#The cobras may or may not

[zappedbyzabka]

So I just read a fic about this but I have a different idea

Sid cuts Johnny off after Laura’s death and Johnny, not wanting to be a ‘freeloader’ and asking his friends for help, turns to the streets and doesn’t tell anyone about it

Sid lies to all his friends and tells them he ran away to New York and it’s not till a couple of months later that Dutch finds Johnny on the streets and take him home

Johnny really doesn’t want to prove Sid right and keeps running away so Dutch decides to basically pay him thousand of dollars to stay and fucks him every chance he gets, after all, Johnny can’t up and leave if he’s in the middle of having his back blown out by his sugar daddy

👀👀👀👀 yesss

(My instant thought was that Dutch started working for Silver’s, who was another client of Johnny’s, and that’s why he has money to give. Timeline is a little ambiguous.)

Johnny tried to hide, making sure no one who knew him ever saw him, comforting himself with the thought that he’d be too unrecognizable, covered in dirt and malnourished, selling his body to every man that offered him a buck or ten, his throat raw and hole aching by the end of every day. He kind of…enjoys that part though; he likes that all these men, sometimes married, go out and find him, want him, tell him they’d leave their wives for them, put a ring on him, and give him everything he needed—of course Johnny never took them up on the offer, but it was fun to play along sometimes. He hated thinking about the women at home waiting for their husbands, but he needed money.

Turns out that his past training comes in handy for a job like that. He was still flexible, unable to get as easily into a split as he could before, but still very flexible, able to get his pressed to either side of him on a dingy motel mattress no problem. He also had a habit of sneaking some extra cash out of their wallets; who cares? Most of them are a waste of oxygen and don't deserve the money anyway.

Then Mr. Silver came along. Johnny must admit, he was a little frightened of the man at first; he clearly had power and money. He came in a limo, smoke seeping from the window as it was lowered. Rich men were the roughest and most sadistic. Or the opposite, and liked to be degraded by someone "lesser" than them.

He walked up to the door, putting a hand on the car and leaning down, glad he smoked enough in high school to not be coughing up a long; that’d lose him a client…usually. He waited for Silver to speak first. One thing he learned is that these men like it when you let them lead, it makes them feel like you weren’t always gonna try and charge them 30 bucks for a 1 minute make-out session and another 50 for sweet talk.

But he seemed nice, and he was handsome. Johnny has always been a sucker for danger. He greeted Johnny easily, offering him $100 up front to get in the car and ordering his driver to step out and open the door for Johnny. It felt nice, it had been a long time since he was treated with any semblance of respect.

Johnny felt eager to get in the vehicle, scooting close to Silver and putting a hand on his thigh, looking up at him through golden lashes. He’s been told his eyes make him look weak, innocent; guys like that.

Silver didn’t fuck him in the limo, but Johnny left his mansion with a limp and the corner of his lips red.

Silver told him he’d take him out, gave him modest clothes, and took him to McDonald’s. He bought him whatever he wanted, like it was a reward or comfort added to the filthy money. But Johnny didn’t care; he was hungry and lonely, and Silver thankfullly didn’t say anything when he started crying over his food. The last time he'd went to McDonald’s was with Tommy. He remembered every detail: Tommy ordered a cheeseburger and a large coke, and he was wearing one of those striped shirts he liked so much—pastel white, pink, and blue. He remembers the way the fluorescent light shined on Tommy’s thinning hair. He remembered thinking Tommy’s smile was his favorite. Tommy's voice made him feel twelve years old with his very first friends again. He was so tired that day, and Johnny couldn’t figure out why, but he still joked. Now he’s in a hospital, probably thinking Johnny abandoned him. The tables were different; everything was.

Silver offered Johnny a bed for the night and breakfast in the morning, and Johnny said no. He slept at Motel 6, holding the extra pillow in his arms the entire night.

In his dreams, he and the cobras get that apartment they promised to rent together, and they’re happy. The shouting is of joy, and the sounds of footsteps aren’t so scary anymore. All his friends are shielding him again.

Dutch had loved Johnny since high school and never stopped. He had a lot of competitors back then—italian slips of paper hoping to shove their stupid big dicks into Johnny and making Dutch want to punch their lights out—but the main ones were the other cobras. He’s still sure to this day that they felt the same way about their leader as he did. There was a reason they were so loyal: Tommy looked at him like the sun shone out his ass, and Bobby was so lenient with him even when he chided others. but all of them got it, all of them understood.

