#tw: derogatory language

[antinous-of-ithaca]

Open roleplay starter: Hold Them Down

Planning was not something he liked. He usually just went ahead and did whatever came into his mind and took it as a base. But he really couldn't do that now, could he?

Antinous had been eavesdropping on the conversations amongst the nobles, hearing their schedules, the upcoming events between kingdoms.. but none of them seemed like the moment to strike. There was always something that could go wrong.

Until that day. A diplomatic mission for the young prince while the rest of the nobles were entertained by some sort of dinner. That would be his chance. And what was even better, Penelope had recently given them a challenge.. which had only made them frustrated. Everything seemed to align so.. perfectly.

After watching every single suitor fail at their attempt of stringing that ancient bow (which he thought was going break after 2 attempts), he stood up. As usual, they expected him to say something; he was their voice, the only one who dared voice his thoughts without regard of who he might hurt by doing so.

"Screw this damn competition, we've been here for.. what? Hours? It's obvious we can't string that thing."

Antinous spoke up, playing with his dagger as his eyes darted around the room. His breath still had that scent of wine, despite having been sober for a week or two now.

"Fuck this damn challenge. We don't have to accept any more delays from her.. can't you see she's just playing with us?"

He asked the rest, watching their expressions change at the thought of being deceived by a woman, no less. He knew them to well.. just enough to make them upset about the whole thing.

Though, as he stepped closer to the center of the room, he began getting second thoughts.. he quickly suppresed them, knowing it was too late already.

"This is how Penelope is holding us down, like we are no better than animals. She's waiting until the prince is finally considered fit to rule. Where the hell is our pride and rage?! Where did our domain over this situation go?!"

His steps were calculated, he had planned this for weeks and he was not willing to let it all go to waste because of a miscalculation. Soon enough, he found himself in front of one of the tables in the middle of the room. He didn't even bother asking the rest to move, he just pushed through them and got on the table, just to make sure all 107 suitors could hear him speak. Despite feeling nervous as fuck, he tried to play confident as always.

@the-epic-amphinomus @sonofpolybus @bright-side-of-the-moon-tele @penelope-is-waiting @thetorturedsuitor

[penelope-is-waiting]

*she looks very confused but nods and helps him to his room*

Open RP Starter: Drunk?

[Antinous was sitting on the floor, a large glass of wine in his hand, and was babbling nonsense. There were papers sprawled out on the floor, and empty bottles stacked into a neat tower in the corner. What in the hell happened here?]

//taglist! uh just some folks I think might wanna interact, ask if you wanna be added or removed!!

@the-true-telemachus @bright-side-of-the-moon-tele @childofkindness @god-of-smithing-and-cozy-vibes @penelope-is-waiting @the-great-emperor-commodus

//idk who else,, yippee have fun good luck

[penelope-is-waiting]

https://youtu.be/2KCYYqFas90?si=0GZolKbTf1WAlG2h

My son is so smart <3

( @telemachus-of-ithaca @sillypuppetmeister )

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 30: Hiro/Dum Dum/Others--Free Use

*****

He doesn’t think he could pick out their faces in a crowd, or them his. But it doesn’t matter, as long as they all get off in the end. 

“Go on, face up Princess—let them see you.” The grip on his hair is harsh, but the sensation fades, less pressing than the onslaught of others, gazes dragging along his skin like the skim of hands. Another laughs, static crackling in their voice, cruelty audible beneath the haze. “Where’d you find the whore?” “Just wandered in, looking all lost.” 

It’s not strictly true, he’d known exactly where he was, what he wanted—knew they probably did too, a hint of familiarity, however faint. This isn’t the first time this has happened, nor will it be the last, wanting to just let himself drown—less deliberation and even less thought. He needs it, as much as he needs to breathe, a moment to turn everything else off. 

A voice, distorted but oddly familiar diverts his attention, glance traveling over cables and puckered scars, before fixing on the man’s face—seven red optics piercing him. 

“You’re back.”

His words are conversational, amusement in the way his lips curve—tone casual even as he takes in the sight, shirt balled in the corner, long forgotten—black-blue bruises dotting his shoulders, and the arch of his neck. 

“Wasn’t enough for you the first time?”

