voyeur was thinking? But now that the post-sexual haze was dissipating, he could tune on in.

And it was hilarious.

‘Not only dreaming. He’s one bit of friction away from cumming his pants,’ Frank replied to Delta, a smirk on his face as he looked in that direction as well. He could feel through Arthur that he hadn’t actually seen anything inappropriate on Delta, but oh, he caught that his dick had been sighted. Good. That just made it all the more funny.

He ran his fingers through Delta’s curls, adjusting them so they were less messy, and then bent low to kiss the top of her head. And then loud enough to let Arthur hear - “Shall we return to our guests?”

In the hopes that he would scramble around and try to get himself together. Shuffle down the stairs on his ass to try to get his other fake leg or something. There was some joy in the aardvark’s misery. But he couldn’t help letting out a chuckle, an outward expression of how much he was enjoying making the few hours that Arthur was here into something so … diabolical horny.

[possibilistfanfiction]

arcane prompt "hospital"?

[jinx deserves the world, also it's nice to let cait use her girlboss disposition for good sometimes, yknow. ao3 here.]

///

you hand caitlyn a cup of black tea she probably thinks is beyond shitty; it's all they had at the cart in the courtyard, and you still have no idea how to make proper tea anyway. still, she smiles — small, and residually scared, but genuine — in thanks. she's been crying, you can tell: her eyes are red-rimmed and the sweater of vi's she'd thrown on in the middle of the night is rumpled around the sleeves, like she'd used them to wipe her tears.

'she's going to be okay, right?' you look at vi's still, bruised form in the bed. 'they didn't, like, tell you really bad news while i was gone or something.'

caitlyn steadies herself. 'no,' she assures you. 'she's going to be just fine.'

'okay,' you say, and you trust her because she loves vi and because she's a doctor, and mostly because at this point caitlyn wouldn't lie to you. you scoot your chair forward and lace your fingers together with vi's hand, the one without an iv taped into it, and squeeze gently, just a hello. the doctors had explained that she's on a lot of medicine to keep her comfortable, plus the anesthesia from her surgery, so she's not going to wake up until midday at the earliest. but just in case she can feel you, you want her to know that you're there. you remember coming out of the worst sedations, medication that was wrong for you or just way too high a dose, to vi slumped next to your bedside, her big, strong hand steadfast around yours. 'did you see her x-rays or medical history or something?'

'i didn't intend to,' she says in way of an answer.

'ah.' you fiddle with vi's fingers. 'gnarly, huh?'

she puts her tea down on the small table near the bed and runs a hand through her hair before she scrapes it up into a messy ponytail. 'i knew, in theory,' she says. 'we've talked about things, of course. i'm able to help take care of when her chronic back pain flares, and how she really should have a surgical repair on her bad shoulder. but, i just, well. i suppose i comprehend the breadth of it now, more completely at least, the details in a way i can understand.'

you don't know; you don't ever want to know, not like that. vi still has nightmares about prison, still doesn't eat enough sometimes, still refuses heating pads and advil sometimes after a hard shift. 'yeah.'

'and i suppose, too, that it's hard to know how much she's hurt, even if it's so much less bad now.' she shrugs, helpless, and looks at you. 'i just love her.'

it had been terrifying, to get a call in the middle of the night from the fire department: vi had been in a building when it collapsed, and she was hurt and it was, potentially, very bad. you're not sure who they'd called first — you or caitlyn — but she'd texted you a minute after and offered to pick you up so you could both wait at the hospital while vi was in surgery. it had taken two hours before her dad came out and explained that vi had some internal injuries that still needed more fixing in surgery, as well as a few bruises and scrapes, but she would recover fully with time.

'you should move in with each other,' you say.

caitlyn pauses for a few moments, but then she lets out a quiet laugh. 'how long have you been holding that in?'

you shrug. 'you guys have been together for two years. i know vi wants to.' you don't mention that you hack into caitlyn's person email on occasion, just because you like to be nosey; you don't mention that you'd seen her and vi send property listings back and forth the last few months. 'i know she hasn't said anything to me because she doesn't want to upset me, or make me think like she's choosing you over me, or whatever.'

caitlyn considers it calmly. 'she would never do that, you know.'

'yeah.' you do; it's the thing you know most in the world. 'i also know that she's scared that if she doesn't help me at much, i'll have another episode.'

that, caitlyn has no response to.

'i've talked about this a lot in therapy.' you squeeze vi's hand, just in case she's listening too. 'at first i couldn't manage any of it without her, for sure.'

vi had spent her first month out of prison visiting you in your tent in the scariest part of town, not pushing, just bringing you food and warm clothes, comfortable blankets; she'd sit with you for hours if you'd let her, even if most of the time you talked to voices only you could hear and saw things she never would. finally, you agreed to go to the hospital with her, and from there it was more months of getting clean, and trying different medications, and really lame group therapy, and coming to terms with your diagnosis. vi was there as often as she could be, clean-cut for once while she went through the fire academy. you don't remember many details, but when you'd finally gotten released, she'd brought you to this small, rundown one bedroom apartment that she'd made as nice as she could. the first night you were home, she fell asleep in bed next to you in less than a minute, a few tears on her cheeks, seemingly of their own accord. it's always been a measure of love you'll always be a little in awe of.

'but, like, i remember my meds on my own now. i have a system.'

caitlyn's smile is honest-to-god proud. 'that's no small feat.'

you try to act nonchalant, but she's right: most of your medications have side effects that require other medications to off-set, and it's a nightmare if you don't coordinate them properly. 'and, like, my graduate program is going well, and i have friends, and i like climbing. i feel, not good, i guess. maybe i'll never feel good. but i feel real, and most of the time the world feels real too.'

caitlyn lays her hand on top of yours, and vi's.

'anyway,' you say, clearing your throat so you don't cry. you run your free hand through your hair, grown out some now after your "interesting decision," as vi had said, last year during a meltdown. 'vi can move out, and ekko can move in to our apartment. he's —' your boyfriend? your best friend? your favorite person, other than vi?

caitlyn smiles gently. 'he is.'

'he knows what to do, if i need help.'

'and i know you want to live with vi, and i know she wants to live with you.' even though you invade their privacy by checking emails, you'd never spill the beans that they've both individually been looking at rings. 'i can manage, without her there as much. i don't think either of us ever thought that would be our reality, which is why vi hasn't brought it up. i know she's still scared, probably forever. it was scary.' you take a big breath and then let it out; when you'd first gotten your diagnosis, it seemed like you would never get to be a full, independent person, and then it would be a death sentence. 'but i want to try. i can try.'

caitlyn squeezes your hand, and vi's too. 'i believe you will do wonderfully, in both my professional and personal opinion.'

'oh. really?'

she nods. 'you haven't had a full blown episode in over a year. i see you manage your days, and your impulses. clinically, you're actually a great patient. personally, you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but not because you're unwell.'

'just because of my stunning charm and incredible sense of humor? my flair for the dramatic?'

'something like that, sure.'

you laugh. 'thank you, so so much.'

she rolls her eyes but she's still fond of you, especially in the early morning light. vi's eyes are both bruised blue, but caitlyn had told you that surgeons had finally fixed her broken nose after it broke again this time: you're pretty sure vi hasn't been able to breathe properly since she was, like, twelve. at the very least she'll snore less, so a win for all of you. 'we found a house we want to put an offer in on,' she admits.

'yeah?'

she nods. 'it's not too far from your place, and it's right on the park.'

you scoff, just for posterity. 'fancy.'

she's unfazed by this point. 'we — well, vi was going to tell you, but i know it's fine if i do. we know you and ekko want to keep your current place, and i'd actually like to sit down with both of you and see if there's any way i can assist with your rent or other budgetary items.'

you're definitely, 100% about to cry, all of a sudden.

'she is so proud of you, for even being able to consider pursuing increased independence.'

you sniffle.

'but, the brownstone we're looking at also has a fully finished basement, with a bedroom and a small living area, its own bathroom. we've planned for it to be your space, whenever you want it, for any reason, for however long you'd like to stay. a night, a year. you will always have a home with violet, which means you will always have a home with me too.'

you have to do your deep breathing: sometimes kindness, especially given freely, is what makes the world slide most off-kilter. there are always voices telling you that you don't deserve good things, that caitlyn, and vi, and ekko, and vander, and even caitlyn's parents, when you go over to their giant ass mansion for celebratory dinners or parties, are lying to you. but you put your head down against your joined hands and count to ten, whisper it aloud, and then sit back up. caitlyn is waiting patiently.

'how big is the house?'

she laughs, heartily, and pulls out her phone to show you pictures and specifications. it's beautiful — not that you'd ever expect less of caitlyn kirammen — but she also tells you the plans she has to decorate, and your chest aches with a happiness so tinged with grief when she casually explains things vi wants in each room too. it's a life you never dreamed you'd get to have, and you know vi has probably been having total menty-b's about all of this, but she deserves a home more than anyone you've ever met.

'it's fine, i guess,' you say, after caitlyn finishes showing you their plans for the patio and yard.

caitlyn laughs. 'up to your standards?'

'could use more neon.'

'keep it confined to the basement, and you've got a deal.'

'ugh.'

