#they speak of god and growth and death

[conn-artist]

I believe that The Oh Hellos could have written Romeo and Juliet. But Shakespeare couldn’t not have written the four winds albums.

[beloveds-embrace]

Quotation marks around worshippers because they’ve lived long, brutal lives, constantly in war and fights and skirmishes and tearing others apart in a bid to simply survive and keep a malicious god content enough it doesn’t kill them and destroy what little they’ve fought hard to win.

John is the oldest. He’s lived long enough to know hope is just a word made by those already deafeated. It doesn’t exist. He has fought bloody and dirty to have his own spot. It’s all his, his only source of safety and isolation from the rest of the god’s violent domain. It should be just his, because trust should also not exist.

Yet he still took in Ghost. His old name burnt away in the ashes of the crumbling arena, more scars than clear skin, face hidden with a mask and all his opponents dead, John still took him in.

He also takes in Johnny. Bright Johnny, with blood coating his teeth and who laughs in the face of death, as if the chaos only strengthens him. Johnny, with his wild grin and reckless spirit, has survived every fight, every slaughter, not by brute force alone but by sheer audacity. He revels in the violence, thriving in the blood-soaked madness that their war god delights in. Despite John’s reluctance, Johnny becomes part of his world- part of the strange, brutal family they’ve formed under the watchful eye of a cruel god.

But John doesn’t stop there. He takes in Kyle, too. Kyle, quick and resourceful, with sharp eyes and sharper instincts. He’s newer to this war, but no less hardened. He knows how to fight, how to survive. He has to, in order to endure the hellish existence demanded by their god. Like the others, he’s marked by the battles he’s fought, by the lives he’s taken, the blood that stains his hands. There’s no room for softness here, no room for weakness.

Together, the four of them are bound by the violence they’ve endured and the desperate struggle to appease a god who feeds on their suffering. They don’t question it. They don’t dare. It’s all they’ve ever known. It’s all they’ll ever know.

Then, you arrive.

But you’re not just some strange outsider, not just another fragile soul lost in the wasteland of their god’s domain. You are another god- a goddess. The goddess of fertility, of harvest, of life itself. The opposite of everything they know. Where they come from a world of blood and fire, you bring growth, peace, and something they can’t name- something they’ve long forgotten.

John is the first to notice the change. It’s subtle at first. The small patch of ground he’s claimed for himself, once barren and dead, begins to show signs of life beyond the very little moss that has made itself home on the rocks and cracks of his area. Tiny sprigs of green push up through the cracked earth, the soil somehow softer, richer. He doesn’t understand it, but he feels it- something shifting, something outside of his control. It leaves him with his hackles raised, eyes narrowed and shoulders often tense.

(He doesn’t shove you out. Doesn’t fight, or attack, or kill you. He doesn’t know why he lets you stay, like that moss that lingers.)

Ghost remains quiet, watchful as always. He doesn’t speak of it, but he, too, notices the strange calm that seems to settle around them when you’re near. The land seems less hostile, the sky a less oppressive red and more of a deep orange. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him wary, but he’s drawn to you nonetheless. There’s something about you that soothes the storm inside him, something that makes the endless violence seem… far away.

Johnny, in contrast, is the first to approach you openly, grinning through bloodstained teeth. “Yer naw like the rest of us, bonnie.” he says with a laugh, almost in awe. He doesn’t know why he feels at ease around you, why the chaos in his mind quiets when you’re near, but he doesn’t question it. You smile at him, your touch soft as you brush dirt from your hands, tending to the small garden you’ve coaxed from the dead soil.

Kyle watches from a distance, suspicious at first. He’s seen enough in this brutal world to know nothing good comes without a cost. But as the days pass, he, too, begins to feel the shift. There’s a strange sense of peace when you’re around, a warmth that feels foreign but not unwelcome.

They don’t realize it at first, but you’re pulling them out of the war god’s grasp, slowly, gently, without them even knowing. With every seed you plant, with every gentle touch, you weave them further into your domain the same way your hands weave flower crowns for each of them. They don’t know that the violent god they served is weakening, that his power is crumbling as you pull the earth itself away from him, reclaiming it for yourself.

The land around them begins to change. The once-scorched earth softens beneath their feet. Where the air was once thick with ash and smoke, it now carries the scent of growing things, of rain, of life. They don’t understand how it’s happening, why the violence that once defined their world seems to be fading, but they can feel it.

And you, always quiet, always gentle, never tell them the truth.

They don’t know that you’ve been dismantling the war god’s domain piece by piece, tearing down the walls of blood and fire that have kept them trapped for so long. They don’t know that with every moment they spend in your presence, they’re moving further from the god they once served, deeper into your realm of peace and growth.

Their trust for you starts small.

You offer them food, but not the scavenged scraps they’re used to- fresh bread, warm and soft, made from the grain you’ve grown in the earth that once seemed too dead to nourish anything. “Eat,” you tell them with a soft smile, your voice a balm against the harshness of their world. “You’ve fought enough for now.”

John eyes you warily at first, his mistrust of softness deeply ingrained. He hesitates, but the hunger gnaws at him, and he finds himself taking a piece. It’s better than anything he’s tasted in years. The others follow suit, their suspicion momentarily forgotten in the simple act of sharing a meal.

When Ghost returns from another brutal skirmish, bloodied and bruised, you’re there. Quietly, without a word, you kneel beside him and start tending to his wounds. His body tenses at first and he is almost read to push you away- he’s used to pain, used to enduring it alone. But your touch is gentle, your hands soft and careful as you clean his cuts and wrap his injuries. He doesn’t speak. When this simple act becomes a routine, something begins to flicker in his eyes, something he hasn’t felt in a long time: relief. Safety.

“You don’t have to fight alone, not anymore.” you murmur, and though Ghost doesn’t reply, he doesn’t pull away either. The next time he’s hurt, he seeks you out before anyone else.

Johnny, always bold, is the first to embrace your presence without hesitation. He grins when you touch his arm, your fingers brushing away dirt from his skin. “You’re soft,” he says quietly, as if he can’t quite believe someone like you exists in their world. You only laugh gently and tousle his messy mohawk, unfazed by his wildness. “Maybe,” you reply, “You deserve it. All of you.”

Johnny’s grin widens, and soon, he’s lingering around you more often, like a star drawn to the sun’s orbit. He chatters about nothing and everything- battles he’s won, places he’s seen, jokes that make no sense. And you listen, never once judging the darkness behind his stories, always meeting his reckless energy with calm kindness.

And Kyle… Kyle is the last to trust. He watches you from a distance, wary and skeptical. He’s been burned too many times, lost too much to believe in something as simple as kindness. But even he can’t deny the peace that settles over him when you’re near. One evening, after a particularly grueling fight, you sit beside him, your presence quiet and soothing. You don’t push, don’t ask him to open up. You just sit there, offering him a slice of bread and a cup of fresh water.

“Why are you helping us?” Kyle asks, his voice low, guarded.

You smile, your eyes warm. Your face is always so open, so welcoming. Kyle does not know how you do it. “Because you’ve fought enough. You deserve rest. Peace.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eases just a little. He still watches you from the corner of his eye, but slowly, he begins to let down his guard.

As the days pass, you continue to tend to them- feeding them, healing them, offering warmth in a world where warmth is rare. They don’t understand it at first, but they begin to feel the shift. The land around them is changing, softening. The earth that was once barren begins to bloom with life. Where there was only death and destruction, now there are signs of growth- flowers, crops, greenery creeping up through the cracks in the wasteland.

John, who has spent his entire life guarding himself, feels it most of all. He watches you with something like confusion, like a man seeing the sun for the first time after years of darkness. He doesn’t understand why he feels calmer, why the constant tension in his body is easing. But despite his better judgment, he finds himself drawn to you- drawn to the softness he’s fought so hard to keep out.

You smile at him, always gentle, always kind, even when he’s rough around the edges. “You don’t have to fight anymore, John,” you tell him one evening as you hand him a fresh scone, drizzled with sweet honey and cream. “There’s more to life than just surviving. Let me show it to you.”

Ghost remains distant, but even he starts to let his guard down around you. The mask he wears, both literal and figurative, feels less necessary when you’re near. The weight of the violence he’s carried for so long feels lighter, though he doesn’t know why. It helps that he comes to you for every injury, your hands gentle and tender on his scarred skin.

Johnny is the most at ease with you, laughing more, fighting less, as though the fire that once consumed him is finally starting to burn out. And Kyle, ever watchful, finds himself relaxing for the first time in a long while, though he’s still unsure why he feels so drawn to you, so at peace in your presence.

Little by little, without them even realizing it, you’re pulling them away from the war god who has held them captive for so long. You’re bringing them into your world, a world of life and peace, where they can be more than just warriors, more than just tools of violence.

And the war god, once so powerful, is fading. His domain is crumbling, and soon, he will be nothing more than a memory.

But they don’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

There is no need to drag them into what happens between gods, you reason to yourself, humming a sweet melody. Catching John’s gaze- they are working on your ever-expanding garden, tending to the soil- you smile and wave at him, delighted by the way his shoulders untense.

Yes. There is no need to ruin this little haven you’ve created.

[greenbloodedskink]

Personally, I like reserving Muse and Lord class for special characters (TM), like an in fiction god or powerful magic person, as long as it doesn't clash with their personalities and that I can make a strong argument for it. But that's for classpecting characters from other media.

As for the Skaia rules, I think aside from dead session, Lord and Muses classes can only arise in tandem for balance reason. I have nothing to support that theory, but I think it's thematically cool.

Thoughts on Master Classes (Lord and Muse)?

What do you all think about these classes? Do you dislike when people use them for OCs or in fanventures, or are you into it?

[blueteller]

You know... I often think about the fact that out of all events in TCF? Rescuing Raon was the most important.

It wasn't just because Cale got himself a "Draco Ex Machina" at his side that could use OP magic at his convenience. He could have used tools or Rosalyn's magic instead, at the beginning at least. We saw how he planned ahead and used an enchanted tool to make Taylor and Cage invisible to sneak them into the capital.

It wasn't just because through Raon, Cale was able to make connection with Eruhaben and later Sheritt and many other Dragons. They were important for their victory, but Cale could have gotten in contact with them through other ways – Pendrick, for example.

It wasn't just because Raon could detect things like dead mana or magical traps and disguises – even if Rosalyn wouldn't be able to, Cale would have probably figured out Alberu's connection to Dark Elves sooner or later. He already had suspicions about "a secret to his birth" before Raon mentioned the dyed hair.

