#he will be an angry nerd and do angry nerd things

[bugwolfsstuff]

You'd think as someone who has religious trauma and an extremely bitter unending deicidal (Deicide= act of killing of [a] god) fury caused by god ignoring my prayers and letting a kid die when I was young (12 not 14 tho) that I'd understand and like Luke Castellan

....

But I don't. Holy fuck sir, sit the fuck down and listen to Dear God (by XTC), block all religious tags on tiktok, get super into religious imagery and mourn your innocence and the actual dead person at the same time like the rest of us (or just me) /j

(yes this all happened, one of the reasons why I don't do Luke angst a lot...hits too close to home)

[novelconcepts]

I'm so bewildered by any time loop media where the protagonist doesn't at least try to tell someone what's going on. Literally anyone. Just once. You're gonna live it again, dude! They won't remember! Who cares if they think you're mental, you're just gonna fast-forward to your do-over point anyway!

[fagsystem]

I did Other/Results because I am not 100% sure how retcon is defined. If I'm misunderstanding I am so sorry.

But I say Jason Todd, and the retconning to his personality when his death was retconned

I am not as well versed in the comics as I could be so I'm sorry if I'm missing something. But my understanding is that while his Robin run was short there were still a few pillar character traits established.

Yes, he was willing to murder people who he thought deserved it. He was also a bit unstable/moody, especially towards the end, due to having childhood trauma

But he was also a bright kid. Both in the sense of being smart and dedicated to school, but also being optimistic. 'Robin gives me magic'. He wasn't that way out of naivety. He had seen and experienced terrible things. He just knew he could make the world a better place and was smart enough that he could absolutely have figured out how to as he got older.

I know about the trope of coming back wrong. I know it would have been a severely traumatic experience and that would change him. I know it wasn't completely baseless.

But I feel as though he's honestly quite unrecognisable from who he was as Robin.

While he had a tendency of violence towards certain criminals and considered killing them just, he was also incredibly affected by casualties. People can be framed. He can misunderstand a situation. He could mistake someone innocent for someone worthy of death.

He just seems to not have nearly enough regard for making sure he's not accidentally killing someone innocent. But also he has killed people for far less than accidentally killing someone innocent. He seems too smart to not recognise he's not infallible.

It also never ever sat right with me him attacking Tim at Titans Tower. Like I get he was angry after his death. But like his dad didn't seem to care that he was killed, at least not in his perspective. He didn't avenge him. He replaced him as though it didn't matter that he was going to lead another kid to an early death. And yes, he didn't consider Tim an adequate replacement.

I felt as though it was weird that he decided he'd kill Robin himself. Like I always felt as though he wouldn't blame a sheltered rich kid for being brought into something he didn't feel as though he understood. But even if he did like I always felt like it would make more sense for Jason to not even be able to stomach the thought of it, because killing Robin meant he was like his murderer. It would make him like the Joker. It would make him a monster.

And I just feel like he's too smart to be trying to make the world a better place by becoming a crime lord. And too good at heart with too much of a traumatic history caused by people close to him struggling with addiction to be doing it for any other reason

I need to sleep

I hope I didn't misdefine retcon

Which Batfamily character has been done the worst by retcons?

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon/dubcon, bullying, reader wears glasses

♡ gn reader

Thinking about jock bully hunting you down after the bell rings...

You hurry – haphazardously shoving your books and pens into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder – ready to get out before the chimes are even done singing.

Thankfully, it seemed fine for now as you couldn't hear the roaring of buzzing students in the hallway just yet, only your own class packing up their belongings with movements rather lazy compared to yours. 

But you couldn't afford to take your time – even with the free period following the end of your class. You needed to leave before he could find you.

"Where’ you off to in such a hurry, Specs?"

You ought to have knocked on wood before finishing your thought – you admonished yourself with eyes squeezed tightly shut and a punishing bite to your lower lip.

It's funny – you winced – how his voice is so casual, so breezy and laidback, all cool and friendly – funny how it sends such spiky goosebumps down your spine.

You ignore him, trying to squeeze past him – quick and dexterous as you attempt to slip away and disappear out the door – maybe be so lucky to lose him in the crowd.

"Whoa, whoa- you tryna run off on me?" He joked. His large hands held up to block your way. 

You watch the rest of your classmates leave – leaving you to fend for yourself. But you couldn't really blame them… none of you wanted to explain new bruises to worried parents at home.

He was like a shark circling, and if he smelt blood in the water, you were as good as done for. And you were like an open cut.

"Now, what did I do to deserve a disappearing act, huh?" He pouted. His head tilted, blocking out the lights in the ceiling, shadowing his already scary face. 

You nearly squeaked instead of speaking. "Please- I- I-"

"Calm down, will yah?" He dismissed. Flashing you a wide smile – the one that nearly fooled you into believing he was a good and decent guy. "I ain't come to pick on yah…"

You didn't listen. Once again, you bravely tried to push past him with your bag squeezed tightly to your chest – trying to rush to the door.

But his size was like the door itself. Big and squared. Muscly and tough as he blocked your way effortlessly. Though, no less bothered with your insistent attempt at running away from him.

"Now, when I tell you to do something-" He laughed passive-aggressively as his hand reached out to clutch the handle on your bag, yanking you back. "You should perk up and listen, yeah? Use that head of yours for something useful for once."

His knee rode up between your thighs – making you whimper where you stood, caged between his thick arms and the desk behind you.

"Wouldn't wanna make me angry now, do yah?"

His breath tickled your face, and you bowed your head under his gaze – unable to take your eyes off of the veins flexing along his beefy arms as his large hands gripped the table’s edge, sleeves rolled up like usual – the sight of his knuckles whitening, making you queasy with unease.

You tried ducking away once again. "Please, I need to-"

But he just clicked his tongue at the measle effort. Cutting you off yet again. 

"You don't need to do anything but stand here and entertain me." He decided with a voice a bit more biting than before.

You jolted, your eyes round and wide as you looked back up into his glare.

He laughed out a lighthearted chuckle before his hand broke off from marring the desk – scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile – serving a small effort at easing your worries where you stood tense and rigid in your place in front of him.

"Thing is…” He started once again, his tone back to normal – or whatever he wanted you to think was his normal. “Coach is gonna kick me off the team if I don’t get my grades in order.” He explained. “So’s thinkin’ since you’re such a good little nerd, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out.”

His hand reached out to tickle your chin.

“M’sure havin’ a cute little nerd-tutor like you is exactly what I need.”

Your throat was so tight you thought you might just choke. “I don’t-”

“Good!” He boasted over your pitiful protest. “Since y’got nothin’ better to do, how ‘bout we just head straight for my dorm right now?” He asked – though you knew better than to think it was a question. “Le’me carry that for yah-”

He yanked your backpack from your chest, ripping it out of the tight hug before throwing it over his own shoulder.

“I can carry you too if yah want?” He posed – smirk loud on his face as he placed his large paws at your waist – followed quickly by you shooting your arms forward to shove him off in protest.

But though you thought you’d put in some strength behind it, the boy in front didn’t budge at all. 

He just arched a brow as though asking if that was really all you had. And you hoped dearly he couldn’t see how the stiff muscles of his shredded chest had actually strained your wrists instead.

“What do you say, short stuff?” He leaned in, his breath foggy on your glasses and hot on your cheeks, as his hands clawed themselves into the fat of your waist, pulling you off your feet just a bit.

“N- no, thank you.” You stuttered out, stumbling a bit as you braced yourself against him. Your eyes squished close as you bowed your head away from him in a mix of fear and embarrassment while you suppressed the mortifying feeling of nearly pissing yourself.

But the tall boy realized little of your inner turmoil – rather enjoying it as he scoffed out an amused laugh at you. “A'ight then, come on.”

He yanked you along – his large paw gripping your arm as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Nearly needing to resort to jogging where you otherwise tripped when the gap between the two of you became so large you had to skip a step or two to catch up – and before you even realized it, you were already standing outside the boy’s dorm waiting for him to find his keys.

He unlocked the door and welcomed you inside with the same grace of a warden showing a prisoner to their cell – with the weight and breadth of his warm hand on the small of your back as he nudged you inside.

The room had an overwhelming dank scent of both bodyspray and sweat and other things you’d only expect to smell in a boy’s locker room.

“Yo.” Came another voice from inside.

“Sup, roomie.” Your bully replied lazily. Grinning at how you gripped his shirt, all but jumping into hiding behind him. 

You’re cute…

“Who’s that you got there?” His friend arched a brow at you, where you peaked at him from behind your bully’s sleeve.

“I’mma need the room.” He announced, not really answering the question.

The roommate then scoffed with a grin, beholding you with slim eyes for a moment, then scoffed once more before he got up to leave.

“Don’t hit the books too hard – Coach’ll have your ass if you don’t bring your A-game later.” He warned, pulling his gym bag up on his shoulder as he excused himself.

You looked around once he was gone, spotting dumbbells and other equipment – and quickly realized how there must be many more muscles beneath his shirt than what you’d already borne witness. 

“So- uhm-” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you awkwardly turned to the boy. “Where're your books?”

Your bully smiled, taking a casual step toward you. “My books?” He asked, nowhere near even trying to sound the least bit genuinely confused.

“Your- uhm...” You paused, feeling uneasy. “Textbooks?”

His smile sharpened. “That’s cute.” He mocked sweetly while buttoning up the small black buttons of his white uniform shirt, giving a flash of those muscles you’d been anxiously anticipating. “You actually thought we were gonna study?”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Tendou, Ukai ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[itgetzweird08]

Part one

“..go out with me”

Your breathing hitched, indicating that you hadn’t been asleep all this time. You turned to face him then, flipping on your side in his bed to get a better look at his face. Even in the dark you could see the strong outline of his jaw and his messy blonde hair. He stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, and shrugged. “I mean, why not? We’re practically dating anyways” he followed up, vermillion eyes glancing down at you. “Any reason you’re asking me this now?” You whispered, moving slowly as you shifted closer to place your head on his chest.

This time, his breath stuttered.

Moving slowly, as if you were a flighty deer ready to run at any moment, he moved his hand from behind his head to on top of yours. His fingers gently played in your hair. He breathed a shaky breath, completely stripped of his usual hard shell. He was completely vulnerable to you in this moment. “When I was lying there on the battlefield..all I could think about was your stupid face.” He grimaced, stiffening a bit at the memory. You placed a hand on his chest, tracing circles with your thumb. He exhaled with a shaky breath. “I was bleeding out, all these fucking holes in me, and one of the only things I could think of was how angry I was at myself for not being able to man up and ask you out properly. I waited too long and everything’s a mess now. The city is a fucking wreck, we’re on lockdown..and I had a whole plan too. I was gonna take you to that noodle shop you like with the stupid name. And now I can’t, because it’s too late and now I might fucking die before I ever got the chance-“

You pressed a soft kiss to the new scar that peaked out from his black tank top, causing his words to get stuck in his throat.

“Take a breath..” you told him softly. He obeyed, breathing in air and blowing out his tension.

“It’s okay, B. You’re okay. I was mad too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to protect you when you got hurt, not being able to move a little bit faster and push you out of the way. I was mad that you might die before I got the chance to tell you how much I like you..” he smirked at your words, smug covering up his giddiness. “You like me?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and moving to shift away from him out of feigned annoyance. But he wrapped an arm around you waist and pulled you closer.

“I like you too nerd…a fuckton”

You couldn’t help but smile, sinking deeper into his hold as you breathed him in. And for a moment, you felt untouchable in here. Despite the looming threat of war, the scorching flames of the world outside, you were safe in his arms. You wished you could stay like this forever. A yawn left you as your eyes began to droop, and time seemed to come to a slow stop.

It was silent for a moment, as you both began to drift off before a question came into your mind. Despite your drowsy state, you couldn’t help but smile as you asked

“…so if you like me, does that mean you’ll admit that Oodles of Noodles is a fantastic name for a noodle shop-“

“Go to sleep, shithead.”

——————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

A thousand times yes! This gave me so much to think about. Specifically, your point about how his name represents his old self/identity is very interesting to me, given what we see from him with Cosette towards the end of the novel.