'the only request i have is that you not blow it up.'

you pretend to contemplate. 'that's reasonable, i guess.' you look around at all the monitors proclaiming your big sister's strong heart and lungs and brain, despite it all. 'vi's gonna be so relieved that we don't have to have a heart to heart when she wakes up.'

caitlyn looks at the still planes of vi's face adoringly. disgusting, still. 'she'll be difficult enough as it stands, i'm sure.'

'total pain in the ass.'

////

you spend the first night after vi moves out in your apartment with ekko, and you fall asleep with your head tucked into his chest, safe still, even now. that weekend, you haul a duffle bag of your stuff — clothes, toiletries, a quarter of your lab, a few cans of spray paint — to vi and caitlyn's new house. neither of them are home yet, vi stuck grumpily on desk duty for the evening and caitlyn's meeting running over.

but your key turns in the lock, and your favorite snacks are stocked in the pantry. eventually, they both get home, and they're happy to see you, and caitlyn laughs at the improvements you've already done to the walls of the basement. vi ruffles your hair and you bully both of them into ordering tacos like you want, even though they have plenty of things you could cook at home. caitlyn is polite enough to let you curl up with vi on the couch, just for tonight, and you fall asleep, safe and warm, there too.

[thatpieceoftrash]

I see my reflection in your eyes

Malleus x reader

WC: 833

In which you try to bring Malleus comfort in any way you can.

You’re not exactly sure how all of this started. Was it the way his voice turned more cheerful? Or maybe it was the longing look in his eyes when he spoke of it (one you were well too acquainted with).

In the end you supposed it wouldn't matter what the reason was, you had something to look forward to, and what you hoped would be a nice gift for a friend, who more than deserved it.

So, the next day after classes and dealing with whatever trouble Grim decided to cause that day, you found yourself in Sam’s shop looking for the (less than)perfect tools, given that you had to work with the small allowance Crowley gave you, In his “benevolence “, as he liked to call it.

“If it isn’t the prefect! What can I do for you? Although I already heard from my friends on the other side that you want to prepare something special for a certain someone.” Sam said with that knowing smile of his.

‘Of course he already knows, it’s like he has ghosts who work as spies for him. Actually maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea for your own ghosts…’

“It's not like you make it out to be, this is a gesture for friendship appreciation” you said, rolling your eyes, even though you knew deep down it was something more than that.

“Whatever you say, little imp” but you didn’t miss the teasing tone his words carried.

You were so excited for this project of yours, that upon returning from Sam’s you didn’t even bother changing out of your uniform, getting started with the task at hand.

Man, and what a task it was going to be. The ramshackle garden was last tended to probably when the wheel was invented . No matter, the state of the dorm never stopped you from achieving your goal, perhaps delayed it a tiny bit, nothing more.

Working with the mud in already freezing conditions was another hell itself, you were pretty sure you touched some weird magical worm, as if normal ones weren’t already bad enough. But imagining the smile on your friend’s face was enough to make you go back to work.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started, although the little group of fireflies surrounding you was a telltale sign that your friend decided to pay you a visit , which only happened at night.

‘Just in time’ you thought to yourself as you turned around and faced the horned visitor.

“Tsunotaro! You’re here at the perfect time.” You chirped, walking up to him with a smile.

“Good evening, child of man”, he greeted, returning your smile, with his own, although his had a hint of mischief in it, “you seem rather excited, did something happen?”

“Something like that, I wanna show you something I think you’ll like.” And then you stepped out of the way to give him a full view of the little colourful corner that now took residence in your garden. You looked up at him to try and gouge his expression, his eyes widened a little, however his smile was completely gone.

‘Uh-oh, did he not like it?! Of course he wouldn't, you idiot!, he’s a prince and these dumb flowers were probably nothing in comparison to his royal garden’

“If you don’t like it, I completely understand, it’s nothing special and-“ but before you could finish your sentence, you heard a joyous laugh coming from Malleus, startled you looked up only to see him staring at the roses in front of him.

“Truly, you are a most interesting human, did you do all this for me?” And he finally turned to look at you.

“Well, every time you talked about your rose garden back at home, you got this faraway look in your eyes, like you’re longing for something”, you said lowering your head in embarrassment, “I know homesickness better than anyone, Tsunotaro. So I was hoping these flowers would make you feel a bit better. “

And then you felt cold fingers on your chin tilting your head upwards, all you could see was beautiful emerald green eyes, which held such a fond look and utter adoration in them, you could hardly believe the recipient was you.

“There is no need to be ashamed ", he said softly. “To think you would be so perceptive to feelings I wasn’t even aware of having, and what’s more, you were kind enough to offer me a piece of comfort in your own home. The roses are lovely, and so are you, my dear child of man. You have my gratitude for this gift” And if you didn’t melt at those words, you sure did at the chaste kiss he placed on your cheek.

“I’m happy you like it, come one, let me give you a closer look!” And with cheeks matching the colour of the red roses, you took his hand in yours and walked towards your own little garden of bliss.

[tfwbluu]

what do u think riki’s kinks are

KINKS

pair: ni-ki & f!reader. warnings: dom riki mostly, it’s just descriptive with some lines here and there, we’re talking about kinks so there’s that wc: 0.8K

a/n: i don’t want to be repeating myself from my previous works so let’s do with the ones i haven’t done yet. it’s ok if yall don’t agree with me, these are just my personal opinions !

Toys. He’d love the idea of teasing you with them, maybe fucking a dildo into you or pressing a vibrator against your clit until you were trembling. And if he caught you using them while he was gone? Oh, he’d make sure to turn it into some sort of punishment.

“C’mon, angel,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing as he pressed the vibrator against your clit just enough to make you squirm. His other hand worked the dildo in and out of you at a slow, deliberate pace. “You were fucking yourself on this earlier, couldn’t even wait for me. So now, this is all you get.”

Bondage. He’d definitely be the type to tie you up, relishing the control it gave him. Whether it was your hands bound behind your back or stretched upright, or your legs tied open to keep you completely exposed, he didn’t care as long as you couldn’t stop him from doing exactly what he wanted. He loved the sight of you spread out, helpless to his every touch, unable to hide from the pleasure he gave or the punishment he delivered.

“You’re sensitive?” he’d murmur, a sly grin spreading across his face as he pounded into you relentlessly. “I never imagined you’d be this sensitive, but I love it.”

Size kink. Have you seen his build? He’d absolutely use it to his advantage. His massive hands would engulf yours, his broad frame could easily cover you completely, and no matter your height or build, he’d always make you feel small. Especially when it came to the size of his cock—he’d relish the way it stretched you, the slight bulge it created against your stomach, or how easily he could manhandle you into positions you never thought possible. Greedy and insatiable, he’d do whatever it took to have you just the way he wanted.

“You’re so tiny beneath me, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand drifted down, caressing the visible bulge in your stomach. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and teasing, “taking my cock so perfectly.”

“Too much?” he’d tease, thrusting in slowly, his grin widening. “But I’m not even fully in yet. Just wrap your legs around me, angel. I know you can take all of me. Wanna be a good girl for me, right?”

Dacryphilia. He probably didn’t even realize it until he saw you like this—your lips stretched around his cock, tears and drool spilling down your face as you took him deeper. The sight drove him wild, something about you spurring him on, sending a rush of heat straight through him. He’d wipe away your tears with his thumb, the motion surprisingly tender, even as his hips kept moving, his voice low and strained.

“F-Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” he’d groan, his head falling back for a moment before his eyes met yours again. “Feels so good, angel. You’re the only one who can make me feel like this, y’know?”

Choking. He loved using his big hands to grip your neck, especially when he was wearing rings. The cold metal pressing against your flushed skin made your head spin. His grip was firm, just enough to leave you breathless, or sometimes he’d use it to hold you up from behind.

Neck grabs, deep grunts, the desperate roll of his hips against yours. “You wanna cum, yeah? Then cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice heavy with need.

“Haa, tired already?” he mocked, his tongue clicking in feigned disapproval. “Tsk, tsk, tsk... always leaving me to do all the work.” His hand tightened around your neck as he pulled you up, continuing to thrust into you without missing a beat.

Missionary. He’d absolutely thrive on seeing the raw effect he had on you. With his cock buried deep inside you, he’d watch every flicker of pleasure on your face, loving the way your lips parted for soft moans or how your body twitches when he teased your sensitive nipples.

“Look at me, pretty,” he’d murmur, his voice deep and commanding. “I wanna see how good I make you feel.”

Eye contact would be non-negotiable. He needed to see the way your gaze melted with desire, and if you wanted to cum, you’d have to look right at him.

“You’re close?” he’d ask, smirking as he slowed to a torturous pace, drawing a whine from you. You begged him, finally locking your eyes with his.

If you didn’t? He’d slow down, torturously edging you, leaving you trembling, desperate, and on the brink of tears. Only when you finally obeyed, locking your eyes with his, would he give in, pounding into you relentlessly until you were completely undone.

“Eyes open, sweetheart,” he cooed, his thrusts picking up again. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Gonna cum for me now, mhm?”

[tvrknows]

(I'm obviously not a professional, but am a nerd and read a bunch of Plato's dialouges recently so I have detailed a reliable source lol)

You are totally right that the education model was a major part, as ancient Greek men wanted their children to be taught and also loved by the best - but it wasn't the point.