Yes, those thing mattered, don't get me wrong. But, out of all the changes Cale made after his transmigration – saving Raon was the event that truly changed the whole game... not for the world, but for Cale himself.

Raon was, in many instances, the pushing force behind Cale's motivation to participate in various events. Slacker life? Cale's wishful thinking. But the motivation to actively get people involved – like Mary, for example. Raon was the one who cheered Cale on, kept him company through everything, especially the tough times. Raon was the one who, along with On and Hong, melted Cale's heart the fastest, getting this stubborn, traumatized man to admit they were "family". It's not that he wouldn't be a good man doing good things without Raon; but without Raon he would be in a lot more denial (even more than he already is!!) about why he is doing such things.

Raon represents everything Cale loves about his new life. The joy, the hope for the future, the curiosity and enthusiasm. Yes Cale often acts tired of (or freaks out over) Raon's antics or pretends to ignore him. But in the end... he never actually does. Cale never stops paying attention to him or tells him to go away.

Raon was the one who truly "got under his skin", so to speak. Cale wholeheartedly trusts and respects Raon. Of course, Raon is still a child under his protection... The reason why Cale always insisted on him staying hidden, throughout most of their adventures. I remember the moment Cale got the Dragon Blood Drinking Crown, and his first reaction was "let's throw this away/destroy it". The utter repulsion towards anything that could be a danger to Raon, despite how potentially useful such an artifact could be, logic be damned. Or that moment when they met the White Star for the first time, the villain telling Cale how he would kill the child and feed his heart to him – how Cale outwardly showed terror for the first time in the whole novel, instantly hugging Raon close to him and activating the shield to its fullest.

That's what really gets to me, you know? Raon's protectiveness for Cale is so obvious, but Cale is just as protective of him in return. I truly believe that while all relationships that Cale had shaped him as a person (just like the God of Death stated in his letter to him), the relationship between Cale and Raon is one that shaped them both in equal measure on both sides.

This relationship between them feels like fate, and that's no accident.

Changing Raon's fate was fundamental for saving the world, yes. But it equally important for Cale's own growth. An event which happened right at the beginning on the story, shaped the course of the entire future.

[writers-potion]

The Pirate's Glossary

Ahoy - an interjection used to hail a ship or a person, or to attract attention.

Arr! - an exclamation

Avast! - a command meaning stop or desist

Aye (or ay) - yes; an affirmation

Becalmed - the state of a sailing vessel which cannot move due to a lack of wind

Belay - (1) to secure or make dast by winding on a cleat or pin (2) to stop, most often used as a command

Bilged on her anchor - a ship holed or pierced by its own anchor

Bilmey! - an exclamation of surprise, short for "God blind me!"

Blow the man down - to kill someone

Boom about - when a ship turns in the wind the boom can swing violently enough to injure or kill a person on board. "Boom about" may be shouted to warn others the boom is about to move.

Bring a spring upon her cable - to come around in a different direction, oftentimes as a surprise maneuver.

Careen - to take a ship into shallower waters or out of the water altogether and remove barnacles and pests such as mollusks, shells and plant growth from the bottom.

Chase - a ship being pursued, or the act of pursuing a ship.

Code of conduct - a set of rules which govern pirates behavior on a vessel.

Come about - to bring the ship full way around in the wind. Used in general while sailing into the wind, but also used to indicate a swing back into the enemy in combat.

Crack Jenny's teacup - to spend the night in a house of ill repute.

Crimp - to procure (sailors or soldiers) by trickery or coercion, or one who crimps.

Dance the Hempen jig - to hang

Davy Jones' locker - a fictional place at the bottom of the ocean. In short, a term meaning death.

Dead men tell no tales - standard pirate excuse for leaving no survivors.

Deadlights - (1) strong shutters or plates fastened over a ship's porthole or cabin window in stormy weather. (2) Thick windows set in a ship's side or deck. (3) eyes.

Fire in the hole - a warning issued before a cannon is fired.

Furl - to roll up and secure, especially a ship’s sail.

Give no quarter - the refusal to spare lives of an opponent. Pirates raise a red flag to threaten no quarter will be given.

Handsomely - quickly or carefully; in a shipshape style.

Haul wind - to direct a ship into the wind.

Heave down - to turn a vessel on its side for cleaning.

Heave - an interjection meaning to come to a halt.

Ho - used to express surprise or joy, to attract attention to something sighted, or to urge onward.

Letter of marque - a document given to a sailor (privateer) giving him amnesty from piracy laws as long as the ships plunders are of an enemy nation.

List - to lean to one side

Long clothes - a style of clothing best suited to land. A pirate, or any sailor, doesn't have the luxury of wearing anything loose that might get in the way while climbing up riggings.

Marooned - to be stranded, particularly on a desert isle.

Me - My

No prey, no pay - a common pirate law meaning a crew received no wages, but rather shared whatever loot was taken.

Overhaul - (1) to slacken a line (2) to gain upon in a chase; to overtake

Parely - a conference or discussion between opposing sides during a dispute, especially when attempting a truce, originating from the French, "parler," meaning "to speak." The term was used in "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" as part of Pirate law.

Piracy - robbery committed at sea.

Quarter - derived from the idea of "shelter", quarter is given when mercy is offered by pirates. Quarter is often the prize given to an honorable loser in a pirate fight.

Reef sails - to shorten the sails by partially tying them up, either to slow the ship or to keep a strong wind from putting too much strain on the masts.

Run a shot across the bow - a command to fire a warning shot.

Sail ho! - an exclamation meaning another ship is in view. The sail, of course, is the first part of a ship visible over the horizon.

Scupper that! - an expression of anger or derision meaning "Throw that overboard!"

Sea legs - The ability to adjust one's balance to the motion of a ship, especially in rough seas. After walking on a ship for long periods of time, sailors became accustomed to the rocking of the ship in the water. Early in a voyage a sailor was said to be lacking his "sea legs" when the ship motion was still foreign to him. After a cruise, a sailor would often have trouble regaining his "land legs" and would swagger on land.

Shiver me timbers! - An expression of surprise or strong emotion. In stormy weather and rough seas, the support timbers of a ship would "shiver" which might startle the crew. The phrase may have been less common during the Golden Age of Piracy than it had become later in fictional works.

Show a leg! - A phrase used to wake up a sleeping pirate.

Sink me! - An expression of surprise. Many pirate exclamations used exaggerated imagery to highten a point. Ye might say the sailors were punchy or a bit melodramatic after a lengthy stay at sea.  

Smartly - quickly

Take a caulk - To take a nap. On the deck of a ship, between planks, was a thick caulk of black tar and rope to keep water from between decks. This term came about either because sailors who slept on deck ended up with black lines across their backs or simply because sailors laying down on deck were as horizontal as the caulk of the deck itself.

To go on account - A pleasant term used by pirates to describe the act of turning pirate. The basic idea was that a pirate was more "free lance" and thus was, more or less, going into business for himself.

Warp - To move (a vessel) by hauling on a line that is fastened to or around a piling, anchor, or pier.

Weigh anchor - To haul the anchor up; more generally, to leave port.

Ye - you

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

Reference:

https://www.pirateglossary.com/

[rad-batson]

Headcanons of Tim and Damian’s Love/Hate/But-Mostly-Begrudging-Love Relationship (They’re My Babies)

They will take EVERY opportunity to be a little bitch to one another

Tim: “Don’t get too close to me. You probably have rabies.” Damian: *actually bites him*

Damian tripped Tim once, which started an all out prank war that lasted several months. It only ended when Bruce walked into a glue trap and couldn’t reach his phone to call for help. But he couldn’t figure out who put it there so they were both grounded. (It was Tim.)

Tim teaches Damian to finish his vine references when Bruce tells them they need to “bond.” They proceed to try and speak in exclusively vine references and TikTok sounds during patrol. Bruce benches them for his own sanity.

Damian: “I’m not touching you” *gets pushed down the stairs*

Tim: “I’m not in your room” *gets hit in the face with a book*

Tim calls Damian short even tho he’s only like two inches taller for quite a bit of time (and Damian never hears the end of it after Tim’s growth spurt)

Family Game Night could go in one of two ways: they’re opponents and spend the whole night one-upping each other OR they team up and wipe the floor with everyone else’s pieces

Damian: “Just trust me.” Tim: *remembering that one time Damian tried to kill him* “Okay.”

Tim: “Don’t ask questions.” Damian: *recalling the multiple genocidal Tim variants* “Whatever.”

During one Wayne Gala, they make up this game called Freestyle Checkers where they choose guests as their “pieces” then subtly manipulate them into walking to their opponent’s side of the ballroom without talking to someone from the other team or they’re out. No one can know that they’re part of a game or their opponent wins by default.

Bruce is proud of them at first for being more sociable during galas until he realizes what’s going on and immediately loses five years from his lifespan.

Both have attempted to fake their deaths to get out of the same school project

They’re both notorious for stalking people to get information instead of just…ya know…asking like a normal person. So they’re bound to team up one day.

Like maybe it’s Bruce’s birthday soon and both are like “No, I’m getting him the better present,” but then they run into each other in the vents trying to find out what he wants and they end up trading secrets. Just brotherly things

Tim: “I need you to follow this guy for me. I think he’s our culprit.” Damian: “I would rather die than take orders from you.” Tim: “I’ll buy you that fancy oil painting kit you want.” Damian: *already changing into his Robin gear* “Where is he?”

Tim makes Damian play the dumb, helpless kid in all of their covert operations, which pisses Damian off until he gets so good at it that he uses it to his advantage and annoys the hell out of Tim when they’re paired up for public appearances

“God, he’s so annoying.” “Yeah, totally.” “What the fuck did you say about my brother?”

Damian is the only person who can get Tim to actually sleep for once. No one knows how he does it, but the strongest theory so far is blackmail

Tim “I’m ignoring Bruce’s instructions because they failed the vibe check” Drake and Damian “I can totally do this mission that requires four people on my own” Wayne teaming up behind Bruce’s back and immediately getting into deep shit but somehow making it out alive with the bad guys behind bars.

During one of said missions, they thought they were going to die and said “I love you” to one another. After they survived, they silently agreed to never mention it again.

Damian gifts Tim a new board that he designed for his birthday. It took weeks. Tim cries

[oddyseye]

Let's talk about Polites in EPIC: The Musical...and Eurylochus.