I find it striking that Valjean tells Cosette to refer to him as "Monsieur Jean," out of all things. It makes sense that, because of his conversation with Marius and their belief that he must be cut out of Cosette's life, he wouldn't allow her to call him "Father." And, even though he literally has a full, sobbing breakdown in front of Marius when it seems like Cosette will find out about his past (the only time we see him cry in front of someone else, I'm pretty sure?), he doesn't go by Fauchelevent to her. Cosette likely would've found that less unusual, since we see her refer to him as "my father Fauchelevent" quite naturally, and it would make sense that Valjean would want to minimize her suspicions. But his great denied desire, as he expresses to Marius, is to be a part of a family; that's exactly what he felt he couldn't do as Fauchelevent. Keeping that name would mean he would always be worried that "the mask would suddenly be torn away," and he would be driven out as a monster. He wants to be accepted and loved for who he truly is, and while this isn't by any means complete honesty, in confessing to Marius and dropping the alias with Cosette, maybe he feels a little closer to what he's longed for.

There's also the social and metatextual significance of having Cosette call him "Monsieur Jean." First, in dropping his alias (which supplied Cosette's maiden name), he further severs any perceptible social tie between the two of them. "Jean," as you mentioned above, is a homonym of gens, which is fitting, since JVJ views himself as having become "just another person" to Cosette. And yet, calling him by his first name indicates some level of familiarity; social norms at the time meant that formal address used the last name. "Monsieur Jean" is oddly straddling the line between distant and personal (as Valjean himself is attempting to do).

Maybe most interesting of all is that, as many have noticed, Hugo almost exclusively refers to JVJ by his full name, Jean Valjean. This is one of the only instances in which the last name is dropped, which is part of why it stood out so much on my readthrough. It feels noticably more intimate, but also incomplete. And I think it ties into what (as you mentioned above) his last name means: "voilà Jean/gens": "behold the man." He's not ready for Cosette to know the full truth about who he is, so narratively, it's fitting that the withheld last name (which would allow her to learn about his past) is one which itself references a full and raw perception. It was first used of the suffering Christ, naked and humiliated and condemned and innocent; Valjean, in his fear and self-loathing, does not allow that revelation of himself.

Les Mis Hidden Name Meanings: Jean Valjean

Every Les Mis character’s name is either a pun or has some deep symbolic meaning– or both at once! Jean Valjean’s name has a ton of layers so let’s dive in.

When we’re first introduced to him, Hugo tells us that his name is quote “a contraction of voilà Jean, or “here is Jean.”” We’re told that he was named after his father, and that his family name probably began as a nickname.

The word “Jean” in french sounds like the word “gens,” which means “people.” So his last name is a pun meant to make you think “viola les gens”/ “here are people.”

The most obvious layer to his name is that Jean Valjean is basically John Doe. He is the anonymous Everyman. His sister’s name is Jeanne, so she’s basically Jane Doe. They aren’t special or exceptional or unusual; they’re just behold! The regular people.

In fact his name is so common-sounding that it's a plot point. Champmathieu, the man who is mistaken for Jean Valjean, has a name that the police connect with his. Javert theorizes that "Champ" is a version of "Jean" in a specific accent, while Mathieu was actually Jean Valjean's sister's maiden name. ("Champ" is also the French word for "field.") The fact that Jean Valjean is a peasant everyman makes it easy for others in his position to be conflated with him.

But the other layer is that this is all an elaborate pun biblical reference!

When Pontius Pilate presents a bound Jesus Christ to the crowd before his crucifixion, he says the words “ecce homo” or “Here is the man!”/”behold the man!”

“Voila Jean” or “here is Jean!”/”behold Jean!” is meant to be a reference to that.

During his death scene Jean Voila-Jean even references the “Ecce homo” line explicitly, gesturing at a crucifix and saying:

“Voilà le grand martyr.”

Which Isabel Hapgood translates as “behold the great martyr.”

At another point in the same scene Marius says to Cosette:

“He has sacrificed himself. Viola l’Homme. Behold the man.”

But more references to that biblical moment appear throughout the novel; Jean Valjean is associated with it constantly, all the time. It’s one of his defining biblical allusions. He’ll be trying to live anonymously, or under an alias– and then suddenly his true name and criminal past will be revealed, he’ll be revealed to be ‘the man,’ and some great horrible act of martyrdom will follow.

Sometimes Jean Valjean is the one revealing his own identity, but sometimes Inspector Javert is put into the role of Pontius Pilate. Javert himself explicitly makes that comparison– Jean Valjean as Jesus, Javert as Pontius Pilate– when he’s contemplating suicide.

And this ties into one of the largest differences between the book and the stage musical.

In the musical, “prisoner 24601” is the name that represents Jean Valjean’s dehumanization–while “Jean Valjean” is the name he uses while standing up for his own humanity. He will be called 24601, and proudly declare that “my name is Jean Valjean” to assert he’s still a person.

And while this is a great storytelling choice, it’s almost the opposite of how the name “Jean Valjean” is handled in the book.

Because in the book…. Jean Valjean IS the name that dehumanizes him. Jean Valjean is the name that he’s running from. The name that Javert uses when he’s insulting him, the name that bigots use when they’re threatening him, the name that ignorant people use when they’re mocking him – it’s not 24601, it’s Jean Valjean.

And there’s a special kind of agony to that.

The name that is being used to torture, humiliate, and dehumanize him isn’t 24601– it’s his name.

He thinks of it as a “fatal name,” as a punishment. Living under that name is living in hell. When Jean Valjean is living under one of his aliases, concealing his identity, he thinks:

That which he had always feared most of all in his hours of self-communion, during his sleepless nights, was to ever hear that name {jean Valjean] pronounced; he had said to himself, that that would be the end of all things for him; that on the day when that name made its reappearance it would cause his new life to vanish from about him, and—who knows?—perhaps even his new soul from within him.

It’s no wonder that he ends up internalizing the way society views him, and developing so much fear and hatred of himself. He’s grown to see his name as just….well, ecce homo, behold the man. His name is just the two words people say before they violently punish him.

Names and namelessness are a major theme in Les Mis, and he’s the character who has the most complex relationship with his own names. He has a legal name, but it’s used to torture him, and he has a series of false names he uses to escape torture.

If I were to describe Jean Valjean– one of the most complex characters in all of literature, in one word, that word would be “grief.”

The criminal justice system takes everything from him, including things he wasn’t aware he was able to lose. His name, the last connection he had to his family and his old identity, gets warped into this thing needs to view with fear and horror. The thing society despises isn’t 24601, isn’t a number they’ve placed on him – the thing they despise is Jean Valjean, some intrinsic inherent part of himself. He isn’t hated for what he did, he’s hated for what he is, and that is something he can never escape.

{But speaking of complexity we’ve actually barely scratched the surface of how Jean Valjean reacts to names, because he spends most of the novel living under a series of nicknames aliases. And guess what! Each of these names also has some elaborate symbolic meaning! If you’re interested in more posts covering his different aliases, feel free to leave a comment in the replies!}

[thanks for reading! For more in-depth analysis, check out the @lesmisletters readalong or join our discord server!]

[steviewashere]

Oh, oh, oh

Eddie thinking Steve is kind of a good dude, but still holding his biases after Vecna. Oh, the way he looks at Steve is with his nostrils flared and his eyes skeptical. He stomps on Steve's interests because it's just "sportsball talk" and it's "not that important"; and he holds his own interests higher on a pedestal because they're all about "giving voices to the unheard" and "making others feel at home". Having this incredible, unmissable, unavoidable hypocrisy when it comes to Steve Harrington.

He greets him with a mocking, "Harrington," but never a "Steve" or a "Stevie." It's strictly last name basis. Eddie refuses to reach out to him, unless it's truly dire. He refuses to meet-up with Steve for hangouts—even if it's a movie night with everybody or it's an arcade trip with the whole party or a late night diner call. He wants nothing to do with Steve. But he can admire the way Steve calibrates himself with others, saves them time and time again, sticks up for them.

And the real kicker?

Steve is trying to be the best for Eddie. Not for himself. Not for the party. But for Eddie. He's not sure why it matters at all that he has Eddie's seal of approval, but if he doesn't...for some reason, it brings a hard-hitting ache to his chest, a stomach dropping sort of nausea, a burn behind his eyes. It shouldn't matter to him that Eddie won't hug him, won't indulge his interests, won't call him by his name. It really shouldn't.

But he keeps pushing, keeps trying. Calls Eddie, well, Eddie. He asks Dustin for advice, how he could approach, how to appease him. Erica puts on campaigns, just so that Steve can learn how to play; maybe Eddie wouldn't mind Steve teaming along for campaigns, as long as he can play. He's offering rides. He's giving Eddie his monthly free pass at Family Video. He's trying to laugh the hardest at Eddie's jokes, keep silent when he doesn't get something. He bites back on his retorts, on his usual catty playfulness, his jokey assholery—all because Eddie got on the defense and practically snarled at him the last time he tried to joke around with Robin about her failing dates. He pulls back and he keeps himself polite and he smiles when appropriate and he tries to expand his style, his music taste, his movie likes, his nerd vernacular. And he thinks he's doing a good job, pleasing Eddie. Because Eddie doesn't roll his eyes, doesn't snap at him, doesn't sigh at him, doesn't flare his nostrils—none of that.

Until...

Steve does something, he's not sure what. Maybe made a joke at the wrong moment? Argued a little too loudly? Didn't give Eddie what he wants? It had to be something he did. Something wrong.

Because Eddie's all mad at him, beyond pissy, beyond offended. Angry in a way that scares Steve, almost. Red-faced and stomping and big. And then, as the walls begin to close in, just as the floor begins to sink at Steve's feet, just as he's ready for Eddie to just slap him or punch him or knock some screws loose—

"I hate you."

And it's not the same as a punch, but it lands like one anyway. Knocking the wind right out of Steve's sails. He's standing straight one moment, off-kilter and ready to collapse the next.

"You hate me?"

He doesn't even hear the next thing Eddie says, blood rushing to his ears, drowning out the sounds. Because with his back against a wall, in the Wheeler's empty basement (as the kids all went up for some lunch, their D&D stuff strewn about), a sick curl of dread in Steve's stomach, he makes a haunting realization:

Nothing he does will ever be enough for Eddie. No matter the battle they fought. No matter the space they shared, chuckling into each other's ears, telling each other they were better than expectations. No matter the stuff Steve learned, or the way he cleaned Eddie's vest, or the media training he's essentially done to himself. None of it will be enough for Eddie.

Because in Eddie's head?

Steve Harrington is kind of a good guy.

But one act of bravery doesn't immediately erase an image. It doesn't get rid of drilled in biases. Or a well-crafted, initially well-meaning rule set in one's head.

At the end of the day, Steve Harrington was still King Steve. He was still this jockish asshole with a bit of boyish charm.

And Eddie's not a fool, no he isn't (except yes he eventually is), flattery won't work on him this time. All it takes is one moment, one vulnerability, and Steve will be showing his true colors. Any moment now, is what Eddie is constantly telling himself, any moment, the other shoe is going to drop.

He doesn't want to admit it. That Steve is good. That he's funny and charming and smart and wonderful. That, even in his attempt to put distance, Eddie is sort of falling for this version of Steve—supposedly this real version of him.

Again, though, he isn't a fool.

Even if he has a chance.

Because Steve didn't know why it mattered, not initially. But up close, Eddie's angry flaming eyes in front of him, his soft freckles dashing across his face, the thick furrow of his eyebrows—even angry, Steve can see that Eddie is handsome. Even angry, Eddie is everything Steve's wanted. Even angry, Eddie is light. And Steve?

God, Steve's in love.

He wanted the validation because he's in love. But Eddie won't ever know that. Because he apparently hates Steve. And Steve also isn't a fool. There's no point in sticking around if he's only going to make things worse, there's no point in befriending Eddie when he's already made up his mind. There's no point trying to earn a love that's worth half a dime to even his own parents. There's no point.

Maybe the distance is good.

Maybe the distance is just what they needed.

Maybe, just maybe, the friendship was dead in the water before it had the chance to swim.