He’s told Johnny everything because he always pictured him in his future— gold gray hair and summer days. Sitting at their dining table, it would be small, so Johnny wasn’t reminded of the dining table he was always lectured and degraded at. The cloth Dutch’s grandma made on top. He can picture how the fabric would look under his and Johnny's held hands, he can picture the bands on their fingers.

He was in jail when Johnny "moved to New York". And It was hell not knowing what happened. Before that, Johnny had been visiting him, not super often but when he was able, but he’d frequently send him letters, long letters in Johnny’s surprisingly neat handwriting, all about what he’d been doing that week, whether he had gone to a concert or had a fight with Sid, he’d always tell Dutch. Sometimes they even smelled like the soap Johnny used, which made Dutch hope Johnny slept with them under his pillow before sending them. The other inmates teased him relentlessly about his "girlfriend", some even having the audacity to snatch one of the letters out of Dutch’s hands and read it; that dude got a concussion. That doesn’t even compare to when Johnny first visited him in jail. Johnny wasn't really dressed up, just had a hoodie and some jeans on, but that didn’t stop them from staring at him; their wants sickeningly clear. Then Johnny would press the tip of his shoes against his under the table and tell him he couldn’t wait to have him back, and suddenly Dutch wasn’t thinking about anyone else.

Dutch didn’t want to be away anymore. He didn't want to keep landing in jail and disappointing the cobras—the only ones he gave a shit about. And he didn’t want to keep leaving Johnny alone. Why did he always come back beaten and skinnier than before? Where were the others?

He’d been panicking when Johnny stopped showing up. He thought he’d for sure messed things up or that something terrible had happened because he wasn’t there to stop it, and he couldn’t stop picturing Johnny getting jumped somewhere and calling out for him. Would he call out for him? Does he know Dutch would help him?

After a few weeks, he called Jimmy to ask if Johnny was alright, he didn’t expect him to say Johnny ran off to New York. He didn’t believe it either

He stayed on his very best behavior, even letting himself get beat up, just so he could get out as quickly as possible and figure out what was really going on. It took too long, but he made it out, got a job from this nice fella with a ponytail, and started looking.

Apparentally, the other cobras had been suspicious too but were so busy with everything they hadn’t been able to look. Bobby had even convinced himself that maybe Johnny did run away; Dutch told him he was just being selfish and lying to himself so he didn’t have to face his own worries. Bobby didn’t deny it.

Sid was no help at all, insisting with a smile that Johnny left and sticking to it. Dutch got thrown out when he didn't give in to the bullshit.

When Dutch found Johnny again, it had been after a long day of trying to find clues, and he felt like one of those brooding detectives in those crime shows Johnny and Bobby loved so much. It’s so tiring to search and come up with nothing; it’s so hope-draining. He needed a drink, and on the way to the bar, he spotted that familiar face. Johnny looked different—somehow even skinnier than the last time Dutch saw him. Dutch couldn’t get over there fast enough. He parked his car and ran over there.

"johnny!"

Johnny had turned to him, eyes wide. "Oh my god. What are you doing here? I—You got out?"

Is he disappointed? Are those other makeup-covered faces his new friends?

"I told you I’d get out this time. I even got a good job! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Johnny. Why is your stepdad telling everyone you moved? What happened?"

Johnny looked down, shoulders slouched. "We got into another fight after…" he swallowed, "after mom died, and he kicked me out."

Dutch felt his stomach tighten. He wishes he could have been there. "Where are you staying?"

Johnny sniffled, rubbing his eyelid and smearing up his mascara. "Different places."

Dutch knows what that means: "I’m homeless."

He knows from personal experience.

"Will you come to my place then? I’ve got weed and Monoply waiting for us."

Johnny picked at his nails. "You aren’t mad at me?"

Dutch tilted his head, brows creased. "Why the hell would I be mad at you?"

"Because I disappeared. I didn’t call. I mean, I don’t get paid a lot of quarters, just cash."

Dutch pauses for a moment, looking at their surroundings and the other people near them, who are also underdressed like Johnny and tired looking. He looks at the marks on Johnny's thighs and the rest of him. It clicks. He won’t say anything, not yet.

"When was the last time I got pissed at you, John? Sure. I get irritated a lot, but rarely with you."

Johnny nods; he can’t deny that. He doesn’t want to. Dutch grabs his hand carefully. "Will you come over like old times?"

"Yeah, okay."

It was the best night either of them had had in months. They didn’t talk about the time missed or the difference in them that it brought yet; they gave themselves over and lived in the past for the night.