From my understanding, as a few dialouges mention, people totally could and would get teachers regardless: If you wanted to get better at a skill you would look for a skilled person and pay them to teach you.

On the other hand, a whole dialouge of Plato that I read recently is dedicated to Socrates explaining and showing a young man how he should court after a boy he lusts as an eromanos, since it is of the erastes' own interest (in the dialouge I read, specifically because the boy is "beautiful". Socrates automatically asks the young men who they adore for their beauty, implying that it was a necessery practice at this age?). It would've been the other way around if done for the purpose of mentoring.

Socrates lectures the man about how he shouldn't flatter the boy or praise him - because that would get in his head - but rather teach him his place and humble him.

doesn't sound like Apollo and Hyacinthus, right? They were way too in love for this kinda shit 👀❤️‍🩹

This is an interesting situation, because prior to that we hear that the man wrote songs about the boy, wouldn't stop talking about him and actively blushed when asked who he loves. This could be just a ceremonial act - but this could also be love, whatever kind.

Either way, a pederastic relationship manifesting between the two may have benefited the younger boy socially, but I don't know about emotionaly. The criteria to accepting the courtship wasn't being in love but just thinking the man is respectable enough (and in places like crete required the father's consent).

Pederasty included - not necesserally and not exclusively - many things such as mentoring, friendship, partnership and homoerotism (which was up to a hot debate even in this context, in certin places banned and considered as bad as incest), all under the umbrella of "love".

It was probably a way for some men who genuienly loved each other to get together - Theben law literally allowed for men to stay and live together past the traditional pederasty years - how cool is that!

Definitely way cooler than only allowing two men to be together as long as one of them is fifteen to seventeen and the other is twenty to thirty five. Cough cough.

But at the end of the day it was a common social practice with rules, done without much personal freedom just like ancient straight weddings. So not cool. I think that's it for me lol if I think of anything else I would try yapping to people irl otherwise this rabbithole would never come to an end~

Apollo/Hyacinthus and the god - mortal power imbalance (and how they have little to none of it)

A common argument against god/mortal relationships in Greek mythology is the uncomfortable power dynamic, that the god will always have a glaring power leverage over the mortal. Even if the god is fond of their lover, just one wrong move and still put the mortal in danger, intentionally or not. And I don't discard that.

Zeus and Poseidon's conquests didn't always consider the consent of the women they bedded. Aphrodite threatened her lover Anchises that if he were to reveal her as the mother of his son, he would be punished. Circe was fond of Odysseus, but their coupling was very coercive and Odysseus didn't feel safe around her; and if you're still adamant that Odysseus willingly became Calypso's bedmate, I will assume you're projecting your CNC fetish to the myth. Even Apollo, the god we'll be talking about, had intentionally or unintentionally had his lover Coronis killed in a fit of jealous rage.

And now we have Apollo and Hyacinthus, an Olympian god and a Spartan prince in a relationship with pederastic nature. Right off the bat, it's easy to call them problematic because of the age gap and power balance like the previous couples, and I've written a debunking post about the age gap allegation before. Now I want to talk a bit about the power imbalance between them.

While we didn't really know if all of Zeus and Poseidon's mortal love loved them back and knew for sure that Odysseus was terrified of the goddesses that held him captive, it was recorded that Hyacinthus was just as in love and openly chose Apollo:

Zeus himself told Eros that Hyacinthus was fond of Apollo.

Then why are Branchus and Hyacinth so fond of Apollo? (Dialogues of the Gods 6, Lucian)

Hyacinthus was also admired by Zephyrus, but he turned the god away for Apollo.

He [Zephyrus] had long been in love with Hyakinthos, though Hyakinthos would have nothing to say to him. (Dialogues of the Gods 16, Lucian)

Hyacinthus rejoiced at Apollo's sweet promises of love and companionship.

The son of Leto for love of the youth promises to give him all he possesses for permission to associate with him [...] The youth keeps his eyes steadfastly on the ground, and they are very thoughtful, for he rejoices at what he hears and tempers with modesty the confidence that is yet to come. (Imagines 14, Philostratus the Younger)

In the same scene in Philostratus' book, after giving the promises, it was also suggested that Apollo waited for Hyacinthus to answer. For all we know, Apollo could have just taken Hyacinthus away for his own pleasure, but no, he still gave him a choice.

Here is the god, painted as usual with unshorn locks; he lifts a radiant forehead above eyes that shine like rays of light, and with a sweet smile he encourages Hyakinthos, extending his right hand with the same purpose. (Imagines 14, Philostratus the Younger)

Remember the previous excerpt were Hyacinthus rejoiced at Apollo's promises? He was also filled with confidence when facing the god. Even though he's a powerful deity, Apollo didn't make Hyacinthus feel fear or inferior.

For comparison, this is how Hyacinthus behaved when he was with Apollo...

[Hyacinthus] stands there [...] and he supports his right hand on a spear, the hip being thrown forward and the right side exposed to view, and this bare arm permits us to describe what is visible [...] his neck is moderately erect [...] (Imagines 14, Philostratus the Younger)

Then, when the youth and Phoebus were well stripped, and gleaming with rich olive oil, they tried a friendly contest with the discus. [...] Heedless of danger Hyacinthus rushed for eager glory of the game, resolved to get the discus. (Metamorphoses 10, Ovid)

... and this is how Odysseus behaved when he was with Circe (quotes were taken from the Odysseus post)

[...] just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now… (The Odyssey 10, Homer)

[...] but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: "Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home [...]" (The Odyssey 10, Homer)

While Odysseus was frightful when approaching Circe and had to beg her for favors, Hyacinthus was seen to be very open when he was around Apollo. Although I don't know why Hyacinthus was depicted to be holding his spear when talking with Apollo, I don't think he was being defensive against him. I interpreted it as Hyacinthus feeling comfortable enough with Apollo that he didn't feel the need to discard his weapon and grovel at the god's presence, he can keep it as he like because Apollo wouldn't mind his attitude.

Aside from the mutual attraction and consent, Apollo also humbled himself for Hyacinthus and not minding in displaying acts of service even as a god (though to be fair, he took care and spoiled a lot of his lovers in the same way)

And the love my father had for you was deeper than he felt for others. Delphi center of the world, had no presiding guardian, while the God frequented the Eurotas and the land of Sparta, never fortified with walls. His zither and his bow no longer fill his eager mind and now without a thought of dignity, he carried nets and held the dogs in leash, and did not hesitate to go with Hyacinthus on the rough, steep mountain ridges; and by all of such associations, his love was increased. (Metamorphoses 10, Ovid)

Another addition I'd like to add is the fragments of a supposedly lost work that described Apollo placing his bow or lyre at Hyacinthus' feet as a suppliant, which you can check out its post here.

In conclusion, despite being a god/mortal couple with a pederastic relationship, the myths had shown that Apollo and Hyacinthus had insignificant power imbalance in their dynamic. There's no denying that they both loved and respected each other very much, trying to make things work despite the difference in nature between them. And now you understand why I'm so not normal about this OTP.

Thank you for reading, and you can go home now.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

A Christmas Carol, 2009

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word count: 2k

Notes: ✨And so comes the end of kinkmas✨ I am so freaking glad this is over in the way of I made this difficult on myself and it was funny. But also because I DONT HAVE MY PHONE ANYMORE so I’m not able to you know research things…..ain’t no way I’m googling certain things on this loaner phone

Carlisle watches you from across the room. You’re standing next to Bella, your face turned to the wall as you push your body into it, trying to stifle your giggles. She was supposed to be watching out for you, but instead of keeping an eye on your anxiety levels, she’d just decided to pump you full of champagne, eggnog, and whatever else was on those little trays floating around. 

He’s just about to come over when you turn around, your back against the wall, your cheeks flushed. You make direct eye contact with him, and if he had one his heart would be beating out of his chest. You narrow your eyes seductively, biting the edge of your lip and he looks at the floor, chuckling to himself before he starts to walk over, he barely makes it three steps before someone stops him to talk. 

Unfortunately, that was how it had been all night. You’d stayed by his side as long as you could, but eventually, he let you go to roam around and stop listening to all of his incredibly boring conversations. 

He’s talking to Dr. Teagarden when he feels your hands sliding around his sides and splaying across his torso. He puts his hands over yours as he continues talking, acting like you’re not even there. He feels you lay your head against his back and he smiles a little, rubbing the backs of your hands soothingly while he discusses god knows what because he certainly forgot as soon as you came over. 

Dr. Teagarden- John, is asking him about some blood compatibility when suddenly your hands start to creep up further, smoothing over the front of his expensive shirt and his broad chest. He smacks his hands over yours before you can squeeze his pecs and pulls your arm to bring you around front. 

“Hello Bambi,” He says, cupping your face, your skin is so hot against his cool hands and you lean into his touch, smiling at the pet name for a moment. 

“Hi” you purr seductively, Carlisle can tell from that look in your eye you’ve definitely had a bit too much. Edward passes by, his voice for Carlisle only. 

“At least she’s still standing” 

You put your chin against his chest, your arms going around his waist as you look up at him. Your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, it makes him smile a little, the way you cling to him innocently.

Or as innocently as you possibly can. He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves and it makes him shift a bit more against you.