Steve dashes away from it all, from the Wheeler's, from the party, from their game, from Eddie. What's he gonna do now? He's not sure. Maybe a bouquet of flowers and a well meaning apology would mean something. Maybe some dice and an apology?

But what did he even do? What's he apologizing for?

Maybe it wouldn't mean anything, especially since Eddie seems damn set on refusing to listen.

(Do they make up? I don't know...maybe...you decide.)

(Also...parallels? Me writing parallels? More likely than you think.)

[tuliptears]

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING!?”

Halloween was such a freeing holiday.

getting to dress-up as anyone or thing that tickled your fancy, as long as it was funny and recognizable.

it's refreshing to see others also partake in the festivities with the exchanging treats and the abundance of tricks played on unsuspecting victims.

not to mention the absolute kick you’re getting as Katsuki seethes at what you'd chosen to wear.

“My costume!” You grin widely with pride, puffing your chest out and putting your hands on your hips.

sure, he’s seen plenty of dynamights roaming the streets as he went about patrol, yelling kiddy swears and mimicking his move sets to the best of their abilities.

it's a whole different ball game when his partner decides to dress up as him; the fact that it was identical to the one he wore back during his UA days makes it worse.

“Midoriya helped with the finer details,” you casually named drop your accomplice, gave an uncharacteristic twirl, and let Katsuki bask and relive his glory days, “what do you think?”

“It fucking sucks.” Is all he manages to get past his tightly gritted teeth.

as he makes an expanding list of ways he plans on getting his revenge, you change your pose to one you'd seen him do a dozen times.

“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I absolutely nailed the ‘Lord Explosion Murder’ era perfectly.” the chunky styrofoam gauntlets were a bit of a hassle to haul around and you weren't even going to mention how heavy the mask/headpiece was.

“Don’t fuckin’ stand like that!” He’s pointing now, bright-red eyes narrowing at the protruding curve in your spine as you dramatically slouched into yourself.

"please, you stood exactly like this. I have the pictures!"

Katsuki's growling now, chest heaving with each angry breath he took, "you and that shitty nerd are so gonna get it."

“What’s crawled up yer ass, ya damn extra?” you try to closely match the gravelly, rough draw of his voice, which stokes the fire from deep within him even more.

the embarrassment hits him at full-force when your lips curl into an intimidating snarl, thinned-out brows making nearly perfect ‘v’ shapes as you do your best ‘dynamight’ glare, “cut it the fuck out!”

that's when he sees it.

a mischievous glint you get in your eyes when you'd come up with something you knew he'd absolutely hate.

tension only seems to thicken as you open your mouth and attempt to speak.

you’d barely rasped your first ‘oi!’ before he’s finally had enough and charges at full-speed.

costumed kids and adults alike looked on in confused horror as two Dynamights went barreling past them, one letting out boisterous fits of laughter and the other looking like he was seconds away from tearing his doppelgänger’s head right off.

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.6 - Resistance

ft. Karina

Family reunions can be awkward.

But none can rival this one.

Eros looks like he's going to throw up any moment - his face white as a sheet of paper. His eyes dart from Karina's face to yours. Then to the scattered naked bodies of the hunters and back to Karina's face.

“Answer me. What is this madness?”

Karina asks, the anger evident in her voice - brewing and crackling like a storm right there in the room. Her normally perfect features are twisted to a scowl that could melt any mortal into a puddle. If looks could kill, Eros would’ve been a goner five times over.

But you are now experienced enough to realize that the idol before you is indeed not an idol at all. You are not a mythology nerd but you have a vague picture of what Karina actually is.

The tingly feeling on your skin: check.

Looking like an idol: check.

Anger issues: check.

Yes. Definitely a goddess (both literally and metaphorically in this case).

“Uh….”

Eros, the literal god of love, who can make an army swoon with a wink, looks like a kid caught stealing candy. His face is pale, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. For a second, you wonder if you should step in and help, but then you remember: this is Eros’s mess. You have just narrowly escaped being slaughtered by a goddess. You are not gonna try to relive the experience.

“Mom…I…” he finally croaks, his voice cracking like a teenage boy’s.

Karina’s expression darkens. “Don’t you ‘Mom’ me, Eros,” she snaps. “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Eros glances at you and Kazuha for backup. You give him a look that says Oh, no way, buddy. You are on your own. Kazuha seems to share your opinion but her eyes betray no emotion. You doubt even Eors’ most loyal angel is enthusiastic about dealing with an angry goddess. Especially not after what she has just gone through. Eros’s shoulders slump, realizing there’s no easy way out of this. He shuffles his feet, suddenly very interested in the floor.

“Look, it’s not that bad-” he starts.

Karina’s laugh cuts him off, sharp and humourless. “Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD? You don’t know what you are doing, Eros. You are tampering with powers you don’t understand. Stealing the helm of darkness? Doing…,” she eyes the naked spent body of Artemis aka Chaewon with disgust. “this to a daughter of Zeus? You are lucky you are not already in Tartarus”

“Mom, you don’t understand. I-”

But once again, Karina doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “And that mortal,” her gaze falls on you and you are suddenly made aware that being butt naked isn’t the best attire for a meeting with an angry goddess. In her elegant white dress, Karina may be otherworldly beautiful but the fury in her eyes is absolutely terrifying, like she can burn you to ash right on the spot. And there’s no promise that wouldn’t be the case. “has the mark of Asmodeus. The mark, Eros. Do you understand how dangerous it is? Or do you think this is another of your funny little party tricks?”

“Hey!” you protest. “I’m literally right here”

Karina shot you a look so sharp you instantly regret speaking. “Quiet, mortal. We will deal with you later”

You swallow hard and try to disappear into a wall. No such luck.

Eros raises his hands in surrender, backing up like a guy caught sneaking past curfew. “Okay, okay, I messed up! I get it, alright? But I have a plan”

Karina looks like she’s going to blow up, any moment. Her eyes, full of fury before, now seem to hold flames within. If it’s Eros’s nonchalance that sets her off or something else, you can’t be sure.

Perhaps sensing that things are going to get out of hand, Kazuha finally breaks her silence. “Your grace, ma’am Aphrodite, if I may-”

“Hold your tongue too, angel!” Karina snaps back and Kazuha gaze falls to the floor, silenced.

Lucky for you, though, because you no longer need to ask Kazuha which goddess it is again (that is, if she’s even in the mood to answer). Aphrodite, of course. It’s an easy guess,really. Who else is there aside from the goddess of beauty to take on the form of one of the top visuals of 4th gen? Even you, whose knowledge on mythology is pitiful, know that much.

Karina - no, Aphrodite - continues. “A plan?” She takes a slow, measured step towards Eros. The whole room suddenly feels hotter and you swear you are not imagining the goosebumps on your skin. She’s mad mad. “You mean the kind of plan that could unravel the balance of the cosmos, Eros? That kind of plan?”

Eros holds her gaze for a moment, then shrugs, forcing his usual smirk back onto his face. “When you put it like that, it sounds really bad ”

Karina doesn’t blink. “Because it’s really bad”

You stand off to the side, feeling like an unwanted extra in a godly family drama. It’s not everyday you see a goddess scolding her son like he’d forgotten to take out the trash - except, in this case, the trash might be something on a cosmic scale.

“So, give me a good reason Eros,” Aphrodite stops, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Or I will hand you to Zeus with my own hands”

For the first time since this whole thing started, Ero’s jolly persona is nowhere to be found. He seems to be contemplating, brows furrowed and lips stretched tight. The god of love has never looked this serious.

Finally, Eros lifts his eyes back upon Karina’s face. “Because we deserve better’” he says, and his voice, though quiet, is steady. “You deserve better”

Aphrodite’s expression froze, like she has not been expecting that.

Eros takes a step closer, his tone shifting - softer now, almost coaxing. You wonder if the ability comes with being a love god. “You were the first, mom. The first Olympian. The oldest. You were there before any of those old nutjobs were born”

The sky crackles with thunder at that, as if Zeus himself has heard Eros. And you are suddenly aware that the scenery beyond the glass has shifted - now displaying ancient Greek in its full glory, with its marble temples and bronze sculptures. The place looks eerily beautiful, deprived of people.

But Eros doesn’t seem to give two fucks about what the king of gods think, because he continues. “And yet, look where you stand now - beneath him. Beneath all of them,” his voice drips with venom. “Is that fair?”

Aphrodite is silent for a moment, then she lets out a weak chuckle. “This is crazy. You are crazy”

Nonetheless, Eros presses on. “What I’m doing….what I’ve set in motion…it’s not just for me. It’s for you. For us”

So that’s it, you think. Everything you have done so far, every near death experience you have survived; it’s all just for Eros to gain his mom’s approval. A desperate attempt of a wayward son for recognition. And you have gladly gone along with it.

You feel really stupid. But it’s too late to back out now. Because the power…..it’s addicting.

Aphrodite doesn’t speak. But she’s no longer furious, now. She’s interested. She’s listening.

Eros tilts his head towards you. “And he is the key”

You have a sudden horrible feeling that you are standing on the edge of something massive, something you weren't supposed to understand.

If Eros plans to dethrone the gods with your abilities, you doubt the outcome would be pretty. Sure, you can make goddesses and angels become your cocksleeves with your magical dick, but even that isn’t without a fight. You will literally have no chance against all the Olympians. And the mere thought of using your powers on any male god makes you shudder. Even your perverted mind has its limits.

Karina studies you as if she has read your thoughts, before turning back to Eros. “You are not the first to try” she begins slowly. “And you won’t be the first to fail. Lust can be a powerful weapon if you wield it correctly, but this? This is madness”

Eros doesn’t respond. For once, he doesn’t have a clever remark or a lazy smirk.

Aphrodite lets out a sigh. “Clean up this mess,” she gestures to the naked, spent bodies of the hunters and Artemis. “If anyone asks, I’ve never been here, got it? I’ll be watching, Eros”

And with a swish of her dress, she heads to the doorway she has come from. In an instant, the room erupts in a blinding light once more. Unfortunately, you make the mistake of staring too long and the luminous rays scorch your eyes before you shut them tight.

It takes a while for you to blink out the white spots dancing across your vision. But when you finally regain perfect sight, Aphrodite is gone.

Everything is still for a moment, before it’s broken by Eros’s voice.

“Well,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “That could’ve gone worse”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because now, the exhaustion is hitting you all at once. The battle in Artemis’s verse, the fatigue that follows the mark’s activation, the sheer weight of what you’ve been thrown into - it crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your body feels like lead, every muscle burning, every bone aching.

The world tilts.

You sway on your feet, gripping your side as your vision blurs. Someone - Kazuha? - says your name, but it’s distant, muffled, like a sound travelling through water. Your knees buckle, and the last thing you hear before the darkness takes you is Eros’s voice, sounding oddly far away.

“Guess we push him a little too hard”

And then – nothing.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

After seeing skeletons and three headed beasts in your dreams for weeks in a row, you already know what to expect when you are beyond your consciousness. Or maybe, something far worse.

But this time, it’s different.

The material beneath you is soft, a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you remember collapsing on. Blinking against the golden light filtering from above, you push yourself up slowly, your muscles still aching from…everything.

The room around you is massive, circular, its marble walls pristine and smooth, interrupted only by tall pillars that stretch towards a domed ceiling. It reminds you of Persephone’s chamber in the underworld, the only difference being its cold, dreadful atmosphere replaced by a cheerful one.

The air smells of salt and roses, an odd combination that somehow makes sense. Sunlight streams in through openings between the pillars, casting shifting patterns across the polished floor.

You look at yourself. Your body is still bare, but it’s not misty and see through like back in your visit to the underworld. So, you are not dead yet. That’s a relief.

But you have learnt that if something looks remotely safe or welcoming in this world, it mostly isn’t. So you try to be cautious. As cautious as someone who’s butt naked and defenseless can be.

You are starting to contemplate whether you should just go back to sleep when you see her.

Karina, leaning against one of the pillars, dresses in a different outfit now - a white tank top, perfectly fitted jeans, and sneakers that look too clean to have ever touched mortal ground. It’s nothing godly but her beauty never fails to shine through, betraying her divinity.

“You’re awake,” she notes, her voice smooth, unimpressed.

You sit up stiffly, wincing at the stiffness in your limbs. “Am I dreaming?”

