#it’s a crazy ship though

[aurora-van-van-vana]

you ever just. make art your not okay with? like, sure that’s cool bro but also man, maybe I should just not try something new today. i’m good at the other stuff. i will try more later. but for now, maybe don’t. guys don’t draw poland—

[zarnzarn]

The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

[nenehyuuchiha]

FOR REAL

[glitteringdepths]

cant believe ive never drawn xiaolumi before... who am i

[namtanlovesfilm]

#guess we'll never know jane's age

[nibeul]

jjk rlly pissed me off enough to get me back into bnha.

[clownscasino]

hold on i think i'm cooking:

clown is the Deadliest Player in Minecraft. that's how we start off. however, clown teams up with branzy, the worst pvper on lifesteal (sorry branzy) since branzy has skills that clown doesn't, namely engineering redstone. they get to know each other! branzy's creative and talented, he's nice to clown even when he doesn't have a scythe to his throat.

he's also weak. branzy's a 2 hearter, easy pickings, a jumpy performer who has no choice but to run if things go wrong... but, god damn it, now clown cares about him.

so clown continues to back him up even though branzy's painfully helpless outside his charms and tricks, because to clown, branzy is amazing. he's friendly, demented, passionate, funny... and flirty... branzy gladly pulls his weight with endless farms and ingenious entertainment. he's creative, and smart. the deadliest player winds up entangled with, best friends with, even married to, the number one most defenseless player on the server. clown consistently chooses to stand by him and defend him, even to his own detriment. he accepts branzy as his weak spot if it means that branzy will stay.

yet branzy is still kidnapped, murdered, and otherwise tormented whenever it suits the people stronger than him. sure, branzy's entertaining, but at the end of the day it's kill or be killed on lifesteal. if a stronger player wants something from branzy, well, anyone would hardly hesitate to brute force it out of him.

months later, branzy's mia. clown wants the mace... and the person who has it, is one of the weakest members of lifesteal.

see, squiddo's... not a fighter. they're an artist, eccentric and bright. squiddo only survived s5 through her wits and her friendships, through tricks and good luck. the reason they're pulling this whole peace trials charade in the first place is bc they kept being hunted down and slaughtered by the people who wanted the mace. the fact is, that squiddo is weak. they're funny and clever, but they're only alive because they have a team behind them and a role to play: entertaining the crowd of ravenous players surrounding them.

clown even spent a whole day befriending squiddo. it was actually a pretty good time, despite it being for one of the trials. how could it not be? squiddo is fun. they're creative, and smart.

for the last test, squiddo asks clown to kill her

and in the end, clown refused.

(...well, for like a day or two)

[captaincanonly]

none of these make sense. send help. i’ve gone woke…..

[jugganautism]

Have you heard of Antinous x Calypso 👀?

indeed i have my dearest anon, a friend of mine made the ship and i was one of the first people to hop on that train 😭‼️

[evermorepeyton]

64 quotes and maaaany comments acting like this person actually murdered someone or something pls

[jade-of-mourning]

combine their vocabularies and together they could say a lot of superfluous things!

[waterghostype]

i have so much to say about them not in a good way not in a bad way but a secret third thing way.

[s1lv3rp4w3dc4t]

shout out object shows with canon queer ships. I'm talking on screen kiss or even just verbal confirmation. all things considered it's a bit strange you don't really see them that much when you think about how gay everyone here is. I love you ii but c2bc did what you didn't and I think that's actually really nice.

[makeucrawl]

can u do a short where Dr. Easterman punishes coyle for messing and breaking his office? Pls nsfw pls plsnksjakahks also bdsm and spankings plsss 🙏🙏 (what am I doing with my life. 😭)

((Teehee 🤭))

“BAD DOG”

Nothing could have prepared Easterman for his return to his office. It was usually in perfect shape, but now it looked as if a storm had swept through it. Books and files were strewn around the floor, and when he attempted to pick up some of them, he noticed dirty boot prints on the ground. Prints that he followed all the way behind his desk where the suspect was still lying on the ground, smoking his cigarettes and reading his journal.

"Boy, ya sure do complain a lot!" Coyle laughs, turning his gaze away from the journal to Easterman. Those dark, melancholy eyes were staring right at him. "OOOOooo how scary.." Coyle taunts while throwing the journal aside.

"Why did you ruin my office?" The doctor glares at him while his fists curl and uncurl at the thought of strangling the police officer.

“Why’re you upset? I know ya can just git someone to clean it up."

“God da-..Leland, that isn't the point. I've told you to before to quit tampering with my belongings…Sometimes you behave like a child.” Coyle sticks his tongue out and uses his foot to poke the doctor’s leg. “There ya go. Complainin’ like some woman!” He laughs then shouts in surprise as Easterman grabs his ankle and pulls him forward.

After turning the man over onto his stomach, Easterman ties Coyle's hands behind his back with his tie. "Just what in the hell do ya think yer doin?!” As the police officer shouts, the doctor grabs his dark graying hair and pulls him up. Then, using a firm hold, he drags him over his spread knees and placing him over his lap.

“Since you want to act like a brat..I’m going to beat you like one." Pulling Coyle's jeans down to his thighs, he says. “You’ll refer to me as sir and you’re going to count each blow.”

“Ya gotta be fuckin’ jokin’! Let me up-AH!” When Easterman's palm lands hard and heavy against Coyle's right cheek with a loud clap, causing the man to cry out in surprise.

“Can you count, Sergeant? I can’t hear you.”