Even as he says it, he’s already closing the distance between them, cybernetics cupping his chin, grip surprisingly delicate. 

“You heard ‘em. Look at me.” 

It hurts to look at him directly, red lights blazing in the dark of the club—but he tries his best, a shudder at the harsh exhale of feedback. 

“Pretty little thing.” 

From anyone else it would sound while not innocent, affectionate—an endearment. The man makes it sound like utter filth, relishing the feeling, shame long since forgotten. A thumb traces his lips, order without words, and he obeys, accepting chrome fingers into his mouth, tongue brushing the smooth surface. The optics never leave his face, cataloging every minute detail, an appreciative hum low in his throat. 

“Bet we could find a better use for it.” **

It’s only when he’s out of the shower he notices, a quick glance over his shoulder—movement making his body ache deliciously, eyes settling on a distinct black smear, jumble of numbers and letters not quite faded, stark against pale skin. 

Dum Dum.

[the-epic-amphinomus]

The bitch that stabbed your crush is Antinous’ kid. The bastard’s gone soft

SOMEONE STABBED HER!? I mean.... who's my crush👀 BUT SERIOUSLY POINT ME IN THEIR DIRECTION NOW!

[sonofpolybus]

What do I do now?

The kid broke all the bottles od alcohol and now I've got to stay sober!

“Stay sober bitch.”

[system-of-a-feather]

I think a thing that is frustrating about neurotypicals as someone with autism and auditory / language processing issues (yet to be explicitly diagnosed to my knowledge) is how little they understand neurological differences and disabilities in processing things like hearing and yet they feel like they understand it to a sufficient level.

Case in point, today at work one ofbmy coworkers got all mad and offended because I was "rude and disrespectful" because in the morning, while thinking about the things I needed to do and thought of an important question before I could start my question to ask my mentor, asked the question and she was talking and thus I interrupted her. Yes, rude now that I KNOW she was talking and so I apologize, but I really hate the implied intent or lack of caring put with the "autistic interruption" shit

Ignoring social cues and rules aside, I *literally* didn't realize / process she was talking. Of course, I'm not deaf or HoH so I can't say that because "How could I not hear her? She was speaking loud enough to know" and there is a HUGE difference between *hearing* and *processing* and so when they always give the advise of be more considerate / think before you speak or tell you the social rule to not interript cause its rude, it doesn't help like at all

Cause yes, I KNOW that and I DO think before I speak. I just *literally* didnt process her speech as speech and it was filtered as white noise.

Its like going into a busy and loud club and saying "dont speak if the guy two tables down is talking"

Like yeah, maybe I COULD hear that he is talking among the 50000 other people talking, but Im not processing him talking as distinct from the ambient noise around me.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BBU Community Days

@bbu-on-the-side * {Day 8} Barcode

-

CW: Police harassment, derogatory/demeaning language, prostitution, implied dubcon

The asshole officer shines a flashlight right in his face, half-blinding him, and he winces and turns his face away. "What the fuck-"

"I said turn it over. Show me."

"Show you what?"

The officer sighs, sounding wearied, and the runaway pet wants to punch him in his stupid smug face. He thinks he's tired? He didn't spend the last day hiding from pouring rain that has streets flooded and people in rain boots half-wading when they have to go out. "You know what. Turn your wrist over and show me your barcode."

"I don't have to do anything." The pet's chin juts out, eyes narrowed to slits against the glare of light still aimed right at him. "Come back with a fucking warrant."

"Okay, I would, but you aren't in a house. You aren't even inside. This is an alley. This is public space and you are causing discomfort to the people who actually do live here. Come on, Boxie, wrist out. Let me see it."

"I don't have a fucking barcode. What, is it illegal to sit now? I'm just sitting. I'm not harming anyone."

The officer looks like he might just sigh so heavily with irritation that he blacks out. The pet waits, a little hopeful, but it doesn't happen. "Listen. Look. You get up and walk away, I'll pretend I never saw you. Nice people in this neighborhood, they don't want you whoring around for your dinner, got it?"

His heart stops - for just a second - before it beats again. He swallows, hard. Some of his defiance has faded before he finds a retort. "What-... What makes you think-"

"I've seen you before, buddy. Down by the warehouse district."

"Why not arrest my John?"