I do not get the hype for Polites. Yes, he’s supposed to be this sweet, trusting, “open arms” guy who exists to show Odysseus the value of kindness, but he’s an actual walking disaster. He’s a hypocrite through and through. This man fought in the Trojan War — there’s no way his hands are clean — so his sudden push for peace and “let’s all trust each other” feels completely illogical. You don’t get to be a warrior and then act shocked when the world bites back. Here’s what gets me: Polites doesn’t even suffer the consequences of his own idiocy. He dies immediately, leaving the rest of the crew (especially Odysseus) to clean up the mess. His naive, sunshine-and-rainbows approach literally causes everything to fall apart. It’s because of his influence that Odysseus shows mercy to the Cyclops. Look, Polyphemus wasn’t just some big guy with sheep; he was a monster who ate people alive. Odysseus could have stuck to what he does best — being clever, ruthless, and surviving — but instead, Polites’ “let’s be kind and reasonable” act softened him. What did that get them? Poseidon’s rage, storms that killed dozens of men, and an endless chain of suffering. I don’t even feel bad for him because he’s the one who got them into that situation. He got bludgeoned to death, and Odysseus was left holding the guilt and the trauma. Polites did more harm to Odysseus than any monster, god, or storm combined. His naive “open arms” nonsense shattered everything Odysseus built.

His “open arms” philosophy doesn’t even fit the world they live in. This isn’t some cozy, peaceful land — it’s a brutal, war-torn reality where gods toy with humans for sport and monsters eat you for dinner. Odysseus knows this. He’s been through ten years of war, and his leadership is built on cleverness, caution, and yes, ruthlessness when necessary. Polites telling Odysseus to just trust people is like handing a lamb to a lion and acting shocked when it gets eaten. It’s ridiculous. And for all the praise he gets for his ideals, what do they actually accomplish? Nothing. They just put everyone in danger. I care about the impact he had on Odysseus, of course, but not him as a person — because his ideals were dangerous, and his death came way too soon for it to feel meaningful. He was a plot device, not a hero. Meanwhile, Eurylochus gets called selfish, but at least he wasn’t stupid enough to greet the Cyclops or a pretty witch with open arms (and legs).

And keep in mind that, in the original epic, Polites is barely even a footnote — a guy who gets name-dropped once or twice and that’s it. He wasn’t Odysseus’ best friend, he wasn’t some great philosopher of peace, and he definitely didn’t have this huge impact on Odysseus’ leadership. He was just another member of the crew. Yet, for some reason, Jorge decided to pluck him out of obscurity, slap on some manufactured “kind soul” personality, and act like he’s this beacon of morality who changes everything. And for what? Polites’ entire presence in Epic feels like a forced excuse to make Odysseus feel bad about everything. Polites wasn’t important in The Odyssey, so why does Epic act like losing him broke Odysseus? If the story wanted to explore Odysseus’ guilt, fine — but why pin it all on some guy who didn’t even matter in the original myth? At least Eurylochus had a real role in the Odyssey. He was Odysseus’ second-in-command, brother-in-law, and actually did stuff. Speaking of Eurylochus, my man deserves some credit for being an actual human character. Eurylochus makes bad decisions, but at least his choices feel human. Polites, on the other hand, is just...there. A one-note plot device designed to give Odysseus trauma.

I call Polites a hypocrite, while everyone slaps that title onto Eurylochus. But honestly, if anything, Eurylochus is the only crew member who shows consistent growth throughout the story. Eurylochus doesn’t just blindly follow Odysseus or cling to pretty ideals like Polites. Instead, he’s pragmatic, deeply flawed, and painfully human — exactly the kind of person you’d expect to survive years of war and suffering. And honestly? He’s the only one who sees through Odysseus’ contradictions and calls him out when it matters most. Let’s start with the wind bag incident. People love to blame Eurylochus for this, but let’s look at what really happened. Odysseus did tell the crew what was in the bag — he made it clear: “This bag has the storm inside, we cannot let the treasure rumor fly!”

But by that point, the crew was exhausted, starving, and suspicious of their leader. It didn’t help that the Winions planted the idea that the bag contained treasure. That’s what drove the crew to act — greed and distrust, born out of their suffering. And despite the fact Eurylochus didn’t act alone, he often gets singled out as the scapegoat. But reminder that Odysseus refused to let anyone carry the bag, didn’t share its burden, and still kept himself separate from the crew. The men were barely hanging on, and their captain’s secrecy — however well-intentioned — made it easy for paranoia to fester. Was opening the bag a mistake? Absolutely. But it wasn’t just Eurylochus’ fault. It was the natural result of a crew pushed to their breaking point, fueled by mistrust. And when everything blew up — literally — who carried the blame? Eurylochus. Because that’s the role he always ends up in: the fall guy for everyone else’s failures. Then there’s Circe’s island — another moment where Eurylochus’ actions get unfairly criticized. When the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus does something incredibly human: he panics. He doesn’t want to rush back into danger, and his instinct is to survive. And thus, he suggests abandoning the men and sailing away with Odysseus, which is a harsh and selfish choice. But when he suggests leaving the men, it’s because the situation with Circe is impossible, and the men are trapped. He doesn’t want to abandon them out of cruelty. And let’s not forget that Odysseus’ response is pivotal here. He tells Eurylochus this:

“There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save. I can only hope you’d do the same.” This line changes everything. It plants a seed in Eurylochus that will shape his future actions and, more importantly, his expectations of Odysseus. From that moment on, Eurylochus believes in the idea of loyalty — of never leaving a man behind. He takes Odysseus’ words to heart and learns from him. That’s why what happens later, at Scylla, feels like such a betrayal. When Odysseus sacrifices six men to Scylla to save the rest of the crew, Eurylochus is furious, and rightfully so. From Eurylochus’ perspective, this is hypocrisy of the highest order. Odysseus, who taught him to value every life, now coldly sacrifices six of their men without even warning them. He plans their deaths. “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!” This line hits hard, because it exposes the truth about Odysseus’ leadership. Odysseus demands loyalty, respect, and obedience, but he doesn’t want to share the weight of his failures. Eurylochus’ anger isn’t hypocrisy — it’s justified. He held Odysseus to the same standard Odysseus set for him on Circe’s island, and when Odysseus fell short, Eurylochus refused to stay silent. This moment is a turning point: Eurylochus transforms from the scared, self-serving man on Circe’s island to someone who believes in loyalty and accountability. He learned from Odysseus, only to realize that Odysseus doesn’t always live up to his own ideals (hmmmm who does that sound like, oh I wonder).

And to make matters worse — because of course Polites' chaos wasn't enough — we have the cattle situation, which is basically Eurylochus and Odysseus reaching their absolute breaking points. Let’s get one thing clear: what happens with the cattle of Helios? That’s not Eurylochus being weak or selfish — it’s Eurylochus being human. By the time they get to the island, the crew is starving, hopeless, and barely hanging on. Odysseus’ guilt, Poseidon’s fury, everything else, it broke everyone, including Eurylochus. So when he sees those cattle, he cracks. It’s not just about hunger. It’s about everything that’s led them there: the death, the constant danger, the years of being dragged across the seas because of Odysseus’ mistakes and gods playing games. This is where the lyrics hit like a gut punch. Look at the difference in lyrics: “I need to get home!” “How much longer must I go about my life like this, when people die like this?” And that right there? That’s the heart of it.

Odysseus is fixated on his goal, on getting home, because that’s what keeps him going. But Eurylochus? He’s stuck in the present. He’s surrounded by death and misery every single day. Polites’ naive optimism is long gone, and what’s left is the harsh reality of survival. Eurylochus isn’t wrong for saying “enough is enough.” They’ve been starved, cursed, and hunted; the gods have abandoned them. Why wouldn’t he break? And Odysseus loses it. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus!” And yeah, it’s easy to say that when you’re the one in charge (since Odysseus did not kill the cattle, he holds none of the blame). But Eurylochus was broken by everything that’s happened. The way Odysseus says “I need to get home” feels so disconnected from everything Eurylochus has been going through. Odysseus still sees home as the end goal, while Eurylochus has already seen how much it costs to get there. And when Eurylochus calls him “Captain” instead of “Ody” at the end, it shows that everything between them has changed. There’s no more camaraderie. There’s no more brotherhood. He knows what he’s done, but he also knows that Odysseus will never be the same after this. That shift in how he addresses Odysseus shows how much their relationship has deteriorated — and how much Eurylochus has lost. And let us not forget, Odysseus was doomed from the start.

Polites set the curse in motion. Poseidon was already out for blood. The gods were never going to let them off easy, no matter what Eurylochus did. So let’s stop blaming him for one moment of desperation when he was already broken. People always point out Eurylochus’ flaws, but they forget one key thing: he’s the only one who really gets it. He’s the one who challenges Odysseus when he sees his leader making reckless choices. He’s the one who has the courage to question Odysseus, even when everyone else is too afraid to speak up. If you ask me, Polites represents the idealistic lie — this idea that kindness and trust will save you in a world ruled by cruelty and chaos. Eurylochus, on the other hand, represents the harsh truth of what it means to survive. He’s messy, flawed, and emotional, but he’s real. And unlike Polites, who dies early and leaves everyone else to clean up his mess, Eurylochus stays until the bitter end. He bears the burden of Odysseus’ choices, and when he breaks, he does so in a way that makes you feel for him, not judge him.

Eurylochus never gets the credit he deserves because everyone’s too busy crying over Polites. Polites, who gets to die early and leave Odysseus saddled with guilt. Polites, who delivers one cheesy song about “kindness” and then gets bludgeoned in a cave. I’m supposed to feel bad for him? Sure, his death is sad, but the impact he left on Odysseus and the crew? Utter chaos. He’s the reason Odysseus showed mercy to Polyphemus, which kicked off Poseidon’s revenge. Without that storm, they could’ve sailed back home after the cyclops incident. No Circe, no gravity killing Elpenor, no Scylla, no Zeus obliterating the last of them with his thunderbolt. Polites may as well have killed the 599 men himself. Eurylochus deserved his place in the story. He earned it, and he deserves more credit than anyone is willing to give him. Polites was just a naive dreamer who died too early, leaving everyone to deal with the mess he made.

[msriri030]

God!Solivan x God!Reader

simple, short oneshot

The God of Life. Among the divine, some whispered that you held the highest honor—to craft wonders, to breathe existence into the birds that danced in the sky and the fish that glided through the seas. You were the architect of beginnings, the harbinger of beauty and growth.

But to you, it was an endless, wearisome dance—an intricate cycle of creation and destruction, a fragile symphony where every crescendo eventually fell silent. For all your power, you were helpless to halt the inevitable.

For a god of life, attachments were a cruel luxury. To grow too fond of anything was to invite despair, for everything you nurtured and cherished would, in time, fall into the hands of Solivan, your eternal counterpart—the God of Death.