“I-I’m not going to-“

SLAP

Coyle grunts his body jolting forward slightly from the blow. He was surprised at how hard the other man could hit.

“T-Two…sir..” Leland said breathlessly. The pain was hot and burning, but there was a pleasure in it too, and when the third blow came down, Coyle groaned,

“Three…three,sir..”

By the tenth, he felt as though his ass was burning red and bright, and there was a burning heat in more than his ass. His stomach felt tight, tight with tension, and his whole body was hot, his cock rubbing up against Hendrick’s thigh whenever his hand landed down

By the twentieth, the pain had on one hand subsided some, and on another was furthering with every strike, the skin burning so much it felt like it would peel, and yet there was such a pleasure in it that Coyle almost felt he could cry. He was digging his nails into his palms now as he whimpered, “T-Twenty-two, sir.”

“I hope you recall that this is a punishment, Leland,” said Easterman, landing a firm blow on the back of his thigh, just under the curve of his left cheek, and Coyle yelped like a kicked dog, gritting his teeth and trying to swallow the sound back.

“Yes! T-twenty-three, sir!”

“Someone might come in if they hear you being so loud.” Purred Easterman pleasantly, and his hand clapped down again, pushing the air out of Leland’s lungs and making his cock jump like a soldier told to stand to attention.

Coyle shuddered. “Twenty-four..s-sir,” he said breathing heavily.

“Good boy, Leland.”

On the thirtieth the cop was breathless and dizzy: by the thirty-fifth he was sobbing between blows, and Dr.Easterman was delivering each of them faster, louder.

When his punishment was at an end and Coyle had called out the final fortieth blow, he lay for a few minutes over Hendrick’s lap, trying not to sob too openly. He could barely move, trembling all over, cock hard and pressed against the doctor’s thigh, although he was far too tired to grind his hips.

Standing was difficult, trying to push himself up without use of his hands was a little awkward. When the cop stumbled, the doctor caught him by the plush, round curve of his hip, and instead of shoving him away, he pulled Coyle back into his lap.

Leland let out a reedy noise, but Easterman gripped him tighter, spreading his legs with his right hand so that Coyle was arranged and accessible. His ass burned in this position, sat in the doctor’s lap, and he stared down at his cock poking out from the thick hair between his legs, shirt stuck to his sweaty body.

Dr.Easterman’s other hand came up, sliding against the side of Coyle’s neck, cupping his jaw. The movement was tender, gentle, and the officer leaned his cheek into it, head spinning.

“..I won’t..I wont do it a-again..” Coyle hiccuped out. “M’ sorry…”

“I know you are, Leland.” said the doctor softly, and pressed his nose against the back of the cop’s neck, inhaling, and his lips brushed against it through the fabric of his shirt as his other hand undoes the binding on Coyle’s wrists.

It then moved to delicately grasp the officer’s throbbing erection, his thumb strummed over his the head as though he were plucking at a cello string. Coyle’s head jerks back as he moaned loudly, his hips pumping upward wanting more friction.

“Good boy,Just like that,” Easterman’s voice was soft and soothing now. He was squeezing harder, pumping faster, and when Coyle came it was a painfully pleasurable thing, made him bite down hard on his lip to keep from crying aloud, and Hendrick rocked him gently through it, hushing him softly.

Leland was breathing heavily, tears still stained on his cheeks, aware of his weight in Easterman’s lap, aware of the doctor’s arms holding him in place, aware of the sweat on his skin and the burn of his ass.

“Clean up my office, Leland.” The doctor mummers in his ear.

“Y-yes sir..”

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Fukutora braindump

In first year no one sat with either of them at lunch—Tora scared people off cause he looks like a delinquent and Fukunaga has that "weird quiet kid who laughs to himself" reputation. As resident yapper Tora got bored eating alone and at this point the only guy he sorta knew was Fukunaga (Kenma eats with Kuroo), so he barged into his class one day and they've eaten together ever since

Thinking about this line from Fukunaga's stat sheet— I think after a good amount of pestering Fukunaga gives in but only in the form of whispering directly into his ear. It flusters Tora at first ("THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT") and Fukunaga's mostly doing it to mess with him but eventually it becomes genuine, Tora even leans over when he senses he has something to say. He's probably heard Fukunaga's voice more than anyone else. Kenma thinks it's really fucking gay.

Speaking of Kenma he's always staring at them like the homophobic dog. It's painfully obvious to him that they have a thing for each other but whenever he tries to bring it up to Tora he has a fit and insists he's not gay. When he brings it up to Fukunaga he just laughs and says he also knows, he's drawing it out on purpose to see when Tora will finally crack. Kenma wants to smash his head into the wall

It takes a while but when Tora finally gets his shit together they're a pretty affectionate couple. The rest of the team make fun of them relentlessly and pretend to gag everytime they so much as look at each other except for Shibayama, who's a bit of a sap and goes too far in the other direction (they high-five and hear a loud "DAWWWW" from the other side of the gym)

Genderfluid Fukunaga, Tora's the biggest wife guy in the world (tied with Tanaka of course). He's always buying her shit or bringing her up in conversations unprompted. Him and Tanaka scroll through their wife photo albums when they hang out

Fukunaga's really good at keeping a straight face but Tora's one of the only people who can get him to crack, and it's not even on purpose. He just says shit thats so dumb or out-of-left-field that Fukunaga fuckign loses it. No one understands why, not even Tora himself

ok that's enough for now thanks for coming to my ted talk

[n0isetanks]

enjoying skysolo in 2024 is a tough job but its honest work