“Can we go home?” 

Edward has taken John’s attention and now Carlisle’s is completely on you. He runs his hands over your hair, the coldness a welcoming touch to your heated skin. He leans down, kissing your neck softly and inhaling slowly. He feels you shudder underneath him and he smirks.

“Home huh?” 

“Before anyone else gets there” You whisper, standing on your toes and kissing his jaw. He pulls you away from him, keeping you at arm's length before picking you up, you squeal and he kisses your cheek. 

“Edward? Please let everyone know I’m taking Y/N home” 

The look on his face is priceless as he stares at you, staring at Carlisle. He gags a little and waves him off

“Yeah…okay. I’ll make sure I call you first when we’re on our way home” 

“That would probably be best.” 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” You say quietly as you trace the shell of his ear, you’d completely thrown all road safety out of the window as you climbed into his lap as soon as he started driving. He wraps his arm tightly around you, kissing your neck as he steers with one hand, your hands roam over his chest desperately, unbuttoning his shirt as you go. Your fingertips ghost over his hard chest and you squirm a little, rocking yourself on his hardening cock. 

“You keep that up and we’re not going to make it home” 

“Maybe I don’t want to make it home” 

“Y/N” He growls as he finally pulls away from your warmth, looking at the road “I’m not getting in that backseat with you” 

You frown and look away from him, your insides simmering to the point of boiling. 

“Fine, I’ll go by myself” 

“What? What does that-“ 

You pull up from his lap, climbing awkwardly over the seats and falling into the back he snickers at your little “I’m okay” and turns his attention back to the road.

“You know… we’re almost home anyway honey, and you should get into bed” 

You ignore him completely and lay across the backseat, pulling your dress up around your hips 

“I’ve had a lifetime of learning patience Y/N, I’m not going to break” 

“Sure I believe you, but you haven’t had a lifetime of me Carlisle Cullen” 

You wrangle off your thong, getting it caught in your heels for a second before tossing it into the front seat, he catches them and you grin as you hear him inhale.

“That was supposed to be a surprise…but I suppose not anymore” 

“You could have waited until we got home to surprise me” 

“You could have gotten in the backseat with me” you sass back as you spread your legs. Your fingers slip between your sticky folds so easily, you moan softly, teasing your clit with slow circles as your back arches off the seat.

“O-oh Carlisle” You whisper, pulling your legs up to your chest as you slide your fingers into your dripping hole. The noise is sinfully good as you curl your fingers upward, your thighs shaking as you whimper. 

“They don’t reach as far as yours do” You mumble, your lashes wet as you turn your head toward the front seat, making your voice as sugary and small as possible. 

“They don’t feel as cool and smooth as yours” 

The car comes to a sudden stop and you’re nearly flung off the seat. You squeal and hold your hands out as you hear the car door slam. Before you can even right yourself, Carlisle is doing it for you. He pulls your hip back and slams you into the seat.

“I thought you had patience!”

“You were right, I’ve never had you” 

“What if we get caught!?” 

He tosses your heels up front and you stop, staring at his smooth muscles as he pulls his jacket off and folds it up, putting it under your head.

“Look around” 

You sit up and look around as he takes his tie off and sets it over the back of the seat. You’re somewhere in the woods and you’re not sure when you got there or how you got there but you know no one will hear you. You start to giggle and he smirks, pulling you back down on the seat and helping you out of your dress.

“You were planning this weren’t you?” 

“Maybe” He grins as he takes your body in, soft and warm and plush, he feels his cock twitch as you bite the tip of your finger and open your legs for him, displaying your body to him. 

“I’ve been dreaming about you inside me all night,” You say breathily “Feeling your thick cock stretching me out” 

He takes his time, unbuckling his belt and rolling it carefully, watching the subtle tremors in your body. His eyes focus on the way your tight hole clenches around nothing with each flex of his arms. He unbuttons his pants and pulls them down slowly, revealing his rock-hard cock to you. You lick your lips as you stare at the tip, coated in precum. He strokes it a couple times, enjoying the way you’re practically drooling over him. 

“You look pretty when you're desperate, Bambi"

He presses his lips to yours, whether to kiss you as passionately as he is now or to shut you up, you don’t really care. His hands roam your curves possessively, there’s a certain measured carefulness in the way he does it, hundreds of years of learning his strength you suppose. 

His lips trail kisses down your blazing skin, his cool hands cupping your breasts. 

“You’re such a fucking tease” 

You giggle deliriously at his words, the way he growls them in your ear like he’s finally had enough of your sass. His hands grip you tighter, bruising your skin as he wraps his fingers around your hips and grinds into you. You gasp and smack your head against the seat, opening your legs more for him as you feel his cock sliding between your folds.

He listens to you whining and whimpering, rolling your hips against him and trying to get what you want but he doesn’t give in easily, holding you down in place.

“Now who needs to learn patience?” 

“Please?” you bat your eyelashes, wet with fake little tears as you look up at him.

“Please what?”

“Please Doctor Cullen” you purr, tilting your head at him and he groans, sinking his cock into you as far as he can. Your toes curl and you arch your back as he sets a bruising pace. The car rocks with the force of each thrust as you brace yourself against the seats, and the windows start to fog from your hot body. 

“C-Carlisle” You moan his name as he grabs your hips, lifting you up higher to slam into that spot that makes you see stars, your hand slaps against the window as he fucks you senseless. He’s not even breaking a sweat as he uses your body like a toy, moving you up and down his cock. 

“Is this what you wanted Bambi? You wanted me to ravage you? Destroy this perfect little pussy for anyone else? This isn’t very gentlemanly of me you know” 

Your head bounces as you try to nod along with his words, making little squeaking noises with each sharp thrust, you can already feel the harsh bruises in your skin.

He leans forward, his body pressing into yours as he kisses your neck, you feel his fangs drag across your arteries and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Oh… you like that? Don’t you? You think I can’t feel the way it excites you?” You feel his arm hook around your waist, keeping you in place on his cock as his hand comes up to wrap around your throat. 

“You like having your life in my hands don’t you?” He squeezes tightly and you immediately see stars, your pussy clenching around his cock tightly as he fucks you through your orgasm, he lets go enough just so you can gasp for air as he keeps pounding into you, filling you with his seed. He pushes into you fully, his cock grinding into your pussy as he leaves every last drop inside you. 

Your body shudders shaking in his arms as he turns you both, lying underneath you as you snuggle into his chest. He strokes your hair soothingly, whispering to you.

“You were such a good girl for me, taking everything I gave you” His fingers trail over the light bruises on your neck and he sighs. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away”

“Are you kidding me?” You mumble, kissing him softly “That was the best part” 

He smiles and cups your cheek, watching you lean into his touch 

“I don’t know, I think my favorite part was watching the way you fell apart when I fucked your cute little brains out” 

You blush and swat his chest as you lay your head back down, closing your eyes. 

You’re drifting off when you hear the phone ring. Carlisle fishes it from his pocket on the floor and answers it. You can hear Edward on the other side.

“Hey we’re on our way home” 

“That’s fine. We’re not there yet” 

“…..Okay, whatever that means” 

“It means you’re going to have to pick us up” 

“What why??” 

That wakes you up and you sit up curiously, looking around again. You couldn’t be out of gas? Carlisle had filled it before the party… maybe you had a flat-

Oh. 

The steering wheel is in pieces on the passenger seat. He did have patience.

But not when it came to you. 

[cozymochi]

With all this Nyoka talk, are you lowkey tired? I fear with all these Nyoka asks might become annoying to you. 💔 Or when there’s too many asks about a specific thing or person.

WAAAAA?? If anything, I have the exact opposite fear. Everyone else being annoyed by seeing him so much from me.

I bring it up and allude to it sporadically, but It’s not like I’m unaware that the majority of people would much much rather have me go back to posting art about the canon cast. It certainly has more mass appeal.

Though if anyone followed my bluesky or looked at my kofi they would see all the WIPs of that exact thing. But, that’s not my main, so it probably doesn’t count, does it? (I don’t really like posting WIPs on main.)

It’s a very VERY high privilege to be able to indulge in a non-canon character at all, more specifically at the behest of other people asking for it. Like, genuinely.

I never really bought the idea from a few people calling me “big” or “popular” given I never really talk to anybody off my own posts (sans IRL friend), and the only art that ever seems to truly pop off and cycle everywhere that I can see tends to only happen when when Malleus or Leona is in it (mainly the former, regardless of the quality im disatisfied with). In a way, I still don’t fully buy it.

Those two are already popular with built in fanbases, so that’s a given.

But then Nyoka dropped and he’s popping off to nearly their levels and I haven’t gone too long without somebody asking about him or his mouth

SO THAT’S A WAKE UP CALL.. Something that made me go “huh. maybe they were right about me…” or at least… Something happened with him specifically that clicked for whatever reason. I MEAN. MY TOP POSTS SPEAK FOR ME.

LOOOOK! He’s playing with the big boys??

One oF MY FRIENDS WROTE AN “X READER” FIC UNDER MY NOSE. AND IT DID WELL ouTside of our goofy asses. ThAT’S INSANEEE

Understand this though, while I do have the autonomy to not answer asks about him— If I was really tired of it, I wouldn’t keep answering. I answer so long as I receive them.