Solivan, with his quiet resolve and shadowed presence, was the immutable balance to your existence. His touch was inevitable, inescapable, as much a part of the cycle as your own. Where your hands gave breath, his hands took it. Where you painted the world in vibrant hues, he cloaked it in the stillness of the void.

And so, you tried not to linger too long over your creations, no matter how perfect they seemed. You reminded yourself that they were fleeting, that every heartbeat you granted carried the promise of an eventual silence. Yet, in the quiet moments between creation and release, when the first cries of a newborn echoed or the petals of a flower unfurled in the morning light, you felt the faint ache of rebellion stir within you.

"Why must it always end?" you asked Solivan, your voice heavy with sorrow as the two of you walked through the cobbled streets of a town in its twilight. The fading light bathed the crumbling structures in a soft, golden glow, a cruel contrast to the reality of their inevitable demise.

Solivan paused, his dark, enigmatic gaze sweeping over the quiet scene before settling on you. His expression, as always, was unreadable, his voice steady as he replied, "Because that is the only way it can truly begin."

"It isn’t fair," you said, your voice breaking. "Not just for me…but for you too, Sol." You stopped and turned to him, your hands trembling as tears brimmed in your eyes. “You deserve to enjoy… living.” Your gaze, both angry and heartbroken, bore into his, demanding something—anything—that could make sense of the endless ache.

Solivan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. For eons, he had been content to simply exist by your side, a silent shadow to your radiance. To him, nothing else mattered. You were his light in an otherwise gray and barren eternity, the one who filled his existence with beauty, breathing life into the void he governed.

Your presence painted his charcoal world in hues he could never have imagined—a world he could only experience through you. Every laugh, every fleeting joy you shared, etched itself into the fabric of his being.

He wanted to tell you that. To explain how you had shaped him, how you had given meaning to his otherwise cold and mechanical purpose. But the words felt clumsy and inadequate for what he felt. So instead, he did what he knew best—he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek gently.

“I do not need the kind of life you speak of,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You are enough. You are all the life I will ever need.”

For a fleeting moment, the ache in your chest softened, replaced by the warmth in his voice and the tenderness of his touch. But even as you leaned into the comfort he offered, a quiet sadness lingered. Deep down, you knew that Solivan, the unyielding God of Death, deserved more than the endless cycle of endings. He deserved to live.

“Then promise me this…” you whispered, your hands rising to cup his, your fingertips grazing the coolness of his palm. You nuzzled against it, your touch gentle yet resolute. Looking into his fiery red-orange eyes, now softened by the golden glow of the town’s fading light, you searched for reassurance. “If… if at the end of all ends, when everything has faded away, I want nothing more than for you to find me and be by my side once more.”

For a moment, Solivan was silent, his gaze studying you intently. Then, a rare smile spread across his lips—soft, genuine, and laced with a quiet reverence. “Hmm… only if you will promise to be my soulmate, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice low and rich with emotion. Slowly, he lowered his head, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness anchoring both of you in the moment.

Your breath caught, and a blush rose to your cheeks, the warmth spreading across your face. Sol chuckled softly, the sound deep and melodic, resonating in the quiet space between you.

“I think…” you began, your voice trembling but filled with sincerity, “I think I would love that, Sol.”

And for a moment, as the world around you faded into the backdrop, time itself seemed to pause. In that shared vow, a fragile yet unbreakable bond was forged—a promise that no cycle, no end, could ever sever.

“Excuse me?” Solivan turned away from the classroom window, his crimson-orange eyes locking onto yours with quiet curiosity. The light streaming through the glass framed his sharp features, softening them just enough to take your breath away. For a moment, the world seemed to still as he took in the sight of you standing there, clutching your artbook tightly to your chest.

You swallowed hard, mustering the courage to speak despite the slight flutter in your chest. “Do you have a partner?” Your voice was steady, but your heart raced with every passing second.

Solivan blinked, caught off guard by the directness of your question. His expression didn’t waver, but a faint flicker of intrigue danced in his fiery eyes. He replied simply, his tone calm and measured, as though the question hadn’t unsettled him in the slightest. “No,”

[inkykeiji]

say you’ll love me to death, cause i will

character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship

words: 4.7k

synopsis:

“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”  And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.  No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.  You’re something so much better. 

You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears. 

“Touya?”

The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar. 

She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter. 

You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you. 

It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.

But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.

Doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.

But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks. 

Touya’s first. 

“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?” 

“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.

“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”

“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment. 

Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat. 

But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.

“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”

And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.  

God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.

She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant. 

The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.

“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?” 

And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth. 

No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other. 

You’re something so much better. 

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.” 

And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.  

You know that it’s his favourite part, too. 

Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.

The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself,  with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and  frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched. 

Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her. 

“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?” 

It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.

“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.” 

He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip. 

And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.

“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.” 

“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.” 

You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too. 

It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay. 

“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”  

A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.  

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.” 

“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.” 

“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you. 

“It was nice—”

But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be. 

“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard. 

“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft. 

“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!” 

It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops. 

Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant. 

His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.

“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?” 

And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.” 

He will. You know he will. You love that he will.

“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.

His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place. 

“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”

Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.

“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”

Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful. 

He can do that.

The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone. 

The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts. 

A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own. 

His baby is on a mission tonight. 

“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”

“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens. 

“Is that so?” 

“That is so.” 

“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.” 

“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?” 

“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”

And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language. 

“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?” 

“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.” 

“So greedy, my little sister is.” 

“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.” 

And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust. 

“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.

“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!” 

A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”

Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips. 

“Wh-What?”

“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”

He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”

“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce. 

His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness. 

“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”

And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.

Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.

It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin. 

But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself. 

“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes. 

Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands. 

It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.

You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips. 

“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.

The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.

He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.

And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles. 

Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.

And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.” 

And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation. 

He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.

The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole. 

It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do. 

He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief. 

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.

“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut. 

And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.

Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.

He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.

But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.

It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips. 

It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips. 

The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.

Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.

The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy. 

His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.

The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.

His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks. 

And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points. 

His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent. 

The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder. 

His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it. 

And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.

He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.

Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders. 

“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to. 

“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker. 

Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.

She looks like she’s going to be sick.

You hope she is.

“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?” 

Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.

“Give your big brother a kiss, then.” 

And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth. 

Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.

“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth. 

You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.

The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother. 

“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.” 

“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”

Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.

“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.” 

“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible. 

“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”

He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.

“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.” 

And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants. 

Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream. 

“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips. 

“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.” 

[pinkpearlgoddess]

𓃠

PAC: How soon will your manifestation become reality ✨

Please remember all PAC (Pick a pile) readings are for entertainment purposes and should not be replaced for mental, physical or financial advice

Free readings: my free readings will be open very soon, I will also be offering exchange readings🐇

Pile 1:

Rebirth: Tower Card, Death Card

This pile has understood their own gift and method of manifestation, I feel like this pile has gone through its fair share of trial and error and have now understood which method works best for them. I see majority of you have already manifested a few things out of your list but there seems to be one or two main ones you are still working on bringing to reality. Be prepared for some major changes because to get these manifestation into reality I see a tower and death card moment that needs to happen. You have done a lot work when it comes to trying to manifest this in your life. However, the vision I’m seeing is for these manifestation to come to reality it’s not only practice but also a detox as they would not fit in your current life. March and April. Be prepared to see one of two of your major manifestation to come to reality. I don’t see you being surprised as you have been putting the work in. There is a strong inner knowing. Congratulations!

Key to make this work faster: Detox your life, anything that does not longer reserves you let go of it and NEVER and I mean NEVER look back

Pile 2:

Nurture: Feminine energy, Inner Child

This group has not yet seen anything come to reality as of yet. Some of you have one goal and one goal only but are struggling to understand why your manifestations have not come to light. I'm here to tell you there is a blockage in energy, one that has to do with personal inner growth and healing. I see a gray cloud near your sacral chakra and throat chakra. This group would do well to start writing daily in a journal. I also sense this group may overthink the manifestation method too much, trying multiple methods to see if they're doing it wrong. The key here is you need to be in the right mind space to start receiving from the universe or God, depending on who you believe in. Your manifestation will come to reality six months into creating a healthy routine that includes catering to your feminine energy and inner child healing (the inner child part will be painful to go through but also refreshing at the same time).

Key to make this work faster: Play subs during the night while you’re asleep, Journal literally everything in your life, start working on self care, stop overthinking about others and focus on yourself, speak your mind OUT LOUD and clearly, take walks in nature, start scripting from an “I AM” point of view including gratitude.

Pile 3:

Experimental: The Fool & The magician 

key word: Consistency

Collective from this pile feel like new energy, new to the practical side of manifestation or have done a full reset and want to start from the beginning. Most of you have studied and explored the mindset point of view when it comes to manifestation and would now like to test the practical side of it. I see a lot of you being very sceptical due to an influxes of information coming in regarding manifestation. When it comes to the practical side of things and the work you put in it’s important you meditate on which methods you would like to start of with, which methods spiritually calls to you, not every method works for everyone. List all the methods that call to you and truly mediate of which one would best serve the manifestation you’re currently looking to achieve. One you have made the choice… practice consistently. This pile definitely rely on logic and practicality, so I see you guys being successful at this. There is a strong magician energy to you all, an academia background. You guys may even make a book documenting how your journey is going, what you’ve notice, what you would try in a different ways. There is no time frame because it doesn’t really seem like this pile is looking for a time but mainly a method to which works best for them. After mediating on a time frame and pulling a few cards, I feel you manifesting your first goal in 10 weeks to 12 weeks, Congratulations!

Key to make this work faster: Consistency is very important here: it should be part of your daily routine, part of your lifestyle, mental diet: learn about your mind and how you communicate to yourself

[darnell-la]

𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: the wolverine x assassin!reader

warnings: toxicity, abandon (for a reason), fight, blood, swords, crying, yelling, begging, near death, treated, depression, growth, smut, claiming, etc.

request: Well again sorry if you do decide to do a part two. Maybe female y/n does end up going with them cause she can't exactly walk and when the big epic fight happens she actually like helps Logan and uh..darn it you have her name in the story and I already forgot so yeah so female y/n gets injured protecting her..and like after that logan manages to finish the fight due to his rage about it. Uhh like maybe a small time skip with female y/n fully recovering and basically it's logan claiming female y/n as hia forever - @reeeeee3737388

note: this is a rewrite of the Wolverine move when Logan howlett is in Japan. Here is part two.