"Your John?"

"Well, how the hell did you think I got here from the warehouse district in the first place, numbnuts? We were having a good time til his fucking girlfriend called."

"... Jesus. Come on. Up you go, get outta here and I won't even look. Just get."

He doesn't have a choice. The runaway pushes himself uneasily to his feet, watching as the cop backs up to give him some space. There's that, at least.

His stomach growls.

When did he eat last? Shit. A day ago? Two?

The flashlight is pointed down, now, and he can see the cop's face. Honestly, he's seen worse. The guy looks pretty fit, too. And Jesus, he's so hungry...

"I don't suppose you'd give me a ride," He says, cocking his head to the side. Defiance slips into practiced seduction with only a shiver of self-loathing down his spine. "I can pay for it."

"Don't bribe me. You don't have a fucking cent or you wouldn't be a whore, Boxie."

"I didn't say I'd pay with money." He smiles, like this is a silly flirty joke between them. "Trust me, I'm good at this. I'm so good. Don't you ever wonder what fucking a Romantic is like? Like a Lamborghini with spread legs, yeah? You drive me back to the warehouse district, you don't check my barcode, and I make this the best shift you've worked in days..."

The cop thinks, jaw working, looking off to one side and then the other. The pet watches him take off his wedding ring and slip it into his pocket with a mix of triumph and hatred.

"Right. Yeah. Get in the back. We'll find a place to park."

His heart thumps and his wrist itches under the ink as he slides into the back of the squad car, with doors that don't open from the inside and a screen he can't break through. Maybe he'll be murdered and dumped in a ditch somewhere. Maybe the cop will just take him to jail.

Or maybe he really will drive him back.

It's always a roll of the dice when he offers himself for a ride.

Sooner or later he'll run out of luck.

[errrr-vent-blog]

bro about pelles wife account or whatever that could seriously be mental illness coming from a mentally ill person on the schizospectrum. like them believving pelle is in love with them is a sign of erotomania, a delusional belief in which someone is in love with them. but the best thing to do isnt to bully tgem and say "touch grass" but for them to genuinely get some help because it could be a psychotic breakdown/them experiencing delusions. im not 100% sure, but it does look alot like erotomania in my eyes (im not here to diagnose people, just saying the situation looks pretty similar to erotomania)

.

but also please stop replying to them with ableist comments. ive seen many people in their reblogs say stuff like "any sane person would know youre not dating him" or "youre delusional and insane" or "stay in lala land" which by the way id NEVER fair on a psychotic person's behalf, its still ableism and sanism and even if they say the rudest things to you it does not give you the right to be sanist. psychotic and schizospecs deserve to be treated like actual beings instead of monsters. alot of these people arent treating the situation well, and its obviously making it worse. if youwant to talk to them, dont bully them because that wont do anything. dont reality check without consent, that'll only worsen the situation. maybe ask them about pelle, listen to them, but dont reality check or feed into delusions. anyways the point is, this person isnt great but neither is your sanism.

[the-epic-amphinomus]

I just mean maybe you can try to be a suiter for one of them? Imagine ruling Sparta!

*shows antinous the trident poseidon gave him* LOOK WHAT I GOT WE'RE UNTOUCHABLE!

~ @the-epic-amphinomus

Now you gotta defend us. 'Cause there ain't no fucking way in hell we can take out the king now that he's back!

Also, it looks pretty cool, dude! Is it made out of gold?!

[doublejango]

You seem to know a lot of Goetia. Quick question. What do they smell like?

"I guess... Parak smells clean, but kind of sketchy. Vepar barely has any scent at all, which kinda freaks me out, but when I do manage to smell him, he smells... expensive?

"Stella smells so goddamn good, I wish she wasn't, you know. An evil whore.

"Andrealphus smells like tea. Like seriously, actually tea. It's actually not bad. Tea isn't really my thing, and from what I hear he can probably keep the Radio Demon away with that, but yeah. Tea. Nice tea, and sort of... I guess, ozone-y? Maybe that's all his winter magic shit.

"And Stolas..." But Blitz didn't answer about Stolas. Instead, hearts in his eyes, fully sappy smile taking over, he just got his phone out to send his baby a text.