“Sorta” She tilts her head slightly, regarding you like an interesting specimen. “I borrow your soul for a while”

You don’t really understand what she means but decide not to raise questions. Not out of fear but rather, the curiosity of why she has brought her here in the first place.

“I have come to offer you a gift,” Karina says, answering your thoughts.

You blink, unsure you have heard her right. “A gift?”

She hums in confirmation, but doesn’t elaborate.

You hesitate, sensing a trap somewhere in her offer. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, she studies you, her gaze sharp and knowing. And then, with the faintest of smirks, she says, “Because I feel like it”

No way you are buying that.

Your mind races back to her confrontation with Eros, how she has despised his plan to dethrone the gods. “I thought you don’t agree with Eros’s plan” you say, watching her carefully.

Her smile doesn’t falter, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She shrugs. “I didn’t say that”

That throws you off. “So you agree?”

Another shrug. “I didn’t say that either”

You stare at her, frustration creeping in. “That’s not an answer”

Aphrodite sighs, folding her arms. “No, it’s not”

She steps closer, stopping just at the edge of the bed. From this distance, you can see the way the lights catch in her dark eyes, how they shimmer like a vortex of jewels. She looks casual, relaxed even, but you can sense it’s all a mask to hide something deeper.

“You think the power you have now is impressive?” she asks. “That little trick you pulled on Artemis? That’s nothing”

You frown. “Nothing?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “A fraction. A sliver. The barest hint of what you are capable of” Her assessing gaze hovers over you, like she’s imagining what you have become. “Right now, you are a candle in the dark. But given time….you could be a wildfire”

More power. That’s exactly what you are afraid of. If you have already developed the thirst for the mark, you wonder what will become of you if its power grows. Will you even be human?

You swallow hard. “And, you’re just telling me this out of the kindness of your heart, aren’t you?”

She smirks. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t do anything out of kindness”

You don’t doubt that.

She steps back slightly, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “This gift I have planned to give you. It’s a taste of what to come”

You tense. “What kind of gift?”

She smiles, slow and deliberate. “A new ability. One you will unlock eventually. But I’m feeling generous today”

You don’t know if ‘generous’ is the right word. Whatever she’s offering, it’s not just for you. There’s something in it for her, too. There always is.

“What ability?” you ask carefully.

Karina’s smile deepens. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

And before you can react, she reaches out, pressing two fingers against your forehead.

The world tilts-

And everything explodes.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

When everything stops spinning, the marble room is gone.

You blink. The soft glow of divine architecture is replaced by dim fluorescents of a….classroom. You find yourself seated in a chair of a location too familiar.

It’s the kind of room you have seen a thousand times before - rows of wooden desks, a blackboard at the front, a few motivational posters peeling off the walls. The faint scent of chalk and old textbook lingers in the air. Outside the window, the world is…nothing. Just an endless, swirling void.

You barely have time to process the shift before you hear the click of heels against the floor.

When you turn, your brain nearly short-circuits.

Karina is leaning against the teacher’s desk, arms folded, one leg crossed over the others. Only now, she’s not in her usual jeans and tank top. Instead, she’s dressed like every high school fantasy rolled into one - a tight white blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal her ample cleavage, a red plaid skirt that barely reaches mid-thigh, thigh-high stockings, and glossy black heels. She’s twirling a piece of hair around one finger, watching you with amusement.

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

She smirks. “Welcome to my verse”

Your brain is still buffering. “Your verse is a classroom?”

“For you,” she says, hopping up onto the desk and crossing her legs. “Unlike the others you have visited, mine is unique. Do you know why?” She leans forward slightly, her tits on the brink of spilling out from the fragile fabric. “It shifts and bends…according to the visitor’s deepest kink”

You stiffen. “That - that’s not true”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why do I look like this?”

You have no answer.

Karina chuckles, tapping a finger against her temple. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. The Verse doesn’t lie”

You swallow hard. “You - this - you are messing with me”

“Am I?” Her lips curve into something wicked. “Or are you just embarrassed that this is what your subconscious really wants?”

You are hard. So hard that it hurts. Your cock is rigid and springing up to its full length. With the lack of clothes, you have no way to hide your arousal. But you shove it down, trying to focus. “Why bring me here? What’s the point?”

Karina hums, swinging her legs idly. “I told you - I’m giving you a gift. But power is best awakened when you are completely in sync with your own desires” She tilts her head, watching your reaction carefully. “And nothing lays a person bare quite like this”

You want to deny her, try to compose yourself. But the truth is - she’s absolutely right. She’s pushing all the right buttons, using every buried fantasy of yours to her advantage. You know what’s coming next is inevitable, even with your lust hazed brain.

Karina slides off the desk with the grace of a predator, each step deliberate, heels clicking across the floor. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you find yourself rooted in place, unable to move.

She circles around you, like she’s sizing you up. Her fingers trail across your shoulder, down your arm, sending a shiver through your body. Her touch is light, teasing, but it feels like she’s peeling off layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You’re tense.” she whispers into your ear, her breath tickling your ear. Her hands rest on your shoulders, massaging gently, but there’s a weight to her touch that makes you weak. “You shouldn’t be”

You try to keep your breathing steady but it’s a losing battle. Her presence is overwhelming, seeping into your brain, clouding your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask, though your voice comes out shaky.

She chuckles softly, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I’m just showing you what you are capable of.” Her hands slide down your chest, pressing lightly, and you can feel your resolve wavering, crumbling under her touch. “You have so much potential, so much power. But it’s locked away because you’re afraid”

“I’m not-” you start, but she cuts you off, spinning you around to face her. Your eyes instinctively fall on her plentiful tits, which are now on full display from this new angle.

“Eyes up here, honey,” she cups your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “You’re afraid of the power inside you. Afraid of what you could become. Afraid of losing control” Her thumbs brush over your cheek, her touch light yet commanding. “But power is only dangerous if you don’t understand it”

Everything she’s telling you could be a lie. But you no longer care. Because all you crave now is more of this, more of her touch, her breath, her warmth. Her hand slides down , resting against your chest, and you feel your heart pounding beneath her fingertips.

“What do you want, really?” she asks, her voice a soft purr. “To be free of this? To understand it? Or maybe…” Her lips curve into a knowing smile. “To embrace it?”

Your mind is spinning, her words digging deep, unraveling desires you didn’t know were there. She rests a hand on your thigh, tracing idle patterns on your skin. Yet, her eyes never leave you, holding you captive.

“Stop fighting it,” she breathes, her voice a soft command. “Let go”

You feel the last shed of your resistance crumbles to dust. It’s intoxicating, the way she breaks down your walls, knocking them over like mere toys. And you finally relent, letting go of the fear, the doubt.

“Good boy” she praises.

And that’s when she crushes your lips with hers.

It’s not love. Far from it. It’s not affection either. But it’s equally addicting, something you want more the moment you have its taste, like an oasis in the desert. And Karina doesn’t keep you thirsty. She keeps on kissing you, letting you busk in the feeling of her silky lips, moist and soft each time they make contact with yours. Her tongue slips out to seek yours and you happily let yourself be found, intertwining it with yours, tasting her.

Her hand on your thigh isn't still either, slithering its way upwards until it finally reaches the hardness between your legs, gripping the base. You let out a moan against her lips, as her grip tightens. She can feel you throbbing. You are sure of it. She can feel how desperately you need her.

She gives you a single stroke, her fist around your length pumping a single time. And that’s enough to set you off.

Your veins flood with power. Your whole body is enveloped in gold. The upside down pentagon on your pelvis glows brighter than ever. And your cock, looks like it can destroy armies (literally).

Karina pulls back, though your lips still connect with a string of saliva. The scene turns you on so much that if it’s not been the mark, you feel like your cock would go numb from throbbing.

“And we are back,” she muses, studying your cock like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Look at this beautiful thing”

“You are not affected by the mark?” you ask, surprised. Persephone and Artemis have become slaves to the mark’s power as soon as it activates. But Aphrodite doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, she looks mesmerized.

“The mark only punishes those who try to fight it” she says, now stroking your shaft in an agonizingly slow pace. “I embrace it”

She’s still admiring your cock with sparkling eyes. You are used to people cowering before the mark with fear or sometimes even disgust that someone worshipping it is such a strange sight. On the other hand, perhaps, you are content that someone finally acknowledges its power instead of treating it like a curse.

“Only a fool would reject something this…divine,” she mutters dreamily, her digits tightening around your shaft. “This hard. This….big”

She places a single kiss on your tip and you swear you can see stars. You can feel her breath on your skin, the phantom warmth that precedes what comes next.

“May I suck your cock, sir?” she asks, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

She’s fueling your fantasy. If the settings and the outfit aren’t enough, she has decided to roleplay too. A roleplay that’s too accurate to be a roleplay.

“You may,” you reply. You don’t know if you are in the position to give orders, but if she’s really getting into this slutty schoolgirl act, you decide you’d better too. Afterall, it takes two to tango.

“Thanks, sir” And with that, her lips part around your tip, swallowing you inch by inch until half of your shaft has disappeared into her wet warmth. Her tongue swipes at your slit and the moans spill from you before you can control yourself.

Karina pulls back, a glint of something like victory in her eyes. “You need me that bad, sir? Need that big cock in my pretty mouth?”

You can’t voice an answer. Your brain is too jumbled to string coherent words. So you give her a single nod.

“I thought so,” she says as if it isn’t obvious before she welcomes your shaft back into her mouth again.

You throw your head back in mind-numbing pleasure. Everything feels so….surreal. Her lips gliding along your veiny shaft, her tongue that darts out so often to taste your leaking slit, the loud slurping sounds she’s probably making intentionally to rile you up.

It's a mess. It’s filthy. It’s everything you want.

The goddess of love herself is blowing your shaft. Or rather, Karina, the dream woman of million fans, herself has your cock in her mouth. You doubt both are luxuries that just anyone gets to experience.

Maybe Karina is just doing this for her benefit. It would be downright idiotic to think that a goddess would blow your cock for free. But right now, your mind is blank, focused on the single blissful feeling of Karina’s mouth working your length.

A loud gurgle escapes her lips when she swallows your whole shaft, nose pressed against your pelvis. The sudden, constricting warmth of her throat is unexpected. But when a goddess deepthroats you, you don’t complain.

She locks her gaze with yours as she holds your cock captive in her throat. Seconds pass but she shows no sign of backing out, still as determined as ever to keep you trapped in her tight warmth.

As for you, each second passed is another step to utopia, wishing this euphoric feeling never ends. Let her keep your cock warm forever.

But your hope quickly crumbles when she finally releases your cock, leaving it drenched in her drool. A waterfall of saliva stains her blouse, rendering it transparent to the point you can see the slightest hint of her rosy nipples.

“Oh, look like I’ve made a mess,” she says casually, like getting drool on your clothes is a normal occurrence. “I’d better clean up, hmm?”

You don’t understand what she’s talking about until she starts unbuttoning her shirt. Each loose button reveals more of her milky, round globes, peaking around the white fabric. She gets the job done quickly but it’s not like there’s much button left to begin with. Soon, her blouse lays a crumple heap on the floor.

“Like what you see?” she asks, like that’s even a question.

You are mesmerized. You can die happily now, you think. She may not be the real Karina but she’s still….well, Karina. And a full view of her glorious tits, which have their own fandom, is a privilege.

“Yeah…..” your voice comes out a shallow whisper, unable to think of anything except tits, tits and tits.

“Thought so,” she says, standing up and for a moment, you have a horrible thought that she’s gonna leave you like this - wanton and desperate. It’s exactly the kind of thing Aphrodite would do.

Luckily, she’s not feeling cruel today because she gets right back into her schoolgirl persona. “Say, sir. What do you think about stretching me out with that big cock?”

“You don’t even need to ask”

At your reply, Karina settles on your lap, facing you as she slowly guides your throbbing shaft inside her short skirt, her hands coming to rest on the nape of your neck. You watch your cock disappear into her red clothing, until you feel a wetness connect with your tip.

“Fill me up” And just like that, she sinks herself onto your shaft. You both let out a moan in unison. Her, from being utterly stretched out and you, from the way her walls squeeze your length.