Cuz, Idk if anyone’s noticed, but I’m not the best at bringing up my own stuff on my own accord. If I do, there was a high chance I was pushed into it by somebody else, or I might have liked the art a little more than I should have to the point I think giving it it’s own post is justified.

I’ve always had Tia as my defacto Prefect, but she’s the Prefect. A character that can be anything and anybody (and almost everyone has one). And I never really brought her up willingly too much. I don’t even bother making her cameo in scenarios where she could be there. I just use Grim as a stand in. I don’t even post or talk about 80% of her junk out of nervousness and fear.

I AM GRATEFUL AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE ASKS I RECEIVE AND THE ENTHUSIASM 💖 I know I’m not the best at showing it since I haven’t ascribed to the keyboard smash + crazy image in a while, but i AMMMM. I go feral.

(ALSO bear in mind, I had Nyoka for almost two years before he ever went public. 😭👍 I think we’re good.)

…Still, with all that said: The self-inflicted-but-possibly-justified pressure still exists. With every new ask I answer about Nyoka or some other non-canon guy, I feel like the others who only really followed me for the more canon specific art are certainly getting annoyed watching it unfold and are just waiting for me to get back to it.

(Again, haven’t stopped. Bluesky/Kofi.)

I mean for example, I doubt it was intentional, but I got one reminder the other day when I was asked about updating a Leona WIP after that whole gacha pull bet thing.

That shows me somebody is waiting for something not Nyoka related. Though, given the nature of the material, they’ll probably be disappointed (its not even all that big). I took it in stride the other day but upon reflection it’s starting to gnaw at me. I only really posted the WIP to break up all the Nyoka stuff so people don’t get upset. Otherwise, I would have kept it under wraps properly.

So, I can only imagine what others are not saying.

And if I’m paranoid enough (which i am), it’ll only be a matter of time before somebody hits a wall and decides that enough is enough on my behalf. Hype backlash is a real thing, and while I don’t know when it’s coming, It’s inevitable. So, if anything I should slow down.

But then I get left in a position where I’m not posting any art at all.

Granted, not posting enough art and especially ones that are more generalized gnaws at me all the time regardless.

Getting Nyoka or other non-canon character stuff is honestly the most freedom I can get. There’s a lot less stakes involved, and I just have an easier time. I do genuinely like thinking about them!!! I LikE DRAWING THEM!! Again, being prompted by OTHERS IS especially a high privilege to be able to do.

Don’t get it twisted though (no pun intended), I also enjoy the canon cast and I put them above my own junk any day. Heck most are easier to draw than the non-canon freaks, but... Idk I do more self comparison to other artists more than people think, and it mostly comes down to me believing that I can’t draw them that well nor can convey anything high-concept or even LOW concept about them in an appealing enough way.

There’s just sooo many other artists to choose from. And better stuff at that. It’s also why I don’t fully believe people if they value me above other ones. With the stuff I put out, it doesn’t make any sense as to why that would be the case.

And while I am trying to compile a bunch of work *cough kofi/bluesky cough*, I get stumped really quickly while working on them. There’s a bar of quality I want, and with each characters built-in fanbases and stans it’s very taxing trying to not potentially let anyone down.

With Nyoka and the others no such bar exists. He and the others fall into a category that most people don’t put much stake in to begin with.

I think it’s a different beast when following an artist who sticks to drawing or writing about the same canon character all the time. There’s a niche for it and a built in audience who wants that, so nobody is going to get up in arms. (Well except maybe a bad apple who gets territorial about two cakes.)

As opposed to a non-specific artist/writer who suddenly posts an OC and for the next few weeks that’s seemingly all they post about, even if it is mostly from asks. There’s nothing backing that up. They came for cakes, why tf is this chef making stir fry?!

Yeah, some people may be cool with it since it keeps being asked for and I like making it. But, sooner or later someone is going to go “when are you go back to baking cakes? Wasnt this the whole point?”

TL;DR: NO, IM NOT TIRED OF HIM. I don’t exactly lose drive for my own little batch of chaos and I’m super thankful for it 💜💜💜💜💜 But I do have a very real fear of others getting annoyed by it.

Even this ask has me raising my eyebrow a little. I can’t imagine anyone being tired talking about their own stuff.

…But I can imagine the opposite.

And I know I get this reply constantly with “Oh just post what u want it’s your blog” I can only give a look that I can’t translate into text. 💃

[laddelulu30]

This is my first ever post. Be kind but be honest

Synopsis: Christmas themed, soft Sylus smut

Tags: small plot, female reader x Sylus (dragon daddy), poc reader implied, cunnilingus, vaginal creampie, foul language, soft(ish) smut

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: This original piece is for @hesprisms I tried to keep this as romantic as possible as my understand for soft smut. I hope you like it, pookie. I also have to formally apologize since I went way passed the closing date. Holidays got a little hectic for me. I did my best despite my... preferences. I hope I did you proud. This work for the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event by @nanamiscocksleeve

Dividers by:@jiyascepter; @adornedwithlight ; @cafekitsune

Sylus image by: IG: @botsandmod.ig

Twinkling Lights

It’s been 2 years since you moved in with Sylus in the N109 Zone. His place was massive, too much room for just two people, well four if you counted Keiran and Luke. But they often came and went. So they didn’t really count. An entire apartment complex bought out because Sylus liked his space and wanted to keep his treasure secure. Whatever that meant.

With a sigh and a shiver, the elevator dinged open. Your arms full groceries, I walk into the penthouse. Sylus comes walking down the steps.

“You know I could’ve just called to have them delivered” his deep voice smooths over my skin like silk. I shiver as I put the bags on the counter. And it’s not because of the cold weather outside. I’ll never get used to the way my body reacts to his voice.

“Baby, it’s fine. I Like going out and moving about,” you defend, taking everything out of the bags. Beginning to put them away. You’re so locked in to putting everything away that when you finish, his arms wrap around you. And it causes you to jump. “Oh!”

“Sweetie” his lips skitter along your neck as he inhales your scent, his voice almost drawing the word out, “Do you miss being a Hunter that much? If you need something to keep you occupied, you can pick up boxing or simply do physical training with me?”

You shiver again, and this time, he notices. He pulls away slightly to get a look at your face, concern itching his beautiful face.

“ Are you cold? You’re shivering,” he says.

“ No no I’m fine,” you defend, doing a double take at his appearance, “Baby, your hair. Your horns are out. What happened?”

He chuckles, “ I know my hair is longer than what you’re used to. I can cut--“

“ No!” you say quickly, swallowing before talking again, “It looks great. I like it”

He smirks, probably picking up how your heart sped up every time you looked at his ashen white hair that was now long enough to stop in the middle of his back. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Your horns. Did something happen?”

“No. it’s nothing to worry about. I promise,” he says, waving dismissively.

Your gaze Narrows but you don’t press.

“Are we putting up a Christmas tree?” you ask, hopeful.

“is that what you want to do?” he says, chuckling.

“ yes, I’d really like that. Even if we don’t have presents to put under the tree, I still want to put one up. You know with the whole tree topper and decoration and everything.”

He wraps his arms around your waist again, resting his face in the crevice of your neck. You do your best to keep your heart from galloping in your throat.

He chuckles, “ Alright, I’ll grab the decorations and we can decorate together, sound fun? ”

You nod, your stomach knotting.

He places a quick kiss on your forehead before disappearing back upstairs. You try to calm down your galloping heart, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

You lay your coat and scarf on the sofa, bending down to take off your shoes and place them by the front door.

You walked back to the bare Christmas tree. A peculiar white tree with red frosted tips.

Leave it up to Sylus to get something almost no one else has in their home.

Moments later, he comes walking down the stairs with two packing boxes.

You jump up to help.

“I’ve got it sweetie just stay by the tree” he says, softly his voice warm like milk and honey, gentle.

You stand by the unique tree, awkwardly. Patient. Waiting.

Anxious energy coils in your stomach again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie?” he frowns” setting the boxes down in front of the tree.

Hastily, you grab for one of the flaps of the boxes, opening it to start decorating the tree. Trying to find something else for your mind to focus on.

Several minutes, maybe hours of silence pass. As you and Silas decorate the tree you pick up a velvet red box.

One you hadn’t seen before.

“Um....Sylus”

“Open it,” he says gently, abandoning decorating the tree as you become his sole focus.

You open the box and a light, small, eliminates the most breathtaking ring you’ve ever seen, nestled in the foam. A black ring with three big rubies encrusted in the band, surrounded by many small emerald green gems.

You look up, eyes snapping to his face. Your heart sinks into your gut as he looks at you, hopeful.

But he’s observant and picks up the shift in your mood quickly.

“You.. don’t look happy,” he says quietly.

“N-no I am. It’s just..” you start trying to find the words as your stomach knots, and your throat feels like it’s closing up.

“What’s wrong?” he says gently.

“I don’t know.. how to tell you, if you’ll be excited... or if you’ll”

“Sweetie, just tell me” he urges gently.

“Well,” you swallow thickly “While I was out, I went to the clinic to do a quick test because I hadn’t been menstruated in 2 months. I was worried something was wrong. But they told me.... I’m pregnant”

Silas doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. The silence is deafening except for the crackling of fire in the fireplace.