———

The next morning, Logan woke up first, surprised after he wiped his eyes and yawned, realizing that he hadn’t had a bad dream, or woke up in the middle of the night.

“Fuck,” the man dragged low as he turned his body, facing y/n that was lying on her back. Logan scanned the girl's body that wasn’t covered in the blanket he had thrown over the both of them.

He couldn’t help but think about yesterday. He had gone on for so long. Of course, he took a few breaths due to her blacking out needing a break.

She was too fucked out to speak and tell him she couldn’t anymore, so she laid there and took it. Gripping him every time she came.

“Logan!” Mariko yelled from inside of the safe room he had locked her in. Her speaker still worked, and she had just woken up after being there for almost twenty-four hours.

“Shit,” Logan rolled his eyes with a loud groan as he got up from the bed. He fixed himself up, making sure his zipper wasn’t down and his belt was buckled. He didn’t know how to tell the princess he fucked the assassin to submission.

“Stay back!” Logan yelled before running into the stew metal door. He continued until the door opened, revealing a tried Mariko with snacks in hand as well as a drink.

“What was taking you so long, Logan? Are they gone- Oh my god!” Mariko gasped as she saw the bodies on the ground. “W-What — Oh my god,” she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got a hostage,” Logan said. As Mariko gave Logan a confused look, they heard a thud in the room he left y/n in. “She’s awake,” he said before showing Mariko.

As the two walked into the room, they saw y/n on the floor, pushing her upper body off of the floor as her legs stayed crossed and twitched.

“Fuckin’ fell,” y/n said, upset that her lower body ached this bad. She had no idea how it could be sore and numb at the same time. “Had to — Interrogate her?” Logan shrugged, trying to find a good lie.

“Why is she naked?” Mariko asked, just now making y/n realize her breasts were out and her skirt sat up so far, they could see her mound.

“Fuck,” y/n said under her breath as she pulled her skirt down and covered her breast. “Look-“ Logan went to say but Mariko passed him an eye roll to go help y/n.

“I’m sorry so sorry he-“ Mariko went to speak, but y/m but her off. “It’s okay — H-He didn’t hurt me, I’m just a little-“ y/n tried getting up but she fell back down, making Logan feel bad.

“Shit,” the man said as he walked over to the younger lady and picked her up, placing her on the bed she fell out of after trying to maybe escape, but what would she say to her master?

If she hadn’t come back with Mariko, he’d probably kill her. He needed Mariko to lore Logan to him.

“Sorry,” was all Logan said as he stepped back, seeing the state he had left a stranger in. “I — I needed to eat some steak loose, and I didn’t want to kill you,” Logan admitted.

“Well, isn’t that charming,” y/n faked smiling before turning her head to lay down, away from him. “Hey, if you hadn’t barged in her, actin’ all innocent at first, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Oh, so I can’t look good or else the Wolverine will find me and fuck me!” Y/n yelled the last two words, making sure he felt how stupid he sounded.

“Well, maybe, yes — You fuckin’ liked it anyway. Could tell the way you squeezed my cock,” the man said through his teeth before leaving out of the room.

“Is he always like this? God,” Y/n rolled her eyes as she flopped back into the soft pillow. “I’ve only known him for a short time, but you’re the only one he’s been nice to, so far,” Mariko smiled.

Mariko has never seen anything like this before. She didn’t know if having sex with an assassin was normal, but she didn’t judge Logan. As long as the girl lying on the bed was fine, Mariko was fine.

“Alright, get up — We’re gettin’ out of here,” Logan barged into the room after an hour of Mariko cooking whatever she could find and serving it to the two.

“Ian goin’ nowhere with you,” y/n said. The way she spoke was different than yesterday. He didn’t know why, but she did. For the past hour, she’s decided the best thing to do is not work for Mariko’s grandfather anymore.

If she went back, she’ll be killed. She needed to vanish and make it seem like she had died trying to fight the Wolverine.

“Oh, yes, you are, and you’re gonna tell us who you work for,” Logan said as he grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her off of the bed. She instantly fell to the ground. She felt like a newborn dear.

Logan rolled his eyes as he dropped his hands. The groan that left his mouth, annoyed y/n. “This is your fucking fault? Like, don’t you know how to take a fuckin’ break you rabid beast,”

Y/n tried getting up by herself, but she couldn’t feel her legs only tingle. Her cunt had throbbed as well, reminding her of last night. Fuck, he fucked her good.

“Ain’t like you stopped cumin’ either,” Logan said, looking right into the girl's eyes. “Body reaction, dickhead,” y/n lied, knowing she felt too damn good when she came around his cock.

“Oh, yeah? Wanna fuckin’ bet on that, Bub?” The man asked as he walked over to y/n, then picked her up. “No, you fuckin- Hey!” Y/n yelled at the man after he threw her on the bed.

Logan hovered over Y/n, not making a move, but looking down at her, eyes dark and cock picking through his jeans.

He’s supposed to be taking this situation seriously. He’s supposed to kill her and run off with Mariko to get her to safety, but instead, he’s pussy-whipped over an assassin sent to weaken him.

“Tell me you like it,” Logan said, voice sounding a bit like a beg, but he wasn’t going to make it more obvious. “Why? You get off on it, big boy?” She asked with a smirk, knowing he did. He is right now.

“Maybe I do — Whatcha gonna do about it, Bub?” Logan’s face leaned towards her, making their noses touch. The low growls Logan let out, only made it harder for y/n to deny him.

“Names y/n — Maybe ask before you try gettin’ in my pants again,” she said, making the man chuckle under his. “Try? Baby, I did,”

His cocky reply left y/n silent. It was true. He did get in her pants. He did get through her slit and made her cum on his cock multiple times.

“You’re a dick,” y/n said, voice low and shy all of a sudden. Even though her lower body was numb, she couldn’t stop her cunt from throbbing. “You like it — Can smell ya,”

“Get off,” y/n said in a serious tone she forced. Instead of arguing, he did as told with a chuckle. “Gonna come back with some clothes and carry you today. You piss me off, and those legs will stay dead longer than they have to,”

“Her grandfather’s alive, and you didn’t fucking tell us!?” Logan asked. It’s. After a day of Logan carrying the woman, she finally told them who wanted Mariko, and why.

Logan wasn’t happy about it. He had thrown y/n to the ground as they walked the streets of Tokyo.

“Why would I!? I wanted to leave!” Y/n said as she slowly got up, able to walk now, but Logan insisted. He said she would walk too slowly. In actuality, he just wanted to carry the woman around.

“Let’s go, Mariko,” Logan said as he turned around to head to where Mariko’s grandfather was hiding out. “No! H-He wants you there! If you do, you’ll give him what he wants,” y/n got up and tried pulling the man back to save his life.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Logan shouted as he yanked his arm away from her. “Don’t act like you fuckin’ care for us now. You came to kill me,” Logan growled in her face.

“I didn’t come to kill you, I came to weaken you. A-And I know that’s not better, but- You know how this life goes,” y/n said, making Logan chuckle.

“You had a choice,” Logan said, which she did, for this mission. She wouldn’t for any other. “You know I didn’t. I-I probably still don’t,” she said.

“Then leave — I won’t follow, just fucking leave,” Logan said through his teeth, mocking what she said a couple of days ago.

The face he gave looked serious, but he wasn’t anywhere near. He just needed y/n to get the fuck out of here before things got bad. She has no power, and they wouldn’t kill Mariko. She and Logan would be the only ones in danger.

“A-Are you serious?” She asked low with a crack in her voice. “Do you see me stuttering?” The man said, making y/n’s face twitch with different expressions.

She knows they don’t know each other, but the hint Logan has been giving and the way he fucked her that day — She thought her care about her at least a little, but her stilling her to fuck off.

“Logan, I don’t think she should-“ Mariko tried saying but Logan turned around and grabbed her arm, pulling Mariko away to go fight.

Y/n stayed behind, standing in the street as her eyes began to water. Logan could smell it. He felt horrible, but he can’t show it. He had to leave her. There was no other way.

“You don’t need her anymore, you need me. So fight me!” Logan shouted as he brought out his claws. Mariko’s grandfather had finally revealed himself after Logan told him he knew he was alive.

“Who told you it was me?” The old man asked, genuinely wanting to know. He began saying names until he stopped at y/n, seeing the way Logan’s eye twitched.

Y/n had only me ruin her name to Mariko, but he over heard. He was curious, but that might’ve put her in danger.

“Oh, y/n — She’s a wonderful soul. Kind and obedient, but too pretty to send on a mission against the Wolverine, I see,” the old man said, lightly feeling the tension between Logan and just her name.

“You leave her alone,” Logan said, making the man chuckle. “Now, why would I do that? She works for me. She means nothing to you,”

Logan had gotten pissed off from his comment, so he attacked him. The two started fighting as Mariko tried thinking and looking around for ways to stop her grandfather.

Y/n had followed the two from a distance earlier today. Now she’s hiding behind objects, hoping Logan would win the fight he’s in right now, but he’s struggling against the man in the metal suit.

Y/n quickly ran over to the computer section she had scanned for. His suit had to be connected to something right?

“Y/n!?” Mariko yelled as she ran over to her, surprised at her appearance. She shouldn't be here. She knows her grandfather will kill her if she sees she’s snooping around, and going against him.

“Don’t worry, I’m just doing the right things,” y/n said, trying in the computers to shut anything down that was on. “You’re a good woman, y/n. Go help, Logan. I’ve got this,” she said.

Y/n nodded her head before she ran towards where the two were fighting. They had fallen down a couple of stories, so she ran down those stairs until she made eye contact with him. The silver samurai.

“Well, look who’s come back. Couldn’t abandon your old man?” The older man asked as he threw Logan across the room. “Logan!” Y/n shouted, seeing how weak the man was.

“You’re pathetic. Worthless! I send you on a mission, and betray me — Do you know what I do to traitors!?” The older man asked as Logan slowly looked up, seeing who the old man was roaming to, and once he did, his eyes widened.

“Y-Y/n,” he said low as he tried to get up, but he slipped, legs feeling weak and his ribs in pain. “I show no mercy,” the silver samurai said before he lunged at y/n slicing her clean across her stomach before she could react.

“No!” Logan shouted, trying to gain strength but his regenerating powers were weakened and slowed than usual. The silver samurai was prepared for tonight.

Y/n tried fighting, grabbing a sword that was on the floor, but it was soon taken from her. The old man used it, stabbing the young lady through her stomach.

Y/n gasped, hands falling down as she looked into the man’s eyes. “You were a good assassin while it lasted. May you pass and do better in the next life,” was the last thing the old man said before he pulled the sword out.