Neither of you move for a second, adapting to this new position of depravity. But it doesn’t last long as Karina starts to roll her hips slowly. Your hands instinctively rest on her waist, guiding her movements.

“Fuck, you are so big. Even bigger than Ares…” she groans. You have no idea who she’s talking about but hey, a compliment’s still a compliment.

“Come on. You want those tits, don’t you?” she urges, pushing those busty globes into your face. And you gladly oblige, latching your lips onto one of her stiff nipples.

“Mhmm fuck” she groans as you swipe your tongue at her rosy bud before moving on to the other and doing the same thing. You decide not to be too greedy for now, devoting yourself to tasting one of her milkers, sucking and licking.

She writhes and trembles at the attention you are giving her tits, but her hip action doesn’t waver. She’s still riding you steadily, letting you enjoy her goddess pussy each time your shaft splits it open.

“God, your cock feels so good. So fucking big. Nghh…” She starts to pick up the pace, literally bouncing on your cock now as you turn your attention towards her unattended nipple, enjoying it the same way you did to its predecessor.

This double pleasure, that comes from both her tits and her pussy, can’t be described with words. It’s something beyond human comprehension that you doubt any other mortal could have gone through this and survive.

Her walls squeeze you just right, as if it has memorized every vulnerable spot, tackling with a precision that leaves your mind swimming.

Each time her ass crashes down onto your cock, she lets out a guttural moan. Her huge tits are jiggling so much now that it’s now impossible to put your mouth anywhere near. So you stop trying and enjoy the view.

You feel your body tingling with power, like a nuclear reactor on the verge of exploding. The glow on your pelvis grows brighter until it bathes the classroom in gold. Nevertheless, Karina is relentless - fucking herself on your throbbing cock like a bitch in heat. Who knows goddesses can be so beautiful yet so filthy?

But even the chosen one has his limits as you feel yourself spiralling to the inevitable end of this insatiable lust. The faint tingly feeling on your cock grows stronger until it’s overwhelming and soon, you unravel.

For a moment, all you can see is white as you unload spurt after spurt of your vile seed into Karina. It just keeps coming, everything stored in your balls, spilling into Karina’s cunt as she shudders from her own release. A few grunts follow as Karina rides you until she’s sure she has squeezed out the last drop of your load.

It takes a while to gather your thoughts.

When your senses finally return, Karina has returned to her earlier position on the desk, with the same cross-legged posture. The only difference being her tits out on display and the steady droplets of your cum dripping from under her skirt.

“Well,” she begins, not a hint of exhaustion in her voice, though sweat beads her temple and her hair has become a crumpled mess. “There’s your gift”

You blink. Karina has promised you a new ability but you don’t feel any different.

Then you realize.

You don’t feel any different.

Usually, extreme exhaustion, like you have run a marathon, follows after the mark’s power subsides. But this time, you don’t feel any of the fatigue, the weariness. Then you look down and find the answer.

The mark is still there. It has not disappeared like before. It’s not alight with power but it still glows a faint gold. Does it mean you can control it now?

“The mark….” you mutter.

“Indeed, the mark,” Karina agrees, amused at your realization. “Pretty handy, isn’t it? You don’t need to keep passing out every time you use it”

She is, no doubt, correct. Not only that you haven’t passed out but a fresh surge of energy has started travelling through your body. Your breath catches in your throat as another wave of arousal overwhelms you, and your cock springs up instantly from its limp form.

Karina smirks at the sight. “Easy there, tiger. Or we might stay in this verse forever”

This power. It’s pure and absolute. There’s no more doubt. No more fear. You have embraced what you are.

You are not a god. No. You are something far better. Something a thousand times more perfect. In no time, those who call themselves the divines will cower at your feet. In fact, they already are.

You are snapped out of your triumphant thoughts by the rattling sound of the desk as Karina slides down. She approaches you in slow and measured steps, like you are a bomb which can go off anytime.

“I’m sure we will meet again, Michael,” Karina says, inches away from you now. “For now, farewell”

Once again, she presses two fingers to your forehead.

And you spiral into an endless void.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

As abruptly as it has started, you find yourself back in your room at Eros’s place. The dim glow of city light filters through the rain-streaked windows, casting shifting patterns on the walls. Outside, New York sprawls endlessly, neon signs flickering, car horns blaring faintly in the distance. The scenery has shifted again.

The storm hasn’t let up either. Rain drums steadily against the glass, its rhythm oddly soothing. You half expect to feel the ache and exhaustion after you have landed face first on the floor but instead, your body hums with a quiet, unfamiliar energy.

You feel better than you have been in days. Better than you should.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you flex your fingers, testing the sensation. No soreness, no aches. If anything, you feel sharper, like a blade freshly honed.

Suddenly, a chime pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance to the nightstand, where your phone screen glows softly in the dim room. A single notification sits at the top: a dark heart icon from the app you are too familiar with - the Ero app.

New ability acquired.

You snort, but the amusement fades the second you swipe open the screen and catch sight of the new wallpaper.

A bright, obnoxious Hello Kitty background stares back at you.

You sigh “Eros, you motherfuck-”

Shaking your head, you open the app - the same one that dragged you into this whole mess - and freeze.

It’s different.

Before, the Ero app was nothing more than a sleek, minimalistic portal. No menus, no settings - except for some occasional forewords about your quests. But now, the interface has shifted.

At the center of the screen is you. Or at least, a stylized version of you, shirtless, standing with an aura of gold swirling around you. Below it, your Profile is displayed, listing your Abilities in neat, glowing text.

Lust Epidemic. That must be the one which got the hunters acting like bitches in heat.

Domination. You are puzzled for a moment, then remember the mark you have imprinted upon Chaewon, turning her into your obedient slave.

And last but not least.

Endless Ardor. The one Aphrodite has granted.

And then, farther down-

You narrow your eyes.

A section labeled “Goddesses Conquered”.

The figures of Shuhua(Persephone), Chaewon(Artemis) and Karina(Aphrodite) are there, fitted in borders of golden hue. But the rest? Locked Silhouettes, dark and shadowed, their names blurred.

This looks like something out of an rpg game except that everything is real.

At the bottom, something else catches your eyes. A meter labeled Perfection.

It’s at 10%.

You stare at it, a strange unease creeping in. Perfection? What is that supposed to mean? And why does it feel like the app is tracking something you don’t fully understand yet?

Before you can think further, the door swings open.

Eros strides in, smelling like he has drowned in every perfume known to man, dressed in fresh clothes - ripped jeans and a loose button-down that hangs open just enough to be obnoxious. He grins like he owns the place. Which, considering this is his place, might not be far from the truth.

“Morning sunshine,” he drawls. “I come bearing a gift”

You raise an eyebrow. “A gift?”

Eros steps aside and the angel enters.

Kazuha walks in, looking clean and fresh. The wounds on her body are nowhere to be seen. She’s dressed like some kind of agent - fitted tank top, dark jeans and combat boots. Though you have to admit she looks insanely hot, that’s not what catches your attention. It’s what she’s holding.

A leash.

Connected to a collar.

Wrapped around Chaewon’s neck.

You are speechless. The once proud goddess of the hunt, stands on all fours, no different from a dog. There’s not a piece of clothing on her except for the collar around her neck. She stares at you with curiosity, but the fire in her eyes is gone, replaced by utter and complete obedience. Somehow, you get a feeling she’s awaiting an order.

Your order.

Eros chuckles, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Congratulations, buddy. You have officially tamed a goddess”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

This one takes quite a while because I have been procrastinating. Thankfully, I get into the mood for some mythological action again. Enjoy.

[spookys1fan]

Guys…. Guys I finally did it

I’ve done it, it’s here….

Are you ready? Ready for them?

I hope you are…

BECAUSE I FINISHED THE JADE WINGLETTTTTT ^^ FINALLY

Here yall go!! Ik it’s taken me such a long time, I wasn’t happy with my first pass and I had to take a break for a while and re-evaluate.

But I finally got it done!! Im so glad! ^^ I had a lot of fun doing this for yall, I hope they don’t disappoint XD

Alr, let’s get to the designs! ^^

I loveeeed doing peril, her colors can be so experimentive but I eventually settled on a darker color pallet than I originally planned. I like to think she brightens up like a light bulb when she’s angry #- -# I also think that like, after all the shit went down from the first arc she’s just in a constant state of panic. Like “OH SHIT WHAT DID I DO THIS TIME???” Like a deer in headlights XD overall i love the blue highlights, I think it brings a nice pop of color! ^^ I also gave her some slight sun motifs on her scales>>

Moon was fun to do, even if it’s not super creative. I loved giving her her braids, I like to think quibly put them in her fur in one of their little lovie-dovey spa sessions #> <# i overall gave her a bunch of moon motifs in her horns and like the chip in her ear (if you can call it that, that thing is gaping) ((sorry I made yall read the word gaping)) but anyway , I also love giving her a lil nervous expression, cuz she didn’t have a lot of interaction as a dragonet and I like to think that she’s just a socially awkward little nerd <3. I loved doing her design and giving her little yellow highlights for quibly>>

Quibly was fun to do, even if it’s didnt get his colors right at first. I went with a more yellow-greenish theme rather than a super warm color scheme bc moon<3. I overall made him more skinny and skrungly, and gave him lil hyena-esque freckles(and a lil beard #> <#). I also made his earring ginormous. Oo and I gave him a gold tooth! ^^ cuz like, vulture and yknow, guard for thorn and all>> jezzus i love him so much-

Kinkajou went through many shape language sketches, I needed her to stand out a lot, cuz yknow, rainwings are kinda hard to recognize with their constantly shifting colors, and I didn’t want to give her a permanent color scheme cuz that defeats the purpose of color changing scales. But I think I got it down! ^^ I gave her a brighter color scheme than the rest, bc rainwing and all, but now that Im looking at it she kinda looks like a clown - -* lol SHES NOT A CLOWN I SWEAR SHES JUST RLLY HAPPY!! I like it anyway.

Winter… winter is just a pretty boy :P i went through so many shape language and definition passes u have no idea. I ended up with 3+1/2 designs for just him alone - -. The colors were easy tho! I wanted to make him darker than most winter designs, just for contrast, and I liked giving him his short, upward facing neck quills, I think it makes him stand out! ^^ I also gave him some lighter blue highlight striping to kinda simulate frost <3 over all I really like his end design! ^^ I loved giving him his kind of moon shaped horns </3 :P

I honestly don’t usually have turtle be so dark of colors, but I actually think it suits him a lot better than a lighter design! ^^ I think it makes him stand out to other sea wings, who are usually brighter colors! (I also gave him a hint of a mustache > < hehe:P) hes chunky, even by seawing standards, and I love him far more for it <3 at first I want sure what to do for his colors, cuz I don’t really like just straight green, but I think giving him yellow/orange colored highlights really helped me like his design a lot better <3 his eye color really ties it together! I love his design and I like making him a lot stubbier than most seawing, I think it makes him so cute ^^! <3

I had a lot of trouble with their designs in the first place, and I’m sorry it took so long to get them to yall, I even had to do the sketching in my sketchbook and trace it into my iPad - -*. but I really think it’s worth it <3 i love them so much and I’m actually really happy with all of them.

I really hope you guys like them, I put a lot of effort into all of them and I think it really shows, even if their only head shots ^^* LOVE YALL hope yall have a great day/night/afternoon and remember to love others! ^^ luv yall 💗

[mywritersmind]

LOOKING GOOD - LN4

summary : fewtrell!reader <3 her brother leaves her alone with lando for less than five minutes and she manages to make her childhood friend blush.

listen up : no warnings!! a small blurb to get me back into writing bc i stopped for a day and am now lost.

word count : 634

⋆｡‧˚⋆

My brother doesn’t usually annoy me this much, but today he’s really making me angry. He said we would have a brother-sister day (aka we go out for lunch and shit talk while he pays) but I’m standing in a studio instead.

He’s talking to Lando who’s having photos done for a new LN4 drop or something. I check my phone again but am soon looking up again when I realize Lando and Max are now standing in front of me

“I’m gonna go change!” he throws me a hoodie, “I told you i’d get you free shit!” Max walks away as I eye the hoodie.