Dutch didn’t want him to live. Never wanted him to go back to "work" again. Johnny didn’t either, he was honest about that, but he kept repeating that he refused to be a freeloader and refused to use Dutch like that. Dutch can’t believe Johnny can’t see how he’s helped him change for the better and how this love that’s been raging in him for years is the biggest reason he has money now.

He practically begged him to stay; there’s space for him on the couch, there’s space for him on Dutch’s bed—a spot for him everywhere Dutch goes.

He told Johnny to at least stay while he looked for a better job, that he really didn’t have to pay. Johnny told him he’d have to think about it and went to take a shower.

In that time, Dutch mulled over the idea he had in his head the second Johnny brought up being a freeloader: he could pay Dutch by dating him.

He felt creepy, he’d rather Johnny not pay him anything—feel right at home. But he’s been doing it with all those countless other guys, and Dutch would just…make the payments few and far between—no matter how badly he wants it more.

Dutch focused on the dripping ends of Johnny’s hair as he brought up his idea.

"I didn’t know you liked me like that." I love you. "But I think it’s a good deal."

He cupped Dutch’s face in his hands, looking over his features. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Dutch pulled him in instead of answering, kissing him until he couldn’t anymore. "Stay."

Johnny stayed. Now he’s bouncing in Dutch’s lap, mewling shamelessly as Dutch’s cock hits his sweet spot over and over again, arching when Dutch grabs a handful of his ample ass, his other hand groping at Johnny’s pec.

"Fuck. Always loved your cute little tits, babe. Used to get so hard when you’d walk around without a shirt." Johnny whines, hole clenching like a vice around Dutch. "God, swear I had blue balls every day back then—fuck. I used to imagine how tight your ass would be too, and it’s so fucking tight—can’t get enough. You got me addicted, sweetheart. Even before I had it."

Johnny stares down at him. "So—ah!—so why didn’t you do something about it, huh? Coulda' wrestled me to the ground and pounded me, I would have loved it."

He’s suddenly thrown on his back, his wrists pinned firmly to the mattress. His hole spasms when Dutch brutally plunges right back in, giving Johnny no time to adjust as he starts up his hard, fast pace once more. No mercy. Johnny’s eyes roll back.

"Quite bein’ a bitch."

He tests Dutch’s grip; no budge.

He really can’t stop the pleased noise that comes from him.

Dutch grins, sweat glistening on his face. "Yeah. That’s right. You can’t get away from me, Lawrence."

You’re all mine now, he wants to say, but there’s a 50/50 chance that Johnny will like it or punch him right in the mouth. Dutch has always wanted him.

Johnny crosses his ankles behind Dutch’s back, relaxing against the bed with a glazed look in his eyes that he only got when Dutch did something about that attitude. "You’ve always been so strong."

"And you’ve always been so fucking hot, John. Like a damn dream."

"You dream about me?"

I have for years. I dream of being allowed to love you. "Yeah, I do. Dream about your sweet ass."

Dutch lets go of his wrists, wrapping his strong arms around Johnny’s waist and holding him as he ruts faster.

"I‘ve dreamed of you too. Heard you fucked good and couldn’t stop thinking about it." He throws an arm around Dutch’s shoulders and runs his fingers through that thick hair, kissing his cheek. Dutch has always had chubby cheeks. Reminds Johnny of a squirrel—adorable.

He can’t know about Silver; Johnny can’t lose Dutch again, not like all the others.

Moodboard

[rooolt]

can we talk about how hawk and Tory hung out like all the time in seasons 2&3 and yet literally never acknowledge each other when they’re finally on the same side again in season 6. Like even Hawk and Robby in season five had an awkward little acknowledgement of each other being on the same side and how their history made that sorta weird, AND THEY BARELY HAD ANY CONVERSATIONS WITH EACH OTHER. You’re telling me Tory and Hawk “steal a snake together”, “you better watch your back” Tory and Hawk, Tory and Hawk “partners in gang violence for months” having NOTHING to say to each other

[vimesbootstheory]

Cobra Kai Season 6 Date Announcement

[bubblegumflavor]

Endless Summer ♡

[yeonslayjun]

Xie Lian Honey that's very sus

This scene made me squeal bc -

My man Hua Cheng did not think twice before sucking the poison for Xie Lian and the way he blasted the Cobra Scorpion was very Hot

Xie Lian going " A h~" .Do I need to elaborate more? cuz the panel makes it very how can I say.... SUS.