Y/n fell to the ground, slumped and gushing blood she thought she could stop, but her hands were too weak to lift. She couldn’t move.

“No!” Logan yelled, voice growling as his eyes darkened. The man’s claws came out as his veins popped throughout his whole body. With one loud animalistic yell, the man ran towards the old man in the suit.

Logan felt bad at first for what he was about to do, but y/n was innocent. He was an innocent young lady who grew up, forced to think she had to work for the older man.

Logan let all of his anger out and finished the grandfather off, throwing him out of the tower they were fighting in. His suit broke apart as it hit the ground way below.

Logan huffed and puffed, still feeling anger until he snapped back into reality, thinking of y/n. He quickly turned around and ran to the wounded lady on the cold ground.

“Y/n,” the man said as he dropped to his knees. His hands instantly pressed down on her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Get help! Now!” Logan yelled at Mariko who looked down at him from upstairs.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me! It’s gonna be okay, okay? Hey, it’s alright,” the man couldn’t stop speaking as he watched the girl's head move and mouth part. She wanted to speak, but couldn’t.

“Take your time, what is it? C‘mon, Bub, just get it out. What is it?” He asked as one of his hands came to her cheek to keep her head steady. Her eyes met his, allowing her to see how glossy they were.

“I- sorry,” she choked, feeling like this would’ve never happened if she had just kept her mouth shut or told the princess about what her grandfather had planned. Y/n was in the middle of it all and stayed quiet for her master.

Y/n’s eyes slowly began to close, making Logan's heart speed up. “N-No - No, y/n — Y/n, no!” The man slapped her face, but she couldn’t stay up anymore.

Months passed, and Logan did everything he could to keep y/n up and running, making sure she ate what she had to, drank what she had to, walked as much as she had to, and rested as much as she had to.

Y/n would argue with him almost every day about it, crying into his chest about how hard it was living like this. Living slowly and not being able to train like she used to every day.

“You were forced to train. Now you can finally rest — By me,” was something Logan would say all the time to call her down.

Thankfully, y/n was now fully recovered. She apologized to the man many times about how she acted towards him while she was healing. All he did was laugh at the girl as he told her he was fine and never felt any different about her.

“They’re gone,” Logan spoke, breaking the silence between the two after she had woken up from a long nap. Today was day one of her full recovery, and she looked as beautiful as ever.

“Yeah — All thanks to you,” Y/n smiled as his hands tiptoed around her half-naked body. The panties and bra set he gave her were cute, and she decided to wear them to sleep last night, not thinking she’d wake up to him right next to her.

“It’s all you, Bub — You’re stronger than you think,” he said, making her giggle. “And how would you know that, mister Wolverine?” She asked, making a low chuckle slip from his mouth.

“You healed me,” he said after the seconds of laughter between the mouth. “Come again?” She asked the man. “You healed me — Saved me from being in the gutter. It takes a strong person to the that. A strong human, and you’ve managed to do that when we first met,”

Y/n shyly smiled at the man, not knowing what to say. “You know, I can’t let that go, right?” He said. “Let what go?” She asked. “Let you go — I worked my ass to keep you well. For me. Of course for your own self but — Y/n, I need you,”

Y/n’s hands stopped stroking the man’s hair at the shocking words. She thought this might only be a fling, but apparently, he thought otherwise.

“I’ve been alone and hurt for too long, carrying around anger, and beating myself up, but when I’m with you- It seems to all go away. You make me feel whole — I need you,”

“A-Are you sure it’s not just some attachment issue-“ she tried saying, but he cut her off with a long kiss, hoping she’d get his serious this situation was for him.

“Ain’t no issue, Bub — Just you,” Logan said, hoping she wouldn’t turn the old man around. “Logan — We’re so different,” Y/n said, but Logan didn’t care.

The man’s hand traveled to her face, cupping and rubbing at it. “Don’t turn me down, Bub — Please,” the man’s voice came out low. She could tell this was a huge jump for him.

“I — I could never turn you down, Logan,” she smiled, as his eyes widened. “Thank god,” Logan quickly hovered over the young lady as he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her roughly and sweetly.

“You gon quit that assassin shit for me, Bub? Can’t have you goin’ out endangering yourself,” Logan began nibbling along the girl's cheek and neck. “I retired,” y/n giggled.

“Good girl,” the man continued kissing down her body, hooking his fingers on her panties until he ripped them off. “Need this pretty girl safe and sound,” the man smirked down at y/n as she looked up at him.

It didn’t take long for Logan to have the young girl squirming and whining his name as he repeatedly hit her right spot.

“Mhm hm — Right there? Gettin’ to the right spot?” He asked, making her nod with a cry. “R-Right there,” her hands wrapped around the man’s neck.

“Gonna be good for me, and cum?” The man could feel her tightening around her every second. “Y-Yes,” was all she said before she came around him with a shake.

The growl he let out buried inside of her head. He couldn’t get enough of her. “Treatin’ an old man so good — Gotta keep you forever,” the man said in the crook of her neck, rolling his hips just right.

“Ain’t never lettin’ you go,”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

[sublimacje]

Things that made me happy (or sad) from The Chosen s4

Calling Simon Peter! – man, chills, literally chills.

And the Matthew and Jesus talk. I liked how Matthew was open with his emotions and then learned something from it.

Jesus' words: I make people what they aren't. Yes, Jesus, please make me what I'm not. Only You are able to.

This being said – Matthew apologizing to Peter and then Simon Peter forgiving Matthew. A m a z i n g. The hug? Te relief on Matthew's face? The Peter's growth? I can see him being a leader.

Jesus always noticing the rejected ones – the blind man. Sure, he had friends (they were talking with Jesus) but the way he was sitting on stairs to the Temple and nobody gave him a second glance, but Jesus did.

I've never been to a wedding banquet, but I'm on my way to one. and then You wouldn't get it. These are your last words?

Some comic relief scenes: poor Matthew not understanding some things (and I get it, believe me, I do) as Andrew telling him he should write request on paper to speak with Peter or lifting his hand when pharisee asked who's writing Jesus' words down. Or Nathaniel? This man is hilarious. Not wanting to be chaperon for Thomas and Remah but telling John he won't be reliabe one to do it himself. Or questioning other followers' skills with pomegranates. Idk, I was laughing so hard.

Gaius. Oh my. I don't even know where to start. I loved his story. I loved how big his faith was. I loved how he cared about Matthew from the very begining. And he wanted to go to Jerusalem for Passover! I wonder how he'll react to news about Jesus dying... I know we don't have some things in The Bible, but do you think Jesus is going to reveal Himself to Gaius after resurrection? I hope He will.

Also I liked how the side characters of the story (like Yussif and Jair) were willing to protect Jesus even when they knew that He was Almighty God. They were sweet. They really loved Jesus.

Jesus with Romans!!! Oh my- This was His teaching in a nutshell. And Romans faces when Jesus told them they go further with them and how they started to take their things back form the disciples.

Matthew being ever the gentleman and taking heavy bacpack, so Mary won't have to carry it. I loved it. Also, can we talk about their meeting after years? And Matthew brave: still unusually pleasant to look at. That was very cute.

Showing Jesus as a human (His words to Mother Mary: also a human) and His frustration, anxiety and fear. I think it's very important to remember that He was a God as He was a human. And this is such a mystery to me? That God decided that He wanted to be one of us. Oh how much He has to love us!!!

PAUL MENTIONED.

Judas, ah, Judas... I think he really loved Jesus, but he didn't truly understand His teaching... I'm really sorry for Judas...

Grieving Thomas. As I already wrote once: I liked that writers decided to show us that following Jesus doesn't mean we always get what we're asking for. And this is sad and hard, but this is how it is. I don't always understand God's timing, too. But I think that following Jesus never ment to be easy peasy lemon squeezy. As in this meme, you know: it's difficult difficult lemon difficult.

I laughed when Yussif said that pharisee were furious because of Lazarus coming from the death and Lazarus' respond: Oh, I'm sorry. I'll try not to die next time.

Matthew confused: Do you REALLY want us to steal a burro for you?

Quintus. Do you think he's gonna be centurion with a spear? I mean, on the The Chosen s4 poster we see spears behind Quintus...

[yatima]

A propos of nothing in particular I wanna talk about Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake from my other favorite TV show, M*A*S*H. Henry was based on a historical person who seems to have been pretty shitty, and in the sitcom he starts out as a terrible leader and kind of a hateful jerk. Over time, though, he demonstrates competence, shows real growth and, thanks to a terrific performance from a gifted actor, becomes a beloved character.

In the final episode of the third season, Henry gets his much-wanted honorable discharge from the Army and is given a hilariously chaotic send-off from his unit in Korea. Just as we think he's going to be safe for the rest of his life in Bloomington, Illinois, Radar comes into the OR and speaks the words that are engraved on my HEART: "Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors."

My God. People were SO MAD at the showrunners. Henry worked so hard! He went through so much! He deserved an endless retirement full of fishing! He didn't deserve a random awful sudden death! We loved him and how he interacted with all the other characters and we missed him for the rest of the show!

My God if the rest of that show wasn't immeasurably changed and improved. After Henry died for real, everything had stakes. Profound tone-shift from wacky hijinks to still incredibly funny but character-driven and insightful. Frank and Margaret went from flat caricatures to - well, at least in Margaret's case - one of the best and most complex women on TV at the time. (Team Let Frank Be Trans can still win.) The shallow nihilism that the early seasons shared with the novel and the film was replaced by a hard-earned melancholy that set the comedy in high relief. Henry's death underscored one of the most memorable exchanges in the show, that came two entire seasons later:

Hawkeye: War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.

Father Mulcahy: How do you figure that, Hawkeye?

Hawkeye: Easy, Father. Tell me, who goes to Hell?

Father Mulcahy: Sinners, I believe.

Hawkeye: Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chock full of them — little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.

M*A*S*H isn't just a show about war. It didn't just define the modern workplace comedy, it did so by making the point that the modern workplace is where most of us viewers spend our lives trying to reckon with the violent empire in which we are embedded. At its best, M*A*S*H showed us that the resistance lives and endures in pockets of unconditional love and mutual aid.

Henry wasn't being punished for anything, and his death wasn't a statement on the part of the writers that people like him don't deserve to live. The writers loved Henry too. People, unfortunately, die. We are all going to die (cue Sufjan Steven's Fourth of July), some of us old and surrounded by people who love us, and some of us way too young and unfairly and not infrequently as a direct consequence of the aforementioned violent empire. The randomness and cruelty of it is what makes love and resistance so utterly necessary and beautiful.