It’s the same dark green that Lando has on, but mine has a 4 on the chest and various little patches on the arms. I raise a brow at him but he talks first.

“Thought you’d like that one. You look good wearing my number.” I suck in a breath at his flirtatious tone. He’s got a mischievous smirk painted on his face as I rest my hands on the jacket.

“Did you do this to make up for not having the frat boy life you were destined for?” His smile doesn’t falter, just sits down next to me and rests his arm around the back of my chair.

“Sorry I've stolen Max away, today.” I can feel his fingers tap against the chair.

I sigh and shrug, “I get it. Best friend over his loving, stunning, iconic, caring, younger sister.”

Lando laughs a bit, turning his head away. When he does, it makes me realize I haven’t heard him laugh in a while. In fact, I haven’t seen him for months.

His tan is the same which is ridiculous and I fight the urge to ask him if he spray tans. But as my eyes catch on his hair, I swallow.

His curls are defined and cut into a mullet. I’ve always thought I hated them until I saw Lando’s haircut. He’s got his usual bracelets on and when I’m looking at them I get distracted by his hands.

Sometimes it’s really hard to ignore the fact that this man is the same absolute nerd I grew up with. He and my brother used to terrorize me and now Lando’s words are more teasing if anything.

I know he likes the way we talk because everytime I see him, he willingly starts a conversation with me even though I take every chance to bully him.

He blinks and my gaze is pulled back to my lashes, then his eyes. Fuck, those eyes. They’ve always been my favorite part of Lando’s appearance. Is that weird?

You could argue that they’re brown in the dark, but as soon as the sun hits you realize that they’re not specifically one thing.

Right now they look green as ever, the color in his hoodie bringing it out. I don’t realize he’s looking at me until he blinks again.

“Look,” Lando sighs, “If you’re gonna make a jab at how I have my name embroidered on my hoodie-” I let out a small scoff and he stops. “What?”

“I was gonna say you look really good.” I say simply as his jaw basically drops.

I think I've finally found a way to silence Lando Norris, and get his cheeks pink.

Max walks back in, his new Lando swag on display as I stand.

“I’m gonna wait in the car.” I smile at him and as I walk past my brother, I look back to Lando. “Thanks for the hoodie, Norris.”

He’s watching me walk away, a confused look still on his face. I bring my hand up and wiggle my fingers at him. I hear my brother start to yap loudly as the corner of Lando’s mouth quirks.

[wasiandude]

Gym Opening.

With the amazing @kylestfs

The time was 9 in the morning, Louis finished breakfast with his mother, since his father was currently on a business trip, he got up from the chair and washed his dishes, His mother looked at him with pride, she had raised a kind, cute and responsible boy.

"Okay mom, it's time for me to go to school because I don't want to be late" he approached his mom and gave his a kiss on the cheek while grabbing his backpack.

"Have a nice day, son!" His mother shouted as Louis left the house and headed to school, once he entered his friends greeted him and began to talk about movies and video games, until the bell rang, so everyone went to their classrooms.

The hours passed, Louis had lunch at school with his classmates, took some more classes and so the day went by and now the clock read 3 pm, Indicating that it was time to leave, the bells rang and so everyone began to gather their things and began to go home

"Hey Louis" his friend said as he ran up behind him and gave him a small pat on the back.

"What's up, John? Do you have something to tell me? I need to get home and start doing the homework the teacher's gave us."

"No, nothing, I just wanted to ask you if you would like us to go together" John commented.

"Is that it? No problem, I can go alone, you don't need to accompany me, I'm not a little kid." Louis started laughing

"Well, if you want it that way, no problem, see you tomorrow, take care!" John commented as he left school and headed home.

Louis closed his locker, put his backpack on his back and started walking towards his house, he left school and headed towards his house, as he was walking he passed near a new gym.

"Wow, another gym, we don't need more of those, we need more comic book stores" Louis muttered to himself And before he could take another step, someone behind him covered his eyes and pulled him into the gym.

Once Louis was inside, he felt himself being sat in a chair, his hands tied, and he could clearly hear the gym door being locked.

"Help! Who are you and what do you want from me?"

The guy who had blindfolded him removed the blindfold so that Louis could see who had "kidnapped" him.

When the blindfold was removed, he saw that he was inside the gym.

The light in the gym was somewhat warm but at the same time somewhat dark, The guy felt a little scared, he wanted to ask for help but he knew that the boy in front of him could knock him down quickly, In front of him was a tall, muscular, bearded guy, he looked like one of those guys people called "jocks" and was able to confirm it, since it gave off a smell... Strange.

"He smelled like sweat..." Louis murmured.

But an acidic sweat and he also smelled like some semen, the smell of the gym was very intense and that made he head spin, When he looked around there were some exercise machines, benches, weights and all that stuff.

"To start with... You might be wondering, Who am I? Why did I kidnap you, well, I'm shake, the owner of this new gym I am 30 years old and why did I kidnap you? Well, We don't need such disappointing and nerdy people in this world, ya know?"

Louis didn't know what he meant by that, he wanted to get up from the chair to hit him but... His hands were tied and also...

The height of both was very obvious, the boy was super small next to the muscular guy, the nerd was barely 1'45 while the boy in front of him seemed to be 1'88, So even if I wanted to I couldn't knock it down.

"What do you mean the world doesn't need people like me? Explain yourself properly" Louis said in an angry tone.

"Well, you'll see," Shake said with a mocking smile, as he began to untie his hands.

The moment he untied his hands, Louis stood up and tried to run, but unfortunately Shake grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

"Not so fast, nerd"

While with one arm he held Louis' shoulder, the other arm lifted him up and directed Louis towards his hairy, sweaty armpit.

"You inhale the smell, bro... Don't stop, soon you'll be a dumb, muscled guy like me... And above all, my frequent bro"

While Shake was saying that to Louis, Louis was trying to get away from him, but something told him that he wouldn't stop smelling his armpit so he kept doing it, while shake began to say words that Louis did not understand.

"you are a straight brother"

"You like girls"

"You like the smell that your big muscular body gives off"

"That makes you more masculine and manly"

As Shake said those words, Louis began to change.

His straight black hair began to turn a brownish hue as its shape changed from straight to wavy, He also began to grow in height, almost matching the size of the guy from the gym.

His face began to creak a little, as all the little baby fat began to oxidize to give him a more masculine and mature face, His pimples disappeared, his jaw became more defined while his skin also began to soften, His small lips began to enlarge and become fleshy, his nose changed, his brown eyes also changed to a brown color.

His skinny body began to burn, as he began to grow and muscles began to emerge, his clothes could not hold on any longer and tore as his shredded clothes fell to the ground revealing his new body.

He now had two big, juicy pecs, while his shoulders became broader, his torso expanded, his arms became more toned while now his triceps and biceps looked good, His back also expanded and grew giving him a back carved by the gods themselves.

His belly that was thin, now had a pack of 8 well-worked abs while on his sides he had some v-lines, As he continued to sniff Shake's armpit, his Adam's bell grew larger and stood out even more.

"That's it bro... Change and keep smelling my scent, I know you like it"

The changes were still happening, now his legs began to hurt, while his thighs grew to the size of a tree trunk, his calves also exploded, His jeans ripped as they could no longer hold the size, revealing his large, muscular legs as some brown hair emerged from them.

"You're a bro, all your friends are bro's, you're a frat guy"

"You love to leave all your candy inside the girls, you love to breed"

The moment Shake said that, Louis could feel a little excitement in his cock, he could feel it starting to grow in size and so it did, His cock began to grow and thicken, its vulnerable size of 10 centimeters stopped growing, now he had a large anaconda of 20 centimeters, erect and sore.

Now, his feet began to burn and hurt, as they grew in size, his toes lengthened while his feet gained some more flesh to make them look more masculine and worthy of a athletic man, And just like all his clothes, his shoes and socks also ripped off revealing his cute and juicy 15cm feet, The moment his feet came out of his sneakers, they began to give off an unpleasant and stinky smell, just like Shake smelled.

"You love the gym, your whole life is the gym, the girls, your brothers, the parties and the alcohol"

"You hate nerds, you make fun of them and you hit them"

After that, Shake let him go, Louis was surprised to see himself in the mirror that the gym had in front of him.

"What have you done to me!?... Wait- my voice... It sounds different, it sounds deeper"

"Of course bro, you already saw yourself in the mirror, right? A muscular and stinky bro ike us must have a deep, masculine voice, I just need the finishing touch"

Shake took a perfume out of his shorts pocket and began spraying it all over the gym.

"wait, what are you-"

The moment Louis inhaled it, his mind began to blur as his head ached, He put his hands on his head and began to growl.

"Uhh...."

His old memories were beginning to fade, he tried to hold on to them, but the scent of the perfume was too strong, new memories began to flood her mind.

He began to remember that he was always a spoiled child, he was always in the best schools and that his parents were millionaires, he remembered the countless times he had left several girls pregnant.

He began to remember that he started training at the age of 18 and now at 21 he had a body that he loved.

He remembered that he was in college and in the best fraternity, he remembered the countless parties he had had with his brothers.

His mind began to fill with girls and their big boobs, making him feel needy.

Brown hair began to grow in his armpits while a sweaty smell began to come out of them.

He started thinking about his girlfriend and her big boobs, making him came, saying goodbye to his old self.

"Bro! "You've made a mess in my gym"

"Sorry bro, but I couldn't help but cum at the thought of my girlfriend, but it shouldn't bother you, this will give a unique smell to your gym" Jake laughed as he punched him on the shoulder

"Whatever bro, here, go put these pants and boxers on, it's time to train"

Jake grabbed the gray-colored sweatpants and the boxers, headed toward the locker room. Once there he put on his pants and boxers, he saw some AirPods that he recognized as his own, He put them on while grabbing his phone that was in his locker.

"damn it, I look so goooooddd, My girlfriend is very lucky to have me"

[girl-lostconnection]

Definitely not the last part, I like this au a little too much, I think. And you, guys, seemed to like the first part so here’s some more

Unsweetened Lemonade AU (part 2)

part 1 || part 3

Warnings: bullying, allegory to abuse, eating as coping mechanism, Punk!Ghost x Nerd!Reader, violence

Simon walks back home wrapped in soft scarf, still faintly smelling like you.

He’s warm for the first time in what feels like forever, his cheeks no longer burning from harsh English winter winds, nose no longer numb from cold, dull headaches he always gets in winter subsiding.

It’s unnerving and new and he’s not sure if he wants to snatch the scarf off or hold on.

Fucking bliss.

But scarf is warm and it’s soft and it’s enough to keep him from getting hypothermia on his way home.

It’s nice. It’s bloody lovely and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

And maybe Simon should have tossed it away as soon as he got home but he doesn’t.

He can’t really afford to throw away the first nice thing he got (he’s got it, right? It’s his now, you won’t take it away, won’t you?) in a long time.

Simon folds it neatly and hides it under the mattress, fingers lingering on warm fabric of it, uncomfortable tightness in his chest making it harder to push air down his throat.

It’s nice. He’s not used to nice.

He can’t get used to nice. He can’t afford to get used to nice and hope and dream and- (hope is a silent but very sadistic killer. Hope takes away everything, pulling out every thread of your being until you are naked in the snow and your lips are blue and your cheeks freezing and you feel like begging and crying and pleading).

No, nice isn’t for Ghost. Just not in the cards, probably. Wasn’t meant to be for someone like him.

Still Simon isn’t sure if he can just leave the fluffy thing at home, not with the way dad is ravaging around the house, nitpicking at every bloody thing, going through their things and ruining-ruining-ruining.

Simon feels like everything that his dad touches gets stained.

Gets dirty and broke and useless.

Turns into rubbish.

Simon feels like rubbish a lot nowadays.

Simon packs the scarf in his worn out backpack, thrusting it deep at the bottom of it. He isn’t sure he’s ready to wear it out just like that, at least not this close to home. Or close to you.

It feels like weakness. Why does it feel like weakness?It’s just a scarf. It’s his scarf now, he can wear it, it doesn’t mean anything.