>>u smell like home

[penelope-is-waiting]

*she leans her head on top of him trying to be comforting* I will never let her hurt you again. *she eyes "penelope"*

(penelope finds tele was sitting outside shaking from how cold it was looking like was waiting for someone) oh- hi mo-Penelope (he corrects, looking around.)

-@young-telemachus

Penelope? Excuse me?

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - nsfw, physical/psychological abuse, wildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, and derogatory language.

Most days, Bailey struggles to decide whether you're an idiot or a masochist.

He’s leaning towards the former, but it wouldn’t take much to sway him towards the latter. That doesn’t make you special on its own, though – no, most of the stupid brats in his orphanage have shit for brains and the survival instincts of pre-splattered roadkill, but you manage to make your peers look like shining pillars of intelligence and caution and all the good, important, necessary traits that you were tragic enough to be born without. If he didn’t know better, he might think that you’re doing it on purpose, that your behavior is just the product of some misplaced cry for attention. You should count yourself lucky that he’s a hell of a lot smarter than you’ll ever be.

He should’ve gotten rid of you the first time you failed to pay your rent. He should’ve, and he tried to – selling you off to the highest bidder, leaving you blindfolded in alleyways and restrained on the edge of town, but like a beaten dog too stupid to acknowledge that its master left it for dead, you always seem to drag yourself back, always bruised, most often bloody, and occasionally soaking wet. More than once, you haven’t made it all the way back, and he’s had to go out of his way to pick up ‘his precious ward’ from the intensive care unit at Harper’s request. He would leave you there, if he thought his reputation would survive giving that freak of a doctor a free lab rat.

 You can’t hold down a job. That part, he can’t entirely blame on you. If going outside is risky, then trying to earn a living is all-but a death sentence in a town like this. He knows you have a few minor gigs, pick up odd jobs every now-and-then around the wealthier neighborhoods, but it’s never more than petty cash, and having to watch you drag yourself through the orphanage halls with torn clothes and that distant, glazed-over look in your eyes almost makes what little rent money you can scrap up not worth it. You’re wary enough to keep your head down in school, so you don’t have a lot of friends, either. Most of your time is spent at home; toiling in your weed-infested garden, trying to pretend you aren’t hiding in your room, and when he lets you, curling up in the smallest, darkest corner of his office – your legs pulled into your chair and your eyes fixed on the floor. He asked, once, why you thought you had to waste your time sulking in his peripheral like some poor, attention-starving kitten. Despite help from the better half of a bottle from his vintage stash, he can still remember your answer.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, with a smile so delicate, he was almost tempted to see how easily it shattered. “I guess I just feel safe around you.”

He stopped asking for rent, after that.

He tries not to think about you. It’s a constant effort, but he tries the hardest when he’s standing in your doorway hours after midnight, fucking his fist as you pretend to sleep less than a full ten feet away. He still hasn’t made up his mind about the masochist part, but you have to be an idiot. A pretty, empty-headed idiot.

His pretty, empty-headed idiot.

He decides, as he finishes to the sound of your muffled sobbing, that he’ll soak it in while he can. Even if he does his best, even if he keeps his distance, even if you never come to your senses and run far, faraway, he knows he won’t have long left to enjoy this.

He knows that, no matter how hard he tries to hold himself back, you’re not going to feel very safe around him for much longer.

[mothcain]

Nah but let’s talk abt how ppl use disability terms/harmful stereotypes/ derogatory words so casually this disabled pride month (tw ableism below)

The new terms are “sch*zoposting” and “delulu” but shit like this has been around for years and it’s so incredibly frustrating.

Another example is those TikTok POVS about “the weird kid in class” but they are all stereotypes of autistic ppl.

Or the misuse of the word triggered, the misuse of the word OCD, the misuse of gaslighting, of cr*pple, “are you deaf?” “Are you blind?” “Hellen Keller isn’t real.” I could go on and on but I will simply say this.

Disabled people are real people with feelings, emotions and lives. We deserve to use the terms that we need to COMFORTABLY. We deserve to exist without people taking the language used in the context of ourselves and putting it in a negative light.

We deserve to exist.

We deserve happiness.

Check in on your disabled friends.

Don’t assume things about people you don’t know.