[judahlux]

I constantly think they can give us the friendly fucking sparring to make those headcanons come true BUT THEY INSIST THEY NEED TO FIGHT TO KNOW WHO IS THE STUPID TOP IN THIS RELATIONSHIP AGAIN

[day-dreamsinthedark]

If you write x Reader, may I request some head cannons for Demetri Alexopoulos x reader where the reader is Sam's older sibling?

Hi! So I am not very great with head-canons, nor am I comfortable with writing in the 2nd perspective, but I really enjoy this idea so I thought I would try? My sincerest apologies if this is not what you wanted, but if you'd like to request anything else, I'd love to try it! Also, so sorry for the wait!

ALSO. There are a few curse words, I am SO SORRY if you aren't comfortable with them. Please let me know!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Demetri seems like the type of guy to fall in love with any girl that is even remotely nice to him, so imagine his surprise when LaRusso!Reader is the first person he meets when he starts at West Valley High School's coding club. As Samantha's older sister, or her Irish twin, as their parents love to tell everyone, you had always been a little self-conscious.

The eldest sister. A title once loved, now something more like a curse. Unachievable and utterly unbearable. You have always been entirely uncoordinated and just uncomfortable in your own skin, so karate has always been just out of your reach. Not that Daniel has ever minded– Kata has always been a comfort. Something to do in private, calming and kind.

This meant that LaRusso!Reader has never been very comfortable in the karate scene, but also around the family in general. It was easy to get lost in your own little world– books, games, television, and all things that made you unlike your sister.

-

He'd known you for over a year before he figured it out. He assumed that you were just the hot nerdy junior that none of the other guys could really appreciate, knowing absolutely nothing but your first name before Miguel kicked the social skills into him. And as someone who was equally as shy, you felt absolutely fine ignoring everyone and getting your work done.

I imagine that in this scenario, where there's a pretty girl who occasionally exchanges smiles and pleasantries, Demetri doesn't even really notice Yasmine (or her friend who looks suspiciously like LaRusso!Reader)

He's so caught up in his crush on Reader that Eli's got to consistently remind him that being nice is not the same thing as having feelings, even if you always went out of your way to compliment whatever fandom-related memorabilia or clothing he brought to school. Like that time you complimented his Doctor Who shirt (and then wore your favorite GOT shirt the next day– to which he did not compliment, because he was so stupidly starstruck.)

Still, there wasn't much interaction between the two of you for the first year and a half that you had known each other. 

-

It wasn't until you finally gave in and decided to train with Sam and Robby that everything had changed. You'd only agreed to the basics, some Kata and maybe a bit of sparring. Robby was kind and made Sam a lot happier than you'd expected her to be, so what possible harm could there be in trying?

So there you were, minding your business in your dojo's yard. Eyes closed as you stretched– a backbend, a stretch that Sam was never able to get, and likely the only athletic thing you’d ever been able to do– ignoring your sister’s conversation with her "not" boyfriend and your father. 

“It’s time we be patient.” Your dad said, “Let those who need us find us. Alright?”

At this, you thought it might be an important time to join the conversation, preparing yourself for the hard part: flipping back over. You hadn’t quite mastered that yet, but it wasn’t… impossible. 

Then, a familiar voice. One that you hadn't heard in months because he and Eli had quit the team without a word. Not that you had spoken much anyway, but still it hurt. 

“Excuse me? Uh, it was unclear if the gate was the front–” He stopped abruptly, missing a porch step and managing to call out your name in confusion just as he hit the floor. You, on the other hand, fell over on your arms just as the realization set in.

“Ow. Jesus.” “Fuck’s sake.” The two of you spoke at the same time.

Neither of you had stood yet, but you craned your neck at him as Demetri called your name out again– from his spot on the ground.

 “Are you… what are you– you know karate?”

Instead of responding, you groaned out in pain. “Mhm. Little.”

You’d fallen quite awkwardly, hurting your shoulder in the process, so by the time you had fixed yourself, you opted to stay on the floor. It was infuriating. Instead of actually trying to help either of you, everyone in the yard simply passed looks. From you, to Demetri, and then to each other. Sam and Robby’s eyebrows lifted so high you were shocked they managed to stay on their faces. Your father seemed mostly confused, but Sam chewed on her bottom lip in an attempt to swallow the shit-eating grin that was pushing its way out. 

“Thanks,” You said, shooting a glare at the two people beside you. “I appreciate the absolute lack of worry on everyone’s faces right now.”