Simon allows himself a weakness when he smokes behind school, scarf wrapped around his neck, fabric clinging to harsh lines of his face. Smoke gets soaked up in fabric quickly, like it’s definitely his now. Smelling like him, clinging to him, keeping him nice and warm.

No one can take it away from him now. Not even you — he’ll fight if he needs to, but he’s keeping the bloody thing.

Ghost is greedy for any scrap of kindness that he can stomach, tender bloodying insides of his heart ready to absorb every crumb and every drop.

He’s so hungry for it, always so fucking hungry — it never goes away, no matter how much he eats. No matter if he can eat at all.

He makes himself go back inside before the bell rings, shoulders square and tense — almost an instinct now, sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

School is the same grey nothing — teenagers can be cruel but Ghost is one mean dog of a lad.

Disproportionate and angry, limbs too long, palms too big, punches never pulled and teeth always bared.

And it’s nothing, it’s just one of these days when people are bored and when you get the usual cruel thing thrown in your face, like you aren’t even there.

Like it’s okay to stain someone like that.

And Ghost isn’t your friend, you are no one to each other — opposite sides of the same “loser” spectrum, he just wears his better (or he thinks he does, not like anyone has enough guts to tell him otherwise).

Ghost is no one to you and he doesn’t do nice, he’s the furthest thing from knight in shining armour because frankly, maybe something is fucking wrong with you since you never fight.

But then your things are getting spilled on the floor and someone steps on the notebook — cover worn-out, well-loved and there’s sudden aching rage in your eyes that makes a hungry mutt part of him lean in.

Oh.

Oh.

So there’s someone inside that shell of a person. The lights can be turned on, eh?

Mutt inside him raises its big head, tugs air in, smelling your anger, smelling your tears, smelling the blood pumping in your ears so loudly it’s difficult to breathe.

Because it’s too early, it’s too much, it’s too hurtful and you can’t help it but you are madmadmad, angry sharp tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, palms curling in first (silly, you don’t know how to fight, you never fight, what’s use in your fists)

And there’s no actual way you could do something in your situation and your bully’s boot presses harder on the notebook, pages starting to tear under deliberate malicious pressure.

Simon doesn’t think twice before his fist connects to your bully’s face, sickening crunch of the bone visceral in suddenly quiet hallway.

Simon hits so they won’t even think twice. So they never get up and fight. So they stay down.

Where they fucking belong.

And no one stops him. Part of him scoffs at this in irritation, because of fucking course.

Just like no one stopped the asshole who has been making your life hell.

No one wants to get in his way because everybody knows that Simon “Ghost” Riley is aggressive cunt with chip on his shoulder and deep seated eyes of a feral mutt.

You don’t look at him when you scramble to get away, further, frantically pushing your things back in your bag — notebooks and stationary all over the less than clean floors. God, what their janitor even does on the clock, look at the state of the damn thing.

Simon doesn’t say anything but picks up your notebooks and pushes them in your hands before leaving without a single word.

It’s nothing, just favour returned.

Now you can’t ask for the scarf back — he’s paid it off.

Ghost can’t handle people being nice to him. Ghost isn’t sure he wants to handle people being mean to you either.

And it would be the end of it, but for some reason during lunch you plop down across from him, sinking feeling in your stomach when he sends you a glare.

But you aren’t moving anywhere — you want to eat in peace and no one in their right fucking mind would try to disturb perpetually brooding Simon Riley when he eats.

So you sit with him and don’t scurry off when he huffs out air in short annoyed pant, brows furrowing, eyes boring into you.

But you don’t talk to him and don’t look at him and don’t try to extend your hand.

You just want to eat in peace. You just want a moment’s quiet. A moment’s security.

So Simon doesn’t bite and deliberately doesn’t look your way either.

You two aren’t friends and he’s not a bloody knight in shining armour — you probably have nothing in common. Ghost is not planning on finding out for sure.

But for some reason you push towards him your apple, making it roll across the table with the same sound Simon hears in his head when he’s overwhelmed.

It practically falls in his lap and then on the floor before he manages to catch it.

Simon wants to ask what the fuck you do you think you are doing.

Simon wants to snarl and make you choke on your fucking pity, because he doesn’t need it.

But you aren’t looking at him, you are doing your best to stare down on your plate, shovelling food with the same raw desperate intensity he knows all too well.

You don’t look at him and you don’t extend your hand.

So Simon doesn’t bite. Simon takes the apple and hides it in his backpack, not saying anything.

Just another favour to repay later, that’s all, right?

Tags: @itsmadamehydra

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Geum Song Je X Reader | MDNI 18 +

Dark Themes, Red flag (obviously, its Seong Je), violence, sex, rough, manipulation.

The final part of the Possession series. Seong Je whisks you away from your demise and you find new reason to live. It's time to tame the wolf.

Part 1 is here | Part 2 is here

The driver of the taxi looked at you with a mild worry that was quickly lost when Seong Je shoved a wad of cash in his face and barked out an address; the only concern he had now was for himself and getting out of whatever situation this was, as quickly as possible. You lay slumped over in the backseat – Seong Je beside you – tears streaming down your face with no sign of stopping. 

Seong Je said nothing. 

You were aware of his eyes on you. They raked over your broken form, taking in the details, only stopping at your sullen face. If you had looked at him, you’d have noticed his smirk. Dark, and desirous, his eyes gave off the look of a crazed man while his mind raced. 

You, you punched Eunjang’s great White Mamba. The tiny thing he’d been keeping in his control for so many days did that. Nothing was more interesting. He felt completely vindicated in his decision to keep you by him now. 

The ride wasn’t long. The streets blurred past as you reached your destination where Seong Je carried you out in his arms, resting your head on his chest.  The scene took you back to  the day of Baek Jin’s funeral. The way he held you – just as he did now, close to his chest in this warm captivity. His reserved touch that you could tell held back the hunger for more. Carrying you away from the man you loved. 

That day, he’d laid you down as if you were made of glass, and then promised to wait for you no matter how long it took… 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You didn’t know where you were. A grey apartment building stood tall in front of you. The only flash of colour came from a bunch of half peeling notices and posters stuck haphazardly on the outside of the door. 

The lift took the two of you all the way up to the 7th floor where Seong Je stepped out and carried you out to a unit which he punched in the code for with a practised ease. 

He hadn’t spoken yet. Part of him was angry that you gave his boys the slip – a logical reaction to your disobedience, but he couldn’t help being ecstatic about the events that unfolded after. 

The thrill he’d feel when he’d face an opponent thrummed just under the surface, only this time there had been no fight. Rather, he’d come to your rescue, pulling you away from an altercation.

Seong Je pushed the door open. The house was dark and mostly bare. There was a small sofa to the right, upon entry. This was flanked by two plush couches on the sides and a dark TV screen reflected the little diffused light coming from outside. In the centre was a coffee table covered in old magazines and papers. An ash-tray that was long overdue a cleaning spilled its sooty contents onto the glass tabletop in the centre. Seong Je let you down on the sofa and sat beside you, reaching over you to turn on a lamp on your side. The dim yellowish glow washed his face in warm light. 

He finally spoke, “If you wanted to go to see Si-eun so badly, all you had to do was ask, jagiya. I’d have taken you.” 

The tips of your ears burned and Seong Je sounded like he was underwater. You glared at him. “Why didn’t you let me fuck him up?” 

He ignored the question, continuing in the same careful tone one uses with a hurt child. “You aren’t the only one who misses him, jagiya. His ledgers, his accounts, it's fucking tough doing all that shit. He was the nerd. I'm not into that shit. It’s like he wrote a different language…”

He moved closer to you, pulling out a file full of papers from the coffee table in front. Sheet after sheet of paper displayed before you with writing you would recognise anywhere. Baek Jin had poured over these with you day after day. You knew them inside out. 

An exasperated cry came from the man beside you. “Nothing he ever did was easy, was it? Haha…” you could see in the corner of your eye he was clutching his hair. The mirthless laugh sent a chill down your spine.

You inhaled deeply trying to calm your nerves. These were simple calculations, bothersome at best buy with a little effort and a calculator... Your eyes scanned the pages, running over each line, each list, each note Baek Jin had made. Comprehension dawned on you. Your eyes widened. 

Na Baek Jin had assured you a job. 

His job. 

His position. 

A silent storm raged in your head. Just how much of this had he predicted? His untimely death? His inability to continue leading the union? Seong Je pouncing on what was his, the moment he saw an opening, and keeping you close so eventually when he needed help he would show you exactly this and give you the opportunity to claim the power Na Baek Jin always intended to pass onto you? 

You forced yourself to regulate your breaths. Getting ahead of yourself like this wouldn’t be of any use. You would have to play this carefully. 

“I need to use your toilet.” 

Seong Je waved in the direction of a small door – still half smirking, head in his hands as he looked over the numerous sheets.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Washing your face, you calculated what you should do now. Baek Jin was incredibly strong and incredibly smart. 

He had known that Seong Je would be that rabid wolf who salivated all over the prospect of gaining his power. However at the same time, the pup wouldn’t have the brains to hold and manage such a large institution. 

The realisation came slow; setting in like the sunset you had wanted so much to see. You made up your mind, you wouldn’t lose Baek Jin again. 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You shut the door behind you, wiping away the smudged mascara from your eyes, mind firm, but it didn’t hide the nervous tremble in your shoulders. Seong Je was still on the couch. His blazer lay crumpled on the coffee table in front and thin tendrils of smoke wafted from the lit cigarette between his lips. 

He tapped the spot beside him twice and took a long drag of the cigarette. Without dropping your gaze you made your way to him, undoing the buttons of your grey school jacket and shrugging it off. 

Your skirt hitched up as you ignored the spot he’d tapped and instead placed yourself astride his lap.  Seong Je’s eyes widened, however you gave him no opportunity to say anything, choosing instead to dip your head so your lips reached his ear and whispered, “It seems like you need help. All these ledgers, these accounts – Baek Jin’s plans… Let me help you. I understand Baek Jin. Everything he’s written, he’s taught me.” 

Seong Je raised an eyebrow. But you didn’t let him voice the obvious concern that’d popped in his head. A small hiss left his lips, when he felt your teeth gently graze against his helix, surprise only mounting as he felt you gently run your tongue along the rim of his ear where your teeth had grazed.

“Why? Did you think spreading my legs was all I did when we were together?”  

Seong Je probably couldn’t physically blush, but that was the closest he’d ever been to doing so. His hand found rest on your waist, running up your thigh, while the other put out his cigarette after another long drag. He pursed his lips and blew the smoke in your face, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear. . 

“What are you proposing, jagiya?” 

You resisted the urge to cough, breathing in the acrid smoke clouding around your head. You hated it but held in any open display of distaste and said,  “A partnership.”

Seong Je laughed, “A part– partnership! You want to be my partner?” 

You nodded. 

“So, you’re finally reciprocating? You’re finally mine?” 

You didn’t hesitate before leaving a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

Seong Je pulled back sharply, blinking twice before the sparkle grew in his eye. “Ah. Jagiya... How unexpectedly bold you have suddenly become. Are you courting death?” 

You shook your head. 

“Really? I thought otherwise, seeing you swing that right hook at Yoon Si Eun without a care.” His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer and you could feel an obvious bulge press against your thigh. 

“Jagiya, don’t fucking take your eyes off me.” With that, he attacked your mouth. 

It was a clash of lips and teeth. Rough. Unruly. Just like him – nothing like Baek Jin. The ferocity in his movements burned. His movements were crude. Desperation in every touch. 

He pushed his hips up against your clothed crotch. Fingers tangled in your hair bringing you closer. His hand ran down your front touching the space between your breasts as he kissed his way down to the buttons of your blouse. 

He fumbled with the buttons in his haste to remove the offending cloth, stopping only when you came to help him. The first two buttons open, your collar fell apart to reveal just a glimpse of the soft mounds of your breasts. 

His lips dropped. Face buried in your voluptuous cleavage he inhaled deeply. The scent of your perfume, coupled with the sweat of the day drove him insane. Seong Je moaned against your neck – a shameless, dirty,  wanton sound. But it only got you wetter. 

His hands found yours, and placed them around his neck while he grabbed hold of your ass, lifting you off the couch and carrying you to the bedroom. You were pushed against the wall. Your head met the brick painfully. Teeth grinding he spat out an order that you would be a fool to disobey. 