Rest in peace, you lovable jerk.

[hiddensideoflife]

Moon Conjunct Other Planets

The Moon is an important planet in Astrology as it represents the “complete mind.”  While Mercury is described as the intellect or conscious mind, the Moon often signifies the subconscious mind, correlating with our overall happiness.  It also represents the mother in a birth chart.  The Sun, which represents the soul, brings light to the entire universe, while the Moon reflects the Sun’s life-giving energy on the Earth, so the Moon needs the Sun.  It does not act independently.  On a spiritual/metaphysical level, you can look at this as the mind would not exist on this plane without the soul.  Sun often represents the father, and Moon often represents the mother.  The egg and the sperm come together to create life as we know it.  The Moon is represented in Vedic literature as the god Soma, who expresses a more feminine energy.  The Moon is known for providing life because it controls nature by nurturing it and encouraging growth.  In fact, some ancient texts speak of an elixir called Soma that was able to grant the gods immortality.  The Moon also controls death and rebirth, giving it the ability to also destroy life apart from being able to sustain it. 

To decipher the quality of the Moon in a birth chart one must not only look at what sign, Lunar Mansion (Nakshatra) and pada it is placed, but combustion, if it is under any aspects of other plants and finally whether the moon was waxing or waning at birth is important.  Once all of this has been studied, just know that none of it means that one cannot have a fruitful and successful life.  It means that this is what we were born with.  If the Moon is under strife or has malefic tendencies it might mean that the native’s ability to handle the ups and downs in life is hindered or that the relationship with the mother or even others is more difficult.  A waxing moon is more outgoing while a waning moon in a chart is more inward and pensive.  Purity of mind is important for self-realization and spirituality, however, going beyond the mind is where this transformation is most beneficial as the main faculties of the mind secure a material or physical level of success or enjoyment even if it is seen as more positive in a chart.  Success and enjoyment are not bad; however, too much indulgence often creates attachment, which in the end tends to be the cause of much suffering.  Considering this information, let’s look at the Moon conjunct other planets:

Moon and Sun Conjunction- This is considered a New Moon.  This life is about new beginnings and perhaps creating new karma from one’s experiences.  New Moon up to the halfway point is waxing and considered to be more outgoing, expansive, and adventurous.  This is when the Moon and the Sun are either at the same degree or extremely close to it.  Think of two present healthy parents providing balance to a native.  This person may feel clear mentally and emotionally and able to make decisions about life with ease.  The emotional and subconscious mind is aligned completely with the conscious mind and rational mind.  You may exhibit strength, courage and authority while at the same time being able to come across as nurturing, compassionate and understanding.  House placement, sign and aspects can alter the interpretation of this conjunction completely.

Moon and Mercury Conjunction- This is intellect and the conscious mind with emotion and the subconscious mind.  In Hindu mythology, Mercury is the son of the god Soma.  Soma had Mercury with Tara, (Jupiter) Brihaspati’s wife.  This is a tale of drama for another post.  Soma cares for his son, Mercury, but Mercury (Buddha) does not feel the same way about Soma.  This is why in planetary interpretation, the Moon is friendly towards Mercury, while Mercury is not so friendly towards the Moon.  Think of it this way, Mercury is like the playboy Prince who wants to try many things and go from one thing to the next.  The Moon and its emotions might be a bit sticky in Mercury’s eyes, making the energy question itself too much.  This might make a native change their mind a lot and feel a bit unsettled.  The planet with the lower degree will control the conjunction so if the Moon has the lower degree, it may be best to meditate and practice mindfulness and patience when it comes to decision-making.  If Mercury has the lower degree, it may lend itself to more of an emotional intelligence and an intuitive ability to network or connect with people.  You may be the person that remembers everyone’s birthday or that brings awareness of emotions to your business, work or partnerships.  In either case, the native is likely to think through their feelings and try to understand the why behind them. 

Moon and Venus Conjunction- Venus represents refinement and desires.  Though the Moon and the Sun come together, and we think of the sperm and the egg in that scenario, Venus is the planet that represents procreation and semen, which explains why Venus is the spouse in a chart.  It also represents the material aspects of life- business, relationships in general, wealth, luxury, arts, photography, etc.  The Moon is often seen as an enemy of Venus.  Though Venus can give us what we desire, it does not mean that we will be happy with this once we get it!   On the one hand, we have already described how the Moon is pleasure seeking.  After all, the Moon had 27 wives which is why the Moon is said to travel through the 27 Lunar Mansions in the sky for 2-2 ½ days at a time (The Lunar Phases).  The Moon’s favorite Nakshatra is said to be Rohini which lies completely in Taurus.  Taurus is ruled by Venus, but Rohini is ruled by the Moon.  In Taurus the Moon is exalted.   This might be where the two experience common ground.  So, it goes without saying that this conjunction could go either way.  The Moon is more about emotional fulfillment and satisfaction with the subconscious mind.  Venus does not guarantee this and is more about receiving and achieving material things, which may be expressed more so in Libra.  If a soul with this Venus and Moon conjunction gets the heart’s desire through marriage, as an example, Venus does not guarantee that the spouse will be emotionally supportive, loving or devoted.  People with this conjunction need to be very careful about what they desire.  Meditate and think through goals and encounters.  Enjoy them yes, but not everything and everyone will always be great for our emotional or overall well-being. 

Moon and Mars Conjunction- Can you say explosive energy?! The soldier has met the nurturer.  This is like the defeated warrior complex that some describe when Mars is in the Moon’s zodiac sign Cancer.  Fire and water create steam.  In some ways this can be positive as it can lend itself to a more peaceful and loving person.  On the other hand, this person might come with a very strong, domineering energy.  Depending on what situation the person is in, that could be great, and the courage can be positive for difficult situations in war, obstacles within a sports game or career as well as someone who is the head of group that is intended to exert a lot of energy and strength.  In relationships and on the personal front, as well as when it comes to making more logical decisions, this might be an issue because this person might be a ticking time bomb.  Instinctive responses to circumstances at times is needed but really working through a way to think first and work through emotions prior to responding over time will likely benefit the native with this conjunction.  Depending on where the placement is and in whose chart, it could make a native a more masculine female or a woman who identifies as gender non-conforming or who others might call a “tomboy.”

Moon and Jupiter Conjunction- This is a positive, happy combination.  These people exert the “positive vibes” only mantra or it may be a person who thrives in manifestation or affirmations.  They may easily have a positive mindset or be able to think highly about the future and the circumstances around them.  Jupiter, being so comfortable here especially at its degree of exaltation (5 degrees) may bless the native with knowledge and wisdom that is more spiritual or philosophical.  At the same time, this person needs to be realistic as well as positive.  The tendency may be to avoid being real as it comes across to the person as being negative.  Trying to get a more balanced perspective on situations will help this native to balance their positive outlook with the reality of the circumstances that present themselves in their lives. 

Moon and Saturn Conjunction- The Moon may be under stress with Shani (Saturn) here or this person blends emotional resilience into their realistic perspective on life.  This is the conjunction that exemplifies the mid-point of the 7-year transit called Sade Sati in Vedic Astrology.  This is when Saturn is transiting, 12th from the Moon, then with the Moon (in conjunction) and then the 2nd house from the Moon.  Since Saturn is usually in a sign for 2 ½ years, these three transits add up to approximately 7 years.  During this period, people tend to suffer psychologically and emotionally.  The Moon is about enjoying life and pleasure, while Saturn is about working hard, staying humble and getting hit with the harsh realities of life.  People with this conjunction can either be extremely levelheaded and realistic about life because they are used to working hard at the same time even if they accept that they must work hard, they may present as more cynical due to a rough childhood or series of obstacles throughout life.  They may go through seasons of depression or withdrawal because Saturn may continue to remind them not to get too comfortable with pleasure and the way things are.

Moon and Rahu Conjunction- Some Astrologers believe the Moon is afraid of Rahu. Rahu is one part of Svarbhanu, the demon.  Rahu inflates anything that it encounters.  This could be a great thing depending on the sign as this might mean an enhanced intellect or hunger for knowledge or thirst for wisdom.  But when Rahu comes in contact with the Moon it acts like an eclipse, creating sometimes what could be irrational fears and a strange relationship with the mother.  Strange in the sense that the native may follow whatever the mother or motherly figures say as golden.  Or the mother may be prone to deluding the native. This can be with false promises or as was already mentioned, giving incorrect information. In some cases, this information might be great, but as we know, not all things that mothers say are wise and beneficial.  Rahu can also enhance the qualities of moodiness, the tendency to be clingy and stubborn.  Rahu also might make the native feel insatiable causing the tendency to overeat or hoard material comforts.  Some remedies that can be helpful are yoga, meditation and visiting places that have bodies of water.  Being near the water may help to calm or soothe the mind.  Listening to meditative music and making sure one’s living quarters are clean, light in color or white can have a more calming effect as well. 

Moon and Ketu Conjunction- In a less evolved soul, this conjunction might feel like a native is a walking dichotomy.  The Moon is about pleasure and enjoyment of the material world, while Ketu is about renunciation of the material world to find self-realization or moksha.  This might manifest as issues with the mother or an ability to connect with the past and see into its issues.  This could be one’s past life, childhood, or several years ago.  You may exhibit or experience premonitions, foresight or other psychic abilities.  To fully harness these abilities, one must let go of emotional issues and deficits that may be due to neglect or abandonment in familial or personal relationships.  The unhappiness tends to make the energies more difficult to bear and could make the native turn to self-destructive behaviors to mask the pain through substances and addiction.  Meditation, mantras, journaling, affirmations and above all letting go of the past will help a soul transcend this energy to its maximum potential. 

Moon and Neptune Conjunction- This is a more sensitive, intuitive or witty mind.  This person can be a master magician, artist, writer, comedian or even one who loves Tarot, Astrology or psychic readings.  Perhaps there is a love of space, other worldly themes or subjects.  This person may need an enormous time alone to be with their own thoughts as they may absorb other people’s energy, feelings and thoughts very easily.  House placement is key to see which people.  This combination could also manifest into a escapist.  Perhaps this person escapes to numb themselves from societal pain or to just be alone and to enjoy the silence. 