“I’m” –Demetri started, voice frantic and cracking as he moved forward slowly. It was odd. You couldn’t recall the two of you ever having spoken more than a few words to each other at once. –“You’re… you were in the Coding Club.”

“Correction. I am in the Coding Club.” You smiled at him, patting your knees clean as you stood up. You leaned forward ever so slightly, “You’re the one that quit.”

His eyes go wide and his face runs red. And that is precisely where your story would start. 

–

Demetri seems pretty obsessive in general, so the two of you would be attached by the hip, regardless of whether or not either of you were aware of each others interest. Mr. LaRusso would probably lose his mind at the idea that he started a dojo just for his male students to be infatuated with his daughters. The arguments would probably start with a lot of, “I’m running a dojo, not a fucking dating show!”

Demetri x OlderLaRusso!Reader would also be incredible bc it would have such an intense change on the dojo wars!!! Demetri would be so caught up in trying to spend time with you that he wouldn’t give so much attention to Hawk’s shenanigans. The mall fight would probably change a ton. Demetri still would have submitted that Yelp review, but the mall scene would’ve gone a little differently because instead of third wheeling Sam and Robby, he’d be following you around like a lost puppy. 

I also love the idea that Hawk– who very likely also had a small crush on you at some point– is fucking flabbergasted when he sees the two of you together at the mall. Maybe the two of you are laughing over some ridiculous comic, or he finds you just as your hands graze. At this point in his journey, he definitely wouldn’t care, but I think he’d resent the idea that Demetri is allowed to have any sort of romantic interest as a nerd. If Hawk wasn’t good enough, then Demetri shouldn’t be either. 

Ugh, I love the little emotional journey those boys go through. 

ANYWHO. 

Even if Hawk is fully infatuated with Moon at this point, seeing you with Demetri would fuel his rage. I'm also fairly certain that seeing you would trigger some sort of response from the Eli that knew you.

You would be a reminder of who he used to be, but especially who the three of you were together. Oh he definitely would have also been into you, because why wouldn't he be? Those boys did everything together. It was probably this sort of "We can both like her because she'd never date either of us" rule. Like a celebrity crush lol

Not only did you fucking like Demetri, but you were incredible at karate. How? Who taught you?

Imagine Hawk’s shock at getting his ass handed to him by the shy girl who led half of the Coding Club meetings? The realization that you're not only better than him at karate, but very obviously into Demetri, who has done absolutely nothing to be worthy of having positive attention would drive him insane. The fact that you did all this while still being entirely unashamed of your "nerd" title would not help.

Demetri’s shock, I think, would go something like this:

“I thought you said you weren’t good at karate?” He’d say as he hides behind a rack of sunglasses. You’d run towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards where Sam and Robby should be. 

“I’m not. You’re just…”

“Okay! I get it!” He’d interrupt, face red and horrified. 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You can probably tell that I'm not used to writing in head-canon style lol I think I am more comfortable with little scenes? I also ran out of ideas bc it's been a while since I've seen the show, but I'm planning on a rewatch soon. SO if you enjoyed this at all and want anything specific pls let me know! I'm not very comfortable with x Reader but I would like to be!

Thank you for the req, and again-- so sorry for the wait!

[rosie-tyler]

Why would they ask about it. WHY WOULD THEY ASK ABOUT IT???

[bakrci]

If the people who were supposed to protect you played so fast and loose with your life . . . then how did you survive? Not by trusting them, that was for sure. And if you couldn’t trust them, who could you trust? All bets were off.

aviso de gatilho: violência, serpentes, mutilação.

Era de se pensar que eles teriam alguma vantagem, com tantas informações repassadas por Circe. Uma Guerra Esquecida. Deuses maquinando contra outros. Mortes incontáveis, tantas que os livros de registros deveriam “lotar toda uma sala”. Não que os deuses se importassem com a vida deles - eram apenas instrumentos para o alcance de um fim, Remzi bem sabia. Contudo, nem o filme ou projeção mais gráfica seria capaz de prepará-los para o que estava por vir. A inquietude que o acompanhou ao longo dos três dias na ilha persistia naquele pós retorno ao Acampamento Meio-Sangue. Era um ímã para desgraças, por que seria diferente quando a desgraça já estava prenunciada? Aliás, o sentimento tinha apenas se intensificado diante das palavras agourentas de Circe, como se estivesse pressentindo seu sucumbir naquela noite.