“Kiss.”

Your hands carded through his hair fisting the dark locks as lips met. You rested your elbows on his shoulders, pulling him closer. The taste of his cigarette smoke invaded your senses again, spreading onto your tongue. He pushed your panties aside, swiping his fingers against your cunt. Two fingers circled your clit as he kissed your neck following a steady rhythm below. 

“Look at you.” he spoke within stuttered kisses. 

“So ready, so wet for me.” 

Kiss. 

“So pretty…” 

Kiss. 

“I’ve wanted you..”

Kiss. 

“...for so long.”

A swift movement pulled you onto the bed. You pawed at the hardness in his trousers, but Seong Je held your hands and pulled them to his hair once again. 

 He pinned you to the bed as he loosened your tie. The fabric swished under your collar and submitted to his pull. He tossed it aside. Seong Je turned you over halfway and used the tie to tie your hands behind your back. 

Panic flushed through you. “Seong Je, what– what are you doing?”

“Shhh.”He coaxed. “Don’t worry. I will never hurt you. I just like my pretty things on a leash.” He moved to your shirt.  

“Your parents could—”

“They won’t. Now shut up. Don’t make me have to gag you too." The coaxing tone gone, his threat was dark – loaded. You withdrew, not wanting to risk it. His lips hovered at the shell of your ear. 

You could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered. “I don't want to, I’d much rather hear the pretty noises you’ll make for me… I told you. I’ll take care of you. Won’t you trust me?” 

The shadows lengthened as Geum Je trailed his fingers down your shirt and unbuttoned the rest of your  blouse. The cold air hit your skin, only to be warmed gently by the radiating heat of Seong Je’s body. He dipped his head, leaving kisses with each button he undid. 

You pulled at your skirt – impatient, and he chuckled. Ducking his head between your thighs he pulled down the zipper holding it in place down and you shimmied it off. His lips pressed into your thigh. The kiss he left felt almost reverent. He pushed your panties aside and shoved his fingers in your cunt, curling them slowly. The gasp you let out was met with a lick of his lips and Seong Je buried his head between your breasts inhaling deeply. 

“Worth it…” The words were said so softly you barely caught it. 

Seong Je stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe from your belly button to your bra. The simple fabric held no interest for him and he took it in his teeth as he pulled down at it, simultaneously lifting you with his free hand and undoing the clasp. The veins in his arm popped as his left hand encircled your throat and he pulled down your bra, revealing your pretty breasts. You fell back with a bounce onto the mattress. Bra dangling like a half ripped gift wrap. 

“Worth it…” 

Your breath rose, shuddering, stuttering, “Seong Je…” You kept pulling against the ties on your wrists. 

Seong Je scoffed. His fingers were still inside you, repeating the motions like a metronome. “Look at you. Drenched, aren’t you? Where's all the confidence from earlier?” 

There was a sharp thwack against your cheek. You heard it before you felt it. The pain radiated across your face. You had heard of his strength. You had seen it too. But the first time feeling it was a horse of a different colour. 

Seong Je followed it with a devouring kiss. The room was so dark now you couldn’t see a thing. You could barely make out where Seong Je was as he headed further down. To your throat, then your breasts where his fingers found your nipples and he pinched them – hard while alternating between nipping and kissing your heated skin. The cries of pain from you only egged him on more and the feral wolf tugged at your panties tearing them off you with a loud rip. 

“Seong Je…” you moaned, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. 

He got off you and stepped back to get a good look. “Worth it.” 

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, your eyes strained to see him properly. 

“Waiting for you, for all this time. It was worth it.” You heard him laugh. “Spread your legs. Don't make me have to do it.”

You had no choice but to follow. Seong Je laughed. He began undressing himself as he spoke to you. “So, partnership means a division of assets right?” 

You took in a sharp breath. Some tiny light coming from outside reflected off his well defined abs, highlighting every muscle. You couldn’t help stare. 

“Oi, legs apart. And answer me.” 

You snapped out of your daze, looking to where you believed his face would be. He wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore. You weren’t sure when he’d taken them off. 

“Fifty percent of profits. That’s what I want. I’ll handle the books. You handle the boys.” 

Seong Je laughed again. “You’ve really thought this through haven’t you? Okay. Cool. I’m agreeable with that.”

You felt the bed dip as his body moved closer to you again. Naked now. His cock stood – rock hard at attention, a bead of precum fell onto your stomach. 

Seong Je bent down again to your ear.

“And me. You can add me in what you get. And I’ll have you, ja-gi-ya. One hundred percent.”

His cock pushed into you with no warning. “Thank you for regaining your confidence. You’re unbelievably hot when you take charge like that, you know.. 

His hands encircled your throat, pressing down on the two hollow spots under your jaw. You quickly felt yourself get light headed. 

“Hundred percent you,” Seong Je punctuated with a thrust. “And hundred percent me. Sounds fair right?” 

You gasped feeling the air in your lungs run out, but ever so slowly tried to nod your head. Seong Je pressed down on you with his full weight. 

Panic ran through you and you thrashed against the sheets but he was much stronger, limiting your movement. 

“Hundred percent you, remember?” Your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you were able to make out the mad sadistic glint in his eye.  You felt your consciousness fading. 

“Seong Je…” you desperately mouthed. 

His lips met yours, hands releasing your throat. You gasped for fresh air, filling your lungs in-between his searing kisses. He slipped his hands under you, deftly undoing the tie around them. Finding your freedom you raked your fingers through his hair pulling and tugging the locks. Your hips lifted of their own volition meeting his frenzied thrusts. 

“You’re mine…” he gnashed out against your mouth. You could feel his smile and your climax hit you, similar to the way Seong je’s hits land on his opponents. A blinding, overwhelming pleasure finding  its way through your body to every extremity. 

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The moon had risen high enough in the sky to wash the room in an unearthly silver glow. Outside, the lights of the city had died down Orgasm after orgasm had left you both exhausted and lying in a mess of blankets and pillows. You smoked the remainder of the last cigarette you had been sharing with Seong Je. 

Smoke filled the room. You could smell it alongside the scent of fading perfume, your sweat, and sex. Seong Je lay with his head on your chest. His face was almost innocent looking in this position. 

You stroked his hair. He really was just a little pup. Easy to manipulate. Easy to fool. If all it took was you undressing and letting him put his cock in you… You felt his head move and looked down. He was looking back up at you. “You’re beautiful, jagiya…” The ever-present amusement in his voice.

You took a long drag. You had him. Naturally, now he was yours…

The End

𓂃🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙𓂃

Thank you for reading, If you liked this please let me know I might do more.  Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.  Part 1 is here | Part 2 is here

[silkliingerie]

Mark grayson headcanons ★

ᯓ. Mark grayson/invincible x gn! Reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖🌀

Sfw+nsfw headcanons

(Small bit of female, but rest is gn! headcanons)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated ✶ ᶻz .ᐟ

divider by @/bbyg4rlhelps on tumblr💙

SFW ★

★ he always craves you, not even just sexually but physically, too. Just your smell, your vibe, your company. Just you.

★ hates seeing you sad, angry, etc. He thinks he might've done something to make you feel that way. So he does everything in his power to get you out of it.

★ such a cuddle bug, like my baby loves being touched and touching you.

★ this boy is soo clingy. He's always following you, holding on to your hand or sleeve.

★ loves hugs. Every time you're at a counter or a table, he always walks behind you and hugs you from behind.

★ you'd always let him babble away about his day or seance dog. Yk, nerd shit.. and he noticed how you'd genuinely listen and was interested in what he'd talk about. It made him giddy and happy.

★ Always gives you cheek kisses every time you guys hug or cuddle.

★ will always fly you anywhere you want, whether it's another city or country. Even if it's just going to the grocery store, he'll never let his princess walk.

★ very affectionate with you,he’s a man after all. He loves to show his gal how much he loves you.

★ if you guys are talking to the GOTG gang or yalls friends, just a lil hand hold or eye contact with you will have this man melting for you. He just loves you soo muchh.

★ SO MUCH PRINCESS TREATMENT WITH THIS MANN. he'll always open doors for you, breakfast in bed, and brushing your hair.

★ He likes taking showers with you, but not in a pervy way. He just likes it when you help scrub and wash his hair, and your hair too!

★ His favorite little nicknames to call you are baby, princess/prince , my love

★ always so quick to do anything for you. Want food? He already out the door. Cold? Blanket is already covering you. Need a hug? Immediately wrapping his arms around you and kissing you gently. He'll do anything for his sweet girl/boy to be satisfied.

Fem headcanons

★ always making sure you're prepared for when you're on your period, making sure you have the right medicine, pads, and snacks.

★ㅤ hates it when you get cramps, hates seeing you in pain. Always holding you in his arms, kissing your head as he cradles you.

"Sshhh.. it's okay, sweet girl."

"I know it hurts, baby.. I know.."

NSFW ★

(Mostly fem)

★ loves seeing how flustered you get by him just doing the smallest things, like when he flexes his arms or lowers his voice a little just to see your thighs clench and face blush red..

★ SHOWER SEX.

★ definitely a pleasure dom, he always puts your pleasure first before his.

★ Loves eating you out, you tasting so good to him. Your wet slick all over his face.

★ pushes your thighs back whenever he’s eatin it

★ his favorite positions are just the basics. Doggy, missionary, and... yk. 69.

★ he'll always make sure not to be too rough with you. He wants to be gentle with you.

★ always checks up on you when you guys make love, making sure you're comfortable with what he's doing.

"Tell me if it's too much okay?"

"I'll stop when you need me to baby."

★ absolutely adores your body. He loves how soft and squishy you are, especially your thighs.

★ he lovess it when you ride him in cowgirl.. holding on to your hips and thighs. Tits bouncing in his face. It's to die for.

★ HES A THIGH GUY. Don't get me wrong, he loves the rest of your body, but your thighs are his favorite.

★ he could never punish you or be rough with you.. you're his sweet girl.

★ But if he were to punish you, he'd go with edging. He loves teasing you as he edges you, seeing you being a whimpering whiney mess as you he pulls his fingers away.

"Not this time baby.. nuh uh."

"You wanna cum so bad huh? Just wanna cum for me?.."

"It's okay, pretty girl, you can take it. You're a strong girl.."

"Look at you shaking baby, you want it so fucking bad huh?"

"Fuckk you look so pretty like this."

★ tbh he's a switch, but mainly dom. (I'll have sun headcanons for him later.)

★ loves praising you, telling you how good your doing and how good you are for him.

A/N: SORRY if this is rushed babes.

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone now is super excited to use their 3D printers. With this magical new piece of science-fiction, you too can produce the exact wad of plastic you need to solve a problem. Need a tube, but at a weird angle in order to connect it to another tube? It's just six hours away, baby, unless something goes wrong and you have to get a new extruder shipped. House full of plastic pieces that are worthless because you fucked up basic measuring on them? Print a bin to put them in until you have a wobbly table to level out.

Now, don't think I'm down on this new technology. Like many hobbyists, I cherish any new power that lets me pretend to be a 1980s comic book villain. I love to be able to make, with just a thought, the exact piece of extruded microplastics that I need to hold my garbage-picked trash parts together in a new configuration. Whether or not this combination of parts ever should have existed is a matter for the philosophers.

Naturally, I don't have a 3D printer, because they cost money and require electricity, neither of which I have. Instead of this, I go on the internet and complain bitterly that certain things are impossible to make. Then, I wait until some nerds get mad and make those things just to shut me up. At this point – and this is critical – I do not shut up. I go and take my new headlight bracket, or fancy mirror-alignment clip, or replacement molar, and I complain about it endlessly. "It could be smoother," I say. Maybe their printer sucks, I propose. This usually gets me a couple more spite projects, until they are driven into the insane asylum by my endless requests for useless gewgaws.

Yes indeed: the democratized future of at-home manufacturing is finally here. Used to be, cranks like myself would have to phone a machine shop and get the old guy working the mill super angry before he would spitefully bang out a 20-hour piece of magic. Now, you have thousands of weird nerds to pick from, and all of them available for just the cost of a library card and a throwaway forum account.