Moon and Uranus Conjunction- This is another combination that could go in so many directions, probably more so than any other combination because Uranus is an unpredictable planet.  One thing about Uranus is it loves to stand up for the people and for the people’s rights or it is a planet that is very similar to its ruling sign Aquarius.  It just likes to go its own way, and it needs to be on its own path to figure it out.  This could range from creating a revolution against an establishment or simply a native that does their own thing.  This is obviously very opposite of the homely Moon energy.  People with this position might experience cognitive dissonance or extreme dichotomies in relationships as the desire to stay and make it work may be hampered with the desire for change and to see what else is out there in terms of experiences, partners, knowledge or sights.  It does not necessarily mean that one cannot be in a committed relationship.  It might require a more understanding partner and someone who provides the native with a lot of space.  Relationships may be unorthodox due to the native’s needs.  It could be that the native experiences this with their mother and the mother leaves or at some point is far from them, or it could mean that the mother stays around, but has an unconventional way of raising the native that is different from what is around the person growing up.   The person having this conjunction definitely has a different way of thinking about life than the people that surround them.  Sign and house placement will give a better idea. 

Moon and Pluto Conjunction- This combination creates a mind that is destined to experience constant transformation.  It could mean that the native’s mother is said to constantly go through this as well.  This could also create many power struggles in relationships.  Either the native is constantly taken advantage of or is constantly dominating or overpowering others.  People with this combination might have a lot of pain from traumatic childhoods with narcissistic caregivers that were manipulative, controlling or both.  There is a need to develop a lot of self-awareness so that the native can begin to understand where they end and where others begin.  Journaling and hypnotherapy can be helpful, but some natives with this placement may find a tendency to attract the wrong therapists, healers or life coaches.  This can create a very psychic and powerful mind, similar to the Ketu and Moon conjunction, but an ability to face one’s own inner demons while figuring out the external ones can be quite the challenge.  Transcendence and letting go might be the only peace this native can ever truly get from the psychological and emotional battles that this conjunction might give. 

Moon and Chiron Conjunction- This combination can create a very traumatic or awkward relationship with the mother.  You may love her, but there is a way that she can wound you based on what she says or does that no one else can.  This also may bring a void or wound from the mother’s family, childhood or the people who raised the native.  This can be a very sensitive, caring mind that desires to help others and animals almost to the point of smothering at times.  This person may find it difficult to share their feelings or emotions with others due to fear of rejection or lack of understanding.  This might be due to a feeling of needing to be perfect or a certain way growing up or perhaps the native felt the need to suppress their emotions as a child.  Chiron is a very subtle energy. For a soul that is less aware, it may take an extreme situation to be made aware of this void or wound that the individual is carrying. Some Astrologers insist that this is essentially how Chiron’s wound manifests. And due to its sensitive nature, it is not something we can shake easily, so trying to evolve quickly might not be realistic. The pain that we experience may end up being what we need to feel in order to understand the medicine that helps us to heal slowly. However, it’s what we feel during the pain, that could be a part of what the Universe will need to extract from us that helps us fulfill our karmas and destiny.

Namaste…

[evelynpr]

bakugou for the character ask game?

Truly the teenage boy, shonen deuteragonist, love interest coded, gay asshole, of all time.

My first impression - Woah I did not understand why people were so into this guy. Like I get it, he's a flawed and loud pretty boy, he gets character development, and probably gay, but seriously him??? His mouth is so fucking foul and he is so up his ass. - I was meh with this character, enjoyed him in fan content, but just did not get why people were sooo into this guy.

My impression now - I cried in "Light Fades To Rain". Twice. - My god his growth...his will, his persistence, and by god his love for Izuku is so ridiculous and powerful I just cannot help but admire the little shithead. - He is also a lot more to me than I expected, with the whole "foul mouth shit", "high expectations bullshit", "violent urges", and "dedicating your whole life and love to someone you love and admire" and that...that makes me feel quite conflicted.

Favorite thing about that character - The thing about Bakugou is that...you just cannot help but wish you had the same kind of persistence, strength, will, and power that he does. I love how all this is initially so shallow and selfish, then grows to wanting to be a better and truer hero. He really learns and changes and is just an unstoppable force of nature, it's genuinely incredible and beautiful to watch.

Least favorite thing - I wished that the overall writing did go harder in making him stop bad-mouthing people and...everything so much. You can tell he did grow to respect and care for people around him more, but by gods he is sooo bad at communicating his feelings right now. (tbf, he is so fucking young and traumatized) - Also, really please stop hitting people. I get a knee-jerk reaction to that kind of physical violence sometimes ngl.

Favorite line/scene - There are so many. I already mentioned his death in "Light Fades to Rain" so I'll mention a different one - Team Bakugou in Class A vs B was so goddamn good, for being a monumental milestone of his character. How much he trusted his teammates and put himself in danger to save others, winning in the end. No injuries, no failures, truly a perfect beautiful victory. How he also pushes Deku to keep getting better afterwards in his usual constipated-ass language too. Man I just love that battle to death.

Favorite interaction that character has with another - (me pulling out scenes that aren't bkdk centered here hahaha) - I fucking LOVED the Bakugou vs Ochako fight. It made me love Ochako so so much as a kid. I really wished we had a follow-up to that battle, and it genuinely changed my life. - I love how it really shows just how focused and rational he is in battle. How he truly respects his opponents, Ochako in this case, and the sports festival really establishes so much about him.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more - Speaking of which...OCHAKO VS BAKUGO 2 COME ONNNN - There is SO MUCH these two need to talk about. How to save people, who they want to save, who saved them, never underestimating each other, how they changed and grew. I just love these two characters to bits, that's why I need them to FIGHT AND TALK SO BADDDD - Additional: Also Toga (see my post on Toga right before this one lmao), Shoto (because I still don't really get their friendship but its hilarious, and I love Shoto)

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character - I legit cannot think of anything here...like for Toga...I am so sorry my brain is blanking T__T - It's hard to be a massive anger-issue filled, victory-focused, die for their lover (twice), amazing chef, all at once, kinda guy...you know?

A headcanon about that character - I am a believer in trans!fem Bakugo in the future. He's so ridiculously angry for some reason, voice always cracking, and just on-edge for some reason. Idk I just think its hilarious and satisfying if he transed his gender in the future and became happier and more comfortable.

A song that reminds of that character - I also have a Bkdk playlist in the making! Here's some bkg focused songs in character development order: - Boys will be Bugs, President Perfect, Top of my School, Oh No!, I'm Gonna Win, The Last of the Real Ones, Skyfall, Die For You, Set Fire to the Rain

An unpopular opinion about that character - Like Toga, he actually isn't possessive. I think he quite well understands and accepts that Izuku is a very loving person that many people are easily drawn to (I mean, he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't understand that). - He is protective instead of possessive. He keeps an eye out for anything and anyone who could possibly actually hurt Izuku, but he doesn't hold him back at all in hanging around with others, and when other people fall for Izuku either. - He is actually quite skinny, and doesn't have the big thick buff guy build. Those go to Izuku and Iida more imo.

Favorite picture - I never really thought of this much??? I love art of him being softer, more solemn, quiet and contemplative even. I guess I'll go pick out some favs right now...

Here they are! Hope you enjoy the post lmao

[galactic-rhea]

irt your latest midi-chlorian/mitochondria post - what do you think would happen to him??? :0

See, this is why I shouldn't make that type of posts sleep deprived and away from home in a college field trip in which we were in four different states on a single day.

This is the post anon is referring to

Logically (now that my mind is more clear) the answer should be that he would die, if it's severe enough as how the analog fungicide i mentioned worked lol

See, the fungicide I was rambling around forces the rRNA to malfunction and thus the nucleus stops producing certain proteins needed for the cell. And is just deathly, there are certain fungi that can handle that better, if the application of that fungicide isn't consistent and thus they become resistent, but fungi are impressive organism that can multiply faster and live on incredible conditions, given that they have like, at the very least, three different types of spores (there are ascomycetes that have like 6-7 different spores through their cycle).

But allas, back to my favorite deranged blorbo.

That's stright up a death sentence for anyone, really. But especially for Anakin who has only half of human genetic material and the other half is just the force. With me theory about the midi-chlorians being the mithocondria equivalent, Anakin would be on such a perilous spot between dying on the spot and being basically a pseudo-god, because he has so many midichlorians in his cells that his cells are dying at an extre rate, but he needs the midichlorians to be able to live (and handle) that much power flowing through him due the force. This hypothetical scenario would break this balance to the core, and even if a normal person could survive until reaching an hospital and being given a diagnosis, Anakin could probably drop death on the spot, like I said, is cellular death and growth must be on record time, and this could be helpful with other ailments.

But with the midichlorian failling him and not enough energy because the new midichlorian would be failing as well, there's a chance that The Force would kill him, the equivalent of overheating or when a lightning strikes and you get too much electricity on a single lightbulb.

HOWEVER, to make this interesting and because let's be real, this is fricking Star Wars and this is fricking Anakin I-Survived-More-Deathly-Accidents-Than-I-Can-Count-Skywalker, let's pretend this midichlorian killer chemical isn't as effective as the analog fungicide I was talking about, it doesn't affect ALL of the midichlorians, but just a few to get our good-and then evil-and then good again-boy.

Whump makers take note, please:

It would depend, honestly, but generally speaking, it would mean he's out of all that supply of energy he uses the keep going. He would get something akin to chronic fatigue, momentarily he's all righty, and then of all sudden lifting a pencil is too much.

Being so strong in the force, but without the biological resources to handle it, he would like, pass out after using the force. Meditating could be the equivalent to ask him if he wants to go into comma. If he already felt cold, he's about to start shaking just by going out, this boy has not enough glycogen storage.

But that's the best of the diagnosis, the worst ones are if this affects the neuronal and nervous system cells. I mentioned briefly that an excess of ATP was linked to autism, ADHD, ocd, and other neurogivergencies, and even neurodegenerative diseases and dementia.

Well, the lack of ATP can do this as well, so there's that.

To name some few, very general ones:

-Epilepsy and seizures

-Vision loss, audition loss or auditory hallucinations.

-Disorientation

-Muscular pain.

-Headaches.

-Problems with reflexes like swallowing or breathing.

-Vomits.

-Accelerated (even more, in Anakin's case) cellular death.

-Loss of hair and muscular mass.

Given that in this second scenario, the midichlorians-killer hypothetical chemical isn't as effective and wouldn't case an inmediate death, then Anakin's fast healing qualitys would actually be super duper helpful then, it would be great to compare his healthy cells with the sick ones. In this case, I bet a doctor would be more than eager to take a sample of Anakin's stem cells.

He would be a great lab rat for both the hypothetic evil mad scientist, AND for the eager doctors looking for a treatement and cure, and since this is a chemical and we're on a far far away galaxy, I'm pretty sure the cure would be not-too-hard to find.

Oh gosh I didn't expect to write this much, sorry for that anon, but I hope this satisfied you curiosity? ^^;