Era ainda cedo quando se colocou a postos, às margens da fenda, apoiado em Penumbra, o suor frio a escorrer-lhe pelas costas, ao mesmo tempo em que as mãos apresentavam um leve tremor. Ele já não ouvia as ordens de Lecomte àquela altura, mesmo que quem olhasse em sua direção o tomasse por alguém focado. A tensão dos músculos fazia com que se mantivesse teso, como se a fenda irradiasse, desde já, seu descontentamento em ser atacada, direcionado a todos aqueles que ousassem fazê-lo e àqueles que estavam ali para garantir que o feitiço fosse executado.

Assim que os cânticos começaram a ser entoados, a postura se endireitou. Gostaria de vedar o som das vozes dos Filhos da Magia, se pudesse, como se as palavras ditas fossem um convite para o desastre que se aproximava, tornando o Bakirci ansioso enquanto segurava a foice com mais firmeza, duvidando de sua capacidade de suportar o peso. 

Então, o estalo, acompanhado do tremor que o desestabilizou.

A partir daí, foi como se acompanhasse a ação de fora do próprio corpo, analisando a cena como um espectador desinteressado de cinema mudo. Os gritos dos semideuses o desconcentrariam, então tinha de focar no silêncio da própria mente. Um grito, no entanto, se sobressaía, vindo diretamente do interior da fenda.

Ele conhecia Campe, mas não com aqueles olhos.

A criatura traiçoeira avançou com suas extensões ofídias, varrendo alguns semideuses que encontrava no caminho. Ele devia ter dado mais atenção aos avisos de Circe, pois só agora reparava que nem todos eram atacados pelo monstro, que  parecia ter predileção por alguns campistas em específico.

Ao ouvir o sibilar de uma das cobras junto à lateral do rosto, soube que ela estava perto demais para que ele estivesse confortável. Por instinto, se virou com agilidade, erguendo a lâmina dupla na tentativa de decepar a cauda de escorpião do monstro, antes que o atacasse diretamente. Entretanto, o golpe apenas serviu para fazer com que fosse empurrado para trás por outra das extensões da besta, derrapando no terreno e caindo de costas no solo, colidindo com o ombro e a lateral do torso contra as rochas.

Não é real - não era o que todos vinham avisando? Mas, então, por que parecia tão realista?

Acompanhava de perto os esforços de Santi para conter a criatura, e até fez esforço para se juntar a ele, conjurando escudo a partir de suas sombras e mirando as adagas no quadril do monstro, para que atingisse a testa dos bestantes que saíam de sua cintura. 

Avançou uma vez mais empunhando a foice, dessa vez para ser repelido pelo rabo de escorpião que, com a força, o lançou contra o chão, os pulmões explodindo em dor quando o ar foi forçado para fora do corpo. O golpe foi brutal, e por um momento a visão do filho de Nyx escureceu nas bordas, os sons ao seu redor se tornando ecos distantes.

Ele tentou se levantar, as mãos escorregando no solo enquanto a força do monstro o mantinha preso. Penumbra estava fora de alcance, caída alguns metros adiante. O turco estendeu a mão em sua direção, convocando a foice de volta com um gesto rápido. A arma voou para sua mão, tendo o semideus girado com toda a força que lhe restava, acertando Campe em um golpe desesperado.

O som metálico de lâmina contra escama ressoou no ar, mas o monstro não vacilou. Suas armas, constatou, eram completamente ineficazes contra Campe, especialmente quando, no momento seguinte, inúmeras serpentes começaram a se assomar aos seus pés, vindas do monstro, afundando suas presas tóxicas em uma das pernas dele. Remzi soltou um grito involuntário, o veneno queimando através de suas veias como fogo líquido. A dor era excruciante, como se sua carne estivesse sendo corroída de dentro para fora.

Tentando ignorar o pânico crescente, ele conjurou sombras ao seu redor, tentando afastar o monstro o suficiente para que pudesse se reposicionar. Mas Campe era implacável. Outro golpe de sua cauda o atingiu, dessa vez diretamente no joelho, quebrando o osso com um estalo horrível que o assombraria para o resto da vida.

Remzi gritou; a perna cedendo sob seu peso no instante em que ele caiu de joelhos, incapaz de continuar lutando de pé. A dor era um borrão confuso, cada respiração uma luta, e o Bakirci sabia que precisava continuar se movendo ou estaria perdido. Porém, o corpo protestava, implorando pelo desligamento. 