He finally breathes “You’re pre-- we’re gonna have a baby?”

You nod.

“Do you want to have a baby? Because you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’ll be sad, but it’s your decision to make. Ultimately it will be your body that has the bare the consequences.. ”

You swallow “I want to have this baby with you. Do you want to..?”

“Sweetie, nothing would make me happier than you becoming my wife and the mother of my children,” his gaze darkens

“Children,”you squeak.

“Only if you’re open to the idea,” he takes the box out of your hand, taking out the ring and placing the box on the sofa.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,”you laugh nervously as he slides the ring on your ring finger.

He nips that finger with his sharpened teeth, causing you to let out a low hiss.

“Kitten, you didn’t answer my question?”

“What was the question?” you blink, momentarily stunned as a persistent fire licks at you from the inside.

“Will you marry me?” he chuckles, his voice deep and husky.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice breathy from your arousal.

“Well wife,” he says endearingly, pulling you into his arms bridal style “As much as I want to ravage you under the Christmas tree, that wouldn’t be good for your back. Nor for the baby. So let’s go upstairs and we can finish the decorations tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you whisper breathless.

“My lovely wife,” he grinned his Ruby eyes bright with happiness “I will savor you tonight, so try not to pass out on me.”

“What?” you squeak.

“My dragon could smell that you were with child. I simply wanted to wait until you were willing to tell me yourself.”

“So, I was nervous for no reason?”

“Not quite. Children are a big responsibility. I wouldn’t have faulted you, had you chosen to wait a little longer. I wanted you to tell me when you felt ready. I wasn’t expecting you to say it right after my proposal though,” he laughs, walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom with you carried in his arms like something precious.

“But I’m happy you told me. Your pheromones were driving me mad,” his voice deepened.

“You could smell that?”

“Darling, I could smell you getting aroused as soon as you saw my long hair and horns. I just didn’t say anything.”

“You jerk,” you laugh, mock hitting his shoulder.

He gets to your shared bedroom and lays you gently on the bed leaving the door open.

“The door. What if the twins--”

“They know better,” he says, his voice rough with desire.

Sylus peels off his shirt, kicking off his shoes and socks. He reaches or your oversized sweater and your hand clenches tightly down on it.

His eyes look to your face, brightening with understanding his gaze and voice soften, “Show me.”

Still hesitant, you hold on to the hem of the sweater, his grin widened and he removes your pants flinging them away without looking

“Kitten, you’ve gone weeks without letting me touch you. Smelling your arousal without letting me help. Driving me mad with desire. Please don’t deny me this. I want to see you. To taste you. Claim you,” he runs his nose against your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin, making you whimper softly. He begs in a soft voice “Please.”

Relenting, your fingers let go of the sweater and he pulls the sweater over your head, your breasts bounce free. They’re in a larger size bra than they were before and a small baby bump is seen.

“Is this why you wouldn’t shower with me? Wouldn’t share the bed with me?” he plants fervent kisses along the underside of your belly, rubbing the pads of his thumbs softly along your pebbling nipples.

“Yes, “ you whisper, your breath hitching.

“You are beautiful, kitten. There’s no reason for you to be nervous to show me your body. Our baby is growing inside your body, understand?” he says gently, licking and nibbling back down to your inner thigh.

He lifts your legs by the underside of your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. He dives his face between your thighs, rubbing his nose along the damp material of your panties.

“Wait, Sylus--” you pant in protest, but his lips close over your panty-clad core.

You yelp in surprise, your hands flying to his hair as the other hand braces against the bed.

“Fuck. You smell divine, “ he growls, humming after coming up for air, “You taste even better. ”

“Sylus!” you gasp, fire spreading in your veins.

“Sorry, kitten, you deprived me. Starved me of eating this pussy. I’m hungry, and nothing is going to stop me from feasting on you,” a growl rumbles in his chest as he hooks his teeth on your panties and slides them down your legs before diving back to your weeping core.

Lapping at you hungrily like a starved man savoring his last meal.

A string of cusswords rip from your throat as he feasts. Teeth and tongue alternate between which one skates across your folds and your electrified bundle of nerves.

“Sylus, please,” you beg, a climax cresting quickly.

“No need to beg, kitten. I’ve got you,” he pants, doubling his efforts.

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be. I’m simply reminding you how much you mean to me and how much I’ll always adore you no matter how much your body changes.”

You explode on his tongue, and he doesn’t change his nor his tempo, dragging you roughly through your climax.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you’ve climaxed three more times since the first one.

“Sylus...” your voice is hoarse from screaming your release, but it doesn’t seem like he plans to stop anytime soon.

“I’ve got you, kitten. One more,” he says, sucking on your swollen and oversensitive nub as he slowly sinks one finger into your pulsing heat.

“I can’t,” you weep, your thighs shaking from the strain.

“Yes, you can,” he coos encouragingly.

Pulling his fiendishly talented tongue away, he curls that one digit over the spot that makes you squeal. Your world shatters, stars dying behind your eyes, blinding.

“See? You did so good,” he says, slowly pulling his finger from your quivering heat.

You pant, trying to catch your breath. He grasps one of your ankles, kissing and nipping at it adoringly.

He stands, grinning wickedly, whispering, “We’re done yet.”

He carefully, gently, changes your body’s position. On your hands and knees. He rubs your skin, spreading you open.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he groans low, appreciatively, rubbing his hot and hard length through your soaking wet folds.

“Sylus, please..... I’m tired,” you beg weakly.

“I know, sweetie,” he croons, “One more, then I’ll make sure you’re pampered in the bath like the queen you are, okay?” he says.

He doesn’t give you a chance to voice your opinion before he pushes fully into you, seated deeply to the hilt. You scream.

“Already? Wait for me, kitten, ” he smirks, then starts moving.

A determined and purposeful pace. He thrusts deep, desparately chasing his own release through pounding through your squishy walls.

More string of curses from you.

“Just a little longer, kitten,” he encourages, his voice strained, “Ahh, fuck, you feel so good for me, so soft and hot.”

With one more deep and determined plunge, he cums with a groan string of curses and prayers, his hips jerking weakly as he shoots rope after rope of it, his cum coating your walls. His muscles twitch and flinch.

After catching his breath, he slowly pulls out, your body releasing him with a wet and sloppy pop.

“You did so well, kitten,” he says, kissing the back of your head before going to the bathroom to run you a bubble bath.

When the water is done, he comes back to retrieve you. He picks you up and gently places you into the water.

“Is the temp okay?” he says sweetly, his gaze watching for any twitch or frown you may make.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hoarsely.

“Did I hurt you?” he says softly.

“No, you did go a bit overboard but I can’t really complain because it felt really good. I know I’ll be a little sore afterwards though,” you blink, smiling sleepily.

“I’ll make you some hot cocoa, sound good?” he offers.

You nod.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he disappears downstairs to make your drink. He returns a short time later with your hot cocoa in a ceramic mug of a snow man wearing a scarf and mittens with two giant marshmallows floating in the chocolate goodness.

“Here ya go, sweetie,” he hands you the mug.

“Thanks, baby,” you say, taking the mug and taking a sip, “You always make the best hot cocoa.”

He smiles and waits for you to take a few more sips before he takes the mug and then leave the bathroom to sit the mug on the nightstand next to the bed.

You start to protest.

“You’ll get more after I pamper you,” he says, and starts to bathe you with all your favorite smell goods like body wash, body scrub and water safe body oils that you use.

After letting you soak for a while, he let’s the water out and rubs oils and lotions into your skin, pat drying your skin before helping you get into your lavender satin pajamas.

He picks you up and puts you against the pillows, pulling the cover back and tucking you in.

He hands the cocoa back to you, “I’ll take a shower and when I come back, we can snuggle and watch a movie, okay?”

He kisses your forehead and you nod, smiling dreamily.

You drink your cocoa, waiting for him to return, but you fall asleep. The empty mug resting on the small baby bump.

Sylus returns from his shower and smiles at the sight of you.

“Rest well... my wife,” he says, whispering warmly before taking the mug into the kitchen and starting the dishwasher.

He quickly returns to the bedroom, getting into bed with you, nuzzling between your legs so his face rests against your belly. Rubbing circles on the small bump, lovingly.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one. Try not to stress your mom out too much. She’s a sweat heart and will be a very important person to us both,” he whispers into your skin before gently moving so that he cocoons behind your sleeping body, wrapping his arm firmly around you and pulling you up against him.

His chest presses against your back as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck as you both sleep, relaxed and spent, deep in bliss.

~The End~

copyright: original written by @laddelulu30 this is my only account. If you see my work anywhere else, please let me know. Otherwise, if you made it to the end, leave a like and a comment.

[shin-kenooubu]

First Date

featuring - Chuuya Nakahara & Dazai Osamu

[sfw . third person limited if anyone cares]

a/n : this was inspired by a conversation between me and the other admin where we both agreed that Dazai would be the type to say i love you on a first date. I also didn’t actually think I’d try to write something substantial so bear with me if it’s not too good.

—

First dates aren’t really all that bad. You meet a cute girl, get to know her for a bit and you fall out because you don’t tell her where you’ve been going late at night. Thats just how it is.