[tragcdysewn]

@mcrcki asked:📱- abigail and marley lmao

your muse’s contact name in mine’s phone

annoyance 3

my muse’s contact photo for yours

x

how often our muses text each other

same as francesca, she only has marley's number to occasionally start problems

a text my muse never sent

nope, none

the last messages my muse did send

[text: annoyance 3] - gonna complain more about how i'm a cunt? would love to hear it :)

[itskybabes-blog]

Duke Dennis Drabble

Duke Dennis x fem!reader (no face claim but poc!reader friendly)

Part two: The Confession

Disclaimer: this is written by a dyslexic person – please forgive any grammar and spelling errors

TW: swearing, drinking and using derogatory language

Plot: After your big night at an AMP pool part (that you probs won’t remember tomorrow), you finally let your lil’ secret slip.

Word count: 672

ICYMI: part one

“What the fuck am I doing?” You slurred back in confusion. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You rise up from the bed and try to point your finger at him, but stumble forward because you was unaware of your own strength. Duke has to catch you before your pearly whites were scattered all over his floor.

“See, man,” Duke whines with you in his arms, “this is what I’m talking about”.

You move out his arms and squint your eyes at him, trying to focus on all three of him at once.

“Y/N, you can’t stand up straight. You got yourself stupid drunk and started twerking on everyone. Your nipple was fucking hanging out like you’s some fucking whore or sum,” Duke rants.

“Whore?!” – you sober up real quick – “You’re calling me a whore?” you exclaim back, shoving finger quotation marks in his face.

“Meanwhile, you’re here, throwing this stupid party full of thirsty clout-chasing bimbos who only wanna suck your dick, get your Ps and cut! Fucking lodging your tongue down some random girl’s face – you’d be lucky to not have herpes, right now!” You lay into him, using whatever left over competence you have. Dutch courage is certainly real.

“Whore?” You said again, this time with a soft chuckle - which we all know is not good. Duke knows you found nothing funny but couldn’t care because “you’re a fucking embarrassment!”

“Oh my fucking gosh, more fucking names,” you said with a dramatic sigh. You begin to pace around: “What else am I? A slut? A bitch? What else am I, Duke? Tell me!”

You end up in a couple centimetres away from Duke with a face full of fire and push him weakly (pathetically) away from her. His look of disgust softens – maybe he was being a little harsh.

So, he takes the punk move: “You know what, I don’t care. This is not even worth it, man. Fucking drunk!”

That one snapped a heartstring. Duke’s back faces you as he had his hand on the knob.

“You don’t care? You never cared about me, did you?” You come back at him.

“What?” He looked back, utterly confused you’d ever say that.

“You never fucking cared. I’m meant to be someone special to you – your best friend – and you only ever want me around when you don’t have a fuck buddy around. When you need a girl to make you look good when your hotline hoe ain’t picking up,” you start to spew some of your deep feelings.

Duke lets go of the handle and leans against the door. “Y/N, I-“

“You don’t fucking care about me. I fucking hop on a 2-hour flight weekly to see your ass and look all pretty for your stream. Then, you kick me out to entertain a next bitch, passing me off to the rest of the bros like I’m some community hoe. You never fucking cared about me. You never fucking did. You-“

“Are you jealous?” Duke saunters back to you, grinning. His diamond grill playing tricks with your hooded eyes.

“Huh? Where you get that from?” You feel your cheeks burn, turning your head to the side.

“As a friend, you care too much about my roster,” Duke tries to explain. He drops his head to try and make you look him in the eye, but you keep avoiding his accusatory gaze.

“You talking like we fucking or sum,” Duke continues to press you.

“Why would I want you, like, what? Like, that’s- Ha! Ewwww,” you try to act repulsed but you never got an A in drama. Your acting skills are subpar.

“Oh, OK. Just know: I’d drop my roster just for you.”

Your head whips around and look Duke square in his face. A goofy and toothy smile plasters across his face.

“You fucking play too fucking much. You can’t be trying to tease me and shit. Why would I fucking want you? You never cared about me before, why the fuck no-“ Duke’s pillowy lips press intensely on yours.

“Girl, shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

A/N: here’s the second part! Now, I really hate writing smut so pls forgive me but I’m skipping over that. Pls enjoy this quick update :)