O veneno injetado por um sem número de presas agiu rápido em seu sistema, ao ponto de não saber se o que via era real ou se estava alucinando - a cena caótica se desenrolando como se o tempo estivesse acelerado e desacelerado ao mesmo tempo.

Uma semideusa filha de Morfeu atingida no ombro pela cauda de escorpião.

Santiago sucumbindo junto com ele.

Seus irmãos, Damon e Alina, padecendo diante de uma hidra. 

E depois, uma voz: o segredo precisa ser revelado, o Silêncio irá cair e o Olimpo sucumbirá em conjunto.

O… Segredo?

Já não importava qual era. Ele nem estaria vivo para descobrir.

Os olhos já estavam se fechando sozinhos e Remzi já estava meio grogue - completamente envenenado, a visão embaçada e desfocada, a boca seca - quando sentiu alguém o arrastar para longe da batalha como o peso morto que tinha se tornado. Uma garota. Uma Caçadora da deusa da lua.

Não sentiu a terra tremer ou o mundo ser sugado para baixo, porque assim que se viu arrastado por Thalia Grace, ele se permitiu desistir e aceitar que tinha falhado, a escuridão tomando sua visão, o veneno corroendo sua carne... E então, finalmente, o alívio da inconsciência o envolveu.

try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.

Essa não é a primeira vez que Hécate usa vocês como marionetes, semideuses. Não é a primeira vez que a fenda se abre no acampamento, não é a primeira vez que um de vocês… Crianças dos Três Grandes são semideuses de ego elevado, de orgulho maior do que os próprios feitos… A fenda é obra de Hades e Hécate... Ambos estavam trabalhando juntos pois desejavam trazer à tona um segredo dos deuses…

A dor era insuportável. Remzi acordou com um grito preso na garganta, os pulmões falhando em puxar o ar enquanto uma queimação pulsava em sua perna. Ele tentou se mexer, mas qualquer movimento trazia uma nova onda de agonia. A sala ao seu redor era fria e escura, o som distante de murmúrios e vozes o alcançando como se viessem de muito longe.

O filho de Nyx piscou várias vezes, tentando clarear a visão turva. Estava deitado em uma maca improvisada, na enfermaria do Acampamento, seu corpo envolto em cobertores pesados para conter a febre. Mas nada disso importava. Tudo que ele conseguia sentir era a dor lancinante em sua perna. Quando seus olhos finalmente focaram, ele notou a mancha escura de sangue na lateral do colchão, onde a perna direita estava estendida.

Algo estava errado. Muito errado.

Remzi tentou mover o pé, mas não houve resposta. Ele se forçou a olhar para baixo, engolindo o nada quando viu o estrago. A perna estava enfaixada, a atadura saturada de sangue, e o inchaço era grotesco. Além disso, a pele estava descolorida, manchada de preto e azul, as marcas das mordidas das serpentes ainda visíveis ao longo de sua panturrilha. E o veneno... Ele sabia que o veneno ainda estava ali, se espalhando como uma praga, queimando tudo por onde passava.

Uma figura se aproximou dele, a silhueta alta e familiar de Quíron, o centauro com expressão grave, algo que Remzi raramente via. Ao seu lado, Esthis, filha de Poseidon, segurava um frasco de néctar com as mãos trêmulas, os olhos cheios de preocupação.

"Remzi," Quíron começou, sua voz profunda carregada de uma tristeza que o semideus não sabia decifrar. "A situação é grave. O osso se partiu durante a batalha. E o veneno... Se espalhou mais rápido do que conseguimos controlar. Nós tentamos, mas a sua perna... Ela não está reagindo aos nossos tratamentos."

O coração do semideus afundou. Ele olhou para Quíron, tentando entender o que ele estava dizendo, mas as palavras pareciam flutuar no ar, pesadas demais para absorver.

"O que quer dizer com isso?" Remzi perguntou, sua voz áspera devido à falta de uso, quase inaudível.

Quíron respirou fundo antes de continuar. "Se não agirmos agora... O veneno vai se espalhar para o resto do seu corpo. Já está começando a afetar outros órgãos. Se não cortarmos... Você não vai sobreviver."

Remzi piscou, o choque se espalhando pelo seu corpo como um golpe físico. Cortar...?

"Você quis dizer... amputar?" ele mal conseguia dizer a palavra, seus olhos fixos em Quíron, esperando que o centauro negasse, dissesse que havia outro jeito, qualquer outra solução. Mas não houve resposta.