As Chuuya looked at his partner for the night he couldn’t help but wonder how he got in this situation in the first place. He switched his attention to his cup of tea while letting his date blab about life. Was it him who proposed this date? Yes. Had he been thinking about it for a good long while? Yes. Did he ever think he would actually be sitting in a dainty cafe with this particular person? Well… no. Who would think that Osamu Dazai would say yes to a date with a guy who hates him? Though he supposes it could be some twisted self hatred game that he somehow managed to manipulate Chuuya into being a part of.

Whatever the case he was here now, and seriously doubting his choice of location. It was a cute cafe, usually a favorite of the girls he’s taken out before but was it the best decision to take a man here? He looked up from his cup to see his date still happily blabbing away about how boring work can be and his favorite juniors.

he seems to be happy enough.

“Chuuya I get not many girls ask you out but you should really listen to your date when they’re talking”

“Oh shut up. I was listening, you were talking about your junior atsushi. You talk about him way too much, it makes me sick. Now let’s go.” He stands up while his partner attempts to rationalize his ramblings about that particular junior. It’s weirdly sweet seeing Dazai act similar to a doting mother when talking about him. So sweet it makes him want to vomit. That feeling was one Chuuya was all too familiar with as it was constant from the minute he first met Dazai. Lately he’s been questioning whether it’s a natural feeling of hatred, or something more complex. He took a moment to take a deep breath of air as he walked out of the cafe, the air was somehow always fresher at night. “Where are we going now?”

“On a romantic walk. Obviously.” Girls liked this kind of thing. He figured he could basically treat dazai as if he were a tall girl from his reaction at the cafe. “It’s hardly romantic. How did you ever get girls to keep dating you?” He didn’t. If he could he would probably be married by now. “What? Do you want me to hold your hand? Tell you how beautiful you look? It’s hard to be romantic when I remember its you im out with. How am I supposed to know what an enigma like you wants?” There was a beat of silence before Dazai stopped walking and turned to face away from Chuuya, crossing his arms in the process.

What the hell is he doing?

“Hey.” He doesn’t turn. “Oh come on, dont do that.” No response again. He tries to walk over to where Dazai is facing only for him to continue turning so he cant see his face. “Stop.” He holds on to Dazai’s shoulders to stop him from turning, in retaliation Dazai turns his head towards the sky and closes his eyes, arms still crossed tightly, completely rejecting Chuuya’s attempts at communication. “You’re being ridiculous.” Still no movement. “Fine.” Chuuya struggles to uncross Dazai’s arms and pries his fingers apart to interlock them with his own. “Happy?” Dazai’s response comes in the form of leaving the hand that Chuuya is trying to hold fully flexed, not attempting to reciprocate the gesture in the slightest. He’s a lot more like a girl than Chuuya originally thought. So what would make a girl forgive him?

He sighed before bracing himself for what he was about to do. “Hey, don’t be like that” He softened his voice as much as he could using his free hand to reach for Dazai’s face and guide it to look down at him. “You got what you wanted didn’t you?” He caressed his cheek with his thumb and played with his hair until he felt his hand relax and reciprocate the hold Chuuya had on it. Dazai’s face remained contorted in contempt “You’re the absolute worst.” He gripped Chuuyas hand hard and continued walking. “I’ll take your death grip as a sign of you forgiving me.” He could tell that Dazai was having a hard time staying mad at him though his face was still twisted in anger. “Oh whatever.” Dazai’s face returned to its neutral state though he didn’t bother loosening his grip. Their walk continued comfortably and silently, making Chuuyas mind drift to his question at the very start of their date. What was he doing here? The question seemed to evolve the longer he was on this date. Just how exactly did he feel about Dazai? He’s never thought that he felt anything but hatred for him, but suddenly the word feels too simple and un nuanced to properly describe how he feels after so many years together.

And that’s when Dazai says the single worst thing a person could ever say on a first date. “I love you.” Oh my god. “What?” Chuuya instinctively tried to let go of Dazai’s hand but his grip remained tight not letting Chuuya break contact. “What do you mean what? I love you.” Dazai looked at Chuuya with a confused expression as if what he was saying was something obvious that they were both aware of. “Do you not love me??“ Chuuya didn’t know how to respod. “I never said that.” It’s not like he didn’t feel the same, it was a crude confession lacking buildup and preparation for what was supposed to be a crucial moment in their budding relationship. It left him speechless.“Well?” Dazai leaned in closer to hear what Chuuya had to say looking almost anxious to hear his answer, as if he doubted his previous assessment on how Chuuya felt about him. “Okay I love you. But you can’t be doing this.” He pushed Dazai’s face away from his to discourage him from doing something crazier. “Can’t be doing what?” It’s like talking to a wall. “Nothing,” Chuuya sighed “let me walk you home.” There’s no use trying to teach him date etiquette. It’s not like he’ll be having another first date now anyway.

—

[wings-of-ink]

Helping that anon also i saw this on another blog....🤭😅 (NSFW Question) How would the RO’s act in a situation involving an aphrodisiac? Say the Mc accidentally ate something that makes them extremely uncomfortable until they have sex, though the effects aren’t permanent or life-threatening. Would any of the RO’s be willing to help them out? Deep crushing but pre-relationship :3

You don't have to do all of them. But I choose Oswin 🤭 and Duri. If you wanna do a third you can choose.

Oh myyyy...I'll do them all since this is just a special little kinky celebration, lol. They're pretty quick answers too. Going to add a disclaimer that whatever this substance is doesn't change MC's ability to choose, of course.

Oswin: Would be incredibly tempted, the closer he is to the MC the harder it is to say no. But ultimately, he would not feel right unless they already had an established relationship.

Zahn: They're happy to help as long as MC is in their right mind to consent. They're excited for the chance to show MC all the fun things they can do.

Duri: Before MC gets their request out, they are already undressing. Offers to also take whatever aphrodisiac it was, lol.

Rune: This depends. If just crushing, Rune would offer relief via magic that can cancel the effects of the aphrodisiac. If we're talking about a pretty deep relationship already, beyond just a crush and pretty close to a committed relationship, they'd be more willing to provide relief in other ways for MC. It would be up to MC as to how. They'd prefer just hands or oral though if that could provide enough satisfaction.

???: This doesn't really sit well with him and he could probably find a solution to rid the substance from MC's system. He's clever enough, he could maybe fashion a toy for MC to use too if they wanted.

[bubblegum-blackwood]

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

Ah good question. I feel like that's a complicated one that's not so straightforward to answer.

TL;DR - idk I like it :] and I like people

I've been writing fiction since I was nine years old. My teacher had us do some creative writing in class, and I fell head over fucking heels for the concept! It's crazy to see how much I've grown since then 😂 but I kid you not, I've known I wanted to write for a living since I was nine years old. I did it once and was like yeah . . . I like this. Funnily enough, I started out writing fanfiction, although at the time I hadn't heard of that word or that concept. My sibling and I had a game we called "Kid Wars" - essentially, we RPed being Star Wars OCs. My character was a female clone of Jango Fett (how did I come up with that as a small child and then The Bad Batch happened????????? will never get over that) who secretly joined the Jedi Order and fell in love with Obi-Wan 😂😂😂 ah, children. This origin story is never not funny to me. Anyway, over the years since then, it's slowly evolved into something nearly indistinguishable from Star Wars (I've mostly just kept something that vaguely looks like the Force and some OC names and arcs, but the worldbuilding is entirely original, and I had so much fun with it!)

But I digress.

It's ironic to me because even though my writing days largely started with terrible self-insert fanfiction I since then only wrote original works and even railed almost as vehemently against fanfiction as Anne Rice herself! 😂 But I spent some time on Tumblr and I caved and read Burden of my Days by @hekateinhell and have never been the same since. And now I have 36 fics and counting!

What originally drew me to writing as a kid is just the whole idea of making shit up. I've been making up silly lil stories in my head to keep my insomniac ass busy at night since I was in kindergarten, and when I realised I could write them down? When I realised I could get paid money for that shit??? Hell yeah! I can make a career out of doing something I genuinely love doing, and I'm so grateful that it's even an option for me because I have no clue what I would have told people I wanted to be when I grew up otherwise. As I've gotten older, I've understood more about what exactly I enjoy about writing (which allows me to take inspiration from the books and shows I like without copy-pasting every minute detail that I don't actually need) - it's people. I like people, I like knowing what makes them tick, I like watching them fuck up and I like watching them interact with others. It's part of what draws me to psychology and sociology, too. I just genuinely enjoy stories. I could eat a well-done character arc for breakfast, honestly. And that's what gets me about the writing. My books don't need big grand plots, the conflicts largely are not centered around big bads with large armies, it's all about people and the relationships they have with others within the narrative. (Don't get me wrong, though, I have fantastical elements - vampires and ghosts, especially, are quite abundant in my stories).

Plus, there's something about the actual process of writing that just gets me in a good mood. Sometimes the executive dysfunction or general life fatigue makes it hard for me to get myself to pick up the pencil, but when I feel motivated, DAMN, the juices be flowing! Sometimes I get in the zone and I just know what happens next and the words just come to me and it feels good, honestly good. I can agonize over it for hours sometimes, but crafting artful sentences to paint a picture with words is such a powerful feeling. I just can't imagine how my life would have turned out had I not discovered how fun it is to write.