Ainda assim, talvez o mais digno a se fazer fosse oferecer uma negativa, morrer como um dos seus, em decorrência de seus ferimentos. Porém, não pode deixar de pensar que até mesmo a honra de morrer em batalha os deuses haviam tirado dele. Por que não tomariam sua perna?

“Remzi, eu sinto muito…” foram as palavras de Essie, como se se desculpasse pelo que seus superiores estavam prestes a fazer, depois que ele anuiu, de maneira quase imperceptível, ao mesmo tempo que encarava o nada.

Sim. Teria sido melhor se tivesse morrido.

mencionados: @lleccmte, @aguillar, @notodreamin, @sonofnyx, @nyctophiliesblog, @essalis

para @silencehq e @hefestotv

[starglaee]

Close enough. Welcome back, Faberry

[idollete]

juju do pix n sei se ja comentaram mais pra mim o jeronimo alem de ser um golden retriver gigante que ajoelha pra arrumar o salto vive mandando foto e video na academia carregando 3x mais o peso da loba dps dela falar "vc n me aguenta" pra ele

SIMMMMMM!!!!!!! o jerónimo é super exibido, manas, e ele também lives to please, não tem jeito. e dizer que ele não te aguenta?! você tocou na maior ferida deste homem que é não ser forte maromba tadalafellas coded. então, no dia seguinte ele tá na academia dobrando carga, triplicando, quadruplicando, parece treino de levantador de peso mas é só ele querendo te passar a mensagem de que sim! ele aguenta você e mais um pouco

e aqui minha mente foi pra um cenário jerónimo papai babão rsrsrsrsrsrs que tem 5 filhos e faz aquela trend do tiktok de carregar todos de uma vez só e depois de tudo isso ele ainda chega e te diz que cabe mais espaço e que vocês deveriam fazer outro filho

[rooolt]

have yet to stop thinking about the plane ride to Barcelona, aka the worlds most awkward plane ride in the world. Like who do we think sat together? Did Devon talk to any of them, like is she’s friends with any of the other teens? Did Eli and demetri drag other people into their drama, was demetri very obviously trying to avoid Eli, messing up the assumed plane seating arrangements? Was Robby brooding over his missing girlfriend and her dead mom the whole time? Were Daniel and Johnny still beefing or do we think they tried to save face for the kids? Is there any chance that Miguel and Sam were able to just have a nice time hanging out with each other on the flight or did they get dragged into everyone else’s drama? I’m so obsessed with the logistics of the Barcelona trip, not to mention the flight is like 11 hours long if it’s non-stop. it sounds like the trip from hell

[p2ii]

'we need more stories with complex and nunaced themes and world building that doesn't exist in black and white/where no one is uniquely good or bad' y'all can't even handle the freedom fighter trope when they use 2% violence in their own liberation

[bubblegumflavor]

It's international Billy Zabka day so here's a bit of my collection =D

💕🎶HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLIAM ZABKA 🎶💕

💙I love you so much you sweet angel straight from heaven💙

[newlacesleeves]

look, i am really sick of the same old same old "you teach a different style of karate than me" argument. it's very tired after 6 seasons and while i certainly can't say i expected better from the writers, i did have hope that we'd move past it. with how strong the first episodes started, it felt regressive for both of them to go back to that so quickly.

but i did like the argument in ep 5. because that argument wasn't about different karate styles. johnny was coming from a place of empathy for tory when he said not to stop the fight if she didn't want it. and daniel was coming from a place of sympathy. there's a difference between empathy and sympathy and i am not saying daniel was wrong to step in or to sympathize, rather just highlighting that they both came from two different sides of care over the situation. and that is a good angle to approach their differences from. i would take more of that over "you're teaching then aggression" vs. "you're teaching them to be pussies" over and over again.

johnny going after miyagi is wrong but not out of character. he's clearly projecting a lot of anger in that moment and he's been bottling it and it comes out disparaging miyagi so daniel throws a punch and that was a great moment i think. the show portrays daniel as always trying to be the reincarnation of his mentor which he isn't because he is NOT miyagi and him throwing a punch in response to johnny's goading felt really good for his character to me. i like seeing daniel get thrown off balance. i like when we see glimpses of the character he was in tkk he throws the punch on the beach and instigates every now and then. it shows he still has room to grow.

do i love johnny's little break up threat? no. but i liked the fight itself. because it was not the same argument they've been having for years and it finally felt a little more raw and emotional and that's what i would prefer.

[autism-swagger]

Repeated reminders that Sam is legitimately traumatized by Tory and that stuff like that doesn't just go away my beloved (^_^)