And with fanfiction? To me, it's all about connection. To look deeper at the text, to identify what you like about events or characters or pairings and make it your own, to really know the book you love so much. But not only that, then also you get to connect with other fans! You get to get excited together, be proud together, maybe even make friends through it! You get to talk to people!!! And I think the value of that can never be understated enough.

Anyway. I've rambled plently now 😂 thanks for the ask!

[aleximustpl4y]

My Chemical Romance – I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love: album review

Year: 2002

Label: Eyeball Records

Genre: Post-hardcore, emo, punk-rock, pop-punk

Members: Gerard Way (vocals), Ray Toro (guitar), Mikey Way (bass guitar), Matt Pelissier (drums), Frank Iero (additional guitars)

Producer: Geoff Rickly

Listen to it here: [x]

Join me in this beautiful journey of cathartic destruction where two lovers are doomed to meet and die in every lifetime.

You must keep your soul...

History

I don't think American rock band My Chemical Romance need any introduction, but for the sake of the review, I have to start from the beginning.

Hailing from New Jersey, the band was founded by Gerard Way in September 2001 after he witnessed the Twin Towers attack on his way to work. They are considered one of the most influential rock groups of the 2000s and a major act in the pop-punk and emo genres, despite the band rejecting the latter label. The name of the band was suggested by Mikey, Gerard's younger brother, who was working in a Barnes & Noble when he was struck by the title of a book by Irvine Welsh named Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance.

I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (Bullets for short) is their debut album, produced by Thursday vocalist Geoff Rickly. Despite being sold under the alternative rock genres, it is considered an emo album with strong influences from punk rock, hardcore punk and heavy metal.

The graphic impact

The album cover, as well as the disc, features Harry Houdini hanging upside down in a straitjacket. Gerard Way has stated that it is not a digital image, but was in fact made with some watercolor, some borax, some plastic wrap, and a color photocopier in the Eyeball Records offices.

Why put Houdini on the cover? All references to Houdini in the following albums aside, it's clear that Gerard admired the magician and saw in one of his most famous tricks – escaping from a straitjacket while dangling from a crane – a possible analogy for life: you can spend a whole lot of time in your life ‘escaping’ death, but it will still come eventually.

Autumn color palette, play of light and handmade special effects: aesthetically speaking, the album cover is very interesting to look at.

The tunes

Bullets starts off with Romance, an acoustic cover of an instrumental piece known as “Romance Anónimo,” “Romance d'Amour,” or “Spanish Romance,” composed by an unknown nineteenth-century musician. The sweet and melancholic melody lulls you into a (false) sense of security.

Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us kicks off with a tits-blowing metal-core guitar riff, hitting you hard and fast, setting the real tone for the entire album. A very young Gerard yells the frustrated lyrics about a toxic relationship which, given the title's theme of the mirror, may be with an ex as well as drugs and/or alcohol. The chorus is an anthem for those who are sick and tired of their partner's (or the personification of drug abuse) manipulation tactics, and the way Gerard screams his lungs out makes it cathartic for those who haven't any words left in them anymore.

“This song is about sucking dick for cocaine.” – Gerard Way introducing the song in concert

Vampires Will Never Hurt You catapults you into another dimension, a darker, more eerie one, brought mostly by the intriguing bass line and the backwards whispering in the intro. The lyrics are the last rational, yet desperate, words of a man who's about to transform into a vampire against his will, and begs his lover to “put a spike in [his] heart” as soon as the sun goes down and to go hide before they'll get her too.

Drowning Lessons starts off with a bittersweet riff, introducing us to probably the saddest story told in the album. Drowning Lessons talks about a man who killed his spouse. My personal interpretation (I don't know if someone else had this idea before me) is that he killed himself shortly after and this is his otherworldly punishment: reliving this day over and over for eternity, perpetuating the cycle of insanity and guilt. The ending leaves you with a feeling of waiting and suspension, the fade-out suggests that the narrator is stuck in this loop and it will be like this forever.

In the fast paced Our Lady of Sorrows Gerard encourages his interlocutor to strip away their insecurities and live freely, to trust and believe in him so that they may be saved. The song is painted with religious imagery (hence the title), and implies that the narrator and the person he's speaking with are constantly at each other's throats: letting go of their doubts is the only way to end this before they murder each other. Gerard is angry, almost arrogant, but it's an arrogance driven by desperation since he doesn't want to lose his friend/lover over their insecurities, inviting and insisting that they “take [his] fucking hand and never be afraid again”.

Musically speaking, Headfirst for Halos is a sucker punch in the teeth, and yes, that is a compliment. The guitar is very Iron Maiden-esque, especially in the intro, and on a technical level, this song proves that these guys know what they're doing. The lyrics' grim undertones go in complete contrast with the upbeat tone of the music, turning it into a suicidal anthem. Despite the fact that it discusses how the narrator is stuffing himself with psychotropic drugs that make him numb to any kind of feeling, as well as his struggle against the idea of killing himself in this spiral of madness, Headfirst for Halos could be considered a powerful message of hope. This song, in my opinion, is not only about someone who succumbs to a psychotic episode, but it's also a way for the lyricist to remind us not to give up, not to do what the song proposes. Its end, where the protagonist probably commits suicide while repeating himself to “think happy thoughts”, is cathartic and destructive, truly beautiful in its tragedy.

"This song is about suicide - don't do it." – Gerard Way

I don't think I'll ever be ready to talk about Skylines and Turnstiles, but I'll try to give it justice. The track, the first one that was recorded while making the album, is a moving tribute to the victims of 9/11. It describes both the last moments of those people's lives and the experience, the feelings that Gerard had while witnessing it. The previous track's message of hope is reinforced in Skylines: when Gerard witnessed the tragedy, he knew he had to do something in hope to help people go through their grief and sadness and make the world a brighter place, giving them a reason to keep fighting. The song starts with “You're not in this alone”: Gerard is offering friendship for those who were hurt or scarred from 9/11, and it could also work in a broader sense, where he reaches his hand out to those who are feeling like this life isn't worth living anymore.

Inspired by Dawn of the Dead, Early Sunsets over Monroeville begins with a sweet and romantic melody, painting a dream-like picture of two lovers living a perfect life, “just like upon the screen”. The song, after that, takes a left turn that gives me shivers to this day just like the first time I heard it. The lyrics are a desperate call for help from the man who has to kill his lover, because she has been bitten by a zombie and is turning into one. He doesn't have the heart to shoot her, but on the other hand, it would be a mercy killing. The whole theme of the zombies could also be a metaphor for the couple's relationship that has gone awry, so the narrator has to “shoot” and hurt her by telling her that there's no love anymore between them. Gerard's voice, in the early stages of the song, is filled with nostalgia and melancholy, making the second part even more striking and emotional to listen to. His cries become more and more insistent, in a crescendo of desperation, and the fact that he repeats the same lines over and over only accentuates the interior dilemma he's having, while the melody becomes more and more fast-paced as well. The last line hangs in the air, which, again, marks the horror of the whole situation, leaving you in a state of suspended turmoil.

This is the Best Day Ever tells a story of a couple who meet in the emergency room, likely after they both attempted suicide, and they plan to escape the hospital together. It doesn't matter to them if they'll die after: they'll be free either way by doing it. What stands out the most is the upbeat and fast-paced melody, which accentuates the anticipation of the protagonists and their hope to get out of the situation they're in.

Cubicles tells a story of a shy and lonely office worker who falls in love with a woman who works two cubicles away from him but doesn't even realize he exists. He spends the time writing her love notes, but never gains the courage to give her the letters, let alone talk to her, until she quits her job and he misses his chance. From that point, he spirals into madness and is terrified he'll die alone, as portrayed by the repetition of the verse “sometimes I think I'll die alone”, which changes into just “I think I'd love to die alone” at the very end, coming to terms with his suicidal thoughts.

I think there's no better way to end this album, other than with Demolition Lovers. The song starts with a slow, sweet yet dark melody, while Gerard begins singing the beautiful, tragic story about a Bonnie and Clyde-esque couple, who run in the desert and eventually get shot by the people they were escaping from. As the music grows more intense, the man tells us how he isn't afraid to die for his lover and he is willing to prove how much she means to him despite their relationship being flawed. They die in a pool of blood, when they kiss for the last time. Demolition Lovers is masterfully made, with one of the most beautiful solos I've ever heard and with lyrics that are an arrow to the heart, not only for the passion they're sang with, but also for the meaning they carry. The ending is simply breathtaking.

Conclusion

Words can't even describe how much this album means to me. The themes, the arrangements, the messages of hope derived from destruction and tragedy, the whole meaning of the band itself... it's just beautiful. The genre is not cohesive but since it's their first artistic effort, it makes sense that they had yet to find their own style: after all, creation is just experimentation. But despite Bullets not being coherent in style, the atmosphere remains consistent thanks to the lyrics that have all the same feeling of catharsis in romantic destruction. I just wish that some songs were mixed better (but if anything that adds to their charm) and that it would last longer. Also it's worth mentioning how all the songs are connected without being connected at all (just how they are connected to their next album, which we'll check out next time), which makes me love the mind behind them even more, if possible.

Final, very personal and unprofessional score: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

...like a secret in your throat.